...these tiny scars serve to remind us of who we really are & what we can become..."

August 17th, 2010

i fell asleep in Nara.

I woke up in a traditional Japanese guesthouse wondering where that black cat went. She was hiding amongst the sliding wooden panel doors. When i learned her given name, it was a painful surprise. It stung me quite a bit. The very name that haunts me wherever i go….the owner hailed from Brasil, but spoke impeccable Japanese.

I was in this very same town almost 5 months ago...remembering the tiny scar on my right-hand wrist. Remembering what it symbolizes since we all scar so easily..and to think that time heals most wounds.

I think of my loved ones, for I often miss people more than places.

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I ran into 2 female interns helping out with the local Nara International Film Festival. Teava and Zenetra were their given names. They are both sisters from the West Coast. One studied at Stanford and the other at the University of Reno. Both majored in something relating to film. They are a mix of Thai, Laotian, and something else. Both of them are the sum of everything interesting to talk to. Many questions were asked about my time spent in Thailand since they had never been there.

I spoke with a sort of romanticism about the land despite its inherent flaws. Especially the small town life that I encountered there.

I realized that although I had missed the Thai countryside somewhat, it was the breath-taking sunsets that I had yearned for the most. the cheerful smiles of my neighbors. the beaming faces of my Thai kindergarteners. the translucent azure waters. the lazy beaches that had seemed lifted from a dreamscape. those weeping tropical rainstorms.

all this came to mind when I closed my eyes and sighed out of my open mouth….

Nara was celebrating its 1300^th year anniversary. The ancient town never struck me as my favorite place in Japan. Too many wild deer clamoring for sembei crackers sold in bunches by weary vendors. I often got bit by them or poked by their antlers, Small children screaming in abject horror with terrified eyes while their parents laugh incessantly. Some of the tamed deer bore many scars like most of us do in our lives. Who knows where they got them from. A vehicle or one of their peers perhaps. I did not think i would miss Nara as I climbed back into my mini-van.

On these long drives in Japan i could think to myself clearly for the first time in years.

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