This is the third installment of a series of articles by faculty teaching at one of Temple’s international campuses. Brad Windhauser, Professor of Instruction in First-Year Writing & Gender, Sexuality, &Women’s Studies, describes his return home after his semester-long appointment at TUJ in Tokyo. 

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I returned to Philly a few weeks ago from teaching at Temple-Japan for the Fall semester. It was right before Christmas, and the adjustment has been, well, weird. The jet lag, of course, has messed with my sleeping. Beyond that, I have to resist bowing to people at the end of a transaction in a store or saying arigatou (thank you in Japanese) when a server delivers my food or a clerk gives me change. Dollars feel small in my hand, coins feel even smaller. Most of all, I crave sushi; wonderfully deep red, lean maguro sushi (that also happens to be really cheap).

Upon my return, I also received an email from a colleague in First-Year Writing who is making the same trip in the Fall, though she will be teaching at the new TUJ campus in Kyoto. I look forward to grabbing coffee with her and sharing all I learned, things that might make her trip a tad easier. Responding to her, I was also struck by how weird it was to think about a year ago when I received the email that I would be teaching in Tokyo, the overwhelming feeling mixed with equal parts excitement and thinking about the enormity of the opportunity to experience Japan in more depth. I sit here now waiting for everything associated with the past four months to sink in—that will take time, but it is exhilarating to be think about—and that is not hyperbole.

To maximize being in Tokyo for an extended time, I planned a lot of travel—both throughout Japan and outside the country. Because of the extremely well-developed train system, I was able to travel as far as Hiroshima, then Osaka, Kyoto (twice), Katsuura, Nara, Nagoya, Kanazawa, and Yokohama (twice) rather easily, quickly, and cheaply. I wanted to make sure I experienced as much of Japan as made sense on my timetable (long weekends) and my budget. I accomplished that, but with every successful trip, I started formulating additional excursions—which time would not allow.

I also spent long weekends in Beijing (3.5 flight) and Taipei (3 hour flight). Both were eye opening experiences, given their respectively rich cultures. When I return—and I do plan to return one day—I look forward to being able to travel more easily to this part of the world, especially on short flights.

Next time, Shanghai and Bangkok are on my list. I also traveled around Tokyo, which offers so many areas with different vibes and cultural sites. Cut up this way, Tokyo allows you to settle into smaller areas without feeling overwhelmed by a population of over 37 million people. Enviably, the Tokyo transit system makes this incredibly easy to navigate.

Of course, I was also there to teach. Two English 802 sections and one on Queer Lives. Each of them had fewer students than I would have had on main campus, and although somewhat lesser grading I found I spent more time providing feedback than I might normally, smaller class sizes present different challenges for discussions and other related class activities.

Smaller sections also allowed me to get to know students more deeply than I normally would—we routinely shared thoughts on our experiences living abroad. Teaching abroad during this particular election cycle was also eye opening, as I taught students from throughout the US as well as a few local students. All of them had different takes on the two presidential candidates (more mixed than I was used to on main campus)—not to mention that local coverage tended to frame Trump as a more positive candidate than the mainstream US press.

This made for interesting conversations about the framing of content and controlling narratives (topics explored more broadly in my 802 class). Instances like this also reminded me that I can’t take a particular classroom approach for granted—thinking most of my students will have a particular exposure to pop culture—so I enjoyed having to reassess my cultural touchstones for course themes. For my queer class, it was insightful to hear from non-Western students about their experiences of queer lives in parts of the world we hear little about.

Beyond all of this, I enjoyed developing a unique routine living in Tokyo. Before arriving, I wondered about how it would be to grocery shop, especially just cooking for myself (as opposed to also cooking for my husband). One thing I noticed rather quickly is how Japanese culture tends to privilege single people. This means that when grocery shopping, instead of a generous bundle of asparagus, you get a cluster of five or six spears—nothing left over to linger in the fridge. Chicken breasts are sold in single packages. I never had leftovers and never once used the freezer for food.

This also carries over to dining out. In the US, I feel weird dining at a restaurant on my own, especially for dinner. Throughout Japan, dining caters to the single person with lots of counter space and stools and smaller tables—you dine alongside several other single people. That doesn’t mean that groups (or couples) don’t eat out, but there was typically a balance of single and groups of diners, so I never felt odd—not to mention that food arrives quickly, so a meal might last 30-40 minutes, from the time you sit to the time you pay your check.

More than anything, I will miss most how every day in Japan seemingly brought a new opportunity to see something beautiful or cool. In my day-to-day experience, I passed small, local temples with ornate structures or unique stone statues (like a dragon or a cat) or a picturesque garden tucked into a local neighborhood or an amusing graphic on the subway warning against getting your hand or bag caught in the train door (if this happens, the train will just start moving with your hand or bag trapped). 

I will miss the carefully packaged specialty caramels from Shibuya and the bar seats at the conveyor belt sushi spot in Shinjuku. I will miss being on the lookout for things like these (and more), even if locals may not hold as much reverence for the city around them—the occasional odd look when I stopped (frequently) to snap pictures of the seemingly mundane suggests they couldn’t imagine why I would be interested. I hope I cultivate this same appreciation for my city now that I am home.

Perhaps the most challenging thing about leaving was figuring out how I was going to fit everything I had amassed on this journey of a lifetime into my two suitcases. Fortunately, my husband had room in one of his bags.