I’ve now been in Tokyo for exactly one week (though we left Boston two days earlier for an extended layover with friends in San Francisco). For the past seven days Randy and I have kept ourselves busy registering his residency with the city hall, searching for apartments, shopping for household necessities, and looking at rental furniture options.
Busy, busy, busy.
And we found a really nice apartment on the 27th floor of a 30 story building with three bedrooms, two full bathrooms, a small gym, and unobstructed western views of the neighboring Shibakoen Park and Tokyo Tower with the skylines of the Roppongi, Kamiyacho, Shibuya, and Shinjuku neighborhoods behind it, all with a back drop of mountains (possibly Mount Fuji on a clear day). It’s spacious (1,400 square feet) and the master bathroom even has a wall of glass so while soaking in the tub (or showering) we can enjoy the lights of the city.
But here I am, one day away from flying back to Boston to settle things up and I’m getting a sense of buyer’s remorse. For a full week I’ve been in Japan excited about staying here. I would have thought that any “what am I getting myself into” thoughts would have occured upon my arrival, not upon my departure. Yet after 7 exciting days here I’m only now getting nervous, which is odd since in less than 24 hours I’ll be on my way back to Boston.
I’m a freak.
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