My first eight months in The Village were fascinating. I was having fun learning how to interact with kids and fumbling around trying to interact with adults.
My neighbours are crazy, my kids are goobery, there are bugs in my mailbox, and I found the Best. Park. Ever.
The Ghibli Museum in Tokyo, parties in Numazu, and the Fuji Rock Festival in Echigo-Yuzawa.
An acquaintance from Shizuoka illustrates the wrong way to depart Japan.
Great coasters and awful weather at Fuji-Q Highland, then a mighty long slog up a mighty big mountain.
Fat people. Post-9/11 security. No Japanese. And a friend-by-friend checklist of people I have to visit.
I foolishly agree to do a 40-minute speech in Japanese, then run like the wind to beat a seven-year-old on Sports Day.
Bringing Halloween to the kids of The Village nearly kills me, and then it's time for the village taiko festival.
As Christmas lessons get underway, whether or not I leave The Village is decided by bedding.