This entry is so hard to write. I got back to the UK on Friday and I thought I’d write something on Saturday, but I underestimated just how exhausted and jet lagged I was.  I feel so tired that my brain feels like its turned to mush. Even this far on from landing in the UK I’m still waking up at  7am  every morning and I’m still so very tired.

And it’s difficult to know where to begin- how to put into words everything that has happened since I left Malaysia. I have a handful of half written entries written in Japan but most days are blank, and my memories are too bright and vivid, blurring out the little details.

Japan was amazing though. There were times where I was tired or moody or embarrassed. I tried to climb a mountain in the snow and failed. My dad changed plans last minute without discussing it with me and I got angry. I realized how useless just knowing hiragana was, and cursed myself for struggling with katakana still as knowing that alone would have been far more useful, and I felt frustrated because of this and embarrassed too, as my Father clearly expected more from me. I realized it is best to visit Japan with some grasp of Japanese or none at all- with just this small amount of knowledge, having just these bits and pieces is frustrating, as you can begin to try and comprehend, but lack the knowledge to really understand or communicate. On the other hand, there were so many more moments I felt so happy I was almost overwhelmed with it. After how difficult things have this year, it was a relief to feel free of that heavy weight. I succeeded in climbing another mountain, I was driven through lush forests along twisty mountain roads and through sleepy fishing villages in remote areas. I finally got to see Northern Tohoku and Hokkaido and I felt so blessed and so happy to have been able to have done so. It was all so breathtakingly beautiful and showed a hidden side of Japan, so far removed from the frantic pace and overwhelming crowds of Tokyo.

It was over so, so soon. The journey up to Sapporo was long and lingering- we travelled to Aomori by Shinkansen then stayed there for a few days, before working up to Hakodate, taking a brief stop there, then finally landing in Sapporo. Then we took the flight back to Tokyo and I realized then how little time I had left, and the last two days in Japan were clouded by that anxiety, that soon I would be back in the UK.

On Thursday 13th June at 4pm Japan time my Father and I boarded the limousine bus at our hotel and began the journey back. The bus journey was long and boring, with a little kid sat right behind us who was excited and chatty and loud about it. He reminded me of my sister and I when we travelled when we were younger- and I resisted the urge to apologize to my father. He was sleeping, anyway. I have a feeling I exhausted my father with this holiday, maybe was a little hard on him, although he’d never admit to it so I do not think I can be blamed for it.

Once at the airport we went to pick up the extra baggage we had left there then found ourselves a quiet corner by our airline check in counter to sort out our stuff and repack to get our weights in order. In the end my father had my 11kg of stuff that had been left at the airport, plus 17kg of checked in baggage and 7kg hand luggage. I had 29kg of checked in luggage and 7kg of hand luggage. I was amazed that we’d managed to meet the luggage limitations so perfectly and easily- having expected to be tearing through my luggage in frustration for much longer trying to make it all work, having been afraid we would not be able to make it work. We went and joined the queue and got our luggage checked in no problem and one of my major worries was totally erased. My dad and I hunted out a McDonald’s to eat supper then got through customs before rushing to the day rooms on the air side so we could make our 8pm bookings. We’d tried to get a late checkout but the hotel had wanted about £70 for that, so I’d looked into showering facilities at Narita and was surprised to find they had small hotel rooms to rent by the hour which we could use. I booked us two singles just for an hour so we could freely access our stuff and take a shower. I tell you, that hour made all the difference. The rooms were small but clean and simply being able to spread out all my stuff and take a long, hot shower left me feeling refreshed and ready as I would ever be for the flights. The first flight was 10 hours to Dubai. It was dull. I eventually slipped into sleep about four hours in, but it was not the good quality stuff. Then there was a 4 hour layover at Dubai.  It was also dull. My dad bought my a load of fruit for breakfast and we walked around in circles round the terminal for a bit, then sat at the gate and willed time to pass. Actually, my dad napped as I willed time to pass. Then there was 7 hours flying to Manchester. That was even worse than dull- time just dragged on and on and on and I felt so ill by that point, and tired but unable to sleep, and itchy from too long in the dry, unforgiving plane air conditioning. I flew on an airbus for the first time but it was nothing different- the seat was a little wider, and the toilets had fancy fake wooden seats is all. I think the air bus is better for the staff- they have more space to rest and also to work without having people queuing for the toilets or wanting to stand up for a while getting in their way. Finally, we arrived at Manchester. Lunchtime, Friday 14th June. We had a long wait to collect our baggage then dragged it all to the train station…onto the train…and then home…

The rest of the day was spent unpacking, giving out gifts, chatting with family before going to bed at 7pm, sleeping straight through to 6am the next morning.

Since then… On Saturday I went grocery shopping with my Father. We’d both woken early and headed out at around 8am or 9am to do so,  some crazily early time like that. I came back and freaked my mother out with the relish I ate a ham, pepperoni and salami sandwich. On Sunday we went for a walk through the gardens of a local stately house near where we live. On Tuesday I spent some time with my father dismantling my new computer  in order to clean it, and I’m pleased to say that although I’m still clueless about computers, I now at least have some idea of where everything goes in one. Which is a start. Today I spent some  time with my mother rooting through her makeup drawers. This is a task I’ve always enjoyed since I was little- my mothers vanity drawers are seemingly endless, packed with all manners of interesting, pretty, expensive looking things. Today I rooted out some eyeliners from kanebo, elizabeth arden and ysl. My timing was good as my mother was feeling generous and let me have them all.

I think that coming back was fairly underwhelming. Nothing has changed. I looked out the train and the car and its all the same. I come back to the house and there’s been some changes around the house and at first I feel uncomfortable, like a stranger in my own home- I couldn’t find a plate in the kitchen, there were no toiletries for me in the bathroom, even my room was strange and unfamiliar, something I’d not seen for so long, and I wondered if it was always like this. Now a few days later and I’m settled and this summer is like any other- days drag on and I’m bored. My mother frustrates me at times but I do my best not to snap. My cat is whiny but cute enough to get away with it. During the day, today, my Father and my Sister are not here and its terribly quiet, not a sound, not even from outside. The UK is grey and I’m sitting here in a hoodie and a scarf, indoors, with the heat on. But even I have not changed all that much. I’m a little tanned, I’m a lot cold, I have stories about foreign places, but I’m still the same person. Everything slides back into place so easily, as if nothing happened at all. As if I’ve never been away.

I’m not sure whether to feel relieved about this or disappointed. I thought coming back to the UK would be… something. Something large and difficult that I had to conquer. I thought it would be more difficult than this. Maybe in some strange way I wished it would be. I don’t really know how to explain why I have this feeling. Its just anticlimactic, I guess. That you can go away for so long and when you turn back nothing has changed.