calicovia

It was the Summer of 1972 when London bureaucrats, in pressed suits and with pompous chatter, sliced up and remolded the United Kingdom with pencils on an oversized map. With sips of tea and compasses in hand, the ceremonial counties that had shaped a nation over centuries bygone were partitioned, frankensteined together in the interests of proper management of local governments. This was how the proud county of Lancashire, whose ancestors had birthed kings of England and clashed shields with the white rose of York, lost so many of its children. Manchester, Salford, Stockport, all amalgamated into the metropolitan modernity of Manchester. Southport and St Helens were ceded to Merseyside's growing form. In the farthest North-West territories of England, a place of grey rain upon rolling fells, three counties were brought together - in spite of their differences and united by kinship. To the East, Westmorland - bringing with it the Pennine peaks, mint cake from Kendal, and ale from P...

Today marks 2 years since I took that long journey from the UK to start a life in Japan. Where'd all the time go? When I look back at first arriving in this country, the person I was is almost unrecognizable. A much younger man - one with short, tussled hair, in his fresh pressed navy blue suit. One who knew essentially nothing about the world he'd swan-dived into, with Japanese skills that could barely even pass as intelligible...burbled grammar, and the speaking confidence of a shy 13 year-old. Those first few days after I stepped foot in Japan, I was both mesmerized and frightened beyond belief. I'd left my family, friends, people important to me far behind. My share house at the time had no Wi-Fi, and for 3 days I had to trek to the station and ride the train to Tennoji Starbucks to mooch off their internet supply, for the promise of a brief bit of contact with my family who would ease the growing anxiety in my stomach. My mandatory mask tightly affixed everywhere I wen...