By Jasmine Parmley

It is rather oxymoronic how isolated one can feel, navigating the bustling streets of Shinjuku. If the term can be loosely defined as being away from anyone familiar, then "solitude" is the norm in this city.

From hurried morning walks to sleepy evening train rides to late night strolls down colorfully illuminated sidewalks, I am constantly alone.

Though I walk past hundreds of strangers every day, their unrecognizable faces are but a blurry background-- a testament to how few friends I have in this city. At times, even the most avid believers in self-reliance can feel pangs of loneliness: I miss living with my family and running into friends back in Nebraska. Even after moving to Boston for college, I was still used to seeing familiar faces around campus every day.

By contrast, in Tokyo I have to actively make plans just to see people I know. In crowds, lone travelers can become invisible. Yet it is precisely this crowded invisibility that allows us to grow close to each other. The great secret of this city is that it is the perfect place for secrets. Never would I have guessed that the funniest jokes are made over grilled gyoza at crowded counters, the best gossip is spilled on the damp benches of public parks, and the most sincere childhood memories are shared on street corners while watching trains pass by.

It is in the lonely corners of the city where I have found my strongest friendships. If we listen closely, I wonder what other secrets can be found hiding in the rhythmic hum of the city.

PC: Starr Sandoval

Being tall is a part of my life, but generally not a problem for my everyday existence. In the U.K. I can manage my way around low doorways and the occasional short bed. And before you ask, no, I don’t play basketball.

But Japan is a place not exactly ideal for someone like me, towering over the average person. I always feel so cumbersome on the train or walking along a busy street with my long spaghetti arms flailing about, getting in ordinary peoples’ way. By the time I leave Japan, my head will probably be a different shape due to the number of times I’ve hit it on door frames. In times like those I can’t help but feel that I don’t fit here.

My feet hang off the end of my futon, the shower requires some creativity to be able to actually wash with. Even the slippers in my sharehouse are being worn down by my large feet. I don’t look like I speak Japanese, but I can understand almost perfectly every comment, joke or judgement someone makes as I walk past. I am so obviously so foreign here, and this only serves to increase my feelings that I don’t fit.

But I can’t help but feel like, somehow, I do fit here. I appreciate the quiet on trains, and the ordered way that people stand on the escalator. I actually quite like the complicated trash system, feeling like I’m disposing of waste responsibly for once in my life. I can laugh at ridiculous TV shows with my housemates, even in Japanese. Finally, I love getting to know my students. I can talk with them about soccer, their favourite music, and their future dreams. The fact that my legs don’t quite fit in the classroom chairs doesn’t matter when we’re speaking together.

So maybe Japan wasn’t made to fit someone as tall as me, with my ungainly limbs and constant ducking. But the people here, from my housemates to my students to my local 7-11 cashier, make me feel like there’s still room for me here.

Miss Mina is a fearless adventurer in pursuit of unique stories and tasty bites. She's open to experience all types of food and travel to every corner of the world! She has tons of exciting videos in which she tries all sorts of Japanese cuisine around the country.

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