At the end of every school year, I always marvel at how easy it is to leave Duke. For me, the hardest part is always trying to stuff my 52,890,455 belongings into a much smaller number of boxes-it's pretty easy for me to shift my car into drive and leave with no heavy feelings in my heart.
All this is especially surprising because I'm someone that hates endings. I started bawling before I even read the first word of the seventh Harry Potter book. I can't tell you the ending to some of my favorite TV shows because I simply refused to watch the last episode. Endings are really not my kind of thing.
But the Duke I leave at the end of the school year is easy to drive away from. The harshness of the finality is whittled away student by student until the campus is left empty and void of life. It's actually easier leaving than staying. Contrast that with Duke at the beginning of the school year, which is probably the hardest place in the world to say goodbye to. The atmosphere is tense with excitement, students are fresh-faced from summer adventures and inebriated friends scream "don't leave!" at you. But that is exactly what I must do.
I am going to be spending this semester abroad in Japan-yes, the magical place that birthed Godzilla, Hello Kitty, Pikachu and the instant ramen sitting on your shelf. As even more of a tease, thanks to the close distance of my house to Durham (I grew up in Carrboro), I have been able to visit Duke almost daily for the last week, and enjoyed all the perks of orientation week (free drinks) and not having a DukeCard that works (free dinner).
Yet, as sad as I am to leave Duke, I will confess that going to Japan is basically my 13-year-old self's dream come true.
I am a bit of a Japanophile. I have been infatuated with the country and its culture for the last eight years of my life-and it continues to this day.
In high school, I did absurd things like driving across states just to see my favorite Japanese band perform, or spending hundreds on a plane ticket to California for a period of 48 hours in order to meet an adored Japanese personality (all the while lying to my family about it).
When I came to college, I continued studying the language, although my erratic behavior due to love of all-things-Japanese decreased significantly, perhaps because of an excess of homework and fraternity parties.
But recently, as my departure date edges closer and closer, I have found myself-in bursts of giddiness and excitement at having my childhood dreams fulfilled-doing illogical things to get ready for my trip.
Earlier this month, I became couch-ridden with laptop in tow for a whole week, watching YouTube videos of Japanese variety shows. I figured it would be a better Japanese review than memorizing vocabulary, so I sat there and watched androgynous Japanese men play games with each other. In the most bizarre show the guys stuffed balloons down their shirts in an effort to mimic breasts, and tried to pop them using methods that ranged from humping to sitting on each other. I don't actually remember a word of Japanese they said.
And instead of worrying about the fact that I might not have a place to stay once I get to Japan because I cannot get in touch with my host family, I have busied myself with buying "impressive" gifts for the lovely mother-son pair that awaits me (and who may or may not exist).
So while my fellow classmates stocked up on laundry detergent and new notebooks at Target, I was buying Pokemon cards, miniature American flags (apparently the red, white and blue print is all the rage in Japan) and meandering in the little boys section looking for T-shirts for my 7-year-old host brother.
I tell myself that I am doing all this in preparation. I've studied Japanese in a classroom for the last six years, but I've never been to the country, and I learned long ago that whatever you read in a textbook is nothing like reality. If there's one thing I do know about Japan, it's that it is a rather unpredictable place where TV personalities named "Hard Gay" can change lives and watermelons are square-shaped. So maybe watching a bizarre pop culture TV episode and giving the right gift is the right start after all. I can only hope.
Lisa Du is a Trinity junior. Her column runs every other Friday.
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