Native soil.

Back. Back! I have rematriculated my American-ness, everyone. It is totally weird.
Right now, I am lying belly-first on the carpet of my new bedroom, which is furniture-less and scattered with open suitcases vomiting out my clothing and sundries. The temperature is about 80 degrees, but promises to hit at least 94 before the day is over. Yesterday, I went outside and sweated in a tank top and skirt, and fretted over possibly getting my first sunburn of the year. Luckily, my fancy new american face lotion comes with spf 15.

Leaving Japan was sad, sweaty, and painful -- the last two caused mostly by me hauling heavy-ass luggage and boxes and shit all over the city. I mailed what felt like 100 lbs of books over the ocean to my new digs, which should arrive here in about 3 more weeks. I went over my weight and luggage limit on my flight, and had to pay accordingly. I threw away bagfuls of unsorted trash in the night, and left two sacks of old clothes and sheets and a slightly moldy futon for my landlady to toss for me on the appropriate day. I spent over a week having last and second-to-last meals with almost everyone I'd ever met during my time in Japan. I gave away a bag of macadamia nuts I'd received as omiyage to my landlady's mother, the day she came to get the keys to my apartment and bid me farewell. Secret: I hate macadamia nuts.

And then I flew across the Pacific in a bright shiny airplane that boasted free wine and terrible vegetarian meal service. Truly the crappiest food I have eaten in a long time; I have no idea why people automatically assume that vegetarians hate food with seasoning, fat, or taste. Case in point: both my dinner and breakfast came with a small side salad which boasted absolutely no dressing whatsoever. In its place, a slice of lemon mocked me openly. There was not even any salt. I should write them a letter.
Also, no one in the world considers mushy rice and mushy vegetables a breakfast food. Come on, people. At least find a way to whip up some (vegan?) pancakes. So far the only palatable airline food I have had in my international travels was from United. They also boasted the most liberal free liquor policy.

But, now I live in a 'young, hip' neighborhood of Los Angeles, and my food plight has been rectified many times over. The taco stands have vegetarian options. A bulk food mart is less than two blocks from my apartment. I hear tell there is a Trader Joe's round these parts, and I plan to plunder it within the next day or two. Food, delightful food, free for the taking (after you pay for it).

Of course, all is not perfectly well, as I have to start learning my 3rd language a mere 3 days from now. I have not bought the textbooks, so I really hope the bookstore on campus is open before 8:30 am next Monday. Because that's when my class starts. My class, which goes for 4 hours a day and happens 5 days a week. I mean, I know I hate myself, but this is really taking it to extremes.

Lastly, I have a new roommate, which so far has been a good experience. She is slight and dainty and Australian. This morning we talked over coffee about our mutual dislike of Scarlett Johansson. That remains a surefire way into my good graces.