Hiroshima - Sunday morning and I've just been for my weekly ritual soak at the Hanabee Hot Spring. The only foreigner... unknowing of the cultural mistakes I am making but aware they are being made. My complete stark nakedness in front of complete strangers is culturally worlds apart from little old Perth. I am the checker piece that accidentally ended up in the chess set box. In the change room, I've forgotten my towel and have the feign confidence as I reach for the communal hairdryer in an attempt to dry myself off. I attract looks from Grandmothers modestly dressed in their big comfortable white underwear. A wave of cultural isolation hits, however it brings with it a crash of excitement of being in place that is unknown to me.
It's a beautiful day... slightly warmer than most. Sun is shining and I'm sitting on a little bench, sipping my latte and doing very little at all. This is my last week in Hiroshima and I will be sad to leave. I've enjoyed my time here, however have been challenged with cultural and linguistic isolation in a place where I can never just "blend in". I can feel a weariness and I'm ready to go home.
For the first time I am tired of building sandcastles in low tide... I yearn for something a little more permanent. This is not without conflict. Eight years of being an expat, it will be hard to go back 'home'. #timetogohome
