Older, and Possible Wiser

September 21st, 2007, 3.15pm: Sitting at the same highly polished table, in front of the same broken, ink-stained whiteboard, in the exact same musty classroom I found myself a year and a half prior, you'd be forgiven for thinking that, like some old relic, I hadn't moved in all this time.

And it doesn't actually feel like I've changed at all as I sit here, trousers valiantly sticking to my legs and the imitation leather chair beneath my frame, sweating in a classroom still with heat.

A gust of cool air from a fan slicing through thick humidity tears me from these thoughts, and with my tongue I casually prod the newly acquired third molars jutting from the upper region of my mouth. That's a change: they hadn't yet made their presence known the last time I was here. I still recall the last visit to my dentist, Mr. Myers, who sagely informed me that although my upper thirds had emerged triumphantly, the lower two had found their way beneath my seconds, and were stuck; embedded in bone as hard as rock.

The adaptability of the mouth is actually something that impresses me: any change, regardless of how significant, is hastily acknowledged and accepted by our brain, and we come to feel as though nothing has ever been any different. It is the same place, but with a new element: something gained or something lacking.

On the journey to my current location, standing on a crowded bus bound for Yokohama, a frail old dear of about 5 feet in stature relentlessly punched me in my back, as I was obstructing her in her effort to de-board. Upon my arrival in Yokohama, I decided to try my bank card: unused for a year and a half and for an account containing 3 yen (3 cents, 1 1/2 pence), to see if, by some small chance, it still worked. To my astonishment, my account has indeed been kept open, as if they knew that I would end up back here.

As I sit in this muggy classroom awaiting a group of old ladies not so very different from my earlier assailant, I wish I was somewhere else. Drinking with my mates in the beautiful British sunshine, listening to some new Lewis Parker, Jehst or Task Force ruggedness, like I was 3 weeks before. Or with my girlfriend, chatting shit and arguing over who's more of an arsehole. Or cotching with my brothers, watching TV and chatting over who's more of an arsehole. In any event I'm here for the afternoon, and after a year and a half break from it back in the UK, I'm starting to wonder which set of third molars provides a better analogy for my life in Japan.