It should never get longer than a month.

And what a month it has been. Somewhere between exploring Tokyo and Kyoto, checking out the Kiriko Matsuri in Noto, watching sumo at a normal hour (which is pretty much the weirdest thing ever), riding the uber trains, and eating the food I can neither read nor pronounce nor identify, I somehow became able to communicate in Japanese. Awesome. Mission accomplished.

My friends from Princeton came to visit me in Kanazawa last weekend, which served to remind me of two things: that I had come a really long way in my study of the Japanese language, and that I had missed them. It was just like old times, only we were all in Japan. It was a feeling that's weird in ways I can't really describe, probably since I've never been so far from what I'm used to. I've loved every minute of it, though. Even so, I'll be happy to return to the land of giant portions of fried food, hatred for the metric system, driving on the right, and a lack of knowledge of kanji. I'll take some time off, and hopefully I can come back to Japan again sometime soon. Thesis research, perhaps?

This weekend, my summer in Japan culminates with my trip to Nagoya to watch the last two days of the basho live. If that's not fun, I think I'll pretty much have to hang myself above the dohyo. I hope you will be rooting for me as I scream “MIYABIYAMAAA” at the top of my lungs.

Genki de ne.