that time Cynthia was my roommate (sleeping with knives)

I was really lucky to meet Cynthia. Our friendship helped me change and grow as a person. She was a big influence on me both in the short-term (can you please wear pants) and long-term (can you please clean your car and wear pants while driving). In the first months of being in Japan, she was the person I became close to the most quickly and easily. And it all started with the Western Japan Heavy Rain Disaster of 2018.

Cynthia and I were both Group C 2018 Jets. We flew in, did Tokyo orientation, and were shipped off to our inaka placement at the same time. Most importantly, we were the only two women assigned to Takaya town in Higashihiroshima city. So when the BOE got the news that Cynthia's apartment wouldn't be ready on time (I guess the previous tenants were delayed in leaving because of the disaster- trains and other public transportation weren't running, a lot of roads were down, maybe they couldn't get movers? no clue), they emailed Cynthia and told her she'd be rooming with me for a few weeks.

We corresponded for a bit over email. Cynthia and I were initially confused because the BOE kept using male pronouns for us in their initial emails, and not giving names (Hello Cynthia, do you mind if another ALT lives with you? He is Canadian), etc. I don't think either of us would have minded having a male roommate so long as they didn't turn out to be a complete creep, but it's been really clear since then that our BOE will do anything they can to gender-segregate male and female ALTs.

Anyway, we both consented to sharing accommodations for a bit and were given each other's emails. After the 'wait why is his name Natalie/Cynthia' confusion was cleared up, we exchanged info about our hobbies and stuff in true Japanese jiko shokai fashion.

We didn't cross paths at orientation. Usually people cling to the JETs they fly in with. For a lot of people who've boneded with fellow ALTs from their same home cities, this might be the last time they see each other in Japan. I made a few new friends and got a few business cards from people I have since almost completely forgotten. Except you, bandana Allen. I will never forget... call me

Cynthia and I met for the first time as we were geting ready to take the bus to the airport with the other Hiroshima JETs. She seemed cool. I was like oh, ok. I ended up assigned sitting with Cooper on the plane, but I think Cynthia was in the same car with me to the BOE from the airport. After meeting the superintendant of education for the first and only time, and completely butchering our Japanese script (I literally said blegh and oh my god, and I tested into one of the highest Japanese levels out of all Hiroshima newbies for language camp. RIP), it was time to head on home.

After a brief stint at the supermarket, we were left to our own devices in my new apartment. My spartan new apartment. With no furniture, only one futon and blanket. . . is this a romantic comedy? *eyes emoji*

I was given like two plates, two forks and a knife. Cynthia insists that she grabbed that knifey boi and slept with it under her pillow for the duration of our cohabitation. I believe her.

We arrived just before Obon weekend (which is also my birthday), so all the local stores were closed except 7/11 (my true love, my light in the darkness). And with no public transportation, no cars, and no clue who anybody else was or how to contact them, we were pretty much stranded together in my apartment with no wifi. Which meant we had to actually talk to each other?

It went pretty well IMO. 5/7, perfect score. She made me a birthday cake and we sacrificed the candles to Shrek. I knew from that point onwards we'd be homies.

I was right! Over the next two years we hung out, committed some crimes, and she taught me super important life lessons like how to exude threatening dong energy and why you should use bleach to clean the black mold in your shower. I was sad to see her go when she broke contract last month.

But as fate would have it, since my apartment is closest to the airport, she ended up staying at my apartment for two nights before flying back home. It was kinda nostalgic, although this time we each had our own futon. It sort of book-ended my time in Japan for me in a way. And this time, we both had knives to put under our pillows.