I love this country. I didn’t always, and truthfully don’t even always know or understand why I do now. Since living here, I’ve tried my best to shed my foreigner skin. I’ve tried my best to entrench myself into the culture.
It’s not an easy task. A country as old as this has traditions deeply entrenched. I’m not stupid, and nor do I think I could ever truly begin to understand most of this. Days, weeks, and even months go by where I feel like I’m becoming more than a foreigner. These are usually nothing more than momentary glitches in the fabric of a place that doesn’t accept change easily.
I may well sometimes feel like I’ve become an inhabitant. I feel like I’ve become part of the landscape, just a face in the crowd.
There in lies the problem; my face. I’ve come to the realization that I will always be fighting against the grain. I’ve come to the realization of what I am.
I’m an outsider.