"Do your best!" I tell myself as I am stalled on the incline of the hill with my supervisor right next to me. He's saying something in Japanese, but by that point in the driving lesson I'm too tried and frustrated to translate what he's saying. I just do the Japanese grunt, "un" and say "hai" after he finishes his sentence. That was driving lesson number 2.
Before moving to Japan, I bought my predecessor's old car for a great price-I didn't have to pay the additional tax included in Japanese vehicles for maybe another year. Only downside of paying such a low price was learning how to drive a standard car. I learned how to drive on an automatic, but deep down I always wanted to learn how to drive a manual. Well, my wish came true. Before my predecessor left the island, she gave a couple of lessons and was impressed by how quickly I picked up standard driving. I think I may have gotten a little cocky because when I had lessons with supervisor he sprung some challenges on me...the uphill start. The first lesson was fine and it was obvious that I needed to starting on a hill. There are no excuses or ways around this; I have to learn because Iki is just one great big hill after another. Driving lesson 2 was just a disaster. I slipped into the stage 2 of culture shock quite easily after it was over. I cursed at myself for buying a manual car and was thinking of ways I could switch the little Toyota Starlet for an automatic. I was able to drive home that day, but could hardly pull a smile when my supervisor said goodbye. I ran upstairs to my apartment and broke down crying. At a lost of what to do and definitely in need of someone to talk to, I logged onto facebook and did the obvious cry for help....update my status. I searched the sidebar for close friends I could message and pour my soul to, but there was none at that point. Well, there was one person, but I wasn't sure if he wanted to be bothered by problems. However, two wonderful people replied to my status and one my good friends logged on. I then called my mother and whined for an hour. I love my mother because she has this tender way of telling me to suck it up, but at the same time encouraging me to be the best.
The next day was driving lesson number 3. I was so nervous about it, I had dreams the night before. More like nightmares. I watched youtube videos for most of the day and practiced with my feet in my living room. My friends gave more words of encouragement, but I realized I needed to encourage myself. It was me who was getting in the way of mastering the uphill start. After my supervisor picked me up, I drove to the hill. It was like David staring down the giant. I wonder if my supervisor noticed the intense glare that I gave to the hill.
I messed up a couple of times, got it and then messed up again. But I remember what my mother and friends told me, 1)keep my composure and 2) I don't have to be perfect. Things take practice, which is something I struggle with being a perfectionist. I want to be perfect right away and skip the practice part. Whenever I stalled, I just laughed it off and tried again. When it seemed that I wasn't getting it on one of the hills, I pictured one of the youtube clips that I watched. The voice of an Irish guy filled my head with the steps on making an uphill start. And from there it worked. I took my time.At one point, I went away from stop sign on a hill so smoothly, my supervisor yelled out "yatta! Yosh," which is Japanese for....well it doesn't translate well into English. But it was like he was saying, "YEAH! Alright!"
I was proud that I didn't walk away from the challenge and faced it head on.
I'm going for another driving lesson and yes I'm nervous, and I will most likely stall on the hill, but I'm not letting a car get the best of my emotions. But I find it funny the challenges God throws at you and what forms they come in. So far mine has been in the shape of a little silver car with a stick and giant hills.
I guess this is growing up, yeah?
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