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Published: June 21st 2006
...The final leg of my tour is accompanied by an amalgamation of indiscernible emotions. I sat with a larger than life frown in Hong Kong International Airport as the tourism official ploughed on with her inquisition despite my obvious disinterest. Truth be told, I suppose I was glad for the distraction for I was more than reluctant to be leaving people and a country that had hosted me so well. Yes, Nick you can take that as a personal compliment! I flew, Hong Kong to Singapore, having no time to exploit the free internet and other services at Changi Airport before being swiftly hauled onto a connecting flight that would bring me here: to the home of bullet trains, technological advance, strange foods and shinto temples, where beneath the concrete jungle of buildings, lurks a scurry of life steeped in cultural traditions and a way that is, authentically Japanese. In fact, so Japanese that after seven months of solo travel across the globe, I am experiencing the most extensive cultural shock suffered thus far. At the moment I am in the big T - the capital city of Tokyo, which, I had presumed to be relatively international. Yet, I find myself
in a linguistic jam, where the tools of communication and comprehension are beyond my reach. Whilst this reduces functionality and practicality to a minimum, I am trying, as you said Ant, to have fun with it. In response to the service with a scowl that I sometimes receive here, I offer the universally understood large beaming grin, to which the reactions are varied and amusing. Some suddenly find fascination with their feet as they abashedly look downward, others reciprocate with a shy reserved smile of their own, whilst some, just become further enraged by this strange smiling gaijin that they display by furrowing their frowns... it really is amusing...
...At first appearance, to use Thatcher's vocabulary, Tokyo is an atomistic society, awash with individualism. But, underneath this cloak, pumps the lifeblood of social cohesion, where the atoms are stuck together forming the molecules of Japanese society - something solid, and seemingly impenetrable. I am grateful to have a friend - Yuichiro, here to guide me around and act as interpretor in my endeavours. Though, our friendship is not without its own communication problems. We are acquainted from our time spent living in France, three years ago, since which time
neither of us have used our French extensively nor daily. Given that our only common language is French, the pair of us end each day with brain-ache from all the vocabulary searching through the linguistic voids of our minds...aie... So, as I say, I am incommunicado in more ways than one, and as you may have discovered, my cell phone does not function out here either. After a lengthy and confusing three-way conversation in an electronics store yesterday, I eventually decided not to purchase a local phone.
...I arrived in Ginza early for my rendez-vous with Yu, and spent time walking the sparkling clean malls looking at clothing whose buttons I could barely afford, let alone the actual garments. As the haute-couture clad, fashion conscious Japanese strode past me sporting dark suits, crisp shirts, high heels, designer bags or embroidered kimono, tottering about in those famous wooden slippers, I felt somewhat out of place... I took to the streets to browse some of the bakeries and sweet stores (Aleem - enough said). Impressive as some of the displays were, as I have mentioned before, nobody does desserts like the Europeans. Eastern desserts all seem to be either gloopy and
sticky piles of mess, and/or bear the luminous colours of poisonous animals that the Orientals seem to think make foods aesthetically pleasing. Hm. I am inlclined to disagree, and apologise if I am offending anyone who happens to be a fan of such foods. Once Yu arrived, he bought three sweet bean paste filled buns (bright purple and vivid green of course), insisting that I try some. This is one dessert that did not get finished...Next, we were off to Kabuki, the theatrical, melodramatic all male performance, dating from the 17th Century. I did enjoy the parts that I managed to stay awake through...Dinner time. Tempura. Proper, Japanese tempura as opposed to yukky foreign imitations that I have repulsed at in the past. Gobbled it up not really knowing what all the bits and pieces were, but enjoying it anyway...Oh, and it took us a whole day to learn that shrimp in French is "crevette"... aie. This has been a long week. Oh, wait, I've only been here two days...I was carried, on the trains and through the streets by the rushing swarms of people, to the area of Shibuya, ablaze with neon lights, loud noise and an excited ambiance,
Senso-ji
irresistable eateriesas loyal fans sported blue shirts awaiting 4am kick-off. I dunno what they were all so excited about, the Japs were playing the Brazilians...We continued walking around as Yu introduced me to the riddle of contradictions that Japan is, a forward thinking, modern looking, sky-scraping facade supported by veins of tiny back streets, incense filled Shinto temples and the remnants of another era...Japan in some ways reminds me of London - I haven't yet decided whether the stomach sick feeling this induces is homesickness, or, that I dislike it precisely because it is so reminiscent of home.... I don't know...Went to bed at 3am, nursing the mosquito bite, which if grows any bigger, will be mistaken for a third arm, and, attempting to sleep in the claustrophobic confines of my box that is supposed to be a room, but in which I couldn't swing a dead hamster, let alone a cat. Sitting, or rather, crouching, on my bed, I can touch all the four walls and the ceiling. So this is what they mean by lack of space in the 12.5million populated city of Tokyo... something of a difference from the entire room, two beds and a bathroom that I
Yuichiro
sampling sweet patisserie luxuriated in "Chez Dean" - thanks Nick! ;-)
...I am no longer the self-bashing 5am slave driving morning monster that I used to be, and smiled, as I crawled out of bed at 11am, without an ounce of guilt... today was good; lots of journal scribbling...
- Tokyo to Kyoto -
...I sat on the platform awaiting my train and watching the white gloved crisp suited staff, and the shiny sleek shinkansen glide past in smooth, silenced grace. For most of the journey I slept, the shiver of air-conditioning vents occasionally opening my eyes to mountains, rice paddies, housing settlements, overcast skies and other blurred images through rain swept windows. When I arrived in Kyoto it was still raining. I took the hand-drawn map and trudged through the streets. Found the hostel. Too early to check in. Caught a bus to the flea market at Kitano Tenmangu and sampled a few of the munchies on offer. No sooner had I checked in, that I acquainted myself with my new roommates and was on a bicycle with Chris and Shawna speeding through the warm wet streets of Kyoto at night. Much to the amusement of Chris, we
survived several near-crashes before deciding to stop for food. We walked into a local place serving up okinomiyaki, made fresh on the hotplates at the table. Yum. En route home we had just enough time to stop for ice-cream before England took on Ecuador....
-- Osaka --
...Really, there isn't much I can tell you about Osaka that would not agitate my frustrations. This is not to say that Osaka isn't a great place. It might be. But my own experiences would suggest otherwise. Once finally emerging from the mammoth station, I walked to the Sky Building. Overall an unimpressive and disappointing day, made worthwhile only by the discovery of a new artisan chocolatier, to add to my growing list of tasteries...
-- Kyoto --
...Sat, in some random cafe situe a cote d'un studio yoga que je viens de trouver. Today, even words fail me...
...In a teahouse in the back streets of Gion, my mind remains congested, muggy and drowned in the polluted rivers of pessimism through which the rodents of cynicism run. It is a far cry from the clarity with which I had hoped to return and I am
sure that Life will continue to show me her course - one over which I feel I have no control but still feel I ought. Sigh...
...I walked on past the station, above the spaghetti-like structure of rail lines, to the streets filled with local Japanese getting food at some of the local joints. One in particular, serving up only bowls of hot ramen. It's opening hours of 6am - 2am, and consistently long queues was all the enticement I needed. I walked in to a tiny place crowded with Japanese businessmen. "Irashymassse....Ichi?" "Hai, ichi" I responded. "Ramen?" I nodded, undertaking the silent agreement of accepting whatever was placed in front of you. I was offered a stool by the open kitchen and I watched the team of chefs work furiously to keep pace with the flow of customers. The ramen, needless to say, was delicious. From there I found my way to the Shosei-en garden. Pretty. I was bored and didn't really know what to do with myself. I know, I was in a Unesco World Heritage city, call me ungrateful, but I didn't care much for it. I stopped by the canal at a cafe for a
drink and fell asleep on the sofa... I woke and walked along the picturesque canalside, lined with willow trees hanging onto the walkway, cyclists ringing their bells and fishermen standing in the knee-deep water. Arrived at Gion; that traditionally chic cultural quarter, a place to see and be seen. Much of the old charisma and architecture has been lost to the calls of modernisation and money, but, some of it does remain intact and I enjoyed wandering the latern lined streets, watching kimono-clad women stroll around under the protective shade of their patterned umbrellas and keeping cool by fanning themselves with intricately patterned consertina fans. As I strolled past the shops, I was fed every few steps, tastes of sweet bean paste buns, biscuits and other jelly-like delicacies. In many of the shops, the Japanese in their own cute way conversed with me at length, despite my obvious miscomprehension of a single sentence. In one shop, we managed five whole minutes of conversation that invloved the England football team, David Beckham and the no.8 tshirt. Moving on from that, once they began commenting on my beautiful Indian hair, skin, eyes..etc, I reckoned I could spare a few more minutes for
an ego feed! Hehe. I stopped in a small teashop, receiving an equally warm welcome. Well, all but for the dog, who, after sizing me up and down, was left somewhere short of assured confidence, and began barking violently and snapping at my feet. Time to go. As I walked the streets, the pages of my book came to life and I could suddenly see images of 'Memoires of a Geisha' that made the book all the more worthwhile. Evening approached and I was exhausted. I decided to head home on as short a route as possible. I'd lost my map. Great. Eventually found way home and after seven hours of exploring the city on foot, all I needed was a cold shower. But, realised hostel bookings were not confirmed for tomorrow. Back to the organisation board. I am so ready to go home. Once I'd smoothed the hiccups I went up to the dorm room to pack my belongings for the millionth time since my departure...
-- Kyoto to Hiroshima --
...It was still raining when I left Kyoto and boarded the train for Okyama. There, I changed trains and was in Hiroshima within three hours.
Immediately, there was a feel-good factor about this place that seemed to wash over all the fatigue, solitude, homesickness and self pity. An overriding sense of calm in a city populated by one million people. With the rebuilding of the city after 1946, I noticed it was more spacious than many other Japanese roads, as i walked down Peace Boulevard. Using my sketchy map I was soon lost. Knowing the unlikelihood of finding English speaking help, I had few other options and went into an office to ask anyway. The employees spoke amongst themselves for a while until one man rose from his chair, took my map in his hand and guided me out to the street. Expecting to be pointed in the right direction, I stood there expectantly at the entrance whilst he proceeded to walk on. He turned and encouraged me to follow. I did. At the end of the street, he continued walking, making the odd comment on the size of my backpack. Yes, it does attract it's fair share of piteous looks. The gentleman walked me all the way to the World Friendship Center where I was staying. The sign at reception said 'come in peace,
mmm
tempura, udon and sushi go in love'. I called out to make my presence known and was greeted by the slow, rolling American accent of the elderly American couple who were running the place as volunteers. It was the warmest check-in I'd ever experienced. My bags were carried upstairs whilst I was taken into the living room and equipped with maps, information and directions to make the most of my 24hour stay worthwhile. They didn't actually have any room for me, but agreed to lay me some bedding on the classroom floor. Happy to be in Hiroshima, I walked to the Peace Park and visited the Peace Memorial Museum. I decided at some point during the day that endless days of homesickness were more than just a passing phase and to lengthen my stay without will was just stupid. So, I found a phonebooth and called the airline to make the necessary changes. That should have given me some consolation, and it did. For some time. But soon enough, the end of the month seemed far. Too far. I walked through the Peace Park toward the shopping arcade. As I crossed the bridge, two women, dressed elegantly in dresses, hats and long gloves approached
me. The brighter of the two, with a red dress and shiny black curls that fell about her face began speaking to me excitedly through an impish grin and gaps between her teeth which contributed to her child-like excitedness. Her high cheekbones and sharp eyes however, conveyed an air of authority that she oozed. Once I'd deciphered her invitation, I agreed to sit with them a while and tell them about my adventures. Their wide eyes and small squeals of delight gave me a seat in stardom for twenty minutes before another young woman approached and apologetically interrupted the conversation to ask whether she could practice her energy healing on us. I took the opportunity to leave the two women, and besides, I'd been involved in energy healing myself, this could be interesting. Her practice on me ended in an invitation to attend class and a lift there/back... I continued my day, walking through the covered arcade of Hondori, and found what I was looking for: Anderson's Bakery. I wandered round this flour sprinkled heaven in awe. I think that has more to do with Aleem than any exception with this artisan bakery. I went round the tasting baskets and
picked up stilton bread, wine bread and the local sourdough. It was impossible to without a purchase, the only difficulty was in choice. I opted for a coffee croissant and some fig bread... Dinner had to have been 'okinomiyaki'. As soon as I entered the restaurant, I was greeted by a chorus of "irashimaiiii"! I watched the chef prepare my okinomiyaki on the hot plates in front of me. Was delish, but by the time I'd worked my way through the whole thing, I could barely walk. As the sun began to set and I made way back to the WFC, I heard the irresistible sounds of a guitar. I descended the bridge to investigate and found two exceptionally talented musicians singing and playing guitar. I took a seat on the floor by the water's edge and listened til dark...
...The morning came far too quickly and I wanted nothing more than to stay in my makeshift bed on that classroom floor. But, Don and Pauline, bless them, had woken at 6am just to prepare my breakfast and so I went down to find freshly brewed English tea, buttered toast and a bowl of cereal. Well fed and happy
Kyoto
walking to Gion with the sunshine that hadn't shone in days, I took the tram to the port, which was fortunately the final stop because I slept the entire journey. At the port, I re-met the Czech girl from Kyoto and took the ferry across with them to Miyajima, where the floating shitori is one of the three most photographed spots in Japan. The sun that day was unrelenting and whilst the break in stormy weather was gratefully received, it compounded my fatigue, and only with the encouragement of my companions did I make around the tourist trail and up the hill for ropeway viewing...When I finally arrived back at the WFC, bags packed and ready to leave, I must've looked a sight, for I invoked a piteous look from Donald who sympathetically offered me another room for the night. He made a mattress on the tatami mats, drew the curtains, put the air-conditioning on and instructed me to sleep. I didn't argue. By 2pm I was showered, and lying still on the mattress. I didn't give a care in the world that I would consequently miss my travel to Fukuoka and whatever I had planned to see there. I simply wanted to
go home. I did some re-organising and reading before falling asleep at 5pm. I awoke at 8pm un-able to re-enter the kingdom of dreams but I didn't mind; it was cool, dark and peaceful and I could finally rest...
-- Hiroshima to Nagasaki --
...I awoke refreshed and famished. I had rested well but hadn't eaten since yesterday's breakfast at 7am. Downstairs, the table had already been laid - a hot french toast, smothered with cinnamon and maple syrup. A bowl of fruit, some apple juice and English tea. Sigh. Life is sweet again. I didn't really want to leave the WFC so I delayed my departure. Went back to the Peace Park to use the internet facilities (so hard to come by in this country). The consequence of two small hours of organisation and decision making was an insurmountable amount of stress, comparable only to the days of my studenthood that I thought I had left behind long ago. Though back then, I would at least have my loved ones who cared enough to listen...
...I stood at the Hiroshima platform awaiting the shinkansen bullet train, just ready to bite into my lunch when a
stern looking train guard approched. My "konichiwa" was rewarded by an unfolding of the crease lines into a a bright gaping smile that illuminated his unusually blue eyes. With his broken English and my limited Japanese comprehension, we managed to converse for twenty minutes. I watched the trains glide gracefully and silently into the station with gleaming white armour. With white gloved, sharply dressed staff bowing as the trains pulled in, the whole scene was something of a wonderful spectacle. The doors would slide open and orderly streams of lined passengers would disembark. The train then left without a second of delay. I never tired of watching this calming process... My meditations were interrupted once again by the train guard who asked what I had learned were a standard series of inquisitive questions from my marital status to my nationality. This time though I got asked too, about my career ambitions. Jeeez; will the world just leave me alone deja?! je ne sais pas encore! I was in my seat midst contemplating the kindness which I had found surprising (highlighting perhaps my own preconceptions and prejudices) when a beautiful young Japanese woman beside me seemed to read my thoughts and
prompted conversation on the subject. Again, in broken English but enough to make the basic exchange the of information and small-talk. I was surprised enough when she wanted to take a photo of me, but that was not all. Her stop had arrived, and when I thought she'd exited the train, she rushed back through the doors to hold my hand, bid me farewell and tell me how wonderful it had been to meet me. It's for those wonderful little moments that I travel. I soon arrived at my own stop Fukuoka and changed trains to board a supersonic express to Nagasaki, where I arrived groggy, and unwilling; unwilling to participate in the game called life. Found the youth hostel, showered and sat with some French lads, drinking sake until late...
...Next morning I woke to re-commence training. A ran. A whole fifteen minutes before I was crippled with lower back pain and gasping for breath in the thick humid air. I lay unashamedly on a park bench until the pain subsided. Beyond that, my time in Nagasaki continued to be painful; boredom of my own company ensued and lingered for three days. I spent time strolling shopping malls,
the Seaside Park, the Quayside and Chinatown. Primarily though, I wrote. I got lost for endless hours inside cafes, with time flowing as smoothly as the ink through my pen...
...More of the same. Some sunshine. Some rain. Lots of solitude. Some moments of colour splashed the canvas though; like the locals in the street who stop to ask for my photograph, or the kindly woman who gave me her umbrella, or the interesting variety of foods to taste in the foodhall...
-- Nagasaki to Tokyo --
...yes, I did make the trek from one end of the country to the other in a day. Changing several bullet trains and arriving in Tokyo to get busy on the metrolines to get to Asakusa. That 15min walk to the hostel made sure that if I wasn't nauseas already from a full day of horizontal rollercoasters known as bullet trains, I certainly was by the time I checked in. The events were eased by the familiarity with Tokyo, and in the evening I headed out for hot tempura and miso soup (and some muscat ice cream to finish off). By now accustomed to that tiny cardboard box, I
swiftly drifted off and the 6am alarm woke me no sooner than I had laid my head...
...Having showered and slept in my clothes the night before, all that was required was a collecting of my things and I was on the move again. I reached the subway by 8am and waded through the hoards of human traffic commuting their way to salaries around the city. The train journey to northern Honshu was undeniably scenic. The rolling green mountains were intercepted occasionally by small towns or condensed housing establishments. The shinkansen arrived into Sendai by 9am - the day had barely begun and I felt ready for bed. Consequential to a few miscommunications and my own straddling around, it took a while for me to finally get onto the 'correct' local line train. Three stops down I was told that this was the end of the line. Nice. I got off to find myself in a quiet village like place, under the suspicious eyes of elderly ladies. I stood and stared blankly at the Japanese inscriptions on the timetable. Hm. Knowing the unliklihood of finding an English speaker, I simply stated the name of my destination and pointed to
anderson's
this one's for you aleem... the timetable. The woman understood and babbled away with instructions of which I couldn't understand a single word, but comprehended fully the sense of what she was trying to convey. Wow, you really can communicate without words. It's a whole new world. I could either get on the next train and change six stops down, or, wait til the 10:35 train. That was 40mins away, so , I boarded the next train. That train, got stuck. For an hour. Of course, every ten mins or so, the Japanese passengers were comforted with an explanation and alternative travel advice. I simply sat there, numb with fatigue. Evenutally the train chugged along and I descended once again for what would be my 6th change-over that day, and it wasn't even midday yet. You know, travel wouldn't be such a bitch if it wasn't for the kilos strapped to front and back. I know, much of that is owing to my own stupid spending sprees, but that doesn't prevent my moaning about it...
-- Northern Honshu : Miyagi-ken : Oku-Matsushima : Nobiru --
...Basically, somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, where even solitude has a hard time being found. Sat,
sandwiched between the endless murky grey of the sea, and the sky. Six months ago, when I was starting out on my travels, someone told me that the best remedy for lower moments was watching the waves, and he was right. I sat for ages watching the tide roll in and out, mesmerized by this unending natural monotony. The countdown since that day back in Rarotonga has come down to less than a month til my return. Though right now, on mile upon mile of empty beach, 12 flying hours away from home, even that seems too far... I arrived at the station, picking up a sketchy hand drawn map. Walked over the bridge and through the pine forest, inhaling deeply the air fragrant and moist. The hostel was surprisingly grand. A spruce place in the middle of a pine forest. The large wooden doors creaked as I opened them and stepped into a vast, empty silence. An attendant appeared and checked me in. I had a four bed dorm to myself. Not just that. I had the whole damn place to myself! There wasn't a single other guest in the entire 20room hostel! It was nice, new, clean but...
Hiroshima
Peace Park empty. In search of some noise to distract from the volume in my own troubled mind, I went for a walk. Found the beach - miles of deserted shoreline. Sat for as long as I could bear before going back to the hostel where I closed the curtains, crawled into bed and hoped that I would wake from this nightmare. I decided that night that despite having paid for two nights, I simply couldn't stay another...
...In the morning I made an early departure, my mood not really improving until I got back into the buzz of city life; my comfort zone. In Sendai I eased, with the bright lights and buzz of people. Back in Tokyo, I wanted to stay, but had made plans ahead. So, eight trains, nine hours and not a few miscommunications later, I arrived in Kawaguchiko. It's lake location at the base of Mt.Fuji at least gave this town a place on the map and a level of human activity that would keep me sane for a couple of days. I checked into an inn with Japanese style rooms. I laid out my mattress on the floor, pulled my trainers out of my rucksack
and went ran. Ran out the stiffness of train journeys, the stresses of travel, the frustrations of organisation and the longing for home. I didn't get too far. The re-integration into sports training was not going well. Though even the short run was a powerful, negative energy releasing one. I looked forward to a long hot shower. T'was not to be. There was a hot onsen room, with large floor to ceiling window panes on two sides of the wall. On the third stood the open showers. On the upside, quick showers were efficient... that evening I had hot milk and apple pie whilst absorbing myself in the words of my favourite novelist...
...Yoga, yoghurt and bananas by the lake, after which I began the 20km walk around the lake. With the clouds hanging low, casting a grey blanket over the beautiful mountain setting, my spirits were lifted. I walked, and walked. Past the herb festival, over the bridge, past the museums, cafes and swiss festival, to the natural lodge where it was finally time to repose with a blueberry ice cream. The scene really was stunning: the ripples of the lake glistening in the midday sun, the dense
green mountains and the colourful flowers carefully primed around the wooden benches. On the way back I stopped over the brideg that crossed the two narrowest points of the lake, adjoining the mountains on either side and boasting the best views of the surrounding mountainside. I laid my bag on the floor and stood, feeling the full force of the wind sweeping in off the lake and blowing away all thoughts and feelings into a blissful nothingness. Coming around to the end of my walk, I ascended the ropeway to get great views of Mt.Fuji and the entire lake from above. I got back to the inn and had hot milk. Okay..and another apple pie :-I
...I considered staying another day in this tranquility but agitation had me running a treadmill over which I had no control. So, I headed back to the big T. I'm not sure why I love big cities, but, I do. That feeling of being swept by bullet train into a concrete jungle, a moving, heaving, writhing mass of bodies scurrying about their daily activities, of aromatic fast foods wafting through hot sticky air, of cries, whistles, shouts and whisperings in foreign voices, of
bright neon lights, banners and billboards - it really is a thrill, a joyful feeling of being at ease. By now, I was accustomed to wandering through the complex stations just knowing that somehow, I'd wind up in the right place. So I strolled slowly through Shuinjuku, Ueno and Asakusa. At the hostel I cleared some dorm space, showered and unpacked. I was eating sushi and wondering what on earth to do next when my question was answered. Ira, a sexy blonde Russian chick took a seat by me, made green tea and great conversation. That, was the basis of another fine friendship. We spent the afternoon together and dined at the local (unbeatably scrummy) sushi joint; we shared plate of caviar, crab and other concoctions. She had a date with Adam that night whilst I sat and journaled in a cafe til they kicked me out! After midnight, I was online chatting to Rekhi, and re-twisting the knickers I'd managed to unknot with indecisiveness. Aie...
...I awoke and took Ira's yoga mat to the rooftop. It was a Saturday and Asakusa lay relatively still. The clouds hung low and seemed to scrape the endless sprawl of grey rooftops
across the city. The air was hot, thick and humid. The vents spurted out more hot air onto the rooftop, heating the concrete and drenching me in sweat before I'd even begun. So, in a city of 12million people, I found my space, my own piece of paradise, and practiced. By virtue of the positive energies that Ira must've left on that mat, my workout was powerful, progressive. I showered and set about my errands. Outside the laundrette I sat on a bench and became acquainted with other foreigners staying at the same guesthouse. One Finnish rockstar, and Adam. I woke Ira at 1pm and we headed to Yoyogi Park in Harajuku whilst she recounted more of her life stories that had my admiration of her multiply tenfold. She departed in the early evening for a meeting whilst I strolled the streets of Harajuku fascinated by the punk culture and extravagance of the eccentric area... Once I'd been kicked out of the coffee shop again that night, I walked along to the Senso-ji shrine that was eerily aglow in the dark. Called Anthony before going to bed.
...Rain prevented rooftop yoga this morning. That pessimistic slant to the day
followed through to the failed shopping mission. I need a yoga mat. And, something to occupy my mind until I leave...Ira and I went out in Roppongi that night, though didn't make it to the Park Hyatt in time for the bar. The views were good though. As was the time spent in her company... On my final full day, I woke late, and was late for my rendez-vous with Yu. Adorably, he wasn't in the least annoyed. We went for sushi as arranged, and ate far more than we should've. But, hey-ho, we don't get sushi bars this good in England. He took me to Tokyu-Hands dept store to find rows of yoga mats, all shapes, colours and sizes. Needless to say, I spent a good 20mins deciding on colour and ended up with the same salmon pink I'd begun with. A final coffee together before we said our goodbyes. I continued on to walk the colourful Takashita-dori before my appointment. Back to the hostel for more packing, shoving and pushing into the backpack. I was watched amusingly by a new German girl in the dorm who had a dry sarcastic sense of humour that I appreciated as I'd
missed it on my travels. Slept in my clothes so that a 5:30am departure was possible. Ira was out on her new job and so I hoped I could see her in the morning before I left...
...Fate assured that I did, for we bumped into each other as she was returning from work at 6:45am; barefoot, black silk dress, red shawl, ruffled blonde hair, tired eyes, and, beautiful as ever. We said goodbye, knowing that we might never meet again but glad for the amazing few days we'd spent in one another's company. The trek to the airport was something of an ordeal but I finally arrived at Narita...
-- Gate 27, Tokyo Narita Airport. Flight VS901 10:50 to LHR --
...'LHR' - those three characters that have appeared not infrequently in the pages of these blog entries. Six long months later I am either disbelieving, or simply indifferent. For I am as emotionless as the black tarmac out on the runway... The past few days of anticipation have been a tiresome blur...
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Yu
non-member comment
Oui!!!!
T'es bien arrivee au Japon!!!!! Treeeees bien!!