In August 2023, after three months in Japan and three in South Korea, I returned to my favorite country for another three months (“Im Home | ????“).
Perfect days ensued: in Tokyo with close friends, or in Tohoku, where I embarked on a festival sprint. Morioka Sansa Odori Festival, Kakunodate, and Akita Kanto Festival took my breath away (“Days of Perfection | ?????“). Aomori Nebuta Festival, hellish Osore-zan, and Sendai Tanabata Festival ended this marathon with a bang. I started working remotely for an Israeli travel agency specializing in Japan. Yet I couldn’t stop missing the Korean guy (“Happy | ???“).
Yamagata, Nyuto Onsen, and a private tour of a sake factory continued the Tohoku adventure (“Kesem in Kesennuma | ???????“). Dewa Sanzan pilgrimage surprised me with a strong contender for my favorite shrine in Japan (“A Journey of Re-Birth | ????????“).
Then I returned to the digital detox ryokan that changed my life exactly six months prior. I resumed my search of a Japanese guest from there who never left my heart (“Farewell Civilization, Yet Again | ??????????“).
At the toxic Tamagawa Onsen, I suffered my most intense soaking in Japan. I met TV personalities at a live show, and attended the Funekko Nagashi Festival in Morioka. Broken promises from friends and psychosomatic skin problems aggravated me (“The Last Straw, Part 1 | ?????????“). Tanbo Art Festival, Hirosaki, Aomori, and Omagari Fireworks Festival couldn’t ease my mind, since I was waiting for a reply from the Japanese guy (“The Last Straw, Part 2 | ?????????“).
At last, it came from his mom. Her message turned me down without confirming whether or not he was the right guy. My search for him had started in Sendai station during Round One, and ended in Sendai station now. I hated Sendai, hated Matsushima, and hated humankind (“The Last Straw, Part 3 | ?????????“).
A road trip and a nocturnal hike with my best friend on Fuji-san led to the highest and most beautiful place I’d inhabited (“Four Months in Japan | ???????“). Yet the wonders of nature always reminded me that humans were foul. Not even Tokyo’s Koreatown or Yokohama’s Chinatown could overshadow how my friend suddenly turned his back on me, and the travel agency disappeared. I vowed to never trust anyone (“The Final Spark | ?????“).
Tasty Asakusa, a pitch-black hot spring, art museums, a mosque, and frustrating dates backdropped my puzzlement at the meaning of love (“The Mystery of Love | ????“). I was torn between hating humans and needing them in my life (“Tokyo Blues | ???“).
Thrilled to leave the biggest and most alienating city on this planet, I returned to Hokkaido, my favorite place in Japan. Prime sushi and a business dinner in Sapporo made way for a new guy (“Hokkaido Homesick | ?????“). Even though Sapporo Pride disappointed me with its tameness, the Chinese guy I started dating made me fall in love (“The Rabbit Hole | ???????“).
I still didn’t know what this feeling was. But I had to leave for Japan’s northernmost islands. Back in July, a mountain hut, a goblin festival, and a penis park in South Korea’s east coast had also paused a budding urban romance. Vomit, windstorms, and the wackiest hostel on Earth continued this trend at present (“Somewhere on the Northernmost Island in Japan | ????????“). Yet as I road-tripped around Rishiri Island, the Korean guy refused to talk to me now (“The Black Lovers Hill | ??????“).
Once I moved in with the Chinese in Sapporo, dating proved harder than I’d thought. I started working at a cabbage farm, and recognized my depression within my friends (“The Heavy Balloon | ????“). Farm work, a simple lifestyle, and the pangs of mortal existence made life taste as bittersweet as a cabbage (“Country Boys Make Do | ????“).
An existential end to my stint at the farm was followed by the brown hot spring and a blue pond (“Hollow Blue | ????“). At the birthday ryokan from Round One, I saw fall colors for the first time (“Five Months and Four Seasons in Japan | ??????????“). Repeated encounters with Israelis in Asahikawa, Asahidake, Kawayu Onsen, and Lake Akan couldn’t have prepared me for the worst massacre in Israel’s history (“Tel Aviv in Hokkaido, Massacre in Israel | ??????????????????“).
I’d been looking for a job in Hokkaido, fearing my inevitable return to Israel three weeks from now. Then the October 7 massacre stranded me in Japan. War in Israel rained on the Marimo Festival’s parade in Lake Akan, until a reunion with the Chinese and a visa extension offered new possibilities (“Make Marimo, Not War | ??????????????“).
Yoichi, Otaru, and the ups-and-downs of dating someone made it clear: as long as I was traveling, I was just a passenger in people’s lives (“The Passenger | ??“). A road trip put me behind the wheel in Japan’s roads and a relationship. I adored the romantic foliage around Sapporo, Lake Toya, and Jozankei, and my partner to all of this. He wanted to build a life together. But I had to go look for a job, to make that work out (“The Driver | ???“).
I left Hokkaido for Tohoku, where I was swindled and mocked. I participated in a Wanko Soba eating marathon, and beheld fall colors blanketed by snow (“Things Go South, Yet Again | ???????“). An adoptive Japanese grandma from Kakunodate became a rock in times of trouble, while a new Taiwanese friend shone in Nyuto Onsen’s yellow groves (“The Master of Energy | ??“).
Peak foliage injected color into an anxious routine of job hunting and visa consultations. During a solo road trip to Fukushima’s mountains, the Chinese turned down my offer of a long-distance relationship (“Half a Year in Japan | ??????“).
I reached Utsunomiya, stone quarries, Tokyo’s Koreatown, and a dead end. Back in the biggest city on Earth, I was helpless. The only person I could trust – the Chinese – turned his back on me, because he felt that I had forsaken him (“Dead End | ?????“).
With no one to count on, I began volunteering at a language cafe, and tried to move on with increasingly disappointing dates (“Back to Square One | ???????“). On my days off, an escape to the Izu Peninsula led to the fanciest hostel in Japan, archery at the crater of an extinct volcano, waterfalls, art, and a broken heart (“The Writing Boy of Izu | ?????“).
Time continued to loop with more art museums, more shifts at the language cafe, more lonely nights of clubbing, and an ugly breakup (“Tokyo Time Loop | ???????“).
A job interview led me to Kyoto, where temples bled red leaves. Maples and romantic failure were the epitome of romanticism. Kyoto finally made me smile (“Trial by Fire | ????“).
My autumnal marathon encompassed fiery leaves, unrequited longing, and sudden tears; geishas, grief, anxiety, and thirty shrines and temples in one week. Until an accident in Sakurai’s temples recreated my bike crash from Round One (“The Torch Song | ??????“).
Bedridden in Osaka with a sprained ankle, I rested at the biggest onsen in Japan, then overcame my pain at Fushimi Inari, a couch-surfing cafe in Kyoto, Himeji, and a Yokai Festival (“Seven Tumultuous Months in the Land of the Rising Fun | ???????????????“). I returned to the abandoned cave temples in Shodoshima that had made me live in the present, and limped to the cliff where I’d crashed (“The Temple that Changed My Life | ????????“).
Snoozy Takamatsu, sexually perverse Uwajima, quaint Matsumoto, and a triumphant return to Iya Valley – yet another dangerous slice of nature from Round One that changed my life – made way for an unforgettable dish and date in Kochi. It was official: no pain, whether emotional or physical, could stop me from exploring and making the most out of life (“The Thrill Seeker | ????????“).
Yet an academic paper, a dwindling budget, and subpar attractions haunted me through Matsuyama, Onomichi, Kurashiki, and Izumo Taisha (“The Burnout / ????“). Snow at Tottori Sand Dunes and Kinosaki Onsen heralded a white Christmas, when sickness in Kyoto ruined end-of-year plans (“The Cold Spell | ????“).
Recuperating with couch-surfing friends in Kyoto was marred by Nagoya, and the reminder that no one had my back (“Eight Months in Japan | ????????“). Heartbroken and helpless, I began volunteering at an obscure temple. My unrequited longing persisted as I hiked to a snowy temple with a unique view of Mt Fuji (“Temple Life | ??????“).
Working at a temple offered a cherished, simple lifestyle, comforting friendships, and a trip to Japan’s forgotten gems. But my nine-month visa was expiring, without an adequate job offer (“The Winds of Change | ????“).
I bid Japan farewell at the same cemetery from Round One. My life was still going nowhere, in terms of career, love, and dreams. But I’d learned to live as if there was no tomorrow, and lose myself in the present. I even rejoiced over my decreasing budget and increasing baggage. They made reality more memorable (“Sayonara, Yet Again | ????????“).