The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed.

James Joyce, “Araby”

I keep getting asked how come I could take three months off to go on this trip. The answer is simple: you don’t need to ask for vacation when you’re unemployed.

I’m not sure it’s a good thing.

Being on vacation for longer ever, and seeing so many fellow travellers also enjoying their time off, made me forget how such a lifestyle was not realistic in our world. It is as though I’ve temporarily gone to a pocket reality where life was different, society was different, humans were different. It’s easy to forget that most intelligent creature on the planet must labour to stay afloat. No, scratch that – to stay alive.

It’s easy to forget how mundane such a world can be, how boring existence can become. The Oscars aired last night. It’s my first time in a decade of not watching the ceremony, of not watching any movies, because our media can sometimes feel too recycled, too expected, too familiar.  

When you experience something new every day, humans suddenly seem less humdrum.

11 March 2023

• 11:15-11:30 Umeda Shimmichi to Shinsaibashi bus
• Buying new glasses
• 15:35-15:50 Namba station to Sumiyoshi-Higashi station train
• Sumiyoshi Taisha shrine (15m)
• teamLab Botanical Garden Osaka (1.5h)
• 20:00-20:25 Nagai station to Umeda station train
• Night: bar

Shinsaibashi

Today began late. I went to bed at 2:00, woke up at 9:00, and took my time in the morning.

First stop was Shinsaibashi, an upscale shopping district with literally every Western fashion brand in the world, and lots of Western establishments (e.g. Starbucks, Shake Shack). This was Saturday, so the avenues were bustling with tourists.

I entered Daimaru, an enormous department store, and went up to the 9^th floor, which included a Pokémon Café. There were no vacancies, as expected, so instead I took my time at the shop contemplating every single thing they sold, and holding myself from taking it with me. It was less about the money, and more about the fact that my suitcase was already bursting.

Still, this wouldn’t be my last time in a Pokémon shop, so I laid my eyes on a plushie or two, for my time in Tokyo.

By this point, I was practically malnourished. My stomach reminded my brain a tip it had forgotten: upscale department stores in Japan had phenomenal food halls.

Daimaru’s reminded me of Max and Spencer’s. The basement floor had pristine groceries, and lots of stalls. I stumbled into one selling Takoyaki (fried octopus balls), a local specialty I hadn’t gotten around to trying. Thus, breakfast was six of those.

Half-hungry, half well-fed, I left Daimaru in search of more food. Shinsaibashi, however, was mainly shops.

Before long, I noticed a branch of Owndays, a Japanese glasses store I’d wanted to visit in Sapporo, to buy sunglasses and a spare pair of glasses. Lo and behold, they had a 2-in-1 pair – so without further ado, I handed the clerk my prescription, which I’d printed out in advance, and picked out a pair (after a long and laborious consideration that probably exasperated the clerk a little). She let me try my lenses first, to ensure I saw well, and then, no more than ten minutes later, my new glasses were ready.

They cut the lenses on the spot in Japan.

Amerika-mura and Namba Yasaka Shrine

I put my new sunglasses on and headed out. Right next to Shinsaibashi was Amerikamura (“America village” in Japanese), another shopping district that I’d heard was like Osaka’s version of Harajuku. The vibe and landscape were completely different. Shinsaibashi was luxurious and attracted customers of all ages; Amerikamura was strictly a young people hang-out spot, with nothing but thrift shops, and arguably the best street style in the world.

Seriously, I hadn’t been to New York, but that might be the only population whose sense of style could rival Japan’s youth.

It was fun to walk around the area, even though I felt a bit lame, wearing clothes that screamed “TOURIST WHO DRESSES FOR COMFORT”. I stopped myself from visiting the thrift shops, because I knew I’d have plenty of those in Tokyo.

From here, I walked to the market, expecting to exit it with a full stomach. What happened was the opposite. It wasn’t that enticing, and the fish were remarkably expensive. I ate a few fish cakes, one of those Japanese radishes, and a fried bean curd. All very nice, but small.

It was funny how the one market I hadn’t planned on visiting – Sapporo’s – turned out to be the best. I liked the way it was organised, and the fish there were better than every other place in Japan.  

I continued to Namba Yasaka, a shrine a friend had recommended to me because it featured a gigantic lion’s head. Apart from that, there wasn’t anything noteworthy about the place, so five minutes were enough to soak it up.

As I waited in line to buy a goshuin, a Polish tourist around my age asked me what the deal was. I explained to her about collecting stamps. We talked for a while, and realised we had both come to Japan for three months. She was currently couch-surfing in Osaka for two weeks. (I thought my five nights here were excessive.) I told her I’d be going to Nara from here, and we made plans to sightsee it together.  

Sumoyishi Taisha

Next, I took the train to Sumiyoshi Taisha, probably the most important one in Osaka (I think because it was the oldest). It was also very isolated from every other attraction in the city, being in the south.

The entrance included an extremely steep bridge crossing a river. As I was climbing it, a bride and a groom, clad in kimonos, arrived. They were followed by wedding guests wearing fancy suits.

Sumiyoshi Taisha was a large complex, but didn’t take long to explore, either. It struck me how shrines did not really function as tourist attractions the way churches did. The latter featured artworks, explanations, stairs to observation decks; here, the architecture was nice, but not eye-popping. There wasn’t anything to do but pray and visit the shop.

Like Ise Grand Shrine, the lack of “bait” was probably the point. You came for the gods and the gods alone. Everything else was bells and whistles.

Since my visit to the shrine was quicker than expected, I had ample time before my final destination. I’d booked a night exhibition at Nagai Park, because it was the closest thing I could find to Sumiyoshi Taisha.

Botanical Garden Osaka

I walked there for forty minutes. My phone battery was running low. My portable charger had already died. (Overpriced piece of crap.) 7/11 were all out of portable charges (I wondered why). I bought a sushi snack – this was 17:00, and I’d only eaten six Takoyaki balls and a few fish cakes today – and went to the park, praying to the gods that there would be a café with sockets in there.

The park was large and pretty. This being the weekend, it was full of locals strolling, jogging, playing baseball, playing ball, chilling, etc. And I say “locals”, because I did not see one foreigner there. On the contrary, once again, Japanese people were staring at me every now and then.

Plum trees were blooming. I asked a girl to take my photo (had to show off my new sunglasses), and we noticed a woman with a pet pig. As the Japanese said: “すごい.”

The popular café at the park, which had a waiting list and a small Japanese garden in its centre, did not have any sockets. I went to the café next door, relieved to find that it did.

The food sucked. A small plate of fish and chips, yet again. I’d been eating so much greasy and fried food, that I yearned for a meal comprised of a simple salad and some low-fat cheese. But the latter was annoyingly expensive here in the land of the rising rice.

By 18:30, the sun had set, and it was dark enough for my exhibition.

It was a light-up event at the botanical gardens. Calming violin and xylophone music invited us visitors in. Trees were being illuminated in ever-changing colors; inflatable eggs were glowing in the dark. The Yayoi Kusama influence was palpable.

It was an Insta-fest all right, but like the light-up event at Kenrokuen, rightly so. The alternating neon hues at night gave it such a magical, other-worldly vibe, that I felt as if I’d entered a fantasy novel. The botanical gardens had become their own pocket reality, where nature operated differently.

This was how technology and art should be married, I thought. Art should take you to another world.

The only thing that sucked about this experience was going there alone. I spent half an hour at the egg area alone, trying to find someone to take my photo. Again and again, the various people I’d asked took photos I wasn’t really happy with. But I didn’t want to hold them up.

Doyama-cho… Again

I returned to my hotel, a bit frantic because my battery was again about to die. Osaka was too expansive to navigate on your own.

That night, I went out with a Filipino expat and an Australian-Sri Lankan tourist. I had the best time with them. They were both so fun and easy to talk to; it felt like we had known each other beforehand.

While out and about, we saw a drunk girl lying completely wasted on a street corner, holding an empty bottle. She would probably sleep there until morning.

I, on the other hand, went to my bed at 2:00, once again exhausted yet content.

Todays highlights: receiving a new pair of glasses after a ten minute wait; seeing a pig at Nagai Park; the teamLab exhibition; and hanging out with the two guys afterwards.

Stray observations:

• At least half of Osaka’s population rides bikes. The city is basically one giant parking lot for them. They are EVERYWHERE.
• Also everywhere is Family Mart, the convenience store chain I dislike the most. Do they have a monopoly here on something? It’s surprisingly challenging to find a 7/11.
• By now, I know the 7/11 mantra by heart. “お支払い方法を選びください！ICカードをタチください！または、差し込んでください！レシートをお受け取りください！ご注文ください！” and so on. That cheerful female voice that plays whenever a customer buys something, so literally nonstop.
• Like every place in Japan, Osaka also has beautiful drain art. I’ve met two guys whose thing was taking photos of the various drains they saw in Japan. Maybe I should start looking down more.
• Lately, when I talk to someone in English, I’ve been accidentally sprinkling words in Japanese. On rare occasions, I might let slip a Hebrew word or two (nearly always “yes” or “no”).
• In a mega city, when the train is full but someone wants to get in, they enter with their back toward the inside and push all the passengers, to make them squeeze even more. So far I’ve only seen young people do this.

12 March 2023

• 11:00-11:05 Umeda station to Shinsaibashi station train
• Lunch: okonomiyaki at Dotonbori
• 13:00-18:00 sumo tournament at Edion Arena
• 18:30-18:40 Namba station to Umeda station train
• Night: another bar

Last night, I probably slept less than six hours. It was worth it.

I had breakfast with the Filipino guy. We bought bento and an avocado salad at the food hall of another department store. It was expensive, but delicious: my first avocado in who knows how long. The bento included the biggest tamago I’d ever seen.

Along the way, we passed a couple a youngsters struggling to walk straight. It was 10:00.

Dotonbori and a Sumo Tournament

After a sad farewell, I continued to Dotonbori. This was my last day in Osaka, and I was determined to have a taste of Okonomiyaki. After all, it was born in this city.

I waited in line to eat at a random place whose name I don’t remember. The Okonomiyaki I was served seemed way too small. After a few bites, I changed my mind. It was the first time I couldn’t finish a Japanese meal I was served.

In other words, tasty, but way too heavy.

The time had come to go to the sumo tournament. This was its first day. A ticket gave you entry for the whole day – from around 10:00 till 18:00 – but the advanced visions didn’t start until 14:00.

Thus, when I arrived at 13:00, most of the stadium was empty.

As I searched for my seat, I saw a sweaty sumo up close, panting after a battle. He was big and formidable.

Between 13:00-15:00, I wrote in my journal, trying to conserve battery. (Most of my observations are there, so I will elaborate on this period later.)

The matches were all fast and furious, most lasting 3-5 seconds, the longer ones up to 15. The crowd kept going wild for the wrestlers and their moves. Spectators of all ages were yelling: “頑張れ！” (“Do your best!”)

Usually one wrestler simply pushed the other out of the ring, but in a few standout ones, both locked each other so well, that neither could move. They grew static. The crowd broke into applause. Eventually, one lifted the other, and dropped him out of the ring. “Oohs” and “aahs” accompanied this.

During the advanced league, sponsorship flags paraded around the ring before each match. The final matches enjoyed the most sponsors (and cheers and applause). The excitement in the air was infectious. I couldn’t tell what was going on half of the time, but nonetheless had a good time.

After the tournament, I thought about returning to Dotonbori, but my battery was, surprise surprise, running low. Every day in Osaka had been the same: start at 10:00-11:00, return to hotel at 18:00-19:00 to charge phone, go out at night, sleep at 2:00.

So I scrapped Dotonbori. I didn’t get to see its famous neon signs at night. Big whoop – I’d have many more neon lights in Tokyo.

I didn’t go to Hozenji Yokocho, either, a traditional alley with izakayas. A local man had told me he’d never been there, either. And anyway, I’d have better Yokochos in Tokyo and Kyoto.

At the maze-like Nakai Namba station, I got lost, and asked for directions twice. Finally I exited it, and went to Namba station instead.

A Date Gone Wrong in Doyama-cho… Again

That night, I had plans to hang out with a local guy. When we met at 22:00, the vibe was immediately off. It felt like a mistake.

I was famished, while he wasn’t, so I suggested making a quick stop at a convenience store for a snack. As I was paying, he exited the store. I couldn’t find him afterwards, and found out he had blocked me.

That came as a bit of a shock. I couldn’t believe he’d done that. I felt gross, abandoned, unwanted.

There were a lot of emotions going on at that moment, but they were all capped by relief. I hadn’t wished to spend time with him, either. Once I realised we had nothing to talk about, and no desire to change that, I regretted meeting him.

I didn’t have the heart to walk out on him. At least he spared me that.

But I couldn’t finish the day like this. Not with such a sour taste in my mouth. So I returned to the bar from Thursday, the one run by an Australian expat.

The place was packed. I was the only one who’d showed up alone. I passed the time mostly with myself, uploading pictures to my new Instagram. I chatted with the owner and later with a couple of Mexican tourists from Texas. One of them kept patting my shoulder and rubbing my back in a friendly sort of way. Unexpected, but no complaints.

Another American patron showed up, a soldier stationed in Okinawa, who had come to Osaka for a visit. It was interesting to hear his story.

I went to bed at 2:00, wondering how with some people you could have an immediate connection and great fun, while with others, you just wanted to see them gone.

Today’s highlights: eating avocado; the crowd’s enthusiasm at the sumo tournament.

13 March 2023

• 10:40-10:50 Higashi Umeda station to Tanimachi 9 chome station train, 11:00-11:30 Osaka Uehommachi station to Kintetsu-Nara station train
• Nara National Museum (60-90m)
• Isuien Garden (30m)
• Kasuga Taisha shrine (15m)
• Omizutori festival (30m)
• Onsen at hotel

Farewell to Osaka

Today I slept around 7h, a vast improvement, and checked out at 10:00. On the way to the train station, I passed the food stall I’d passed every day here in Osaka. Its scent had repeatedly enticed me, but usually there’d been a long line.

This morning there wasn’t, so I bought my first tayaki: a fish-shaped cake, filled with red bean paste. If I’d known angel would sing upon my first bite, I would’ve stopped by that stall every day.

(It was so hot, that I burned the roof of my mouth, and it has been bleeding a little when I brush my teeth.)

Leaving Osaka was tough. Not because I would miss this city. In fact, I wouldn’t. It was too big, too urban, too crowded for my liking.

But this was the longest I’d spent in one place so far, and I was beginning to feel almost like a local. Even the Australian bartender from last night had remarked so.

Then I left the city, as if I hadn’t been there.

Being up until 2:00 every night; spending more time in the dark. My time in Osaka was different than in the countryside. I was also hanging out with people more, and had less time to myself, to write and share pictures.

And yet, when the time came to say goodbye, it was as if we hadn’t hung out. It struck me just how much I’d been wandering, constantly moving from one spot to another, meeting strangers who had become temporary companions, only to revert to strangerhood. All this nighttime strolling and ephemeral connections made me feel like I’d become a ghost.

Nara National Museum

I made it to Nara and exited the station. I was cold. Osaka was twenty degrees and sunny all day long; Nara was cloudy and drizzling. The right intensity of wind. Thank you, Mother Nature.

After leaving my bags at my hotel, I headed to the museum. The weather wasn’t fit for pictures of the park anyway.

There was a temporary exhibition about the ongoing Omizutori festival. Also known as the “ceaseless ritual”, because it had been held every year since 752. For two weeks in early March, water was taken from a legendary well in Todai-ji, as an offering to the deities of the temple. Hence the name (water + take in Japanese).

Eleven monks were chosen each year to go into seclusion during the ritual. They carried large, burning torches to light their path. They worshipped an eleven-headed deity whose sacred sculptures, the “secret Buddhas” kept in two shrines, not even they were allowed to view.

The exhibition featured religious objects from the temple, over a thousand years old. Lots of inscriptions and drawings of the secret Buddhas and mandalas of the temple. A recording of the ceremony chants and hymns was being played.

I was nearly alone inside the museum. A shame, because there were plenty of explanations of the festival and the history behind it.

In fact, once again, the few Japanese visitors were slightly confused to see me there. All the foreigners were outside, taking pictures of themselves feeding the deer Nara Park was known for.

Despite the sparse attendance, there was an incredible number of staff members / eagle-eyed supervisors at the museum. This was true to every Japanese museum I’d been to. I’d never seen so many of them in galleries and exhibitions. Overseas, activists could throw tomato soup on a Van Gogh, but here, artworks were being watched like a hawk.

Photography was prohibited. If you brought out a pen and a journal, they would bring you a pencil instead. Sketching wasn’t permitted, either.

The rest of the small museum featured archeological treasures, Buddhist paintings, and ancient Chinese ritual bronzes.

For lunch, the restaurant the hotel receptionist had recommended me, serving a variation of sushi Nara was known for, turned out to be closed. I found a random place on Google Maps: a traditional restaurant with floor seating. They didn’t have anything meatless, but offered to make me “nabe” (hot pot) with oysters instead.

I felt bad for making them change the dish for me – very rude in Japan – and agreed to order sake upon the waiter’s offer.

The sake was sweet with a hint of apple. The small glass came in a coaster with raised walls. It was curious how the waiter had carefully over-poured sake so that it would drip into the container, essentially wasting some of the liquor.

The meal ended up twice my budget. But then I realised I was seating under a kotatsu – a heated table. My first time seeing one.

The waiter turned on the heating for me. Inside it was nice and warm. Finally, I could cross this off the bucket list! I bet sleeping there in subzero temperatures would have felt even more amazing.

Ironic, how I’d stumbled into a kotatsu in Nara in March, rather in Hokkaido in winter.

Dessert was a matcha mochi filled with anko from a very famous food stall.

Nara Park and Isui-en Garden

I returned to Nara Park. It was crawling with deer. Unlike the signs warning of deer attacks, the ones in real life were so used to humans, that our presence did not excite them. They only cared about food.

The plenty of foreigners who had approached them with crackers, the deer approached in return.

The park had low fences to keep the deer safe from the road. Public restrooms had sliding barriers. Sometimes the deer were making sounds like a baby sucking on a dummy, or rubber being stretched.

I crossed the park on my way to my next stop, a traditional Japanese garden. A few deer crossed the road during a red light, while us humans were waiting.

They didn’t care about traffic lights and cars. Not about the individuals trying to feed them. They didn’t worry about being forgotten or accidentally pushing people away. They couldn’t say the wrong thing and become annoying. With animals, there was no such thing as coming off too strongly. No such thing as people getting tired of you and ghosting you.

The garden was tiny, but beautiful. Water was streaming into ponds. A watermill was slowly revolving. I was alone most of the time.

A gentle breeze was escorting me. The sight of a clear lake, with trees reflecting on its surface, had become one of my favorite natural phenomena. Perhaps I didn’t need anyone but that, and the sound of flowing liquid.

My next thought was the complete opposite. I signaled the only other visitor, a sweet German tourist, from afar to take my photo. Picture-taking made it hard to travel alone.

There were stones wrapped in rope on a few rocks for some reason.

After the garden, I climbed all the way to Wakakusa-yama hill, to watch the sun set over the park. The hill was closed from December until four days from now.

I was walking back to my hotel to check in and charge my phone, when I noticed a line of people outside a temple.

Omizutori Festival

The festival. Of course. It was due to begin at 19:00. The receptionist had advised me to arrive by 18:30, but this was 17:25, and people were already lining up! No wonder, this was Japan.

After I entered the grounds overlooking the temple’s balcony, I asked a couple of English speakers how long they’d been waiting. Since 17:00. And apparently, some people had shown up before 16:00.

Another bit I learned from them: the entry gates closed at 17:30. By a stroke of luck, I’d made it right before that. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have enjoyed such a great view.

I was astonished to hear that the couple was tourists from Tasmania. Such a faraway yet fascinating place. I’d been meeting so many people of different backgrounds, who had come from lands entirely different from Israel. Who led different lifestyles and held different opinions and saw the world in a different way.

It was refreshing, and quite dazzling, to meet such people during my trip. Definitely one of its highlights so far. I’d been used to bland sameness almost my entire life.

Once again, it struck me just how much you could meet people that interested you, spoke to you, appealed to you, while others you could barely exchange a couple of words with.

I was lucky to have passed the time with the Tasmanian tourists – and a German girl, too, at some point – because my battery was… running… low… and it had gotten so cold, that my fingers were too stiff to write in my journal.

My astonishment continued when the three tourists shared they would all be going to Koya-san, my next destination. I hadn’t been able to run into someone who’d been there. Nor to Kumano Kodo, my next-next destination, a 5-day trek I’d be hiking alone. Only the French tourists from Matsumoto, who had already hiked it.

I was flabbergasted to hear the Tasmanian tourists would be in Koya-san and Kumano Kodo at the exact time as me.

Then the time for the festival had come. My teeth were chattering by this point, my knees shaking, my fingers frozen, my toes numb. Monks began to carry burning torches up to the temple’s balcony. Only camera shutters broke the silence. Gong bells sounded every now and then, as well as the monks’ sandals trampling on wood.

Each torch, a monk lifted into the air, and swirled to emit sparks. Then he dashed across the balcony with the torch facing forward, sparks flying, until the fire was nearly extinguished.

It was a beautiful yet eerie sight. The sparks glowed in the dark, and were especially striking during each swirl. My old camera could not do them justice.

The ceremony was long and serious. Everyone involved was grave and concentrated. After every torch, monks swept the balcony from sparks. Firefighters supervised the ritual.

As sparks were diving to the ground, and my neck began to hurt from looking up, it dawned on me how Buddhist monks might also be guilty of attachment. After all, this festival had been ongoing for 1,250 years.

And here I was, dispirited by the superficial connections I’d made on this trip, whose breadth I wanted to deepen. Here I was, seeking attachment and affection.

I knew I would never forget this moment. The dark sky, the burning flames; the solemnity of the monks, and their stern shouts. The beauty of the sparks and the dramatic tradition that employed them. The interesting people I was standing with, and the interesting people I could no longer meet. Why did I think of them so much, when I was experiencing so many other things on this trip? Why did I wonder what they thought of me, when they probably weren’t?

Nature didn’t think of you. Deer didn’t care about you. Only humans could carry torches in such a serious and symbolic way.

When the last monk bolted with the last torch to the right side of the balcony, the burning ball dropped.

Outcries of shock. This was not intentional. I wouldn’t be surprised if the monks had been rehearsing this ceremony for months. Even years.

No one got hurt; there was enough space between the balcony and the onlookers to accommodate the sparks. The only damage was probably done to the monks’ pride.

I walked back to my hotel, shivering as if I was back in Hokkaido in -20 degrees. Earlier today, I’d felt a bit bummed that I had come to Nara for two nights, when one night was clearly enough. After seeing my room – a huge Japanese-style one overlooking the park, a pond, and a pagoda – I was elated that I’d get to spend tomorrow in it as well.

A warm toilet seat, after three hours of standing outside and freezing my ass off; my first futon in two weeks. Writing all this while sitting on the floor. I was back where I belonged.

Similar to Ise, I hadn’t remembered this hotel had a hot bath. This one wasn’t a rotenburo, nor even a real onsen, but more of a heated pool. Still, I went there after leaving my bags in my room, and relished the hot water.

I chatted with a Spanish tattoo artist who had taken a long time off work to travel for the first time since the pandemic. Again, a person with a background completely different than mine.

After two 10-minute soakings, I nearly passed out. I wobbled out of the bath, my vision growing slightly dark, and took a cold shower. Maybe it was because the room wasn’t ventilated (I was used to open-air hot springs). Or because I hadn’t anything to eat or drink in six hours.

I returned to my room and took out my laptop. I’d intended to go to bed early today and catch up on sleep, but had to get all this off my chest.

It’d been a little over a month, and already I’d visited so many places. People had come and gone; so had I. Yet somehow, at the end of the day, the thing that occupied my thoughts was certain people I’d met at those places, rather than the places themselves.

I wanted to leave my mark as well. I tried texting a few. It didn’t work out. They were haunting me, perhaps without intending to, without knowing they were. But I wasn’t haunting them.

I wasn’t expecting us to become friends. Texting couldn’t keep friendships afloat, as I’d learned after leaving the UK. I just didn’t want our interaction to end. A little more time together would’ve made all the difference.

That was the thing about travel. Even if you didn’t want it to, every connection you formed would soon be over.

I went to bed feeling like a toy someone had played with and then disposed of. Worst was my fear that I had been guilty of the same offense.

Today’s highlights: eating tayaki; using a kotatsu; Omizutori festival; laying down my futon; and not visiting a convenience store.