Public welfare is merely the sum total of the private welfares of each of us.

Albert Camus, “The Plague”

I decided to add another (critical) day to my previous post (The Head Clerk / 番頭さん) from November 2 and publish it as a new one.

26 October 2023

• 10:00-11:25 Kakunodate station to Aniai station local train (Akita Nairiku line), 20m cab ride to Ani ski resort
• Ani ski resort (1h)
• 20m cab ride to Aniai station, 13:45-15:10 train to Kakunodate station
• Kakunodate samurai village (1h)

Ani Ski Resort

After dedicating yesterday to a day trip to Nyuto Onsen with the Taiwanese family instead of sleeping and running errands, I did the same today.

The Taiwanese family had visited Ani ski resort two days ago. Their photos looked better than Hachimantai.

I took a one-carriage local train up north. Google Maps had indicated a bus from Aniai station to the ski resort, but I went to Kakunodate’s tourist information center before boarding, and they’s corroborated the Taiwanese family’s words: one could only reach it with a cab.

So when the train took off from Kakunodate, a conductor asked if any passengers were headed to Ani and hadn’t booked a cab. When I raised my hand, she paired me with the only other foreigner in the carriage, an American guy from New York with a mane of curly black hair, reminiscent of Queen’s Brian May.

He’d begun a BA in environmental science in Tokyo in spring, and was now traveling in Tohoku during vacation. Thank god I could find someone to share the cab fare with. 

We spent the 1.5h-long ride chatting. The train slowed down in spots with dramatic scenery of kouyou. Then we took a cab and the ski resort’s ropeway.

The mountain was almost completely orange at one point. Some leaves had begun to wither. The Taiwanese family had scored the last best day.

We strolled around the summit, enjoying the breathtaking view of orange mountains and, in the horizon, the sea west of Akita. He’d seen kouyou in upstate New York, but nothing like this.

Back in Kakunodate, I showed him around the samurai village. I learned that his side gig was an English tour guide in Tokyo to Japanese high school students from the countryside who wanted to improve their English. Such a job struck my fancy.

We hung out until he had to board his bullet train. I felt like I’d made another friend I could visit in Tokyo.

I returned to the guesthouse and ate dinner (my usual tofu, nattou, and instant rice) with a new Swiss guest. He’d met in Hakodate a French girl who’d told him about three Israeli guys she’d met in Asahikawa. It was the girl I’d spent the Lake Akan Marimo festival with.

Today’s highlight: the kouyou in Ani ski resort.

27 October 2023

Akita Specialties

Today marked a break from travelling. Resting and running errands from now on.

Every morning went like this. A teishoku breakfast at the guesthouse; helping around the kitchen; changing beds. Almost as if I was back to volunteering at a hostel.

When new guests would arrive, I would check them in, and socialize in the common area in the evening. 90% of them were Taiwanese.

For lunch, I ate miso kiritanbo (a specialty of Akita prefecture) as an appetizer from the tea shop in front of Aoyagi residence in the samurai village, where I’d also found a Cremia ice cream. Then I bought groceries from the 7/11 right by the guesthouse for a lunch like last night’s dinner.

As for today’s to do list, I’d only managed to cover talking on the phone for an hour with my airline company for a refund.

In the evening, I received a text from a Japanese man I’d met outside Takadanobaba station on September 12. He’d invited me to a free lunch at a Japanese language school; I’d told him I’d return to Tokyo in late October.

Now, he asked me why I wasn’t applying for the Difficulty in Returning to Home Country visa, which allowed part-time work.

“The immigration office hadn’t told me such a visa existed,” I replied, annoyed. This could solve my legal predicament at present. I’d find a part-time job in no time, and study Japanese in my spare time.

Since it was already Friday night, I couldn’t wait until Monday morning, to phone the immigration office.

Today’s highlight: miso kiritanbo.

28 October 2023

Life and Errands in Kakunodate

Breakfast; kitchen duty; sheets; doing my laundry; checking in new guests; errands on my computer.

Before I knew it, it was lunchtime. Today being the weekend, the restaurant was busy with diners, and so Owner called me again to help with the dishes.

She and her three helpers were cooking in the kitchen. Ramen, shrimp, spaghetti, miso soup, green salad, pizza, etc. I was loading one dishwasher after another. They called me 番頭さん, the head clerk.

Another role I gained was that of a student. Owner had begun correcting my Japanese. Almost no one did that. Ergo, I never learned. From now on, she’d corrected mistakes I’d been making for months. I wished everyone felt close enough to me to do so.

Lunch was my usual “starving artist / beggar on the run” dish (instant rice, nattou, tofu, and a raw egg). Most of my lunches and dinners were such. For dessert, I treated myself to a chocolate and matcha ice cream.

In the evening, I went over Owner’s Israel guide books in Japanese, and created an tentative itinerary for her. She was determined to visit Israel and Jordan someday. The new guests hanging out with us in the common area were a Taiwanese girl and a French guy. We chatted over tea and wine.

Today’s highlight: chocolate and matcha ice cream.

29 October 2023

Same as Yesterday

Breakfast, dishes, sheets. Dessert was a kouyou dango from Owner, colored like autumn leaves.

I cycled to Kakunodate station after, where I’d spotted a store selling an apple and anko taiyaki a few days ago. My first time seeing one containing apple. Delicious.

Then I started researching Japanese schools. The application process would take too long for me to enroll in one before my tourist visa expired.

During lunchtime, a couple of the local English teachers from the class I’d participated in came to dine at the restaurant, including a British girl teaching near Omagari. I sat with them and chatted and almost felt like joining them next week for wanko soba in Morioka. They’d form a group of six people, which sounded like a fun competition.

Then Owner treated me to a delicious clam chowder soup.

In the afternoon, I planned my next steps, calling faraway visitor centers regarding buses that no longer ran, sending requests on couchsurfing, and looking up hostels.

For dinner, I mixed things up by eating a seafood instant noodles, a grilled mackerel, and a pack of vanilla ice cream from 7/11. I enjoyed how my bike’s lamp was my immediate source of light when cycling in Kakunodate after sundown. I enjoyed sitting outside the guesthouse, how empty the streets were, how quiet the countryside grew. In a month from now, Owner said she wouldn’t go out after 16:00. The town would be too cold, dark, and snowy.

It sounded both charming and boring at the same time.

Today’s highlights: apple and anko taiyaki; clam chowder soup.

30 October 2023

Delicacies and Rural Charm in Kakunodate

Breakfast; dishes; sheets. I called Tokyo’s immigration office and asked if I could change my tourist visa to a Difficulty in Returning to Home Country visa. Since I’d gotten my tourist visa extended two weeks ago until February, they said I’d have to wait until it expired first.

Why, when I’d gone to the Sapporo Immigration Office and told them I was in a bit of a financial rut and willing to find temporary work in Japan for the duration of the war, they hadn’t told me that the Difficulty visa even existed?

I could’ve applied for that instead. It would’ve solved my entire predicament. Finding a part time job would’ve been easy, and I wouldn’t have to wait six months to enroll in a Japanese language school to get a student visa, nor find a way to pay for all that.

So I phoned Sapporo’s immigration office. They said only Ukrainians and Malaysians were eligible for this visa. As if a war wasn’t raging in Israel.

Perhaps it was too soon for the Japanese government to add Israel to the list.

Lunch was rice, nattou, and tofu again, and after I remained hungry, a red perch and honey cheese balls from 7/11.

In the afternoon, I cycled for a minute to the nearby river to watch the sunset. It sank behind the looming mountains, painting the sky pink and golden.

The area was quiet, apart from birds and the river. A few locals, Owner included, walking their dog before dark. A couple of kids playing ball. I understood why the German girl from my Korean temple stay had volunteered at a guesthouse in Shirahama for a full month. The complete opposite of my month at a party hostel in downtown Busan.

Here, my company was mostly Japanese aunties and the occasional guest. The tourist attractions were kept to the bare minimum (a one-hour samurai village), and there wasn’t anything else to do but take it easy, eat homemade food, and enjoy the silence.

I didn’t want to leave Kakunodate.

Still, as long as I was in Japan, I ought to take advantage of the generous extension of my visa that I’d gotten, look for possible employment, and see more of this country. Kakunodate had become a homey destination for me, with more comfort than things to do. I felt liked and welcomed here; being taken care of. Yet staying here longer would come down to a waste of time.

It hit me that I’d spent a full week here in a tiny town in the countryside and hadn’t felt lonely. Even though I couldn’t see him, there was someone special in my life.

Every Monday, one of the English teachers came to tutor Owner over dinner. He was the one I’d eaten homemade pizza with on the day I’d arrived to Kakunodate. Now, he came with a middle-aged man form last week’s English class. Owner made a fabulous nabe (Japanese hot pot) with kombu from Rishiri island, milt with fish semen, tofu, mushrooms, mackerel, carrots, and spring onions. In the end, she poured rice and egg to produce a porridge-like leftovers.

Stomach bursting with a late lunch and a full dinner, plus red wine for the first time since January, I could barely walk. A delicacy-filled fatigue.

Today’s highlights: sunset over the river; honey cheese balls; nabe for dinner.

31 October 2023

Dakigaeri Valley

I woke tired despite adequate sleep and realized that by sitting on my ass for the last few days, mostly just being on my computer, I’d reverted to my lifestyle before this trip. This had made me grow more hungry and lethargic. Ironic, compared to days when walked or even hiked more than I slept and ate.

Today was supposed to be the day I flew back to Israel. My SIM card was scheduled to expire after three months, yet no shop in Kakunodate sold a decent substitute for three months.

Owner suggested going to Dakigaeri valley. The only way to get there was by car. She drove us after lunch for fifteen minutes. We did an easy, one-hour walking trail through a valley and some caves to a waterfall. The kouyou was still peaking.

A Kibbutznik in Kakunodate

Upon our return, one of Owner’s helpers brought her dad to meet me. He had worked at Kfar Blum, a famous kibbutz in Israel near the border with Syria and Lebanon, fifty-five years ago! Picking apples, practicing judo, learning some words in Hebrew, and sightseeing the country. He’d grown particularly fond of Acre. In the past, one of his Japanese friends, fluent in Hebrew, had worked at the Israeli embassy in Tokyo.

As we had this unbelievable conversation in the guesthouse’s yard over Chinese tea and manju filled with mandarins, dozens of crows began to caw above us, sitting on electrical wires like in The Birds by Hitchcock.

In the evening, I settled on my next step, and booked a hostel in Fukushima, a rental car, and a delivery of a SIM card. I might spend the next two days without data.

Today’s highlights: Dakigaeri valley with Owner; meeting a kibbutznik in Kakunodate.

1 November 2023

A Frustrating Last Day in Kakunodate

Breakfast, dishes, sheets, and two apple taiyaki, as a farewell to Kakunodate.

Today’s errands began with a phone call to Beit Hashalom (“House of Peace” in Hebrew), a pro-Israel/Jewish organization in Japan. I called their branch in Kyoto and spoke to an Israeli-born Japanese person fluent in Hebrew. He told me Japan had more than a hundred Beit Hashalom branches, even as far as Hokkaido, but none were looking to hire at the moment.

In Israel, Beit Hashalom was reputed to provide free accommodation for Israeli tourists, but when I asked about this, he didn’t confirm this.

Next, I talked to a rabbi from a Beit Habad (extremely religious, worldwide havens for Jews) in Tokyo; the Sapporo international plaza (which I’d visited three weeks ago); the Hokkaido part time job office… Then, emailed Beit Hashalom in Tokyo as well as several Israelis living in Japan… nothing came out of this.

When I spoke to family and friends about my situation, or to people in official roles, almost everyone said one of two things.

“Oh, that’s too bad… I hope it works out.”

“Yes, you can try doing that, but…”

They either expressed mere sympathies, or criticized my proposed course of action. My sister outright told me to go back to Israel.

“And do what?” I asked.

Neither of us had an answer.

By the end of the day, my mind was bursting with information about jobs, visas, language schools, and my inability to actualize them. I’d been worrying about my budget every day for almost nine months now, going as far as skipping meals altogether. The extension of my tourist visa until February had allowed me to stay in my favorite country and look for options, but no options were available to me. It only made me even more concerned about money.

In the evening, Owner and I finished our Israel and Petra itinerary. She remarked how fast and naturally I was planning a trip for her, even though I hadn’t done this itinerary myself. I knew trip-planning was the natural next step for me. I’d even contacted the Israeli tour company from August again, asking to resume my job of writing tour guides about Japan, after we’d signed a contract and they’d bailed on me. They ignored my message.

Recalling all of Israel’s specialties (such as hummus and tahini) made me so hungry and nostalgic, that I resolved to visit a Middle Eastern restaurant in Tokyo next week.

I went to bed at 23:30, but couldn’t fall asleep. A storm was raging, thunder and lightning accompanying my already-distraught thoughts.

I thought a lot about Cowboy, until it hit me that I yearned to make our relationship official.

Never had I found myself in such a position, and wondering how to do it, as well as how he would react, only made it harder for me to doze off. But I had to try. I resolved to do so in the morning.

At midnight, I texted him. He tried to encourage me to focus on finding something for me in Tokyo.

“I think it’s better to move on,” he texted. “My chapter is finished.”

I got out of bed and called him.

In the dark common area, we whispered about our feelings. My posts about him had only reinforced his loneliness. I’d made things worse by leaving Sapporo and then writing about it.

Now, I asked him out. He didn’t say yes. He didn’t say no, either.

“I just hate it when people say ‘I don’t want to drag you into my mess, you deserve better,’” he said, referencing the speech I’d given him on our last night.

“But that was before I knew how you felt.”

The truth was, I wanted him in my mess.

“People have their opinions about long-distance relationships, and I don’t know anything about that,” I continued. “But I want to try it with you.”

In all fairness, it was a lot to ask from someone via a video call, when our next rendezvous was still in the dark. But he was a lighthouse I’d stumbled upon on overnight ferries, while crossing an endless, black mass. Even when his beacon of light was too far to illuminate my sea, I could still feel its warmth.

I went to bed anxious to receive his answer.

Today’s highlights: apple taiyaki; evening with Owner in the common area; realizing I wanted a relationship for the first time in my life.

2 November 2023

• 10:00-10:20 Kakunodate station to Omagari station local train (Tazawako line), 11:15-12:55 transfer to Shinjo station (Ou main line), 14:20-15:30 transfer to Yamagata station (Ou main line), 16:30-17:15 transfer to Yonezawa station (Ou main line), 17:45-18:30 transfer to Fukushima station (Ou main line)

Rejected En Route to Fukushima

This morning, I finally left Kakunodate.

I’d returned here expecting to spend around two nights, not wanting to overstay my welcome. Today marked ten. August included, I’d spent two weeks in total in this tiny town, whose only attraction took a mere hour.

Ever since the German girl had told me about her month in Shirahama, I’d been itching to add “volunteer at a guesthouse with a restaurant in the countryside with more elderly locals around than guests who came to stay” to my list of experiences for this trip. I hadn’t served diners, so a waiter was a hat I’d yet to put on. Still, I valued this development of my itinerary so much, that I didn’t want it to end.

Especially because Owner was amongst the nicest, most generous people I’d ever met. In no time at all, we’d dropped all formalities, all honorifics, and opted for hugs instead. I would never forget what she’d done for me, and I hoped to return the favour sometime in Israel – as well as re-visit her in the future. Moreover, it was nice to bring my trip to a complete halt and take some time to rest, think, and plan.

I spent most of today riding multiple local trains for 8.5 hours. Listening to Carly Rae Jepsen’s entire discography and observing the countryside helped me pass the time.

Throughout this, I repeated my sentiments from last night to Cowboy.

“I know it’s messy and silly for me to ask this now because we’re in different places,” I texted him, “but I want you in my mess.”

He replied that he didn’t want a long-distance relationship.

I sat inside the slow train to Fukushima after sundown, feeling as empty as the windows overlooking the dark countryside. The last of Carly’s albums had just finished playing, and my ears were hurting.

In the evening, I arrived at Fukushima. It had been a while since I’d visited a new city, let alone a prefecture, in Japan. It seemed pretty boring, with nothing to do but go out to izakayas smelling of grilled meat. My hostel was fantastic, though, and I had a new SIM card delivered to it. Oddly enough, my 90-day card was still working.

When I went to bed, I discovered an electric blanket under my sheet. Sleeping on a heated mattress raised the first smile on my face since leaving Kakunodate.

Today’s highlight: the heated mattress.

3 November 2023

• Driving through Bandai Azuma Sky Line route from Fukushima station rental car to Jododaira visitor center (1.5h)
• Mount Azuma-Kofuji (35m)
• Mount Issaikyo – going up (1h)
• Goshikinuma, the five-colored pond (1h)
• Mount Issaikyo – going down (45m)
• Driving through Bandai Azuma Sky Line back to Fukushima station rental car (1h)
• 16:40-17:25 Fukushima station to Koriyama station local train (Tohoku main line), 17:50-18:28 transfer to Shin-shirakawa station (Tohoku main line), 18:32-18:55 transfer to Kuroiso station (Tohoku main line), 19:00-19:50 transfer to Utsunomiya station (Utsunomiya line)

Mt Azuma-Kofuji

I checked out in the morning, bidding a bitter farewell to the heated mattress, and set off with a rental car. My first time driving abroad alone.

Mt Azuma-Kofuji (“The Little Fuji of Azuma Mountains”) had been on my radar since day one in Japan, yet I couldn’t visit it during Golden Week, as intending to. Now, a week or two before it closed in winter – and knowing I would be able to drive there by myself – I couldn’t pass up on it, on the way to Tokyo.

At my first intersection, I almost entered the opposite lane and died. Still used to driving on the other side.

Bandai Azuma Sky Line route, from Fukushima’s city center to the mountain, was considered one of the prettiest roads in Japan. A fairy simple drive straight all the way from the station to the mountain, with twists and turns for every colourful leaf – autumn was the best time to cross it, and as I climbed higher and higher with my rental car, I marveled at the altitude I’d found myself in. I hadn’t expected the mountain to be this high (1,707 meters tall), nor to enjoy a spectacular view of the city.

I arrived at Jododaira visitor center, which was quite congested and busy. Kouyou led way to a barren landscape, with more gravel and ashes than leaves. This was a dormant volcano, after all.

The visitor center recommended hiking Azuma-Kofuji and then Issaikyo for a total of five hours. The time was 11:30. The road would close at 17:00. No time to waste. I broke into a run. 

Today the sky was clear. The weather was hot, and the wind up Little Fuji was as blustery as on Rebun Island. I climbed the stairs from the visitor center for ten minutes and circled crater, almost falling into the abyss. My eyes were watering, my nose were running, and my spit flew in an angle of ninety degrees. Some hikers had to stop and crouch, to not fall over. Every photo was a risk.

I knew the mountain would be worth the rental car fee.

In all honesty, I was surprised there was no warning at the entrance regarding the strong wind. On the contrary – that visitors could climb to the mountain to begin with. It was quite easy to lose balance while standing on the top and fall.

Mt Issaikyo

With gusts fighting every inch of my presence, I returned to the car to grab gloves, and took off in the direction of Issaikyo. Out of the trails to the immediate left of the visitor center, I took the right one. The path was ill-marked, even in Japanese, yet there were plenty of hikers, some of whom having brought their dogs. I even passed an auntie hiking with a bike helmet on.

I reached Issaikyo peak after an hour. 1948 meters, with a direct view of an enormous, vivid blue pond, and mountains as far as the eye could see. Wind turbines here and there. Green, brown, blue, gray, white, yellow: a visual feast.

Best view for a lunch since Seoul’s Bukhansan. Better than Zao-san’s Okama crater. Blustery and cold, but still, as I lounged in front of the pond on a dangerously steep slope and shivered, I thought: “This is my happy place.”

After an hour of eating and trying to take pictures (forever a struggle when traveling alone and the people around you are elders inept at camera angles), I enjoyed an aerial view of Little Fuji that was just as jaw-dropping. I couldn’t believe I’d set foot on its crater.

Nor could I take the smile off my face. It was my best day on this trip since my last day in Hokkaido. One of the best mountains I had visited. My only reason for coming to Fukushima. Nothing else appeared on my list for this prefecture, yet this mountain range alone was worth 8.5 hours of five, local trains, and the fee of a rental car.

In the end, instead of five hours, the whole hiking trip took me 3.5. The exact same time difference as October 4, in my birthday ryokan.

I blasted Run Away with Me by Carly Rae Jepsen on the way down Bandai Azuma Sky Line and felt on top of the world. The time was only 15:00, yet today was already memorable for all the right reasons. What a rush!

Emotion, Carly’s pop treasure album, finished playing just as I fueled the car and returned it at 16:00.

No reason to linger in Fukushima Prefecture for another second. I took four local trains bound south right away for the next three hours.

Things Go South in Utsunomiya

My destination was Utsunomiya, a town in Tochigi Prefecture known as Japan’s gyoza and cocktails capital. With no hostels around, I found a shady yet cheap ryokan offering private rooms for 1,500 yen a night – a third of the average hostel and business hotel in Japan.

I went there at once. Their website said that today was fully booked, but tomorrow had some vacancies. So I resolved to book tomorrow, leave my luggage there, and find a ne-café for tonight.

The owner told me that both today and tomorrow were fully booked.

I left wondering if my race had something to do with it. After dragging my luggage for 50 minutes around Utsunomiya, I went to the only ne-café in town, with last three vacancies.

Expensive, but at least I found an accommodation (sort of?) for tonight.

I played 8-bit video games, drank banana au lait, hot chocolate, a vitamin beverage, and yuzu tea. Sadly, there was no ice cream machine.

After staying at ne-cafés (also known as manga cafés) several times since August, I decided it was time to finally take advantage of the manga section, and borrowed the first volumes of my favorite anime: Death Note and The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi. Someday, I’d read the whole series with less difficulty.

All of this was in good order, apart from the fact that ne-cafés always played background music and kept the hallway light on 24/7. One would think they’d turn these off at midnight, and allow guests to sleep (that was everyone’s reason for spending the night at such an establishment) or use their personal light.

Moreover, this branch didn’t feature mat rooms, but rather booths with reclining, padded chairs.

Using my jacket as a pillow, I curled up in fetal position on the chair, to fit my legs in, and fell asleep.

This was how I celebrated half a year in Japan.

Today’s highlights: renting a car by myself; driving across the winding yet colorful Bandai Azuma Sky Line; circling a blustery, volcanic crater overlooking an abyss; the view from Issaikyo to Azuma-Kofuji and Goshikinuma pond; Run Away with Me on the way down Bandai Azuma Sky Line; sweet drinks and beloved manga.