It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine, and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. Nobody knows how many rebellions besides political rebellions ferment in the masses of life which people earth.
Charlotte Bronte, “Jane Eyre”
Table of Contents
Times Flies
Time flies. It scares me. It scares me more than anything. -25 degrees can’t compare. Traversing remote and snowy places by myself can’t compare. Time flows like an angry river, charging and sloshing while leaving a wet mess behind. It is not tears that soak me, but Saturn himself.
The only thing I can do is try to enjoy the ride and treasure it for as long as I can.
That’s why I am back to journalling a daily basis, for the first time since eighth grade. It’s useful for this blog, too. Like I said on my first post: if I travel without writing, I will die.
It feels really good to return to pen and paper. My eyes are grateful. My sleep is grateful now that I journal before bed instead of using my laptop. Night mode is nice and all, but there’s nothing like plain old paper. The same goes for books.
My eyes are actually super grateful for this trip. I got new lenses for my prescription glasses last month and I’ve been worried about my crappy eyesight. It feels amazing to be out and about rather than looking at screens up close all day long. As much as I love being on the computer – I love writing so much that I want to do it for the rest of my life – it’s not exactly what nature had in mind, for us humans. More walking and looking at things that are far away from you, less sitting around (or in my case, standing) in front of the computer all day.
Having said that, as someone who loves being alone and not communicating with anyone every now and then, being out and about all day, every day feels crazy. It’s like, there are people everywhere, and they can see me, and hear me, smell and even touch me, and I need to be communicative and presentable, every single day of the week. Don’t be weird, don’t do something embarrassing, stay on your guard, this is the outside world…
It’s very ironic that I’m in Japan, because on the one hand it’s notorious for being very anti-standing-out – you need to act like everyone else, “when in Rome” and all that – yet on the other hand, it’s not as hard for me to do so, compared to back home. I actually like the people here. The average Israeli will tell you the Japanese are crazy and extreme in their customs and beliefs, but that’s how I see Israeli people.
Before going on this trip, people told me I had no idea what I’d be getting myself into – that I’d have a hard time here – that I’d cut this trip short…
I think the worst thing, however, is food. I’m used to eating 6 smalls meals a day, but now I’m constantly on the move, which means I am even hungrier than usual, which I didn’t think was possible. God. Stick a tube up my arm or invent food that takes a week to digest, I can’t chew anymore.
Plus, being vegetarian here is hard. Although Israel is the same, to be honest. That whole “Tel Aviv is one of the vegan capitals of the world” thing is crap. In both countries, a meal without a dead animal is a thoughtcrime. I feel bad about the fact I am eating fish here. At least I manage to avoid meat.
Then again, that feeling of arriving at someplace new… no one knows who you are, and everywhere is unfamiliar… there is nothing quite like it. My brain is constantly bombarded with new information. It’s almost relentless, you have to think and stay alert and be quick on your feet – you have to keep up, to familiarise yourself with everything – I love it. I am learning something new every minute of every day. Who needs a routine? There is comfort in the unknown. It’s never dull.
Capping all this with a digital detox is the icing on the cake. I don’t mean just the 2 days I spent at an isolated ryokan (more on that in a bit). I barely surf the web anymore, check Twitter and whatnot. Social media can be a very entertaining place, but it’s also the black hole of time wasters, and detrimental to (at least my) mental health.
The modern lifestyle is something I don’t think we were meant to lead. I can feel it in my biology. I just know I was meant to sleep from dusk till dawn, wake up without an alarm, find small portions to eat throughout the day, and in my spare time reflect on all that. Maybe I was born too early – maybe a few centuries from now, the human body will evolve to accommodate technology – but right now, it feels wrong. It feels unnatural.
Maybe it’s because my childhood was “old school”, and technology took over during my adolescence. I mean, I remember two kids in sixth grade who already had phones, but they were the exception; I never spent hours staring at tiny screens until I got my first smartphone after high school. Too bad I’ve spent hours in front of the computer ever since I turned 12.
But the best of the best, the thing about this trip that trumps digital detox and pen and paper and everything else, is the fact I get to do things the way I want to. The fact I am free to do as I wish, simply because I’ve worked for several years and saved up to this moment. It makes me both happy and sad. In this world, freedom literally comes at a cost.
Worst is saying goodbye to places I want to explore more, and people I want to spend more time with.
19 February 2023
- 9:35-10:35 Shin-Hakodate-Hokuto to Shin-Aomori Shinkansen (my first one!)
- 10:45-11:25 Shin-Aomori to Hirosaki
- Lunch at Kikufuji (two locals specialties: fried tempura squid and vegetables balls + scallop, egg, and miso soup served in a scallop bowl; Sakura ice cream for dessert)
- Hirosaki castle (1h)
- 15:15-16:05 Hirosaki to Kuroishi bus, 16:15-16:40 Kuroishi to Itadome bus
- Shuttle to ryokan, dinner at ryokan
My First Shinkansen
I stayed at a really nice hotel in front of the train station. My room was on the tenth floor. It was big, the bed was large, and so was the pillow. I’d kind of gotten used to small and hard futons and their matching pillows, though.
When I took a shower, the circumference of the large bathroom mirror grew foggy, but a perfect square in the middle remained clear, as though it had some kind of an anti-steam technology.
The only downside was breakfast, which was free, but underwhelming.
The last two places I’ve stayed at were western hotels, and both had a copy of the New Testament in my room. If it was because the hotel had assumed its clientele would be Christian, once again the few guests were just me and a bunch of Asians.
After checking out, I boarded my first Shinkansen. The carriages were bigger than limited express trains, and their numbers were written on the platform, so you would know which one to go to.
You can’t board a Shinkansen without reserving a spot. My train was really empty, so I’d booked it an hour in advance. I assumed the Tokyo-Kyoto one was way more crowded, for example.
The train was fast. Between the two islands (Hokkaido to Tohoku), it was underground.
Hirosaki
Next, I switched to Hirosaki.
It really is odd how sometimes I am on a train full of Japanese locals, and me. I don’t mind it, but I do get some looks every now and then. It’s hard to tell whether they are out of mere curiosity or something else.
Hirosaki is a charming city with a very convenient and cheap 100-yen loop bus that goes around every ten minutes. The tourist centre gave me a very detailed and useful map. I assumed the city was making efforts at bringing in tourists; for me, it worked.
It was either Goryokaku Fort in Hakodate or Hirosaki, and I chose the latter since it was my only chance to see a snowy Japanese castle.
The tourist centre also informed me of a bus that Google hadn’t told me about, thanks to which I didn’t have to wait a full hour at my next station, but rather mere ten minutes. Once again, I found that visiting tourist centres in spite of the research I’d done was super useful.
I bought a matcha condiment filled with anko, because I needed coins to store my luggage at the station. I used a polite form of a verb while talking to an elderly store clerk, and she corrected me with the casual form. Most of my conversations with locals (even staff members and store clerks) have leaned more toward the casual forms. It surprised me, because overseas you are taught that this sort of thing is generally between friends.
It’s a good thing I was so hungry that I decided to go to Kikufuji before the castle, because the restaurant was packed. The waitresses wore yukata and the tables included tatami. I liked the traditional vibe.
After that, I walked to the castle. It was so old, you could feel the history of the place. The park was beautiful, serene, and slippery; the walking trails were covered in ice. Warning signs of “falling snow and ice” everywhere.
There were barely any visitors. I love traveling like this. Most of my time in Japan outside Sapporo has been solitary; just me and a crow. Gonna miss this atmosphere once I reach the big cities.
It’s a bit unpleasant at night, but so far I’ve managed just fine.
On the way back to the station, I saw the cutest little cafe serving Japanese sweets and apple products, which are another specialty of Hirosaki. I don’t remember its name, but it was right next to the Lawson opposite the park’s eastern gate. Finally, I was able to lay my hands on a melonpan. The smell was intoxicating. There were multiple kinds of apple juice; abroad I’ve only seen one.
Digital Detox Ryokan in the Mountains
The way to the ryokan involved several transfers and small buses with just me and another Japanese guest. Passing through tiny towns, I only saw a handful of people, all locals clearing out snow from their pavement. People here lead a very different lifestyle than what I am used to.
The road was one of the most dangerous ones I’ve had the pleasure of crossing. It was a single lane on winding mountain paths, through some of the heaviest snowfall on Earth. The ride was super bumpy, and I probably should’ve been slightly worried, but instead I was smiling.
As I entered the ryokan, the first thing that struck me was the smell of the kerosene lamps. The entire place is lit by them. It was dim and atmospheric. There was something melancholic about it, too.
A staff member gave all the arriving guests a long explanation of the place in rapid-fire Japanese. So fast, that keeping track made me slightly light-headed. At no point did anyone sneak in some English for me or inquire if I’d understood everything. Must’ve been common knowledge that all guests were capable of at least basic Japanese.
We were all given maps of the ryokan. Flashlights waited for us in our rooms.
I had half an hour before dinner (and complete darkness), so I explored the premises.
There were three onsens, plus a rotenburo. I heard and saw a waterfall right behind the ryokan. Serene doesn’t even begin to describe it.
The building itself was quite old. The walls were paper thin. I could hear everything, like someone walking on the hardwood floor. The windows rattled when wind blew. The kerosene lamp couldn’t be turned off at night. This didn’t bother me, as I had an eye mask.
Dinner was early, at 18:00. I ate very, very slowly, taking my time trying to figure out what all the delicious things I’d been inserting into my mouth were. These included the best mushrooms I’d ever tasted. Whole fish were being grilled around a small fire. It freaked me out a little, so I didn’t eat the head, unlike the other guests.
There were 18 or 20 guests overall. We all sat on cushions. The vibe was as Japanese-y as it could get.
After dinner, I sat in a small common area with wooden benches and wrote in my journal. A few guests came by at 20:00, and we started chatting. We went on and on, until a staff member showed up at 21:20 and told us it was getting late. We all went to sleep.
Today’s highlights: my first Shinkansen; that lunch; the quiet and peaceful frozen castle grounds; the smell inside that cafe; that bumpy ride; the best dinner I’ve had in Japan so far; and going to bed while listening to the river outside my window.
Stray observations:
- Whenever you eat in Japan, you are given a wet towel. This is to clean your hands before the meal. Wiping your mouth with it is a a big no-no.
- Japanese tea is really bitter. You are automatically served it in restaurants. No complaints here, though.
- Sakura ice cream is precisely what I figured a pink flower would taste like. Light with a hint of sweet.
- Whenever you pay at a place, there is a designated “plate” for cash. You don’t just hand it directly.
- There is also an automatic coin exchange machine on every bus. The driver doesn’t handle payment. You take a ticket when you board and there’s a screen saying how much you need to pay when you get off.
- Yukata is one of the most comfortable and effortless clothes in existence. Must look for a cheap one before I leave Japan.
- I’ve eaten a dozen konbini onigiri by now, and still haven’t mastered the art of wrapping them without making a mess. Must ask a local.
- Every Japanese-style room I’ve stayed in had a tea set. I think Japanese people might rival the British in their fondness of tea.
- I forgot to mention that in the huge Noboribetsu rotenburo, there was a guy with lots of tattoos. I’d known tattoos were a HUGE no-no in public baths, being a sign of the yakuza, yet no one seemed to mind this, and the guy was nice, too.
20 February 2023
- Onsen and rotenburo hopping (for the eigth day in a row)
Sinking into Onsens and Loneliness
Today at breakfast, one of the Japanese guests from last night, a 76yo woman, gave me Japanese sweets and her phone number. She lives near Nikko, which I mentioned my intention of visiting during Golden Week, and if I understood her lightning-fast Japanese correctly, she went to the oldest school in Japan.
I gave her my Japanaese phone number and the matcha condiment filled with anko I’d bought. “Must stock on edible souvenirs,” I told myself. “Very common practice here.”
It was interesting that the woman had spoken to me using the simplest language, including slang.
It was curious to see a “don’t stand on the toilet seat” sign when I went to the restroom.
After breakfast, I checked out the ryokan’s rotenburo. Rocky pool, hot water; snowy landscape, foggy glasses. You know the drill.
This one was nice, but very underwhelming. I’d visited some of the best rotenburos Japan has to offer in Hokkaido.
It was my first time soaking in a bath that didn’t require washing beforehand. Once inside, I understood why. The water wasn’t dirty, but there were leaves and stuff.
It was my first time in a bath whose water, after a while, grew lukewarm.
Finally, it was my first time in a mixed-gender bath. That was weird. The men got in naked, while the women wore a covering.
At some point, it was just me inside the rotenburo and a bunch of old Japanese day visitors, men and women alike. I began to feel really uncomfortable. Like I’d come to a special place with a fantasy of being one with nature, and ended up counting the minutes in a leafy pool with no one my age.
But then one of the women said she saw my interview on TV. She recognised me.
I let out the biggest “eh?!?!?!” ever (that’s how you express surprise in Japanese). I could not believe it.
After we finished talking, I entered one of the indoor baths. It was hot. I grew dizzy. Out.
“Now what?” I asked myself. It was barely 11:00, and I felt like I’d done all there was to do for the day.
I returned to both baths. The latter had three guys my age – English-speaking men. I was shocked.
We talked for a while, and then I met three English-speaking girls at the lobby, and discovered they were all a group of Christians who had come from all over the world to Hirosaki to work at a church. We had lunch together and I had a blast hearing about their life. The day had improved exponentially.
But then they left the ryokan, back to their city.
“Now what?” I asked myself again…
I returned to both baths. The indoor one had another guest; the rotenburo, which was packed when I’d arrived the same time a day before, was empty.
I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the rapid stream of water crash into the open-air pool.
I thought about the things I’d done so far in Japan, and the places I’d visited. They felt distant, like they’d happened a million years ago. I thought about my life prior to this trip. It felt eons ago.
The only thing that felt close was the here and now. The rapid stream of water. The dropping temperature of the air. I wondered if this was what it felt like, to live in the present.
This whole time, I kept wishing for someone to come. I spent an hour like this, from 16:45 to 17:50, until it got dark. I wanted someone to talk to, to pass with them the time. Since coming to Japan, I’d been busy running around Hokkaido. Now, when I had nothing to do but soak in lukewarm water, something felt missing. Maybe that’s what it felt like, to be lonely.
I had no problem with the lack of Wi-Fi and electricity. Giving up on them was easy. But the lack of activities drove me impatient. I soaked at least seven times in the ryokan’s onsens. It was disappointing to find out that, during wintertime, the place didn’t offer anything else.
Dinner explained to me why the rotenburo was suddenly empty today. It was Monday, with only half the number of guests, compared to yesterday.
Two days at this special place felt more than enough. I was someone who needed things to engage his mind.
I went to bed at 19:30. My room was dimly lit by the kerosene lamp. I sat on my futon, leaned against the wall, closed my eyes, and listened to Gypsy by Lady Gaga, over and over again.
By 21:00, I was fast asleep.
Today’s highlight: meeting the group of Christians.
21 February 2023
- Dawn: rotenburo, yet again
- 8:20 shuttle to Hirosaki, 12:25-13:10 train to Shin-Aomori, 13:15-15:15 Shinkansen to Sendai
- Sendai castle ruins (30m)
Today reminded me of the day I’d spent in Kawayu Onsen. Half of it was fun and memorable, the other frustrating and disappointing.
I woke up at 6 AM and decided to watch the sunrise. This wasn’t really possible, due to the mountains. So I headed once more to the rotenburo. At least there were a couple of Malaysian tourists I could talk to.
My time at this ryokan was peaceful and tranquil to the max. But I needed some variety. I needed some action. Not big-city-action, but just something other than soaking alone in onsens.
I would love to return to here someday, but either for 1 night only, or for 2 days with a companion.
I left the ryokan happy I had come, and happy it was over.
Getting Stuck at a Magical Snowstorm
When the shuttle bus departed, the driver told us to hold on to our luggage, and hit the gas.
It was almost like the Knight Bus from the third Harry Potter movie at first, but soon enough it proved tricky on this bumpy, one-lane, snowy mountain road, and a minute later, we got stuck.
It didn’t help that it was snowing heavily. Sometimes the snow on either side of the road was taller than the bus itself. Turns out the Aomori prefecture is even snowier than Hokkaido.
The driver performed careful manoeuvres for ten minutes, but every time he reversed, the bus got even more stuck. At some point, he grabbed a shovel and cleared the road.
It didn’t help, either. After half an hour of this, all the passengers got out and pushed the bus from behind. No good.
After another half an hour, someone from the ryokan came and gave us complimentary apple juice. Then a snow vehicle arrived from town and towed us up the hill.
The shuttle ride ended up taking 2.5h instead of 30m, but the driver kindly saved us two more bus rides, and dropped us off in Hirosaki.
It was snowing heavily all the while, making it hard to see anything. Everything was pure white.
When I’d taken this road two days ago, it hadn’t been that snowy, compared to today. The towns were covered in a thick blanket of soft, powdery white. Rigorous shovelling was the unofficial law here.
When I woke up today at six, I decided to take the first shuttle bus out of the ryokan and visit the gang of Christians at their church in Hirosaki. I was really bummed that it didn’t work out; the long shuttle ride kind of ruined things. I’m so used to being surrounded by people who look similar and come from a similar background, that it was awesome to meet such an eclectic group. It reminded me of my M.A. days in the UK.
But I didn’t spend the rest of the day alone – I had company that was just as awesome. One of the guests who had checked out with me was a cool Japanese guy from Tokyo, around my age. We had lunch together – my first fast-food soba noodles, one of those places with a ticket machine outside where you pick your dish, pay, and then get it inside a minute later. Mine was kitsune soba. Delicious.
Apparently I’d been holding chopsticks wrong my entire life, and no one here thought to correct me, but him. Your middle finger should go between the chopsticks. That was too hard for me to perform.
Later, we bought dessert for our upcoming Shinkansen ride: donuts and matcha latte.
The latter was probably my first sip of coffee in around five years or so, and it was worth every drop. Matcha latte was the most delicious coffee I’ve had.
We chatted all through the two train rides, and I got amazing tips from him. He tried to make plans for me to meet in Tokyo and maybe even in Israel. I told him when I’d be near his area in Tokyo.
Eventually he gave me two of his favourite konbini snacks (after refusing to let me pay for those donuts), and I gave him my last souvenir – marimo tea from Lake Akan.
“I can’t accept all this,” I protested.
His hand lightly tapped mine. “Hey, if I’m ever in Israel…”
I wanted to ask for his number. I wanted to tell him how I felt. But that would have scared him away.
Among the people I’d hung out with in Japan so far, the ones I’d bonded with the most had given me their contact details. I immediately regretted not asking the guy from today for his.
Even now, going through this post before publishing it, I regret it even more. I can’t get him off my mind. I’ve never felt this way.
Sendai
I got off in Sendai, while he continued to Tokyo. The first thing I noticed was the difference in landscape.
Sendai is one of those typical Japanese urban sprawls. Very, very urban. No snow.
I’m sorry, but that’s exactly the kind of view I dislike. I am not a big city guy. I like to visit them, but can’t see myself living in one. And after having the time of my LIFE in tiny, snowy towns, Sendai seemed really ugly to me. At least Sapporo had snow that made it alluring.
Plus, Sendai reminded me of my winters in Norwich. Zero degrees, no snow, strong wind. Hokkaido barely had any wind.
Walking around the city, I got quite a few looks from people. It was hard to tell what thoughts accompanied them.
The guy from today recommended I visited the castle ruins, so I checked in quickly, and set off at once.
I waited for the bus on the wrong side of the street and missed the last one. It was one hour till closing time. A mere 10-minute drive. I decided the time had come for my first Japanese taxi ride.
Apparently, the driver here has a button that opens the door for you.
It was expensive, but I made it to the castle ruins in time. Unlike Hirosaki, there was obviously no castle. I walked around and realised there wasn’t much to see, apart from a shrine.
My first shrine, though! I bought a Goshuincho, a notebook you fill with special stamps from shrines and temples you visit. Then I prayed at the shrine.
Like every little thing in Japan, shrines have strict rules. You bow twice, clap your hands twice, pray, and bow once more.
I didn’t ask the gods for much. Only everything missing from my life.
Then it was time to head back. Turns out I’d missed the last bus.
The road linking the castle ruins and the city wasn’t walkable. Time for yet another cab.
My wallet grew tragically light as I returned to the city. My next destination was a zunda shop. The guy from today had mentioned that Sendai was known for its edamame paste, and my mouth had watered in anticipation.
I found two popular shops on Google Maps. One I couldn’t find on the street (navigating in Japan is harder than in Europe). The other was, for some baffling reason, closed.
My third option was to walk all the way back to the train station, which I did. I was determined to make something out of Sendai. I had too much fun pushing the bus and chatting on the train, that the day felt like it had gone south. Which it literally had. I didn’t really enjoy walking down the streets, and kept missing the frosty charm of Hokkaido.
It was all worth it for the zunda, though. Zunda with mochi, plus a zunda shake – so good, I devoured them on a bench outside the station. I hope other parts of Japan sell zunda as well.
Satisfied, I headed to my accommodation for the night.
My First Capsule Hotel
There was a women-only floor, and a men-only floor. The first thing I looked for was a lounge, a common area to sit in and charge my phone.
I should’ve known there wouldn’t be one. Capsule hotels are for sleep only.
The floor was divided into lockers, in which a bag with towels, slippers, a night robe, and a toothbrush was waiting for me; shower rooms and restrooms; and sleeping pods. “Quiet” signs everywhere. This was a place for sleep.
Even the doors closed quietly on their own.
Nature called. I opened the door to one of the restroom, and encountered the fanciest toilet I had seen in Japan.
The toilet lid automatically rose, while the toilet flushed itself. There were more buttons and functions than any Toto model I’d used. Heated seat? Child’s play. Light flush, eco flush, adjustment of direction, a button that raised the seat without you having to touch it, oscilate, pulsate, DRYER. When I finished doing my business, the toilet flushed automatically.
The shower was huge. All the amenities were top-notch. You just had to be quiet and distant all the while. No one made small talk.
The Japanese guy had warned me of capsule hotels and snores. I thought he was joking. It was kind of funny, though.
It was a good thing I hadn’t come here during the high season. Couldn’t imagine staying at a fully crowded capsule hotel.
Today’s highlights: pushing the stuck bus from behind and chasing it once it began moving; hanging out with the Japanese guest; matcha latte; zunda; the automatic toilet; and writing all this inside a sleeping pod.
List of places I never want to visit again:
- Sendai
22 February 2023
- 10:55-11:45 Sendai station to harbor bus, overnight ferry to Nagoya
Today started with a symphony of luggage zippers. Again, no small talk – people come to capsule hotels simply for a shower and bed.
Sleeping inside a pod wasn’t scary at all. The only thing that bothered me was the strangely rock-hard pillow and the fact I had to be super slow and careful with my movements, to not disturb the other guests.
Me and one other guest were the last to check out, at 9:00.
My breakfast at Starbucks was good – soybean ball sandwich, berry yoghurt & granola, plus a Sakura & matcha donut – but this would be my only time eating at a western establishment in Japan.
I returned to the JR station for another cup of zunda shake. Then I got lost looking for a drugstore and the station’s branch of Tokyu Hands, which I haven’t had the chance of visiting. Japanese train stations are gargantuan labyrinths, designed presumably to make one wander endlessly into stores.
There was a pop-up shop selling animal plushies. The huge line was all young Japanese women.
My First Overnight Ferry
The bus to the harbour made me really melancholic. Long bus rides always do. I thought about the people I’d met so far and how I longed to see some of them again.
Then I boarded the ferry, and got excited.
It was huge. Lounges, shops, vending machines, grand baths, karaoke, game corner, coin lockers, restaurants, promenade, a movie theatre…
Seagulls flying, engine roaring, ocean sparkling. It sounds juvenile, but they gave me a sense of adventure.
The thing that astounded me the most was that, upon departure, the seagulls were flying alongside the moving ship. As if they were chasing it, or wanted to stay near.
Inside the berth, the ship constantly rattled, as if the room was a message chair set to too high. My class was at half capacity. Like the capsule hotel, I can’t imagine riding a ferry during peak season. Too crowded.
There were puking bags at the restroom, and a special, large faucet intended for vomit.
I paid for Wi-Fi, which was terrible and didn’t really work. Then I ate lunch – kitsune soba, like yesterday, which had become a favourite appetizer dish of mine. I saw what looked like a couple of dolphins from afar.
Then I checked out the onsen. No rotenburo, nor natural baths, obviously; it was basically a few heated pools. I went in – a bunch of middle-aged Japanese men, and me. So I focused on the ocean view.
Fifteen minutes later, I nearly passed out. Maybe it was because the room wasn’t ventilated; because it was right after lunch; or because it was on a ship.
Hot and dizzy, I wobbled outside. The prospect of puking grew probable for the first time since childhood, and I was nauseous for half an hour or so, as I unwound in the lounge.
On the one hand, it was again just me and a ship full of Japanese passengers. On the other hand, no one, since coming to Sendai, had been surprised by my Japanese. No one had pointed it out or asked how I’d studied. People in big cities might be more accustomed to foreigners who spoke Japanese.
Suddenly, I wasn’t so unusual anymore. And, despite the bad aspects that accompanied it, I found this feeling a bit lacklustre.
I read for several hours while watching the sunset. A book in English, a view of the ocean, no Japanese: I forgot I was in Japan, until dinner time was announced.
Despite my previous near-death experience slight nausea, I decided to re-visit the hot baths. Fifteen more minutes were more than enough.
This whole day reminded me of my time at the old-school ryokan. Before long, I got bored.
I headed to dinner. The buffet was about to be closed. So I grabbed everything meatless and started chomping. Wolfing down a tray full of stuff while sitting on a rattling chair did not make for a pleasant combination. Still, I felt fine.
Every chair and table were chained to the floor, to prevent unwanted movement. Even the bottom plate of each stack was chained.
Closing time was announced as I swallowed my last bite. Belly full, I grew tired, and went to my intense message chair bed early.
I stopped by the promenade for a minute. The ocean was pitch black. If it wasn’t for the waves the ship was making down below, I would’ve thought we were in outer space.
The ferry was like a spaceship crossing an endless, dark mass. The only thing visible was the vessel itself. We were surrounded by, seemingly, an endless nothingness.
It was cold, yet surprisingly not very windy. Piano music was playing from the inside. I gotta say, that helped. It was amazing how we could cross such an inhospitable body of water, without any landmarks to guide or assuage us, and navigate in the night. But there was something disturbing about that view, too. Once again, I felt how much I was a weak speck in a vast, uncaring world.
My bed did not stop shaking that night. I was glad: it did the shuddering for me.
Today’s highlights: boarding the ship; seeing the ocean at night.
Stray observations:
- The lack of bins in public places (especially streets) is kind of annoying. I carry my trash with me all the time. I think it’s generally a good thing that contributes to cleanliness, but sometimes it gets frustrating.
- I haven’t mastered the art of separating burnable and non-burnable trash yet. Another thing I need to ask a local about.
- When using the polite form of a non-past verb, I’ve noticed that men tend to elongate the first syllable of ます, while women the second.
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