Today the sky was white and the air was heavy, I slept in a little but then took a long train to Kobe. As soon as I arrived, I knew that I would like it there. A big port city. It’s both international and historical, and was one of the first cities in Japan to open itself to the western world. Perhaps it’s no mistake that I am attracted to cities that are a melting pot of culture, and Kobe certainly felt that way. After a big lunch, I walked along the water and stared back at the city. It was plain, grey. Especially with the sky being a blurry mess of clouds. But yet it had something. The mountains held the city. As if they had fingers slipping underneath the high rise buildings, displaying it with both hands like you’d give someone a gift.
I explored the city for a while, trying to understand it a little better. It reminded me of many places, and opened up a whole box of memories from my past. The mixture of saltiness and seaweed in the air felt like the south east coast of France, the red brick buildings brought to mind my time in England when I lived along the channel. The humidity took me back to Hong Kong and Singapore… and in the quiet, narrow alley ways I saw Tokyo. As I climbed up a very steep hill to the Venus Bridge, I was reminded of the streets of Istanbul. Except at the top of this hill was a big, red torii gate, flanked by foxes wearing red scarves and keeping careful watch of everyone who entered. When I finally made it to the top, I had a view of the whole city and a strong breeze to cool me down. It was worth the climb.
The mountain sides were crowded with bulbs of leaves, like the heads of broccoli and the city itself was equally as dense. Tiny rooftops, towers with countless windows. Every square representing a space where other lives were taking place in this very moment. As I descended, I decided to look out through one of those little windows myself. Before my train to Osaka, I went to a chain café at the station. It was on the third floor, hidden away in a corner. As I entered and found my place, I saw checked windows with black panels overlooking the train station. Every now and then, I’d see little burgundy coloured boxy wagons gliding across the rail tracks, almost brushing the sides of the building. A simple yet beautiful view. I tried to appreciate it, but there was only one problem. My phone battery was slowly dying. Surprisingly, I couldn’t find a café with any ports to charge my phone. I thought back to me lying in bed this morning, and deciding not to charge my power bank. Not the best decision.
I looked out at the train station, the lines of people were slowly building up. I was probably choosing peak hour to return back to the apartment… another decision that I didn’t fully think through. But sometimes it’s like that. Here was another way in which Kobe would remind me of my past, as the anxiety started to bother me and distract me from my writing. It was time to remember all the moments in the past where I had been lost. Luckily, these experiences had helped me and I knew that somehow I would find my way back home. I heard that familiar buzz, indicating to me that my phone was now officially dead. I looked out at the train station again, how was I going to tackle this? The Japanese train system was not the easiest to navigate. Because of the various scripts in which the language is written, it is not always easy to guess the meaning of words when there is no English translation. Not to mention the dozens of train lines all intersecting together. But I had a vague idea of the different directions, and I had just hoped that the places I knew would be written in English somewhere in the station.
As I left the café and made my way down to the ticket counters, I remembered the first time I ever got lost on my own. It was in my home town, and I was in my car. My phone was low on battery, my car was low on fuel and my wallet as a bit on the light side as well. I remember parking the car somewhere and stopping to cry – it was frustrating and time was ticking. Luckily, I’d gotten a call from a friend and they set me straight. I took a deep breath and followed their advice, they told me to always look up. Look for a landmark, any landmark, and use your logic to get there. It worked. I looked up and in the skyline I saw a particular building, close to where I needed to be. I drove through the streets, using my best sense of direction, and after a few twists and turns I got there. I also found a fuel station along the way. This rule of thumb has helped me in every single country where I’ve been lost. Take a deep breath, orient yourself and look for a sign of where you want to go – then take a chance and make your way there.
This is exactly what I did today. I was able to figure out the orientation of the sea in relation to the train station, and I was able to find a familiar name in the direction of where I wanted to go. I jumped on a train, and if it was going in the wrong direction then I would simply get off and take another train going in the opposite direction. I didn’t need to worry about the fare, because in Japan there are counters behind the gates for fare adjustment – so I could simply pay the balance at the final stop. Luckily, the first train I took a chance on went in the right direction and took me to a more familiar place.
Walking around without your phone can sometimes feel a little like walking on air, especially in a foreign city – you don’t feel as if you are on solid ground. But this is the beautiful thing about travel… the more places you go, the more similarities you see and the more you are able to adapt and adjust as necessary. Now, Kobe will be added to my box of memories. I have seen the city only briefly, but I have experienced it from the outside, from the inside and somewhere lost in between.
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