I spent the last night in Tokyo walking around Asakusa and Ueno with a new friend. We started the night at a karaoke bar on Hoppy Street, walking distance from the Senso-ji temple and it was a lively area. Rows of izakaya lined the streets, each dimly lit. We chose one randomly, one that was not too busy, and sat outside. After ordering our first food and drinks, we realised that there was karaoke going on inside. It turns out that drinking is the key to making friends, at least for the evening, with the Japanese. Once again a conversation started between my friend and a local stranger. However, the night seemed to reach a peak quickly… before 10pm, the bars were already starting to take last orders and clear up. Perhaps it was because it was a Tuesday night. So we hit the road and went back to Ueno, where our hotel was. There, we walked the streets. Not doing anything in particular, just observing what we saw and exploring a little. We walked past izakaya with drunk people sitting on the ground and continuing their conversation, as tired staff packed up chairs and cleaned tables. We walked by another big street where women stood by the road, holding signs with prices, dressed according to different themes – there seemed to be a lot of choice for anyone who was interested.
Soon enough however, the heat started to get to us. We went to Ueno park to see if we could cool off a little, and I wasn’t disappointed. My friend had walked the park earlier in the day and wanted to see it at night, and it was stunning. We walked through a pond that was crammed with pink lotus plants… the flowers were barely noticeable, in the dark it’s the leaves which show their magnificence. They are big and bright green, as if from the dinosaur age, and the wooden boardwalk provided a delicate contrast. Instead of a roof, there were rows and rows of traditional Japanese glass wind chimes, furin, each with a slip of blue paper hanging at the bottom, a charm. We stood for a moment admiring the city view, merely a slice of Tokyo, in the background. Everything was silent and still, until the wind picked up. It started softly, but got stronger… then, it was loud. Maybe a hundred wind chimes all softly ringing together, like little glass bells. Each one seemed to have a different tune, but in the mass of sound they appeared to harmonise together. It was a moment that I won’t forget.
The next day was even hotter, and a little bit confusing as we walked around the big Tokyo station trying to figure out train tickets. I was happy to know that it would be the last of my worrying about the Tokyo trains for a long time… although not for my friend who is to stay for another few weeks. She took me to the station, hugged goodbye and then I was off on my way back to my little town apartment in Kansai. As I found my seat on the train, I sat back and that familiar feeling hit me. Yes, it was very hot, yes the trains were a headache, and yes – I’d had a very intense ten days… but I would miss it somehow. In Tokyo, I’d had the company of good people. Friends new and old, and thousands of different souls had crossed my path without a word. I’d taken a dip out of the chaos of Tokyo for 24 hours and spent a night in a traditional village in the mountains… before throwing myself headlong back into the bright lights. In such a short time, I’d experienced a lot. I don’t normally travel like that, and I was exhausted by the end, but this kind of travel has its place. I reached Kyoto, and decided to go straight back to the apartment so I boarded a local train immediately.
As I looked out the window, my eyes wanted to close and my back relaxed a little more under the weight of my heavy backpack. I saw those familiar mountains again, in the background. The sky becoming more grey with every stop deep into the heart of Kansai. It felt like a cooling off, even though the breeze which blew in every time the door opened was hot and stuffy. The clouds around the mountain tops were low, the houses reduced in number and the rice fields increased. That familiar landscape which I’d known for a month just ten days before, it felt like I’d been away for a long time. I had a sensation of returning home, even though I knew that I’d only stay for a short time before leaving again. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the fake feeling. Back into solitude. It can feel like taking your shoes off when you arrive home. Suddenly you appreciate what it is like to rest on your naked feet, and lay down in the coolness of shelter. I looked out the window at the familiar landscape and began to appreciate it a lot more than I had when I’d arrived in late May.
I started to think that I should have done my trip to Tokyo earlier, maybe I would have enjoyed myself in Kansai a little more… but I let the analysis go. These thoughts were of no use. There is no such thing as “better,” there is only what is. It reminds me of what I once heard Dr. Ellen Langer say: Rather than waste your time being stressed over making the right decision, make the decision right. The same goes for whatever you had decided in the past. Improvement is necessary only when you want to learn something new, but given this was the end of my nomadic life on the road… I would just let it all go for now and make the decision right. Know that it had to happen this way for lots of beautiful reasons, and indeed I am happy that it did.
I got to meet some wonderful people, and meeting people, exchanging with them… this is really what makes travel special. Perhaps it would have felt equally as magical staring out at the city lights in Ueno park on my own, but now, it’s a memory that I can share with my friend on another occasion. A moment that can’t be re-captured in time, but only remembered and recreated and used as an infusion to give you goosebumps in later conversations. Overall, I’m happy with what’s happened. All of it. And I’m happy that Japan was the place where I chose to make these beautiful memories.
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