Let me tell you about Japan…

Getting lost as soon as we walked out of the airport. Japanese are one of the most polite and respectful people you’ll meet.

Efficient transport system. Few people spoke English, but we still managed to communicate. I found beauty in this. When we arrived at Edogawa, we discovered the eerie silence of the suburbs. 

Hundreds of bicycles standing in front doors. Not one of them is locked. Safe. Electric toilets with heated seats. Little flower pots line the footpaths. We are the only foreigners in a sea of Japanese.

An old lady walks into the cabin train. People offer their seat. I feel lost in a world of alien language and unknown characters. And yet, I find myself.

Smokers smoke in designated areas; grouped in corners or smoking fish tanks. Kabukicho is like the video game version of Times Square, with a speck of an underground anime Vegas.

Cars are small. Hello Kitty decorates traffic barriers and buses look like toys. Vending machines in every corner, stocking juices, coke, water and ice cream. Fashionable people, each with a style of their own. Shibuya crossing is an ocean of people riding waves in all directions.

Tokaido line to Yugawara. We fleet past rural towns, mountains with naked trees. Click. Click. Click. My mind takes snapshots of the passing scenery.

I see a field of blooming yellow flowers. A 5-year-old with red rain boots runs in them. Her dad, behind the lens, captures the moment.

Being greeted by beautiful strangers whose only language is kindness; like Masato who came to pick us up at Yugawara Station. Five minutes into the ride to his house he had already taken us to view two beautiful waterfalls.

Staying in music-rooms-converted-apartments with panoramic views of the fishing village below.

Breaking the Western norm and stewing naked in Japanese Onsens, where we are, once again, the only foreigners. We expose our nude bodies and minds to the world. Unapologetically shameless.

Talking to strangers. Getting answers to our questions. Coming face to face with the realization that this world we live in is inherently kind.

Letting our curiosity take the best of us and late at night, exploring the hidden nooks and crannies of our host’s apartment.

Early morning rises to Hakone. Tozan railway into the forest. Cable cars to the peak of the mountains. Ropeways to the valley down below.

Cruising Lake Ashi on a pirate ship. The torii gates to the Hakone Shrine glistening against the sun, its red arches contrasting against the dark mountains behind. 

Bullet trains to Osaka. The Shinkansen travels at speeds I have never experienced before. We sit on the floor in the hall that connects two cars. A guard walks past. I smile at him. Five minutes later he returns and lets us ride in the reserved car, even though we hadn’t paid for reserved seats.

Exploring Osaka on foot. A man feeds tiny brown birds and purple pigeons in the park by the river. People ride their bikes past us and glance, briefly surveying the two foreigners exploring their city.

We walk into Sumiyoshi Temple and see a lady praying to a century-old tree. People wash their hands then toss coins into prayer boxes and ring bells after finishing their prayers. When I converse with strangers, we bow as a sign of respect.

I sit down for five minutes at Shitennoji Temple, quietly taking in the life that passes by me, while the temple’s bells gong behind me, their vibrations grounding me to that particular moment in time. The hustle and bustle of the surrounding flea market seem like a dream that reflect my feelings of wonder.

Smelling the Sakura blooming in Osakajo Park. Watching the sunset at the foot of the Osaka Castle, with the full moon rising in the East.

Seeing Japanese practicing the art of the Samurai, their black robes dancing around their bodies as they yell in a language I cannot comprehend, but understand its power.

Being mesmerized by the lights of Dotonbori; it easily competes with those in New York.

Riding the Shinkansen to Hiroshima, we line up early to ensure we get seats. We travel 330km in one hour and fifty minutes.

The ferry crosses us to Miyajima Island, where the deer greet us as soon as we arrive at the dock. Three deer approach me and I feed them a red apple.

We slowly make our way around the island, perusing the items they sell at the souvenirs shop. I buy a Kimmi doll from a shop whose owner is a dwarf lady. She takes the doll from my hands and with unwavering dedication dusts it twice, wraps it and boxes it. Her tiny hands struggle to make the doll fit into the box. Observing her, I suddenly find myself crying and walk outside the shop to compose myself. The price to pay for being an empath. These are the moments that touch you, deeply and unexpectedly.

We walk to the giant torii gates, the sand crunching under my feet at low tide. A man slouches over where the ocean meets the land. He fishes for Asari.

At the mainland, a blind man holds on to his wife’s right arm as she leads their way. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever fall in love with someone I can share these experiences with; then I ask myself: does it really matter?

Walking to the A-Dome; the only preserved site after the atomic bomb brought Hiroshima to ashes. I pause, reflecting on the reality that 75 years, 4 months and 8 days ago, at 8:15 on Aug 06, 1945, more than 200,000 people perished under the blast of the first atomic bomb in human history. Coming face to face with this brings a deep understanding of the value of peace.

Sparking conversations with random strangers at Kyoto station. The lovely lady hauling her carry on suddenly joins us on our travels to Fushimi Inari. She quickly becomes acquaintance, friend by the end of the train ride and by the third day, family.

We explore the beauty of Inari with its thousands orange torii gates and I tick off this bucket list item in my mind.

At the shrine, we hike the trails that lead into the wooded forest of the sacred Mount Inari, avoiding the crowds and coming face to face with quaint little villages and beautiful shrines that incite our curiosity; we do not understand their sacredness or purpose.

On our way down, we stop at a makeshift shop and drink tea, taking in Kyoto’s cityscape in the backdrop.

Seeing geishas at Gion District, they hurriedly walk to teahouses to entertain their guests. One minute they stand in front of me, and then they are gone. Like a bird of paradise their rareness, beauty and mystery quickly make them the most entrancing human beings I have ever seen. I wonder if they know the impact they have on someone like me.

Cycling through Kyoto and discovering that this is by far the best way to experience this mesmerizing city; we dart past centuries-old temples and shrines on our way to Katsura Imperial Villa.

Being engulfed in a sea of bamboo at Arayishama, we briefly survey the souvenir shops and eat the street food being sold at the nearby markets.

We catch an overcrowded bus to the Golden Palace and I can’t contain my laughter the entire way there. Sometimes, it is the most mundane experiences that remain with you.

We fleet past crowds at the Golden Palace, rushing to catch the setting sun, its rays reflecting on the palace walls. It is our last night in Japan and I try to shake off the bittersweet nostalgia that is beginning to creep in.

We celebrate by having dinner at a traditional Japanese restaurant; its menu boasts some of the most bizarre dishes I have ever seen – raw horsemeat, sea urchin, live squid. I settle for rice and tell myself that someday Japan will see me walking out those airport doors again.

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