[This entry was composed over an uncertain span of time well before it's time of publication...it's the last of my Japan stories that happened, yes, over a year ago]


August 24th, 2009

I find myself overwhelmed with the idea of trying to recount all that has happened since my last post and recognize that even as I hope to do so in a rather quick and general way, my tendency to fall into detailed and specific narrative will make this rather difficult. Either way, here is the rest of my Japan trip and, hopefully, the greatest hits of my time back in Korea since vacation.

KYOTO

Kyoto was an awesome city and easily my favorite stop on the entire trip. Our hostel was reasonable and extremely accommodating with all things considered. We arrived in city late in the evening and while the idea of going out and checking some of the local sites was mentioned we opted to lay low and rest up for the following day.

The two major sites of the next day were The Golden Pavilion and Nijo Castle. While it was quite evident that the Golden Pavilion was an extremely popular tourist site and it was guaranteed to be swarmed by people just like us, brandishing cameras and disrupting the overall tranquility that such a site is intended to convey, we rationalized that people must still go there for a reason. Luckily, our logic met with a degree of validity and I would have been disappointed if I hadn’t made the trek and braved the hustle, bustle and chatter of the gawking multitudes. Though the day brought with it an overcast sky and the hint of potential rain, the splendor of the pavilion was hardly lost. Situated at the edge of a large pond (or small lake), just about every inch of the building was covered in the gold-leaf lacquer that gives it its name. Below, yet another waving pavilion can be seen reflected in the fittingly named Mirror Pond (they really don’t dance around the obvious with their names). On a perfectly sunny day, I can imagine the temple shines brighter and the reflection shows clearer but for our purposes we were satisfied.

I’m pretty sure my traveling companions were interested in our next stop in Kyoto, but this was the one site that I insisted that we make it to. Marooned in a country where barely any architecture of any note goes further back than the 17th century for most of my life, I was determined to see a real castle for myself. The verdict was Nijo Castle- a castle built by the Shogun Ieyasu, founder of the Tokugawa Shogunate, in 1601(admittedly, in the 17th century, but just about as early as you get), as the home of the Imperial Court. It became one of my favorite places in Japan as soon as I saw it and saw the big moat that surrounded the castle grounds. While everyone knows about moats I would wager that a good number of those people have never seen one in person. They’re pretty awesome, even without alligators. Now, the castle itself was far from Camelot and looked more like an ornate vacation mansion but the inside was pretty impressive and I was intrigued to discover that the squeaking sounds we heard from the floorboards beneath our feet were intentionally designed to do so, so as to prevent any intruders or unwanted guests from effectively sneaking around the hallways. I thought it was pretty clever.

The remainder of the day was spent walking around and exploring different temples in the area. We soon discovered that Kyoto is riddled with temples and that they all cost money. While we would have liked to see more, we opted to walk around the outskirts of a number of other temples without paying the entrance fee, figuring all temples start to look the same and it wouldn’t hurt to save some coin for the rest of the vacation. We did, however, do sushi for lunch at my first actual sushi bar where the different kinds of sushi cruise along the conveyor belt, awaiting their selection from the hungry patrons sitting beside it. The meal proved satisfying and affordable.

At night, we decided to finally test the nightlife of Korea. Up until then, I had foregone all alcohol since the start of the trip and considered myself both accomplished and due for some suds. Of course, we knew nothing about Kyoto’s downtown, including how to get there, so we conferred with our amiable and considerate hostel manager who was able to furnish us with a number of recommendations for the evening’s activities.

Once we had made it downtown, we began our evening with a dinner of yakitori. Yakitori was one of the meals we had planned on trying at some point during the trip so we figured then was as good as anytime. I think, despite the story, we would have opted to have our yakitori somewhere else if we could do it again. From what I understood, yakitori was really just a fancy foreign term for chicken kabobs and I think I am still kind of right, but in this case, it took an unexpected turn. We counted ourselves safe when we ordered the chicken yakitori from the menu. Unfortunately, when we think of chicken, we think of very specific parts of the chicken that, by our standards, are the most appetizing parts. That definition of edible chicken exists on a much different level in Japan or, at least, at that restaurant. Our unsuspecting taste buds were assaulted by the gizzards, guts and grime of every chicken part imaginable. I was happy to have been forced into trying new things but remain convinced that things that taste like that should not have the nerve to be as chewy as they are. There’s nothing worse than having an unappetizing meal overstay its welcome in your mouth.

A little unsettled by our dinner but ready to take on the world, we headed to a bar named Crane as per our hostel manager Nick’s recommendation. We arrived at a rather small and convincingly “swank” bar and seated ourselves near the bay window where we could look out onto the lit streets of downtown Kyoto, split by a small river and straddled by a number of quaint looking bridges. We found the prices to be reasonable enough, though certainly not cheap, and the manager, Task, proved to be very hospitable as well as rather convivial with what English he knew, which was enough.

After a few drinks and a mention to Task that we MIGHT be back tomorrow, we headed out to see what we could find for ourselves. We walked for awhile before we decided to turn down an alley solely on impulse and head up the stairs of one of the bars on that street. I think our initial thoughts were that we had stumbled into the wrong kind of bar and were ready to turn around but we had been spotted by the bartender already and were greeted by a boisterous hello. It was a dark and very tiny bar with a few lounge chairs in a corner and maybe six stools at the bar, two of which were occupied by a young couple who were the only guests to be seen. Taking our own seats at the bar we decided to have one drink and see where that took us. We were pleasantly surprised when we learned that the bartender/owner was an extremely friendly and talkative young man who attempted to dazzle us with witty stories and magic tricks, all while he partook in his own bar’s fine selection of whiskey. Kota, as he was known, wowed us enough with his spirit and spirits that we spent the remainder of the night drinking and talking about all things under the sun (or moon).

The weather for the next day was a bit rainy but not enough to keep us from staying true to our plans. We did lunch at a Ramyeon (Ramen) place because we were told Japan was the place to get it. It is. The ramen in Korea is a small step up from the college fodder we are used to in America but the ramen in Japan actually tastes like real food and is pretty awesome. We followed our meal up with a trek to Toji Temple, which is a temple in the middle of a somewhat urban area that towers over the surrounding buildings and is an ideal place for viewing the that part of Kyoto. Peculiarly enough, after taking some time to get there we decided that it wasn’t worth the money to actually go into the temple itself. However, we did stroll around the temple grounds and were able to get some good pictures of the temple and the other ornately decorated buildings nearby. While it was a nice enough temple we were actually starting reach a point where every temple looked pretty much the same and we were left relatively nonplussed. Afterward, we perused our brochures and maps and looked for our next destination. By that time, we had begun to accept the day would pretty much be a wash and our minds began dancing around dinner and nighttime plans. The prevailing consensus was that we would take a look at one more shrine and then call it a day. As luck would have, this proved to be one of the best decisions we could have made.
The shrine that we had randomly selected based on proximity and the fact that it was one of the only places left that would still be open when we got there, was Fushimi- Inari. Inari is the god of wealth and business in the Shinto religion and is frequently represented by a fox. This was extremely true with this shrine where there were far more fox statues than I could ever hope to count, which was decidedly inconvenient for me when I initially made the decision to take a picture of every fox statue that I saw as we went through the shrine. This was before I realized how set the Shinto monks were on putting foxes in every corner imaginable and how big the shrine grounds actually were. The beginning of the shrine was simple enough with a number of temples, stairs and statues to enjoy but the real shrine didn’t start until we reached a pathway that is lined with an incredible series of orange-pillared archways. It had begun to get dark when we were there so as we traveled through the pillars it had a very disorienting though welcoming feeling. I had assumed that this would only be a short pathway and the only one of its kind on the grounds but when it ended and opened out into a small clearing with another small temple we discovered another pillared path on the opposite side. It took only a few more experiences like this for us to realize that we had severely underestimated this shrine. We ended up walking further and further through more and more pillars as the path wound upward for about an hour or so and the sun began its rapid descent into the far off mountains. We concluded that while we would have loved to take the path as far as it could go it was getting rather dark and we had already covered enough ground that it would take the remainder of our daylight to backtrack to where we started.
Extremely impressed by the shrine we had now put in our wake, though mildly disappointed about not going further, we set off with hungry stomachs to find some dinner in downtown Kyoto. Having talked about syabusyabu (pronounced “shaboo-shaboo”) for the entirety of trip up to that point we decided that this would be the night we would have it. Compliments of a recommendation from our friend Nick back at the hostel we strolled into a syabusyabu restaurant that promised not only an all-you-can-eat option on the menu but also an all-you-can-drink option as well. Staggered by such a daring offer I could only nod my head in astonished consent as I sat myself down to contemplate this heavenly boon that had been placed in my lap. The syabusyabu was thin strips of raw beef that are placed in one of two different boiling sauces bubbling in the center of the table, absorbing the flavor and cooking it at the same time, reminiscent of certain fondue set-ups. To compliment this delectable entrée I started out with a small urn of sake that held more sake than I expected and then proceeded on to Asahi beer to maintain the Japanese integrity of my drinking. It was easily the best dinner I had in Japan with the exception of perhaps the Outback and curry that I had at the tail end of the weekend but I will discuss that in further detail later.
The night continued as we left the restaurant and happened to cross in front of Crane where. from above Task, the bartender, spotted his three favorite foreigners out his bay window. Feeling now obligated to patronize our new friend we climbed the steps to Crane and sat down for a drink. As we sat and drank and spoke with Task we discovered that one of the reasons for Hostel Nick’s recommendation of Crane was that he and Task were actually very good friends. This eventually led to having him call Nick to see if he was interested in coming out downtown for a drink. Sure enough, after he was done taking care of a few things he was ready and willing to partake. The night carried on with great joviality and chicanery and we ended up staying in Crane for its duration.





…THE SAGA CONTINUES - SAKE AND LIAM
Completely aware that by now I may have lost the entirety of my readership as a result of my unprecedented hiatus, I now put my pen to paper once more for any diehards who may have stuck with me through the lean times.

I confess that one of the things that I kept away from writing for all these months was that as time passed and my last post grew further and further away I realized that the implications of my silence would be a progressively longer post the next time I got back to it. Thus, my resolution, perhaps to the distaste of that last reader or two still listening, has been to essentially start from here on out. I know that my long windedness and attention to inane details (while leaving out important ones in the process) would keep me so backlogged with attempts to get back to speed that I would probably stay three months behind my post date for the duration of this blog. Not to mention, my Mom always told me, in 4th grade, that I should always make sure that I stay up to date with my homework before I tried to make up all of that homework that I hadn’t done on previous occasions. What this means for future posts (if fate should see that more proceed from here) is a complete disruption of my Japan stories and an arbitrary continuation of my story from this date.

I will, however, include one vital aspect to my Japanese story that should not go unmentioned. The element of essentiality that I speak of is the last few days spent in Japan before returning to my Korean home and it begins with a seemingly harmless trip to Mount Fuji….

We arrived in the town nearest to Mount Fuji around midday on that Friday of our week vacation. By this time, an amazingly expensive Japan had me scouring the recesses of my pockets, bags, socks, etc. for every last yen I could find. I had brought a hefty billfold of cash with me from the shores of Korea that had already been exchanged for yen with hopes that it would last the extent of the trip. While I had been told that there was a very distinct possibility that my Korean card might not work in foreign countries (the one in my wallet that has a Visa symbol in the corner, a big picture of the globe in the center and a watermark with the word “GLOBAL” on it), but I did assume that, should worse come to worst, there would be a bank somewhere in Tokyo, at least, that could take my card.
I was wrong.
With our trip drawing to a close I , admittedly, was looking to simply lay low and ride out the storm of poverty until we got back. But, with a healthy bank account waiting for me in Korea and a traveling companion who had made Mount Fuji one of her highlights of the trip I was offered the chance to be bankrolled by my other globe-trotting associate. Still reticent to borrow a friend’s money I was met with a dilemma. The friend who had effectively made me her investment was afflicted with a nagging leg injury that made the sheer ascent of Mount Fuji’s megalithic cliffs and crags impossible while my ambitious mountain climbing friend was hoping to not have to attempt Fuji alone. Encouraged further by the knowledge that this might be the only chance I have do this, I eventually conceded and agreed to the proposition, unconditionally.
The day of our climb began with grey skies and steady rainfall. It was an early morning by my standards and the weather had clearly put a damper on the spirits of our world-wandering, mountain-conquering triumvirate. As we rode the shuttle that would bring us to the starting point of our climb we became increasingly enveloped in a blanket of fog that added generously to the preexisting foreboding that hung in the air. Still, we were on the brink of a new adventure and our rosy outlook was not altogether squelched.
It was already decided that the estimated time to climb Fuji and then return would bring us far too close to missing one of the last trains out of to Tokyo to Fukuoka before our weeklong train pass expired. Mildly disappointed by this, we still looked forward to climbing part of the mountain and being able to claim so. To my future dismay, this decision caused us to look at our undertaking in a much more casual light. My friend equipped herself with small backpack featuring minor necessities suited for the likes of an impromptu hike while I opted to go unburdened with the exception of the silver basketball shorts, t-shirt and long sleeved Slippery Rock shirt that hung from my legs and back. We had also omitted breakfast in the interest of time. Essentially, we were ready for Mount Fuji.
The trail starts off at a pretty reasonable slope and where we started there was still ample forestry and foliage. At first, it didn’t feel that much different from a hike in mountains of Vernon, NJ with the exception of our fellow hikers, on the path, who didn’t altogether resemble much of Vernon’s residents. However, once we cleared the trees we were faced with a series of switchbacks as far as the eye could see which, thanks to fog, was not terribly far. At this point, the climb itself was not particularly exciting. Without trees, we were just facing grey retaining walls that snaked their way up the side of the mountain. Even when we got higher up, the view downward was limited so the view didn’t offer much compensation to those looking for an exhilarating experience. Eventually, my comrade-in-legs suggested that I continue on ahead of her, noticing that I had been holding a slightly quicker pace than her own. I didn’t think much of it but decided it couldn’t hurt to trek a little ahead and see if I could find something worth looking at. That was my approach for awhile until I realized I was growing further and further from her and had the choice of waiting for her or going on ahead. Unwittingly, I sealed my fate by choosing the latter and forging ahead on my own.
Striding forth, on my own, I found myself climbing at a rather rapid pace, relative to the expected time that had been suggested by the signs at each station along the way. Blinded by my marathoning arrogance, I reasoned that based on the way I felt and the amount of time I had saved by walking quickly I could easily reach the summit with ample time to make what promised to be a much quicker descent.
Ignited by my new goal, I pressed upward into the heights of the mountain where the clouds fell beneath me and the mountain air grew dizzying. I discovered here that even on the cloudiest and gloomiest days of the year the top of Mount Fuji is still as sunny as ever. I accrued more and more curious stares from other climbers, peering questioningly at my shirt and shorts before looking back at their own climbing gear, equipped with walking sticks and decked out hiking packs. The looks hinted at the knowledge of something that I still didn’t know and would not know until I found out for myself. Though unsettling, I continued, undaunted, until I reached the volcanic cliffs that gave way to the substantial chasm at the center of this great mountain.
Again, the top was interesting but nothing to write home about (even though I am pretty much doing that now). There was a station at the top where you could buy the basics like water, food and beer which, given a more lenient budget, I may have enjoyed but I sated myself on the view and the experience itself. As far as I, and everyone else at the top, were concerned the air was crisp and the sun was out so I took a deep breath and soaked it in. I met a military fellow from the states, stationed in Japan, who obligingly took the one token picture of me at the top of the mountain to prove my story.
Aware of my rigid schedule, though very workable in light of my unexpectedly speedy ascent, I spent only a few moments at the top before I began to make my way down on the trail that was marked “descent trail.” As it turned out, I fell into stride with my most recent photographer and he explained that he was on the mountain with his father-in-law who he was meeting at the next station down. He was also incredibly accommodating when he learned that I had forgone breakfast and had, by then, found myself somewhat hungry. He treated me to a delightful meal of water, jerky and a marathon bar. It would be more than enough to carry me back to the bottom.
After a short walk with my benefactor, we parted ways and I ventured downward, on my own again, the water and marathon a bar a thing of the past and the remainder of the jerky a bit too salty to consume without the accompaniment of more water. The descent was, of course, easier but as I closed in on the final station my legs began to feel the fatigue of a good day’s climb while my heart fought off the creeping unease that came with not recognizing anything around me from my initial starting point. Unease escalated to despair when I learned that though I had reached the last station, it was the counterpart station situated on the other side of the mountain.
My first reaction was more in response to the inconvenience of the situation and knowing that the time I had made climbing and coming down quickly would be negated by the hassle of finding a way back to the first station. However, when I discovered that the station was much further from my destination than I had reckoned and that the fastest I could get back was a four-hour cab drive that would cost enough yen to purchase a comfortable estate in the countryside, I was sunk. After conferring with the local officials who, if you can believe it, didn’t speak my language I was left with a single alternative- a return trip up the mountain so that I could go back down on the other side.
Sure enough, at the bottom, the sun of Fuji’s peak was nowhere to be seen amidst the unrelenting fog that waited for me below. Seeking any form of sustenance I could find before returning to the wilderness I was able to manage a bottle of barley tea which I greedily emptied, perfectly aware that it would only make me thirstier in the long run.
I reacquainted myself with the beaten trail in a state far removed from the one that I was in when we had first met. The once proud Slippery Rock shirt, emblazoned with the steadfast encouragement from The Rock that fittingly exclaimed “ROCK ON!”, hung mockingly from my drooping shoulders, shivers of excitement replaced by those brought on by chill dampness.
My hopes of making it back on time slipped further and further away as I came to admit that my state would not allow me to make the same kind of time that my sprier earlier self was capable of. I trekked upward, miserable, forced to rest frequently beneath rocks and cliffs that would offer some form of shelter from the falling rain. At one point, to my eternal gratitude, a father, his son and his daughter stopped along the way to see how I was faring. Communicating mainly with the two kids who spoke passing English they learned my story and provided me with sustenance from their own packs. Reinvigorated equally by the food and drink and the spirit of goodwill offered to me, I trudged upward yet again. At stations that I simply walked through during my first time through, I found myself resting for five to ten minutes, falling asleep, dreamingly fitfully, at one point, only to reawaken to an even less than welcoming state of affairs.
Even in my pitiable situation, I was fortunate enough to come upon yet another group of friendly climbers led by a seemingly seasoned outdoorsmen. He offered to hike in my company for as far as he was going. Providing me with another wave of refreshment and some to take with me, which I conveniently stored in my now empty jerky bag in the absence of a proper backpack. Hoping to not slow them down, I was able to keep ahead of them for a good part of the climb before he insisted that I travel alongside them. It was welcome company and, though it was slow going, my hopes of making it back to my friends at any reasonable time was long gone. As we climbed, I asked the man how many times he had climbed Mount Fuji and said it was his second time. Somewhere deep in my mind I could feel a small smile and the urge to say “Funny, it’s mine too” creep up but it was clearly neither the time or place and I wasn’t exactly feeling up to job to make sure the delivery was there.
I parted ways with my companions a couple of stations further. The man told me that they would be bunking for the night and took his leave but not before leaving me with the ominous reminder that the side of Mount Fuji is not a place to be when the sun goes down, no matter the season. Well aware that I was well into mid-afternoon by this time with more mountain to climb again, I forced my legs to keep taking steps forward.
The rest of that second ascent was unremarkable and spent in a bit of a haze. There was no ceremony upon reaching the top the second time and was quickly forgotten so that I could concentrate on making sure that I found the right trail down this time (I feel obligated to say for the integrity of the story, though I risk robbing of some of its splendor, I was actually able to begin my descent a couple of stations before the top, so I actually never made it back to the volcano top again).
Beginning the descent, I was back in the sunlight and it went miles in picking up my spirits again, even as it threatened to slip beneath the horizon with every step I took. Exhausted but hopeful, remembering the people that had helped me out through all of it, I was in a state of tired contentment which made the rest of the climb rather pleasant.
When I reached the bottom, the pleasantness continued. It quickly became evident that my friends had long since gone from the bottom station and I considered it a distinct possibility that they had gone further than that. As if to mock me, or maybe congratulate me, the fog was nowhere to be seen and from where the station stood we were still sitting at a pretty considerable height, allowing me to snap a few shots of the sun setting behind a series of cool-whip© clouds.
When I reached home base back in town, a note was left for me from my friends explaining their need to leave to catch the last train from Tokyo and the ferry we had already paid for in Fukuoka. I quickly absorbed the magnitude of this situation and drew a very simple conclusion. As my readership will recall, my financial situation was bleak at best before I attempted Fuji. With my recently absent benefactress I was essentially a phoneless vagabond in the rural outskirts of the Tokyo Prefecture. Naturally, I asked the kindly hostel owner if I could take shower before I left, even though we had already checked out. He assented with a smile. I rinsed myself in earnest to cleanse myself of my Fuji filth. I subsequently discovered that the eternal sun I welcomed at the top of Mount Fuji had given me one of the worst sunburns my face had ever experienced.
Afterward, I thankfully brandished the round trip ticket back to Tokyo that we purchased before getting to the mountain and got aboard one of the last trains headed that way. Happily, I reached Tokyo where clear skies awaited me and set out, now reunited with all of my bags and laptop, to find the internet. With something like 700 yen to my name I looked for anywhere that I could find wi-fi, looking predominantly in cafes and the like. Unfortunately, it was somewhere around the 10:00 to 11:00 PM time and most places were closed. The closest thing I came to was a Wendy’s where I put up a prayer, hoping for cheap food and the internet. What I found was enough money for a small chili and nothing else. Still, I lugged my belongings around a few blocks before I saw a temple nestled in the middle of a few buildings and across the street from a police station that, to my misfortune, was closed. I settled beneath a statue of a lion-gorilla beast and rested my weary bones. Sleep took me quicker than I expected and in no time I was officially penniless and homeless in Japan. I woke up every hour or so often, very aware that what I expected to be a low foot traffic area still kept a steady flow of passers-by.
I properly returned to the world sometime around 7:00 AM and looked over to discover that crime’s business hours had begun so, sure enough, so had the police station’s. I assumed that my previous interaction with local Japanese officials on Fuji was certain to be a precursor to this one, and it was. My main goal was and remained, throughout our negotiations, to find a way to get to the internet. After an hour of gestures, being shown a chart of different pictures that allowed me to point to such expressions as “I’ve been robbed”, “I’m lost” and “I am sick”, and calling a translator I was given two choices: First, I could take 2,000 yen from the four officers there (out of their own pocket because I’m pretty sure most police stations don’t have a bank account for these kinds of situations) to find an internet café or to call the embassy and get myself extradited back to the states- I graciously accepted the money and left.
From there, I was back to wandering, but this time I was a man of means. The prospect of eating something and talking to somebody who could help me let me forget my aches from a 10-hour hike and shouldering everything I had taken to Japan. By now it was mid-morning and cafes were beginning to open up. I felt certain that if nothing else, I would find a Starbucks where I could find what I was looking for. It was at this time that I realized what I took for granted in Korea. Back here on the Peninsula, it takes a serious effort to avoid the internet no matter where you go. In Tokyo, I found something in the realm of five or six Starbucks in addition to a laundry list of corner cafes with nothing to offer but coffee. My beacon of hope didn’t come until I found a three-story McDonald’s with a sign that said free wi-fi. With my excitement nearly palpable I inquired about the wi-fi to a kindly employee who assured me I would find what I was looking for on the third floor. I ordered a meal and was up the stairs as fast as the food being sold.
When I reached the top and settled down I realized there weren’t any available electric sockets in the area. This would be a problem if I tried to make a phone call and used up the battery but I took the gamble and went for it. What I found was a weak connection that I later discovered only worked for portable video game consoles and was useless to my computer. Suddenly, I was a little closer to broke with nothing to show for it and as I looked out the window- would you believe it?- it started to rain.
All things considered, I believe myself to be rather lucky that the rain didn’t come earlier while I was sleeping over at the temple. At this point, my face was equal parts grimace and grin. I wasn’t sure if this was an absolutely awful thing happening to me or just a good story (For those reading, you might not even agree on the second part but it’s what got me through the tough times). Somewhat at a loss for what to do, I ran to a nearby establishment that looked a like a mix between a restaurant and a café. It was a long-shot but it was dry so I inquired within. Sure enough, this was the one place in all of Japan that had the internet and once again I believed it was mission accomplished. Nay, it would have been, but my latest expenses at the Golden Arches left me short of even the cheapest thing at this evidently classy establishment. So close to success, I sulked out the door- defeated.
Aimless again, I decided to check out a restaurant that didn’t open until 11 AM that promised wi-fi on its sign. Naturally dubious, I pulled myself up the steps and asked to look at the menu and then asked about wi-fi. The man answered in the affirmative rather matter-of-factly but I’m sure the size of my smile was enough to make him think he had been selected for canonization.
I plopped myself at a stool facing the window and, as if to mock the rain that had thwarted me before, set up my computer right in front. I ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, which I later discovered was free refills on a vast assortment of juices from the juice bar for an hour, and logged on. I made two crucial contacts during my time at this place. I was able to call my parents to let them know I was broke and get a message to a friend of mine from Vernon that was living in Tokyo, who I had met up with earlier in the week but hadn’t seen since high school before that. With my parents still confused but ever-selfless, my financial woes were taken care of, though they couldn’t wire me the money until the next day, Monday. That’s where my friend Catherine Bergmann comes in. Apparently, I wasn’t content with the amount of time we had spent catching up during the week so I stranded myself in Tokyo to remedy the situation.
First, as I messaged her phone from my computer she headed in my direction to meet me. It was shortly after that I was handed a bill that proved to be beyond my wealth. The plan had to change. Instead of meeting her, she was coming to rescue me from a night spent cleaning dishes, which might have been preferable to another night underneath the lion-gorilla. From there, she treated me to lunch at Outback Steakhouse and dinner at particularly appetizing curry restaurant. Not to mention, she offered me her couch to sleep on for the night and a chance to message my school with the bad news. The next day brought me to the nearest bank that could wire money from America which was, naturally, a Brazilian bank where the issue of translation was yet more compounded. Luckily, Catherine’s generosity carried me right to the platform at the train station and I nabbed the earliest train to Fukuoka- where I would have to pay for another ferry to get back home.
The next night was a quiet night spent in the very same hostel that began my whole adventure. I made dinner simple with some Japanese Wendy’s and capitalized on a rainless night in the city by walking around and eventually settling in with a few Assahis and austere but clean sleeping quarters. At long last, a modicum of rationality had returned to my life and the remainder of the evening glided into Morpheus’ embrace with noted amicability.
The next day took me back to my Asian homeland and, after some apologizing and fast talking with my superiors, I was happily prepared to return to my routine back at school.