Japan Stories

I’ve been at home coughing like a Cuban on fifty cigars a day for the past week or so, with the result that I still don’t feel as if I’m in Spain. Or in Cuba, for that matter. I’m suspended in some kind of no man’s land, a place where most books are in English and a lot of food is Japanese –especially since I brought back all sorts of goodies from my trip. I had a great time in Japan, and am somehow not ready yet to be faced with ‘home’. Not that I know what that word means, exactly. As I boarded the plane at Narita, I thought again that the more I travel, the more I’m convinced I’ll never really be at home anywhere. Which, maybe, is the way it’s supposed to be. Anyway, since I’m stuck indoors instead of out there having thoughts and experiences to write about, I’ll regale you with some tales of my trip…

Arrivals. I flew into Kansai airport because I wanted to hang out with some friends in Osaka first. The plane ride was smooth, I didn’t sleep a wink but kept that awful new smelling eye mask on for most of the flight anyway. I was determined to keep jet lag to a minimum. When I arrived early the next morning, I was feeling peppier than I’d imagined.

The first things that struck me were how bloody organised everything was (keep in mind I live in Spain!), and how everyone around me was Japanese –yes, I do know I landed in J-a-p-a-n, but don’t duh me too quickly. What I mean is, Osaka (and Tokyo for that matter) are cosmopolitan cities, and I know there are many foreigners schlepping around its streets. So where the hell were they? I wondered about this for the rest of my trip…

Anyway. I made it to my tiny hotel room in Pachinko Town –since I wasn’t planning on staying in Osaka very long, I chose a convenient hotel close to the station. The place was surrounded by neon lights, loud bleeping sounds and people of various ages in various stages of (un)consciousness. Perfect, actually: in my sleep deprived state, I fit right in. I showered, changed into the hotel yukata and crashed out for the rest of the day.

At night, I met a friend for dinner. She cracked up over my choice of hotel –yeah, ok, now you laugh– and we spent ages getting lost in this part of town she swears she never visits. We crossed and recrossed streets regardless of the lights –so not a done thing: groups of people would mindlessly follow us, then have the fright of the night when a car zoomed past. After a few similar incidents, we thought we’d better quit before someone ended up losing vital parts of their anatomy. Seriously, bunch of sheep! We ended up in an izakaya, ordering pretty much half of the menu and ignoring the stares of groups of drinking buddies as we wolfed it all down. I love a girl who isn’t shy to eat!

We’d been toying with the idea of spending a few days in Tottori, her hometown, about 3 hours North of Osaka at the coast of the Japan Sea. I was keen to do some research for my new project, which involves a small Japanese coastal town. And since four consecutive days off is a rare occurrence for her, she thought she’d better visit her mum. Somewhere in the back of my head there flashed a thought that yet more travel might not be such a good thing. But I thought, eff it. I’m a strong girl, right? So we left the next day. Not one of my better ideas…