One Month in Japan

My wife and I went to Japan for our honeymoon. We were lucky to be able to take several weeks off work to completely disconnect. Every day, I wrote in a small journal with a tiny travel pen about what we did, where we went, and what we saw. Necessary so that we can re-live the details in a few years, but admittedly about as interesting as a convenience store receipt. More than what we saw and did, I wanted to talk a bit about what we felt on our trip.

Travel is Anxiety#

We received our first dose an hour into our flight to Tokyo when our pilot, with a moderated urgency blurted, "Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts immediately." Flight attendants scurried down both aisles asking, "Police or military?"

This was an alarming first. I've heard calls for medical personnel frequently on international flights. But military? Our minds immediately jumped to hijacking or some high-profile crime in progress. Whispers circulated throughout the cabin. There was a fight in the back of the aircraft. Would we turn around?

In the end, an extremely drunk passenger was subdued by the relief pilots. Anxiety gone. The pilot keyed on the mic to say, "Well, I know there are a lot of pilots taking care of an issue in the back of the plane, but I just wanted to let you know we still have a crew flying." Cue laughs, and a collective exhale from the 400 people on board.

Tip

Assaulting a flight attendant is a great travel hack to be first off an airplane... in police custody.

Will our transit passes work at the subway turn-style? Will this restaurant be good? Will we get hypothermia in the mountains of Kamikochi? Anxiety often came in short spurts. It's a burden that adds contrast to memories.

Flow, Fast and Slow#

But in Japan in particular, our anxiety was quickly relieved by things that just worked. Transit, food, hotels, shopping were all seamless. We'd venture down into a subway station onto waiting trains and be whisked off to another part of the city. Restaurant closed? There's another one that's at least as good in the same building just a few floors up.

The feeling of rush, or flow in the cities of Japan was entirely new to me. At times, Tokyo felt like a massive, technicolor play scape. Instead of chutes and ladders you ride escalators and trains. In the station, down the escalator, wait at the right subway door, board the line, watch as stations dash by, exit at 2A, and you're at the best tempura meal of your life.

It was easy to spend entire days just walking and exploring Tokyo in this flow state. Whether down a quiet back street or through the bustling Shibuya scramble, we felt an ease and distinct current to the city's life. I left Tokyo feeling I could return a hundred more times and never see enough.

In the countryside, the flow of life slowed considerably. We trekked between towns on trails that were hundreds of years old. Still, when we were tired of walking there was always a train nearby to take us to our next town.

Quiet Surprises#

So many people we met were subtly charming. There's the sushi chef who saw that I was left-handed and re-arranged my order. There's the bike shop owner who rushed out to give us stickers and ask where we were from after he noticed us taking a photo in front of his store. One Okonomiaki chef welcomed us graciously despite not speaking a word of English and treated us to an incredible meal in the restaurant she'd owned for 33 years.

We stayed at several traditional Ryokans and marveled at the sweets the left in our rooms and even moreso at the meals they served. We walked down stone paths to secluded onsen pools and marveled at their steaming serenity.

This seemed to be the way: ride bustling trains and busses to a small shrine on the outskirts of Kyoto and find surprise at the silence. Meander through a busy train station and duck into a quiet ramen shop with the most sumptuous noodles imaginable.

Time Together#

There's a feeling of satisfaction in spending quality time with the person you love. We we're deeply happy on many parts of this trip. In particular, the 2-hour multi-course meals set the scene for conversations about everything and nothing in particular. Each dish we ate was worthy of an entire conversation in and of itself. The new context made me reflect on how rushed out life back in the U.S. was. How sometimes in our day-to-day week we eat semi-silently over our dinners. More than anything I hope to keep those memories as a reference through the rest of our lives together.