Shibuya again

Here I sit in Shibuya not far from where I went at the beginning of this trip. I have crossed that crossing amongst the masses myriad times. I have yet to be robbed.

The main thing I misplaced was hostel keys. This is unsurprising.

I packed the wrong things. I was awkward at times. I have been tired, as ever reminded that my body is not as it once was and that it’s limits are always there awaiting me, reminding me that I am finite and fragile.

I worry about how I am going to travel in the future, but overall I feel good. As good as I can possibly hope for.

That anxiety and fear is gone. I am safe, this is nice, I am enjoying it. I settle into things.

I also have nothing much to steal. Enough to buy a 7/11 dinner and transit fare to the airport.

The main thing to worry about now is my flight. I check the time over and over in the hope that the triplicate events in my phone (generated by some sort of email thing not me) are in fact real and right, that I am not as ever messing up and getting the details wrong. Something to work on. Trusting myself, trusting that things will work out, that I can be safe and okay.

I am content. I am here in this moment. Savouring what remains.

Have a break

I am having a good day, other than the bit where my arm got tired and I had to deal with luggage, but that is to be expected. I got on a train, slept, I wandered around, I’m now at a cafe.

I’ve always felt good traveling by myself. Having a generous amount of time in a place, space to get bored.

I love this quiet out of the way town even if it’s too hot here.

It’s hard to believe it’s break already, the trip is winding down, the time grows short. I’m on budget, I can spend the money on food.

Traveling as a group is nice, it has its perks but it’s also something I’m bad at. I have traveled by myself a lot, I have gotten good at being on my own, being with others I don’t know about. It’s a lot harder for me than being by myself. Between freelancing and moving around and living in my own head I have spent so much time on my own terms, no compromises, no company but books and podcasts. Sometimes I think I’ve gotten too good at being by myself.

Even if it can be awkward and tiring I am enjoying the people out here. You don’t get that by yourself.

Blessing for a new era

It is a new era in Japan today, an exciting time to be in this country. We have walked past lines at shrines and it has gotten me thinking about the way we mark changes. Endings. Beginnings. The new year. The new era. Look forward to the future with hope and possibility. Ready or not here we come.

So I have been strolling the hills of Tokyo and thinking of my blessing for a new era, in the style of Harry Potter and the Sacred Text. I don’t know how or if this is a thing people would do in Japan but I think the sentiment in enough. I go to the shrine by my hostel and stand in awe and hope that maybe the health will rub off on me.

I write this on a stoop as rain falls softly beside me. I am content. My body is tired, the good kind from lots of walking. My wrist aches, the bad kind of pain that scares me and makes me wonder about whether I can do things I care about. My sleeves are rolled up slightly and I am excited to spend the night reading a book that fills me with delight.

So a blessing for the new era:

May I be kind and patient. May others be kind and patient with me.

May we take care of each other. May we think more of beauty and joy and less of money. May we put well-being first and foremost.

May we remember that no matter how many iThings we create we are still merely creatures, that our lives and bodies are fragile and precarious.

May I remember to enjoy what I have while I have it. May I remember to enjoy the people who are in my life while I have them.

May I be wise enough to ask for help. May that help be available when I ask for it.

Shibuya crossed

I am glad that it’s a Sunday morning. It feels tame yet it’s still crowded and stressful. I want to disappear down a side street, find a cafe to read at, I don’t really want to be here.

I am worried about pickpockets, about all the ways I might fuck up and ended up having to spend money I don’t have. That voice was so loud before I left, louder than the excitement I was expectantly asked to feel. I was excited but my brain was more preoccupied with the feeling that I’d mess up in some unfixable way and never recover. The same feeling that drives my anxiety dreams about forgetting to do an assignment and then flunking out of my MLA because of it.

The silly thing is that I am very comfortable traveling. I have done it a lot and there are few things that feel as natural and easy.

I am good. I am content. My brain is tired and it really just wants to go somewhere cozy to listen to John Green’s voice as he examines and rates the world I inhabit in a way that makes me swoon at the beauty of stories and words, in a way that reminds me of how I got to be this particular person doing this set of things. Always the love of words and ideas and stories. Always.

It’s early. I wandered the quiet streets of Tokyo and enjoyed the narrow alleys, vending machines and buildings. Was thrilled to discover an unremarkable park filled with people exercising and doing their morning routines. I watch water flow in a wide river that tries to contain and mask it.

I rode trains, beautiful, wonderful trains.

I was distraught to find that the pastry I ate for breakfast every morning the last time I was in Japan (yes EVERY morning) is no longer available. While mourning the loss of a treasured routine I tried a different pastry from 7/11 and was pleasantly satisfied.

Now I am here in Shibuya waiting for things to open, feeling tired. I came here because I’d like to buy a toque, because somehow I am always cold. I thought it was spring so I didn’t pack one. I don’t know if it’s worth it, or if I have enough cash in my wallet to buy one — an unfortunate oversight.

I remember liking a couple of design stores out here last time. I remember enjoying it.

I wait for things to open, I wait for the city and myself to wake up.

Somersby

This is probably one of the things that I will miss the most about Denmark. It is something that I will always want to order but probably won’t be able to get, which is a real shame. It’s not about a particular place or time, but about something that is so delicious. It was something that you brought to dinner, parties, whatever. It was one of the quintessential tastes of being an exchange student.

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