The Day
I arrived in Matsumoto was a holiday, the misfortune continues I thought as I was out another sixty dollars for lodging. Kita-Matsumoto (North Matsumoto), while not as small as the stations I had passed, was much smaller than I had anticipated. The relatively new building kept me warm as the ominous gray sky continued to loom overhead. With no data using a screenshot like an old map was a fun challenge. Traveling blind was more fun than following breadcrumbs.
Smartphones, for all the amazing things they do, suck the fun out of life. Similar to the way open world RPGs were simplified to walking towards waypoints on a map, gone are the days of getting lost in your own adventure. Was my generation being stripped of random interactions with strangers, listening to the sounds around us, or even observing the beauty of the moment? People from my generation go about looking at replications of the real world on tiny five inch screens. Even worse we try to contain the large world inside of them. . . but neither pictures nor words will tell the entire story.
Or perhaps that just makes the random interactions we do have all the more memorable?
I Had Picked
the Tabi Shiro because it was a traditional style Japanese inn, but the lights were off and it didn’t look open quite yet. I rang on the doorway anyway and a man sporting framed glasses made his way to the door. “We’re not open yet” said the man, “but you can leave your stuff here” motioning towards a small room I laid my heavy backpack down. Being able to leave my heavy backpack behind lifted my spirits and I had my first Japanglish conversation in my new town. We talked about where I was from, why I had come to japan, and the things I could do around town. Handing me a custom map we laid out things I could do until the in was officially open.
The Millenial Drug
was the smartphone itself. Research had shown that social media notifications affected the same parts of the brain as drugs, alcohol, and gambling, I was craving that fix. What stood between me and the cravings of information consumption was a thirty minute walk. Much easier said than done as the cold outside air agitated my skin, my legs were sore but I kept on walking. The excitement of exploring and learning again rushed through my bloodstream like caffeine and sugar from a monster energy. Like being born again it was like I was experiencing having five senses again. It is possible to read about Japan and its culture in books. . . but experiencing it is the only form of true learning. Being here caused the black and white landscape of home to be colored again. When I had first arrived in Browns Point from a small quiet city called Milton the sound of the planes caused me to look up the sky and wonder. The cool crisp air coming off of the sound carried with it the taste of salt. The puget sound was a fitting name as the soft sound of waves caressing the shore ever subtly made their way up the hill. The cries of seagulls, eagles, and the bark of seals were melodies to the constant beat of the sea. Loud horns of boats echoed through the fog filled mornings, and the city lights reflected on the water merging the twinkling stars of the night sky with humanity who lived in their warm light.
Humans are made of elements that are only formed when stars explode, I was feeling like a fallen star that wanted to shine once more
Telephone
is a game that young kids play allowing you to discover the fun of having a message passed from one person to another. In reality it’s a game that we all play, yet we have forgotten the lesson that the game has taught us. Whether you’re gossiping in school, listening to the news, or trying to get a smartphone in Japan it was a game that always went on. Having a three way was supposed to be more sexy than passing a phone back and forward, but thanks to Docomo’s English speaking support I could now abuse technology to get my dopamine rush. As I began my journey back to the now open inn, a snowflake carried by the cold harsh wind struck my cheek. Not believing what I was seeing, my eyes scanned the sky for more snow, which fell at an ever increasing pace. Snow in March. . . I can only imagine what winter is like, the journey back to the inn seemed longer that ever with the already unfamiliar streets now covered in white dust.
I Was Soggy Down to My Soul
as I entered the small area designated for taking of your shoes, which was now illuminated by a warm glow as the rest of the world grew darker around us. Inside of the ryokan were people resting from their day of travels. Doing various things like reading or cooking, the atmosphere gave off a real homie vibe. The owner sat behind the bar doing various tasks, after seeing I’d returned he greeted me with a warm smile and asked if there was anything I needed. The last time I’d been to Japan, the only thing I didn’t get to cross off my list was going to an onsen(natural hot spring). “Is there an onsen around here?” “No I’m sorry to say that they’re all pretty far, but there is a sento(public bath house) about a fifteen minute walk from here” Despite despising the snow I stepped outside and began trudging through the now multiple inches that had accumulated. By the time I made it to the bath house, it was completely dark. I was glad they made you take your shoes off, I took the opportunity to take my soggy socks off, because having soggy socks was one of my least favorite things. Being confused with the way the coin locks worked I stood there staring until the person behind the counter ended up just coming over and showing me how it worked. After paying a fee for entry and towel rental I entered the side that had the big kanji for guys on it.
Nudity
is something that society, especially western society seems to hush up and sweep under the rug. The only person who was supposed to see my naked body was me. . . and it’s not like I took the time to carefully observe it either. Stripping down in order to enter the bath shouldn’t be something to be feared, but in the west we seem to be ashamed of our own bodies. I came all the way here, you’re in japan, and most importantly I already paid. . . I hate wasting money. Getting it over as fast as possible I quickly stripped off my clothes. It’s not like there were people looking at me, but it felt weird and awkward for about two seconds. . . then I was like ah I’m naked. . . it’s kind of freeing in a way. After using the showers I was free to enter the baths. The last time I had a bath was only a couple weeks ago at the training session. . . but damn did it feel good to dissolve into some hot water. It wasn’t only my body that was free. . . I let my mind wander as I tried to meditate in the relaxing atmosphere of the bath. In western society we never had time for baths. . . it’s always a quick shower to hurrying about the day. What were we in a hurry for? I contemplated the importance of not having to think about anything important for that small time in the bath. The only thing I desired was not to desire anything, but the state of a completely empty mind is impossible. . . instead to be in the present it was important to just let the mind run like a faucet.
My Mind
wasn’t the only thing I let run that night, as I wanted to make it back to the ryokan and out of the snow as fast as possible. The cool hues of night were offset by the orange tinge of the Tabi Shiro. An old-fashioned fireplace stove gave off toasty heat as people were reading, chatting, or drinking at the bar. Resisting the urge to go straight to my room and spend the rest of the night alone I nervously took out my sketchbook and began sketching. The background noise was nice to have, but my nerves shook even drawing in front of others. A younger couple was now just checking in, after they made their way over to the table and struck up a conversation with me.
In nervous Japanese I was able to tell them that I was from America, I came to Matsumoto to teach English, and my big dream was to go to an animation school in Kyoto. Making a sketch of one of them, I showed them and they were surprised and amazed. Although I never thought anything I drew was suprising or amazing it was nice to see that they were happy about it. The owner of the inn walked over and tended to the fire placing another log onto the fire. After finishing my conversation I situated myself in one of the chairs right in front of the fire and continued my practice. The fire reminded me of home, the warm memories, and the actual gas fireplaces my family had in lieu of electronic central heating. My dad wanted fireplaces because it was cheaper than running electric heating to warm us during cold months.
A cute Girl
came over and sat in the seat right next to mine, thinking she only wanted the practical warmth of the fireplace I just continued doing me. The beating in my chest grew heavier and louder as the time passed, she was the first to speak. “Why did you come here?” (Japanese) She confidently asked “Oh I came here to become an english teacher” (Japanese) I answered in broken shaky japanese. Letting out a small laugh, I had noticed that I hadn’t looked over until now, just to find that she looked down and then peered my direction. “Why did you chose Matsumoto?” (Japanese) “I didn’t choose here. . . my company did, I said anywhere in Japan would be fine” (Japanese) “It was fate. . . “(English) I didn’t want to believe in fate, but it seemed my life was on rails. And nothing ever good came out of my life. . . everytime I tried to do something to improve my life it either didn’t end up working or blew up faster than the two ACLs I’d gone through. hating to have the conversation about me I did the thing I always do and asked a question. It was much easier to get other people to talk about themselves. . . because most people liked themselves. I was the opposite I hated talking about me or the things I did “Why did you come to Matsumoto?” (Japanese) “I’m from a small city about an hour away. . . I got into a fight with my parents about college so I got a job and moved away.” (Japanglish) That answer left me feeling stunned. . . what a brave girl. I had wanted to chase my dreams of being either a filmmaker, YouTuber, or gamer, but ended up being coerced into going to college by my parents. Although I doubt I’d get to live in Japan if any of those dreams came true, it was still amazing to see someone out there was living life as a free adventure. “What was your name. . . I’m Marco”(Japanese) when she burst out laughing at my response . . . I was perplexed “Chibi Maruko she said with a big smile. . .I’m Mana” (Japanese)
Chibi Maruko
was a small Japanese character, and although she was a girl. . . we were plenty alike. . . at least from what I gather from the couple episodes I watched. Maruko is the younger brattier sibling, who never studies, and floats through life. . . just like in real life Parents place all their love, hope, and expectations onto the older sibling and are tiered by the time you pop out of the womb. . . the lack of baby videos and pictures was proof. And while everyone believed in and wanted to be like Cristina. . .they were just happy to see you get B’s. . . Asian Fs. They didn’t care what you did as long as you didn’t end up in jail or dead. . so I did what most humans do when low expectations are placed upon them. . . I slacked and ended up living up to those low expectations. After reliving my childhood, I returned to drawing. Not knowing what else to draw I peered over in Mana’s direction and started drawing her. Did the fire get hotter. . . occasionally we’d share glances and a couple words, but I think it was nice just enjoying each other’s company. I had read somewhere that japanese people had this concept of enjoying a shared silence, but foreigners have trouble staying quiet. . . I was different in that I enjoyed it when there was no speaking. Words are clumsy things anyway you can tell from observing people when they are comfortable being around you. . . or most people can. I always found it hard to read body language and facial expressions, which made it very difficult to talk to most girls who always speak about things indirectly. One of the reasons I enjoyed anime and manga so much is because in the genre’s I watched it was easy to tell if a character was nervous, happy, or sad.
I’d been Burned before
so this time I knew better. Girls that were nice to me, were also nice to everyone so there was no need to get my hopes up. Nice girls were the ones who especially couldn’t be trusted. For someone with no social adjustment, and with less real friends than fingers. When girls interacted with you for an extended period of time, you start to think oh wow this girl likes me. Only when you turn around to express how you feel, the smiles come to an end and they say let’s just be friends. . . but you both know that situation is impossible and eventually the only interaction you have is a slight glance. . . it’s not this way for all guys as many of the more socially adjusted males have plenty of girls that are just friends. But for a socially inept loner, it simply makes you more wary in the future. The hopeless romantic I couldn’t kill off made another wish for the bucket list “sit by warm fire with girlfriend”. I finished my drawing and showed it to Mana, who seemed to like it and then made my way to the bar to receive my complimentary drink.
Drinking
wasn’t an activity I actually enjoyed to do very often. Although I have a couple good memories drinking, they are overpowered by the ones where I end up doing something so embarrassing I want to disappear. When I drank it was impossible to draw or think . . . it was sort of like your thoughts were immediately made into actions. The adverse health effects of drinking often wasn’t something I desired as well. What made me not drink the most is all the inspirational/advice videos I watched on YouTube, which told you to strive for every edge that you could get. I’d spent all my time trying to be a pro gamer in college and drinking wasn’t something that made you better at the game. . . but there was a group of people that drank more often than me that were way better at said game. . . no one said life was fair. My drug of choice was illegal in Japan so I sat down and asked for hot sake. “What’s your name by the way” I asked the owner in english. Not realizing my mistake, he looked over from preparing the drink. “Name??” he said pointing to himself “Kiyo” he was shocked that I had ordered hot sake, perhaps is something only old japanese men enjoy. After the cold night in the snow something hot sounded nice and the taste of sake was crisp and sweet. The method in which the sake was heated was very interesting to me. I watched as he pulled a small metal box with some water in the bottom and placed it on top of the stove fireplace. Taking a small container of sake out as well it was placed in the box with the water and left to heat up. Another young looking guy walked over and asked for a beer, placing his ticket on the counter. Sitting in the chair next to mine, I uncharacteristically struck up a conversation. “Where are you from?” After learning he was from the U.K. he told me the stories of his travels in japan, from the east, to the north, now here(central japan), and then west the next day. He told me that it was cheap to stay at these kinds of places using the JR rail pass to get from city to city. Being a long-term resident of Japan made it impossible for me to receive one, and being as broke as I was even “cheap traveling” was expensive. Mana came over and ordered a drink which was non alcoholic due to her age, and then the young couple as well. We stayed there talking for an hour or so before people began to retire. Walking up to my room I saw the traditional futon and laid it out on the Tatami mat, it was much more comfortable than I thought it’d be and I quickly returned to the land of my dreams.
