They began to feel a summoning. It wasn’t the purpose of the trip, it wasn’t as certain as this. But months before, with eyes closed, a picture formed. White sand beaches, crystal clear water, turquoise melting into a burning horizon, endless sunshine; a slower pace. But upon landing in a land with paradise repute, instead met with a horizon doused in inevitable seasonality. The will of the calendar had caught up with them. The rainy season had reared its ugly head. It appeared as Mother Nature had responded with willful intent to thoughtful request. In submissive reply, pace slowed in contrast to torrent. Days spent with mind colouring in bleak scenery. But amongst discouraging condition, enjoyment was still to be found. Hours of happy to celebrate socializing and coin were met with friendly conversation and domination in combinations of four. Batteries recharged, an open window provided auditory invitation. Meeting the morning, brimming with the suns optimism, they made their way towards a sandy canvas soon to be painted with the brush strokes of board through wave. It was in this moment, this ultimate, optimum, flawless, consummate, quintessential moment, that picture took shape. But even in times of happiness, when hearts wish to pause the hands of time, one cannot slow the inevitable constant that is adventure. A city sneaks up in wonderful surprise only to launch towards magical lands numerously portrayed. This time even Mother Nature would not dare tarnish eyes first laid. A serene setting with unique geography lending itself to diverse experience with views from above and below. Alas, yet again were they met with the trying, punishing, onerous task of having to depart paradise. But the map could not be ignored. Titles jumping off of page, too tantalizing to disregard. Onwards. Forwards.

 

There is just nothing quite like it. Amongst the bustle, a sunken cylinder with half of itself showing above ground. Housed in its face, another ode to a simpler time, a clock indicating the time until adventure. Pulling open the door and stepping across the threshold into a traveller’s holy ground. Long and narrow, the illusion of perspective has the eye follow lengths of benches through the concourse to the ticket window. All walks of life represented on these benches. O the stories they could tell. The dramatic vaulted ceiling. Tick tick tick tick tick tick. The walls are alive with letters flipping, revealing a catalogue of possibilities. Hundreds of souls burning with the anticipation for experience. Thousands of eyes watching the hands of the clock click closer to departure. At last, bags on back, the time has come. Again the eyes playing tricks as endless sets of parallel lines lead to a boundless horizon of possibility. Steam billowing, adding drama to a scene already brimming with excitement. Counting carriages replicated one after the other. Unsure whether in reality or a dream, a voice yells “all aboard!” As hands wrap around railing, one last look back to remember a city left behind and a lunge onto the stairway of rocketing rails. A jolt and a glide, ready to be delivered to the next stage of adventure.

   

It was an assault on the senses. Sights and smells beyond comprehension. Lights and tastes, holding our attention. It was a lesson. Appreciating culture, meeting a people, experiencing a new world, it felt destined. Eyes unblinking, they stared through windows, as the final leg of their arrival was about to drop them like the pin puncturing poster on their bedroom wall thousands of miles away. Unfamiliar customs, unfamiliar language, food, drink, clothing, a stranger’s way of life. Chaotic souls still getting used to the idea of this immense undertaking, it was only to be matched by the chaos reverberating from the streets below. Bags dropped, and a deep breath, appreciating the weight of this moment. A moment when one realizes that after this single step forward, nothing would ever be the same. No amount of thought, planning or expectation could prepare oneself for the feeling in this moment. No hesitation, a resolute lunge forward, soul and sole touch down on pavement.

      

      

 

Hey, you know that city you have been dying to visit for the better part of a decade? The one that is obsessed with your obsessions. Coffee, bicycles, beer, whiskey, food, fashion. O ya, you know the one? Great, here’s two days, go see everything…

Not exactly how I dreamed my first visit to Japan would go, but when you are searching for flights and the cheapest option just so happens to connect through Tokyo…you take that flight. To further justify such a short amount of time (to myself), this is and always was a bonus on what is a Southeast Asian adventure. And I will be spending a significant amount of time in Japan at some point in my life, so let’s keep this very sweet cherry exactly on top.

Please press play and listen while reading:

It boiled down to a feeling. That overwhelming sense of having forgotten something. But instead of a physical object, it was a piece of himself. This was no stove left on, garage left open, wallet left in a cab. Instead it was a fragment of his soul, his personality, left behind and floating in wait. Years passed with the relentless rushing water of time turning jagged rock smooth. This feeling of forgottenness eroding at his consciousness, washing away layers of present reality. Until at last, a tender nerve was struck and a wound opened that could not be ignored. This piece of his being, his definition, was out there waiting to be taken back. It wasn’t hiding, it wasn’t stashed away, it was just waiting.