But, I never really anticipated that I would be alone in a foreign country. Much less a foreign country where you need to be able to read hiragana, katakana AND kanji just to be able to flush a goddamn toilet. When you have a travel companion, it is all hilarity and laughs. Forging your way on your own is an entirely different experience.
My first Saturday alone, I decided to head to Enoshima, which is a small island about 50km south of my home in Sagamihara. Navigating Japan is usually quite easy because Jan does like 2 hours of travel planning every time we leave the house and all I have to do is not trip over my own feet or get distracted by pigeons. When left to my own devices, distracting pigeons are pretty low on my list of problems behind not being on the train platform that takes me in the exact opposite direction of where I'm going or getting lost leaving the bathroom.
I decided to spend the extra 400 yen and get a Romancecar ticket – an express train where you have an assigned seat and cute Japanese girls sell you beers and bento boxes. I arrived in style at the Katase-Enoshima station with absolutely no plan whatsoever, and having done no research about where to go and how to get there. I'm a super good adult. So I just wandered out of the train station, itchy finger on my Google Maps app, and walked out into the sun. And there it was – MOUNT EFFING FUJI. Just right there in front of me. Across the water, but right there.
I walked over to a lookout point next to a pedestrian bridge that takes you to the actual island, and I just sat there and stared. Mt. Fuji – even from such a distance – just imposes itself on you. I'm not sure I truly appreciated the word “regal” until then.
My friend and Japanese cultural adviser had recommended I go left instead of straight once crossing the pedestrian bridge onto the island, to avoid the touristy crowd that makes its way up to the shrines at the top of the island. I took this advise, and quickly found myself quite literally wandering on people's front porches. There were no other people there, just a ton of cats roaming around and annoyingly countering my growing anxiety with their complete lack of fucks given about absolutely anything at all.
I finally encounter a road that has a couple of storefronts that appear to be restaurants and I started to feel like maybe I hadn't gotten lost entirely. I noticed an old man sitting on a bench in front of one, and he noticed me. He waved me over and slowly stood up to walk towards me. The ground under my feet felt a thousand years old, and it probably was. He eventually stopped near a staircase, and beckoned over an island cat. With his hand gestures and expressions, he gave me permission to pet it, although the cat itself had clearly not been consulted regarding this authorization. Island cat was less interested in my affection than my own cat, who I feed and whose shit I scoop up while he chews on my ankles.
After being rebuked by the island cat, the old man pointed me up a narrow, scary looking staircase. He nodded and bowed as I thanked him and headed up the staircase, hoping it led to somewhere that wasn't a secret gaijin prison. I was on a tsunami evacuation route which I surmised from the signs that made stick figures drowning look HILARIOUS, and getting increasingly worried about where exactly I was heading. Finally, I saw a tsunami of people (see what I did there?). I had made it to the top and was encountered with a huge Torii gate and a series of beautiful temples. My grandmother is Buddhist and she always projects so much tranquility and wisdom – I felt like she was there with me. I'm used to TOKYO BRIGHT LIGHTS FLASHING THINGS SCANTILLY CLAD WOMEN IN HEELS BIG CITY... but up there among the temples, I hadn't felt more secluded in months. I was aware of each deep breath I took, because it felt reinvigorating and cleansing. The lack of distractions was both relieving and jarring.
I ended up at a lookout at the very top of the island, and had a moment of total peace and clarity. I had gotten myself there – not just in a not-distracted-by-pigeons transportation standpoint, but I had gotten myself to JAPAN after years of hard work – holy SHIT, this is my HOME now. With the wind whipping my hair into dreadlocks and the sun setting behind Mt Fuji right in front of me, I done got all teary-eyed. I instinctively reached out to grab my husband's hand, but he was thousands of miles away.
My Enoshima experience was a great exercise in being alone and being with oneself spiritually. In the following days, it was countered by immersing myself into a community of friends who are also ex-pats in Japan. We had happy hours, dinner parties, outings to the fish market and water taxi rides – I learned how to be alone in congruence with welcoming new friendships and getting out of my shell (which is pretty thin let's be honest but go with it).
So, my other half got back from the States this weekend. We headed into Shinjuku then Ginza and had a ridiculously fun time being miscreants and arcading and playing Jenga with bartenders and all other sorts of escapades. It's so nice to have my travel buddy and best friend back, but his absence also emphasized how critical to sanity and reinvigorating solitude is.
Take the scary stairs to a indeterminate destination. Pet a skanky island cat who wants to maul you because a sweet old man tells you to. Go on a journey with no escape route. These are all cheesy recommendations, what I really want to say is carry enough change to always be able to pop into an arcade and play MarioKart after buying a couple of road Highballs. Life is fun with a partner, but life is fun period.
Be your own best friend, and you'll be a better best friend.
