From Tokyo, with love
This is going to sound incredibly cliché, but ever since I was a little girl, I was obsessed with Japan. Mainly the Harajuku Lolita clothing style got me in a death grip from the age of 8 to about 14. At that age, the idea of one day going to Japan was all I could hang onto, knowing that it would probably never happen. Japan was expensive, far away, and not for shy introverted girls like me. As I got older, I had safely tucked away the idea of visiting Japan, not wanting to be confronted with the fact that I would never be able to turn it into a reality. On hindsight, it’s actually very easy to go to Japan. You simply need a little bit of money for a flight and a place to stay, but the rest kind of solves itself as you go.
When the COVID-19 pandemic came around, I suddenly got confronted with the fact that freedom -and travelling wherever you want to- is not a given. That triggered something inside of me that unleashed my obsession with Japan all over again. Realising that we have no control over our freedom, I knew I had to fulfil my dream while I had the chance. As soon as Japan opened its borders in October 2022, I booked a one-way flight to the other side of the world. Being scared of suddenly plunging into a foreign country, I decided to visit an old colleague in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, before I would continue to Japan all by myself.
Sonic The Hedgehog
After spending two weeks in the tropical climate of Kuala Lumpur, surviving on a diet of greasy street food and beer, I booked a last-minute flight to Tokyo. I would arrive three days before my birthday, not minding the fact that I would probably have to celebrate it all alone in one of world’s largest cities. Surely, I was terrified. I cannot imagine anyone not be a little scared when travelling to the other side of the world by themselves. Let alone to a country where you don’t speak the language and with so many unwritten rules it makes your brain itch uncomfortably. I arrived late in the evening, knowing I had to get out of the airport as quick as possible to be able to catch the last train.
Approximately half an hour before landing, the airplane lights turned off and a voice over the speaker told us to look outside. Following the directions of the voice, I leaned my forehead against the window, completely blocking the view from the couple in the seat next to me. But I didn’t care, as I was faced with the most breathtaking sight: a sea of little lights, reaching all the way to the horizon and beyond. The view instantly made me aware of the outright immensity of Tokyo. The city had no end, so it seemed. There were no outlines, lights went as far as my eyes could see. The overwhelming sight made me cry on the spot, making me thankful for picking a window-seat even more so. I bawled my eyes out, realising in that moment that I singlehandedly found myself on a plane flying above the city that kept me awake at night when I was just a little girl.
Rushing through immigration and thanking fate for not having any checked-in luggage, I miraculously found my way to the train station. I took out a bunch of cash and bought a Pasmo IC-card at the machines. Naturally, I had watched a dozen video’s on YouTube, visually explaining how you buy a transportation card at the exact airport I arrived at. Thanks to my anxious preparation, I actually made it just in time to catch the last train to my destination. All the preparation I did in terms of public transport was all the preparation I missed when it came to WiFi or having any means to communicate with the share house I was supposed to reach at midnight. I felt guilty for arriving so late at night, and I tried to ignore the surge of panic I felt realising I had no access to Google Maps. The only thing I had was a screenshot of the route from the station to the share house.
Arriving at Shibuya approximately three minutes before the last train to my share house would depart, I feverishly followed the signs to the metro I was supposed to take. Not wanting to take any risks, I knew it would be a better idea to ask someone where to go. For once in my life, I had to thank DuoLingo for teaching me how to ask for directions. I must have been a sight to behold, a pale and exhausted little girl with two stuffed backpacks, sweating and shaking, huffing and puffing. My eyes must have still been puffy from the crying session in the airplane. The kind station staff barely had the time to point towards the direction of the metro before I set off, speeding through Shibuya Station like if Sonic the Hedgehog was a working donkey. Low and behold, I made it into the last train, having mere seconds to spare. The sigh I sighed in that train could’ve probably been felt up to ten kilometers away. From now on, I was going to be alright.
Coming home
Somehow able to connect to the WiFi at the station, I could text the share house to tell I would probably be a little late. They told me not to worry, and that they were still awake. At this point, it was about 1 after midnight, and I felt guilty for them having to stay awake for me. As I finally reached the share house and dumped my bags in the hallway, I heard loud psytrance beats coming from what seemed like the living room. Utterly exhausted, I was ready to walk in and apologise for my tardiness. However, as I entered the room, it didn’t seem like someone was waiting for me. Instead, the room was filled with people and a full blown party was taking place.
Two people were smoking cigarettes in the garden, while the rest of the people -both Japanese and foreigners- were spread around the room, downing small cups of saké, one after the other. The ceiling was covered in triangular wooden plates, positioned into a trippy geometrical pattern. One wall was filled with Japanese comic books and a massive unit of a television. The opposite wall was halfway covered in a painting that was most certainly done by someone who was high on hallucinogenics. It reminded me of the bedroom of one of my housemates from Amsterdam, especially combined with the buzz of psytrance music and a crowd of tipsy people.
The unreal experience of feeling like coming home in a completely foreign country on the other side of the world made me totally unaware of the usual social anxiety I would have in a situation like this. Instead, I joined the festivities with a half liter can of Lemon Sour in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Approximately an hour after arriving, my exhaustion took over and I made way to my bedroom; a tiny maybe six square meter room with a small low table and a futon. In the back, a sliding door separated the bedroom from a little room with a sink, which I shared with a French girl who arrived two weeks before me. I couldn’t care less about privacy, as the realisation that I was going to spend the coming month in such an amazing place was soothing enough. I recalled warning my mom I might come back sooner, because what if I didn’t like it? However, as I crawled into bed, I sent her a quick message, telling her that three months in Japan might actually be a little too short.