I wrote more on this trip and took more video than actual photos.

A little youtube video

I wrote in hand, and I’ve still yet to go back and dissect through everything I wrote and write something coherent. Here is what I’ve got so far.

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Japan

Before a trip, ones cup is full brimming with expectations, both positive and negative. One can’t help but forming impressions, but the process of travelling is about emptying that cup, letting go and allowing wonder and surprise to guide the way. Reading about a place is no substitute for ‘being there’.

Needless to say, I was more than excited about my trip to Japan. Originally planned in an ‘Eat Tokyo’ in London (sorry), I had grown up watching anime in India (dubbed in Hindi) and generally been a ‘Japanophile’ throughout my teens and early 20’s.

Perhaps what intrigued me was that Japan was ostensibly the exact opposite of India in many ways. The overflowing chaotic tiffin box, compared to the graceful organised Bento box with each item in its respective place.

India is loud. Japan is quiet. India is disorganised chaos, Japan is organised harmony. India has messy blurred divisions, Japan has neat divisions. Indians speak their mind. Japanese are reserved. India is an extroverted culture. Japan is an introverted culture. India has a young population (50% are less than 30 years old!). Japan is one of those countries with an ageing population and falling birth rate. Indians were bright extravagant clothing. Japanese are minimalists preferring earth tones. Indians speak at least 3 languages with many different regions. Japanese typically only speak 1.

Also growing up in Britain, I felt like Japan is many ways is England’s Western cousin, albeit much politer and tidier. At least we both say ‘sorry’ a lot, probably with different undertones of meaning. Both societies of introverts.

Pre-trip

The enjoyment of your travel is inversely proportional to the amount of luggage you carry (Kevin Kelley) I overpacked for this trip, not wanting to do laundry. Bringing my clutter into the land of minimalism. Perfection is achieved not when you add, but when there is nothing left to remove. Analogous to full of expectations, my luggage was full with un-needed items.

I had brought my camera only to find I used my phone. I bought two extra pairs of trousers, unworn. I brought my iPad, which was used only briefly for a few hours during the flight.

I had done the exact opposite of what is recommended by Marie Kondo, and ultimately I had to physically (and mentally) carry these around.

A Japanese aesthetic is an empty room with maybe one of two items, and in doing this one is forced with bring their entire focus and attention to these two objects. The things we do have, we then take care of, and bring a quality of attention that we don’t normally do.

Take care of things, and things will take care of you Sunryu Suzuki

I read Pico Iyer’s new book compromising of short aphorisms on Japan.

Japanese word for ‘wrong’ is the same word for ‘different’.

Japan does not permit dual nationality.

The nail that sticks out must be hammered down.

I land in Haneda airport, well rested after sleeping on the flight. The first port of call is obtaining a ‘Pasmo’ card and money. Japan still heavily uses ‘paper’ money and physical tickets, so I had to withdraw this.

I find an ATM in the airport, as I withdraw money from the ATM, I’m greeted by a cute jingle and the tactile number buttons produce ‘ding’ noises as I press them. Alien.

As I took the train from Haneda airport to my hostel, I looked out in wonder at the city. A school surrounded on all fours by a cemetery. The train is full, yet completely silent.

After settling in the hostel and waiting to meet up with the rest of my group, I sit in the park nearby and write. Around me flowers, wind and distant voices of children and their mothers playing.

I had booked onto a solo travellers group which would involve a 12 day whirlwind tour of Japan, going from Tokyo, to Kyoto, Osaka, Kanazawa, Hiroshima and Miyajima island.

I met my tour group that evening, a group of 20-30 year olds from Australia, Canada, US, Germany, Switzerland and UK.

That evening, e took a walk to Hanazono shrine (Shinto shrine) located in Shinjuju, famous with business men. A theme I would keep on noticing in Japan - congruent juxtaposition : the old with the new, but it somehow worked.

Japan seems like a land of seeming dualities, but simultaneously with shades of grey. Old technology (paper tickets, coins) intermixed with new technology. A public vs a private self with brilliant bursts of eccentricity. Acceptance of foreigners, but rejection of inclusion of those foreigners into society. Nature vs Neon lights.

We went to dinner from there, and I ordered way too much. Interestingly, you pay extra if you leave left-overs, as a way to disincentive food waste.

We walked back to the hostel from here, and after settling in, I set back out once again into the neon city at night, the jetlag holding me captive.

A man in white wearing a flashing LED red vest sweeps the floor at 11pm. Two impeccably dressed girls walk at 11:30pm in their red velvet summer dresses, phones out, with no concern for safety. It seemed like the city was just waking up.

Japanese Starbucks

I did most of my writing in Starbucks in Japan, and more often than not, I had more observations within the Starbucks than I had time to process. I wanted to recall the events of the day, yet I would often have new material every 10 seconds. An American walks in asking for a short decaff soy latte. He has to repeat this order a further 4 times. The Japanese businessmen line up at 7am like clockwork, and I join them waiting for the doors to open. A single salaryman sits down in the corner and slowly enjoys a pink glazed donut, pausing to occasionally stare out of the window.

Remembrance

Shinbuya is the second busiest station in the world (3 million passengers per day), only surpassed by its neighbour Shinjuku. Walking through the station, one blends into the silent orchestra of movement, anonymous and part of a greater whole. In Shibya there is a large painting depicting the atomic bombing. A constant remembrance of the past, even as countless busy passengers make their way. ‘The Myth of Tomorrow’ by Tokyo Okamato, which is often compared to Picasso’s Guernica. Remnants of the past are all around, in every country or place you visit.

From there we made out way to ‘Hachiko’ memorial statue. Perhaps a reminder of Japanese persistence and loyalty. It is the story of an Akita dog owned by the late Professor Elizaburo Euna of Tokyo University. After she passed, Hachiko would visit the station daily for nearly 10 years, a trip that he had made daily when his owner was still alive.

The weather was temperate, a hot day but without humidity. Yet around me, people still dressed immaculately, often in full sleeves and jackets. A mother cycles past with her child sat in the front seat, and groceries in the back.

Yoyogi Park and Meiji Shrine

In Cherry Blossom season, thousands visit the park and shrine to enjoy ‘Hanami’ : the appreciation of the transient beauty of flowers. A deep reminder of impermanence. A few years ago, Chinese tourists were seen to be shaking the cherry blossoms to force the petals to fall for their selfies, perhaps defeating the point.

A lady walks her two pristine dogs. A man in full sleeves and trousers runs laps in the blazing heat, seemingly undeterred. A grandma coerces her cat (who is on a leash) onto the bench next to her. So much nature in one of the most densely packed cities in the world.

The whole environment feels like a constant reminder that ‘one is small’. Nature is considered a deity here. Objects have spirits, they’re alive. Japan is a deeply animist culture, and that translates to its reverence and attention to detail regarding ’things’.

Meiji shrine and gate was completed in the 1920’s but destroyed during the 2nd world war and rebuilt shortly after. Rebuilding and maintenance seemed central to the Japanese ethos.

The sounds of the city fade quickly as you pass through the towering Meiji Jingu gate. Walking through the centre of the gate is forbidden as this path is reserved for the deities. I see a little girl and her grandmother bow before walking through the gate, and bow once they leave.

We took part in the Shinto activity of offering to the temple/buying charms and writing wishes on an ’ema’ (wooden plate). I wrote a heartfelt note of wishes, a ritual of gratitude. Just writing those sentences gave a form of clarity, or at least made one think beyond themselves. The self was not as important as the other or nature or objects, or maybe there was no distinction at all.

Hibuya Park and Writing

Now in Hibuya Park at 5pm. Green is the dominant colour, interspersed with the bright pink of the flowers. A large pond infant with sleeping bent over willow trees swaying gently in the wind.

The purpose of ritual is a call of attention. To deeply bring your focus and whole being to whatever act one is performing. It’s a practice. William James wrote that the ‘quality of your attention determines the quality of your life’. I see ritual everywhere here, from the customary bowing before the looming Tory gates, to the daily ‘arigato goziamasu’, to the design of objects, preparation of food, presentation of self. Buying a gift of matcha for a friend, an unexpectedly large amount of time went into wrapping the gift. When buying stationary at Itoya, the cashier went to the trouble of individually taping the lid of each pen I had bought to prevent it from opening.

The Dalai Lama said that when he would lecture in the West and the East, the audience would be rapt with attention when it came to the topic of philosophy in the West, and switch off when talking about rituals. On the other hand, they would pay deep attention when talking about ritual and switch off when tackling philosophy.

That afternoon, I walked around the Ginza shopping district and bought gifts for various people . In an introverted culture, no-one bothers you in shops.

Travel

The best way to travel is to walk and get lost. You chance upon gems that are seemingly uninspiring to locals, but as a foreigners with a fresh set of eyes, the seemingly mundane comes alive. Avoid the ’tourist’ spots.

A late night walk. A middle age couple walk by with the woman laughing at the man’s jokes. A fire truck passes, the alarm bleeding at a lower pitch than one is used to. Men in suits cramp themselves into the room and collectively inhale smoke. 8pm, a Maserati car store is open as a young woman in a pristine suit sits at the reception desk. Inside a middle age salesman shows a young couple around the store. 9pm- salarymen trickle out of a bank, likely looking for a place to stop off for a drink.

Writing

Writing focused on the external world is a salve to the internal. Excessive focus on ones own story and thoughts can lead to ‘fruitless introspection and spiralling’. An excessive importance of the self is suffering, and so when writing I much prefer to use it as ‘observation’ rather than ’theorising’.

Memories and experiences fade so quickly, so one needs to write them down before they are lost. Writing is thus an act of observation. Similar to photography and videography, however writing captures the unseen. The intention to look has to be there, otherwise you don’t really see.

Sat in a Starbucks by Shinjuku. Saturday morning. Two Japanese ladies (impeccably dressed again at 7.30am) stand outside what appears to be a cinema, both looking down at their phones. The cinema opens after roughly 10 minutes and the two ladies ascend up an elevator. A salaryman enters the Starbucks and sets it up.

The role of travel is about as much as exploring the internal world as exploring the external. It’s meditation in motion. The two are one and the same really, the internal and external are just divisions. Your mental model of the world and the world. Each new experience whilst travelling adds new facets and cracks into your models allowing light to seep in and melting old calcified views.

You meet other people here, locals and tourists and each interaction reveals more about how one interacts in different situations. It is self knowledge. A never-ending process. A comfort with uncertainty. Letting go of your tightly held expectations, beliefs and plans (at least loosening the grip). Here is where ‘fear’ falls away.

A father cycles past with his daughter in the back. I think about how walkable Tokyo is, and how much I love this. Cars are faceless. People are not.

We left the hotel at 08:30am, after my daily Starbucks (and writing) and proceeded to Tokyo station. One member of the group left his phone behind in the hostel, our tour guide told him that we would wait for exactly 3 minutes. He literally counted 3 minutes to the dot, and left without him, a human Shinkansen train. Unfortunately, this member went back, ran back to Tokyo station, then realised he had now forgot his headphones and had to return to the hostel a second time. He took the next bullet train to Kanazawa.

The Shinkansen travelled at speeds of 150mph racing East towards Kanazawa, a 2 hour journey. The train has ample leg room with barely any jittering or motion whilst travelling. I had read that India had now implemented a ‘Shinkansen’ style train in collaboration with the Japanese. The countryside flew by in what felt like minutes. One interesting observation is that a lady dressed in uniform walked the carriages offering tea/coffee (as in most long haul train journeys). But before exiting and entering each carriage, she made sure to perform a bow and thank the collective.

I had in my mind that Kanazawa would be less ‘built’ up, but as soon as we arrived my expectations were broken. The train station is Kanazawa was a beautiful feat of architecture, and the area around the station consisted of tall buildings.

We stayed at a place called ‘Torifito’ hotel and pod, a capsule hotel.

Kanazawa

I sit outside the entrance to the Kanazawa national park, to sit, write and explore the events of the day before they fade into memory. This is one gift of writing, you remember events with much more clarity, and thus become a better storyteller.

The beauty of words is that you are left some nuance, you can colour a memory using your imagination in whatever way you see fit. A photo can have less nuance, and videos even less so.

There is a small temple at the entrance. A garden with trees tinted with burgundy and olive. An old Japanese man sweeps the floor of the garden and exclaims something to me in Japanese. I give back (probably) a confused look. He laughs and says ‘Frogguuu ! - green!" and walks deeper into the garden. The sounds of birds, rustling trees, bicycles and the rhythmic sweeping are intermixed with the sounds of the adjacent cars.

I love the design of the cars here, form fitted for the small roads. Design should fit the form. Excess should be eliminated.

In Kanazawa we explored ‘Omicho market’, a food market and had Pork Ramen for lunch. It reminded me of any other food marked, the various different smells textured the air - fresh fish, vegetables, flowers. Kanazawa is known for ‘gold’ themed items.

A trio of old Japanese women walk through the market with their arms interlinked. A japanese local politician dressed in a suit and a single white glove strides confidently through the market, greeting the various stall owners. He is trailed by a flock of young Japanese women dressed in white skirts, shirts and smiles.

A large American tour groups walks through the market with their headphones in, led by a Japanese tour guide with a flag and microphone.

Photos and videos often leave little to the imagination, whereas words rely solely upon it.

Tour vs Solo?

This is the first time I’ve gone on a ‘solo trip’ with a ‘group of solo travellers’. I really enjoyed it, and would do it again. It was lovely to share a meal with the same people each night, and discover what everyone had been getting up to.

This seemed like a ‘solo group trip to me’. We were given a short introduction to an area, maybe a 2 hour walk and talk, explaining the history and relevance of the area.

I think about what I gain from solo travel. A solo trip allow one to figure out what you enjoy doing alone. For me, strolling, writing, people watching and enjoying silent conversations between myself and the world.

The sun shines on the olive green water as Koi fish rthymically surface their heads creating transient ripples that fade as they themselves disappear under the surface.

I stroll Kanazawa Castle gardens in the late afternoon. Two young Japanese girls brandishing DSLR’s look for opportune moments to capture the falling petals.

Outside, a lady dressed in bright pink is ferried in a small box sized car with her white gloved hand extended out of the window waving at passerby’s. The other lady in the truck exclaims ‘arigato gosaimasu’ from her megaphone.

The rooms at the capsule hotel were immaculate as expected.

Experiencing is complete, whereas words are a facsimile of it; a finger pointing to the moon. Any description of the castle gardens at night will be insufficient, but I will try. The entire gardens were tinged with a cacophony of varying colours, as a faint melody was played through hidden speakers. Although I had seen the gardens during the day, they take on a different character at night. Seeing at night time focuses the eyes, as it removed the superfluous. All the details that the light brings are removed, thus leaving only a subset that one brings their whole sensory attention to. Removal adds.

A young Japanese family stroll through the gardens, the little girl holding her mothers hand, while the boy runs ahead. They talk in hushed whispers.

We ruin the silence, talking about nothing much, intruding on the ever silent trees and flowers; a typical tourist group.

Sunday 23rd Kanazawa : I visit the Oyama shrine in the early morning. As I walk towards the shrine through the narrow streets, birds chirp as elderly Japanese tend to their gardens. The sound of a nearby stream fills the air.

There is a single cherry blossom within the temple. I walk around Starbucks in hand, adding to the old vs new dichotomy. A few tourists (me included) saunter around periodically taking their iPhones out to capture a still of the ever fading moment. Part of the beauty of flowers and blossoms is that they fade. ‘Mono no aware’ : the impermanence of things generates a complex conglomeration of feelings. A subtle or gentle sadness, but deep appreciation of the transient of things. It is precisely because they end that they have deep meaning.

I click more photos, and pause. What are we doing with the massive amounts of data we are capturing. So many selfies/photos. The sheer quantity and low barrier to entry means that we can keep on amassing. But it’s scarcity that gives things value, a reduction. I put my camera away and walk the remainder of the gardens in silence.

What we pay attention to becomes illuminated. Light falling on the trees unfolds the green hue into a million differing shades of olive.

DT Suzuki Museum

It is 4pm and I’m sat at the DT Suzuki Zen museum. A light wind is felt creating faint ripples and vanishing glittering staircases in the water in front of me. A young Japanese couple walk by as the boyfriend takes pictures of his sweetheart. The silence is broken by the faint siren of a distant ambulance, which slowly fades to be replaced by the sound of flowing water. A few others walk by, all cautious of intruding on the silence.

Now within the central building, sunlight streams in through three of the four entrances. The warm glow of the sun undulates periodically throwing the building into darkness. Around me, a japanese couple, a solitary man, a young man (Dutch I would later find out) with his camera. The trickle of sunlight falls on my lower back, providing sufficient warmth in the cool sun. The young Japanese girl rests her head on her boyfriend next to her, as an older Japanese couple walk by keeping a healthy distance. I wish I would capture this moment by camera I think. But then the moment fades, and with it the thought.

The young Japanese couple leave after a few minutes, and a few minutes later are replaced by another couple sitting in the exact same spot. The boy dressed in all black while his sweetheart wears a bright floral Summer dress. They leave and the room returns into empty silence.

I take out my camera only to return it to my bag. Perhaps this moment doesn’t need to be captured. On theme, another young couple walk by, this time dressed in a traditional Kimono and Obi, the light casting beautiful patterns on the fabric. I see the Kimono wearing couple taking pictures of each other. This moment will not come again, and they return to gaze into each others eyes.

Two young Japanese girls sit on the bench next to me, breaking he silence with quiet giggles. A man comes up and asks me to take a picture of him, handing me a Ricoh GRiii. I comment on the camera (one of the greats) and take a picture for him. We drift into conversation as two strangers who meet in a foreign country often do. I learn he is from Denmark, and is spending the next 30 days travelling alone in Japan. We exchange favourite food spots, itinerary and then go our seperate ways.

After the DT Suzuki museum, I leave going to a ramen shop called Ippudo taking a quiet seat in the corner. The restaurant is empty. In the group, I normally eat dinner together, but whilst eating lunch I think, it would be nice to share this. Then I realise, I am sharing this, with myself, a memory for the future.

Tea Ceremony

An elderly Japanese lady with short hair greeted us and exclaimed ‘Ceremony?’. We nodded pointing to the 2nd option of the laminated sheet she handed us. ‘Booking yes? 11pm, you go come back!’.

We returned after a short while and were seated as our hostess made the final preparations. She darted around the room with a surprising level of dexterity for her age, turning on the stove, preparing the pots and pans, and shutting the panels arounds.

After a few minutes she ushered us into a 4x4 boxed room and closed all the panels. Tea ceremonies are traditionally done in silence. In the.centre of the room was a bed of hot coals on which she gracefully placed a large pot of water, allowing it slowly to come to a boil. We sat in silence, on cushions above the ground (likely for our Western sensibilities) as she continued her preparations. She would occasionally open a panel and disappear, returning promptly with some other equipment needed for the ceremony. As she continued her ablutions, cleaning the wooden spatula with a delicate attention, she returned with a small plate containing 3 japanese sweets. On their right, there was a doughy sweet filled with red bean paste with a wooden stick to eat it with. On the left a small black biscuit and brown ginger biscuit.

She smiled, and said we could talk. ‘Camera ok’ she said as she began the ‘formal tea ceremony, mixing the hot water with copious amounts of matcha to create a thick green paste. One by one she handed us a bowl containing this. This was the best matcha I’ve had. I could feel the gentle steady caffeinated state effuse my consciousness as I alternated between the bitter match and the sweet biscuits. The whole ceremony lasted 30 minutes.

At the end, she pulled out her iPhone and started using Google translate to provide some information on the tea ceremony. She officially declared the tea ceremony over and thanked us as I deposited my 3500 yen.

We go to experiences wanting an authentic experience (whatever that means). A tea ceremony done 2000 years ago is clearly not the same. Cultures shift and change. People adapt. Clinging to the past and dogma is the end of ritual. We should accept that rituals change with the time, but come never to forget the intention of the ritual. To bring more presence to the moment, to envoke gratitude and to allow grief or whatever emotion that arises take its natural course. Rituals are a powerful way of changing state. They are ultimately habits.

Just before we left, our sweet hostess exclaimed ‘doggu’ pulling out her iPhone and pointed to pictures of her small white dog.