Jeffrey’s Journey

I felt compelled to write. Dave’s sleeping and I have a train to catch in the morning. This will be my last night in Japan.

If I described my time in Japan to anyone, they would probably get the wrong idea of what it truly was, because honestly, it wouldn’t sound like much. No sightseeing, no super crazy experiences (well, …), and no getting laid. But this experience in Japan meant more to me than what I can explain, partly because I wouldn’t be eloquent enough with words, but also because it is on the slightly personal side.

I also wouldn’t be able to express how thankful I am of Dave for his hospitality and brotherly love. The hospitality and kindness he has shown me, despite my farting, snoring, and intruding presence, is a kind of attitude and maturity I know I don’t have at this point in my life. When you meet a person with such a heart as his, it makes you realize just how much more there is to learn about being a better person. All I can say is: thanks Dave.

I remember when we got into Kyoto. We walked around trying to find a vacant hotel room for 5 hours but couldn’t. Finally, being tired beyond belief, we hit some bars and drank. When we were finished it was about 5am and we still didn’t have a place to lay our heads. As the sun was coming up, we spent a few hours huddled outside a McDonald’s until were discovered, then spent the rest of the day in the couches of a hotel lobby. In this mixture of delirium, intoxication, sleep deprivation, filth, and beginning to feel hung over, I felt as if everything I ever inhibited myself in life from, all the strings and walls I built around myself, were suddenly gone. It began to let go.

The things that mattered became important once again and it took an enema delivered by life in the form of a hellish night to make that clear. I guess you just had to be there, shot by shot, step by step, and cuddled in the fetal position on the concrete to have this start making any sort of real sense.

I’m in one of the nicest hotels in Kyoto with a great view of Kyoto, and I’m feeling contrairy emotions.

 I’m nalstalgic and happy but also a little sad.

 I think that this trip to Kyoto represented a trip where I needed to find some answers for myself and do some introspection on the way I am and where I’m headed. Sorry if anyone’s reading this, I got nothing else.

I’ve always known I would be back here. The pull has always been too strong to ignore.

Yesterday, I arrived in Osaka and made my way to a city called Kanazawa. I’m staying here with David, who’s been nice enough to let me stay for a while.

I’m sitting here, looking out of Dave’s balcony, asking myself why exactly have I always been so drawn to this place. Why it makes me do the things I do to get here.

My first trip here, I was 17 and wanted to see my girlfriend in Tokyo, against the wishes of my parents. When I finally saved up enough working at Sizzler’s (back then the min. wage was $4.75 I think), I booked a non-refundable ticket so my parents would have no choice but to let me go. This past year, I started out taking Japanese classes because of a girl I met in India, a Japanese girl who I couldn’t communicate with but was completely in love with. I’ll probably never see her again, but in the case I do, I wanted to be able to communicate with her, so now I’m in my second semester of Japanese. And now, at a point in my life when I’m so broke I look for quarters between the cushions of my family’s couches just to pay for the $2.00 parking fee at the community college I go to, I find myself in one of the most expensive countries in the world, absolutely broke, absolutely free, and absolutely happy.

But there are flashes of the reality that have me acknowledging my situation and I had one of those moments on my way to LAX. Thinking about the expenses, the margin of error I had in case something went wrong (with money, the language barrier, transportation, or David kicking me out when he finds me masturbating on his bed), and all the other elements a parent would use to try to convince their son to not go to Japan and ruin their life, I was wondering if I made the right decision to go. Then I started to wish I booked a ticket for Peru, where at least the ticket wasn’t so expensive, or Bangkok, where I could at least go to a few titty bars and live above the poverty line. But that was a fleeting moment lasting only a few minutes.

It’s the intoxicating mix of their women, their food, and their language that have me making these seemingly illogical decisions, decisions that lead to being completely drunk off life. And at the moment, I don’t wish to choose any other way.