Oyasuminasai, Nippon October 24, 2007
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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.
Kyoto October 20, 2007
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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.
Getting there October 10, 2007
Posted by gurfheffalump in japan.3 comments
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.
Why the Blog. January 30, 2007
Posted by gurfheffalump in Being Home.2 comments
I originally wrote the blog with one goal in mind: to have it somehow encourage others to travel.
I wrote the blog because I have always loved traveling and what it does to people. It opens eyes and as Mark Twain says, “travel is fatal to prejudice.” Those are some of the many effects of travel and what it does. It takes away the fear of the unknown and replaces it with respect, understanding, and an insatiable curiosity for the world. We don’t just live in a city, or state, or in a box, we all live on the planet Earth, and we, especially young Americans, have an obligation to it as Citizens of the World.
Hopefully, my blog has contributed the push. It’s fine if my blog was only a
form reality show like the Truman Show for you; if it provided laughs I’m
happy. Maybe you sat in your cubicle sipping your coffee while reading my blog when there was downtime at work. That’s great. But my hope, and my reason for writing in the first place, is to bring the fruits of travel to others and inspire those who want to travel to take the plunge. Whether directly or indirectly, I hope my traveling has inspired someone to go on their own travels, on trips further and grander than my own, or maybe just a one week trip to somewhere you normally wouldn’t take a vacation to. And maybe to those who are undecided about taking a trip, my blog will add that little push to help you take off. Maybe 20 years from now, someone’s child will want to go on a long trip and because his or her parent followed along with my blog the request won’t seem so crazy and they’ll understand a little more. It could be that one night someone will be surfing the web and stumbles upon this website and it inspired them to go on a trip of their own. Whatever the reason for reading, if my blog inspires someone to travel now or 20 years from now, it has served it’s purpose. I truly believe this world will be a better place if everyone spent a little more time outside their own borders. This journey has truly been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life.
Sharks Also Need Constant Motion January 28, 2007
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“Coming home meant coming down. It was easier to stay up. I’d return home to piles of bills and an empty refrigerator. Buying groceries, I’d get lost- too many aisles, too many choices; cool mist blowing over fresh fruit; paper or plastic; cash back in return? I’d wanted emotion but couldn’t find it here, so I settled for motion.
Out at night, weaving through traffic, looking for trouble, I’d lose myself in crowds. Gaggles of girls with fruit-colored drinks talked about face products and film production. I’d see their lips move, look at their snapshot smiles and highlighted hair. I didn’t know what to say.
The more I was away, the worse it got. I’d come back and couldn’t speak the language. Out there the pain was palpable, you breathed it in the air. Back here, no one talked about life and death. No one seemed to understand. I’d go to movies, see friends, but after a couple days I’d catch myself reading plane schedules, looking for something, someplace to go…”
-Anderson Cooper
I had been meaning to buy his book for a while now, but today the book found me at the right time with the right passage. The passage above speaks to me so loud and clear I can feel every emotion the author feels and I’m sure he has felt the raw struggle I am going through now. And it’s funny how I still do a double take every time they ask, “Cash Back?” It’s so fucking bizarre.
Today I was scanning the web and reading about travel as I usually do. I find myself going back to travel sites because reading about travel budgeting, guesthouses, airline companies and the daily ins and outs of travel generates this half-smiling nostalgia that in some sick way acts like a support group during this transitional (euphemism for “extremely unproductive”) time in my life. Then I started reading about the upcoming travels of others and thinking about what my next step should be (going to school/getting a job/etc.) and that’s when it happened. I had some sort of attack, a panic attack maybe. At first it just felt extremely hot, so I took off my sweater, not thinking anything of it except it was just really hot, but soon I felt like I was overheating and had to drench my face in the icy water from the sink, over and over. Then my breathing became irregular and it felt as if the air had thinned because I was having trouble getting enough air into my lungs yet I instinctively cupped my hands together like it was a brown bag, trying to breathe the same air I was exhaling. It was a fucking anxiety attack. If you threw that song from Kill Bill’s soundtrack on, it would have been perfect. In the middle of this irregular breathing, I got into my car and drove off, tunnel visioned and without my full-functioning senses, ending up at the place I usually go to when I’m somewhere other than at home, the bookstore. I don’t know why I headed to the bookstore but I think I treat it as an oracle when I’m in need of answers because it seems my answer has to lie within the mountains of text somewhere.
I entered and naturally headed for the corner of the bookstore where the travel section was. I got a stool and planted myself in front of the travel writing section and I just stared while taking long hard breaths… the title of one book would come into focus and then another one, and then another one, and I just sat there until I probably read all the titles of the books in the travel section before I finally opened one and read the short story that I flipped to. Ironically, the story was about coming home from a long journey and feeling the emotions that brought me to the bookstore in the first place, except I don’t think the author had a panic attack or anything so dramatic, but I still felt his words.
Reading words by other travelers is therapy. It’s always been a type of therapy when I’m lost or unsure of things. Many times I feel like having the vagabonding mindset or a traveler’s soul means you feel like there’s a disconnect between your own values and goals and that of everyone else around you, and sometimes that’s a lonely place to be. Reading the words of others who ‘gets it’ during those lost or unsure moments helps me reaffirm that I’m not alone in this and I’m not crazy. There have been others before me and there will always be others who ‘gets it.’
