一人の旅

Over this summer, I’ve done something that I haven’t been very used to – that is, traveling and exploring new places on my own. There’s many reasons for this: the first of which is that I don’t have a cell phone during my stay in Hakodate, severely limiting my ability to contact other people and coordinate group events. It was probably a good decision overall not to get a cell phone since it would have cost me a minimum of 20,000 yen over two months (funny that I’ll be spending the same amount on a night’s stay in a Kyoto ryokan, or traditional Japanese hotel, in about three weeks’ time). However, it still makes life difficult in the short term.

Secondly, unlike my previous summer in Cambridge, during which I had some of my best friends from Yale with me the entire time, this summer I didn’t have any really well-established friends going into the program besides Abby. I did make a lot of new friends, to be sure, but it’s hard to become best buddies with someone in a month, especially when you live in different host families. Plus, there are inevitably going to be people that you don’t like (ahem, my housemate, ahem). I’ve found that I’d much rather avoid people altogether than bear the presence of people that I dislike. Plus, all of us gaijin tend to cluster together, and really destroys the cultural experience, I think. Especially when you have guys wearing their baseball caps backwards and talking English and laughing loudly walking down the streets of Sapporo – you just don’t fit in.

That’s why I’ve gone a quite a few expeditions by myself. At first I was understandably apprehensive, with the inevitable dejected feeling of a social outcast. There were people I really wanted to hang out with, but there was always some obstacle – whether it was other people who I really didn’t want to be with, or simply the fact that I couldn’t find them, period. It’s quite scary and a little sad when you’re standing at an intersection and start thinking: shit, am I supposed to go solo now? When you start walking, however, everything begins to feel different.

First feeling I get – I’m fitting in! Thanks to my pretty standard Asian 顔, as long as I’m not carry a map or grasping a camera in my hand, I blend right into the crowd. I feel like a part of the city, the place that I’m in, and I feel a connection with the people around me slowly forming. People even speak normal Japanese to me (of course when I open my mouth, they realize that I’m a foreigner and start going back to the usual routine of  「中国人？たいわん人？」). I also find myself observing everything around me more closely, and absorbing more details. Exciting new opportunities abound in unassuming places, and I can explore freely. I get to goof around, linger or rush to places however I like.

I spent a good chunk of my time in Sapporo exploring the city on my own, and I went to the big fireworks festival (花火大会) around the Hakodate Bay Area yesterday, alone. Walking along the shore, with all of the houses lit up, and truly, truly 素晴らしい fireworks lighting up the night sky, Hakodate yama with its dark green silhouette standing silently in the background, the ocean breezing caressing, and myriad people excitedly murmuring in their yukatas beside their loved ones, it’s easy to fall into a semi-meditative state, in which distractions don’t exist and all sensory information blends into one communal stream that washes over one’s brain and soaks it in sweet, sanguine fluid. Sorry I turned my bullshit machine on – please ignore the last part. :p

Yes, it looked something like this. Sorry for the lack of pictures - forgot my camera and couldn't have done a very good job anyway, probably :p

It is easier to think when there is nobody else to distract you. Not that I don’t appreciate company – I really wished my friends were there with me last night – but that walking alone gives you a different feeling that is unique and valuable in its own way. Of course sometimes you feel lonely, and you will undoubtedly want to relay all that you’ve gained through your one-man journey to your friends and family. That’s another way in which being alone can be valuable, I think – it really reminds you just how important your friends are to you. I never thought I’d be missing my friends so much after just two months’ time – as weird as this sounds, I can’t wait for school!

I’ll be emailing a lot of you soon too. I’m having a great time in Hakodate, and I hope all of my friends who read this blog are enjoying their summers too!