I think it is a Japan hangover.
Ever have those awesome nights that you never want to end? Sometimes that happens with a trip too, you’ve probably been there before as well.
It has been over a month since I have been back from my two week Japan trip and I still cannot shake it. Is it a mini-trip depression? Likely. Do I need to get over it? Yes. Is there something I can do it about? Probably.
I miss the pace, the people, the culture which felt so foreign yet oddly comforting and familiar all at the same time. It did feel like I was on another planet but in a good way. So, to deal with the Japan blues, I might as well blog about it as I wait for the anti-inflammatory pills to kick in and tackle the bulging disc in my lower back.
I can still smell the blossoming sakura which created a wonderful pink veil to walk underneath in Yoyogi Park. The sakura celebrations, the joy, the sense of community there is still something I can say I have never experienced elsewhere.
Long morning walks watching Tokyo wake up as I strolled with my Boss espresso in a can feel like yesterday. Marvelling at the efficiency and courtesy on the transit systems, no matter which city were win.
The kindness and patience we experienced as we tried to find a mid-way point in communication, us with our minimal Japanese and the locals with their broken English. When all else failed, hand signs and smiles got you through.
A long rain-soaked walk in Nara, drenched to the bone, everything felt natural and fine. How often do you ever walk in the rain and not rush? As adults we scurry but as kids, we enjoyed it, that Nara rain reminded me of that joy.
A quiet three hour walk about the Zojoji Temple grounds and nearby cemetery which included quietly taking in a Buddhist ceremony. A sense of serenity of realizing, though a world away on foreign ground, in a country where I clearly was the outsider, I still felt at home.
Hiroshima stealing my heart. The Akihabara blowing my mind. Kyoto overwhelming with history. The time travel which was Koyasan and a night festival bathed in lantern glow. Shibuya Crossing, the finest example of what is so great about the Japanese, still is a vivid memory.
Have to shake these Japan blues.
I know I can always go back but you can never go back as if it was your first time.