Flash forward about twenty years later, my main mode of transportation for the last 5 years has been a second-hand bicycle with a half broken basket and terrible brakes. Don’t get my started on the bell that should ring. Yet somehow I revel in the fact that I do not have a car, and never have.

There are a few reasons for this, of course. There is a proudness that comes with knowing that my carbon footprint is indeed rather small. There all the books I would have never read if I hadn’t taken a train or boat. The spectacular landscapes that can only be seen from cycling through narrow alleys or, walking under secluded bridges. But truth be told, the main reason why I am happy I don’t have a car is all the little stories that would have been forgotten if I had driven.

On Sunday, Toyama’s sky was a melancholy grey but that was negated by my gaudishly colourful ensemble coupled with an extravagantly bright orange umbrella. Yes, even the rain couldn’t rain on my parade. Gosh, I am a sucker for silly clichés!

I was on my way to meet my friends in Nyuzen, a tiny town in eastern Toyama famous for  watermelons. In fact so famous for watermelons, the city’s mascot is, well, a watermelon. I should add, a happy watermelon.

On this day, however, my trip would focus on flowers, not fruits. Nyuzen was having its annual Tulip Flower Road festival and I had cleared my schedule, weeks in advance, to ensure that I was free on this particular Sunday. Okay, I fibbed. I am usually free on most weekends. I digressed.

At 10:30am I hopped on the train, left my town, Namerikawa, famous for fire fly quids to venture into the land of the watermelons.

I stared out of the foggy window, occasionally wiping it to get a better view of the changing scenery. As the landscape from one sleepy town to another changed so did my music playlist. I began humming along to Dionne Warwick’s “Don’t Make Me Over” when I looked up and noticed, in the next cart, a young man holding on tightly to one of the railings. I kept staring at him wanting to know why he was holding on so tightly to it. I was almost willing him to give me an answer. Ironically, when Dionne Warwick sang the line “…just love me with all my flaws” he turned to reveal his disfigured face. It was clear he was blind. 

The rain beating outside now washed a deep sadness over me. I felt sorry for him. There he was alone, on the train, holding on tightly to the metal railing unable to see all the beauty that unfolded. I couldn’t imagine such loneliness, such isolation. The mere thought pained me. Then my playlist changed to Sade’s “By Your Side” and the train conductor announced we will soon be stopping at Nyuzen.

The train came to a halt, and Sade was singing:

When you’re lost and you’re alone and you cant get back again

I will find you  and I will bring you home

And if you want to cry

I am here to dry your eyes

And in no time, you’ll be fine

The doors automatically opened. The blind young man carefully stepped out of the train, and there waiting on the other side of the door was his grandfather who happily embraced his grandson.

Darkness, perceived loneliness

Jenson recommends: Take a trip, not using a car, and be humbled by the stories you witness.

- Jenson

My father has repeatedly said that I love drinking champagne on a beer’s man pocket. I will  readily admit that I enjoy the finer things in life (the really fine things), but then again, so does everyone, and like most people I live within a budget. I vehemently believe that being budget conscious should never mean having to compromise great service and a good night’s sleep. The following lists my seven favourite affordable accommodations in Kyoto, Japan.

1. Matsubaya Inn

For those wanting an authentic Japanese experience, the Matsubaya Inn, a mere 10 minute walk from Kyoto Station is the perfect refuge. Beautifully designed, this modern ryokan (traditional Japanese inn) offers a quiet escape in a charming setting. The staff were friendly and engaging, immediately welcoming me upon my arrival.

I stayed in the E-type  room and it was surprisingly large by Japanese standards. The room has tatami mats, which are made of rice straw, offering the  quintessential  Japanese experience. You easily dose off into a peaceful sleep as soon as you head rests on the comfortable futons.

As with all Japanese ryokans, you are provided with indoor slippers. The E-room can comfortably fit two persons with sufficient storage for those totting around large suitcases. The room contains an immaculately clean washroom. There is no shower in the E-type rooms, however, there is a pristine communal bath outside the room that is spotless.

Matsubaya Inn (Room Type A). Please note that I couldn’t find a picture of Room Type E, the one I stayed in. Photo courtesy of Matsubaya Inn.

Notes

Price: 4200 yen ($46US)/ person

Internet: Wifi available

Helpful hint: I thought that the map given  by the hotel was a little confusing  perhaps because I am inherently bad at reading maps. I recommend printing the directions from Kyoto Station on Google Maps. You can also go to the 2nd floor of Kyoto Station, proceed to the tourist information center and the staff will happily help you to your location.

2. 9 Hours

9 Hours is the personification of modern Japan. Innovative, unusual and inspiring seem to be the ideology behind this truly unique hotel. The capsules in this hotel mimic space pods and teleport guests into a seemingly different dimension.

In a country where space is limited, capsule hotels have redefined the hotel experience. My best friend from Trinidad and Tobago was in awe upon entering 9 Hours. The sleek design and monochromatic colours give guests an out of this world sleeping adventure. I have been to many capsule hotels in Japan but none comes close to the sophistication of 9 Hours.

Space is limited in this hotel. Large pieces of luggage are given to the cordial staff who keep it at the front desk since the lockers are tiny. The location is par none. Nestled in the heart of Kyoto City, it is in the center of many beautiful restaurants and bountiful shopping arcades.

9 Hours may not be for everyone, and perhaps not for long stays, but it certainly provides a distinctly Japanese experience. Six months have gone since my friend came to Japan and the novelty of this place remains one of her fondest memories.

Notes

Price: 5100 yen ($55 US)/ person

Internet: Available in the lobby

Helpful hint: If you are a light sleeper you may want to walk with ear plugs, or you can buy them at the front desk.

3. First Cabin

I love First Cabin! This hotel is stylish, modern and inexplicably original. When I first entered my first class cabin, I couldn’t believe how big it was. It had immediately surpassed my expectations. Fitted with a large plasma television, LAN internet, an alarm clock and other amenities needed for the busy traveler, First Cabin is a cut above the rest when it comes to budget accommodation proving the fact that quality does not have to be expensive nor compromised.

Japan is a country based on the honour system, and the cabins do not have doors, which surprises many tourists, but instead it has magnetized screens that you close and then escape into a calm retreat. There are draws with locks to safely put away your belongings if you wish to do so.  It should be noted that men’s cabins are separated from the women’s.

The location is perfect. Not far from the main bus and subway route and steps away from the Shijo Shopping Street, First Cabin is a classic example that sophistication can come at an affordable price.

I have since returned to First Cabin Karasuma and I am anxiously awaiting my next visit.

First Class Cabins. Photo courtesy of Plantec Associates.

Notes

Price: 3000 yen ($32US)/ person (I got a fantastic deal on Agoda.com)

Internet: Wifi available in the lobby and LAN available in the cabins.

Helpful hint: The hotel is very strict when it comes to checking out. For each hour after 10:00 a.m., you have to pay an additional 900 yen per hour.

4. Nishiyama Ryokan 

Nishiyama Ryokan is the definition of Japanese hospitality. A short walk away from Kyoto’s City Hall and the city’s downtown area, the Nishiyama Ryokan is the perfect place to unwind after a long day of sightseeing.

To ensure your have an authentically Japanese stay, Nishiyama provides all its guests with yukatas, or summer kimonos. The staff is more than happy to take photos of you and your family in its exquisite, well manicured zen garden.

One of its best features is its relaxing onsen, or hot spring. Onsening is an almost ritualistic pastime enjoyed by millions of Japanese every day. Once you get over the initial shock of being in the nude in front of strangers, you realise than onsening is more than a bath, it is a cathartic experience.

Nishiyama Ryokan has many activities within its premises for its guests. My best friend was introduced to the art of the Japanese tea ceremony and learned to make Japanese shaved ice, a popular summer treat. These little offerings are what make this ryokan truly special.

Our 8 tatami mat room was large and inviting finding the just right balance between traditional Japanese design and the comforts of modern amenities. Fitted with LAN internet, a welcomed refrigerator, a considerable closet (for the secret shopper that resides in all of us) and an adjoining  bath, the washitsu (Japanese styled room) is a lovely reminder that you are truly on vacation.

Nishiyama Ryokan entrance. Photo courtesy of Nishiyama Ryokan.

Notes

Price: 7000 yen ($75 US)/ person

Internet: Wifi available in the lobby and LAN available in the rooms.

Helpful hint: When making a reservation for a Japanese breakfast or dinner, you will have to inform the hotel the night before.

5. Capsule Ryokan Kyoto

Touted as the world’s first tatami capsule ryokan, Capsule Ryokan Kyoto is indeed just that. What makes it different from other capsule hotels is its homey embrace and, of course, the capsules are lined with tatami. The bilingual staff always make a conscious effort to know their guest which I loved.

The lobby is simple yet welcoming with an adjacent kitchenette and dining area for those wanting to cook their own meals. I stayed on the first floor and my capsule was on the top and frighteningly comfortable. The capsule was equipped with a small television, reading lights and a fan (which I didn’t need in winter). After a long day in Kyoto, I had a wonderful sleep in the world’s first tatami capsule.

My cabin, 105, at the Capsule Ryokan Kyoto. Photo by me.

Notes

Price: 3500yen ($38US)/ person

Internet: Wifi available in the rooms.

Helpful hint: Towels are not provided but you can rent a large towel for 70 yen and a small one for 30 yen.

6. The Kyoto Royal Park Hotel

Located in the heart of Kyoto’s elegant nightlife, The Kyoto Royal Park Hotel captures minimalist design with great warmth. The lobby feels eccentric, its quirkiness gives it a museum-like ambiance.  The concierge could have easily been from some of the best hotels in the world-knowledgeable, patient and kind.

The room was comfortably sized completed with everything a busy traveller or leisurely vacationer could ask for- a cozy bed to dive into, a small lounge area and view to just sit back and enjoy. The fixtures in the room in itself and darling pieces of art. The bathroom is stylish and spa-like having a much appreciated fogless mirror.

Apart its top notch staff, the hotel boasts a basement restaurant specializing in local ingredients and its pride and joy, Shinshinjo, an old and well respected bakery. When I was about to leave, I all I could think was, “That was a truly satisfying stay.”

The Kyoto Royal Park Hotel beautiful lobby. Photo courtesy of Japan Traveler Online.com

Notes

Price: 7000 yen ($75US)/ person (another great deal I got on Agoda.com)

Internet: Both wifi and LAN internet are available.

Helpful hints: I highly recommend getting the Kyoto City Bus All Day Pass for 500 yen. Not only will it save your money, the bus stops along many of Kyoto’s most famous sites.

7. K’s House Kyoto

I can honestly admit that I loathe hostels. I respect those who enjoy the backpacker lifestyle but it simply isn’t me. When I first came to Japan, I went on an autumnal trip with my friends we stayed at  K’s House and it could not have been more pleasant.

Once voted as the best hostel in Asia, K’s House is charming, quaint and simply delightful. The staff are always helpful when harried, the rooms are basic yet comfortable, the cafe is beautifully designed and food is delicious and cheap.

I stayed in a triple room but luckily for me, my friends  never actually slept there giving me free range and a peaceful night’s sleep.

K’s House is located about 10 minutes walk from Kyoto Station. For those yearning for the night life, K’s House is somewhat far but definitely walkable but then again, strolling in Kyoto is easily one of its charm.

K’s House Kyoto communal area. Photo courtesy of Hotels-World.com

Notes

Price: 3000 yen ($32US)/ person

Internet: Wifi available.

Helpful hint: If you want to discover Kyoto in a unique way, try renting a bicycle from the front desk.

Jenson recommends: Sharing your thoughts on your favourite accommodations in Kyoto. =)

- Jenson

In the photographs below, I humbly share some of the my favourite memories of 2012.

January

Two young monks walk across the sandy beach of Independence Bay as the sun sets in Sihanoukville, Cambodia.

I was chasing the sunset when I stumbled across this stunning image in Cambodia. It’s almost poetic that the waters part in quiet reverence as these two young monks silently walk across the sandy beach of Independence Bay, Sihanoukville.

February

Sunny Kaiyo, Namerikawa.

Blue winter skies are a rarity during Toyama’s usually long grey winters. This was one of the last times I would walk to Kaiyo High School. A couple months later it closed and joined with my current workplace. I have many fond memories here that would linger on for a lifetime.

March

Beautiful pagoda of Sensō-ji (金龍山浅草寺) Temple in Asakusa, Tokyo.

March represented of the one year anniversary of the devastating Tokohu Earthquake and Tsunami. Overwhelmed by the sadness that still echoed in the silence, I decided to take a quiet escape to Tokyo. It was first time I had seen the famed Sensoji Temple. It had been well worth the long wait. It has easily become one of my favourite places in Japan.

April

Under the Cherry Blooms Trees. Toyama City, Toyama, Japan.

My favourite picture of 2012. Spring in Japan means one word, hanami (花見) or cherry blossom viewing. After a long day at work, I walked almost the entire length of Matsukawa River in Toyama City with my friend. The beautiful ceiling of soft pink created a real life fairy tale I will never forget.

May

Somewhere in Kanazawa.

I met my friend, Sheila, and her twin sister, Brigid in Kanazawa, a charming city in Ishikawa. As I waited for them at the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art I decided to take a walk at one of the nearby side streets. I instantly became it overwhelmed . This was the place I had walked hand-in-hand with someone. On this day, I walked alone.

June

Beautiful roses.

I grew up with roses. They were ever present in my front yard and back yard, vases and every nook and cranny. My grandmother had the Midas Touch when it came to roses.

I was having my friends, Aisha, Avernel, Chante and Chuma for dinner and I thought what better way to complement these ladies than with equally beautiful roses.

I paid less that $5.75 US for all these roses and it been the best $5.75US I have  ever spent.

July

My best friend, Chantal, and I in Kyoto, Japan.

Even before July began, I knew my favourite picture would somehow involve my best friend, Chantal. She is the definition of a best friend- kind, brave, thoughtful and honest. She, and her eccentricities, made my year.

After soaking in at the onsen (hot spring) at the Nishiyama Ryokan (traditional Japanese house), we decided to take a leisurely stroll on Karasuma dori in beautiful Kyoto.

August

The stunning Mt. Tate (Tateyama) in my home, Toyama.

Mt. Tate, or more commonly known as Tateyama, is the irrefutable symbol of Toyama. It is one Japan’s most scared mountains, and rightfully so.  After struggling to make it to the top, and several times of almost quitting, I persevered and made it to its holy summit.

Making it to the top, listening to a monk draped in a humble orange robe, chant in a language I barely understand and offer me a cleansing sip of osake (Japanese rice wine) was well worth the pain.

September

My students taking part in tug-o-war at their sports festival.

Japan’s Sports Day are known as Sports Festivals. It is nothing short of an extravaganza. Students practice for months for this one day and it was spectacular.

This was my last Sports Days and it was perfect.

October

On my way to Odaiba using the Yurikamome train line.

The Yurikamome train line reminds me of the post modern Japan of my imagination. It is the personification of Japanese technology. This train, with no driver, runs on rubber wheels and snakes its way through towering skyscrapers and gives breathtaking views of the futuristic man made island of Odaiba.

November

A perfect fall day in Namerikawa.

I remember this clearly. It was the most perfect fall day Namerikawa had ever seen and it seemed everyone agreed with me. When I went on Facebook, all my friends living in Toyama had posted a picture.

December

The last day of the year at Kichijoji Park, Tokyo.

The last day of 2012 I decided to take a trip to Kichijoji in Tokyo.  This sunset was hauntingly beautiful. I love this picture because it wholly captures my year. The image is blurry but there is beauty to it. Much like 2012, it was not perfect but definitely left an impact.

Happy New Year, everyone! =)

Jenson recommends: Embracing 2013 and all the possibilities that come with it. I hope your year is filled with love, drenched in happiness and showered with many successes.

- Jenson

Have a look at: 2011- A Photo Blog

I stared, peering deeply into my own dark brown eyes and, I saw my grandmother. My sister had driven me to her grave which proudly overlooked the undulating green sugar plantations I had grown up with. I entered the cemetery, sat on the dirt ground, lit a single white candle and placed it on her grave. I began talking to my granny, telling her tales of my happy misadventures and all the things I still dreamed of doing. We laughed, she scolded me for my foul language as she always did and then we laughed again. She was ubiquitous. Her spirit embraced me. I was happy.

Time passed. I reluctantly told her it was time for me to go. I then lit another white candle and placed it on my grandfather’s bed, wishing him a good night’s sleep. I wiped my tears and told her I loved her. She whispered, “I love you too, my grandson. Now, let go.”

The day before my grandmother died she wanted to speak to with me. I told her, “I’m too busy granny. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tomorrow never came. It has been incontrovertibly the biggest regret of my life. I have unsuccessfully tried to will myself to change that day but I can’t. I never will be able to.

As I continued to gazed into my melancholy eyes, reminiscing about my oeuvre, I realized that I needed to gracefully let go of the past, finally free myself from all my regrets and embrace the truth I have lived.

For in the end only three things matter (a Buddhist saying)-

1. How gently you lived,

2. How genuinely you loved,

3. And, how gracefully you let go of things that we never meant for you.

Namerikawa’s winter sky.

Jenson recommends: Letting go of all your regrets, reveling in the happiness of your present and telling everyone you love that you do. Carpe diem.

*I love you mom, dad, Jenelle, all my family and friends. =)

- Jenson

Yesterday, a bruised November 12th sky bled, showering the tiny sea town of Namerikawa, Japan with its cold, seemingly continuous tears. Shivering, I  tucked my hands deeply into my pockets. I quietly walked the empty hallway to my class. I peered out of the frosted glass, gazed at the melancholy sky and softly whispered, “Winter is officially here.” The fallen  leaves that carpet the bitter ground reaffirms this.

The bell rings. My students nervously trickle into the large room. Today is their Show and Tell presentation. One by one they apprehensively stand in front of everyone, shyly revealing to the class a little about their favourite things.

Eleven o’clock, a little boy, whose name means River House, slowly walks to the podium. He bravely stands, unflinchingly pulls out an aged picture from his shirt pocket, clears his throat and starts.

He momentarily stares at the picture and then begins: “My favourite thing is this picture. It is a picture of my father and I. I have not seen him since I was a baby because my parents divorced. I miss him very much. It is my favourite thing because I love my father. I hope to see him again. This hope is my treasure.” He gently bows and then slowly walks back to his seat.

I begged my eyes to stop but it refused to listen. A noticeable film of tear wets my sad, dark eyes.

For little River House, time had stood still. The love he has for his father is unwavering, uncompromising. He lives in the purest hope that one day they will be reunited.

As a young man who lives in irrefutable hope, it is my sincerest wish is that little River House can one day meet his father, show and tell him how much he loves him. But more so, I want his father to show and tell his son who has been patiently waiting and quietly suffering, “I love you, son.”

Waiting. (This Photo was taken in December 2011 in Battambang, Cambodia).

Jenson recommends: Never give up hope.

- Jenson

Like every fairy tale, this young Maharaja from the stunning Caribbean islands of Trinidad and Tobago came across an evil villain, named Tateyama. The young prince who had always been able to successfully and skillfully conquer all of his battles was unable to defeat this Goliath.

The brave young prince, who had a heart of gold and a voice that even the angels envied, had a secret fear. He was unabashedly afraid of heights.

Two years prior, paralysed by overwhelming fear, the young Maharaja intent on climbing to the zenith of the Holy Mt. Tate conceded defeat, halfway on his quest to the peak, and vouched some day he will reach the top and claim a worthy victory.

And that is how the story began.

The young prince who had been nursing deep shame for more than 730 days had decided that on the eleventh day of August in the year of two thousand and ten, he shall for a final time try his best, putting aside his genuine fears, and climb Tateyama once more because he desperately wanted to see the famed Oyama Shrine and receive his blessings.

On the morning of his quest, the sky smile along with the young prince, showering him with brilliant golden rays of sunlight. The prince bowed his head ever so gently and thanked the heavens because knew this would be the day he would make it.

However, as he arrived at Murodo Plateau, with an altitude of 2,450 m (8,038 ft), a dark omen whisked its way across a now gloomy sky. Fog blurred the prince’s vision, chilly winds ached his tiny muscles; the peak of Tate seemed once again elusive.

The young prince cried in deep fear as he kept climbing not because he was scared this time but, because he didn’t want to be a failure to himself again.

After hours of slowly climbing, rock by rock, boulder by boulder, breath by breath, the young prince finally appeared, after what seemed like an eternity, through a thick cold mist, raised his hands in victory and with the the biggest smile that radiated from deep within his heart, he silently whispered to himself, “Thank God I’m here at last.” 

The young prince then patiently joined the queue of people waiting to receive their blessings from the monk at the Oyama Shrine at the peak of Tateyama, overlooking all of Toyama.

And, this is how a young prince became a king.

After more than two years, I, the young Maharaja, finally made it to the top of one of Japan’s Holy Mountains and I am so happy and proud of myself.

Mount Tate (or Tateyama 立山) which stands a towering 3,015 m (9,892 ft) is one of Japan’s “Three Holy Mountain’s” along with Mt. Fuji ( 富士山) and Mt. Haku (白山).  Calling its landscape magnificent is an terrible understatement. Tateyama is carpeted with lush green vegetation that seems to undulate as far as the eye can see. Sporadic outbursts of brightly coloured flowers of pleasant purples, warm yellows, blushing pinks and innocent whites make this spectacular landscape that more beautiful.

Tateyama’s truest beauty, however, is the hundreds of people who climb it every day during the hiking season and kindly wish every person a welcoming “Konnichiwa.” Struggling to meander your way to the peak and having elementary students and grandmothers and grandfathers utter an encouraging “Ganbarou” (Let’s do our best) fills your heart with much needed courage.

I always believe that each experience, each person, each seemingly trivial event has some impact, unknowingly or not, on our lives. It was this singular event that reminded me that our biggest fears are too often what we inflict upon ourselves.

Making it to the top, listening to a monk draped in a humble orange robe, chant in a language I barely understand and offer me a cleansing sip of osake was well worth the two year wait.

Beauitful, Mt. Tate, Toyama, Japan.

Jenson recommends: Regardless of whether you make it to the top or not, as long as you genuinely try your best is truly what really matter. Now go climb your Tateyama =)

.

Side note: This was  written on August 12, 2010. Yesterday, I climbed Tateyama once again, experiencing the same struggles I did when I first climbed four years ago and it was a pleasant remember that through determination and belief in ourselves, anything is possible.

First, I am never going to exercise at 10 p.m. again. Sure, my exercise routine may involve a not-so-strenuous ten minute jog in the same spot in my apartment proceeded by 150 rigourous push-ups. Okay, I fibbed. 100 push ups. Fine. 80 push ups! The point is, I made a concerted effort to turn my flab into fab. The end result was a cocktail of adrenaline and endorphin being pumped into every cell of my petite frame of a body leading to a not so surprising case of insomnia. After much thought and plenty of sheep counting, I have since decided to redirect my athletic prowess to an earlier time.

As I finally started to doze off, trapped in that dimension between sleep and consciousness, I started to smile, uncontrollably. As I reminisced about the unexpected highs and depressing lows of my life thus far,  that inescapable smile remained imprinted on my face. My initial thought was I had unknowingly gotten a stroke which resulted in that permanent grin. But, thankfully it wasn’t so.

I had always been someone who was fearful, no, terrified of growing older. With getting older I only saw the myopic side of aging. I always equated it somehow with unrealised dreams, saggy skin, lost of loved ones and the worst, erectile dysfunction.

But as I laid on my bed slowly moving into a peaceful dream, I kept repeatedly asking myself, “Why?” And, there was no justifiable answer. The more I thought, the more I became aware that I was truly happy with the person I have become at this older, wiser age than I have ever been in my entire life .

The most wonderful thing about growing older, making countless mistakes, having a plethora of rejections, experiencing all I have and doing all that I have done, is I have come to understand, but more so, appreciate the power of knowing to let go of the idea of who I  should be to fully embracing all that I can be. With that remarkable realization, I had never felt more comfortable with my adult self than I had at that moment.

In that simple lucid dream I had unexpectedly found the me I had been secretly searching for. With that epiphany found, I tightly hugged my pillow and fell into a happy sleep…with a smile, of course.

Jenson recommends: Somewhere in life’s unexpected journey take that step and let go of who you think you should be and truly embrace all that you can be. (n_n)

- Jenson

And then I saw it!…a devastatingly beautiful Japanese woman, with an unpretentious air of sophistication and elegance about her.

She suddenly stopped, I quietly observed, bent down ever so gracefully, and then picked up a piece of paper lying incongruously on the streets of Tokyo, placed it in a nearby bin, and kept on walking.

I was left aghast, more in awe as I contemplate further. I had never seen that: a woman, worthy of nothing less than having her divine beauty plastered on every billboard in every country in the world, would bend down, in the rain no less, to pick up an idle piece of paper.

I would go back and tell all who would hear what I had seen.

That simple act, I think, aptly characterises Japan. Perhaps, it is my naivete or unworldliness that would make such a big deal of a seemingly trivial act, and, in fact, that may well be the case.

I am from a country most people have never heard of. My only window to the world has, for the most part, been living vicariously through the pages of National Geographic, the images on the Discovery Channel, and tales from those privileged enough to explore.

The more I ponder, the more I know that I am right. There’s an unparallelled reverence to Japan—thousands of years of tradition that fuses almost seamlessly with an utterly modern and progressive society.

I have seen spectacular skyscrapers only to be nestled next to ancient shrines; gender-bending fashion at a train station with someone wearing a colourful kimono standing right behind; I have dined at a traditional Japanese restaurant, eaten sushi and tempura and next to it a Mc-Donald’s.

The contradictions are almost endless.

What is not a contradiction is its people. Disciplined, kind, honest, friendly are unworthy adjectives to describe the Japanese.

Every morning when I bike to work, I am greeted by old women who smile and say “Ohayo gozaimasu” (Good morning), children of all ages who blush and hail a gentle “Konnichiwa” (Hello), co-workers who almost always give me first preference to most things, whispering “Dozo” (Please), and everyone who simply bows in respect.

Japan is, in fact, unlike any place I have ever visited, and I am quite sure I ever will.

I never had any expectations of coming to Japan to work, much less live, but it happened.

The Japan Exchange and Teaching (Jet) Programme came to me; I didn’t go to it, only hearing of it a mere few months before applying.

It’s funny how life is when you really think about it. You never know who you are going to meet, where you are going to go, or what’s going to happen.

I guess the thrill of not knowing is what makes life so fascinating and well, so beautiful.

This experience, thus far, has been much more than learning about the Japanese culture. It’s about learning about people, and I have come to realise that everyone has a story to tell.

I now know of a girl who is of Cambodian and Vietnamese lineage, born in Thailand, but left there because of a war, and now calls herself an American. I am humbled by that.

I know of a guy from Harvard, Massachusetts, who climbed Mt Fuji with sandals, and the only thought to register in my mind was “Wow!”

A Babylonian, born in Iraq, whose family suffered through an oppressive regime, I can now call my friend.

I now know a British girl with the most extraordinarily beautiful blue eyes who thought me a new expression called “lovely tired.”

I now know a Kiwi who told me about her travels throughout Asia; a Scottish couple who shared their love story; an American who, without ever knowing me, showed me around Namerikawa on my first day in Toyama.

These are a few of many stories I have come to love and appreciate.

Quite frankly, I was scared coming here. I still am, honestly. Being here alone, not knowing the language, not having anyone from your country around you is terribly overwhelming.

The unfamiliar is terrifying. As much as I cherish those who I have met and what I have seen, I still long for my friends and family at times, eager to hear a “Trini” accent or a home-cooked meal only your mother can make.

But as I sit on my bed, computer on my lap, and I look out and see a kaleidoscope of fireworks dotting an already perfect sky, I can safely say I have made the right decision coming here.

The beautiful pagoda of Sensō-ji (金龍山浅草寺) Temple in Asakusa, Tokyo. Taken March 2012.

Jenson recommends: Never forgetting where it all started. =)

- Jenson

Side note: I wrote this article for the Trinidad and Tobago Guardian almost four years ago.Today marks the anniversary since I moved to Japan and it is remarkable how in spite of changing so much a lot of me and Japan have thankfully remained the same. =)

Adele had committed emotional plagiarism and had  purposely stolen the story of my life and made a haunting ballad that only I should be singing. I was rolling in the deep with anger because everyone could see how transparent I was. My thinly veiled pain was now unintentionally exposed. I was naked, being whip lashed by the winds of a sordid reality. My veneer was shattered.

Recently while conversing with a friend, I told him the story of the unexpected death of my grandmother. The phone rang one August evening, my mother picked up the telephone as she always did and started crying. Something was definitely wrong. Her screams were now stifling the visibility of her tears. I knew without asking that my grandmother had died.

It didn’t register with me until a few days later.

As is customary for a Trinidadian Presbyterian wake, friends, family and well-wishers came by and expressed their deepest condolences. I  robotically smiled and thanked everyone for coming.

Before that night’s service ended, my cousin started playing the piano, beautifully as she always did, everyone opened the hymn books and began singing the hymn“Where art thou?”

As I read the words, my vision became blurred. The tears I had suppressed so deeply were finally revealing themselves.  I tried to stop it, desperately tried but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

A few seconds later my tears stained the book and irony of the words, “Where art thou?” I stood there alone, crying. I was drowning in my own tears, gasping to be free from this terrible pain because the person I had loved most was gone. Forever gone. My granny had left me.

I was broken.

The end of a relationship is often times like a horrible death. The pain is unbearable, the hurt palpable and the sadness so consuming it leaves you feeble,  vulnerable and seemingly unrepairable. You are blinded by the different shades of grey that form the threads of your new reality.

It’s been almost five years since my grandmother died and I still miss her.  I sometimes want to  pick up of the telephone and dial her number but I remind myself no one will answer. It hurts, still stings but I have finally accepted that she is gone.

This morning I heard my Adele’s “Someone Like You”  yet again and it was the first time a wave of sadness didn’t sweep over me. As with my grandmother’s untimely death, it dawned on me that I had somehow come to terms with the truth and although it still hurts, I will be okay.

Adele performing “Someone Like You” at the 2011 BRIT Awards. Photo courtesy of Daily-Songs.com

- Jenson

Jenson recommends: Death and loss can sometimes be very difficult to truly come to terms with, but remember, we will one day be okay. =)

A couple years ago, I met an American girl at the Keio Plaza in Tokyo. Her face is now a blur and her name forgotten but over the years her passionate account of when she visited the Theater 360 at the National Museum of Nature and Science in Ueno, Tokyo always remained with me.

She said when the walked on the glass bridge and saw the evolution of life, she just stood there and cried because it was the most amazing thing she had ever seen. The happiness that pulsated through her body was transcending. I skeptically listened and told myself she probably has a degree in theater with a major in drama. I dismissed her yet somehow her vivid tale was tucked away deep in my memory perhaps because I secretly hoped that it was true.

This weekend almost two years after we accidentally met I finally decided to visit the Theater 360. It was a beautiful spring Sunday in Ueno. The air crisp and the sky was painted a magnificent blue. I entered the automated glass doors paid 600円 ($7US) and then proceeded to the queue of people waiting to enter the Theater 360. I perused the crowd, made up of parents and eager children, young couples and grandparents patiently holding their grandchildren’s hands and then myself, the cynic.

The usher made an announcement, silencing the room and then I cautiously entered the glass bridge, scanned the now blank beige room that in an instant it turned a blinding black. Then it began.

The 360 Theater came to life. In that very moment, I knew she was right.

For the first time my life, an elusive dream has somehow come true. I was flying. I truly was flying, over a tropical forest smiling at the world below, floating over an African safari, swimming freely into the depths of the beauty of the open sea. I was Peter Pan, the lost boy in Never Never Land. My skin no longer had wrinkles, I had no worries, the weight of the world was lifted off my feeble shoulders. I was once again that bright-eyed, inquisitive five year old who saw the world full of possibilities.

My eyes welled with tears as I smiled the purest smile I had ever smiled. I was overwhelmed with an unexplanable type of happiness. I quickly glimpsed the little boy next to me tightly holding his fathers hands shocked at what he was seeing, the couple in front occasionally kissed each other and I realised that everyone of us in this room had not a single thought except the unbelievable happiness that enveloped us.

In those fifteen minutes I felt as if I had finally found the utopia I had been searching for since my birth. It was the happiness of a first kiss, the euphoria of a first child, the unparalleled of happiness of the sincerest “I love you.”

It ended too quickly. The room morphed back into its original beige state. As I was about to leave, I turned back, looked at the now empty room and smiled, thankful that I had experienced the most amazing thing ever.

The National Museum of Nature and Science, Ueno, Tokyo, Photograph courtesy of Ajari.

Jenson recommends: Visit the National Museum of Nature and Science, and remember that buried deep within all of us is an innocent child who always sees the world full of limitless possibilities.

- Jenson