We're taking the airport limousine bus from Narita Airport into Tokyo. I'm dying to sleep a little to add some substance to the thinly sliced airplane dozing. I can't sleep now though because so many memories keep slipping into my conciousness. The years since we left this country seem to have evaporated. I remember cramming 8 or so English teachers into Frank's small apartment in Umegaoka, just outside of Tokyo. It was a pretty regular event and there would be no space to actually move. We called it Frankieland because Frank is one of those people who has 'host' imprinted on their DNA. Now Frank is married to Kaoru who also has this gene. Their children are going to throw amazing parties. Anyway, one of those nights in Frankieland we found ourselves trying to remember what the world outside of Japan was like. It had been a while for all present. A few of us, myself included, were about to leave Japan and I remember saying "Believe it or not, one day soon it will be Japan that feels like a dream." I was right but now I'm slipping right back into that dream.

I remember how the rice fields, bamboo groves and temples around Narita start to give way to concrete and neon. Tokyo seems grey at first glance. Grey and a little dingy. It's when you look a little deeper that you find the graceful moments and true beauty of this country. I'm so glad to be back in another part of the world that feels like home.

Narita Airport, 4º Celsius. We search for our friends' phone number and remember it's in a message on my web-based email account. We ask, but the only internet kiosks are in the departure terminal. Shimpai nai (no worries), we can plug in our own computer to the payphones and dial up a local server. I laugh in one of those moments where my situation has entered a completely different dimension; from cockatoos singing to each other in the bush to a half-centimeter outlet that connects us to the world's information autobahn.

We make it to Frank and Kaoru's place in Tama city, about 45 minutes outside of Tokyo. The last time we saw them was last summer at their wedding in Canada. Now we're discussing our ceremony. The shrine and all the preparations are their wedding gift to us. We are speechless. And we have a rehearsal at the jinja (Shinto shrine) in an hour!

Fudaten jinja is in Chofu, a 20-minute train ride from Tama city. We walk into a large courtyard with plum trees, large stone sculptures and white lanterns attached to the old wooden buildings. We meet the priest and his assistant, go through the details (our names and pronunciations, the sequence of events, etc.) and then take a brief walk-through of the ceremony.

Our mission was to find a restaurant for dinner after the ceremony. After poking our heads into a few and taking our shoes off in a few more, we chose an izakaya (a japanese drinking/eating pub where you pay for a set course) that has nomihodai (all you can drink in 2 hours). It's a bargain at 4500 yen ( ~$60 CAD) per person.

We decided to eat dinner before going back to Frank and Kaoru's place and went to a family restaurant called Jonathan's. It's a chain of family restaurants and there was one in our old hometown when we lived here 4 years ago. I guess it's fun because now I'm just a spectator. I kept looking for the men with white gloves that push people onto the trains. They try to squish as many people as possible into those sardine can railcars.

Kaoru has asked her kimono sensei (instructor) to dress us for our big day. My kimono has been borrowed from Kaoru's mother, Geoff's from Kaoru's grandfather, now passed away. It is an honor for us to wear their beautiful garments. The main challenge and call for expertise is the obi (belt). There is an undergarment that has its own sash, the kimono, also with sash, and the obi, which is about 5 feet long with various little pillows to be stuffed inside it. Fold, tie, tuck, wrap, secure. Perhaps too secure- I am having a little trouble taking deep breaths but don't mention it because the part that would make a difference is underneath all of the other layers of handiwork. Geoff and I don our tabi (split-toed socks) and geta (slippers) and we're ready to go.

Today we headed to Yorii to spend some more time with the Shimizus. Yorii is a small town about an hour and a half northeast of Tokyo on the train. Geoff and I have both spent some time teaching English in Yorii about five years ago; we are eager to visit our old hangouts. The Shimizus, our Japanese 'parents' were our students at that time. Since then they have done lots of traveling and their English has improved quite a lot.

We have dinner at a beautiful, traditional-style restaurant we never knew existed. The meal consisted of about 7 courses, all delicately presented and decadent.

Our breakfast was huge, and laid out, Japanese-style on a beautiful tray in neat little packages. The rice, miso soup, vegetables, fish, tofu and egg mixed with juice, yogurt drink, tea and coffee gurgle in our bellies.

We spend the rest of the morning at the Shimizu's house looking at their wedding photos. Mr. Shimizu enjoyed how we kept our ceremony simple; he is not interested in the huge expense and show of modern weddings. They comment that this is the first time in about 30 years that they have looked through their wedding photos. I like that we have brought that to them. I think anniversaries are a good time to look at old photos and remind each other about all the good things from then up to the present.

The Shimizus have booked a trip to Canada in June, before we told them we were travelling for a year, and we make plans for them to visit when we return. Hopefully not too far into the future we will have a guest bedroom for them to stay in.

Yugawara Onsen is about 2 hours from Frank and Kaoru's place by train. The weather has been amazing. It feels more like autumn than the middle of December and I catch glimpses of fruit laden trees as the train speeds through village after village.We see the sea and Fuji-sama, probably the most photographed and painted mountain in the world-I choose to leave it alone today. I love the way Japanese life is presented to me when I ride the train. I only get snapshots, little frozen moments for me to puzzle over. I see a lot of laundry drying and so many bicycles it's a wonder there are any cars. It's the people on their way somewhere that always get me though. All those souls hurrying towards some goal for the day, or just for the afternoon, that I'll never meet. I know that as I speed by I'm nothing but train-rattle to them; a sound that I know from experience has long since faded to background noise. I get this feeling often actually. It's a sense of awe at the number of individuals out there, all of whom have their own universe centered around them. It's humbling.

We walk from the station to the onsen instead of taking the bus. Frank and I patiently wait for the girls to finish in the pottery shop while we spend the time comparing our sense of direction with what we see around us. Even with the most unconventional some things still follow the stereotypes. There's a valley that curves from the sea up into the mountains and Frank and I guess it's the river we need to follow that carved that valley. In the end we're right and we make it to the onsen with a feeling of accomplishment and adventure. On the way we've eaten pounded rice, been stalked by curious police and explored a bamboo grove, always within a stone's throw of a convenience store.

As the host of the onsen guides us to the room I will us to keep moving past the Holiday Inn style doors to something more traditional. I'm not disapointed as the room is amazing. Tatami mat floors and rice paper sliding screens make a small space into a multilayered dream-pad. I almost make the mistake of wearing the hotel slippers into the room. Gaijin (foreigners) are doomed to make some mistakes no matter how hard they try. There are so many rules.

There's just enough time for a soak before dinner is served in our room. After dropping my yukata (kimono-like bath robe) I scrub and clean myself on the little wooden stool in the men's indoor bath area. I am extra conscious of cleaning myself before entering the bath as Westerners have a bad reputation for committing the ultimate sin of using the bath to clean themselves. After scrubbing a few layers down I put my little towel on my head and slip into the bath. I don't get as many stares as I remember from my experiences a few years ago but someone does say "Ohhh big big" when Frank and I first get naked. I think he was just spouting stereotype and actually probably trying to be polite. After a brief warm up inside we decide to head outside. The outdoor hot pool is designed so well I can imagine we're in the middle of nowhere. I have an amazing feeling of contentment as we head back for dinner.


The dinner is served course after beautiful course and everything is a piece of art. I particularly liked the raw squid-mouths served in a slight chili vinegar. I've stopped being amazed at what is presented to me. A traditonal soup called nabe is served in paper bowls cradled over a flame which burns for just the right amount of time to cook the delicacies inside. What a night.


In the morning as I sit in the outdoor pool I feel humbled again as I ponder the fact that people have been enjoying onsens from the hotsprings here in much the same way for a thousand years. As I think this a white crane careens through the trees overhead and disappears in the mist of the nearby waterfall. An incredibly good omen and almost too much for me. I love Japan.

The smell of chillies and garlic hits me like a wall as soon as I pass through Hong Kong immigration. It's like it doesn't have the right visa to pass through. We've left Japan for sure. The other thing I notice all around are the police and their guns. Smiley, helpful police who seem happy to give a couple of sweaty backpackers some directions. Other differences from Japan become apparent as we poke around a little. There's a little more chaos here and a lot less bowing.

I can't get a real feel for the treasures Hong Kong surely hides, three days just wont allow much hunting. As I dig around the ground pork in my 'Szechuan Tofu and Vegetable with rice' I can't help but feel that it might take a while to get used to this place. It's lodged in my mind as a stopover town but I know that I'm selling it short.