the last day.

On our last day we headed straight to Tsukiji market, for souvenir shopping. We had some nigiri donburi again (bowl of rice with raw fish on top) and headed back to the hotel to pack our stuff.

The day before this one, we had dinner at the matsuri festival, like I mentioned yesterday, but the weather was a bit unstable, as is common in Japan in July, and we did not have any umbrellas, despite having bought four umbrellas in total, throughout the whole trip (if you go to Japan, you’ll understand how easy it is to get an umbrella). Under heavy rain we stood in line to get food from a stall, Keoshi stayed behind while I asked for what we wanted, waited for my order for a few seconds and when I turned, there stood Keoshi, smiling, with an umbrella in his hand. Two salary men, both carrying one umbrella each, saw us and offered him an umbrella, saying that they were fine with just the one.

Now how awesome is that? Unfortunately, the umbrella didn’t fit in any of our luggage, and we couldn’t take it as hand luggage to the plane, so we had to leave it behind, hence the picture. This is the kind of thing that sends butterflies to my stomach when I think about all our adventures in Japan…

What I’m about to write next will sound idiotic and pathetic, but I’m gonna write it anyway, because after all, this is my space, and I’ve been idiotic and pathetic a thousand times before, so why stop now?

I was really weepy once we started to leave Tokyo in our shuttle. I knew that we wouldn’t go back as soon as we did the last time (less than a year after), I felt it deep in my soul that it would take a couple of years to go back… But I also knew, unwaveringly, that we will go back, and it was while crossing this bridge that you see in the last picture, facing Tokyo, that I knew, I felt it, that we would not go back alone.

Posts from Japan will now come to an end. Posts and photos aside, this was a wonderful journey. I would go back to this country again and again and again. I often read that Japan is a land of beautiful contrasts. However, it’s not just about the beauty, nor the things you see, it’s about how safe you feel, how deeply connected you feel to that beauty, to nature, to the people; It’s about unveiling the intricacies of that land, little by little, and knowing that you’ll never be able to truly find out how it all works out.

For me, it’s the feeling that, somehow, it’s part of me, without really, ever, belonging. And that’s okay. Because that’s Japan.

We will go back. And definitely not alone.