一人旅 (a solo journey)

While preparing to move to Japan, one of the things that made me nervous and a bit scared knowing that more than ever before in my life, I would be spending a lot of time alone. Throughout childhood, I shared a room with my sister, in college and after I never had less than a couple roommates. My first chance to live on my own would be in a foreign country where I had no friends and couldn’t understand my neighbor’s language. I knew I would be lonely. When I arrived in Sakata, as a way to postpone or ward off this anticipated loneliness, I immersed myself.

First priority was Japanese. Japanese has three writing systems, katakana, hiragana and kanji. Katakana and hiragana are two different ways of writing the same 58 sounds and kanji are the Chinese characters that no one ever stops struggling with. Out to dinner with some more experienced JET programme ALTs, they forced me to stumble through ordering the meal for everyone. Fired by a sense of inferiority, I learned katakana in one weekend. Soon, I knew as much more or more Japanese than those experience ALTs (not all of them) but I still felt a sense of inferiority. Japanese people are so good at speaking their mother tongue. The way the sounds grow and extend, how they naturally adjust their level of politeness, and their usage of very specific onomatopoeic “sense” words, everyday conversation sounds like poetic versus to my foreign ears. I wanted my words to roll out just like that.

With this lofty goal in mind at all times, I never turned down an invitation and surrounded myself with people at all times. Teaching yoga in exchange for okonomiyaki, going out drinking on a Sunday night before a long week of school, volunteering, climbing mountains, I was always busy. But I kept going, I couldn’t let a chance to learn a new expression, learn about a new spot in Sakata or feel a bit more accepted pass me by.

Something was missing though. A sense of myself. In my urgent rush to integrate, I put myself under so much pressure to absorb, adjust and grow, that I often had a difficult time enjoying my life or understanding what I was doing with it. I realized that no matter how many people you are surrounded by, loneliness can still creep up and wrap it’s cold arms around you, preventing you from being wrapped up in the warm arms of others. But slowly, after weeks, and after months, with the melting of the snow the grip of loneliness also seemed to melt away. I wasn’t so afraid of being alone on a Saturday night (or every night) and I got better at turning down invitations. I became more aware of how I wanted to spend my time and the people who were really my friends started to shine a bit more brightly. I was comfortable living a life in Japan and no longer felt like everyone was waiting for me to make a mistake.

When I wasn’t afraid of being alone anymore, the chance of it actually happening seemed impossible. I became more aware of what I was doing and why I was doing it, but that didn’t mean I got less busy. I enjoyed my time with others, but promises, visitors, appointments, obligations, thank you gifts and thank you gifts for thank you gifts left me feeling a bit overwhelmed. What I longed for now was solitude. Being alone didn’t equate with loneliness and negative feelings anymore, it now meant relaxation. An evening alone in my apartment was something I started to look forward to and work hard to schedule in when I could.

I’m not sure my new desire to hide from people is all and all a good thing, but there is a certain sense of accomplishment and power that comes from the realization that I am not afraid of being lonely anymore. I decided to take this new seed of confidence, put it in the nutrient rich environment of Hokkaido and let it blossom.

Hokkaido is the farthest north of the four Japanese islands and it’s known for its vastness. Vast stretches of sky, of roads, of preserved wilderness and as the only place in Japan where the indigenous “ainu” people can be found, its history. I’ve been wanting to go to Hokkaido since I came to Japan and I wanted to do exactly what I wanted to do there so I jumped on the chance to make it a solo journey. My plan was to eat the famous Sapporo ramen in Sapporo, hike active volcanoes that encircle the second deepest lake in Japan in Shikotsu ko and soak in the healing geothermic waters of Noboribetsu onsen. When you travel alone you can make your own perfect plan and then you can decide to stick to it or to change it without ever having to worry about what anyone else wants to do. I got quite bored after a few hours in Sapporo and after having the long awaited for Ramen, I skipped ahead to the lake.

Sapporo Nijo Market

RAMEN!

Before going on my trip, I asked a teacher from Hokkaido what he thought of Shikotsu ko. He said that there is nothing there, just a lake and mountains. In a country where no mountain summit is without a neon lit sports drink and corn soup selling vending machine, Shikotsu ko sounded like a dream come true. There did end up being a row of shops that sold ice cream and asahi super dry and swan shaped boat rides to the tourists who stopped by throughout the day, but the morning and evening felt like it was just me, the volcanoes and the lake.

I woke up early the first morning for a breakfast of toast, eggs, bacon, potatoes, and coffee. I’m pretty sure that was the first time I was ever served a breakfast like that in Japan. It was good fuel for climbing a mountain. I jumped on a rented bike from the youth hostel and pedaled out to the trailhead for “eniwa dake,” an active volcano that still smokes and smells of sulfur. The climb was characterized by the geometric formations of the leaning and falling tall thin white birch trees. From the bottom to the top, I saw a change in landscape four or five times. The leaves got smaller and coarser, the trees get thinner and shorter, the air gets cooler and quieter, the change is exciting and keeps pushing me to go up and up. The chorus of bugs and birds gets less and less harmonious, I hear a sample from here and there until it stops and then it’s just the wind, the leaves, my breath and my steps. In everyday life, at any second, how many sounds do you hear? Engines, dogs barking, sneezes, beeps and sqwaks, electricity flowing, but on top of the mountain, it’s just four sounds. And when you stop, and it’s quiet, sometimes it’s none. As I climb to the top, listening to my breathing, only thinking about each step, nothing worries me or stresses me out. My life is not defined by my job, or by clothes, or my interests or even my loved ones. It’s just cellular processes that create energy, just like every tree, cricket and earthworm that surround me.

from the hike up eniwa dake

from the hike up eniwa dake

Later that afternoon I recruited someone from my hostel to go canoeing with me on the Chitose river. The deep, cold, still waters of this ghostlike river form a mirror for the green trees and blue skies to admire their beauty in.

Chitose river

Chitose River

Dinner that night was grilled lamb and vegetables with my buddy, Taka. Taka was a 17 year old high school student from Alabama who grew up in the USA but was spending the summer helping out at my youth hostel. I had a good time chatting with him and when he told me I looked just like a teacher I made him share a bottle of wine with me.

I crashed at about 8pm again to early rise with the sun. I had one more chance to climb a mountain, so I passed by the “danger bears: do not enter” sign and searched for panoramic views of the lake while singing Amy Winehouse songs and shouting at the bears to stay away. I found the views, and there were no bears (that I know of).

from Monbetsu dake

from Monbetsu dake

Noboribetsu Onsen draws its bath waters from a swampland of sulfuric earth water packed full of minerals and things that make your skin feel slippery and soft. I gave myself a big present by booking a room in fancy schmancy Ryokan (a japaense style hot spring hotel with dinner and breakfast included). I cleansed with charcoal soaps, soaked in mineral rich white water, ate a dinner of fresh mountain vegetables, grilled scallops, rice and miso soup, cleansed and soaked til I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore, woke up, cleansed, soaked, then ate breakfast. I let all the soreness and tiredness from mountain climbing seep out of my body and into the white waters and let the cool breezes clear my head.

My fancy room

The fancy room for eating

My fancy outfit

The fancy breakfast

I spent the last day wondering around the boiling marshlands of Noboribetsu onsen and got excited by the chance to observe the earth’s secret underground chaotic hell.

Site of a hot waterfall and ashiyu (foot bath)

jigokudani (hell’s valley)

oyunuma (boiling water lake)

It’s not such a big place so I found myself with a lot of time to spare before taking the overnight ferry back to Sakata. What do you do when you’re alone and have a lot of time to spare? That’s when a good book and a cup of coffee can really be appreciated. The point of the Hokkaido trip was to hang out with myself and with my surroundings whether they were on top of a mountain, in a hot spring or with a slice of cheesecake and cup of coffee.

I made it back and felt accomplished that I spend four days with myself and enjoyed every minute of it. I didn’t get bored and I didn’t regret coming on my own, but at the same time I couldn’t wait to meet up with everyone and show them the pictures and tell them about my trip. Perhaps I realized that the ability to enjoy being alone comes when you know that when you start to itch for company, there will always be loved ones and good friends waiting to hear about everything.