My last days here
I'm leaving in a few hours to go to the airport, so I guess it's only fitting that I post one last entry about my last few days here.
Mike and I went out to Namba on Saturday. We visited a store called "Don Quixote," which was honestly the most bizarre amalgamation of craziness that I think I have seen so far. On the first floor: t-shirts, sweatshirts, Japan memorabilia, and some titillating novelty hilarity . Pillows shaped like breasts, anyone? On the second floor: bath products? On the third floor: shoes and stuffed animals? I mean, among every other possible thing. And brace yourself: a ferris wheel that goes up and over the whole store. How could we NOT ride it?
View of Osaka from Don Quixote ferris wheel:
I read that Osaka was almost totally demolished during World War II, and the ugliness of the city is tribute to how quickly and practically it was rebuilt.
We mostly just wandered together for the afternoon. Here are some other shots of Osaka billboards during the daytime. They are at the height of modesty then. The seizure-inducing lights come on at night.
Hey! Mike Store!
The bizarre or mangled English shirts are always so tempting to buy. Mysteriously enough, they are also extremely expensive. I loved one shirt that said "the sun does not know it is a star" but for 5000 yen ($50!) it just wasn't worth it.
Yesterday was my last full day here. It was the most beautiful day, clear and warm. We rode our bikes to the Kishiwada park (the one place in Japan that I could show Mike around); there were laughing children running around everywhere and people walking their dogs. It was the perfect Sunday afternoon in Kishiwada. I showed Mike my favorite part of the park, which is a quiet area with benches. We read our books together there for a long time.
My favorite place, and Mike reading:
Sunset:
Since this is my "travel blog," I wonder whether I am allowed to write any of my overall impressions and feelings about this place. Or should I only write to explain the pictures I've taken?
A compromise: I will write a little here that will be mostly personal impressions. If you don't want to read it, or if this turns out to be poor travel blog etiquette, then please ignore this section. I will try to make it short and painless, friends.
The most frequent feeling is also the most difficult to describe. I felt as though I were totally insulated from my old life, which was at first frightening, and then indescribably relieving. The feeling of insulation can only be attributed to the peculiar strangeness of living here. So many things were disorientingly strange at first: crazy flashing billboards, people wearing surgical masks on the train, menus all in Japanese, bizarre cartoons everywhere. But there was a funny quality to the strangeness. The kindness of the people here, among other things that remained unchanged from the US to Japan, was enough to keep it from ever being overwhelming. Now I associate some of the strangeness of Japan with the most unexpected impression, which is "comforting."
Mike and I went out to Namba on Saturday. We visited a store called "Don Quixote," which was honestly the most bizarre amalgamation of craziness that I think I have seen so far. On the first floor: t-shirts, sweatshirts, Japan memorabilia, and some titillating novelty hilarity . Pillows shaped like breasts, anyone? On the second floor: bath products? On the third floor: shoes and stuffed animals? I mean, among every other possible thing. And brace yourself: a ferris wheel that goes up and over the whole store. How could we NOT ride it?
View of Osaka from Don Quixote ferris wheel:
I read that Osaka was almost totally demolished during World War II, and the ugliness of the city is tribute to how quickly and practically it was rebuilt.
We mostly just wandered together for the afternoon. Here are some other shots of Osaka billboards during the daytime. They are at the height of modesty then. The seizure-inducing lights come on at night.
Hey! Mike Store!
The bizarre or mangled English shirts are always so tempting to buy. Mysteriously enough, they are also extremely expensive. I loved one shirt that said "the sun does not know it is a star" but for 5000 yen ($50!) it just wasn't worth it.
Yesterday was my last full day here. It was the most beautiful day, clear and warm. We rode our bikes to the Kishiwada park (the one place in Japan that I could show Mike around); there were laughing children running around everywhere and people walking their dogs. It was the perfect Sunday afternoon in Kishiwada. I showed Mike my favorite part of the park, which is a quiet area with benches. We read our books together there for a long time.
My favorite place, and Mike reading:
Sunset:
Since this is my "travel blog," I wonder whether I am allowed to write any of my overall impressions and feelings about this place. Or should I only write to explain the pictures I've taken?
A compromise: I will write a little here that will be mostly personal impressions. If you don't want to read it, or if this turns out to be poor travel blog etiquette, then please ignore this section. I will try to make it short and painless, friends.
The most frequent feeling is also the most difficult to describe. I felt as though I were totally insulated from my old life, which was at first frightening, and then indescribably relieving. The feeling of insulation can only be attributed to the peculiar strangeness of living here. So many things were disorientingly strange at first: crazy flashing billboards, people wearing surgical masks on the train, menus all in Japanese, bizarre cartoons everywhere. But there was a funny quality to the strangeness. The kindness of the people here, among other things that remained unchanged from the US to Japan, was enough to keep it from ever being overwhelming. Now I associate some of the strangeness of Japan with the most unexpected impression, which is "comforting."