I have thoughts of starting a blog more than 15 years ago, but like many appealing ideas in my life, it did not surface to the top of my do-now list. Now that my list has shortened to a few recurrent domestic chores, starting a blog becomes more compelling.

As to the reason I am blogging, this is found in my introductory pages – about this blog and about myself (check these out if you have not already done so). Twiddling thumbs and fear of an atrophying brain due to prolonged lack of creative output are also good reasons for starting and maintaining a blog. 

There are many things to write about in a blog. Travel seems a popular topic. Most of us have travelled and probably have many stories to share. Stepping out to other parts of the world always heighten our senses to the surroundings, transforming fleeting observations of the mundane into insights that escape our daily lives.  

I shall start my first post with some impressions of my recent travel in Japan with my wife. Please note that this is not the place to find 12 top-rated tourist attractions in Japan, top 10 sushi restaurants in Tokyo, 15 places you must visit before you die, or how to get the best deals on Japanese hotels and ryokans, and other travel tips you can find on the Internet that make modern travel so convenient, albeit unadventurous.  

We started our holiday in Japan in mid-March 2019, hoping to enjoy the cool Spring air. Though I have travelled often in the past, I am still filled with anticipation the moment between belting up and the airplane being airborne. Not that I have a fear of flying, rather it is the sheer amazement of what is happening—that a huge mass of metal weighing more than 500 tonnes (about the weight of 100 African elephants) can be lifted from the ground so effortlessly.

Understanding the aerodynamic principle behind it still cannot take away the sense of magic it conjures. Imagine, just the mere difference in air pressure on top and below the wingspan as the plane rushes through still air is all it takes to carry us from one country to another! It is an illustration of asymmetry as a fundamental principle of nature (more of that next time). 

So, there we were, cooped up in a confined space for more than 6 hours before we set foot in Tokyo. The SQ in-flight entertainment on the afternoon of 13 March 2019 left much to be desired, so I spent some time reviewing our itinerary in Japan.

We planned to allocate just a day in Tokyo to settle down a bit before leaving for Kanazawa, hoping to catch the last days of the plum blossom season. From there, we would go to Kyoto, always a favourite, though I recently read that it is suffering from “overtourism”. We would be good tourists and spend more time at the outer fringes. Next stop would be Nagoya, though just as a place to bed in as the real objective was walking the Kiso valley nearby. Then we would shoot off to Sendai in the north to visit nearby Yamagata and Matsuhima Bay. In the last leg of the 16-day trip, we would return to Tokyo and make day trips to Mito and Hitachinaka.   

As you can see in the map above, the crisscross itinerary does not look like it came from the mind of a well-organised, efficient and rational holiday planner! This was because while browsing the Internet for places to visit, I thought I could try chasing the end of the plum blossom season as well as the beginning of the cherry blossom period while searching for scenic gardens, landscape and places to do some walking and climbing along routes covered by our Japan Rail (JR) pass.

We have been to Japan three times since 2012. Our fondness for it grows with each visit. It is cleaner than Singapore (dare I say), even though litter bins are rare even in crowded places. Do the Japanese stuff their pockets with personal litter or eat their onigiri with the wrappers?

Surely there must be some tourists and foreigners who are more carefree with their litter, especially when there are so few litter bins around! But even tiny scraps of litter is difficult to find on Japanese streets. Perhaps I need to go to some public mass event, like a concert in the park to observe if the place is still spotless after everyone leaves.

I also observed that the Japanese, from ordinary folks walking by to store assistants, are innately polite, courteous and helpful. Once, I approached a young lady who looked like an office worker to confirm the destination of a train we were taking at a busy platform. I figured there was a good chance that young people could understand English.

She was all smiles and said she would tell me to board when my train came. We went into the carriage together but were separated by the busy evening crowd. As I was counting the last few stops till we got off, she came from nowhere and reminded me to exit. A small kind gesture like that is like the flutter of butterfly wings that can change the world to a better place. 

Food is another reason people are attracted to Japan. I once read a magazine article while nibbling lunch that you cannot go wrong eating in Tokyo—everything you eat is good, or some claim like that. I find that to be mostly true.

In my recent trip, we did not follow any online reviews but pop into any restaurant when we needed food (we did that throughout our journey in Japan, not just in Tokyo) and we were not disappointed (except for one ramen stall in Ikebukuro).

I do not particularly fancy Japanese food – always sticking to safe choices like tempura and yakitori. However I found that I always look forward to mealtimes when travelling in Japan. It seems that everything they do, including cooking, they do it with such meticulous attention to details and adherence to high standards that the final result seldom fails.

Even the Chinese food cooked by them is good – I won’t be surprised that they inspect every grain of rice in their Yangzhou fried rice to make sure it is evenly coated with egg!

Of course, one of the main reasons we like to visit Japan is because there are many scenic places to enjoy walks or just sit and contemplate all day. The first time we went to Japan was in late autumn of 2012. We did not get enough of the serenity found in places like the Kyoyochi pond in Kyoto’s Ryoanji Temple. 

Even though that, like other temple gardens, are manicured landscapes, there was a certain unforced natural feel to it. There was no predictable sculptured fountain or neatly arranged bed of flowers bordered by brick planters like a typical western style garden. Instead, every tree, bush, stone, pebble and floating leaf was in its place as if Nature had ordered them. You peek through fuzzy portals framed by branches and twigs to marvel at scenes that could only be painted by an artist.

I learnt later that the Japanese called it wabi-sabi, the idea that beauty is found in imperfection, the transient, simplicity, and randomness. The flow of nature creates in its path beauty that we can observe, contemplate on and incorporate in our lives. Whatever the origin of the concept of wabi-sabi, the Daoist influence is very obvious.

I must confess that once the idea of wabi-sabi became part of my mental vocabulary, my repertoire of things beautiful expanded considerably!

Another aesthetic moment I treasured in my past travels in Japan was my first encounter with Mount Fuji. There were a few ways to approach Mount Fuji. For some reason I could not remember, we took a train to Mishima station and from there, a bus to Kwaguchiko lake, the spot where most people view the iconic mountain. After travelling in the bus for about half an hour, I realised that it wasn’t the scenic route I had in mind when we passed through roads lined on both sides with industrial buildings.   

Then, as I slumped in my seat from disappointment, the bus turned a corner, and the majestic snow-capped mountain loomed suddenly into view in the near distance. I was suddenly overwhelmed. From my angle in the bus, the top of Mount Fuji seemed almost a straight edge parallel to the horizon, smothered in bright white snow against the clear, cerulean blue sky.

It was mesmerising and it took me a long while before I remembered to whip out my camera to capture the moment of wonder. However, it was too late – the view disappeared, and for the rest of the journey, I had to contend with sneaking views of it behind industrial buildings and other obstructions.

So no picture—perhaps just as well as there are things that should just remain in our mind to be treasured for eternity. It was not until two days later that we had a proper view of Mount Fuji, though it was of a different face, but still enticing and mesmerising.

I realise this post is a long prelude and introduction. The thing is, once you recall some past memory, other associated nodes in the neuronal network tend to light up inevitably!

I will share more details on the journey proper in my next post.