First things first, we get coffee. Because I always have to be on my way to be fed or caffeinated when the inspiration hits.
Let’s start from the end: the end of a 10-day trip to Japan, my last day in Tokyo. Because as always, the reminiscing and reflections begin at the ending. Or at least, when the holiday is ending.
9.30am -
The sun-soaked streets of Ningyocho were quiet and still - the sort of peace you find in a mall on a weekday. Admittedly, there was a certain satisfaction in this peace knowing that you are at the time, free of the typical hours of labour. Weekday explorations do feel so devilishly naughty!
And I only just realised what a luxury this is after I’d started working.
As I navigated my way to Parklet Bakery with a lo-fi playlist blasting into one ear, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of Deja-vu. Despite being in a completely foreign neighbourhood and city, this act of getting coffee in the city felt so routine, so familiar - so mundane.
Cities - they are like little parallel universes, aren’t they? As different as cities can be, whether architecturally, culturally, or the nuances in lifestyles, there are certain rituals that just exist across these dimensions: the rituals for the city dwellers. And one of them (which also happens to be my favourite ritual) is getting coffee or getting some work done in a cafe. And cafes are such interesting spaces, no? They have become such a universal idea of a space that has manifested itself in so many different ways across different countries and places. Other than to satisfy my coffee cravings, I am always so curious to see how they have been modified to fit the local contexts.
Before long, I’d found my destination amongst the easy grids of Tokyo. Parklet - a bakery and cafe just behind Horidome Children’s Park. Again, I was hit with an instant familiarity when I opened the door to the whirring of a coffee machine, the sweet aroma of coffee, freshly baked breads (a counter to which I had trouble choosing, as always!), and a music playing in the background.
And it felt so good to relax, to actually sip my coffee from a proper mug while staring into space; to order myself that aesthetic and delicious bowl of yoghurt and granola that I would typically not order if it were not for the staff's recommendation. After 10 days of avidly tasting a variety of Japanese dishes, I started to ache for the taste of something familiar. Or maybe, after seeing and experiencing so much for the past week, I was looking for mundanity. I was looking for another experience of the city: one that is based on discovery rather than planned travel itineraries.
So, for my last day, all I had on my super ambitious agenda was this cafe (that I decided on just after I woke up) and a pizzeria I had wanted to try. Then, get delightfully lost in Nakameguro and Daikanyama. But mainly, I chose to give myself time - time to enjoy my food, the space, to watch as life goes by. To do whatever I wanted, go wherever I discovered until it was time to head to the airport.
In a day without a travel itinerary and some need to feel, I found a certain calm exploring Tokyo the way I used to in the other cities that I’d lived in before. Maybe this is what it means to savour life in new cities: ask yourself what truly excites and interests you, then letting the city reveal those parts of itself to you. Then, devoting time into that and simply basking in the moment. My last day was nothing like the Tokyo vlogs I had devoted much time to watching before the trip that were filled with a lot of food and sightseeing. Instead, it was beautifully ordinary. And as I am slowly learning, there is beauty in the ordinary. That I do not always have to feel some big spike of emotion to feel alive. It is the little details in the everyday that I am learning to appreciate - a nice plate, cooking lunch with my colleagues, catching up with friends, getting some alone time in a cafe, spending time with loved ones - that makes life worth living.
At midnight, the plane took off from Tokyo’s runway. With the lights of the city falling behind me, I felt only happy acceptance and gratitude for the breadth of experiences I had here, with all its highs and lows. And for all these moments that I will never be able to return to again that will continue to exist only in blissful memory.
As always, thank you for reading!
Sheryl
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