I arrived in Tokyo in a daze. Getting to the train and getting my ticket were easy (mainly because the people at the Japan Rail desk helped me), but once I stepped off they train, I was in a whole new world. People flew, no swarmed, past me as I wandered trying to find the transfer to my next line. I stood in a cloud of doubt on the rush hour crowded train, before disembarking at my stop. Hoping for signs for the correct exit, I got lucky and found myself at street level, immersed in a crisp night air filled with neon light energy and more swarms.

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Why do we bring back souvenirs from vacations for people? A few sleepless nights before departing for Japan, I was running through a list of people it would be polite of me to bring back gifts for, and I thought how silly of a notion this is. Given the root of the word, French for “to remember,” it makes no sense to bring back gifts of remembrance from places that other people did not go to, and thus have no memories of. My apartment is filled with artwork, trinkets and tchotchkes from all over the world, but only the ones that I bought for myself carry real memories and thus higher value. Sure, it is cool that I have three iron stirrups from different countries in South America, but having never been to those places, they are merely objects taking up space in an already crammed room.

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I view my trip to Japan as my white road adventure, much like Gary Erickson of Clif Bar had white road adventures biking through Europe. Of course, I don’t know if Japan has white roads and red roads (though given their flag, it would seem appropriate). In fact they might use all different colors for their roads. But what that analogy means is that travelling to Japan with only a vague image of a plan is my chance to step outside my comfort zone and grow as a person.

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You may think that the life of the self-selected unemployed is glamorous and relaxing, but in actuality it has its own types of stress. Take today, for example. I woke up on the early side of 8:30 and after showering and grabbing some toast and OJ, went to go run a few errands. Turns out today is Veterans’ Day, and so the bank was closed. That is one more errand I have to push off until Monday. I came back home and although I have a bunch of household chores hanging over my head, I decided to head out to read at a cafe for a bit. The whole time I was there, I felt like I needed to get back so I could get more things done before leaving on vacation. So I rushed back home, looked up the Goodwill donation center and made two trips to drop off clothes and an old computer. Finally, with a feeling of, well, goodwill in my heart, I decided to treat myself to a burrito, before coming back home to more chores.

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Like I promised in my TODO list of things to do while I’m an unemployed man, I have updated my blog to have active archive pages for months, categories, and tags. Check out the new working links. Yippee!

What a fun adventure going to the post office can be. I had to go to a counter agent, since the self-service machine doesn’t sell international stamps, so I got in line and watched as the fun began.

There was a guy two people in front of me who had a dog with him. When he was approached by a postal worker who told him dogs weren’t allowed, he barked about how he had had this problem before, that the dog was a service dog and he had the service tag on it. Now, this was not a seeing-eye dog, and the man was not blind. On a close inspection I was able to make out a silver dollar-sized medallion on the dog’s leash that must have been the service tag. Other than that, there is no way anyone would know this was a service dog, especially since the man had no discernible handicap, other than a bad attitude. After the postal worker went away, the man turned to the man in line behind him to tell him a joke: “You know how they slowed down the speed of light? They shot the beam through a post office.” Argh, great joke, man. Finally the guy was called up to the counter and was reminded by that postal worker that the dog was not allowed in the post office. He remarked that it is, because it is a service dog. The woman behind me snickered, having heard the previous banter about the dog. “Service for bad jokes, as far as I can tell,” I said.

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The more I browse through the travel guide, the more overwhelmed I become. The words blend together, and given no point of reference in the cities or the country as a whole, none of it makes sense to me. There are thousands of temples, tons of ryokan, countless onsen. How am I supposed to make rhyme or reason of all of this? And how I am supposed to find a place to stay? Finally, I pulled myself together and made two big decisions: call Kimi Ryokan and book a few nights to start off in Tokyo; purchase a 21-day Japan Rail Pass.

Done and done. I feel so much better now, but I’m beginning to remember why I haven’t travelled by myself before. I don’t like making arrangements.

After six years of seeing Frank Chu wander the streets of San Francisco, I finally, and unexpectedly, heard him speak. I had just assumed that he was a quiet protester, making his point larger than life by being a constant fixture in the city. I was quite taken aback when I heard him yelling outside of the Old Navy on Market Street. At first, I didn’t believe it was him speaking, but sure enough the loud gravely and angry voice came directly from his voice box. Or maybe it was the voice box implanted in him by aliens. Who knows?

I am a very lucky guy. My girlfriend is training to be a certified massage therapist, and last night she needed a body to practice on. Ever the supportive boyfriend, I graciously volunteered and found myself in a classroom, stripped to my underwear, with people practicing massage around me. The interesting part of this experience is that I had never considered what goes into a massage and training to be a masseuse. The teacher was talking about moves and combinations and finishes. It struck me as very similar to the teaching of a martial art (I know, because I took a few weeks of Tae Kwon Do sophomore year of college). The craft of massage is really about balance and energy and power, much like TKD, the main difference being that I would not be as relaxed after sparing with a black belt.

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Things to do in my spare time (in no particular order):

1. Work on my blog. In particular the archive pages need to be created. That is the top priority. Also the who/why/how pages need content.
2. Make travel arrangements for Japan. I have a flight, but now I need some train tickets and an initial hotel reservation. Some more idea of what I might want to do would be good as well. Which brings me to TODO #3:
3. Read. I want to finish Blink, read through my Japan guidebook, reread Anthony Bourdain’s depiction of Japan in A Cook’s Tour, read Vagabonding, and find more books to read.
4. Clean up my apartment.

That seems like a good enough list for now.