Back From The Dead(ish) Just To Daydream About Japan

It’s been 4 months since I’ve written anything remotely coherent that isn’t degree-related. The closest I’ve gotten to doing so is my half-lucid journaling adventure [1] in a designated seat at the Hong Kong airport during my 13-hour-long wait for COVID-19 test results (longer than my flight from London to HKG!). It’s quite funny because I planned out this strict writing regime for my 14-day hotel quarantine that just did not happen. I envisioned my period of isolation to be a quiet retreat from the hustle and bustle of the real world; a time to sit in stillness and silence, to reflect and hear the calls of my innermost thoughts (yada yada). Unfortunately, exams called louder. Now here I am, back from the dead(ish), possessed by a sense of nostalgia so acute that I can’t help but try to seek solace in writing.

I used to spend many afternoons wandering semi-aimlessly around the heart of Sapporo. I say ‘semi-aimlessly’ because I’d always ended up gravitating towards several key landmarks. Odori park was one of them; though to be fair, as the one patch of green in a couple-mile radius, it was quite the temptation. The cluster of department stores above the JR station was another because I’m a basic gal who loves cute stationary (I have a weakness for Loft and Tokyu Hands). Tanukikoji was the third, with its abundance of Pachinko Parlors, drug stores [2], ramen stalls and a nearby Daiso. I’d also occasionally duck into Pole Town and do laps around the underground without stopping at any store. However, I am ashamed to admit that the amount of time I’ve spent in all those places combined pales in comparison to the long hours I’ve wasted rifling through manga and anime merch at anime/manga stores (and the occasional bookstore) [3]. I’d alternate between the Animate near Odori Park and the Mandarake in Norbesa which always took me ages to find despite the very conspicuous ferris wheel perched on top of the building. Though the memory of my visits blur together, there are a couple of standout moments that I remember very very clearly — like the first time I ever saw a body pillow. It was one of Haru from Free! and he was shirtless as per usual (it’s a swimming anime fyi). I almost bought it for a friend who was absolutely obsessed with the anime, but I could feel the judgemental looks weighing down on me from just staring at the item for more than a couple of seconds, so I didn’t. Another standout moment was buying my first ever Japanese manga: the first volume of Dengeki Daisy [4]. I made it a game to see whether or not I could manage to pass as Japanese during everyday interactions so I always got so nervous before speaking to staff. However, I felt exceptionally self-conscious when approaching the cashier this time, wondering whether or not the staff was going to call me out for buying something in Japanese when I couldn’t speak the language fluently. A silly thought, obviously; the cashier didn’t even bat an eye [5].

Therapeutic as they were, my routine solitary walks are not the key source of my current nostalgia. I miss roadtrips with my host family and idyllic field trips with new friends at school — but I’ll save these stories for another time.

To be frank, there is nothing poetic at all about my summer visits to Sapporo as a teenager; it reeks of the “spiritual emptiness” that drove Mishima towards committing Seppuku, but I had a great time nevertheless.

[1] Makes me think of the midnight scribbles I used to do when I couldn’t fall asleep at uni. I’d whip out my pencil and Winnie the Pooh notebook, and literally scribble down any half-baked/phantom thoughts that were plaguing my mind (which included single words such as “donut”, even though I don’t even like donuts). I’d make a game out of it the next morning, trying to make sense of my midnight madness.

[2] All perfectly legal of course, though Japan does sell some weird ass stuff in drugstores. I’ll write more about this another time.

[3] To be honest, I still have no clue why I spent so many hours there given that I’d almost always leave empty-handed.

[4] I actually bought two Light Novels before that incident (Uchiha Itachi).

[5] There was never any guaranteed explicit feedback which made it quite hard, but the occasional cashier would switch to English half-way through our interaction :(