I'd rather be in Japan. More than most things, this one is true right now.
I want to ride the shinkansen, blasting through neon cities while drinking bottled green tea. Shooting through the lush green countryside while eating local bentos in cute novelty boxes. I ache for unadon.
It's the rainy season in Japan right now. That means sultry days with humidity such that a fish could breath air. Barrages of rain bullets pound all into submission. The local Lawson is selling onigiri for only 50 yen each. A single coin takes me from Izumo to Hirata. I purposely get lost on the Tokyo train system just to see where it takes me.
I love pushing through the noren at a tiny hole-in-the-wall sobaya, sitting down, and staring back at everyone staring at me. They make awkward attempts to greet me in English, but give up when I order in Japanese. The cool soba is refreshing on a hot day; it's also half the price and twice the quality of what you can get in America. Infinitely better than what I had on the plane.
Vending machines remind me of the infinite possibilities of life: Will I drink Boss Coffee, C.C. Lemon, one of eight kinds of green tea, or beer? How about cigarettes? That's odd; none of the machines have food in them...
From the burning sun to frigid department store air; from pristine mountains to a maze of skyscrapers; There's something magical about finding a little shrine surrounded by rice paddies out in the country, and then finding another one, almost identical, squeezed between two buildings near downtown Shibuya.
I'd rather be in Japan.