Kyoto
A beautiful note to end on.
Olivia Dean’s album “The Art of Loving” became my unofficial soundtrack in Japan. My favorite song, “Loud” has one repetitive line,
“The silence is so loud.”
I played the album repeatedly as I meandered through Japanese streets. Its registers seemed to match my wonder and deep emotional reactions to the foreign landscape. The album is actually about falling in love and a break up, but art is in the eye of the beholder. For me, the concept of silence made its appearance during the final days of our trip.
My friends followed my trip via social media. The time difference allowed me to have extensive days before anyone woke up and by the time they did, I was gracious enough to let them know what Rochelle and I were up to. I felt like I was over sharing by day ten, but people kept asking me to post more so I did my best.
Kyoto is nothing short of stunning. If I’m lucky I will see more beautiful places in the world, but I know that is one of the most beautiful cities I will see in my lifetime. Kyoto felt unlike Tokyo or Osaka, despite its large amount of residents. The city was filled with hidden streets, streams, napping stray cats, and a river so beautiful, the first time I saw it I stopped in my tracks. Locals were sitting along the water’s edge, hugging, kissing, and showing affection. I thought the Japanese were conservative, but then I remembered human emotion is universal.
My favorite day of the entire trip happened in Kyoto on day ten. On our second day in the city, we traveled to Arashiyama to see the Bamboo forest. We rode a scenic train to the Hozugawa River, and then took a boat ride on that same river. Words cannot describe the peace that came over me in that boat, and the boatmen were strong and tan, their hard work evident on their muscles. Words like beautiful, stunning, and unreal are of great use here, but still they fail to articulate what I felt.
The boat ride was two hours. Rochelle turned to me and said the seat was uncomfortable, I told her we had 45 minutes left. I thought every minute was needed, she said it could be shorter. As we got off the boat the plan was to go to the forest, but somehow I learned that monkeys were nearby. I started chanting,
“Monkeys! Monkeys! Monkeys!”
Fun fact: monkeys are my third favorite animal. They might be bumped up to second soon, but I’m still considering it.1 I had to see them, so Rochelle indulged me…until she had to finish her shaved ice quickly. I pointed to the sign that said no food, she said you can go, and “I don’t even really like monkeys.” A twenty minute hike later, with sweat rolling down my sheer black top, I saw monkeys. Eeeeeek! Kyoto looked beautiful from up here, and a monkey passed by me. Then I saw a baby monkey and squealed. I loved them. My day was made. Beautiful scenery, stunning mountains, grooming monkeys, and a beautiful walk through the bamboo forest. We ate a yummy lunch, I had matcha soft serve, and we planned on getting a drink later with a Texan black woman named Angelica whom we met near the forest.
At lunch Rochelle checked in with me, she wanted to know how I liked traveling with her. I said it was good, no arguments, everyone was okay doing things on their own, alone time was readily available, and I was fine. She brought up the fact that she’s not as much of a talker as I am. I knew that, but it was okay, I didn’t want to force her to speak. But a few days later I did notice the amount of silence between us and because I recalled our earlier conversation, I asked myself why it made me uncomfortable. I’m an only child, I spend lots of time in silence, and thrive with alone time. Living alone is so nice, my plan is only to change that for a partner or children. It began to make me wonder if I was boring or not asking good enough questions.
Nothing was wrong, but I did feel slightly lonely. By day twelve, I was ready to return home. The city was still beautiful, the matcha still amazing, and Rochelle was still great to travel with. But maybe she was right, maybe I did want to talk more. I examined my discomfort and decided it didn’t need to be resolved. On one of our last nights I went to a record bar Reniya recommended to me, and Rochelle was supposed to come, but she was sleepy. I promised myself I would go anyway, so I did. I got in, and they told me due to the reservation changing I could only stay for an hour. Disappointment spread across my face, but then I thought an hour was better than nothing. I ordered chips, made a song request, and knew all the songs by heart. In Kyoto, knowing Lauryn Hill came in handy. After I ordered the third drink, my hour was up. The staff came to me and said I could stay as long as I wanted. I said,
“Ahh arigatou gozaimasu!”
I walked back to the hotel by memory while drunk. Going to a bar alone is not something to be proud of, but I felt accomplished.
On our last day we went to the Philosopher’s Path, perfect for all the thinking I was doing. I walked around a temple that quieted my conscience and inspired me to pray. We gathered our things, left Kyoto, and made our way back to Tokyo for our last night before we departed the next day. In our hotel room I asked Rochelle to debrief the last two weeks and mentioned some of the thoughts I had around silence. We talked openly, learned more about each other, and decided this was successful; we could travel together again.
I had one last matcha I didn’t post on social media (along with a decadent matcha dessert) and when we got through security Rochelle and I hugged and went in separate directions. It was October 10th. Cindy picked me up from SFO and Ron and Braxton came over later to get their souvenirs. After we got pizza and hung out, I excitedly went to bed, only to lie awake for many hours.
When four o’clock came around, I decided to take advantage of the time difference and make a call to New York City.
“Good morning, I’m moving in three weeks, can I get a quote for a cross country move?”
I got out of bed to look for a piece of paper.
For those who are on social media, you have to know that the recent story about an abandoned Japanese monkey named Punch devastated me. I couldn’t stop tearing up the first few times I saw the video. He’s doing better now!