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Hotwire.com was the cheapest place I could find tickets to Tokyo, Japan, this winter. Those Hotwire radio
commercials about being a cheapskate were funny, such as putting paper plates in the dish washer, and now I was that tightwad they were poking fun of. On October 28, 2003, I'll be
on American Airlines flights heading to Narita airport from Houston..
My only itinerary is to take the 250-yen Keisei rail to the town of Narita from the airport. There, I'll purchase
fuel for the camping stove, and then walk north. I have little interest in seeing the metropolitan cultures, but rather to
experience, walk, and live the culture foreigners do not see much of. Arriving in Japan, I'll only be armed with a
phrasebook and a map of the entire country.
One of the serious issues about the phrasebook that irked me still to this day is it didn't have the word "chopstick" in the quick lookup dictionary section, but only found in the dining section. Sure the dictionary has really useful words like "pregnant" and "venereal disease," but am I going to worry more about pregnancy in a country with a low birth rate or a pair of chopsticks on a daily basis? C'mon, any phrasebook involving an eastern Asian country should have the translation of chopstick easily apparent. Heck, they should embed the word chopstick on the front cover right underneath the title "Phrasebook." There are certain words and phrases travellers should be expected to know when they visit a foreign country. For example, someone visiting the USA should certainly know how to complement, "That's a huge gigantic monster of a car you drive," or to observe, "You just threw your trash out the car window!" or to question "Why is that man pointing a gun at us and asking for money?" Okay, that last part was meant as a joke! Although the USA has its share of baddies, nevertheless, it is a great and beautiful country. By the way, I only use chopsticks seldomly when store employees stuff it in the grocery bag, and most nights I used my versatile plastic spoon after cooking.
Twelve weeks backpacking in Japan, and I ended up walking an estimated 2000 kilometers (1250 miles) passing through
such cities as Hitachi, Sendai, Morioka, Hachinohe, Aomori, Akita, Sakata, Niigata, Joetsu, Nagano,
Takasaki, Tokyo, and Chiba. The only 2 times I didn't
walk was when I arrived in Japan and took the rail to Narita, and when the trip ended when I rode the rail from Narita
to the airport. There was no bus, taxi, rail, biking, or hitchhiking during the marathon walk.
Every night I slept in my tent or tentless under the stars. On my first night, I slept in a wooded area next to a 7-11 convenience store. Also convenient was the attendant allowed me to get water from store.
When I arrived in Japan, I didn't even know how to say "yes" or "no" in Japanese, didn't know a single person, and didn't have any idea who might be a celebrity. I knew very little about the country, but I had wit and wisdom and the sensibility to just make the best of the situation. There was no easy or inexpensive way to abandon the trip and return home. In total I spent $2000 during the 3 months ($730 of the $2000 was airfare alone), which was comparable to renting an apartment for $650/month for 3 months.
The only gear purchased in Japan was a pack cover ($20 US), versatile seam grip ($9), and 2 pairs of long underwear ($20 for both) in addition to the one brought.
About once a week, I would bathe in the public bath houses and wash laundry at the coin laundromats. Sometimes, I would wash my hair in public restrooms when no one was around. Of course, I would clean up after myself. In cold weather, washing was not urgent. The longest time without bathing was nearly 2 weeks.
I do plan on returning and discovering more of the country. Perhaps next time, I'll stay longer than the 90-day limit by taking the ferry to South Korea, get the passport stamped showing I've been away, and then returning to Japan.
Man, I slept under a lot of bridges and stealth camped in a variety of places!
The path across Japan will always be a very personal and rewarding experience, but unfortunately, I decided to no longer keep daily journals of my travels, however, a few days stood out from the others during the 3 month trek circling the main island of Honshu. Each of the following entries recapped those days after returning to the United States. I discovered that thinking about what to write while travelling only occupied my mind as if I needed to spend time doing something so I could write about it rather than enjoying the moment carefree: Sometimes, it felt as though I was travelling to write, and not travelling to enjoy just being someplace new.
The entire day down the western coast of Japan had been cold, windy, and rainy. The violent waves
smashing against the shoreline with the fury of a madman revealed the wearisome story. That night, I wasn't able to find a good stealth camp and camping along the coast was impossible due to the high winds and really no beach area. At some point
I just became too fatigued and the roads were too narrow to walk, and so I decided to sleep inside one of the bus stops in the small town of Atsumi. Many bus stops were crossed on this sojourn,
but I always hesitated at staying in one of these small shelters for a couple of reasons: 1) almost every night I cooked, and 2) I was a late riser, especially during frigid conditions, and somebody was bound to encounter me.
Another appropriate reason to stay indoors tonight was most of the gear was wet and this would give them a chance to dry, especially the tent. Wet gear is heavy gear.
In the morning, I had planned on leaving early before anyone caught me camping in a public bus facility. The schedule on the wall showed the earliest arrival was 7:00 am, so I needed to be up at least by 6:00 am and moving before 6:45 am, or at least I thought.
I generally don't sleep too well when I have to wake up much earlier than usual. I ended up only sleeping for a few hours before waking up at 5:30 am, which was a very good thing. A middle-aged woman opened up the door and dropped off bundles of newspapers. She only noticed me in the corner after she dropped off the last bundle. She was very startled. Needless to say, she's probably done this daily, but probably never expected anyone sleeping in the bus stop shelter. She started speaking loudly and appeared to be asking some questions which I had no understanding or answers. I thought she was asking, "What the hell are you doing here?" or "You shouldn't be sleeping in this bus stop!"
I was much too tired to think and the only thing I mustered was hello in Japanese before her rocketing questions: "Konichiwa." It was difficult initially to tell if she was upset or shocked. She quietly closed the wooden
sliding door and returned to her vehicle for about
a minute and I presumed she was leaving, but then the door opened again, and she reappeared with a can of vanilla coke and a muffin. I wasn't sure if she was dismayed earlier, but I was simply amazed beneath my fatigued morning appearance. Even though
I felt almost completely independent on this trip, her gift was a warm welcome to a cold and miserable night. The Japanese have not shown much hospitality to a foreign backpacker (and not that I expect them to), but at
that moment I was very grateful for her compassion. If nothing else, I knew the day had started off well.
As I headed out, the muffin fell to the ground as I removed the packaging. It took only a second to think about whether or not I should pick it up and eat it. Gladly I reacquainted myself with the edible gift, dusted off any dirt, and gobbled it down.
A homeless man invited to stay with him. It's probably the same all over the world: the people with the least often offer the most. Likely because the poor have little to lose. Originally, I was a little skeptical of someone, especially someone who makes his home in a park along a river, offering a place to stay. Not because his house might be questionable, but he may actually intend to steal from or con me, but it definitely didn't turn out that way; in fact, it was one of the most memorable nights in Japan. The humanitarian deeds of strangers can be very beautiful, powerful acts.
He even heated up some water on an open fire so I could wash my hair with warm water instead of cold water from the public restroom. Above
that, he even provided a towel which smelled clean. On my
part I cooked pork-stuffed banh bao (that's the Vietnamese term, I don't know the Japanese name) for it.
I stayed the night on the carpeted floor in his electricless cramped quarters, but being accustomed to sleeping in a tent nightly, cramped can be more than adequate. The wind howled restlessly through the night and finally
calmed in the chilly morning. (The previous night, my friend talked about the time the raging wind blew away his tarp home. Earlier in the trip, I pitched
my tent unstaked underneath an elevated railtrack and the wind grabbed it in its untouchable grip, and I chased the tent as it tumbleweeded across a harvested hay field while fearing that
I may not be able to catch up to it.)
In the morning, one of the neighbors visited, and the 3 of us chatted for a while. Strange why they live like this when they seemed able to function as normal folks. Well, my friend did talk a little to himself before sleeping last night. We communicated with broken grammar in the other's language and miming, but they were able to throw in a single word of English once in a while, and I would magically decipher the whole statement just hearing that one key word. For example, if someone says, "Name," then it's understood he was actually referring to, "What's your name?" What else could they be asking? When the neighbor said, "Down," I knew they were referring to the sleeping bag and if it kept me warm for the winter conditions.
I had really wanted to stay another night because walking across Tokyo, a city of 12.5 million people, seemed a daunting task, but I didn't ask. (Pitching my tent elsewhere along the river was possible.) I was sure he would have enjoyed for me to stay because last night, he refered to me as his "best friend" for lack of better wording.
My friend walked with me for about half a mile on a path along the river. (This whole area was a long park with security and plenty of visitors.) Having arrived at a decent good-bye point, I asked him to return home and tried desperately to get him to accept a 1000-yen note (about $9.00 US). I didn't offer it in exchange for his hospitality or friendship, I offered it in case he needed to buy anything. In Japan, Japanese homeless people do not accept money hungrily as they do in the United States. It took a couple of minutes and me forcing the money into his hands before he finally assented. He may have been worried for my financial situation since I acted the part of a budget traveller. I could see the water forming in his eyes.
We parted ways as he got on his bicycle and headed home. I suspect most people who come to the park pretend the homeless people were invisible even though the conspicuous makeshift houses lined the shores, but I don't blame them for turning a blind eye. They were seperate classes. Sometimes we stereotype people and not allow the chance to see the one flower among the weeds. I knew that well because I sensed the avoidance as though I was strickened with some uncurable disease when travelling with a backpack. The people who offered me a chance were amazed at my manners and understanding when they originally felt I was just a drifter.
There was absolutely no pretention or expectation of karma on my part when donating money to my new friend, but as I walked up the trail 2 minutes later, I found 3 bills clustered together: 10000, 5000, and 1000. (16000-yen was equivalent to about $140 US.) The money was sitting on the side of the trail in the bushes along with scattered trash, which was probably why they were not noticed sooner. Incredibly, I only had 1000 yens left and needed to find an ATM soon; however, now, I could make the rest of my stay in Japan without withdrawing any more money. Looking around, no one appeared to be searching for lost money. Of all the people who had barely any or no money around here, I felt extremely fortunate. The good one does really does return to them. Being the strange person I was, I decided to give 1000 of those yens away to needy people in the near future.
Touring a large metropolitan area was not on my agenda, and especially true of the largest city in Japan: Tokyo. The choices of stealth camps in a metropolis was very limited. In fact, as I approached the core city, I had little idea of how to camp, but I knew I would find a way although it may involve a lot of walking.
Some of the tunnels had cardboard homes. Although the Japanese government seemed tolerant of the people living in the tunnels as well as
along rivers and under highways, I've
read they dislike addressing the homeless issues and security guards disallow photographs of these situations. One reason I rejected staying in the tunnels was because of the foot traffic and the security
cameras. Not to mention, I appeared somewhat out of place with the backpack. But knowing that opportunity was there made me feel much better about sleeping tonight.
I passed a man and a woman collecting trash cardboard as though it was a premium. Around here, where homeless people make their homes from cardboard, I suppose it would have much practical value.
Passing through a university filled with security guards, I considered camping in a small patch of woods behind a bronze statue of some gentleman. That
would be truly courageous in a foolish manner. If security somehow noticed me, I could use the phrasebook to patch together a statment like, "Well, I didn't know
camping at the center of university grounds was inappropriate. Just because I have a tent doesn't mean I'm not touring the campus."
Fortunately, there was still plenty of daylight left to find an alternative.
Late in the evening, after passing
the tourist spot that sells tons of electronics, I came across a river. On one end, there was a bathroom
and across the street stood a police booth with about 3 men. Along the river would be an ideal spot to stay the night. When I saw cardboard and tarp homes, I knew this was one place
where the homeless congregated.
If there was an open spot, then I could stop here for the night. Very fortunately, there was a spot at the end of the walkway next to a flight of stairs. It was almost amazing no one claimed the sweet spot. Just further down at the end, one person had a home set up. Even better yet, the stairs were situated where it blocked most of the heavy wind that evening. This situation was beyond lucky- almost unbelievable! A father and his young son caught me setting up my tent, but they pretended indifference. Across the river beaconed some large neon signs of huge companies. Truly, the poor were bearable among the affluent.
Japan is well known for very moderate theft so I wasn't too worry about leaving the tent and gear unattended to explore the surrounding few miles. One area I wanted to revisit was the technological retail center which I had to pass earlier because I hadn't found a place to stop for the night. Another good thing about Japan were the free public restrooms (often clean).
Last night, after grocery shopping, I camped just outside of a small town not far from the highway. It was well dark even before arriving in town, and I made it to the other end of town immediately. Even though trudging through snow in running shoes can be painful, the one good thing about snow is it pads the thorny weeds making for a decent surface to set up the tent. However, I did have to be careful since melting snow might expose the thorns to the tent floor.
In the morning, the sounds of idling vehicles nearby provided the wake-up call. The snow was freefalling and wind gushing hard. Another morning, and I dreaded the misery of strapping on cold wet socks over cold wet shoes. Once I put on my shoes, I only had a few minutes before my feet would go numb if I didn't start walking. To make matters worse, I only had a pair of thin partially-damped liner gloves for my hands. (The gloves purchased at the 100-yen store were wet.) After gearing up everything possible inside the tent, I set out to break down the tent. Taking down the tent usually takes about 7 minutes, but within 3-4 minutes, my hands were almost completely numb, and I started getting frustrated. I often placed my dull hands to my mouth and blew precious warm air into them. A few minutes began to drag on forever. Rolling up a tent seemed to be such a simple task, but almost impossible this morning. At one point, I considered just giving up on the tent and just leaving it behind because it felt so hopeless. The tent was too important, and I couldn't give up- and I didn't give up. Taking one deep breath, I made the last efficient (as possible) and accurate attempt to roll up and then compress the tent inside its storage sack. Once that was finished, I still had to organize all the gear into the backpack.
I was so elated just to be moving and having my frozen hands inside my jacket pockets instead of exposed to the windy, biting air.
The additional weight of wet gear made the mountain climb ahead a tough morning. The road was slippery, as vehicles were waiting during some road construction. A large cargo truck had to back up at a turtle-pace against traffic to a point where it could get some traction because it just couldn't continue upwards after coming to a stop on an incline.
The wind was still blowing and my jacket was zipped up to the cheeks. For the rest of the day, I wouldn't see much except crossing a road which leads to a ski resort. And where were those ubiquitous vending machines when you need them? I must have walked nearly 10 miles before seeing some lights just off the road indicating a machine. Yes! I was hungry and hoping to chow down on a Snickers candy bar or gulp a soda or something.
As I approached the machines, I noticed they were housed under a tiny shack with an entrance way blocked by a small wall which doesn't allow anyone to see the machines from the front- like some public restroom entrances. Then it made sense why! It was 3 machines dispensing smutty magazines! One of them even dispensed a woman's joy-toy. "Great, I just walked all this cold freaking distance with all this extra water weight on my back, and looking forward to a snack- and I find porn!" Where were these machines when I was alone in some remote forest?
What's more important to a hungry man? Smut or food? Food or smut? Smut or food? (If I was 16 years old, then the answer would definitely be smut.) That's one of those questions which may never be answered in this universe's lifetime. I just laughed
at myself at how things turned out this day.
Moving forward, I managed to arrive at the border of a town with a welcome center with heated bathrooms and a couple of vending machines. Just past the welcome center lied a large patch of woods, and I knew that was the perfect stealth camp opportunity. At this point some of the road were exposed instead of being layered in snow.
Removing the tent from the storage sack, there was still snow on it from this blistering morning.
Since arriving in Japan, I've walked to the coast and stayed along the coast for a few days. This far south, the days can still be fairly warm. Entering Taiyo, I knew this town was large enough to have a public bathhouse. My first encounter with a Japanese man to ask for directions didn't turn out very well. He was an elderly man, likely retired, walking down to the shore to get in his exercise. By all appearances, he was in no hurry to get anywhere.
I approached him, bowing and saying hello in Japanese. Not knowing the proper words for bathhouse, I shook my hands above my head intending to mimic shampooing my hair. I don't think he understood. In fact I don't think he cared. Not giving up, I rubbed my hands on my body immitating rubbing soap over my body. Now, I knew he didn't care when he made a closing and opening motion with his fingers and thumbs inferring speech. And then he insultingly added, "Wa-roo-ee." From that moment, I will never forget that word: It means "bad," and he meant I had poor Japanese.
He walked to the nearby shore and as I glanced from my peripheral vision, I could see he reached his destination and started doing stretches. I've always known just because someone has reached old age, it does not automatically command respect- respect is always earned. Showing courtesy to the elderly is not the same as respect. But maybe I was at fault for not being familiar with all the customs.
Two young guys, one with brown hair, were cleaning up some heavy debris from the front of the building. Again, I tried communicating with them about a bathhouse with my hands, and one looked at the other and then they pointed me in a direction which took me away from the coast and towards the middle of town. I was fairly sure they knew what I was referring to. They instructed to walk up to the main intersection and take a left.
I was walking through some residential neighborhood having difficulties finding the bath house. Then luckily I ran into a lady who seemed to understand
what I was searching for. "Fu-ro." Knowing people will give a backpacker directions made me feel better and to put behind the encounter earlier with the man who
thought I spoke poorly.
The lady led me to the bathhouse not far from where we met. I've only heard about the bathhouses in Japan and knew little else about them- nothing about cost or ettiquette. She opened up the door and there was an old man in his clown suit ready to put on his clothes. They greeted each other as if they were well acquainted. I wondered if she normally saw him nude like this.
The man left me by myself with the elderly owner. She had a seat at the divider between the men and women's bathing area, where she was able to see everything. Okay, now I had to undress and bathe while she looked on. If I'm going to give a free show, I might as well make it a damn good one! Hopefully, I can do as well as the man who just left.
(The lady in the picture is an owner of a bathhouse, but not the one written about above.)
Let me tell you a story about how much misery a person can suffer. Imagine yourself dreary-eyed with every muscle in your body demanding to rest, and each time you started to close your eyes, you're suddenly woken up. Again and again. Reality becomes so unpleasant, yet salvation seems so distant.
The congestion of the large Japanese cities has finally engulfed me. After walking for over 12 hours, I had reached the junction of my mental and physical crashing points, that intangible place we can't pinpoint until we stumble upon it. I sat on the steps of a small building in the middle of the night wondering if I would ever find a place to sleep tonight. I never regretted coming to Japan, but these are the moments I had to hurtfully endure knowing full well the day would come when finding a suitable sleeping spot would be nearly impossible. We can always anticipate the pain, but when the pain comes, it makes even the strongest titans feel so small and weak. The benefit of the night was my tears were hidden by the darkness. Who could blame me for falling apart?
Feeling helpless wasn't going to improve the situation. I had to move on. I just know that when I reach my destination, wherever it might be, the weariness I suffered tonight will be as strong as the enthusiasm I'll savior tomorrow. Hope, as empty as it can be at times, will keep me going.
The obvious place to head was towards the coast of this large city. A stray dog had passed me never knowing how much we had in common: no one to turn to and searching for something, but not knowing where. Using the compass, I headed towards that unclear direction. I passed what I thought was an apartment building, but it wasn't a highrise apartment like in metropolitans, it was just a long building, and 2 men and woman were laughing somewhere nearby, sharing some joy I wish I could share in. I begrudged their cheerfulness and thinking if they would let me just sleep on their doorstep, I would be so grateful. Just any place I wouldn't scare anyone or the police wouldn't bother me.
Navigating through a some neighborhoods and business sections, I finally made it down to the coast in a roundabout way, but my disappointment deepened when it appeared there was no beach area and this had all been developed into docks. How many more wrong moves could I make today? Nevertheless, I followed the coastline hoping to find some hidden area to rest this woeful body. The only thing I found was a set of stairs that led down a pathway or tunnel. The lighted tunnel appeared to head out towards sea, but I couldn't make out exactly where it ended in the night.
Knowing full well that the tunnel probably did not lead to anyplace to sleep, I made the irrational decision to take the flight of stairs going down into the tunnels (it must have been an underwater walkway). Even though things haven't worked out so well tonight, I was afraid to lose this oppurtunity to see what might be at the end of the tunnel. At junctions, there were a set of stairs leading up to secured glass doors. The security cameras ensured this place was not likely a place to sleep, and surveillance must have wondered what I was doing alone here after midnight. I was wondering that myself. I walked about 200 yards deep into the tunnels before backtracking hoping the police wouldn't be greeting me back at the entrance, but there was still nobody around at the entrance.
The docks eventually ended, and the direction led back to the city core. Finding a stealthy place to sleep now worsened. Eventually, I ended up in a business district and there was some contruction stuff around. I thought I could hide myself within the stuff till morning, but decided I would only get a couple of hours of uneasy sleep on private property before having to wake up and move on. I kept walking up the road and it went underneath 2 bisecting highways forming a capital A. I climbed the shoulder-high wall to end up in the middle of crossing highways. I was so desperate, I considered just resting in the small area of grass at the highway intersection figuring if I laid low, no one would discover me if drivers weren't paying attention, but people would definitely see me coming up the road.
So I kept moving with mounting frustration. I walked. And I walked. And I walked. Foolishly holding onto the slightest bit of glimmering hope. A waterway with a concrete walkway laid ahead, and it was the next opportunity to find something. The only suitable spot was already set up by someone with a box home, and other areas were private in that they were being used to store things for the boats docked along the waterway. I didn't have the courage to set camp in plain view of the boaters when daylight came around.
At the end of the pathway, a flight stairs led back up to the street level. I walked across a bridge over the waterway, and eventually walked besides an apartment complex. At the end of the apartments, there was another bridge, and a path in the grass leading under the bridge. I figured someone was probably staying under the bridge, but I should check anyways. Sure enough, there was 2 tidy box homes. One of them had a bicycle leaning against it while the other home had a broom. I was so disappointed even though I expected it. For the first time in my life, I felt envious of a homeless person. They'll never know I stood watching over them feeling completely broken while the weight of the world kept crushing me. But there was one possible opportunity: across the river, on the other side of the bridge. The chance of a campsite on the other side was probably the same as winning the lottery since people already made homes on this side of the bridge so people likely would be living under the other end. But I should check anyways.
Reaching the other side of the bridge, there wasn't a path in the grass leading under the bridge. That was a good sign no one resided there, but on the other hand, there may not be enough of a flat area for anyone to stay underneath. Climbing down, my headlamp revealed there was plenty of flat space, but no one under there! My quest for tonight was finally over, and the reward wasn't money or a new car or popularity. No, my prize was just a discrete hard flat surface, and I have never been so happy to be able to lie down on concrete. Salvation, even when beyond sight, had always been here waiting for me to reach it.
There are a couple more entries at the bottom of the advice section.
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