Woke up at 6:30! Earlier and earlier every day. At some point, I noticed in my iPhone’s weather app that sunrise is at 5:30.. no wonder.

My back ached so much last night, I wondered if today would be the day that sleep did not regenerate me and my back would tell me it was just done with this trip, as happened after only 4 days in Barcelona almost a year ago. After all my physical therapy in March and April, though, my back is in much better shape this time around and I was able to stand and walk just fine this morning.

I spent some time deleting extraneous photos before packing up to leave Tokyo. I got dressed and took some photos of my listing and then walked to Ebisu Station with my bags. I’m still pleasantly surprised that I was able to get around everywhere I wanted in Tokyo using just the JR Pass and not needing to buy a local metro card!

I took the Yamanote line to Shinagawa Station and visited the JR office there to reserve a seat to Odawara on the shinkansen, or “bullet train”. So excited! My first ride would be short, and I would later be taking much longer rides to Osaka and coming back from Kyoto.

I looked in a very busy station shop for a bento box for breakfast, and they all seemed to have meat in them. Outside the shop was a deli counter, and I got an egg sandwich to eat on the train. It was only a 27-minute train ride to cover the distance that would take an hour and 15 minutes by car. The shinkansen have been running in Japan since 1964, and I can’t help but wonder why the U.S. doesn’t have bullet trains, for example between Northern and Southern California.

I was aiming to arrive in Odawara at 10:00, and I did. However, it would take me another full hour to take care of business at the station before venturing out for the day. I would be spending today and tomorrow in Hakone, a mountain town known for its onsen (hot springs) and which has a transportation circuit that includes a railway, cable car, tram, and a boat built to resemble an English man-of-war — clearly, the circuit is for tourists, and I was totally OK with this!

I would be spending the night in a ryokan, the only night on my trip not in an Airbnb. A ryokan is a traditional Japanese inn in which guests stay in a room with a futon and tatami mats and a table where both dinner and breakfast are served. The one I’d booked in Gora, about halfway around the circuit, was less traditional in that there are a few floors of rooms, so it’s more reminiscent of a hotel than an inn, and meals are served in a common area. The more traditional features of Gora Tensui include wearing a yukata on the premises, a lighter version of a kimono; dinner being kaiseki, a multi-course meal; and on-site onsen.

Since I was spending the night and touring both before and after, I needed to stash the majority of my stuff in a locker and only bring with me what I needed at the ryokan and was willing to carry for two days. The lockers on the main floor and inside the station were either in use or not big enough.

I waited in line to buy the Hakone Free Pass, which is not free but costs ¥ 4,000 JPY, or about $36.50 USD. This covers fare on all the transportation modes plus offers small discounts at some of the sights along the way. And like the Japan Rail Pass, it’s really nice to show-and-go, rather than figure out how much you owe, get out the correct amount, and buy a new ticket for each leg of the journey.

I asked about additional lockers and was directed down two escalators to the outside of the station, but still set back from the street, where I found three banks of lockers in three different sizes.

My carry-on suitcase held my toiletries, clothes, shoes, and electronics. The backpack I carried was mostly for use on airplanes, with my travel pillows and snacks (and some small souvenirs I’d been acquiring along the way…). For today and tomorrow, I would need my backpack to carry my toiletries and a change of clothes, which required me to open both bags in front of the locker and do a lot of moving stuff around! I considered bringing my laptop, but it made the backpack too heavy and I substituted my iPad.

Once repacked, I was able to fit the carry-on and the previous contents of the backpack inside the medium size locker for ¥500. There was no way to indicate that I would need it for a second day, and I didn’t know what else to do but pay the first ¥ 500 and figure the rest out tomorrow.

Right. 11:00 now. Check-in at Gora Tensui is scheduled in advance and mine was at 16:30, so five-and-a-half hours to explore.

When doing my research in Portland, I bookmarked a very helpful Frommer’s guide to following the Hakone circuit, and this morning I’d saved it for offline viewing (has my planning juju returned??). The first optionally recommended stop before beginning the journey to and in Hakone was Odawara Castle. A castle in Japan? Sure. Plus I would get to see just a bit of Odawara rather than it being merely a gateway to Hakone.

The 10-minute walk from the station felt a bit longer, and I supposed I was anxious to get to Hakone. The grounds leading up to the castle were pretty, with a bright red bridge over a pond and some flower gardens. Several stairs led up to a large plaza, with the majestic castle sitting up even higher in the back. It seems what makes a Japanese castle is a building in tiers, each with arched roofs. I didn’t know what I was expecting, and it made me wonder about the definition of “castle”, which I’d only ever previously thought of as a European building of stone with turrets. (Looking it up in Wikipedia now, the definition for Medieval structures in Europe is “private fortified residence”, whereas in Japan the fortification was meant to protect strategic sites rather than a home.)

The plaza was filled with schoolkids, and a fee was required to visit the balcony of the castle, on which I could see plenty of other tourists. I took some photos of the castle and of some monkeys outside the Odawara Zoo, decided I was content with what I’d seen, and walked back to the station.

I thought better of just hoping my stuff would be alright in the locker for two days and read the signs above the lockers to better understand the policies. I was relieved to see that the lockers could be used for 3 days and that the pay screen would request the additional fee once I’d entered my PIN to open the locker and retrieve my belongings (not to mention that the signs explaining this were in English).

I was running low on the cash I’d retrieved from the first ATM three days ago and tried three different ATMs in the station, none of which accept foreign cards.

It was noon as I boarded the Odakyu train from Odawara to Hakone-Yumoto Station, where I transferred to the Hakone-Tozan Railway, a quaint three-car train that travels upward through forested land via switchbacks, where it briefly reverses course in order to keep going forward.

Per the guide, I made my lunch stop in Miyanoshita. The station appeared to be in the middle of nowhere, and I was concerned for a moment that the guide’s author had a different idea of “best place for lunch” than I did. Then I crossed to the other side of the train tracks and found a paved path heading down a slope toward town, with some cute cafes along the way. A large sign at the top mapped out eateries in town, and I decided a Japanese pub sounded interesting.

I walked down the slope and then along the main road until I hit a signal and turned left onto another main road that climbed slightly upward. From there, a path went up to the left that would fit one car only and seemed to be mostly for pedestrians. Up into the hills I walked among modest homes, wondering how a restaurant could be located up here.

It felt like a bit of a miracle when I actually found the pub, given that there was no sign outside, and steps led down from the narrow road to what looked like a home. Only the pedestal sign in front of the door designated it as a business. I went in and took off my shoes as instructed to be seated. I scanned the lunch menu, and there were basically two meals available to order; one looked like meat and the other was ¥ 2,000. I did not have enough cash for a meal, let alone a drink. Knowing it was a long shot, I asked if they accept credit cards, and they did not. I apologized to the two women behind the counter and put my shoes back on. After walking in the heat, I really wanted to drink the glass of water one of them had already served me and asked if that was OK. They gestured ‘yes’ and were very nice in general. I walked back out and up the steps and as I planned my next move, one of the women came out and brought the pedestal back inside, apologizing to me again that I couldn’t stay, and removing any trace of the restaurant inside.

I walked back down the hill toward the main roads, stopping along the way to consult another of the large signs mapping out the town’s businesses (which was hard to read at first because it was presented from a completely different perspective than the one by the station, so I guess the You Are Here is prioritized). I must have walked past the noodle house I’d chosen as I made it almost back to the path leading up to the train. I reversed course and found a barely-marked entryway to some steps. A sandwich board sign listed some dishes in Japanese and their prices, and I hoped I might find an English menu inside.

I followed the steps leading up and inside and found an older couple who spoke maybe three English words but they did have a laminated piece of paper with English translations of their dishes. I ordered cold soba noodles in broth with tofu and took a seat at a table on the floor, which is not so good for my back but I wasn’t there long. The dish was served quickly, and I ate it up as it was perfect on this warm day. The bill was ¥700, which I had in coins but I really needed to find an ATM soon!

I made my way back to the station and took the next train. I did not get off at Kowakidani Station, where a bus would have taken me to a quirky-sounding spa resort: they have onsen pools with green tea, coffee, sake, and wine. Not only is it a family-friendly joint (I’m not so into sharing space with lots of children), but the afternoon was moving right along.

I disembarked at Chokoku-no-Mori, the penultimate stop before Gora. The attraction here is the Hakone Open-Air Museum, a quick walk from the train station. The pass offers a ¥200 discount, leaving ¥1,400 to enter, which I didn’t have, and…. they do not accept credit cards. The ticket booth attendant was kind and spoke enough English to direct me to an ATM near the train station. Yay!

It was a 7-minute round trip walk to get the cash. A tour bus was just arriving when I came back, and I was thankfully able to get a ticket before they crowded the booth. While still at the train station, I had checked the schedule to Gora. I needed to be on the 16:16 train, and it was 14:45, which I was figured was probably the right amount of time to spend here.

I rode down an escalator with a glass roof and walked through a dark tunnel, which led to the sunny main plaza overlooking the expansive grounds. Sculptures of all different kinds dotted the plaza and the landscape beyond. I’m not much of an art person, but this was cool.

My favorite feature of the park wasn’t any of the sculptures. About 2/3 of the way around the looping path is a curvilinear 40°C (104°F) foot bath, with about 10 seats spaced apart. Verrrrrrry nice, especially after lots of walking with a backpack on.

Across from the foot bath was a cylindrical tower with stained glass walls. I went inside but did not have time to climb the spiral staircase to the top for the view. I essentially had to run-walk through the rest of the path in order to catch the train!

Gora Tensui, the ryokan, is about a 3-minute walk from Gora Station. I arrived with 5 minutes to spare before my check-in time. The building doesn’t look like much from the outside, but the lobby is gorgeous. Directly ahead of the entry are long, wide, lighted steps leading up to a bar with a view of Mt. Hakone behind it and in front of it…. a foot bath 🙂

I was asked to take a seat on a couch, and while I waited an American family of three arrived. A staff member directed them to sit down as well and then began helping them with their check-in.

I am aware how petty it sounds, but I absolutely loathe being made to wait longer than someone behind me in line. I was irked at the clerk for not keeping better track of their arriving guests, and I was irked at the family for not drawing his attention to me and noting that I’d arrived before them.

I didn’t have to wait much longer before another staff member brought forms to me and knelt down to go over them with me. First, she asked me to sign a slip of paper. I don’t sign anything without understanding what I’m agreeing to, but it didn’t go well when I asked about that, between her limited English and, I presume, confusion as to why I would even ask. What I gathered is I was simply saying I stayed there.

I experienced a similar feeling as I’d had in Costa Rica with respect to how they (don’t) schedule things: wow, my Americanness is really showing.

Next, she went over a list of things I needed to know for my stay, reading the bullet points to me and punctuating each one with an adorable “hai”. (This literally translates as “yes” but, in this context at least, is used differently than in English.) Dinner is at 18:00, hai. Checkout is at 11:00, hai.

Next up I got to choose my yukata. I knew from having messaged my Airbnb host in Tokyo before I booked to ask about his shower that my height in cm is ~177, which helped when I was directed to the stack for those who are 170 and taller. I chose a teal yukata with a floral pattern.

Next, the staff woman showed me to my room on the fourth floor. At the time I booked, I wanted to choose a Japanese-style room, with tatami mats and a futon bed and Japanese decor, but the only non-smoking room available was Western-style, with two double beds. This bummed me out, but I wasn’t willing to compromise and stay in a smoking room. The Western room also had a glass-walled bathroom with a deep round bathtub made of stone for soaking, so that went a long way to being happy with my choice.

The room I was shown to was not at all the one I’d seen in the photos when I booked. It was much smaller, and there was no stone bathtub. With some difficulty, using Google Translate and loading up the Gora Tensui site on my phone so I could point to the photo of the room I’d been anticipating, I communicated to the clerk that I was in the wrong room.

She went to consult their records, and while I waited I looked up my own. The description in my confirmation email more or less matched the room I was in. It included a “hot water pot”, which at the time of receiving the confirmation I’d taken to mean the stone bathtub but which now appeared to be the kettle for tea or coffee. It seemed I had somehow ended up not booking the room that I thought I had.

As I looked around, I realized that I’d been caught up in the wrongness and hadn’t noticed the rightness — I was in a Japanese-style non-smoking room! The clerk returned and said I was in the right room and that I could switch but I would need to pay more. I told her I must have misunderstood and thanked her.

After she left, I re-read my confirmation email and noted that it said “Modern Japanese/Western-style Room”. A-ha! The description did not exactly match the room I was in after all since it was not Western. Even though I was very happy with my room, I  I sent an email to the staff to make my point anyway.

As I write this: A) I’m not proud of being, again, petty, and B) I’m certain now that I was in the room that I’d booked and that Western-style referred to the bathroom as it had a tiled, walk-in rain shower.

I got settled and changed into my yukata. I found a basket of obi in the room’s closet; that’s the sash to tie around the waist. I looked up how to wear and tie the yukata properly and then noticed that the welcome papers I had been given included a printout of the same website I’d consulted 🙂

As I got my stuff situated in the tatami area at the foot of the bed, I realized that I am in love with tatami mats. They feel absolutely delicious on the feet.

On a shelf near the door were two sizes of bamboo flip-flops to choose from, and I put on the large ones. I took the elevator back down to the lobby, welcome drink coupon in hand, and stepped up to the bar. Oops! A staff member ran after me and asked me to please take off the flip-flops before stepping up to the bar 😬. I guess I was thinking I’d already taken off my shoes and these were like slippers?

I took a seat in one of the chairs without legs and stepped into the footbath, which I’d expected to be warm after the one I’d soaked in at the park but it was cool instead. I asked what types of drinks were available and went for a foofy sparkling passionfruit “wine” that was as delicious as I wanted it to be.

The staff had received my email and a gentleman came behind the bar to discuss my room situation with me. I let him know there was no more situation and everything was fine. I imagine in Japanese culture “I just wanted you to know that I was right that the room is not the one I booked” is not a reason to get a hold of service staff.

I finished my drink at 18:00 and walked a few steps over to the entrance to the dining room. I was shown to a table that was encased in chest-high walls. All of the tables were partitioned in some way for privacy from other guests.

The egg sandwich and soba noodles were all I’d eaten today, so the foofy wine was going to my head and, though I could have had any drink I wanted with dinner, I opted for green tea and water only.

Kaiseki is a traditional Japanese multi-course meal. The dishes I was served in succession had some familiar ingredients and flavors and some I’d never encountered, so I didn’t always know what I was eating and anything the server told me that I didn’t already know I forgot quickly. I wish I could write here about each dish I was served; however, I took photos and otherwise enjoyed the moment rather than taking notes.

The flavors that were new to me were unusual, like a small square bite of something in the first dish that looked sweet but was actually savory. There were vegetables, tofu, miso soup, some gelatinous squares made of potato, a bowl of seaweed (eww, no, too slimy), congee with fresh wasabi for grating, and a dessert course with melon, mochi, and mango yogurt.

It was around the third course that I asked how many were to come, and I about died when the server said, “Oh, I don’t know, four or five?” There were actually six more. It was on the fifth course that I realized I should not have been finishing every bite of each course. Nine total! This dining experience, which took an hour and 45 minutes, was a bit overwhelming, which is not to say I didn’t enjoy it. I was thrilled.

I went to the front desk to schedule two appointments for the evening, one at 21:00 in the private onsen and one at 22:00 in the hot stone “bath”, actually a large, heated bed made of natural stone. Ganban’yoku is believed to have a detoxifying effect on the body and improve the circulatory system.

With an hour until the first appointment, I went up to my room, which I found to be cold. I inspected the appliance in the corner and found that it was a dehumidifier but was also blowing cold air like A/C. I’d also realized at some point during the day that I had left my iPhone wall charger in the locker at Odawara Station. This was not a dire situation as I had brought my Anker battery pack and a charger cable, which would most likely last me through tonight and tomorrow afternoon, but I would certainly prefer a wall charger. I don’t always think to ask for help in situations like this, but it did occur to me in this moment to ask the front desk if they might be able to remedy these two things.

First, though, I had a bit of an emergency brewing. I’ll omit the details, but let it suffice to say in this space that dinner went right through me. It all seemed so healthy! Perhaps it was so healthy my body wasn’t sure quite how to process it.

I went down to the front desk, which was really just a podium area of the lobby with two or three staff members, and though I was early for my soak, I was given a basket with a towel and the key.

One of the staff thankfully spoke enough English to help with both the dehumidifier and the charger. He said I could turn the dehumidifier off and he would also bring me a heater – super nice! As for the charger, my English-speaking friend was called away and asked the other two to help find it, but it proved to be one of those things that you just know is around here somewhere.

As my appointment time came and went, I tried to communicate to them that I’d be back after my soak, but they wanted me to sit and wait (which I now know from what I learned about Japanese culture during my whole stay is because they wanted to offer me the best service, i.e. complete my request). I tried again using Google Translate, and then they felt bad that I was missing part of my soak. Ah, language.

The two private onsen rooms were on the fourth floor near my room. To find my onsen room, I matched the kanji on the wooden handle attached to the key in my basket to the kanji on a sign outside the door. As I was struggling to figure out how the key worked in the door, my English-speaking staff friend arrived huffing and puffing and holding a phone charger for me! I asked, “Did you run up here?”, and he made a gesture with his arms to indicate that he flew. So adorable. I thanked him and he said he would leave the heater outside my room.

Having figured out the door, I entered into a tatami-matted changing room with a sink and place my yukata into a basket. From there, a glass door opened into a large tiled shower room, with one shower head at each end, plus soap and shampoo and a small stool in case seated showering is your jam.

The next door led out to a balcony with a sitting area and a rectangular wooden soaking tub, a dispenser pouring hot spring water from nearby Ōwakudani into the tub every five minutes or so. Though it was too dark to see well, I knew that the view was of the Hakone mountains that I’d seen from the bar. Instead, I saw a sprinkling of city lights in a small town. I got in the tub and never wanted to get out.

A clock in the changing room is visible from the tub, and I did eventually get out and towel off. Leaving the private onsen room, I saw the heater had been left just outside my room door as promised. I brought it inside and went down to return the basket, towel, and key as I’d been instructed. I was early to return and to begin my next appointment, so I took some photos of the beautiful lobby lighting and stargazer lilies and decorative parasol. I took note of the sign at the entry doors indicating that they would be locked at midnight to prevent guests from going outside due to the presence of wild boars 😳

My appointment time came and went and I was not shown to the hot stone room. It seemed that it was occupied by a guest who was not answering the door. It was the family that had checked in at the same time I did. The father knocked loudly on the door and said to the staff that their teenage son must have fallen asleep. I waited patiently, but the mother threw me some side-eye as if I was tapping my foot with my arms crossed. After 5 to 10 minutes, I was shown to a hot stone room that was not the one the son had been using, so I was confused about the delay. I suppose it was the distraction of a guest missing the end of their appointment time.

An older, non-English-speaking gentleman had shown me to the room and gestured toward a basket with a new yukata in it. I didn’t quite understand what I was to do and went back out to the lobby and caught my English-speaking friend for help (I suppose I should have gotten his name). He explained that the hot stone will generate sweat, so I should first change into the provided yukata and make sure to take breaks.

When he left the ante-room for changing, I found a very helpful sign in English reiterating what he’d told me. When I entered the stone room, I was to place my towel over the stone surface, lay face-down for 5 minutes, face-up for 10 minutes, and then take a break for 5 minutes, either through a door that goes outside or in the changing room where water was available, the drinking of which was encouraged.

Three cycles were recommended, but with the delay in getting started, I only had enough time for two, which was just fine. I definitely fell asleep while in the face-up position both times and found the experience thoroughly relaxing.

Once back in my room, it turned out that after a hot spring soak and hot stone nap, I had no need of a heater! I did unplug the dehumidifier/aircon, though.

I did some deleting of today’s photos and went out like a light at 12:30.

I woke up at 6:50. I don’t know why this keeps happening, and really I would prefer more sleep, but it’s great for laptop time without impacting my day!

I wrote and published a summary blog post on Bali before getting up to eat my Blu Jam leftovers and get dressed. I still felt nerve pain but it was mild; I did a set of 10 press-ups before walking to Ebisu Station. I had decided on a day trip to the bayside town of Kamakura today, easily accessible on a single rail line that is covered by the JR Pass.

My train was due to arrive at 9:58. The digital signs announce incoming trains and their scheduled times. At 10:00, the 9:52 train to somewhere arrived, and I was both aghast that a train in Japan was late and uncertain that this was not my train! Most transit signs are in English but not all of them, and sometimes they alternate between Japanese and English and not necessarily in the moment an English speaker might need. I used other clues — the end destination for which train lines are named did not match the one I needed — to conclude that my train was yet to come. Sure enough, it arrived 5 minutes late at 10:03. Gasp!

I loosely followed Tokyo Cheapo’s guide to Kamakura, particularly the suggestion to start at Kita-Kamakura station, where I arrived at 11:00. The outdoor train platform was very, very long. An exit gate randomly appeared at a break in the fence behind the platform, and a tourist couple went through. I wondered whether I should too, but I didn’t know yet which direction to go to reach the first temple suggested in the guide, so I continued on to the end of the platform where the main gates and agent booth were.

Without the pocket wifi, navigation on my phone was unfortunately very slow. I had scheduled a calendar event for yesterday in my phone before I left Portland to purchase a data pass with T-Mobile, since they were available in 10-day increments and that would coincide with my remaining 10 days here, but I didn’t open my calendar and I thought I had the use of the pocket wifi anyway. By the time I used the restroom and loaded a map with directions to the first temple recommended by the guide, a half hour had gone by already!

I followed Google Maps directions to walk back the entire length of the train platform but on an adjacent path outside of the station. Which I soon found was blocked by a construction project. The only way to continue on the path was to reverse course back to the main gates, enter the train station, and walk the long platform back to that random exit I’d seen ::facepalm::

When I did that, an agent at the smaller gate stopped me and tried to direct me back down the platform again. I would later find out that if I’d kept going out the main gates in the same direction, I would have arrived at a set of steps leading up to Engakuji. I didn’t know that, though, and protested to the agent that I was going the way I needed to, showing him the map on my phone. He bought it and directed me to the stairs I was apparently looking for.

I may have gone the “wrong” way, but I am totally happy with the stairs that I took rather than the main stairs that most people take. They led up to a path that bordered the occasional residence on one side and a valley view on the other. I passed a home with a water feature behind a fence that I could not see but whose peaceful trickle I enjoyed.

More stairs and a windy path eventually spilled me onto the grounds of the Engakuji Temple. I started at the very large wooden Sanmon, or Main Gate into the temple grounds, followed by the butsuden, or Buddha Hall. A sign advised me to take off my shoes before entering the butsuden. I admired and photo’d the large Buddha inside and observed the behavior of people coming in to pray: the coin offering, the bowing, the clapping. I wanted to follow the ritual but I did not want to make a mockery of it, so I simply watched.

Upon exiting, I noticed I was the only visitor in bare feet. I had neglected to notice the box of slippers available at each of two entryways after one has removed one’s shoes. Ah, well.

I made my way toward the entrance/exit down the stairs that I didn’t take when I arrived and came upon a row of vending machines, which are everywhere in Japan. So many vending machines with coffee, soda, and water. I bought a refreshing-sounding soft drink called Green Lemon that came in an aluminum can shaped like a bottle. It was, in fact, refreshing, but it also leaked a little bit and made my hands sticky while I was managing photo-taking and carrying an info pamphlet at my next stop.

Across the train tracks and a block or so down the main road is Shōkozan Tōkei-ji, founded in 1285 by a nun. Actually, she was a widow, and women were expected to become nuns when their husbands died. So she founded a nunnery as a refuge for battered women, who had no right at the time to seek a divorce but could petition for one after three years at the temple, and so it came to be known as the Divorce Temple. I wandered the grounds for a half hour or so, a cemetery being a large part.

At this point, I had the option to hike up to 90 minutes to the next point of interest, but it was pretty hot out, I hadn’t eaten enough for that, and I was going to end up with a lot of walking for the day even without a hike, so I went back to Kita-Kamakura Station and took the train one stop to Kamakura Station. The next stop was a bus ride away, but first I wanted lunch. With my slow wifi, I looked up nearby options that I might like and landed on inari (yum).

Just across from the station, a huge torii gate served as the entrance to Komachi-dori, a cute pedestrian shopping street. I was looking for a place called Hannari, but Japanese businesses don’t always have their Romanized name displayed on a sign. When I reached the point on the map where I should see it, I went in to a busy corner shop offering samples of nuts and peppers and other things I didn’t recognize. I asked the cashier “Hannari?”, and she very kindly walked me out and pointed me in the right direction. I still didn’t see what I was looking for until I realized it’s not a shop but a stand.

I was thankfully able to order from a picture menu. The woman in the stand spoke lots of Japanese to me during our brief transaction, none of which I understood at all, but we got by. She handed me a cute little box of food, and when I made a hand-cleaning gesture as a means of asking where I would find a napkin, she gestured in turn that it’s inside the box already. To ask her where I could sit, I needed Google Translate. She pointed up and behind her stand, where I found a short set of stairs leading first to a bench and then upward further to some other businesses. The bench was directly in the sun, but I really needed to sit somewhere, anywhere, and I had this little corner all to myself for a moment.

After lunch, I was in the mood for dessert. I had seen an image in front of a sweets shop that gave me the impression they had mochi ice cream, but it turned out to be a kind of truffle. Mental note: get mochi before I leave Japan. I perused a soft serve stand (they are seriously everywhere) but left when I heard the staff use the word “American” to the patrons ordering. Without context, I assumed this was an explanation of the offerings. An American doesn’t need an American dessert while in Japan!

The Tokyo Cheapo guide mentions the option of taking a bus from gate 6 at Kamakura Station to my next stop, Kōtoku-in. I walked back to the station and found gate 6, checking with the driver of the bus waiting there to make sure he was going where I thought he was. I must not have pronounced Kōtoku-in correctly, because he did not understand me twice, and finally I said, “Buddha,” and he nodded.

What drew me to Kamakura, besides being recommended as a delightful day trip, was that it is home to the “Great Buddha”, or Daibatsu, the second-largest in Japan. The bronze statue dates back to 1252, and owing to the destruction of multiple temple buildings by typhoons and tsunami, it has been in the open air since 1498.

The bus took less than 15 minutes across Kamakura, and I managed to get off at the right stop, with the Daibatsu entrance just across the street. Other than the massive throng of fellow tourists, the sight did not disappoint. The 44-feet-tall Buddha is gorgeous with its green patina and in its serene repose. I admired it from various angles for an hour or so, here and there taking photos and asking for other visitors if they wouldn’t mind taking some of me.

To get back to Kamakura Station, I could take the bus again, or I could walk a bit to the Hase train station. I opted to walk a bit out of the way, past the train station, to reach Sagami Bay. I can’t imagine visiting a bayside town and not seeing the water! I enjoyed the 10-minute walk, passing by small shops and restaurants, and finally stopped for dessert. I got a soft serve after all, a green tea and vanilla swirl, which I’ve never seen in America 😉

Reaching the beach, I took off my shoes and let the tide ebb and flow over my feet. How surreal and cool to have a beach town experience in Japan (since it’s not the first thing that comes to mind as characteristic of the country).

I walked back to Hase Station and took the Enoden line back to Kamakura Station. It was almost 17:00 and I was feeling realllly done for the day, but I pushed myself to see one more stop. For the sake of time, I had skipped Hasedera Temple near Hase Station, which was recommended by the guide. I did want to see Tsurugaoka Hachimangu shrine as I could see on Google Maps that there were ponds on the grounds, and it was situated at the end of Komachi-dori, which I hadn’t seen all of as I’d stopped when I found lunch.

As it turned out, my back was starting to ache and the shops were closing up anyway, so I pretty much powered up Komachi-dori to reach the shrine. I entered through another very large torii gate (to the side and not through the center which is reserved for spirits/gods) and walked over one of two arched bridges to view a lilypad-covered pond. The two ponds represent rival clans from the 12th century.

I walked the long main approach past a stage for music and dance performances and up the long steps to the main hall. Turning around, the long view went past the steps and the stage through the torii gate and up Wakamiya Ōji, Kamakura’s main street, all the way to the bay.

I walked back to Kamakura Station via Wakamiya Ōji rather than Komachi-dori because I hadn’t seen it yet. A much wider avenue of shops, in the center runs a pedestrian pathway lined with cherry trees. Ah, to be here in April. As I made my way to the station, I was surprised to see a man pulling an empty rickshaw! I didn’t know this was a transportation option here.

From 18:00 to 19:00, I rode the train back to Tokyo and looked up where I might eat dinner. I wanted more sushi and researched options near the listing. There weren’t a lot and the reviews in Google Maps were both infrequent and in Japanese, so I just chose the closest one.

I initially walked right past it as its storefront is not on the street. Rather, a large sign lists a number of businesses that can be found up an escalator that is set back from the sidewalk. The sign, along with a Japanese logo, said “Food & Restaurant” could be found on floor 2. Up the escalator and off to the right I found an elegant entryway I would not expect to see at what felt like an office strip mall. Through the curtain I found an even prettier rock path leading to a sliding wooden door.

Upon entering Sushi Dokoro Hashiri, I felt a bit like I’d stepped into a private party. An L-shaped counter sat approximately 10 people. Three of those seats were occupied around the corner, the dining patrons giving their attention to the chef in the center. All 4 of them turned to look at me, and I was relieved to find that the chef spoke English, at least enough to get by during dinner. He first asked if I had reservations, which of course I did not, but that seemed to be OK as he seated me in the 7th or 8th slot.

I ordered a small beer from the beverage menu, brought to me by a hostess/server who spent most of the evening standing at attention near the kitchen, available but mostly on the periphery of the proceedings. The chef placed two large wooden rectangular boxes with glass lids in front of me and pulled the lids off to reveal several types of fresh, raw fish. I asked if there was a food menu to help guide me, and …. no, there is not.

!!!

Holy shit, what is this place. I was simultaneously exhilarated at the sushi experience I was about to have and terrified about what I might have gotten myself into money-wise. I had literally no idea if I would be spending $30, $50, $100…? Is sushi less expensive in Japan than the U.S. because it’s local and commonplace? Is this a typical Japanese sushi dinner, or is this special even in Japan?

I just went with it.

They have a chef’s course and they have a la carte. I can never make it through a prix fixe multi-course meal and was pretty sure that was going to cost more than I wanted to pay. So I began perusing and asking about the fish options.

I chose tuna and asked for 4 pieces, jackfish (1 piece), and salmon roe (1 piece) — all of them nigiri. I watched the chef throughout his preparation of my meal. First, he prepared my plate with ginger slices and poured soy sauce into a shallow dish. He sliced the fish, formed balls of vinegar’d rice, carefully scooped the roe.. each of his movements practiced and precise. I was entranced.

Honestly, when I ate each piece, I was not bowled over with the best sushi I’d ever tasted in my life, but this became less about the food and more about the personal, intimate service. In between speaking with the other 3 patrons he served, the chef talked to me about the fish, asked me about my travels, told me about their San Francisco location (!) and how he learned English.

On that note, we had some miscommunication.

My 7th piece was nishin, a type of herring, and the 8th was shiro ebi, a shrimp. I was surprisingly full after 8 pieces; when I was offered green tea, I didn’t feel I had the room but I wasn’t ready for my dining experience to be over, so I accepted.

I kept photos to a minimum so I could be immersed in the present moment but I did take brief notes on my phone as to what I ate. When I asked the chef to remind me about the second piece I’d had, the jackfish, he thought I was asking for more and made me another piece! I saw it happening but I wasn’t entirely sure he’d pulled out the fish and was slicing it for me until he placed it in front of me. What else to do but eat a 9th piece…

Then he shared another bonus piece with me that he was serving to the other gentlemen in the room, a cucumber roll with shiso leaf and sesame. As full as I was, that was delightful. As were the four cherries served to me to complete the meal once and for all. Whew.

I sat for another 15 minutes or so with my tea before I gestured to the hostess with the universal signing gesture for the bill. When she brought it over, I admit that, even knowing I could be in for sticker shock, I still did a bit of a double take. The total was ¥9,500, or about $87 USD. It was handwritten on an otherwise blank piece of paper, i.e. not itemized. I did not know who calculated this figure or how, whether each of my pieces was counted… and ultimately, it did not matter. My shock faded quickly into acceptance as I considered what I’d gotten for my money. (Plus, my entire day in Kamakura had cost me ¥1,800, or all of about $16 USD.)

I got up to leave and wanted to use the full phrase for “thank you” out of honor and respect. Rather than just “arigato”, I said, “arigato gozai mashita”, pronouncing each syllable — ma/shi/ta. The room laughed. Neither at me nor with me, and I didn’t know why. As with my bare feet in the temple, I self-deprecatingly laughed at myself as the doofy American. I later heard the final word in the phrase pronounced as “mahsh/da”. Ah, well. Now I know!

It was only 20:30 when I left the restaurant, but it felt like 23:00 and I desperately needed to lay my achy back down in bed.

I did my stretches and got in bed to write but did not write. I would soon be in Osaka and did some prep, researching the Kansai One Pass, a transit card I might use, and messaging my Airbnb host, which in turn led to me checking work email (sigh). I purchased the T-Mobile data pass that would really have come in handy today but which I could at least use over the next 9 days. I logged my cash transactions for the day and I looked at Instagram. Alas, no blogging.

At 23:30, it was sleepytime.

I awoke at 7:00, which was a good thing. After so much walking yesterday and feeling constantly behind with online tasks to the point of stress, I needed the morning as a break from touring. I consoled myself with the fact that I could never see/do all of Tokyo anyway.

I made some tea and spent 4.5 hours on my laptop! I thoroughly caught up on finances, published a blog post about my last day in Ubud, and researched where to go today.

I found a half-day walking tour recommendation for Daikanyama and Nakameguro, and my heart sank a little again. It would have been absolutely perfect for my half-day yesterday after the cafe in the morning. Rather than rely on my bullet points culled from a few emails, it would have served me so well to take a few minutes to review the emails themselves.

When I did so, I was reminded of a tip from a co-worker: go see Takeshita-dori but take detours onto the side streets to escape the madness and poke around smaller shops. Instead, I’d just walked the main thoroughfare totally overwhelmed. It probably would not have made much of a difference to me to explore the side streets, but I also re-read that a friend of a friend had visited “teen mall on crack” Laforet, which I had walked right past after I exited Takeshita-dori and was on my way to Two Rooms. Would I have seen Harajuku fashion there? I don’t know, but it felt like a missed opportunity and like Japan had gotten off on the wrong foot 😕

I had the loose idea that after Yoyogi Park, I would take the 45-50 minute ride on the Yamanote line east to Ueno Park, and this morning I read about Akihabara just south of there, the nerd culture center whose main street is closed to cars on Sundays. A plan comes together!

I showered and got dressed and did some quick pelvic corrections and press-ups. I had woken up with a little bit of nerve pain that I mostly ignored. It was mild, and I didn’t have time for that shit. I was pretty hungry at this point and realized as I was leaving that I could have eaten my leftover salmon scramble from yesterday. Sigh.

I walked to Ebisu Station (it seems I may get around Tokyo with my JR Pass and without buying a Suica metro card) and rode the Yamanote line one stop to Shibuya Station and took the Hachikō exit.

Hachikō was a dog in the 1920s who waited every day at Shibuya Station to greet his professor owner when he would return home from work. One day, the professor passed away suddenly and did not return from work, yet Hachikō continued to wait at Shibuya at the same time every day for over 9 years afterward. He became a symbol of family loyalty in Japan and is commemorated with a statue at the station. So I went to see it! (Along with dozens of other folks, but I managed to snag a photo with no people in front of or on the sides of the statue because I am a wizard at capturing people-free photos in people-packed locales. It takes more patience than I could exhibit were I not traveling alone.)

Just a few steps from the statue is Shibuya Crossing, a pedestrian intersection known locally as “The Scramble”. It’s massive and has a diagonal direction in addition to the usual four that intersections have, and when the lights turn red for the cars, hundreds of people pour into the crossing from all directions. I watched for a couple cycles of the lights and realized my phone was never going to capture the spectacle. I’d read about an overhead vantage point, and when I turned around and looked up, I saw about a block away a second-floor walkway within Shibuya Station with faces pressed to glass. I went up there, took some photos, and then came back down to walk the intersection myself, sans photo taking and with a silly smile at doing something so routine and iconic at the same time.

Back on the Yamanote line I went and rode one more stop to Harajuku again (really can’t help but roll my eyes at myself on this). A bridge crosses over the railway tracks to get to the entrance to Yoyogi Park. I lingered a moment around the bridge as I’d read this is also a good place for Harajuku fashion viewing. Alas, nada. There were some breakdancers taking turns in a busking spot. There was a dude dancing in a crazy loose way, and I really wanted to capture him feeling himself but when I would raise my camera he would stop, though I don’t think he ever saw me. Karmically, it was not meant to be.

I traded photo-taking with some strangers at a very large torii gate that I thought was Meiji Shrine but which I later learned was merely the entrance to the path that leads to the shrine. This was not the first time I would make this mistake in Japan.

I followed the wide path through the gate and into the park. I didn’t know where I was going, but I figured I would be most likely to find the greasers and other good people-watching in an open grassy area, something like Dolores Park in San Francisco. I passed by a wall of sake barrels, an offering to the enshrined souls of Emperor Meiji and his consort, Empress Shoken (late 1800s).

I found myself at a temizuya, an elaborate water basin at the entrance to every shrine (my clue that I had actually reached Meiji, though I ultimately didn’t proceed to view it). I’d read about the purification ritual and gave it a go, scooping water with a ladle and rinsing one hand and then the other, followed by my mouth, poured out the rest of the water and returned the ladle, bowed once and clapped once. I read about it again later to see how close I’d gotten. My left/right order was backward, the excess water is meant to be poured down the ladle’s handle for rinsing, and I think the bowing/clapping happens in front of the shrine rather than at the temizuya. I had time for improvement before I got to Kyoto, city of many temples.

It was almost 14:00, and I was discouraged that I wasn’t going to see the Yoyogi greasers. I looked online to see if I could find where in the park they do their thing (again… would have been a great idea to do this before I got here… my planning for this trip was so on point, and then in Japan, where I most needed to have my shit together, I just … didn’t). Alas, it seemed to be at the entrance to the park at the Harajuku Bridge! Sigh. I walked back, feeling pretty sure I’d either missed them or they weren’t here today.

Back at the bridge, I needed to decide my next move. I hadn’t eaten yet and needed to figure that out. I looked up places around Ueno Park. It was going to be almost an hour on the train, and though I was anxious to move on from Harajuku, there were a lot more options around where I already was. I Google’d vegetarian ramen and found a place relatively nearby called Ichiran that probably didn’t offer a non-meat broth but sounded promising nonetheless as they seemed to take their tonkotsu ramen very seriously.

I arrived to find a line down the stairs, and when I tried to join, an employee guided me to the overflow line on the sidewalk. My gut reaction was “well, stuff this,” but then I realized this was a good sign. It got better when the employee managing the line handed me a menu to peruse in advance and I realized this was one of the ramen joints I’d heard of where you barely interact with a server because you sit in an individual booth and they pass your food through a little window. I’d completely forgotten I wanted to do this, and I was here by accident! Some things work out without planning.

I used Google Translate to ask the host if vegetarian broth was available, and I will probably never forget his reaction as he somewhat somberly made an X with his two index fingers and bowed slightly forward. Message received. And totally OK with me. I am doing this. Cultural exception made.

Since Ichiran specializes in one dish, the menu was relatively easy — you just decide what add-ons you want: pork slices, egg, extra green onions, extra garlic. I selected an egg and the yummy-sounding dessert: matcha almond pudding with green tea sauce.

I reached the top of the stairs, and another employee guided me to one of two pay machines (cash only). A ticket popped out for each of the three items I ordered, including the ramen.

The machine employee monitors exiting diners and guided me inside when there was space in the next waiting area, where yet another employee handed me a form to customize my ramen. I could choose: light to strong seasoning of the stock, richness, amount of garlic, green onion greens or whites, with or without spicy red sauce, and noodle texture. The menu had said to choose 0 if any spicy sensitivity, and while I’ve worked my way up from total wuss to “medium”, I had no idea what medium spicy meant for tonkotsu ramen at Ichiran in Tokyo. I didn’t want my ramen to be inedible to me, so I went light across the board, except for the garlic (the add-on is 2 cloves, whereas the form allowed up to 1 clove and I chose 1/2); light seasoning and richness, zero spice.

Eventually, I was ushered through one of two curtains into a narrow row of “flavor concentration booths”, each of which has chopsticks, a water tap, instructions, and a window shade that is down until the patron is seated. My shade went up and I pushed forward my three tickets. The kitchen staff asked me something in response. Uh-oh. I thought there was going to be no verbal exchange at all. I used Cindy’s phrase, “Eigo OK des?” Nope, no English here. The shade went down. When it came back up, a small bowl with my egg appeared, as well as a small metal tray that served as a placeholder for ordering my dessert. (I guess we all let go of whatever they needed to know.)

I took photos while waiting for my ramen, which took all of about 4 minutes. I peeled the egg and added it to the bowl. Moment of truth! Oh….. bummer. It’s really bland! My bad. I could have bumped the seasoning and even the spiciness just a little. That’s OK. While it didn’t taste like some of the best ramen in the world, I was thoroughly enjoying the entire experience.

The instructions on the wall made clear how to use the small metal tray, though they refer to ordering extra noodles ordered in advance as opposed to dessert. When I finished my ramen, I pushed the tray forward onto a small platform with two push buttons, one to indicate you’re away from the table (presumably to use the loo) and the other to call for the kitchen to collect your extra order. Pushing the order button rings out a charamela tune that made me feel like I was back in Hobbiton in New Zealand and which was so frequent during my lunch that it played in my head for a few days.

The tray was collected immediately and almost as quickly my dessert arrived. I opened the packet of green tea sauce and poured it onto the cylindrical mound of pudding. Oh… yum. Not bland at all. And not overly sweet. Super yum.

From the moment I arrived to when I left was just a little over an hour and yet felt like a monumental event!

I walked back to Harajuku Station and took the Yamanote line to Ueno. The park is directly across from the station, which was good because it was already 17:00 when I arrived! Ueno is a pretty park with fountains and gardens and a lake and apparently I love visiting these types of spots, like the botanic gardens in Wellington, when I travel. I’ve been thinking about whether I visit places like this at home. I’ve been to Portland’s rhododendron gardens once when my mom visited, I’ve been to the rose garden in Washington Park a few times, and I’ve visited the Japanese and Chinese gardens at least once each. This seems to be a travel focus for me, though.

Also likely to be a good geocaching spot! And I hadn’t found one yet in Japan. I looked in the app and found that there was a cache not far from the entrance and to the left, but first I wanted to see the fountain off to the right. It was much bigger than I expected and very pretty and unfortunately shrouded in shadow. Alas, the consequence of spending the entire morning at home.

I bypassed the zoo. Pandas are adorable but it was too late in the day for that, and I’m ambivalent about zoos anyway. I have never been to the Oregon Zoo in Portland.

I walked toward the cache, which was also toward the park’s Buddha that I wanted to see. Gah! Gates closed. I had simply arrived too late. On the plus side, the cache was very easy to find and there weren’t too many “muggles” around (the geocaching community borrowed and adapted this Harry Potter term to mean non-geocachers, similar to non-magical types), allowing me to sign my name in the log and return the cache to its hiding spot undisturbed. A third country added to my geocaching map this trip – yay!

I made my way toward the lake (I love water features!), passing through a lane of vendors selling all manner of food on a stick: fish, chicken, crab, tofu… I passed a few shrines and encountered the first of many “ema” that I would see: small wooden plaques hanging on a large board in front of temples and shrines upon which wishes are handwritten.

Arriving at the lake, I found people padding lazily along in dozens of pastel swan-shaped boats. I found a bench and enjoyed the placid view for a bit before making my way back toward the exit of the park. I encountered a baseball game in progress and took some video to send to my friend Todd, who passed on his love of baseball to his 14-year-old son and is currently immersed in tournament season with him.

It was another two stops on the Yamanote line to Akihabara, and I looked up how long the main street is closed on Sundays. It reopens at 18:00, and I arrived at 18:30. Sigh… Tokyo, you vex me.

Actually, it was cool arriving at dusk as the whole environment was very Bright Lights Big City, which I loved seeing. On the other hand, I had the same feeling as when wandering Takeshita-dori yesterday… which shops to look in? what exactly would I be looking for? I walked side streets instead and noticed my back was becoming walked-a-lot achy.

I passed a half-dozen young women dressed as “maids” and handing out cards promoting their cafes. Another thing Akihabara is known for are the maid cafes, where the female servers dress as maids — sometimes French, sometimes Victorian, sometimes anime-inspired — and treat patrons as their masters and mistresses. Not in a kinky way, they’re meant to be seen as innocent and cute in their subservience.

I was hungry and considered trying this experience, but it’s not really about the food and I decided that it was likely something that would be silly fun if I had someone with me but would just be silly alone.

The analysis paralysis I mentioned yesterday continued, and I was struck with the feeling that I was having a hard time participating in Tokyo so far. With that in mind, and unable to decide where I was going to eat, I had a “fuck it” moment and decided I would check out the six floors of arcade in one of the SEGA buildings (there are many). I’m going in!

The first and second floors had crane/claw games, those money sinks that never allow you to catch the stuffed animal or what not. The sixth floor was a giant VR arena. The third, fourth, and fifth floors had arcade games of various styles that have evolved quite a bit since I used to play Tron.

I was intimidated by most of it but found two different versions of Dance Dance Revolution, a super-disco platform I had no idea how to use and the old-school version with arrows to step on. I wanted to play! It had a card reader rather than coin slots to deposit ¥100 per game.

In the center of the floor was a help desk, a change machine, and a player card dispenser. I purchased a Nesica player card for ¥300 ($2.75 USD) and went back to DDR, but applying the card to the reader didn’t start the game. Some English-speaking folks came over to DDR and seemed interested. I told them I was having trouble using my card and left them to the game while I tried to figure it out. I asked an employee for help, but he spoke no English and I didn’t understand the gestures he used. When I wandered back to DDR, the people I left there were playing, and when I asked how, they had used coins! I had missed the coin slots 🙄

I used Google Translate to ask another employee if I could refund the card, and that was a hard ‘no’. I became determined to figure out how to use it to play and asked him for more help. He was far less patient and kind than the first employee I’d engaged but nonetheless tried to walk me through starting up some kind of music/girl-group game. He advanced through a few screens and then stood aside, looking elsewhere in the gaming area, and nothing was happening to start the game, and I couldn’t ask him “what now?” because of the language barrier and it was loud and he was kind of over helping me. Argh.

After more wandering around in stubbornness, I eventually let go of the fact that I’d purchased a gaming card that I didn’t need and wasn’t going to be able to use and I dropped a ¥100 coin in DDR. Wheeee! It gave me 3 songs, which I didn’t expect. They were all beginner level, and the arrows were ridiculously slow, but I loved it. I participated!

It was 21:45 when I arrived back at Ebisu Station, having traveled all the way around the circular Yamanote line. I saw an Indian place nearby called Tandoor, and that sounded pretty good. Despite having put off dinner, I wasn’t hungry enough for a full meal and I was impatient to get back home and rest. I simply had two veggie samosas and called it good.

Back home, I showered and gave my hair its first proper shampoo since New Zealand. The hosts in Bali didn’t provide shampoo and to save space I had brought only conditioner for my hair and Dr. Bronners for hand washing of clothes, body wash, hand soap, and shampoo.

I got in bed and spent some more time online, though I had to switch back to the salon network as I had apparently used all of the pocket wifi’s data allowance. Oh well, it was very convenient while it lasted.

I awoke a little after 7:30, after nearly 9 hours of delicious sleep, except I felt the nerve pain again. I didn’t have it last night, so it must be the bed. The mattress is similar to the one in Amed in that it feels firm but there must be something about it that my back doesn’t like, which is a bummer given I have three more nights here.

I had just started to put together a final Facebook photo post of Ubud when the wifi died. I contacted Tamio via both Airbnb and WhatsApp and just kind of paused, unsure what to do with myself. Just as I had disrobed and put on my shower cap (yes, really), a staff member from the salon rang the doorbell. I dressed again quickly and let him in. He spoke zero English but we were both prepared with Google Translate and managed to communicate with gestures and showing sentences to each other.

Of course he led me through typing in the password but eventually established that his phone could not connect either. He went back to the salon. He came over again with the pocket wifi that the host charges ¥500 per day for (about $4.50 USD), and it still wasn’t working. Tamio called him, and he went back to the salon as he took the call, which didn’t give me a chance to say I wanted to shower while they were working this out. He came back a third time (I really appreciated his diligence.. no wifi is not an option) to try something that didn’t work. I pointed to the shower without pointing to myself first, and he peeked inside the shower.. adventures in language.. and then typed out that I would come to the salon on my way out.

I showered and dressed and grabbed my laptop. At the salon, I said that I would be back in a couple hours and asked about the progress on determining a fix for the wifi, and the staff member said it should be working by then.

I walked up the quiet and narrow residential street with an occasional restaurant or shop to the side (interesting mixed use) and turned left onto a busier but still narrow road. There weren’t so much sidewalks as walking lanes.

I had looked up the nearest ATM and found that there was a bank next door to a cafe. As I approached, I saw a Familymart (along with 7-11, also many locations here) with an ATM in the window and forgot I was looking for a bank. This had two consequences as I withdrew cash. One, there was a fee assessed by the ATM company, and two, despite informing me on the screen that it was counting out ¥1,000 bills, it dispensed a single ¥10,000 bill! This is pretty much the exact equivalent of getting 1 $100 instead of 5 $20. The fee was very small but I just prefer when my travel fu is on point.

I looked at the menu at the cafe and decided to also check out the cafe across the street, the name Blu Jam on a sign out front of the open-air building housing multiple businesses. Blu Jam is two floors below street level and looked like my… jam.

Both the hostess and my server spoke perfect American English, and the menu had boatloads of American breakfast items. Over the next 10 days, I would have plenty of authentic Japanese experiences and struggle with the language barrier. This morning, I was happy to have a salmon scramble and strong wifi to update Facebook and catch up on blog entries. This table also had a little basket to put my shoulder bag in. I love this and want this in the States.

It was already 13:00 when I got back to the listing to drop off my laptop and go explore Tokyo. I went to the salon and found Tamio at the reception. I asked him about the progress on fixing the wifi, and he looked at me like, “What are you talking about?” He had already forgotten it was an issue, and I realized he didn’t believe it was an actual issue but that I was doing something wrong. He took my phone and saw the error messages upon entering the password, and I asked him to try connecting his own phone.

He was surprised when it didn’t work and finally checked the Apple AirPort Extreme router and found the problem, something like it had been inadvertently turned off or a switch flipped. In any case, he was hugely apologetic and offered me the use of the pocket wifi for free – sweet! I didn’t think ¥500 per day was a lot of money, but I’m naturally resistant to extra charges for things and somehow I didn’t realize what a difference having wifi on the go would make.

He walked out with me and also offered to give me a ride to the train station. Since it was an 8-minute walk and he had already sufficiently apologized by giving me use of the pocket wifi, I replied, “No, that’s OK,” as I emerged out of the salon door to see the vehicle in which he was offering a ride: a Harley that was reminiscent of a carriage as it had a bench seat for two behind the driver. I thought, “No, wait, YES, I want a ride in THAT!” but I didn’t catch the thought in time and in the rhythm of our conversation to be able to back up and say so. I really wish I had.

From several emails forwarded by friends with Japan suggestions, I had put together a bullet point list of places to go, but I didn’t have a solid plan. Knowing that basically everything happens 1-3 Yamanote line stops north of where I was, I just headed to Harajuku to see some crazy-ass teen fashion and/or visit a hedgehog or owl cafe.

My heart sank a bit when I realized as soon as I arrived that Harajuku borders Yoyogi Park, where I did have a plan to go tomorrow. Sunday is the day everyone in Japan has off of work and is good for people-watching in the park, particularly if you catch the greasers, dressed in 1950s rockabilly outfits and dancing to Elvis, which I surely wanted to see. With only three full days to explore Tokyo and one of those designated for a day trip, I couldn’t believe I was doubling up on destinations 😦

I had mixed feelings about supporting animal cafes but I thought I would go check one out to get a feel for it and maybe take a photo from outside (though I imagined the owners being smarter than that). I walked round and round and could not find the one I was looking for. I did find a tourist information office that said the one I was looking for seats all of 6 people and requires reservations anyway. I gave up on that bullet point.

Takeshita-dori is a pedestrian street lined with shops full of colorful clothes and accessories and kawaii (Japanese cute stuff). It’s kind of a must-see in Harajuku and where I would be most likely to see some wild outfits. It was craaaaaaazy packed with people, and I’m not much of a shopper, even the window variety, so I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing there. Apparently, crêpes are the thing to eat in Harajuku, so I picked a stand and picked a crêpe, from the hundred or so options, that didn’t have whipped cream, which would be way too much sugar for me. The custard banana chocolate crêpe was good, particularly the crêpe itself, but I still wondered WTF I was doing.

I had a loose plan to meet up tonight with Cindy, a member of the Payments team in Dublin (the EMEA counterpart to my own team in North America) that had just left Airbnb to move to Japan two months ago. It had been a dream of hers since childhood to visit Japan, which she did for the first time in 2015 and then just kept going, for longer stays each time, until she decided to move.

While eating my crêpe, Cindy messaged me on WhatsApp to ask where I wanted to meet, and I requested that she please choose a spot she likes and tell me when to be there. I was overwhelmed by all that Tokyo has to offer to the point of analysis paralysis and figured she would have an idea for something local that I would like.

As I reached the end of Takeshita, I sat down to figure out where to next and saw that my phone battery was at 40%. I got out my Anker pack and realized that I hadn’t brought the charger cable too. First time this trip that I’d done that. Fuckity fuck fuck. I had planned to stay out until after meeting up with Cindy, but I would have to go back to the listing.

I had one more stop first. I have found Tokyo Cheapo to be a very helpful guide to Japan, not necessarily for free and low-cost suggestions, just in general. In this Harajuku post, they mention a bar and grill called Two Rooms with a fifth-floor terrace and skyline views. I love that!

I walked from Harajuku to nearby Omotesando and went up to Two Rooms. At the reception desk, I tried out the literal translation of “Do you speak English?” and the staff looked at me confused before saying yes she speaks English (I must not have said it right but close enough).

She escorted me out to the terrace and I chose a cushioned love seat in front of a coffee table with a view through the glass wall. She handed me food, drink, and cigar menus. A guy one seat over was smoking a cigar, and I noped on out of there.

I chose instead a four-top seat under an umbrella and ordered a kiwi and lychee martini. As soon as the server walked away, I spotted the real seat for me. A stool and bar table right up against the glass wall, so you couldn’t have a more perfect view. I decided not to care what the servers would think about me switching seats twice and moved.

A female server brought my drink (sorry, guy whose section I moved out of) and I was a bit peckish so I asked her to leave the food menu. I’m not an oyster person, but I was curious enough to order a salmon roe oyster to go with my “martini” (I don’t think it had any gin). The view was nice, and it’s fun to do posh things once in a while, but I was still wondering WTF I was doing. The pass I gave myself this morning to have an American breakfast had worn off, and I was struck that there was nothing particularly Japanese about this skyline experience, not even the skyline itself.

I walked to Shibuya Station, rode one stop to Ebisu, and walked home. One of my bullet points was checking out the Nakameguro neighborhood just south of Daikanyama, including walking along the Meguro River. It was 17:00, so kind of late in the day but I decided dusk wasn’t too late, particularly because I didn’t think I’d fit it in tomorrow if I was going north again.

The river walk (really more of a canal) was peaceful and pretty, but I kept thinking how much nicer it would have been in the sun. I was really wishing I had planned a little better what I would do today and had committed to exploring the neighborhoods local to my listing.

After 30 to 45 minutes of walking, my back was starting to ache. Ruh-roh… I still had an evening ahead.

I messaged Cindy from Meguro Station as planned, and she said she would meet me at Shinjuku Station. Remember that I mentioned Shinjuku is the busiest station in the world? That’s in terms of passenger throughput, which measures 3.64 million per day. Per day. There are over 200 exits. It took Cindy a while to find me.

We’d agreed on the West exit (not Central West..), and she was waiting outside somewhere. Once out of the gates I didn’t know where to go, so I just stopped and she had to come to me!

It was 19:00 when we spotted each other, and she walked us less than 10 minutes away to an obscure bar/restaurant on three or four floors, all of which allow smoking. Crazy. The proliferation of non-smoking spaces in the States, even in places like casinos, hasn’t reached Japan.

Cindy is taking Japanese 5 hours a day, so she handled the interaction with the host and also the ordering on the touch screen that did not include an English option. I chose a pretty looking plate of sushi. She doesn’t eat fish, so the whole thing was alllll mine. I ordered a hoppy beer that was not only not hoppy but it arrived with a glass mug partially filled with sake. I asked Cindy is the beer really meant to be poured over the sake, and she wasn’t sure but thought so. When in Japan….

We chatted about Airbnb life and she helped me with some useful Japanese phrases. Rather than the literal translation for “Do you speak English?”, the way to ask is “Eigo OK des”, which means, “Is English OK?” Simple enough. I had found two different words for “please”, one of which was long and intimidating and I didn’t know in which situations each should be used. The long one is more polite and appropriate when asking a favor of someone I do not know (please help me) and wasn’t so bad once Cindy explained how to say it. The “u” at the end of “Onegaishimasu” is silent.

After dinner, I wanted to have a drink at Golden Gai, a post-war-era set of narrow alleyways with teeny-tiny bars and eateries, some of which have signs that welcome locals only and exclude foreign visitors who are only going to have one drink and linger for the experience (fair). The one alley we walked seemed to primarily serve food, and Cindy said you have to order food if you want to drink.

We exited and she suggested we visit the Metropolitan Government Building observation deck 45 floors up. I realized later that I wish I’d said I wanted to see more of Golden Gai and maybe find a visitor-friendly spot to have one drink, but I was keen on her idea as well.

It was 10 minutes away, and we arrived to find a line to get on the elevator. My back was barking at me, but the line seemed to be moving quickly. Also, Cindy had never done this particular attraction and was excited to check it out, and her enthusiasm was contagious. While we were in line, she pulled out a small gift for me. As a welcome to Japan, she’d bought me a fan with colorful shave ice on it. Cute and very sweet of her.

We rode the elevator to the observation deck and walked around the perimeter. Night viewing wasn’t the greatest but the moon above made for a nice scene and the view did convey a sense of just how massive Tokyo is.

We walked back to Shinjuku Station, where Cindy had parked her bike, and said our goodbyes. It was super fun to see her and be shown around a little. I thanked her for the gift and the Japanese lessons 🙂

I rode the JR line home, very much looking forward to laying down.

For disc/nerve pain, press-ups are where it’s at. For I’ve-been-on-my-feet-longer-than-my-back-can-tolerate achiness, I do what my PT calls pelvic corrections. Laying supine, I bring one knee up and back toward the shoulder on the same side and hold it for at least 10 seconds. Repeat on the other side and do 4 times each side total.

I did both pelvic corrections and press-ups and checked Fitbit. No wonder my back ached.. I’d walked 23,500 steps, or almost 11 miles!

At 23:30, it was too late for blog writing or photo posting, and I was knackered anyway. Nighty night.

The flight began with what Garuda calls a “chicken fajita”, though it was more like a savory pop tart. I had chosen the seafood dietary preference when I booked, so I asked if there was a fish or meatless option, and there was not. The chicken was in chunks I could pick out, so I ate the thing.

At 1:30 or so, it was sleepy time, complete with “stars” on the ceiling. Nice touch. I switched from my aisle seat to the center and laid down for awhile, as long as I could with the seat belt twisting me up in a strange position. Then I laid down in the other direction. Then I sat up and tried out my new travel pillow, which is supposed to keep your head from bobbing forward and did not do that for me. Then I laid down facing the seats.

Through all this, I thought I hadn’t slept at all, but I must have because suddenly the crew were bringing around the breakfast at 5:30. This time, I got a fish meal with rice and veggies, plus a dinner roll and a sweet roll and O.J.

We landed 35 minutes early at 8:15 (holy shit, I’m in Japan!), and it took about an hour to go through customs, retrieve my checked bag, and exchange my Japan Rail Pass voucher for the pass itself.

I noticed right away the infamous Japanese order and efficiency. There is a right way to do everything, which streamlines every process. This makes sense for a city of 13 million people.

The JR Pass covers 4 of the 6 shinkansen (bullet train) lines, the Narita Express (NEX) from the airport into Tokyo, and many of the lines in and around Tokyo.

I reserved a seat on the next train into Tokyo at 9:45. You don’t have to reserve a seat, but it is recommended. There is no additional charge and no penalty if you no-show. It has to be done at any station’s ticket office and cannot be done online.

When you use the pass for the first time, it needs to be stamped by an agent at the gate. From then on, you always show it to an agent to get through the gates since you don’t have a ticket to insert (they’re like BART or NYC subway gates).

I arrived at Shinjuku Station, the busiest in the world, around 11:15. In another one of my smart planning moves, I had arranged to visit the Tokyo office of Airbnb upon my arrival to take a breather and get oriented before my 15:00 listing check-in.

It’s an easy 5-minute walk to the office from Shinjuku Station if you know where you’re going, but unfortunately my GPS was bouncing all over the place, so I would walk a bit, stop to check my progress, find I was on the wrong block, try again, repeat, repeat. I was trying to save my back some grief, so I had my backpack stacked on my suitcase. The two together are about 45 pounds, and my hand got cramped the longer I dragged them around. Sigh.

It took 30 minutes, but I found the office. Wow, how nice it was to have a place to land, especially one with familiar surroundings and the typical office amenities. I parked my bags and drank some citrus-infused water as I got the tour (didn’t take long.. it’s a small space with about 40 people). There’s a mezzanine working area above the main entry, and I brought some Nespresso up there to do laptop things for a while (mmm… coffee… damn, why did I not drink coffee in Bali….).

I had last done Tokyo research before I left home, so among other things, I looked up to remind myself which local lines the JR Pass is good for. It covers the Yamanote loop around Tokyo, which includes all the major stops I knew of: Shibuya, Harajuku, Yoyogi, and Shinjuku — sweet! I figured I’d have to buy a metro pass at some point for the non-JR lines, but I could get to my listing near Ebisu Station to start (Daikanyama on a non-JR line is closer, about a 4-minute walk, but Ebisu is only about 8 minutes and I wasn’t ready to mess with said metro pass yet). I worked backward from 15:00 to figure out when to leave the office, and to allow for travel mishaps, that was at 14:10.

As I was leaving, I realized I’d forgotten to withdraw cash from an ATM at the airport! Crikey. I tried one at Shinjuku and then noticed the sign indicating no foreign cards were accepted.

I took the Yamanote line to Ebisu and arrived at the listing at exactly 15:00 (I was ready to get settled!). The host’s apartment is next door to the hair salon he owns, and as requested, I found him in the salon. He let me in to the apartment and somewhat begrudgingly showed me how to use the A/C, or maybe he was a bit eyerolly because I waffled on whether I wanted him to. I was warm from the walk with my bags from the station, but it kinda seemed like he didn’t want me to use it. If a host offers an amenity, a guest should feel welcome to use it.

I asked him which direction to walk to eat and see stuff. In his opinion, Daikanyama is the best neighborhood of Tokyo, and he told me about T-Site, a small shopping complex that is home to Tsutaya, a bookstore in three connected buildings, with floors that also sell movies and music.

On his way out, I asked him another thing. I had already seen several bows in the course of the day, and I was unsure whether I should bow back when one is directed to me. I tried to ask him whether I should bow, and he looked at me like I had just sprouted a second head. Crazy/stupid tourist question? Sure, but he hosts tourists. I was taken aback by his unwelcoming gestures.

I unpacked and got settled and did a bit more research before heading out. A key thing I found was a situational language handbook. I downloaded it and learned what would be a very helpful word. “Sumimasen” means “Excuse me” and is a polite way to get someone’s attention before asking for help.

I brought my laptop with me on the walk to T-Site. I had a look around, and the bookstore struck me as being the Powell’s of Daikanyama. Spread across three buildings instead of one city block, it’s a destination unto itself, not just a place to buy books.

I half-heartedly tried to find a geocache outside the second building, but there were way too many people around to make a serious effort.

I was hungry and not sure where to go. I tried Googling but the cellular signal was slow, and I decided to just go to the place right next to Tsutaya. I first asked if they accept credit cards since I hadn’t hunted down an ATM yet and if they have wifi, and the answer was ‘yes’ to both.

It was a Hawaiian-themed joint called Aloha Table whose menu is 3-4 pages of drinks and half a page of food. They have tables outside and the wifi is strong. People-watching and eating poke while writing.. perfect! I got out my purse hook and hung my bag on the table, only to see that a small basket sitting between two of the chairs at my table invited me to place my bag there instead. Cute.

I sat long enough to order a second dish. The sushi roll was surprisingly good. I suppose sushi is good here no matter where you have it. After a while, it got chilly out and my back started to hurt, so as a server passed by, I said, “Sumimasen” and she stopped in her tracks to help me. It works! I made the universal signature gesture to ask for the bill and paid with my card.

On my way back to the listing, I stopped at a 7-11, which are everywhere here, and bought a cheap (less than $5 USD) bottle of tempranillo to enjoy over my four-night stay.

From 20:00 to 22:15, I wrote some more about Bali, then geared up with eyemask and earplugs for an alarm-less slumber.

Some observations and notes about my experience on Bali:

Traffic

The elements of the road — vans, motorbikes, bicycles, pedestrians, dogs — move together as if in a water dance. There appears to be no rhyme or reason but there must be because no one collides.

The van backing into the road gives no fucks about the approaching scooter, and the scooter gives no fucks about the backing-out van. Each proceeds on their trajectory and somehow shares the same space without impacting the other.

One country’s chaos is another’s order.

Bali belly

I didn’t get sick! I left just in time, though. My 💩 became progressively less solid over the course of the 8 days. This could be from the 3 times I absentmindedly wet my toothbrush with tap instead of bottled water, or from ice, or from the fruit and veggies on my plate washed in tap water… who knows. I kept precaution in mind but was not super vigilant, a balance that more or less worked well for me.

Food

Nasi campur is the signature dish. It’s a mound of rice in the center, with surrounding sides of vegetables and meats (if you’re into that). My favorite to order was nasi goreng, a fried egg over fried rice. I don’t normally go for fried food, but this is not french fries. I had it a few different ways: on its own or mixed with tiny shrimp; sometimes the egg was cut into strips. In all cases, I loved it. I also had yellow curry a few times.

My favorite meal was probably at The Cup in Amed. It wasn’t just the fantastic views of Mt. Agung and the sea. Every bite of the fish soup made me say “wow”.

Food is also incredibly cheap. Full meals cost around $5 in Amed and $7 in Ubud.

Money

I thought it would be harder than it was to get used to the very high denominations. IDR 100,000 is roughly $7 USD. Main dishes are around 65,000 and drinks around 25,000. In Amed, there were no additional charges added to the bill. In Ubud, there was tax and/or service fee. I didn’t tip for food but I did tip for the massage and pedicure.

People

I didn’t have the same kinds of interactions here that I did in New Zealand. For the language barrier, there wasn’t as much of an opportunity to get to know the people I talked to. My general impression was one of friendliness, with lots of smiles. Nyoman, the bike tour guide, speaks very good English (which he said is because he practiced a lot.. go figure), and I really enjoyed the window into Balinese culture that came with spending several hours with him. I also enjoyed Wajan taking me up to the back of the Tirta Gangga gardens to explain the light/dark philosophy of the people here. I struggled with vendors wanting/needing to grab my tourist dollars. I was annoyed at the taxi drivers for shouting at me on Jl. Monkey Forest and taken aback by the people selling sand art and T-shirts at Mt. Batur. And I felt guilty for feeling annoyed at their aggressiveness, because with such an economic disparity between us, how else would this go?

Weather

Speaking of struggle… I can’t be in the sun anymore the way I used to, and oh my god the humidity. I grew weary of being sweaty and slathered in sunscreen and/or bug spray all the time. It bothered me more in Ubud, where I did more walking around than laying around by bodies of water, as in Amed. My days there of lounging in the shade of my lanai and in the pool and taking an ocean dip were the ideal way to be in this weather.

Things I didn’t do that I wish I had

Drink coffee

I detoxed from coffee between finishing work and leaving on my trip. I do this annually because I don’t like being dependent on caffeine. What I mean by that is not that I need it for energy; I don’t get a boost or a comedown from coffee, I just really enjoy drinking it. It’s the terrible withdrawal headache that tells me I’m physiologically dependent, and I like to be free of that for a few months each year.

For my trip, I had the additional purposes of 1) not needing to find coffee wherever I was in order to avoid that headache. I could have carried coffee packets, but I had some early mornings on which I wouldn’t have time to sit and enjoy a cup because I needed to get on a bus, which brings me to 2) Coffee goes right through me and makes me pee a lot and only 1 of the 7 or so buses I rode had a bathroom on board.

When I got to Indonesia, I was accustomed to drinking tea and continued to do so, despite the country being a top producer of the world’s best coffee. I had a latte at Seniman and I wish I had had a brewed cup, as well as having a few cups here and there throughout.

Attend a Balinese dance performance

They were easy to get to and occurred nightly at 19:30. I kept thinking I was going to go and then not going for whatever reason at the time. Jeff and Janet went on their first night and said the seats were rather uncomfortable, which likely put me off with all my back issues. I thought I could maybe stand in the back, but not having seen the venue, I don’t know. I did want to experience the expressive gestures of the dance, particularly the eyes.

It was an even earlier wake-up than planned. At 6:00, I heard a phone conversation going on in the room next door where a young American or Canadian had checked in last night. She was laughing and talking *super* loud.

I put in earplugs and kind of slept some more until 7:00, when I went out to the veranda for breakfast and discovered that Jeff and Janet had also been awoken two rooms down from the newcomer, who had come out for breakfast herself.

I introduced myself first and then gently let her know (“these walls must be really thin, because…”) that she’d woken all of us up. I would be checking out today but I wanted her to know for her future and current neighbors to avoid a repeat performance. Zlata (“wow, we both have Z names.. funny”) from San Diego was only staying the one night. I assumed she was up so early for being jetlagged but she has been in Bali for a while and had a 5:30 alarm (?). She apologized, in a way that indicated she was entirely comfortable with her actions. It’s not that her apology wasn’t genuine, just that she wasn’t terribly disturbed about having woken three people up at 6:00.

I tread very carefully in the realm of shame, so I’ve been sitting with the fact that Zlata didn’t feel quite bad enough for me. I didn’t want her to feel like a bad person; I did want her to feel guilty for her impact on us to the extent that guilt offers us the opportunity to do better in the future. I got the feeling that she will be no more mindful of her 5:30am loudness going forward.

I’m considering writing a separate post about what I think of as the space I take up. The balance between doing what I either need or just want and being conscious of the impact that that has on others. It’s come up a lot for me on this trip in situations like this one.

Unfortunately as I packed up all my stuff, my back was feeling achy and the nerve pain returned. Unknown whether I should have done my stretches last night even though I’d done yoga, or if I didn’t modify quite enough in yoga, or both, or something else. The three of us were picked up out front at 7:45, and riding in the van was most unpleasant, even with my lumbar roll.

Our first stop was the Tegenungan Waterfall. Admission was all of IDR 15,000, barely more than $1 USD. There are several viewpoints along the 100 wide steps down to the water. Once there, the feature I enjoyed the most came into view: dozens of rock stacks, or what I have learned all called cairns. I found them peaceful and aesthetically pleasing, both individually and in the clusters that dotted the landscape.

We crossed over the water from the bank where the steps end, using the makeshift bridges in place. The first was a piece of a ship — I called it the pirate board — which was narrow but thankfully not slippery. It wasn’t a long way down but it was certainly wet and would probably hurt to fall. The second was four thick bamboo stalks strung together, which was manageable as long as you didn’t step in the space between them in the wrong way!

Closer to the falls and the rock stacks, we took in the view for a bit. For an additional fee, we could have sat in a tall wooden swing for photo ops or walked up steps to the top of the waterfall, but we opted to do neither.

We made our way in reverse and landed at the top of the 100 steps about an hour after we arrived. We had a seat in a warung overlooking the falls and had refreshments, an avocado “juice” for me. I’d seen this on a few menus and was curious what it would be since avocados aren’t particularly juicy. I decided to find out and, as I suspected, it was similar to the avocado shakes I have at Pho Van, a Vietnamese restaurant in Portland. I think this one was probably blended with milk (and not ice cream), making it thick and smooth and tasty without being sweet.

On the way to the next stop, we passed a gathering of locals and then drove along a street lined with ceremonial offerings. We asked our driver what was happening, and it was a ceremony of some kind. I wanted to ask what the occasion was but didn’t for the language barrier and fear of prying. We stopped for a couple photos, though:

Around 10:15, we arrived at Goa Gajah, or Elephant Cave. Contrary to the name, it is not a sanctuary full of elephants. Rather, it’s an archaeological site of an 11th-century spiritual sanctuary with both Hindu and Buddhist iconography.

We walked down steps into the site and came upon the sunken pool with Hindu statue fountains that was unearthed in 1954, decades after the elephant cave itself was found in 1923. We marveled at the elaborate carvings of faces and animals on the front of the cave and took a peek inside the hellmouth. It was dark and damp and narrow and not too deep. Inside were three carved-out indentations with stone idols and offerings.

From here, we crossed over into the Buddhist garden and temple half of the site and found a small waterfall, a large lily pond, large and brightly colored flowers, and an enormous tree whose roots you could climb among for a photo op.

Having had our fill of the beautiful site, we arrived back at Rumah Jelita around noon. On the way, I thought about the rest of my day. I had stored my bags in Jeff and Janet’s room temporarily. They generously offered me the use of their room, but I had a lot of needs.

When I booked my stay here, I didn’t include tonight since our host, Ketut, was willing to store my bags. I figured I would check out at 11:00 and wander Ubud one last day before leaving for the airport around 21:00. What I hadn’t considered is how sweaty and sticky I would be at the end of the day. I did not want to just change layers to get on the plane without washing off, and then I started thinking about what else I needed. A bed to do stretches on and wifi to refresh my memory on what I would do upon landing in Japan and outlets to charge up all my devices!

I asked Ketut’s sister/assistant Wayan if either the room I’d checked out of (in the center of the three) or the room at the left end of the veranda (where Zlata was) had people checking in today. After some confusing communication that sounded like both rooms would be occupied, I figured out that neither had anyone coming – yay! I think Wayan was offering to let me use a room for free, but I went ahead and booked. I chose the room on the end because it cost $10 USD less (no A/C, which was fine). Such a relief! A slight bummer that I’d packed everything up but for all my planning I could not have anticipated every need and I was just grateful to have the space.

Jeff and Janet were headed to lunch and invited me along (they enjoy my company! 🙂 ). As we walked out the long path from our listing to the street, we passed a construction site next door to Rumah Jelita where the workers had just disturbed an ant nest. All three of us got bit, and those suckers STING!

Again, my neighbors chose a place I hadn’t noticed — a few restaurants lining Jl. Monkey Forest near our listing overlook a rice field in the back, which you can’t see from the street.

After lunch, I needed a pedicure. Not like, “I’m in Bali and pedicures are so cheap and spas are everywhere, so I should get one.” More like, “How did my toenails get so jacked up on this trip?! I better get them fixed in Bali where it is so cheap and NOT in Japan.” The big toe on my right foot had a corner chunk cut out of the nail, and the next toenail over had torn from the side. Eek.

I had a look at a few spas and chose one set back from the street. I took off my shoes outside, sat down inside, and immediately wanted to get back up and out. The inside had an overpoweringly musty and mildewy smell. The nail tech was asking me to choose a color, and I simply said that I’d changed my mind and walked out. Might have been rude or awkward, but I’m working on taking care of my needs while also considering the impact on others 😉 Suffering through unpleasant and possibly unhealthy air was not worth avoiding the nail tech’s confusion or irritation, and I don’t know that she felt either of those things.

I landed on a nicer spa on the main road. The cushy chair would probably be very comfortable for most, but it was an endurance test for my back and the nerve pain Still, my toenails got fixed and painted prettily for about $9 USD, including tip.

When I got back to Rumah Jelita, Jeff and Janet were heading out to their own spa experience, Jeff for a massage and Janet for a facial. On their way, they stopped by my room with their email addresses so we can keep in touch ❤ I hope to see them again in Cambridge one day!

I set about my laptop tasks: delete photos; submit the IT-approved reimbursement request for the charger cable replacement; save the Tokyo addresses for the Airbnb office and my listing in Google Maps on my phone (this would prove to be very smart because the addresses are not memorizable like 123 Main Street); write reviews of my listing in Amed and the bike ride experience; upload/sync of new photos to iCloud; Facebook photo post. None of this was blog writing, which continues to make me anxious.

All the while, I was taking stretch breaks like mad.

On my way out to dinner, I chatted with Jeff and Janet one more time. It was getting on in the evening and not being sure whether I would see them again before I left, we hugged our goodbyes. So glad to have met them.

I walked nearby to another one of the restaurants overlooking the rice field. Back home, I packed up again, showered (YASSSSS), and texted Ketut. He was already out front with his van in the limited parking on Jl. Monkey Forest.

As I rode with him out of Ubud, I noticed the nerve pain had quite diminished. Thank you, press-ups. I think the pain was made worse today by the thought of my impending 7-hour flight, and I was relieved to feel improvement.

It was a little over an hour to DPS, and Ketut dropped me off at 22:20. It was early enough that my 00:45 flight didn’t appear on the check-in board yet so I didn’t know where to go (unlike American airports with counters for each airline, DPS has lettered/numbered banks of agent terminals, which I assume can be swapped out as needed.. I observed this at BCN last year too). I stood and watched the board for 20 minutes (I would be sitting a long time soon enough).

I checked in when I knew where to do so, and as with the two previous check-ins from Portland to Auckland and from Wellington to Bali, the agent needed my flight number out of the country I was going to. When you book one-way tickets, they want to know you’re not staying!

I made my way through customs and before finding food I wanted to make sure I knew where to find my gate. As I walked up the corridor, I started to smell cigarette smoke. I looked around to see if someone had lit up inside an airport terminal, and as I kept walking the smell got stronger. Ah… I see. Here is a large glass-walled smoking area. Funny how cigarette smoke doesn’t know to stay contained inside it. I had just washed my hair, and it picked up the wafting smell, which kind of pissed me off.

Having found my gate, I walked back to find snacks and ended up in the duty-free shop. Between there being only one line that was held up by something or another and the $16.50 USD I spent on Pringles, granola bites, and a tiny half-sandwich, I was quite irritated with this airport.

My mood improved when I boarded my flight. In the mid-section between first class and coach, like my first flight out of Portland on Hawaiian Air, I had the entire 12 seats in the center to myself! Actually, a few filled in before we departed but there was no one behind or in front of me or in my row, allowing me to lay down.

Goodnight and goodbye, Bali.

I awoke at 8:00 with new mosquito bites, as well as sore legs from the bike ride two days ago and all the walking every day (better than feeling it in my back!). I laid in bed with my phone, feeling another rest day happening.

I went out to my table, where Jeff and Janet were already enjoying their breakfast. We greeted one another but took space to sit on the veranda in silence.

I spent some laptop time at the table until about 1:00, composing and finally publishing a post about my birthday two days ago. I love that I’ll have these posts to look back on years from now, so I’m not willing to forego them, and while I didn’t intend to write so much detail, I’m not sure what other format they would take now. Which leaves me anxious that I struggle to keep caught up with my trip, which would in turn interfere with actually doing things on my trip if I had an agenda here. Bali has been a welcome respite from all the touring of New Zealand and what will surely be a busy trek around Japan, and yet it’s difficult to spend time on the computer with so many beautiful surroundings I haven’t seen yet. Sigh.

Each time I’ve walked north on Jl. Monkey Forest, I’ve turned right upon reaching the end at Jl. Raya Ubud. When I set about deciding what to do today, a few different things pulled me to the left. My niece, 18 when she set out and now 19, has been traveling for 4 months during her gap year and was in Ubud almost 3 months ago. She enjoyed a meal at Yellow Flower Café that I commented on at the time she posted about it. I didn’t think I’d make it up that way as it’s a solid 30 minute walk from the listing, but there’s a yoga studio next door (and it’s not the Yoga Barn) and I figured I might have my passport revoked if I didn’t do yoga in Ubud, plus another geocache on the way.

I first walked up and around to Jl. Bisma, parallel to Jl. Monkey Forest but not accessible by a cross street. It had a completely different feel to it, with far fewer buildings and people and an arty vibe, including cement squares with inscriptions running through the middle of the road.

The geocache is “hidden” in a flower vase in the front window of a tourist information shop. The description says there are two people inside who know about the cache, but I found one man who knew and one woman who didn’t know and started asking him a lot of questions about what the hell I was doing. I retrieved the Tupperware box, signed the log, and replaced all of it. Some caches are more interesting for where they bring you than for the hide itself.

I turned around and went back to Jl. Raya Ubud, continuing until it turned into Jl. Raya Campuan, which is where you take the Penestanan steps, a long and steep set of stairs up above the main roads. I came across Intuitive Flow yoga studio first, and I checked the schedule to make sure it aligned with what I’d read online. It was about 2:30 and a 90-minute class would begin at 4:00.

Next door was the Yellow Flower, an organic and vegetarian cafe that supports local farmers and grows their own food and has an open-air, cave-like structure. I love all of that, and it was cool that Nika had been here, but the service was very slow, which I found annoying even though I had plenty of time to sit before yoga.

I realized that I was tired physically, and tired of being sticky with sweat and sunscreen and bug spray, and tired of itchy mosquito bites. This happens every time I visit a tropical destination, and I must will myself to forget so I can keep exploring beautiful and/or relaxing places. Bali has been stunning to the eye, but humidity is not my jam!

I’d forgotten to ask the yoga studio whether they accept credit cards (I imagine they do not). Yellow Flower does not, and I had brought IDR 200,000 with me, which was more than I usually carry but not enough for the yoga class and a lunch dish and a beverage, which was unfortunate because the Yellow Flower smoothies sounded pretty darn good.

I walked over to yoga just before 4:00 and took a mat for our hatha class with Putu Purnama. I haven’t done yoga in at least a year, probably longer, so I modified quite a bit, particularly with any flexion. Delightfully, the session ended with some laughter medicine. Putu said Balinese don’t do yoga every day, but they do laugh with intention and gusto. When he demonstrated, it was contagious and we could not help but follow suit.

A fellow Airbnb employee on his Recharge who also happens to be in Bali (in different parts than I’ve been) recommended an app for the local taxis called MyBlueBird. I registered before I left the listing with the intention of using it to get back. But when I used it to order a cab, the app searched and searched for a driver and I started thinking that the driver I was eventually matched with might not arrive for a while, and Monkey Forest being a one-way I might get home at the same time as in a car, plus maybe walking off the yoga would be good for me. I have not shied away from walking on this trip, and while my back has incurred some inflammation in other ways, it has not failed me in the walking department, which is such a relief after it only lasted 4 of 10 full days in Barcelona last year.

Walking south on Monkey Forest, I dispensed with the sidewalk shuffle and instead walked nearly in the middle of the street, alongside the parked vans and facing traffic. No pedestrians to sidestep or curbs to step up and down from. Just forward motion, and quickly because it was dusk and I hadn’t brought bug spray.

I arrived at home to find Jeff and Janet at their table on the veranda, and we chatted for a bit. Jeff asked how I was getting on eating meals alone, which caught me by surprise, if only because I haven’t experienced anywhere near the level of loneliness on this trip that I did in Barcelona last year. It helped that my fellow solo female travelers shared with me upon my return from that trip their own experience that moments of loneliness are part and parcel of solo travel. It just happens. From there, they invited me to join them for dinner, and I happily accepted.

We all weren’t quite ready to go yet, so I laid on my bed and grabbed the laptop, this time to submit a request to our IT department, which is the initial step in getting a reimbursement for a hardware expense. Oh, yes I am submitting a request for the $21.37 I paid for the new charger cable — it’s not my charger! I took a photo of the bad cable and marked it up to show the fray, and I “scanned” the receipt using an app on my phone that PDF’d it. Amazing what we can do with mobile these days.

Jeff and Janet are much better at finding restaurants than I am, both in terms of actually seeing them from the road and in looking past the pizza and burgers on the menu to find the Indonesian mains. I’d passed Bali Pesto I don’t know how many times without looking at it (probably because Pesto). I had what has become my signature dish in Bali — not the well-known nasi campur but rather nasi goreng. I love me a fried egg on top of noodles or rice.

I’d told Jeff and Janet that I was checking out in the morning but not leaving for the airport until 21:00 and would be storing my bags with our host and then bumming around, maybe taking an Airbnb experience in which you make your own silver jewelry. Walking home from the restaurant, they invited me to join them on a half-day tour of Tegenungan waterfall and Goa Gajah, an ancient sanctuary site. So nice! The catch was we’d be leaving at 7:45 and I had to be completely out of the room.. ugh. They left me to play it by ear, but I knew I wanted to go.

Back at the listing at 10:00, I did just a few press-ups but having done yoga I opted not to do a full set of stretches. I mostly packed up, leaving out a few things I’d need in the morning. And I shared an Instagram post about making an effort to volunteer in Ubud for Airbnb’s Week for Good, during which every single employee gives time to a non-profit or charitable organization. Unfortunately, the Bali Animal Welfare Association requires a 5-day commitment, so the closest I came was doing the bicycling experience as a portion of the guest fee benefits the primary school we visited.

Lights out at almost midnight.

I awoke at 7:00 with a slightly kinked neck, but it barely registered. I simply did not care to pay any attention to it, and thus it did not bother me. Interesting.

Breakfast at Rumah Jelita begins at 7:00 but since it was so early I allowed myself to lay in bed and look at Facebook and Instagram for an hour.

I went out to the table at 8:00 and chatted with Jeff and Janet. Upon my recommendation, they were doing the same bike tour today. Yay! I think they’ll love it.

After the move from Amed to Ubud and Tirta Gangga two days ago and the bike ride yesterday with tons of sun, I was ready for a rest day like the two I’d had in Amed.

I knew I wanted to have laundry done at some point in Ubud. I was really limited in appropriate garments I’d brought to wear on Bali. Some of the lighter clothing was still too heavy. I had exactly two flowy sundresses, both of which I’d worn in Amed, and I wanted to wash everything that I’d worn. Whether I would get my clothes back this evening or tomorrow would depend on what time I dropped them off, and the morning was getting on. I chose a T-shirt and leggings to wear for today — too much clothing but I couldn’t be choosy — and had an as-yet-unworn sleeveless dress, still a heavy piece, for tomorrow if I didn’t get my clothes back tonight.

There are a few laundries nearby the listing but I chose one that was mostly well-reviewed on Google, to maximize the chance my clothes would not be shrunk or stained, as some reviews indicated at all the laundries. Arya Laundry, besides sharing its name with a Game of Thrones character, is near a cafe recommended by my step-brother Zeke and also near Mac Dewata, where I would be picking up my charger.

I once again made the 20-minute trek north on Jl. Monkey Forest and dropped off my laundry at Arya at 10:15. They said I could pick it up at 7:00. Yes!

And with that, the skies opened up and dumped rain. Thankfully, just a few doors down was Seniman Coffee, a self-proclaimed 4th Wave coffee roaster and exporter. Their slogan is, “Imagine you know what you’re doing,” which felt appropriate for my trip. I’ve never done this kind of travel before, and despite all my anxiety before I left, all my planning has come to fruition nicely.

I took a covered seat outside facing the street and watched the rain come down, perfect weather for a rest day. I ordered a latte and a smoothie bowl with dragonfruit, a very Ubud menu item that I had not yet partaken of.

After killing some time, I thought I would go see if my charger cable was ready. They said they’d text me but I had a feeling it might be done without them letting me know. Sure enough, it was all fixed and they showed me it was working. I paid IDR 300,000 or about $21 USD. Continuing to have the use of my laptop for the rest of my trip is a relief!

I walked back home for some veranda laptop time and chatted with my neighbors upon their return from the bike tour, which they loved for the same reasons I did, mostly the window into Balinese culture and the opportunity to ask questions to learn as much they wanted.

I checked in with Wajan as to whether he still planned to be in Ubud this afternoon. He was a half hour away, so I decided I’d get ready and meet him out front on my way to the Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary. It would be about 16:45 and the forest closes at 18:00, but I didn’t think I’d need a lot of time there. I knew it would be people-y, for one thing, and for another, monkeys are fun to watch but there are some strict rules about how to be in their space. I got out that utility belt because they quite commonly snatch people’s bags or what’s in them and will bite if you try to stop them. Really, my motivation for going was it was nearby, a classic Ubud experience, and I would have done something other than laptop time today (full rest days feel like a waste of time! balance is hard!).

I went out to the street to meet Wajan. He gave me the battery pouch and I gave him another IDR 100,000. He was already holding cash, maybe to give me change?, but I didn’t want any. He shook my hand, and I put my other hand on top, which somehow turned into an awkward hug. I’m not sure which of us leaned in, and it felt somewhat unearned, like neither of us was feeling any warmth behind it, but I guess I can’t complain about too many hugs in this world.

It was after 17:00 when I got to the Monkey Forest entrance at the south end of the road, and they ask folks to start making their way toward exits at 17:45. I kinda figured I would go one direction until it was time to turn around and then amble slowly back to the entrance, but the staff is on to that trick. They post people up along the paths after the closing announcement is made and usher visitors out multiple exit points.

That was fine. I’d seen plenty of monkeys; tried unsuccessfully to get some good photos, with or without me in them; and it was dusk in a forest, so… skeeters.

Facing the 20-minute walk to Arya Laundry again, I treated myself to a gelato to enjoy on the way. I arrived at 6:15, 45 minutes early but my clothes were ready for pick-up. Yes! I paid the IDR 50,000, or $3.50 USD, for my ~20 pieces. Awesome.

Despite the accidental more-than-doubling of the cash I’d requested from the ATM in Amed, I’d spent just about all of it and stopped to withdraw some more, calculating how much I needed based on how much I’d spent already (another purpose of “laptop time” is money logging.. I keep track in regular life and I make no exception for travel). It would be IDR 300,000 for my Airbnb host to drive me the 1-1.5 hours from Ubud to the airport, and another 700,000 should be just about right for the next 48 hours. I’m a millionaire again! For a minute.

The round trip walk from the forest north and back south to my listing was about an hour and made me quite cranky. Not only was I sticky sweaty and carrying my fairly heavy laundry on the way back, but by this point, I was over this walk. Mornings are manageable, but afternoons and evenings are just crawling with people that don’t fit on the sidewalks, which are broken so you have to look down while you’re walking. I often feel I’m the only one paying attention all the way around me and thus yielding when needed, which is often. The men looking to sell tours and rides in taxis and on motorbikes are relentless in their pursuit of business, parked at nearly every storefront and doorframe and shouting for the attention of any and all passersby. I would be completely focused ahead and have someone shout “TAXI?!” at me from across the other side of the road, getting my attention in a disorienting way. The women selling spa services were not as aggressive but were just as plentiful and relentless. It all wore me down.

Additionally, I was feeling an unfamiliar pain in my back.. maybe in the tailbone? This was a reminder that not only had I not done a full set of both stabilizing and strengthening exercises since I’d left New Zealand, I hadn’t done any press-ups in two days because I’d been feeling better. Prevention is the best medicine!

Per my comment above, I spent some time doing a thorough accounting of my money, both abroad and at home (monthly expenses go on, don’t they) before heading out to dinner. I will not eat pizza, pasta, tacos, burgers, or sandwiches; however, earth vibe Asian is acceptable, so I ended up at Soma Cafe at a table on an elevated platform that had not any chairs but rather a long lengthwise cushion and which was illuminated by lanterns. I had pumpkin with tempeh, rice, and peanut sauce, and some greens on the side, plus some green juice.

Back at the listing, I wanted to catch up on blogging but I was knackered. I made some notes instead, put the laundry away, and did a full set of my PT stretches. As has become my custom, I showered off the sweat, sunscreen, and bug spray before bed.

Somehow, it was nearly 1:45 when I turned the lights out — what happened to my Amed schedule?? (I suppose an uncomfortable bed with a mosquito net didn’t invite staying up on my devices, and I have a comfy situation here. 🙂 )

🎶Happy birthday to me🎶

I stepped on to the veranda and sat at my table for breakfast. The gentleman at the next table/room introduced himself and we chatted a bit. Jeff and Janet just arrived last night from the UK. As in Amed, the breakfast menu was exclusively Western. I very rarely eat sweet dishes for breakfast, but I went for the banana crêpe, which was thicker than I’d expected and arrived with chocolate drizzle. Yum.

As I got ready to go, I discovered I’d left the mesh pouch to my Anker portable battery (without which my iPhone charge would not last a full tour day, between navigation, photos, and video) in Wajan’s van. I had checked the back of the van to make sure I’d brought everything, but I’d jumped out of the back seat in a hurry and didn’t check there. I could have done without it, but: it’s nice to keep the charger cable inside the pouch rather than loose in my shoulder bag; I hate to leave anything behind; and given my chat with Wajan yesterday, this seemed to align with the idea of me giving him some additional cash. I took a screenshot of the pouch online, sent it to Wajan in WhatsApp, and he confirmed that he’d found it and that he would be back in Ubud tomorrow afternoon.

My chosen activity for the day was (Birthday) Biking through Bali’s Hidden Beauty, an Airbnb Experience. As Airbnb homes are more localized and personal than hotels, Experiences are group tours but less cookie-cutter than with a tour company and are borne out of the host’s passion for the activity or skill.

I had packed specifically for this day my leather utility belt (similar to this one from the same Etsy shop owner). You know, like a fanny pack but bad-ass. It came in handy in Amed when I walked out to dinner at the beach and all I needed to bring was a little cash and my phone. Ultimately, I decided I had too much stuff I wanted on me that wouldn’t fit in the pouches, like my hat and bottled water and the Anker.

At 8:45, I walked out to the entrance on the main road to await my ride, which didn’t show up until almost 9:00, which was unusual in my experience with other drivers here. It would be the first and last element of the tour day that wasn’t absolutely perfect.

Groups are limited to 6 to maximize a positive experience for the guests, and today the group was just myself and one other person, Maddie from Kent. Sweet!

At Warung Tepi Sari, we met our host/guide, Nyoman, and had an opportunity to use the loo. Our first stop was at a primary school that a portion of the tour fee benefits. Nyoman went to school here! He and four of his grade school buddies started the bike tour business to live their passion and give back to their community. It was 9:30am and the adorable 1st graders were on their way out of school and home for the day already because it’s exams week for all the grades. The 6th graders were still taking their exams, which we could see from a peek into the classroom, but we didn’t disturb them.

Hindu shrines are everywhere on Bali, and I pointed to the one on the school grounds to ask about the offerings of flowers and incense that I’ve seen on the statues and in front of shops. Nyoman said they’re placed daily for good fortune, and today they include a bit of food, like crackers and coconuts, because it is the new moon.

The next stop was the Dewi Agrowisata coffee plantation. We received a tour of the cocoa and coffee trees, a cage of 3 luwaks, and the roasting area. Luwak coffee is made when the animal (which looks like a cross between a raccoon and a fox?) eats the coffee beans that fall off the trees, digests the outer layer, and poops out the rest, which is then collected, boiled twice, and roasted. I shit you not.

We were shown to a covered balcony with tables overlooking a green valley and served with both a coffee and tea sampler tray and some pineapple and mini-pancakes. Second breakfast! The pancake syrup was served in a teeny banana leaf. Adorable. The sample included: Bali coffee, 100% cocoa (just add hot water), ginseng coffee, mangosteen tea, vanilla coffee, rosella tea, turmeric tea, ginger tea, lemongrass tea, and coconut coffee. Maddie paid for an additional small cup of the Luwak coffee, which is reputed to be very smooth.

As we ate, I told Maddie it’s my birthday today, and she couldn’t believe it had taken me so long to mention. I’m not usually shy about making a big deal out of my birthday every year, because I have a grand time parading around like a special princess. I told Jeff at my first breakfast this morning, and I don’t know why I hesitated with Maddie.

Back at the warung, I had also for some reason warned/confessed/pre-apologized to Maddie that I take an obnoxious number of photos and videos. By the time we ate breakfast, I was comfortable enough to tell her, “Oh, you’re way worse than I am,” as she Instagram Storied her cup of Luwak.

We were allowed a leisurely amount of time to finish our drinks and food and take photos and were then shown to the gift shop. There was no pressure to buy anything, and it was the only stop on the tour where any additional cash might be needed. I have no space in my bags, but I bought a small pouch of the turmeric tea, pre-sweetened with honey and cinnamon, because I love it.

Next up was Mt. Batur and Lake Batur. Maddie showed me on the map how far north on the island we’d ridden. I had no idea we were going so far up! It was overcast and the summit of the mountain was shrouded in clouds but still a beautiful view from the lookout. The other thing I will remember about this stop is the people selling T-shirts and sand art because of how very aggressive and even desperate they were. I prefer to make eye contact and say ‘no thank you’ but that was not working no matter how many times I tried, which left me to cut them off and walk away. Complicated Western tourist feelings are complicated.

At almost noon, we began our bike ride descent through the countryside a bit south of Batur. I learned that the van we rode up in would be following us down, so I could leave my bag inside and ride unencumbered. I could have brought my utility belt after all! I had only a loose pocket in my Thai Elepants, so I thought I would hold my phone while I rode. Nyoman was not about that for safety reasons (OK, fine) and offered to hold my phone in his bag. Had I worn my belt, I probably would have photo’d and video’d my way down the mountain here and there. As it was, I retrieved my phone at stops but mostly I experienced the ride with my eyes and not through a screen. As a bonus, Maddie was packing her phone, a point-and-shoot, a GoPro, and a drone!

And I’d been worried about being obnoxious with my phone. At a few points on our downhill bike journey, Maddie paused at length to set up her gear, either the drone or positioning her GoPro on her chest harness. She never once apologized for the amount of time it took, or even said ‘thank you for waiting’.

So it seemed I was overly concerned about the space I take up in the company of someone who has never considered the amount of space she takes up. I think the ideal balance to strive for is somewhere between: we can often replace ‘sorry’ with ‘thank you’. I think some awareness and gratitude on her part would have gone a long way and would be healthier than my impulse to apologize were I the one taking up others’ time.

Ultimately, I was glad that she was documenting our experience so many different ways. She offered to share the footage with me via Dropbox, which I am super excited about as we rode through such a variety of beautiful vistas: open rice paddies, both harvested and awaiting harvest; one of the Indonesian president’s homes; small villages with children smiling and waving, and shrines, and papier-mâché gods; main towns that allowed us to become part of the chaotic traffic patterns I’ve written about. We made stops at a community temple and a family compound housing 19 people. At the latter, we paused for tea and peanut crackers and learned about family life there.

The conclusion of the three-hour ride was back at Warung Tepi Sari, where tables overlook yet another gorgeous rice paddy. We were given a fresh bottle of cold water and a cold, wet cloth for freshening up. Nice touch! Lunch was a generous portion of nasi campur, mine with tempeh.

A few more photos and then we rode back into main Ubud. Maddie showed me some of the GoPro footage, and it looked amazing.

[Update from the future: I had a feeling in this moment that I was never going to receive Maddie’s footage. She is 22 and the most impressively self-involved person I’ve ever met. I believed she had the best of intentions but would not follow through, and that unfortunately proved true. We exchanged Instagram messages, and I asked twice over the following months for her to share her footage, and it never came.]

The tour was scheduled from 9:00 to 3:00, and I arrived back at the listing at 4:00. As with Frank’s wine tasting in New Zealand, it was nice that the host guided his guests through the experience at a leisurely pace rather than minding the clock.

The only other thing I had planned for the day was to drop my charger cable at Mac Dewata. I carried my laptop with me (in its wool sleeve.. ugh) so as to test the cable upon being fixed, but I arrived late enough in the day that they needed to keep the cable overnight, plus they have their own Macbook Airs for testing.

From there, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself and I was carrying my laptop with a 45% charge that I was saving for emergency use. I wandered a bit and noticed that my neck and shoulders felt a little tight, probably from carrying too much stuff in my shoulder bag on a daily basis. And then suddenly, I saw all the spa signs. I mean, I’d seen them already, but I guess it’s like car advertising on TV.. you just ignore it unless you’re actually in the market for a car. Of course I will have a birthday Bali massage!

There were many, many to choose from, and the one that attracted me had “family” in the name and it was set back off of the alley I was meandering through. I chose the most basic menu item, a traditional Balinese massage. I was first led to a cushy chair on the outside entry, and a basin with warm water and flowers was brought out. A man took my shoes, cleaned my feet, and provided me with a pair of flip flops to wear inside a small room with two massage tables. He gave me time to undress and I got on the table face down.

A traditional Balinese massage turned out to be the standard massage I am familiar with, what we call in America a Swedish massage, which was just fine. The pressure was firm but not too much, and I relaxed thoroughly without falling asleep, as often happens. I was surprised when I turned over halfway to find that my massage therapist was a woman! I didn’t realize there had been a switch.

I dressed and went back out to the tiled entry to find a tea tray awaiting. I sipped my tea and Googled tipping practice. I hadn’t been tipping for meals as it’s not expected but I was glad I looked up spa service tipping because it is more customary. I wanted to tip my massage therapist directly, as suggested in the posts I’d read, but the man who’d greeted me when I arrived explained that it was his wife that had massaged me. A true family business. The massage price was 90,000, and I gave him an additional 30,000 to give to her (or however they arrange their business, I guess). The total of 120,000 is about $8.50 USD. Jaw-dropping.

Before dinner, I wanted to drop off my laptop. I stopped in the same pharmacy where I’d bought dental floss sticks because I’d seen frangipani essential oil but didn’t have any more cash on me at the time.

After being curious about the fragrant flowers with a yellow center and white petals that I was seeing everywhere, I looked them up and learned that what the Indonesian call jepun is called variously in English either plumeria or frangipani. A-ha! I knew plumeria was associated with Hawaii, and frangipani was some kind of Eastern plant, but I hadn’t put it all together before.

I bought both a frangipani oil and some Tiger Balm, the white ointment rather than red as I’d never used it before. Apparently, in Asian cultures, it’s used for everything. Insect bite? Tiger Balm. Upset tummy? Tiger Balm. Headache? Tiger Balm. Chest congestion? Tiger Balm. And of course, muscular aches? Tiger Balm!

I regrouped in my room, looking through photos from the day (alas, very few of mine came out well).

For dinner, I landed at Juice Ja. I pretty much gave up on the idea of having authentic Balinese cuisine here. The closest I got tonight was linguini with jasmine tea-soaked raisins.

Back in the listing, I showered off the sunscreen (got a little burnt anyway on my right shoulder and elbow, as we rode south with the sun to the west) and bug spray and the massage oil out of my hair. I shared some social media posts captioned “Gettin’ my kicks at 46”, and the birthday greetings began coming in from home as the morning of the 14th began there, my dad via text and several posts to my Facebook feed. My fellow traveling friend, Francesca, who also has family in France and is thus keenly aware of time differences, had sent me greetings just as the bike tour day began, which was lovely.

And I put my birthday to bed at 00:45.