We’re on a train in Japan again.
After I came home from studying in France, I had dreams for years that I was back there, living with my French family again, enjoying the food and lifestyle I’d learned to love. I’d find myself crying in some of the dreams, so overjoyed to be with my family and back in France.
Turns out Simone had similar dreams about Japan, starting just a few days after our adventure back in 2014. And she hasn’t stopped thinking, or talking, or studying about the country, its food, literature, and language, since. So when we started discussing a graduation trip in the summer, all she wanted to do was return to the place where she felt so happy and at home.
Our easy, (but sleepless) 11-hour nonstop flight into Narita put us there right at 3pm, and it didn’t take long for us to clear customs and hop the express to Shinjuku, the busiest train station in the world. The trip from the airport into the city was about an hour long, and Simone grinned the entire way, enthralled by the narrow streets and peaked roofs of Chiba.
“Dad, we’re here!” she kept saying, breathless and joyful.
And then we were dragging our bags through the busy city, laughing and pointing out food we wanted to eat and shops we wanted to visit. Of course, the first thing we had to do was find a vending machine with bottles of milk tea.
Like old pros, it didn’t take us long to find the hotel, check in, wash up, and get back to the crowded streets of the Shinkjuku neighborhood in search of an early dinner. Every spot looked better than the last, but it was the little conveyor belt sushi place that finally drew us in.
We drank hot tea and put away plate after plate of nigiri pairs, not bothering to identify the fish or sauces that came our way. Whether it was fresh, deep red tuna, some kind of white fish with onions, or a weird, crunchy diced number in a sort of mayo, we happily pulled everything off the belt that made its way by.
Even though we hadn’t slept for a good 20 hours, we both knew 7pm was too early to head back to the hotel. Plus, we still needed to find dessert. So we did the thing we love best — wandering aimlessly from street to street as the sun went down and the lights came up, strolling Tokyo at night and going wherever the crowds flowed around us.
Falling asleep that evening came easily, both of us with happy tummies, more than content with our first evening back in Japan.
Navigating the ticketing and transfers to get us to the bullet train the next morning proved to be drama-free, and this time we were sure to pack up a full bag of snacks and beverages (fluffy yakisoba buns, turtle cake pastries, shredded dried squid, two kinds of cold green tea, and even a Kirin for me) for the extended train ride down the coast and up into the mountains to Takayama.
And now, here we are, just transferred from the Shinkansen to a much slower regional train, with giant windows and comfy seats, winding our way through lush, verdant sharp mountains under puffy clouds and patches of blue. We’ve been without wifi since we left Tokyo, and it’s been glorious to just talk and plan and meander from conversation to conversation together.
When Simone and I visited Japan in 2014, it was the first time I felt like we were traveling almost as equals — not only did she have a say in where we went (and even researched some of our stops), but she was just as likely as I to find the right sign to guide us to the proper track or platform on the subways and commuter rail lines.
But this trip is already entirely different. We have travelled together since Simone was seven weeks old, and though we’ve learned each other’s cadences (or, more likely, developed them between us), I’m not exploring a foreign country with a kid anymore. Simone’s stamina for walking a city is nearly equal to mine, her ability to recognize when she’s tired or hungry manifests in a request to find a snack or take a break (rather than a meltdown), and her stake in where we visit, what we do, where we eat, and how we get there means she’s taking an active role in navigation, time management, and planning.
It’s awesome.
And it tells me so much about her ability and readiness to travel and live on her own. I have no doubt she could navigate a big city or an unfamiliar landscape with the same sort of grace and calm assessment she’s been using since we arrived at Union Station in Denver to grab the light rail to the airport.
She’s truly a young adult, and though it scares the hell out of me to think of her on her own in just a few months, I’m also reassured. Sure, she’ll make mistakes and occasionally find herself in difficult situations, but that’s part of the learning process. Even I still do stupid things fairly often.
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We traveled for hours along and through lush, loamy Japanese mountains dense with deep green deciduous trees, and it was so peaceful and easy that I felt compelled to put my computer away and just sit with Simone, staring out the window and taking in the river valleys with their rectangular rice paddies, dotted with green sprouts and the occasional bright white crane. Our seats were reclined completely and Simone had her head on my shoulder. Occasionally, we’d pass through a tunnel, and our contented mugs would be reflected in the large picture windows, my scruffy, unshaven face and her moon-shaped one, with our matching brown eyes and far away expressions.
Without a wifi signal, I couldn’t do the work I’d planned for the long ride, and our phones were useless. We had books to read and magazines to page through, but preferred to just be in the quiet moment, watching the wisps of fog and pointy mountains drift by.
We spent the next day wandering through the rain and exploring the mountain town of Takayama, snacking on street food whenever we came across something interesting — savory dango skewers, hot and spicy Hida beef buns, salt and butter Baum cakes. In soggy shoes, we explored the shrines and temples on the edge of the city, and finally found warmth and comfort in a tiny noodle house.
And now, we’re headed to our beloved Kyoto for a brief visit before we drop into Osaka for a few days. Then it’ll be a quick stop in Enoshima (home of one of Simone’s anime, known for its aquarium and bowls of white fish over rice), before we wind down our trip back in Tokyo.
Every moment is filled with a mix of joy and sentimentality — a tenderness amidst the adventure. We don’t know when we’ll take another trip like this together, or what the coming months have in store, so we’re making the most of our time, more patient in our foibles than usual, and more in tune with each other’s moods. It’s lovely.
I think of how I’d return from another big trip to a foreign country or visit to a new city, and the first thing my own father would ask was, “Yeah, but what did you eat?” I look forward to asking Simone just that as she ventures off on her escapades. She’ll regale me with her dining details and we’ll reminisce about “that one time in Takayama” when we put off buying umbrellas because we thought we didn’t need them, getting drenched through when the gentle mist turned into a total downpour, searching for a dry place to drink something hot and warm up.
We’ll laugh together for a moment, and then I’ll say, “Okay, but what did you eat?”
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