The epic of Mt. Fuji

This is long, a story of sorts. Possibly an epic as far as travel blog entries go. It has pictures, but mostly story. It’s important to the plot of this story that when I told my dad I was going to climb Fuji, he laughed and asked me what mountains I’ve been climbing before (none). He then told me to make sure I turned around before I got too tired to come back down, and basically said there was no way I’d summit because Fuji is a beast and I am but a tiny girl.

On the bus there, I met Dan. Dan is a funny Australian traveler who is in Japan by himself. Over the weekend in his hostel, he’d met a buddy who convinced him to come climb Fuji for the day. The bus was to arrive at Station 5 (the base) at 10 am and their return bus left at 5 pm. They were also on separate buses because, even though our bus was half empty, the website they had booked through had shown that both buses were full.

It quickly became apparent to me that Dan and his friend were greatly underestimating Fuji. Firstly, it’s not likely that you can summit Fuji and get back down in 7 hours (not to mention we ate when we got there, so more like 6.5 hours). Furthermore, Dan had worn pants and a T-shirt and brought nothing else. His friend had worn shorts and a T-shirt with nothing else. Dan had never heard of altitude sickness and didn’t even know it might be a factor in their climb.

The mountain huts on Fuji also only accept cash, no credit cards. And every bathroom charges you 200 yen (about $2) to use every time. So you have to bring plenty of money with you, or carry your own water and food for the climb and hope you never have to pee. I don’t know for sure, but I suspect they did not have a lot of cash on them. We had lunch, I put everything I didn’t need for Fuji in a coin locker at the base, and we set off on the trail together. However they quickly pulled ahead because of the time issue. I wished them good luck.

The first part of the trail was easy and pleasant. I saw old couples strolling along and families with kids slowly meandering down the path.  I thought to myself: Easy peasy. If kids and old people can do it, I can do it.

I hit a fork and asked the attendant which way to the summit, and he pointed to the right, smiled, and waved. The incline started to get a little steeper after the fork, so the cool air felt great when it blew across my arms and face. I passed an older gentlemen with his wife and we made eye contact. “Ganbatte!” He said. Roughly translated, this means “Work hard!” or “Do your best!” I smiled. “Hai!” Little did I know this brief interaction set the entire tone for my climb.

I hit Station 6 a little out of breath, but by no means tired. They gave me a map in English of the Stations and Mountain Huts along the trail, along with distances and time estimates to each. I thanked them and headed up the trail. Then suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, I hit switchbacks. Steep and gravelly switchbacks that forced me to stop and catch my breath every few rotations. There were no more kids or old people, just resolute-looking Japanese youths and eager young foreigners trying to power their way up as fast as possible. I took the slow and steady approach, but I still had to take a lot of breaks on the way up.

When I hit Station 7, I was winded, sweaty, exhausted, and starting to get cold. At the top of the stairs stood Dan. “This is as far as I got, unfortunately.” He said. Sure enough, altitude sickness. He said that he had tried to climb the rocks beyond Station 7 and started feeling like he was going to throw up or pass out. The buddy had gone on ahead, but I never did find out if he made it or not. I bundled up, wished Dan luck, and continued on.

After Station 7 I wished for the switchbacks. It was all rock climbing. Not the kind you need equipment for, but definitely the kind where more often than not you have three and four points of contact and you are hauling yourself and your backpack up a steep slope of loose rock. You are doing this for hours at a time.

At every Mountain Hut I stopped to rebalance and get acclimated, but that can only do so much. I was starting to cough and wheeze and produce way too much mucus. I had to stop all the time (although, so did everyone else it seemed). I was pouring sweat, but it was getting very cold and I didn’t dare take off a layer. I was wearing boots, thick socks, long underwear, long pants, a shirt, jacket, and hat.

By the time I hit Station 8, I was basically in survival mode. My brain had shut down and my body was on autopilot, just moving upward, upward, upward.  All along the route people said hello, good afternoon, do your best! It was really nice that we all seemed to belong to this community all trying to accomplish the same goal for ourselves and encourage others.

I could have stayed at any of the Mountain Huts past 8 for the sunrise summit, but I wanted to get as close as possible so my being in the dark time would be limited. After 4 solid hours of hardcore climbing, I ended up at the second to last hut to the top, which was about an hour and half to the summit. My legs were killing me, and I couldn’t stop coughing. I paid $87 dollars US for a room, dinner, and breakfast. They also said they’d wake me at 2:30 am to begin the climb to the top.

At this point I’m feeling pretty exhausted, but pretty good about myself. Here I was, an hour and half to the summit my dad told me I’d never make, sleeping and eating and still alive.  Yeah, I feel like crap and I’m kind of wondering why I wanted to do this, but whatever. Here I am and I’m obviously going to make it. Hard part is over!

We had curry rice for dinner and they gave us a bento box for breakfast to take up with us. The rooms were not rooms at all, but giant sleeping halls where mats were set on top of wooden slats, one right after the other, with blankets and a pillow.

I don’t know if it’s Japanese people, or people at a high altitude, or both, but the snoring was insane. One guy actually sounded like he was choking to death, I don’t know how he didn’t wake himself up.

Regardless, I was so exhausted I actually managed to get a few hours of sleep in spite of the free concert. I had set my alarm for 2:00 because I wanted to get up and out a little earlier than everyone else so I wasn’t fighting the crowds. But someone or something woke me around 1:00. I shifted in my inadequate blankets and oh, holy fuck. My legs hurt like I have never felt before. Every time I moved them, it was like a bone deep swelling of pain, almost akin to flu aches but about a 1,000 times worse. And it wasn’t just one muscle group; it was every leg muscle I had. I wondered if I’d even be able to finish and, if not, how would I get back down? My arms were killing me too. Hell, even my stomach muscles were all pulled from coughing so hard.

I gingerly crawled out of bed, every movement bringing a new wave of agony. But the more I moved, the slightly better it seemed to get. I grabbed my bag and took it to the coin-operated bathroom where I dressed in two shirts, two coats, two pairs of thick socks, and my long underwear and pants. When I came out of the stall, the mountain hut boss guy was standing there. “Climb?” He said, and pointed upward. I nodded and he shook his head. “Danger.” He said, and made a cross sign with his arms.

In broken English and with my limited understanding of Japanese, he told me there was a big storm and high winds, and they were stopping all the climbers until morning. It was true that the wind had been howling all night, shaking the panes of glass in the windows and swirling around a thick fog. But I had just assumed that was Fuji. I looked down the mountain and, sure enough, there were people dressed in yellow vests with orange wand lights stopping people. I asked him when I’d be able to leave, and he said to watch the sunrise at the hotel and then summit.

I went back to my room and sat on the floor to do the math. My bus in the morning was leaving Station 5 at 10:00 am. Sunrise wasn’t until 5:30. If it took me an hour and a half to summit and the three and a half hours they said it would take to get back down, then I would miss my bus. I could not miss my bus, because my flight was leaving Narita at 6 that night and I needed the time to get to the airport. I wasn’t going to summit.

All that hard work for nothing, I thought to myself. I heard dad’s voice in my head telling me I wouldn’t make it. I rubbed my unbelievably sore legs and started to cry. Then just as quickly, I got pissed. I’m the only one who decides what I can and can’t do. If I didn’t make the top, I knew was going to regret it for the rest of my life. I would always look back on Fuji as a failure after getting so close.

I watched out the window for a while and most the climbers were stopping, but some were continuing on. Which meant that the people in the yellow vests couldn’t physically stop you, they could only advise you not to go. I opened the door to a white couple as they passed. “Are you guys going up anyway?”

The girl nodded. “They said not to, but…” She shrugged. They kept walking.

All I needed to hear. If I’m going to die on Fuji by being a stubborn asshole then that’s what’s going to happen and everyone else is going to have to deal with it, I thought as I pulled my boots on. But just then mountain hut boss man walked by and looked through the window to see me getting ready. He opened the door and stood over me. “No climb!” He whisper yelled at me.

“Uh, no. Not climbing.” I grabbed my bento breakfast box and gestured up toward the dining hut. “I was just going to eat this upstairs.”

He seemed to calm down a little and nodded, but he still shone his flashlight down as he stood over me. “Take off shoes.”

I unlaced my boots and put on the slippers they provide for us, and then he walked behind me all the way to the dining hut. He gestured down at the group of climbers they had stopped. “Many people stop.” He said to me. He held the door open for me, then stood in the corner and watched me eat.

When I was done I went back down to the sleeping hut and tried to figure out an escape. Boss guy was standing between me and the rest of the mountain, watching people as they defied his orders and continued on. I finally just came to the conclusion that I paid for this room and this guy was not my jail keeper. He wasn’t going to ruin my one opportunity to summit. I put my boots back on and hauled my bag over my shoulder just as he and another guy came into the hut to wake everyone and tell them what was going on. He argued with me for a while, but as soon as someone else distracted his attention I slipped out the door and into the night.

The wind was pretty damn wild. Because of the mist, every surface was wet, including anything you had exposed after a few minutes. I avoided any drop offs because I knew the wind could probably blow me right over one if I wasn’t paying attention. At the next (and last) hut they stopped us, telling us that the summit was an hour away and there was a very bad storm and we should wait. I slipped by as he was talking to two other girls and carried on.

It’s not like I was the only one. Lots of people were stopping and waiting but many were also going on like me. Looking up, you could see the occasional headlamp and looking below you could see them ascending in lines. Many of the people were climbing in groups, with the random couple here and there. I was the only one I saw climbing by myself.

It was freezing, and we were climbing into the crazy wind. People were resting every few feet and every once in a while a huge gust of wind swept through and everyone stopped what they were doing to hug the nearest surface and keep from getting blown over. The moments when I was too far from anyone to see anything outside of my headlamp were the scariest. The landscape on the top of Fuji is like being on the moon. It’s barren, covered in loose volcanic rock, and black or red in color. Just you, your small circle of light the only thing you can see, and white mist covering black rock while a violent wind beats you in the direction of a steep drop into nothing is pretty damn scary.

The last 45 minutes or so, it was sheer stubbornness pushing me on. The storm was bad enough that I knew any pictures would be worthless; I just wanted to know I’d done it. I couldn’t not do it. After what felt like an eternity of blowing my nose and coughing, the final torii came into sight. I summited Fuji at 3:30 am on August 26^th, 2014, and I’m not going to lie to you… it felt good. I felt proud of myself.

It was cold and wet, and I took shelter in the Mountain Hut at the top. I spent my last Japanese yen on a hot tea, which I knew was a bit risky as I still had to get back down and to the airport, but I felt like I’d earned it.

Celebratory summiting tea

When I was done I ventured back out with the intention of circling the crater, but nature put an end to that quick when I realized the wind on the crater was going to pick me right up and toss me off the mountain a lot faster than I was looking to get down.

Some people decided the summit was a good place for a quick nap

I went back into the hut, but they tend to frown on you being there if you’re not going to buy anything and my tea was void since I left and came back. A British gentleman noticed my distressing lack of hot beverage.

“Tea or coffee?” He asked me.

“Oh, no thank you. I spent the last of my money.”

“If we can’t help our fellow man…” He said, and pulled out 400 yen. I got a coffee and we talked for a while. Jeff was from the UK and his favorite trip had been America, weirdly. He’d bought a clear plastic suit at the base in case it rained, and when he put it on he looked like something out of Planet 9 From Outer Space. He insisted I take a picture of him. He was also the only other person I saw crazy enough to summit alone that day.

When the sun rose we went outside, but the mist just made it white instead of black. There was still nothing to see.

The last torii from above in the mist

I lost track of Jeff and decided to head back down. When I hit Station 9, suddenly everything cleared. I didn’t even notice until the group in front of me all suddenly went, “Ahh! Ohh!” I looked up to see the entire world stretched out at my feet. It was so beautiful. I looked back up to see that the summit was still covered in clouds, so we were the only ones getting this view.

Descending Fuji

The way back down was all switchbacks, a few degrees too steep to walk down. You either tiptoe, run, or do this sort of ungraceful slide on top of the loose gravel and hope you don’t fall. The later was my preferred method, while most seemed to choose tiptoeing. I’m sure I pissed people off as I slid past them in a barely controlled surfing style. It wasn’t that I was fit or energetic or excited, I was in a race to see if I could get off the mountain before my legs gave out completely, which they threatened to do with every shaky step.

I didn’t stop once on the way down and when I hit where the horses were at the bottom I knew I’d be okay. I figured I could go where horses could go. I found the 5^th Station and had a few hours to wait, so I walked into a shop to buy water and some food. I was starving. But apparently they only take cash at Station 5 too, and with no ATM on the mountain I was shit out o’ luck. I mostly just relished in the act of sitting and tried to stretch my legs as best I could. I found a 2x2 patch of WiFi strong enough to call my dad for 2 minutes and let him know I made it down alive. I sat at the restaurant and didn’t order anything (cash only), just people watched.

About an hour before the bus was to leave I figured I’d better get my stuff out of the coin locker and maybe change. I stuck my hand in the side pocket where I had stuffed the key, but… no key. I stuffed my hand in the other outside pocket. No key. I panickedly stuck my hand in every other pocket in my bag. No key. By this time I was freaking out, turning every coat pocket inside out, pulling everything out of my backpack, cursing in English to myself. There was a Japanese couple in the locker room watching me spaz out, and the guy cautiously approached me. “Lost key?” He asked in pretty good English. “I must have left it on the mountain somewhere!” I practically yelled at him. He picked up my coat to help me look through the pockets, but found nothing.

“One moment.” He said, and returned with a staff member who’s English was also pretty good. I explained the situation to him, and he asked me to look again. I explained I had pulled everything apart looking for it. “There is a fee of 2,100 yen for lost key.” He told me. “Yes, okay.” I said, and showed him my bus ticket. “I’ll pay whatever, but I only have a credit card and my bus leaves at 10.”

“Ah, credit card.” He put his finger up. “One moment.” He came back a few minutes later. “No credit card, so we ask that you maybe borrow from a friend.”

At this point I was on the verge of tears. “I’m here by myself. I climbed the mountain by myself.” I told him. No longer proud, I just felt like an idiot.

In the end they gave me a bank account and an address, all in Japanese, and told me to get the money to them when I could. But that if it was too hard, not to worry about it. I couldn’t believe how nice they were about the whole thing. They even had to take the lock off the locker to get into it and get my stuff. I thanked them profusely, red with shame. Grabbing all my stuff, I shoved it in my bag haphazardly and left as quickly as I could. The bus stop was right outside, so I just collapsed on the ground in front of it.

My stomach growled and reminded me that I did just make my body do a lot of work with very little reward. The only food I had was half a chocolate bar in the top compartment of my bag left over from Station 8. It didn’t seem very appetizing, but it was better than nothing. I dug it out and munched on it pathetically. I had nothing much to do but people watch, but pretty quickly I noticed a guy and a girl making direct eye contact and coming straight at me. I looked away, but the guy stopped right in front of me and knelt down to eye level.

“Everything okay?”

“What? Yes.” I said. I was confused.

He smiled at me and shoved a huge, hot bao into my hands. Bao is a soft steamed bread bun filled with meat, usually beef. They are one of my favorite kinds of Asian food. “For you.”

I couldn’t tell if this guy thought I was homeless or what. I had luggage and nice clothes on... “Oh, no! Thank you, but…”

He just shook his head and smiled. “For you.” He said again, then stood back up and walked away with (I assume) his girlfriend. That was when I realized it was the guy from the locker room who had helped me look for my key before finding an employee for me to talk to. I was in such a panic I had barely even looked at him.

By the time I figured this out, he was half way across the courtyard and practically out of sight. I immediately burst into tears. I just sat there crying on the ground while I ate the bao and everyone stared at me, but I didn’t care. It was such a touching gesture, and it was my very last impression of Japan. I vowed to do something as nice for someone else someday.

And that is the end of this tale. I’m in Toronto now and head back home in the morning. From sharks to communists to owls to Fuji, I’ve had a hell of a time and I hope you guys enjoyed reading about it. Here’s looking forward to the next one!

The insanity that is Tokyo!

Yesterday the sun rose and shone right through our floor to ceiling window and seared through the green curtain to make the room hot and bright at around 7:00 am. So we dragged our asses out of bed and onto the computer to a message from Aya saying we should meet two hours earlier than we had planned the day before.

Aya is a lovely native Japanese woman who was 17 when she came to live with my parents and I in Elizabeth, Colorado. She is in her 30’s now and found my dad and I on Facebook a few years ago. When I knew I’d be coming to Tokyo, I asked her if she wanted to meet for coffee or lunch and she was down. When I found out about the Owl Café, I asked her if she wanted to go with us and she was also down.

She suggested we arrive an hour and half early, which I found to be overkill… until we got there and there was already a line forming. Aya called to me from about seven people back. I didn’t even recognize her! After sixteen years, she looks completely different. Like a real adult. We chatted in line for a bit until they came out to sign us all up. Because Aya had insisted we get there early, we got in the first slot at noon.

When you walk in, you are immediately met with HUGE owls sitting in a line. They look stuffed, until one turns its head and blinks at you. You move further into the room and sit at either a counter or on the couch, where smaller owls are all around. You are required to order one drink, included in the price of entry (about $20 a person) and they explain the rules to you in Japanese, and hand you a rule sheet to read in English.

A staff member must move all owls from their perches to you and back. The owls can only be pet on the head or down the back, and you must keep your grip on their tethers at all times while holding them. Some owls cannot be touched (for instance, one was born blind and doesn’t like to be held). If an owl starts to get “flighty”, you simply hold them up high above your head and they will settle down. They show you pictures of how the owls are raised. They are born and bred in captivity and socialized to humans from birth. And fed mice meat by hand. They seem pretty spoiled.

Meanwhile, the owls are all looking around at the people who are staring at them. They don’t seem freaked out, just curious. We were right next to the tiny owls, whose giant owl eyes shifted from us to each other constantly. They stretched and looked at the ceiling and, in general, were just adorable.

 When they set us free, everyone (including us) went for the big owls. 

Aya got a black and white speckled owl that looked intimidating as hell, but was actually just a baby. 

Coston started with one of the smaller guys and moved up to a barn owl. 

I got a big ol’ guy whose species I have no idea about. But he was heavy as hell, mellow, and liked being pet on the back. 

When I felt like he was getting tired of me (I would have never gotten tired of him), I gave him back to one of the staff and moved along to the smaller owls. They were more energetic and would not stop turning their heads, so getting good pictures with them was difficult. Still, I think we did okay.

At the end, we drank the drinks we’d completely forgotten about while they gave away little owl themed gifts. There was a limited number of each item, so if you wanted it you raised your hand when they brought it up, then played rock, paper, scissors until there were victors and vanquished. I had my eye on an owl necklace there was only one of, but I was quickly defeated… by Aya. Who gave it to me when she won it. I won owl chopsticks, which I gave to Coston, and he got an owl badge that he gave to Aya. In the end, we all walked with prizes and awesome pictures.

Afterward we ate lunch at a place with a flat grill in the table where you cooked your own food. After that Coston and I had to run across town to catch the Robot Restaurant show. We were trying to figure out afterward how we might describe this show to someone who hadn’t seen it, but… words fail here. Robots and girls in bikinis with various, vague storylines in half Japanese and half English; it was basically two hours of major overstimulation and weirdness.

Soulful sax robot was my personal favorite.

When the show was over and our eyes adjusted back to the normal visual spectrum for human beings, we went to Shibuya Crossing, which is widely considered one of the busiest crossings in the world. There is a Starbucks on one corner where you can watch from above as people cross. The people watching is top notch.

We turned in early because we were exhausted. The next morning was the same situation. Out of bed at 8, we packed and took the subway to Yoyogi Park where we visited Meiji Shrine. It’s so insanely peaceful there, sitting in the middle of a massive park with deafening cicadas where people come to pray and center themselves. I told Coston that if I lived in Tokyo, I would be there all the time.

Fountain for ritual cleansing of hands and mouth.

Prayers written on wood and hung in the morning ceremonies.

Check-out was at 11:00 am, so we didn’t have too much time. We went back to the room and grabbed all our stuff, ate some breakfast at a nearby café, and got on the train. A few stops later, we parted ways. Coston had to go back to Okinawa for work on Monday. It was sad to see him go. We’ve been so together for the past two weeks that it feels strange to be alone again. I am still in Tokyo staying in a traditional guest house for tonight, and then I move on which is why I am doing this massive update now.

To close out my trip, tomorrow I will get up at 6 am to take a bus to the base of Mt. Fuji, which I will be climbing on my own for the next two days. I won’t have any internet access (or phone access, for that matter) until I get back to Toronto on Tuesday night. I will do my best to do a final update at the airport there. If all goes according to plan, I will be back home and exhausted Wednesday morning.

I can’t wait to see you again friends. It’s been a real non-stop whirlwind and I’ve done so much over the past few weeks. I have many gifts for you and many stories to tell, and I look forward to sharing them over your drink of choice.

See you soon!

Diving and Leaving

Yesterday Angie took me to a dive spot called the Toilet Bowl. Not an attractive name, but a beautiful site complete with black cliffs and crystal blue water. She told me that she normally wouldn’t take a beginner to that site because it was fairly challenging, but that she felt like I could handle it.

This, of course, made me feel awesome.

The original plan was to enter at the bowl and exit at a point further down the cliffs, but the very experienced guy we were diving with had scoped it out and said he thought it was too rough. Seeing as I could hear the waves breaking from where we had parked, I agreed with him. We suited up and hauled all our gear through some muddy greenery and over a volcanic rock bed to the bowl, where the sea flows into a scoop shaped cutout in the cliffs. You throw your fins in the water, put your regulator in your mouth and jump from the ledge while holding onto your goggles so they don’t fall off. When you surface you grab your fins and pull them on while the waves surge you to and fro. Then you’re ready to dive.

This particular site has been the subject of much excitement in the local Okinawan diving community because for the past week, some very large sharks have been frequenting it and, depending on who you talk to, acting much less skittish/possibly more antagonistic than in previous years. Angie said we had a good chance of seeing them because they fishermen were out, and they chum the waters which, in turn, attracts the sharks.

Sure enough, not 30 seconds into the dive Angie turns around and makes a fin on top of her head with one hand, pointing with the other. I look out into the murky blue infinity to see a huge shark, maybe 7 or 8 feet, slowly drifting its way toward us, becoming sharper and clearer the closer it got. And it got close. The rumors were true, these sharks were in no way afraid of us tiny humans.

But their behavior wasn’t so much aggressive as it was curious. They saw us, they swam toward us, but they always meandered in another direction before getting close enough to really interact.  Nevertheless, there is no way to describe the feeling of seeing evolution’s perfect predator in the wild swimming toward you out of the open ocean while you float totally out of your element backed against a coral cliff face. It’s exhilarating and terrifying and humbling all at once.

We saw the sharks many more times. Angie said that at one point she reached down for her diving knife because she felt like one was getting a little too close and squirrely. I did not have a knife. But the sharks only swam close enough for us to admire them. This dive site was different in that it was too deep for us to hit the bottom. Instead we swam along side a vertical rock face reaching far above and far below us with only sweeping ocean on the other side. It had a lot more life than the one we went to before, and far less tourists. More than once Angie pointed out a fisherman’s line that we had to avoid getting tangled in. In addition to the Bat Fish, Clown Fish, and the Urchins we saw before, this site had an octopus hiding in one of the crevasses who didn’t seem very intimidated when we got close, only shrinking up a little as we approached, but still rolling his legs all around. There was a giant Lion Fish, and a Mantis Shrimp, whose claim to fame is that they can chop their claws at the speed of a bullet being fired from a gun. They are almost impossible to keep as pets because they are constantly breaking the glass of aquariums.

We stayed down at 60 ft. for almost 40 minutes before my air started running a little low. When we surfaced, we had to climb out of the bowl and back to the rocks while still strapped into all our gear. To do this, I took my fins off the threw them up to the ledge, then got ahold of the uppermost rocks I could and waited for an incoming wave to push me upward. When it receded I held myself up and let the water fall away, then climbed up onto the ledge.

We still had to knock out one more dive, but it was just getting a little too rough for us to do it there. So we piled back into the van and drove to the other dive site we’d gone to the day before.  The last dive was short mostly because I was exhausted and beat to hell. We did our remaining skills, swam around a bit, and got out and back. I am now officially certified to dive without an instructor.

When I got back I showered the ocean away and packed what stuff I could. I tried to look up the bus schedule in Okinawa because Friday was going to be my only real day to explore the island. Every other day had been taken up by diving and we were leaving for Tokyo Friday night. But for the life of me, I could not figure out the damn buses. The idea had been to be fully packed in the morning before I left, arrange a rendezvous point for Coston to pick me up somewhere in town and we’d go straight to the airport. But I didn’t sleep well, and I was so beat up from diving that I just opted to sleep in.

I woke up at 12:30 after a night of weird dreams in a weird mood to an e-mail from Coston. He had let a friend borrow his car the night before, and it had been impounded this morning. He said he was working on getting another car to get us to the airport, and to just go out on the town like I had planned. But by then it didn’t seem worth it, so I just finished packing, showering, and cleaning. His friend picked us up at 1:30 and drove us to another friend’s place where we got her keys and her car to drop us at the airport.

We had a little extra time, so we got to see what I really wanted to see anyway, Shuri Castle. Built in the 1400’s and obliterated in WWII, it’s been restored on the original foundation and sits in the middle of Naha, one of the two main cities on Okinawa. It's extremely picturesque.

Have had one amazing and action packed day in Tokyo, but it's bed time. I'll update on that when I can. Loves, loves, loves.