I woke up to the sound of squawking crows, which at first I thought was a harsh laughter of an old lady. Cold air leaked through the screened windows of mom’s apartment. Those little things would make me say quietly to myself, “shit, I’m really in Japan.”
Mom prepared breakfast: sausages and buttered toasts.
The sun here is hot but the wind is cold so it’s the perfect weather for walking. We had planned to visit Hirotaka and gleefully decided not to take the bus and go there on foot. I was being introduced to the streets. Bicycles, cool cars, plastic flowers adorning the light posts, old people and their dogs, old people on their bikes, schoolgirls, futuristic buses and cabs, unusual building structures and the occasional Filipino passerby. Everything was pleasant, safe, orderly and quirky.
I have memories of Hirotaka’s place because I stayed there with my late grandmother when we visited mom 18 years ago. It looked the same but older. Even Hirotaka. Or even me. Mom gave him the low calorie lunch we had bought and left after a little chat.
Lunch at Red Lobster was putanginangly heavy. That’s all.
I was so excited to get into my first densha experience. We went to Kameido and Kinshicho stations and walked around 4 malls: Sun Street, Termina, Olinas and Yodobashi. I bought some magazines and uh-hum, my first Canon L-series lens, uh-hum.