Kyoto

 Monday, July 29, 2024

           We arrived last evening and, this being our third Kyoto foray, found our way out of Osaka airport, to the trains, and then through Kyoto station, and to the hotel quickly. Recognizing sights on the train ride made me smile. This was the first time back after covid.

The foot with the stomped-on toe throbbed more than it did either Friday or Saturday and I limped dragging a suitcase behind me. The station and the hotel we normally book into were unrecognizable. Flooded with tourists like they’ve never been in previous summer visits. It felt too much, and we ordered in and fell asleep early. 

            This morning though I’ve tried slowing down with cups of tea in bed, I feel overwhelmed. Almost as if I don’t know who I am, a mini-identity crisis. In Naha I was a karateka, my days determined by the training. Wake, breakfast, train, shower, nap, dinner with dojo friends and family, and sleep. Repeat. 

Now I am merely a tourist. Here three days feel open to be filled with endless possibilities (on the fourth my friend will take us to a tea plantation). I have a list of less touristy gardens and temples, of pen shops, and matcha cafes, and eateries recommended by previous visitors or researched by us, to explore, but I have a toe that slows me down to snail’s pace and a feeling that I don’t know how to transit between karateka and tourist. Something of the former lingers and sticks. The mind does not want to let it go and wants more. This is the first time this transition has been so hard. Perhaps it is merely fear of not being able to walk far and fast. And that slowing down is also slowing down my mind from shifting into another mode. Perhaps the size of unfamiliar crowds is scaring me. Maybe I’ll know at the end of today. Part of me wants to hunker down in a café, or even this room, and just write and another wants to not ‘waste’ the days here. 

Of course, my father’s words, Don’t be afraid to waste your life, remind me that what feels like a waste is not. But then on holiday with my spouse who has been sedentary while I trained, makes me feel guilty if I don’t wander in productive ways — even though I know he won’t really mind. 

I know I could just go through a slow meander through the museum next door or go to the station area and find that fairly quiet garden after picking up some food. Or go to the main city where The Loft, and nice tea shops are located. 

A crow had been cawing last evening when we arrived, and I woke to its sweet cawing again. We’d forgotten to pull down the vertical blinds and the room brightened early. I’m suddenly realizing that amidst the anxiety of having a plan, is a quiet happiness of not needing to. 

I hear the shower stopping and I will stop writing and get ready to go to breakfast. The day will unfold as it needs to. I’ll be, we’ll be ok.