Diary 59

06.17.26

After two weeks in northern Vietnam, we flew to Tokyo, Japan, the polar opposite in terms of noise levels, cleanliness, and overall organization. People wait at crosswalks until the light turns green, even if there aren’t any cars in sight. The subways are intensely crowded, but the train cars themselves are silent. If you miss your first train, daijobu desu! (no worries), there’s another one less than two minutes behind it. It’s rare to find a public garbage can on the street, and yet no one litters— the sidewalk is immaculate. I could ramble on and give a hundred observations like these, but altogether it feels like Japan’s government operates with efficiency, public safety, and individual well-being at the forefront of their considerations. Bear in mind this is just my first impression—I’m a mere plebeian in Tokyo—and my perspective may be intensified after spending the last two weeks in Vietnam, where essentially, anything goes on a motorbike, be it running a red light or jumping on the sidewalk to bypass traffic, or fitting 5 people and a dog on one scooter. I’ve gone from a country that thrives on chaos to a country that thrives on cohesion within a five-hour flight and am still making sense of it all.

06.18.26

Visited The Museum of Contemporary Art Tokyo for a retrospective of Hiroko Koshino’s work. This included a red gallery, “Passion for Textiles—The Love of Creation” full of apparel we could actually handle, which felt criminal. I don’t have an educated understanding of high fashion, but can appreciate meticulous weaving and embroidery. I was mostly interested in how she utilizes layering and negative space in her designs, creating fluid, regal silhouettes.

Also, this Discover Japan commercial from 1970 was playing on a loop in one of the galleries and it’s gotta be the cutest commercial I’ve ever seen.

06.22.26

We took the Shinkansen (bullet train) from Tokyo to Kyoto and spent the first afternoon taking a long walk through the rain, along the Kamogawa River. There are some lovely residential areas along this path: homes with lush flower beds and potted plants out front, traditional Machiya houses, compact urban homes with big circular windows inviting natural light. The street running between them is quiet, narrow; an exceedingly peaceful walk under the acoustics of an umbrella, the sound of rain pattering above your head.

06.23.26

I’ve been spending a lot of money on really beautiful paper in Japan. There’s a plethora of stationery stores made all too accessible by public transit, so I’ve been doing the full tour, heedless of the number in my bank account or the space in my luggage. Some of my favorites so far:

Papier Labo: A boutique stationery shop in Shibuya selling letterpress, paper incense, pen stands, stone paperweights, stab-bound journals etc.

Kyukyodo: One of the oldest stationers in Kyoto. This place has a broad collection but I mostly noticed calligraphy tools, washi paper, incense, and folding fans. Also sold individual sheets of paper which I appreciated. Sometimes you want to write one letter to one really special person on a very specific and thoughtfully-selected piece of paper!

Kamisoe: Located in the textile district (Nishijin) of Kyoto. It serves as a studio and storefront for the owner, Ko Kado, who specializes in karakami. He carves intricate motifs into woodblocks, then uses natural pigments to print these designs on paper. I bought a set that feels too precious to use. There’s also a great café next door located in a renovated public bathhouse from the 1930s.

06.24.26

Back in Tokyo for the last week of our trip. Last night we went to an art show in Shinjuku to see JT’s friend’s work. I split off from the crowd afterwards to grab dinner on my own, then went out with my headphones on and observed the frenzy of crowds, gave myself to the steady hum and cadence of the city after dark, walking around like a woman who knew exactly where she was going—until I got to the train station. Then I couldn’t hide the fact that I was lost. Shinjuku station is huge, and there are an overwhelming number of colored signs for different tracks, with Japanese characters and symbols I obviously couldn’t interpret. It’s information overload and the crowd of people walking into & out of the station move as one living organism, in a steady stream, so that it’s difficult to move over to the side and pause to make sure you’re going the right way. I walked in circles, took a couple wrong turns, but inevitably figured it out. Maybe I was just a little buzzed and confused.

06.25.26

Went for a run at 10:30 last night on the Kitazawa River Green Way, a verdant residential path along a meandering creek. At this hour I saw a couple other runners, a man I assumed was walking home from the bar, eating greasy fried food out of a paper bag, teenagers filming themselves, someone preparing to sleep on a bench for the night. Everyone finishing their day in a different way. I think we’ve all been a version of each of these strangers at some point in our lives.

Earlier I was reflecting on how safe I feel in Japan. I’ve seen kids who must be five or six years old taking public transit on their own, walking themselves to or from school. Of the runners I saw last night, two were women running alone. It infuriates me that public safety isn’t a higher priority in the U.S., that we have a president who incites violence rather than quells it.

06.26.26

In the background of the latter half of this trip, there’s been an approaching typhoon. This hasn’t limited our ability to get around or do what we want to do, it’s just been ~a situation~ trying to stay dry. JT’s shoes are entirely soaked through. We have to hang up our clothes to dry when we get back to our rental, or throw them in the dryer for a cycle. The umbrellas we bought from 7-Eleven are small and flimsy but just functional enough that we haven’t swapped them out for better ones. ‘Tis typhoon season!

06.30.26

On the flight home I watched Come See Me In The Good Light, a documentary on the poet Andrea Gibson navigating their cancer diagnosis with their partner. If you need a film that reaffirms your purpose on this planet, that reminds you that love is a life force, time is finite, and language is inexpressibly powerful—that language, in fact, is everything—watch this.

From Gibson’s poem “Guardian Angel Fish”

Anyone who thinks poetry is frivolous, has never needed someone to
tell them something unspeakably hard,
beautifully.

Image 01: A knife I made in Da Sy Village, a blacksmithing village in Hanoi.
Image 02/03: Lilium ‘Magnifique’ seen on my walk along the Kamo River.
Image 04: Cold soba noodles with citrus + rice milk lemon soda at Sonoba.
Image 05: Karakami paper from Kamisoe.
Image 06: Journaling at PASS in Shibuya on the last night of the trip.