A taxonomy of my bag collection

A couple of years ago I bought a large metal shelf with wheels so I could stack my magazines on it for easy access when I would scan them for @glossyarchive, my Twitter archiving project. When I was done scanning everything, I started selling a good number of them to make space and raise some funds for personal needs. The issues I wanted to keep, I stored in a big box. And as for the shelf, I wheeled it into my room so I could deal with the Bag Situation—which was finding a way to store my bags that would be accessible and OCD-proof. 

It's been a total lifesaver. I got these boxes that fit perfectly stacked two by two in the middle shelf, and they have front latches so it's super easy to take out the bags and put them back. Lots of space so nothing's sticking together, and they're safe from dust, and I put silica gel everywhere. Like I wrote before, I've been reframing my mindset so I'm less precious with them and I can enjoy using them like I should.

I've been really excited about this new development, so I decided to gush about the bags in my current rotation.  

mango small saffiano effect shopper bag (left) and crossbody bag with pockets

When I first felt secure enough to buy slightly more expensive bags, I turned to Mango. Their bag line is full of quality basic pieces in sleek and simple styles that are just my type. I love anything with two front pockets, and it's something I reach for when I have a night out. At 10 inches the shopper bag is not too small or big, just the right size for a day where I'm on the go and I might have a lot on my to-do list but it doesn't really include lugging my laptop around. It doesn't have a clasp, just two easy-to-reach-in compartments with a zip-up pocket in the middle for the valuables.   

Shocker of all shockers, I'm not really an impulsive buyer. I'm often in an infinite tailspin before I finally decide to buy something I've been eyeing. When I bought my Canon G9 X, my dad had thought it was out of nowhere, especially for such a big purchase. But he didn't know that I'd had it on my wish list for a couple of years, and only took the plunge when I realized it was about to be phased out and unavailable for good. The same has been true for these bags—I convince myself I don't need them several times until they go on sale and I'm like "Y'know what? Fuck it." 

side by side mini-bag by j-hope

I'm not a fan of chain bags at all and I wish the strap offered more options for customization. I had to use my dad's pliers for a better fit, for one, and I got a fan-made version with the "Blue Side" cover art as the pattern and its strap is detachable with clasps that make it so much easier to adjust and store. There's another fan-made dupe that has a denim strap instead. But still, this bag will never stop being special to me. It's such a clear indication of known bag lover Hoseok's keen eye for detail, style, and design and it would be so exciting to keep seeing what he could come up with. (We need those fashion collabs or a full-on streetwear line!) I love the chic, dreamy tie-dye and the sweet little "made by hope" tag. It's compact but bigger than you'd think, and the front pocket is the perfect place to put your camera when you're traveling or out and about.  

coach pillow tabby 26 

When I first bought this I thought I was "settling" for it. We were at an outlet and it was the only color available, but I really wanted a Pillow Tabby so I couldn't pass it up. But it didn't take me long to realize how much I love this color. I'm immediately drawn to this shade now, especially Prada's Re-Nylon shoulder bag. My dad pointed out that my mom had loved it, and in my head I call it "Cinderella blue." Just so classic, charming, romantic. The dark metallic hardware and the softness of the bubbly padded leather are adorable to no end. 

maverick & co. noelle boxy

I went through a phase recently where I absolutely needed a spruce green bag. Did you know you can filter for color on Zalora? I went on it and did just that, which is how I found this little darling. It was smaller than I thought and the strap is definitely not crossbody-length like advertised, but it's exactly what I was going for and it has all the space you need for essentials. 

eve & adam hanni

I also stumbled across this style from a local brand during my spruce green phase, but when I first found it, the dark green was sold out. So I just decided to forget about it—until one day when I found myself looking at it again to check out the new pink shade and saw that they somehow have one available! Forgotten stock, maybe? Either way, I didn't hesitate. I'm obsessed with its shape and the texture of the vegan leather, and I can't wait to see what else Eve & Adam releases. 

saint laurent baby cabas

You've heard all about this. <3 

kate spade boxxy

Okay, I swore I'd hit my bag quota when I bought the YSL, but I checked Zalora one day and found that a local retailer had the exact color I wanted in stock for a very reasonable price. (I had searched back in March and nothing had come up then!) And, well, I had been telling myself that it would be the final thing on my list, and I could rest. I'd had an eBay link bookmarked and everything, but it was located in New York and I just didn't trust or care to spend so much for international shipping. So really I would've been a fool to let this go. 

And it's everything I ever dreamed it would be! Super cute and lightweight. There might not be a lot of space, but it's well-designed so it's easy to wear and actually use. A unique statement piece for sure. 

donkie connie

I needed a dressy crossbody for traveling, and the day bag to end all day bags: the one I would reach for any day, any time, for any situation. "Expendable" thanks to its price but still a step above casual. After a search that's been longer than I care to admit, this style from Korean brand Donkie has finally given me exactly what I wanted. It's not easy to find an affordable leather(ish) bag with a strap long enough to actually be crossbody on me—the designer and more upscale ones have been more inclusive in that regard somehow. It's super soft and roomy, and it even has front pockets! 

the ones i can grab and go

Continuing the "expendable" theme, these are the bags I would choose for grocery runs or a long, heavy day of travel. My favorites are dupes of Kipling's Ron, because you won't ever catch me spending P6000 on an original. Even if it's barely bigger than my palm, it has about six compartments that safely hold everything I need, including two cameras, and it never feels bulky or heavy. Other nylon sling bags of all shapes, sizes, and colors (mostly army green) go in this category, as well as a trusty Fossil bag that's been with me through the good times and the bad and was the catalyst for my dual-front-pocket obsession. Finally, a Marikina-made double handle crossbody in emerald green that cost me like P300 and has been a pleasant surprise, if only its edges were properly sealed. Still, it looks pretty good and I've been so much fun with it. 

You could get what you want or you could just get old

Yesterday I wanted a tiny cake. 

Not a bento cake, although I have tried them once or twice. I’m talking about the pre-made three-inch cakes covered in sickly-sweet, powdery frosting from a cake stall you’d often walk right past at the mall. If you can’t quite understand what I’m referring to, I don’t blame you. You wouldn’t know they were even there unless you stopped and really looked, past the Barbies wearing heavy chiffon skirts (I celebrated my seventh birthday with one) and the racecars sporting shiny red fondant paint jobs. They’re usually displayed in a line beneath the glass counter, and people don’t typically peruse specialty cake stores unless they have a reason to. 

My first taste of these treats probably counted as more of a cupcake, years before cupcakes really blew up as a trendy dessert. My mom managed the showroom of a Maco Kuchen in Shangri-La Plaza, and sometimes I would get to visit after school and close up with her, after which we would take the MRT home. On the fifth floor on our way to Shaw Station, we would stop by the Art Cakes stall just before the exit and buy character cakes—deep, dark chocolate batter baked into palm-sized aluminum cups and decorated with the faces of cartoon characters. We’d get Tom and Jerry, or Tweety and Sylvester, or Elmo and Cookie Monster. 

The cakes came with plastic forks, and even after twenty years my sense memory of them is so strong that sometimes it feels like a phantom limb: my teeth scraping against smooth plastic, frosting on my lips, the dense, slightly bitter chocolate cake complementing the saccharine buttercream. 

I don’t remember which came first: my mom leaving her job at the showroom so she and my dad could start their own business, or Art Cakes’ closure. Either way, this routine we had eventually became just another thing we used to do. 

I got to have them again once or twice over the years, delighted at the discovery that the Cakes ‘r’ Us near me had little cakes, too. They no longer came in cups or frosted with animated icons, but they tasted just the way they used to in my childhood memories nonetheless. Most of the time, though, I let myself pass the shop and the cakes by, either too preoccupied with the life I’ve come to live or too shy to come up and just buy one out of the blue. 

The last time I had a tiny cake was five years ago, bought on a whim from a similar type of cake shop in Megamall on a day when everything seemed to be falling apart and I found myself turning to any source of fleeting comfort I could think of. It was a new year and I had just gotten diagnosed with depression and I didn’t want to go home just yet, so I decided, fuck it. I went up to the stall, picked a cake out from the day’s display, and took it down to the food court. It was decorated on the sides in stripes of different colors, the frosting piped downward, the top of the cake a plain pale lavender and framed in dollops of chocolate frosting. No pastels, no patterns, no rainbows, just vivid shades. 

And it tasted the same. Of course it tasted the same. I ate less than half and took the rest home, and I showed it to my mom and we laughed about me being silly and nostalgic and spontaneous. I asked if she wanted any and she said she would have a bite. 

When bento cakes became popular, I adored them for their cuteness and how creative they could be: puffy frosted flowers, faux watercolor, even the chic minimalist ones with short and sweet messages piped neatly onto solid colors. But every time I take a bite, I just end up missing the flavor I know best: like yesterday’s birthday cake, just a tad more bittersweet. In more ways than one.

I can’t remember the last time I passed a cake stall at the mall. There are the fancy bakeshops, sure, only they never have exactly what I’m looking for. In my mind I want to believe I can walk into an SM and find another one. I can even picture the exact places I’d try to look. But I’m pretty sure they’ll no longer be there. Just another thing we used to do, just another thing I took for granted. Just another thing I can’t bring back from the life I was lucky to share with my parents.

(Recently I realized I’ll never have a 13 Going on 30 “Vienna” scene because my parents won’t be there when I turn 30.)

The tiny cakes I grew up with weren’t as sophisticated or pretty as bento cakes. They were kitschy and colorful, piped with standard, impersonal greetings: “Congratulations!” “I love you.” “Happy birthday!” Not much room for personalization. (Literally. They were too small.) But they were cheap and they were still cute and they were good, the perfect last-minute pick-me-up for a celebration with someone dear to you—or for yourself when days felt too ordinary or too gloomy. 

What I’ve learned from them—and my mom who always shared them with me—is that I don’t need a special occasion. There’s always a reason to enjoy the little things. 

Desire and reward; long term and short term joy

August 2

Never had my life been more akin to a whirlwind than when I landed at Changi Airport with nothing but a backpack that held two days’ worth of clothes and the barest essentials. 

Two weeks before, I had flown to Kuala Lumpur to see The Strokes at a music festival, and we had decided to make it a weeklong family trip. On July 22, it was announced that the rest of the music festival would be canceled after its first day. 

The Strokes were headlining the third and final day. 

I don’t want to get into it, but let’s just say I’ve prayed for the main loser from The 1975 to trip and fall flat on his face every day since then. I burst into tears in the middle of a mall, trying to come to terms with the fact that my one chance to see this band that has meant the world to me in over 10 years of loving them has just popped like a bubble. The KL trip had been fun, but this was why we were even there in the first place. These were their first Southeast Asia tour dates in their twenty-plus-year-long career, and now one of them had just been taken away by utter stupidity. 

I’d come home, gone back to work, and successfully held my tongue from any expletives in front of my coworker who’s a 1975 fan when The Strokes announced a few days later that they were adding a second show in Singapore to make it up to people who were supposed to see them in Malaysia. 

It would be insane, right, to spend an exorbitant amount on another concert ticket, another round-trip flight, another hotel (wait, no, not “another,” we literally stayed with my aunt) just for five men in their forties who changed not only rock music in the 2000s but also my life? 

Anyway, my flight was in five days. 

It was late when I arrived at my hotel in the chic neighborhood of Lavender. I still had a bit of a cold—the whiplash of making all of this happen in less than a week included overcoming a horrible fever that I had to deal with all weekend (with the help of my doting dad <3). 

The room was small and windowless, but cozy. I especially loved the black and white Brooklyn-style bathroom of my dreams, with brick-like tiling around the walls and gorgeous floors. I got settled and rested up for the night. 

August 3

I didn’t include this day when I filed my leave, so I spent until the afternoon working on my phone—I hadn’t brought my laptop, and I’d made sure to finish the major tasks before I left anyway. I walked around the neighborhood to look for breakfast, and I decided to stock up on food and snacks at 7-Eleven: chicken bolognese, an unagi onigiri, a rainbow chip brownie, and some really good instant mac and cheese in a cup.

It was also the time when “Planet of the Bass” was mega-viral, so I can’t think of this trip without being reminded of it. 

I met with Alissa at a coffee shop in Marina Bay Sands before the show and had a lot of fun just talking at length about all kinds of things and getting to know each other better. It was the first time we were hanging out and meeting in person, and I had a great time and I’m always hoping to get to do it again. 

Eventually it was finally time for me to go down to the expo hall for the show. I was near the back since I’d waited until the last possible second to go in, and that was just fine by me. As far as venues went, it was pretty cool: huge space, super high ceilings, but the stage was set against the center of it and it somehow felt like an intimate basement show. (Which, well, it kind of was.) 

I couldn’t think of a better song to start my Strokes show with than “What Ever Happened?” The title track of Is This It is a classic slow burn, but this was the track you wanted if it was about coming out swinging. The pulse of the beat, the anthem-like declarations of the chorus that made it perfect for shouting along to (I wanna be forgotten/And I don’t wanna be reminded), that rousing solo that signaled this was just the beginning—for the song, and for The Strokes themselves at the time it came out. 

I don’t really have a lot of specific memories attached to most of the set list, other than absolutely losing my mind every time they started up and I realized I was hearing them live, but I want to remember every song they played, so I’m listing them here: 

1. “Bad Decisions”
2. “Soma”
3. “Juicebox” (of course it was the most cathartic thing ever to scream along with the chorus) 
4. “Automatic Stop” (I loved swaying to this one) 
5. “The Adults Are Talking”
6. “Take It or Leave It”
7. “Under Control” (this is where I finally cried) 
8. “Reptilia”
9. “Call It Fate, Call It Karma” (literally the fourth time they’d ever played it!) 
10. “Red Light”
11. “Someday” (this is where I finally cried pt. 2) 
12. “Ize of the World”
13. “Hard to Explain”
14. “You Only Live Once” (truly one of the most flawless songs ever, what can I fucking say)

It’s well-established that The Strokes are absolute monsters live and their performances (the guitars!) are always phenomenal, and it feels so good to finally be able to state it myself firsthand. 

I heard the guy in front of me, who’s dancing in all of the footage I took of the night by the way, tell his companion, “They used to just be on TV, and now they’re in front of us,” and as I said in my tweet later when I was reliving the concert in my hotel room: SOBRANG FELT PO, KUYA. 

Julian asked Nikolai to say something, and he was so soft-spoken that Julian said he sounded “like the parents on Charlie Brown.” I couldn’t help but think back to 2014, when I was really falling in love with The Strokes for the first time after years of being a casual fan, and they were starting to play shows again and figure out what it means to be in a band together at their current stages in life after all the animosity of Angles and the uncertainties of Comedown Machine and everything else that came before. I would zoom in on a GIF of Julian patting Nick’s back after their Capitol Theater show and get so irrationally emotional like, “See?! They’re friends!” So to witness something as casual and sweet as this, especially between the oldest members who had known each other longest, was doing my head in a little. I’m so glad they’ve made it to a point where all of it doesn’t have to be such a big deal.

Nick grinned so wide at the Charlie Brown comment, and I wished this could be my life every night. 

One final anecdote: During “Last Nite,” just before the guitar solo, Julian went, “Introducing! Albert... Hammond... Jr!” (Fab, of course, was being his silly, ever unflappable self the whole time, and I loved seeing them all exchange smiles every now and then.) 

I booked a Grab to the hotel. I admired the view as it passed the Helix Bridge, and I couldn’t be happier.

August 4

I checked out in the morning and tried to find the nearest train station, which turned out to be very close by. I got a card that gave unlimited rides for the day and hopped around the city a little before I went to the airport, where I waited to board my flight at the Texas Chicken near my gate. I had salted egg poppers and these cheese fries that I still think about sometimes, with loads of sour cream and cheese and super flavorful large chunks of green onion. Hear that, Taco Bell cheesy fiesta potatoes? GREEN ONION.

I still can’t believe I flew to Singapore on basically a whim and took my lightest backpack and flew back home in two days. I would never recover financially. My eye still twitches when I think about what I had to spend because some man was so full of himself that he caused an entire music festival that people planned for months and was the source of multiple livelihoods to be canceled. (Where’s that class action lawsuit? He needs to pay me back.)  

But the truth is, it was all worth it. Even if my relationship with this band (particularly its frontman) has grown complicated over the years. I was impressed and touched that the band even chose to do an additional concert at all when they could’ve just shrugged it off, and that they managed to put it all together so quickly. It was nice to know they cared, when their entire brand has been foolhardy indifference. They even mentioned Manila when they said they would be back. 

It was a night I’ll never forget, I’d do it again and again if I could, and I got a good story to tell out of it. Even if they didn’t play “The Modern Age” on my show date. 

You feel so good to leave behind

For Tokyo, I decided to bring a Fujifilm Simple Ace 400 instead of my usual Vivitar. Disposable cameras are almost the same price—i.e. eye-twitchingly inflated—as a 35mm roll, and it had the added bonus of being expendable so I could just pop it in my bag without worrying about scratching or damaging it. (I literally put my Vivitar in a zip-loc to protect it from getting wet or getting ruined.) Then I can just pull it out any time, especially if I need to be quick. 

One of my favorite things I've stumbled upon around my hotel area. I'm choosing to ignore that it's a police box. 

When shooting film, sometimes I default to portrait without really thinking about it, just a reflex that feels right. I always like the results. 

I only ever get to indulge in this hobby when I travel these days because I don't get a chance to go around Metro Manila much anymore. Sometimes I wonder if it's even something I want to keep pursuing since it's so costly now, but then I get a roll back and I'm reminded every time that it's always worth it. It keeps me on my toes and motivates me to seek out the slice of life stuff you never see in the guidebooks.

More vertical shots, the first two probably being my favorites out of the whole roll. I love the unique POV of the first, and I like how the second has all these fun details: a wide street, people with umbrellas to hide from the sun, a human figure on a storefront awning, some Hokusai street art, and of course Tokyo Skytree towering above it all. 

I'm also always drawn to crates when I'm using my photographic eye, which is definitely a result of being a big Sophie Tajan fan on early 2010s Tumblr. Her iconic shot of pink Evian crates greatly informed my own picture taking style and taught me to find fascination in seemingly ordinary, mundane moments. 

I bookmarked this place on Google Maps for when I come back. 

Next time I'm also going to be more consciously seeking out storefronts as subjects because they're just so fun. I've been so inspired by Joel Holland's NYC Storefronts (remember when I picked up drawing again for a bit to prepare for Osaka then I just... didn't draw after that) and James and Karla Murray's Store Front NYC. 

Omiya is a quaint little fancy restaurant serving Western cuisine and I was intrigued when I looked at the menu. Definitely another place I'd love to return to, especially if I come with company. 

Our final stop was full of prettier-than-average vending machines (but not the best selection of drinks). 

The film version of the surprise Asakusa street shot on my phone, and an example of me being able to pull out my disposable at a time-sensitive opportune moment. I like the contrast here, but I prefer the phone shot since the portrait orientation was able to capture a more dramatic angle that includes an expansive sky over the top of the tallest building, whereas here it's been cut off. 

One last star rise before I go

An earthquake hit Tokyo on my final night, unmistakable with the way my hotel bed audibly hit the wall—which it was set at the very edge of, meaning the earthquake was strong enough to shake it so that it moved and bounced back. I had to find the translation for "earthquake" in Japanese and searched it up on Twitter to see what was going on. I found tweets from locals, and also NCT Dream fans sharing that Jisung posted about the earthquake, because they were in the city as well on tour. 

We checked out the next morning, and for the last time I hit up the breakfast buffet for my favorites: rice with grilled mackerel and fried dumplings. My favorite drinks on this trip, meanwhile, have been a mint chocolate milk I got at Family Mart and Skal. I've become obsessed with the latter for its delicate balance of sweetness and fizz that goes down way smoother than any drink I've ever had, and I was surprised to learn that it's actually a soda and skim milk hybrid since it's so light and refreshing. I loved the cream soda/ramune flavor I first tried in Osaka, but this time I could only find peach. 

Not much really happened on our last day since we had to be at the airport by noon, so I thought I'd use this entry to talk about some pictures from my phone camera. For our final stops we explored the Asakusa Sensoji Temple and Nakamise Street area, then walked along the Sumida River, which I would've enjoyed so much more if it hadn't been so sunny. (You know I'm a big believer in the power of proximity to a large body of water to heal depression.) 

I took the picture on the left as a final-goodbye view from my window. The shot on the right, I took before crossing the street in Asakusa, and the sun was so bright that I hadn't seen my screen at first. I saw it only the day after and was floored by how much I love it. I find the inadvertent composition so dynamic and interesting. 

I saw the building on the right out the window on our drive to Disneyland. Love the idea of an unassuming bookstore out there with these really cute signs. 

The modern izakaya I wrote about in my last entry. I wanted to step in so bad but it felt like a little more than my social battery could handle right then. 

Yuki and I had formed quite a real connection and I was lucky to have met someone so thoughtful and kind. She had asked me about my plans for my free day and when I told her about wanting to visit the Snoopy Museum, we talked about other characters and pop culture we love, like Studio Ghibli and Sanrio. There are decades and thousands of kilometers between us but it's so nice to be able to find common ground in these little things. 

She asked to hug me goodbye at the airport before I left, and I was all too happy to oblige. 

I had amassed quite the collection of tiny keepsakes and trinkets, including a Mofusand banana figure that ended up being a digital clock that even tells the date. I was very excited when I searched up where the biggest gashapon place was in Tokyo and found out that it was literally right at the complex my hotel is in, and I let myself go wild with every 100-yen coin in my possession. Just hitting up every machine that caught my eye, dropping the capsule into the tote I'd brought for this exact purpose, and moving on to the next. The absolute time of my life. 

At Narita I had unadon at the Yoshinoya near my gate for lunch and waited to board at a counter with charging ports, right at the gate. I didn't need to charge my phone, but it did provide something I've been adamant is a basic human right at airports: a free place to sit with something akin to a table, or at least somewhere to properly rest your elbows. [Mark Ruffalo "We are America!" protest.gif]

It was raining in Manila when we landed. I hauled my suitcase to the pickup area and tried not to think about how, whenever I would land and turn on my local data, there would already be a message from my dad telling me where he'd be waiting to welcome me home. This time, no one was waiting for me, and I was booking a ride with a stranger. With my vision blurred by the downpour and my own tears, I cried in public for the third time that day from how I kept missing my parents. (Yes, I cried at the Yoshinoya, too.) 

But I know my dad would be proud of me for doing this on my own and finding ways to be happy and strong and healthy without him, while still keeping him and my mom near. I'm so happy I went and came home looking forward to more, that I've never lost the ability to want and to anticipate. Moving forward and surviving is painful, but I'm doing it anyway, in small steps and in large leaps. I'm already planning what comes next. Spoiler: Kamakura, wait for me. 

On an island of your own

After Disneyland, I had an entire day to do whatever I wanted in Tokyo—and it'd had me anxious for weeks, scared about trying to navigate the train system on my own. That morning I went to the supermarket across the street first to buy instant noodles. (I swear by the tarako and clam chowder flavors of Knorr Soup Deli.) Then I spent about thirty minutes lying in my hotel room with my full outfit on, trying to muster the nerve to just fucking go already. 

My extensive research for the trip included potential places to visit on my free day, and I had narrowed it down to the Snoopy Museum and a gallery and shop called Mount, because I think zines, crafts, and local literature are the absolute best souvenirs you can bring home from a trip. I watched a video about where to even begin with the subway, and a walking tour of Ikebukuro Station so I would know where to proceed. It's so cool that there are people out there who make these kinds of videos and share their knowledge, just because. This helped me avoid the confusion when it came to the lack of Yamanote Line symbols on the signs, because it was a JR line, so I knew to look for the JR logo instead.  When I landed in Tokyo, I made sure I had a sim card with a data package to access Google Maps—my phone doesn't have eSIM capability yet and I didn't want the pocket wifi to weigh me down—and lined up for several minutes to get a Pasmo Passport so I wouldn't have to worry about IC cards and tickets down the line. 

All this, and I was still nervous. I (mentally) slapped myself and yelled, "YOU ARE SMART AND CAPABLE!" You learned to navigate Singapore on your own when you were 18! People from all walks of life do this everyday and so can you! With one last steadying breath, I launched myself out of the safety of my hotel bed, grabbed my bag, and set off. 

The weather was perfect. Fresh, not too humid or drying, with just the right amount of sun. On the 10-minute walk to Ikebukuro Station I stopped every once in a while for pictures and took note of different places I wanted to experience when I came back: a basement restaurant with a tasting menu, an izakaya with cute snacks and drinks, the Milky Way Cafe on Sunshine 60, the Denny's right next to the subway entrance (because they have a fun yoshoku menu and Japan uses the vintage '70s-'90s logo!), so many bakeries. 

I was there before I knew it. I descended the escalator, and from there it was suddenly like muscle memory even though I had never been there before. They say Ikebukuro is one of the more maze-like stations, but to me it really was as simple as following the signs. I topped up my Pasmo and held on to the green JR symbols like an anchor, until I was on the platform that would take me to Shibuya Station. 

It was a Saturday, just around noon, and the crowds were manageable. I was able to find a seat on all four trains I took through the day, even later in the afternoon. It wasn't overwhelming in the stations either. Like that j-hope lyric, but I'm bastardizing it to fit my narrative: all I had to do was be the opposite of a salmon, and just follow the (right) stream. 

I switched lines at Shibuya, and from there it was a 45-minute ride to Grandberry Park. Now that I was actually doing it, my mind spun as I watched the scenery change out the window, imagining all the new possibilities I'd unlocked. It was dizzying, knowing I could just go anywhere.

I was too focused on not getting lost to listen to music, but next time, I'm definitely emoting to CHAM's "Cherish These Moments" from Perfect Blue, just like Mima does on the train. 

I got off at Grandberry Park and found myself in front of the Snoopy Museum.  

Walk-in admission is ¥2000, and the ticket is a comic strip published on the date of your visit printed on colored cardstock, which I found super endearing. I took my time taking in each exhibit, with the first being a room with a mountain of Snoopy plushies and all kinds of merch across the decades. There are rooms about Charles Schulz' life and the history of Peanuts, a gallery all about each individual character, and a special exhibition called Traveling Peanuts with original art (as in archival pieces personally drawn and touched by Schulz!) and comics about the characters' adventures around the world. 

My favorite is the Snoopy Room, full of huge Snoopy figures that showcase his playful whimsy. A few minutes in, the lights suddenly went out, and I thought there might be a problem until silly music started up and a spotlight was cast on the figure I'd been looking at. It was a special show where the different Snoopys came to life, his shadow bouncing around the room in bursts of color and movement. The best surprise, and I'm so happy I caught it. 

I also love the room with a giant version of Snoopy's house, where on one wall you can draw your own Snoopy or Peanuts gang on a sticky note and leave it behind. 

I got a lot of souvenirs, my favorites being the sheer embroidered blind bag keyrings (I got sleeping Snoopy!), a '50s Snoopy and Charlie Brown pop-up card, and '90s Snoopy's favorite chocolate chip cookies. They were so good. I got two boxes, one to bring to work. I love how our team is encouraged to take long leaves to go to wonderful cities and we have this sweet little tradition of always bringing snacks from our travels to the office.

At the very end of my visit, under a chandelier made entirely of stuffed Snoopys, they had a DIY activity where you could get a random capsule with a pin design inside. You can decorate your pin with markers and letter and heart stickers—they didn't have the letter F so I couldn't make "Fiel"—then move to the button machine station where you pressed the pin yourself. I loved this part, of course.  

I'm glad I looked down when I got on the elevator that would lead to the start of the tour, because I never would've known that there were more Snoopy statues outside in the park.

I hadn't made any reservations for the Peanuts Cafe next door since I wasn't sure when I'd be arriving and I'd heard they weren't necessary, but they weren't accepting walk-ins until 6 p.m., so I had lunch at the nearby Shaun the Sheep cafe instead. I had a cola float and chicken omurice in cream sauce, both adorably decorated with richly flavored chocolate cookies to resemble the characters. This is going to sound stupid, but I was surprised how common yoshoku menus are in Japan (where they originated, duh), because I keep looking for them back home and they're not easy to come by. 

Another thing that makes it so perfect for socially anxious solo travelers here is that a lot of customer interactions are automated. I ordered my meal through a QR code menu and observed how my fellow diners were making their payments, which is taking the clipboard with the QR code to the counter and paying through the cashier. It was the same at the grocery store that morning, where I paid through a machine after the attendant had scanned my items and bagged them myself. I like that it makes everything less confusing and awkward without removing the human element or taking away livelihoods. 

I finished my sojourn at Grandberry Park at 4 p.m. Unfortunately Mount Zine was no longer on the table if I wanted to explore Sunshine City and have enough time to pack and rest. Getting back to my hotel was equally painless, and I spent the rest of the day in the two separate but connected malls downstairs, going through the last of my checklists. Sunshine City has every character shop you could ever want: Studio Ghibli, Disney, Sanrio, Peanuts, Rilakkuma, Pokemon, even Thomas the Tank Engine. It also has the biggest gashapon store in existence, and another huge one two floors below, plus a planetarium, an observatory, and an aquarium. 

That last night, settled in bed after packing, I checked the step tracker on my phone and was blown away by how much I'd been walking the entire time I'd been in Tokyo. Never fewer than 15,000 steps, with Disneyland amounting to 22,000 and my free day getting 18,000. It felt great. I was ready to collapse sometimes, but I always felt rested and ready the next day, and right then I didn't feel tired at all.

What I noticed, making my way around the city, was that it seemed like it was so easy to get to spend time together here. You could come see your friends and hang out all the time, not only because public transportation is great, but also because there are plenty of options to go. Parks, cafes, attractions, even just streets to explore. I would see groups of friends everywhere—and in Disneyland, they even wore matching outfits. It made me feel the nicest kind of wistful. 

When I was 15 I was really into the idea of "wandering" as Keri Smith had presented it: leave your watch, pack only what you need, pick any direction, be aimless, get lost. As I got older I began to romanticize this less, especially in a city that isn't really conducive to frivolous meandering. But being able to go so far with just my feet and a limitless transportation system to propel me forward had me believing in it again somehow.

I don't wear a watch anymore anyway, for starters. 

It's so nice to get to know the side of me again that prided myself on being a commuter after the pandemic made all the routes I know best inaccessible. To discover that walking doesn't feel heavy or exhausting or impossible when the ground you're given to traverse has plenty of spacious sidewalks and well-paved, even streets, and you're not sweating thanks to a cool climate. The Skechers Go Walks I had to buy in Osaka because all the walking on that trip broke my 200-peso shoes have been so convenient and comfortable through it all, too. 

I can't exactly be aimless—we've established I'm too much of a planner for that. But I can pick a direction, trust my gut, and go.