I like it in the city when two worlds collide

I’d been planning a Busan trip early this year, looking up accommodations with private pools and walking-distance access to beaches. I could sightsee a little and make sure I always had a great meal, but it was going to be a staycation above anything else. Maybe I could even write a little. 

Plans changed when my cousin decided to join me on this trip, and I chose Seoul (yes, again) instead so there would be way more places to check out since it was going to be her first time. 

May 27

We got in at 6 a.m. from a red-eye and couldn’t check in until 10 a.m., so we headed over to Yeouido Hangang Park. We sat at one of the tables outside the CU on the river cruise dock, which became another instant secret spot for me that I’ll be seeking out whenever I’m in the city. It’s cheap and quiet—in the morning, at least—and it brings you so close to the water. 

After settling at the hotel we set out for Anguk Station. Dotori Garden has been on my list for quite some time, but it was out of the way and not very accessible by train so I always put it off. I don’t know why I never noticed that they’ve had an Anguk branch all along, but I finally clued in and made sure it was the first place I went. 

On the way I got a Handmade Coke from this trendy cafe called Onion, which also had a lot of baked goods on display that looked delicious. The drink was light and super refreshing, made with coffee along with certain fruits, flavoring, and spices, and did taste very much like a better cola. I’m kind of craving it right now just typing this. 

I got some squirrel-shaped cookies, a cream cheese canelé, and of course a chocolate acorn madeleine. It was so soft and dense and rich. 

The whole place was absolutely charming. All of the customers were out in the garden, but there was this room just off the entryway that was empty but perfectly cold. Summer was already pretty much in full force in Seoul and I was happy to have my little treats while I got to cool off. We had to leave a little too soon for my liking, but when I’m back on a solo trip I’d love to just spend a whole afternoon here. 

We walked around Bukchon, stopping by an open house at the Traditional Culture Center. There were so many little shops run by artists and artisans, and I got a whole handful of art prints at this cool illustrator space. 

First-day eats: Bonjuk & Bibimbap Cafe’s jangjorim butter bibimbap, which is soy-braised beef with an insane, deep explosion of buttery flavor. A mini four-cheese “Chicago pizza” from 7-Eleven that was very good. And dinner at Sushiro, where my favorites were the salt and lemon salmon nigiri and the special unagi nigiri. We also tried the excellent mandu from downstairs. 

May 28 

We had lunch at Rolling Pasta, and I ordered the steak cream pasta. Just very nice, very decadent cozy coddle-y comfort food.

I was excited to go to the postcard store in Seongbuk, and even better, the fountain plaza was right by the subway station. We saw ducks and even a beautiful grey heron along the stream. I once again had to wonder what it would do for my mental health if I lived in a city with this much access to public parks and bodies of water and, like, just nice places to go for a walk and sit outside. 

But that wasn’t even the best part of this neighborhood. That would be Chaekbonyang, the cat bookstore a ten-minute walk away. It’s on a pretty steep slope, with a wooden gate that creaks open to signal your arrival. There are sweet little knick-knacks everywhere. You’re welcomed by the kind shopkeeper, who asks you to take your shoes off before you enter—and by the two resident cats. 

Haro, who has an adorable one-sided overbite.

And Hadong. 

I just know the book selection must be great and I would’ve loved to buy some, but there didn’t seem to be any English editions available. I bought a few souvenir cards instead with really cute art. 

I went off on my own so I could rest before going to the CGV across the street to watch Backrooms (it was so interesting to note some of the translation choices from the subtitles I could read and understand). We met back up later to have gelato for dessert. I got Fanta chocolate chip, which seemed to be vanilla with chocolate-covered bits of grape Fanta but kind of chewy but also crunchy and raisin-y? It was fine.

May 29

I noticed immediately that the Lotteria near the hotel, which is a major part of the reason I even stay there, was closed. I thought it was gone forever, but it was only being renovated and set to reopen in July. But still: that meant no quick saunters to simple, fuss-free cheeseburger bliss.

I had to go all the way to one station over for my fix. I ordered the burnt beef burger: squid-ink bun that looks like Rey’s portion bread (ugh just making a sequel trilogy reference makes me want to scrunch my nose up), cheese, bacon, caramelized onions, and brown butter oil. It was good, but I still like the classic cheeseburger better. 

I met up with Ate Inah in Gangnam at the Platform-L Art Center to see the Haruki Murakami exhibit. 

It was a very full, dynamic experience. They had us moving across rooms, crossing the terrace overlooking the open area, and climbing to the next floor. Whenever you think it might be over, you’ll be informed that the exhibit continues here, and now here, and now the basement, and now the other basement that wasn’t even accessible from the previous elevator. 

It featured art pieces by Korean artists inspired by his work, sections about how he lives (how he writes, his favorite meals, his affinity for cats, the places associated with him), and drawings by his late friend and collaborator Mizumaru Anzai. 

The centerpiece was easily this walk-on glass shelf full of books by and related to Murakami in lamp form. 

This section at the very basement was an interpretation of a jazz bar, with visual projections on the screen and curated music playing. Guests are invited to sit on the floor, including some bean bags, presumably able to stay until it was time to close. It reminded me of one of my favorite places that I came to collect when I was depressed and freelancing, a now-gone art gallery in Karrivin with a small theater that would play films and videos related to the current exhibition. 

We had dinner at Rentei, a quaint little izakaya-style joint specializing in udon. 

We sat at the counter and I ordered the tobiko cream udon. Cream-based noodle dishes with white onion  remain superior. 

May 30

Mint Choco World is another Seoul favorite that I’ve been putting off since it’s not as easy to get to and I was letting my social anxiety get to me. But today I finally bit the bullet. 

Half my motivation for going was getting to see all kinds of minty desserts they’ve thought up.

Ultimately I got a chocolate latte with mint soft-serve, an eclair, a dark chocolate cookie with the perfect hint of mint, and a mint chocolate Dubai chewy cookie. I’ve been a mint chip girl since I was little, so I loved everything. They’ve perfected mint chocolate like an art—none of it was cloying and it was always the right amount of sweet. 

The girl at the counter was very friendly and I just had such a nice time. It wasn’t too crowded, but I loved getting to watch couples and pairs of friends come in and enjoy their treats while wholesome pop of decades past (“I Just Called to Say I Love You”) played over the speakers.

Mint Choco World is in the Mapo neighborhood of Yeonnam, which I found trendy artsy and brunch-y. So many intriguing cafes and places to eat. On a Saturday afternoon there weren’t very many cars on the street, and the center of it is lined with trees. I’m definitely coming back.

I took a cab to the Olive Young across the street from my hotel to get something for a friend. On the way I was really craving a pizza, wanting to relive the four-cheese from 7-Eleven. And a short walk from Olive Young was this little kiosk selling takeout boxes of square pizza slices out of a window! I got the cheese and the garlic cream with potato fries (it was So Much in the best zaniest way and so soft to the bite). 

Ate Inah had also gotten me garlic bread with light, airy cream cheese from Garlic Boy at Gwangjang Market, and it was a dream. 

At around 8 p.m. I had this last-minute impulse to see the Han River at night, so I went ahead and did just that. The park was full of people holding picnics, but I walked past them all until I was at the edge of the dock. There were people on neon-lit jet skis splashing each other and doing tricks while the people beside me cheered them on. 

I put in my earphones and listened to “Safety Zone” (naturally), and then Adele’s “Hometown Glory.” The moment very much felt like the verse after the first chorus come to life—but also like the scene just before the song plays on Skins, when Cassie tries to belong on a night out by a river in a city very far from home. 

I met up with Ate Inah at around 10 so we could go for Korean BBQ. They had great mandu and mini burger patties, and of course the samgyeopsal and the beef paired with rice was phenomenal. I don’t think I’ve gone for K-BBQ in Manila in years, but I want to go again one of these days. 

I got too full too soon as I often do, but I couldn’t think of a better way to end our Seoul trip. 

I only know the recipe to roam: (Almost) everything I ate in Osaka

In college I experienced the worst blowup I will ever have with my parents. I had fucked up my education and I’d been hiding it from them, and they had never been so disappointed in me. It had felt like the end of the world at the time. 

Days later my mom took me to what was then a new restaurant called Dohtonbori. The interiors were fun and there was a tabletop grill at every booth where you could cook your okonomiyaki yourself. It was here that we tentatively patched things up, that she did the kindest, most loving, most quintessentially mom thing she could do and welcomed me back into her arms with a smile. I’m pretty sure I was bawling in public from the gratitude. 

I don’t think I could ever imagine what it was like for them to let that anger go and treat me with grace and comfort, even after what I’d done. But all they ever really wanted to do was love me. 

I thought back to this day a lot as I ate my way through the real Dotonbori ten years later. How I would’ve told them about the food, maybe even how we would’ve experienced it together the way we did at that restaurant. And even though they weren’t really there, I carried them everywhere. 

The place I immediately went for the day I arrived was Sushiro. I had the limited-time basil mozzarella salmon, uni rolls, and the adorable and slightly silly hamburg steak sushi. The mozzarella tempura was addictive and they had a promo with Puppet SunSun, so I chose a drink order that came with a little puppet charm. 

I chose to include the daily breakfast at my hotel since I really liked the food when I first stayed here, and it was worth the splurge and waking up early. The daily menus had so much more variety than I thought possible. Fried skewers, takoyaki, and okonomiyaki, bacon and scrambled eggs, baked beef belly with loads of onions (I have no idea how they made it so flavorful), grilled chicken with lemon sauce, mini hamburg patties in demiglace, penne in different tomato sauces, shepherd’s pie, karaage, grilled salmon, mackerel, tiny pizza with different toppings, tiramisu and kiwi cake for dessert.

Karaksa Hotel is really the only choice for me in Osaka. The shower is decently sized and separate from the toilet, which I’ve really had to dig for when browsing places to stay in Japan. The location is perfect (if not all that close the nearest subway entrance). The doors are magnetic and the Do Not Disturb signs are magnets. Best of all: they offer free refreshments all day from the fancy touchscreen dispenser and there’s a microwave you can use any time for leftover food or konbini finds. Even better: they have boxes that you can use to pack shopping hauls and food instead of buying/bringing an extra suitcase, and they even let you borrow tape to seal it. (There’s also a service for shipping the boxes to your address, but I chose to check in mine.) 

In Umeda I stopped at a food court and ordered mentaiko pasta at a place called Pesca. The noodles were super al dente and thinner than regular spaghetti, and the sauce was creamy and lemony and just slightly briny with loads of soft, chunky salmon. 

For dinner that night I had another pasta, this time a plate of carbonara from Saizeriya. I liked the unlimited drink bar, and the pasta itself was salty and eggy. 

I was finally reunited with the true love of my life, ramune-flavored Skal, and it was just as good as I remember. My other konbini favorites: cheesy chicken nuggets from Lawson and their blue mint chip ice cream, the coffee jelly that’s Hoseok’s favorite and that Aya had reminded me to get, ready-to-drink iced honey latte, and the chocolate chip scone from Family Mart. 

I also managed to grab Snoopy-shaped treats that were supposed to be for White Day, and I’m still thinking about that thin chocolate-covered Wittamer cookie the kind stranger had given me at Art House.

Another place I’d been wanting to check out was Bikkuri Donkey. I got the hamburg steak with cheese sauce, and it was fun eating it with chopsticks (the texture of the rice and meat were perfect) while basking in the cozy, slightly dark interiors of the basement.

I wanted to have authentic yakisoba for lunch, but the place was still closed, so I crossed the street to Lawson and chanced upon this omusoba instead. The sauce was sweet and salty and I loved the richness added by the egg and creamy mayo. I will probably look back on this for years. 

For my last lunch, I went back to Sushiro. The cheese and mayo seared salmon was great, but the best I had there was definitely the cheesy seared eel. The cut was the perfect thinness and the burst of flavor from the hidden dollop of unagi sauce is core memory material. 

I got to order real street yakisoba for dinner. The noodles were flat and springy and it was topped with thin strips of wagyu beef. I held the plastic bag of takeout in my hand as I took my final walk around Dotonbori—the weight of it a promise that I still had something new to look forward to even after saying goodbye to it all. 

If I wanted, I could

I took advantage of the holiday on Tuesday to book a stay at Valero Grand Suites for the week. I liked the idea of walking to and from work for both office days, and I could spend the rest of the time on personal writing projects and ordering in from places I’ve always wanted to try since the area gives me a wider range of choices. 

Finding out about their half-off offer has been dangerous for me since I want to stay there all the time now. I love the double rooms since the beds are huge, and one is always set against the window, where there’s this elevated space wide and comfortable enough to be a desk if you sit at the end of the bed. It offers views of the Lepanto Building, flanked by my own office building at Ayala Triangle Gardens. There’s also a full-size fridge that comes with an ice tray and a microwave, which is perfect for making sure I get to eat without taking too much time away from the stuff I want to get done. 

On the first day I walked to the nearby 7-Eleven after checking in to stock up on drinks and some of their ready-to-eat meals. It started raining on my walk back, but the sidewalk is fully covered so I got to experience the downpour without getting wet. 

Stuff I tried from 7-Eleven through my stay: the black forest cake slice, which was really good and full of cherry flavor; the breakfast sausage patty with rice, eggs, and mini pancakes; the cheesedog onigiri; and the crispy shrimp balls with garlic aioli. 

On Wednesday I got up at 9:30 (the usual time I arrive at the office, from having gotten up at 6:45 at home!) and showed up to work at a little past ten. Before heading back I stopped at the Marketplace downstairs, where I ran into a high school classmate and found this adorable red panda popsicle—the dark brown is hazelnut, light brown is coffee, and the little pink peaches are of course peach-flavored.  

I ordered in from Flipside Burgers and got the one with bacon jam, cream cheese, and fried onions, which might be my favorite burger in Manila right now. I also got some sliders for snacking or later meals. I got a cookies and cream cake and seafood cream pasta from Sweet Inspirations. Again, I’m a little too particular about cream-based pastas and it’s much more likely that I end up not liking something I’m trying for the first time, but this one had a good texture and flavor and I’m glad I had it. 

I had to take on double (honestly, triple) duty at work and it wasn’t very fun. The day ended at around seven or eight, and we had dinner at Purple Rice in Salcedo. I got the grilled angus beef belly with nutty Thai BBQ sauce, and I’m obsessed with it. I finished half and got the rest to go, which I had for breakfast the next day. 

It was nice to walk back to the hotel at night. I haven’t been journaling by hand for a while, just writing about my days in my mood tracker but I’ve been too lazy to be detailed about it, so I wanted to put some of my feelings here. This week kind of left me feeling lonely and grasping at notions of belonging. Work has been a lot since last June and there are a lot of frustrations. I have friends to commiserate and carry it with, but at dinner I was listening to them share about how they’ve been talking with their parents or how their parents have been supporting them and it just struck me: I used to have that too, and now I don’t anymore, and never will again. It was so easy to imagine what my parents would’ve said, and how comforting it would’ve been. But I’ll never know for sure. 

So my supposedly chill workcation week got clouded over with some fun little depression side quest that didn’t really subside for a couple of days, but getting to do what I wanted and get some good food helped. 

Friday I didn’t have to come to the office anymore, but it was still a work day, so I set up a desk on the large counter space next to the TV and drew the curtains for lots of natural light, which I don’t get a lot of at home. For the rest of the day I watched Something Very Bad is Going to Happen in one sitting, since we just got the screeners for work. 

On Saturday, my last full day, I ordered Umi Sushi as a final treat for myself. 

I think it’s pretty affordable since you get eight huge rolls per order. The first kind I got was the salmon aburi, with cream cheese and chopped cucumber and a topping of torched salmon, a creamy sauce with aonori powder, and tobiko. This one was really fresh and filling and sated the part of me that’s been craving salmon for a few days. 

I found the dynamite roll adorable with its tiny panko-deep-fried topper roll of minced unagi, kani, and cream cheese. The main roll had torched fresh salmon and cream cheese, with chili mayo. 

See what I mean about the desk-esque space by the window? I spent Saturday doing some reading for research, and at night I turned out all the lights and sat facing the night sky and the beautiful buildings while I organized my notes into a semi-coherent outline. This story has been haunting me for a couple of years and I’ve been so scared to touch it since it features sports and it’s important for me to strike the balance of making sure it’s well-integrated into the plot while knowing next to nothing about it. I didn’t get as much done as I’d been planning, but I think I finally know what to do with it and most importantly how. It’s definitely progress, and I can’t wait to go further.  

I checked out early the next morning and went over to Ate Inah’s place so we could go together to where we’re having her birthday lunch. 

Was it just a ploy so I could execute my ulterior motive of seeing Fifi and giving him all the pets? Who’s to say. 

This time he actually laid still and let me pet him after giving my hand the perfunctory sniff test. When I got up he kept stopping at my feet and rolling around, showing his stomach to me! And later, when I got out my bag of Chips Delight cookies to snack a little, he climbed onto the couch to beg for some, but of course I had to turn him down. 

Lunch was at Azadore in the Scout area, but I got too lazy to take proper photos by then, so have some more of Fifi. It’s a gorgeous place, another repurposed midcentury modern home with plenty of private dining areas at no additional cost. Perfect for family celebrations, and I wished my parents were there as usual. 

My favorites from our meal: all the paellas, the lengua, the truffle penne, the pork belly with aioli, the toasted baguette with compound butter, and the churros. It was nice to close off my week alone with my larger nuclear family. 

(Less nice when I got home and finally counted up the damage on my expense tracker. I don’t want this to be a habit, but maybe it can be a seasonal thing.) 

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. 

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.