In this small world, I turn my eyes outside: An Osaka photo diary

Landing in Kansai, the plane window became a triptych of sky, sea, and grass. In my mind it immediately took on the quality of a Kate T. Williamson illustration, gorgeous finely detailed abstract patterns stark against one another. Even though I spent a month practicing in my sketchbook so I could draw on this trip, I never really got around to doing it, but sometimes I still think about trying to put this lasting image to paper. 

Having spent the first four years of my career freelancing, the thought of traveling to Japan always left me frustrated since it wasn't as easy for me to obtain an ITR needed to apply for a visa. For a long time it felt unattainable to me. But in 2022 I'd been employed full-time for two years—not only did I have the form, I was also making enough that I could let myself have this trip. (Even better, applying for a visa through a tour package doesn't require you to submit an ITR or bank statements, so this is a great option for anyone who's been having the same problem I did!) 

I got a Fibe-Mini from a little corner of vending machines at the airport. The bottle is adorable, so tiny I can close my fist around it and have it disappear, almost. It’s pink, fizzy—the grapefruit taste made complex and sweeter by tutti-frutti undertones. The drink is produced by a pharmaceutical company, of all things, which I think explains its slightly medicinal but overall pleasant flavor. 

The drive into the city from the airport was wonderful, and I especially loved getting to see the massive ferris wheel from the window. 

I had the time of my life exploring Shinsekai District, a neighborhood bridging the old and the new (and the sensibilities of New York and Paris, so I'm told). Some side streets carried the smell of ramen broth and my eyes grew wide at the larger-than-life exteriors. 

Dinner was at a local restaurant, Iruri, where we were served a set menu with deep-fried skewers, takoyaki and okonomiyaki, tabletop cooked chicken and rice, and a salad with fresh, crispy lettuce and blue cheese dressing. 

In Nara after exploring Todaiji Temple and buying a beautiful bookmark with swimming koi on it, I walked among the deer and mostly sat around by the trees listening to "Autumn Outside the Post Office." 

I walked back to the bus on my own, giving myself a chance to enjoy the surrounding neighborhood a little more. I bought a DyDo drink at a vending machine. The can was blue with a glass of ice cream on the logo, and I'd chosen it thinking it would taste like ramune. What I got instead was the most layered and complex-tasting soda I'd ever had—officially it's called "ice cream soda" or described as "vanilla ice cream-flavored," and it certainly tastes the part, but it's so much more than that. It made me think of the gum in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory where Violet really felt the sensation of having a three-course meal. It was the most full-bodied vanilla, with even a hint of salt to make things interesting. So good. 

I saw my favorite street outfit in Gion, on a girl laughing with her friend. She wore a blue oversize dress shirt with a white knit vest over a dreamy glittery blue tulle skirt and sleek black boots. 

I wanted to explore every inch of Kyoto. Tammy, the tour guide, told us about its law to keep buildings low and maintain the area's quaint, restrained, but proud old-world atmosphere. I drank it all in, from the river, to an office with a collection of the employees' shoes at the door, to bright cafes and tiny houses, to the Arts and Crafts University. (Obviously I fell in love with and remain obsessed with that name.) It was surreal to pass the headquarters of Capcom in Osaka and Nintendo in Kyoto while listening to "Safety Zone." 

It started raining on our walk to the Fushimi Inari Shrine. I wanted to take so many pictures, especially at the train station in the middle of the street where we had to stop to let a train pass by, and I saw a couple of cats lounging. And I'm gonna be that person just this once, okay? It did feel remarkably like a Ghibli movie. So there.  

The next day Tammy gave me a little gift: a postcard, a small picture frame, and some treats and cute erasers. I hadn't planned on revealing it had been my birthday the day before, but somehow it had come up during the sushi making class. It felt quite nice to not carry it alone, even if that had kind of been what I wanted when I booked this trip. I'd just wanted to get older someplace where nobody knew me.

Our first stop in Kobe was a sake brewery, and my favorite was an orange-flavored rice wine served cold from the tap. It was so refreshing. Way touristy, but I was excited about going to Steakland and having Kobe beef for lunch in the city it was named for, and I wasn't disappointed. In the area was a small row of shops, each with two compact floors that reminded me of the old shopping center in UPD. There were shops selling ice cream and taiyaki, there was a bike by a cafe with flowers in the window, there was street art adorning a dance studio.  

I didn't love the super long cable car ride up (or down) Mt. Rokko when we went to the Nunobiki Herb Gardens. The flowers were beautiful, however, and my favorite part and something that calmed me down was getting to pass over the waterfalls. 

Back in Osaka the rain made the autumn chill even colder. My P200 shoes had finally given up on me after days of long walks, and I hobbled on frozen feet along Shinsaibashi looking for a place to buy a replacement pair. The hot pack Tammy had given the tour group earlier in the day gave me a lot of warmth and comfort. They were playing Selena Gomez' 2009 album Kiss & Tell through the shopping street, and I was 14 when it came out, so of course I knew some of it by heart—especially "I Won't Apologize" and "I Promise You." 

Eventually I wound up at a Skechers and (it's just much more fitting to express it in Tagalog) napagastos ako nang wala sa oras. It felt good to step out of my comfort zone and try my best to communicate with the attendant (who was also doing her best) despite the language barrier and really try stuff on to find the best pair. I settled on a futuristic-looking chunky black pair of Go Walks that I've come to swear by.

Every few stops or so there were alcohol dispensers set up to disinfect your hands, which was obviously a total marvel to me, someone who's never left the house without it even before 2020. We'd also gotten these amazing hand sprays on the first day of the trip that didn't really smell like anything but in a pleasant sterile citrus-y hospital-y way and had a different feel compared to rubbing alcohol. It dried quicker and felt cool to the skin and just felt cleaner, I can't describe it. 

I got karaage clip-on earrings at a gacha store, had a hamburger doria and a maple latte at Excelsior Caffe, and walked around some more before turning in for the night. 

My favorite drink on this trip was the ramune-flavored Skal I'd buy at the vending machine right in front of my hotel. (Not the one pictured.) And the breakfast I still think about was from the second day, when they had tiny beef patties available. I didn't want to feel too full, so I just took one and layered it on top of some scrambled egg and rice in a small bowl, poured a bit of curry on the side, and sprinkled some furikake over the rice, making a mini hamburg curry don. I washed it down with cold melon soda. Unfortunately, they didn't serve the tiny patties for the rest of my stay, so I never got to have it again. 

The morning of my best breakfast was our Universal Studios day, where I got to fulfill my dream (literally, not even kidding) of going on Jaws: The Ride and experiencing the eternal 4th of July in Amity. Since I was alone, I got to use the single rider line and almost never had to wait for too long. I found myself seated at the very front for Jurassic Park, I got to experience the Spider-Man ride before it closed, and I had a Snoopy teriyaki burger for lunch. The playlist was appropriately spooky for Halloween ("Thriller," for example) and there were so many students walking around in costumes. It was fun to see how they expressed themselves and their interests through the charms and accessories on their bags, just before the whole act of it really blew up as this trend. But don't get me started on that. 

One night I went out to buy a burger I wanted to try. It was a weekend, so everyone was out in Dotonbori to celebrate Halloween. Even though I was born on October 31, I'd never really gone out and seen how 20-somethings did it. Just that one chill house party I'd gone to when I turned 23, dressed as a slasher victim with a fake blood choker and a headband that made it look like scissors were sticking out of my head...

...like this. Yeah. I can't believe I'm ruining my blog post's aesthetic flow just to yell that Hoseok and I once wore the exact same cheap plastic prop. 

I didn't get much of a chance to appreciate the costumes or the atmosphere, though. The bridge leading to the shopping street was packed, and it was a little difficult to get enough air or move along. The tragedy in Seoul had just happened, and it made me nervous. It took some time but I got to the other side, bought my burger, and took a side street back to the hotel. 

Even now I tend to joke that I really only went to Osaka for two things: riding Jaws, and a "pilgrimage" to visit the exact spot Osaka's very own Yuta had stood when he took one of my favorite pictures of him. It was raining when I had a chance to do it and the photo isn't very good because I had to hold my umbrella, but it all felt quite ceremonious and like, well, finally. 

I really like this photo I took at Osaka Castle before we flew out. 

The canned Coke tasted great on the flight. My viewing experience of Jurassic World Dominion was not.    

Hoseok went to Osaka like exactly a month after I did for MAMA, where he put on an incredible performance and looked gorgeous in Saint Laurent, and I still kind of slap my forehead about it sometimes. But I'm glad I got to leave 27 behind in the city the way I did.

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. 

If we don't watch the sun, it will rise

It's been a week since I came home from Tokyo. A little funny to think about, given the weeks I spent agonizing over the decision of whether I wanted to even go on the trip or not, and the month I spent after that going full-on apocalypse-bunker mode, trying to prepare for every possible thing that could go wrong. 

It made me a little sick to think about going back to the airport and on a plane for the first time since January, when I flew home with my dad and thought we had this whole new year ahead of us, none the wiser that he would be gone just nine days later. If anything went wrong on the trip, I wouldn't be able to call home. And if anything went wonderful, I still wouldn't be able to call home and tell him all about it. It was a scary and isolating and heartbreaking thought. 

But I'd applied for a Japanese visa as soon as I got my latest ITR, and I got a five-year one. Five whole years of no more documents and waiting around, of just needing to buy a ticket and leaving whenever I want. What a relief, and how freeing. (Of course, I would still need to pace myself, because the expenses tend to be a significant dent in my net worth.) I suddenly had a passport that's ready to go anytime, spring was about to end, and I would have to wait until September to experience any cold again. 

The idea of going didn't get any less scary, but I told myself I couldn't let what I went through stop me from enjoying a good opportunity, because I could rely on myself, and I could give myself this.

So I went. 

Weeks later and I was in Odaiba, peering up at a life-size Gundam statue under the pleasant spring sun. 

A group tour was the perfect first trip with this visa: I'd never been to Tokyo before so it wouldn't feel repetitive, it had stops in places that aren't quite as accessible, and there was a free day where I could study and practice commuting by myself for when I returned, this time completely solo. Having social anxiety and no choice but to travel alone, I've found that group tours are great for going on autopilot and following along wherever the wind (and the tour bus) takes you. Like that song "I Love the Unknown" from the Rocket Science soundtrack, except you knew just enough to keep anxiety at bay. 

Of course, me being me, I looked at the itinerary and did extensive research on every place we would be visiting, making checklists on my weekly planner app (so handy!) so I wouldn't miss a single thing. 

That first day, we mostly went around Aqua City. I was sitting in the food court wondering why they've decided it was a must for tourists to visit a mall when I heard excitable puppy barks. Across from my table was a pet shelter. In the middle of a mall! I suddenly never wanted to be anywhere else. 

There were lots of puppies and kittens around, all of them so sweet and playful. An adorable toy poodle kept pawing at the glass when I gave it a bit of attention. But my heart was instantly won over by Marin-chan, who's a little older than everybody and has the most gentle, prim demeanor. She reminded me so much of my kitty-nephew Fifi, and I miss her already. 

After dinner we hung out a little on this floor with a row of shops that made it feel like a retro '80s alley, with vintage gift shops and old-school arcade games and vending machines. We passed through the Rainbow Bridge on our way to the hotel, which gave us beautiful views of Tokyo Bay at sunset and was probably my favorite moment of the entire day. 

(I didn't know it was Tokyo Bay until I sat down to write this, and now I'm listening to "Tokyo Bay" by The Academy Is..., a deep cut that was a vinyl bonus track.)   

We set out early the next day for our trip to Mt. Fuji. I'd made sure to buy a cozy puffer jacket to prepare for the cold when we disembarked at the 5th Station. Like clockwork, I fell asleep on the drive, but I woke up to the most surreal view. 

At the 5th Station, we visited the Fujisan Komitake Shrine and I bought a few souvenirs and collected stamps at the local rest house. The drive up was unlike anything I've ever seen or experienced, just lush forest all around made even more breathtaking by the huge bus windows. We even spotted some deer milling about. 

Lunch was at Fuji-Q Highland, the local theme park. I got a chicken teriyaki rice bowl and sat with our tour guide Yuki, who's quite warm and friendly. We talked while we ate. I learned that she's been guiding tours for a few years as a freelancer, and it's her retirement job after working at a travel agency, then moving to the States to become a language teacher and translator. "So it was natural," she said of the tour guide gig. "It connects to all my previous jobs." 

 

I had just enough time when we finished eating to book it to the yakisoba shack, where they're also selling the ice cream I've been dreaming about for years: Cremia, a softcream (what they call soft-serve) that tastes extra rich with Hokkaido fresh cream and milk fat, and a buttery lengua de gato-type cone that brings it to a whole new level of melt-in-your-mouth. It was everything I'd imagined and more.

Just before the entry gates to the theme park was La Ville de Gaspard et Lisa, the most charming little walk that transported you straight into the world of these puppy BFFs. With a cafe, tea and dessert shop, souvenir shop, grand carousel, and garden with its own mini-Eiffel Tower, the entire area looked just like a chic rue en Paris. I especially adored the bakery, which had super cute Gaspard and Lisa and Mt. Fuji-themed cookies and smelled heavenly thanks to the freshly made caramel cakelets. I wish we'd had more time to linger around it a bit longer. 

Our final stop for the day was the premium outlet mall in Gotemba. I've been on a couple of group tours that also made stops at outlet malls, but I never really found them interesting since I could never let myself afford anything, anyway. But when I went on the website, I saw some less common luxe brands that had me thinking, what if I splurged, just this once?

My top priority was Saint Laurent. I'd been telling myself that if I ever would own anything designer,  a YSL bag would be it for me. So I was excited to look around and see if I would find something within my budget, especially with the significant discounts. 

The Saint Laurent outlet was a bit of a walk from the entrance we used, requiring crossing a bridge that went over a forest and had another unbelievable view of Mt. Fuji. I was determined to look for a monogram crossbody that didn't have a chain strap, and I was immediately drawn to a gorgeous moss green satchel. I've been obsessed with deep green in bag form, so it should've been perfect. But the satchel on display was the last one in stock and it was just too damaged to justify buying. I guess I'll be seeing it in my dreams. 

I looked around a little more, and eventually found a black double handle bag that also checked off my boxes. And this one was less expensive and had new stock! The walk back across the bridge felt extra giddy with the tall black shopping bag in hand.

I'm so in love. I kept admiring it while having my dinner of carbonara from the Family Mart in the hotel. (Literally inside the hotel, just off the ground floor elevators! Would've been so useful to know the night before when I'd gotten hungry at 10 p.m. from having such an early dinner.) 

My attitude when it comes to the more pricey bags I have is that of a mother to a newborn—always careful and precious with them to a fault, and it gets to a point where I end up not using them as often as I should for fear of damaging them and because there's so much work to my OCD-heavy ritual of taking them out of storage and putting them back. But with this bag, it's like there's a switch that flipped in my head that's made me more open to just using it in my day-to-day life. I'm still afraid to death of making it anything beyond pristine, but I'm more normal about it. And it's had a domino effect, I think, because now I'm starting to think this way about my other bags, too. 

I did read something somewhere that went a little like: What's the point of collecting beautiful things if you're not using them? Loving the objects that make you happy means enjoying them to the fullest, so I'm going to do that. 

my loneliness is killing me

I'd never heard of Perfect Blue until I read about it on, of all things, a list of '90s horror films. 

I've never been an in-deep anime fan, sticking to the Ghiblis and the Cardcaptor Sakuras and the Sailor Moons, but last year my professor showed Whisper of the Heart in our creative writing class (I hadn't seen it before) and I just garnered this sudden deep appreciation for it. I haven't branched out, still. (Sorry, Cheska!) But I've definitely become less likely to write anime off from the start. I love the fantasy and sci-fi ones as much as the next person, but I find that I'm most amazed by the titles that are more realistic, like She and Her Cat: Everything Flows, because of what the creators can do with such apparent simplicity. 

Anyway, the list I read had described Perfect Blue as a mind-screwy thriller that was the inspiration for Black Swan. It's about a former pop idol, who leaves her girl group behind, hoping to be taken more seriously as an actor. She gets cast in an intense murder mystery series that pushes her beyond her comfort zone—to, you guessed it, dire results. Soon the lines between reality and illusion are horrifyingly blurred. The tight jump cuts and sequences that are equal parts dreamy and nightmarish (as only the Japanese can manage) will stay with you and leave you mulling over them long after the film is over.

It's so unique in its concept, and so haunting. Plus, it's meta and firmly rooted in true-to-life situations, which might just be the scariest part of all. I'm still trying to process. 

Perfect Blue tells of a descent into madness, punctuated by paranoia, the loss of identity, obsession, and fan culture. But more than that, it's about loneliness.     

And obviously, I identified with that. 

(Don't let these screen caps fool you, by the way—the film has its fair share of creepy get-me-brain-bleach visuals.)