It’s my last day living in Japan before moving back home to Los Angeles. It hurts to say goodbye to a season that I’ve loved so much, two and a half years living in Japan. What can I say? It’s been the time of my life.

Everything is packed up. My apartment’s empty. I’m ready. But I was tearing up today, last night, yesterday. It’s hard to believe that this chapter is ending.

But that’s life — saying goodbye to what’s familiar to make space for what’s to come. I feel the winds of change blowing; the tides shifting.

We move forward. But damn, it’s bittersweet.

I’ve changed in this country. I’ve grown. I’ve pursued things that fill me up and light my soul on fire, finding so much magic in everyday life.

Times have been so good. It makes sense that it hurts.

A week ago for my last weekend here, I met Pat and Joe in the city of Nagoya for one final belter.

These British blokes are my two best friends from Japan; we all arrived at the tail-end of Covid-19 to teach English for the same company and experienced something truly extraordinary together — Japan still closed to tourists, but not foreigners with working visas.

We started our lives in Japan with practically no foreigners, and it was one of the strangest, coolest, most bewildering few months for each of us. We’ve been through a lot these past couple of years. This chapter would not be the same without you fellas.

After an all-nighter, we stood at the train station at 6 a.m. before I got on the shinkansen (bullet train) back to Tokyo. They were heading back to Osaka. We stood there in disbelief that this was the end (for now), tears flowing, holding each other.

Then we were laughing. I love you lads. Saying goodbye to best friends hurts. But life goes on, wounds heal, and what remains are heartfelt memories and room for those to come. I can’t wait to find out what country I’ll be seeing y’all next in.

It’s alright to feel conflicted. I’m gonna miss this fuckin’ place, but I got so much to be grateful for. So I’m vibing in the train station, listening to my favorite tunes as I give a stranger a compliment, something I’ve been wanting to do.

I walk beneath an overpass where nets are setup for playing sports. A father tosses a baseball with his son. A boy and girl play lacrosse. Girls play catch. A kid jumps rope.

And now I lean on some stairs, looking at the surrounding buildings and the last few dark purple maple leaves on a tree, thinking “beauty is no less for falling in the breeze” (a quote from my favorite book, Shogun).

The moon shines above, pale in the evening sky. I think of Joe last weekend in Nagoya, discussing the photographer Daido Moriyama.

Moriyama helped me appreciate the world as a photographer, light and angles and the way it all interacts. What an enjoyable way to live — watching the world go by, perceiving poetry in the way light changes, the way people communicate, the pace at which time moves and makes me feel.

The kids, the leaves, the light, the moon, the sky. I’m in the back of a parking lot, and to me, this moment’s profound. I look around, then within, where the sun illuminates the depth of my heart.

Japan, I’ll miss you dearly.

The early morning sunrise lighting up the distant sky, pink and golden above a silver city, my breath clear and crisp on the way to the gym. I’ll miss my walk.

I’d pass a small shrine on the side of the road, the earthy scent of incense tumbling through the air and down the street before I’d see it, the wooden structure tucked away, within its walls an offering.

I’ll miss the smell of incense emanating from an unknown source, whether falling from the window of somebody’s home, or from the jokoro, the incense holder of a nearby shrine.

No matter what I’d be going through, the fragrance would lift my spirit, reminding me of what matters in this world, the potential of the sunrise, the gift of another day to open my eyes.

I carry that feeling with me, one of safety, reverence, love.

I’ll miss the way the piercing sunlight cuts shadows on the architecture, how the flora shines, the bikes laid against the roadside brush.

I’ll miss roaming the crowded train stations, Tennoji and Umeda in Osaka, Shibuya and Shinjuku in Tokyo, floating like a fish in school, criss-crossing, cross-crissing other souls, faces, eyes and masks. But people, all of them.

I’ll miss getting lost.

I’ll miss the neon lights, and stopping to admire the serenity of a neighborhood shrine. I’ll miss running through Tokyo from neighborhood to neighborhood, passing temples, crossing highways, moving along the train tracks beneath a morning moon.

I’ll miss wandering beneath the dusky sky, gazing upon the odd, slim buildings that fade into the horizon.

I love being in a city where I can just drift and observe the way life turns. I can do that in nature. I can do that anywhere. But I love the stimulation of a bustling place, especially when it’s so different from where I was raised.

How cool that next I’ll try living closer to nature, and if it doesn’t scratch my itch I know where to go — another city. It’s nothing to fear. Live for today. Don’t worry about what tomorrow might bring.

I will miss the onsen, the natural hot springs, oh so much — the uniqueness of each one, whether in an elegant onsen town, or tucked away deep in a mountain gorge.

I’ll miss the red and orange and yellow lanterns lit up in the evenings, the blowing maple leaves, the bronze statues I can’t read, the pristine streets. I’ll miss stumbling upon temples and gardens, history and beauty.

Maybe I’ll even miss the pain that’s made me the man I am.

I’ll miss this country I can’t truly understand, but that I know in my own way, with my own perspective, memories, and insights.

I’ll miss the vending machines, blinking color in the dark, a hot green tea on demand whether in the heart of a city or high upon snowy mountains or beside rivers of black and green.

I’ll miss my leather coin purse full of yen, the feeling of looking in there and seeing ¥100 coins, knowing them by the grooves of their edges.

I’ll miss onigiri, rice balls, perhaps most of all.

Jeez, I’ll miss the konbini, convenience store, with its hot coffee and chestnuts and a plethora of salty snacks.

I’ll miss the festival stalls, the autumn rain, the winter cold, the pale pink spring, but not the summer heat. I will miss the essence of summer, however, in all its sweaty misery.

I’ll miss the childlike nature, the kindness of strangers, the broken nights and adventures by day.

I’ll miss the sentō, the public bath houses found wherever you are in the country. That’s where I’m headed now, a sentō in Shinjuku, nearby the hotel I’m staying at for my last night since all my stuff’s packed away.

Shinjuku is known as the touristy party district of Tokyo. But I’ve never been to this part. It’s residential, calm, charming.

My girlfriend already left for the states, so it’s just me tonight. That’s a weird feeling, too. She went one way on the Yamanote Line and I went the other. What sensations I felt watching her go, even though I knew I’d see her soon.

But it sort of feels right that it’s just me, going out the way I started here: wandering beneath the moon, alone, awestruck.

It doesn’t need to be sad, kid. It sure as shit can be, because it is. But celebrate. You’ve done something extraordinary, living here. I’ve been crying all week, and ain’t that wonderful?

The moon’s above me. We stay shinin’. What a stunning moment in time. Sad and complex and wonderfully bright.

The natural onsen are one of the main features people think of regarding Japan. Sentō don’t get nearly as much attention, as they aren’t so alluring.

Rather than finding one in a remote village or overlooking the sea as you might an onsen, you’ll find sentō dotted around any major city or town, as they aren’t natural hot springs, but communal and easily accessible bathhouses.

I had one across the street from where I lived in the Tokyo neighborhood of Nakano, and it felt like it was the basement of an apartment building.

Onsen are known for rarely accepting people with tattoos (although that’s changing). Sentō are different. I was once told by a tour guide that the sentō were started as a public service, literally a place where anybody could come and bathe since Japanese homes can be quite tiny.

Compared to the onsen, the sentō are nothing fancy, and that’s what I love about them. Still, they always feel clean — it’s Japan. After walking through a modest lobby and into either the male or female locker room, you’ll enter a large area with tile floors and tile walls. It feels kitschy and retro — definitely a vibe.

For around 1,000 yen ($6.50), you get access to showers lined up to bathe under while siting on a tiny plastic stool in typical Japanese fashion; a sauna, cold plunge, jacuzzi, and other features, depending on the location.

This one in Shinjuku has an outdoor space to just sit and take in the night air, as well as an outdoor tub. A large mural of Mt. Fuji adorns the wall, as well as some strewn blinking neon lights.

I love how you just think in the sentō. Heat, cold plunge, then outside into the night air, repeat. Thinking. Stringing thoughts together from a fascinating existence.

I’ve seen many foreigners at onsen around Japan, but I actually don’t know if I’ve seen another foreigner at a sentō. It’s often just me and older local gents, butt-naked (liberating), hanging out.

In the sauna is a little TV in a glass box. Playing on the one at Shinjuku is the star Japanese baseball player Shohei Ohtani doing some warmups in the off-season. Ohtani is a god in Japan.

Yesterday while at the municipal office taking care of my health insurance, the woman asked if my home was okay after the LA fires. I told her it was.

“Ohtani’s house didn’t burn down,” she said.

“Thank god!” I replied. Ah, Ohtani-san — I guess I’ll miss you too, but I’ll see you in LA (Ohtani’s the star player of the LA Dodgers).

All I can really say is arigato, Japan.

You’ve seen me grow, laugh, cry, walk and break and fly.

You will forever be a part of me, occupying a very special and tasty place in my heart and soul. I’ll be back to Japan, of course. But for now, it’s time to write the next chapter, neh?

🫰🏻🍙🫰🏻🍙