Yesterday, in my bedroom, I was redrawing in my mind the last few years I've spent on the roads and rails of the world, exploring the daily lives of the people in the countries I pass through, observing their rhythm, as they run to catch their early-morning tain, come home exhausted at the end of the day, asleep on the bench of an overcrowded train, while on either side, the other passengers are overwhelmed by the images on their smartphones, earphones screwed into their ears. Over the last few months, I've been wandering around this country that I love so much, despite the extreme loneliness. I love looking at the beauty of its people, the way they dress, their taste for aesthetics, the elegance of the women, whether in the centre of Tokyo's working-class districts, or in small towns like this one in Narita.
Sitting on my bed, I realised just how totally inexplicable and unimaginable my daily life is, so out of the ordinary.
I go to bed every night between 23:00 and 23:30, after watching a film and having a good shower.
In the morning, my alarm goes off at 07:10, I laze around until 09:00, get ready, have a breakfast bought the day before, get dressed, take my bag and my computer, walk to the café and then spend 3-4 hours writing, processing images, editing video or simply watching YouTube, to learn or just to entertain myself.
Then comes lunch, which I confess I don't have every day, or at least not always at lunchtime. In general, I spend the second half of the day exploring, discovering the area, the city, the region where I've decided to settle for a few days.
Yesterday, for example, I set off to discover Narita, where I'm currently spending around ten days, wandering through the streets criss-crossed by traditional houses and stalls selling delicacies and various souvenirs. I visited the superb temple and pagoda, and was intoxicated by the smells and sounds of the cicadas that are so typical of Japan in August. Their sound is powerful, very impressive for such a small animal.
Then, on the way back up, I stopped off at this little restaurant I'd discovered the day before. I'd had Wagyu beef lasagne there and their menu had already tantalised me, so I went for a grilled wagyu steak with a side of vegetables, potatoes, garlic and wasabi. It was simply divine, served with a beer and topped off with a plate of seafood cooked in white wine.
I then finished my day as usual, but also by doing my laundry, which is always breathtakingly simple in this country. Every hotel offers access to several washing and drying machines, for as little as a few yen.
Today, I have absolutely no idea what to do, apart from write this diary... I'm craving the sea, sea smells, wind, extreme light and exceptional images.
A typhoon is approaching the coast of Kyushu, the southern island of the archipelago. It has already caused considerable damage on the islands of Okinawa, further south-west. The winds and rain are extremely violent, and the slow speed at which it is moving is causing even more damage on its way to Korea (Busan is likely to be hit very hard from Thursday, in 2 days' time). And since yesterday, another typhoon (the 3rd in less than a month) has appeared in the south-east and is getting dangerously close to Kanagawa, Tokyo and Chiba (where I am at the moment).
What's breathtaking when nature throws this kind of show at us is the extent to which the extreme is mixed with the beauty, the colours, the lights, the atmosphere it creates... If only more people had the capacity to look, to see, to take an interest.
That's why it's so much more rewarding to take your time when travelling, to allow yourself to be surprised, to experience the unknown, to be adventurous, to allow yourself time to be invaded by your surroundings, to find micro-routines and to meet people more than twice, just to be able to see them and share with them… an other wonderful day in a life full of doubts and uncertainty...
