Every night I tried to write in my journal as much as I could before falling asleep. The first night is brief, the others are more substantial. Here's what I wrote:

First Day in Japan:

I'm in the Oak Hotel in Tokyo, lying on a bumpy double mattress which I paid double for before my roommate bailed. The room is quite nice: big bed, private miniature bathroom, old desk from the 50s, and air conditioning. And, all to myself.

We arrived in Yokohama early this morning, I woke up involuntarily at five and got up an hour later, with only four hours of sleep due to snuggling and excitement. What a long day ... I hardly realize the hours passing. Got off boat, walked around the town in which we ported, lost Zoya and Emily (they were locked inside a bank for a few hours) ... trains to Tokyo (fell asleep at this point.)

Supplement of day one:

It's difficult to remember ... I have to write it now, just imagine in three months how much I'll forget. My time in Yokohama was minimal. We spent a few hours wandering streets, then promptly boarded a JR train to Tokyo. Once off the train, Mike, Lindsay and I followed the directions from our Internet printout to our hotel (photo: Tokyo train station.) "Turn left out of station, walk 400 meters, see FedEx building, cross street, 800 meters straight..." At one point, we hesitated on a corner, not because we were lost, but because we were taking advantage of a lightpost. A woman approached us and, without a word, took our map. She studied it, rotating it fully several times. She spoke no English. She started to walk, and motioned us to follow, and even though we knew where we were going, we did.

She started to run ahead. She reached the hotel's sign "Oak Hotel" and pivoted to face us. Here! Here! She pointed enthusiastically towards the building tucked away behind restaurants. Arigato, bow, bow...bow bow...bow. (Japanese people everywhere are friendly and unexpectedly helpful. If a person hesitates and looks at a sign twice, someone makes sure she's not lost.)

After unpacking, the three of us went to search for food. I've given up my vegetarianism (how non-virtuous of me) while in port, and I'm completely dedicated to the point and nod strategy. Everything I've eaten has impressed me. Impressed me. Good, and what the expletive did I just eat??? From sweet bean paste inside white gobbly goop to raw salmon ... egg cake, fish plastic something in the shape of flowers, pickled eggplant, tempura everything, noooooodles and rice rice rice rice.

Journal--Second day in Japan:
Woke up, showered in 4x4x6 shower. Left bags in hostel. Train to Tokyo. Oold guy helped. Uninvited, but still appreciated. Gave Mike a business card (always receive with both hands, study it and don't put it away in front of giver.)

Tokyo. Imperial Palace. Gardens, rock mountains and the business sector. A moat surrounded the palace.

Harajuku (photo). Teen heaven. TRENDS. People, kiddy world, condom store, Gucci, unbelievable sushi bar (photo). Not vegan anymore, for now.

Tech. district. Vending machines, bicycles everywhere. Kids solo. Beautiful women. Uniformed working men. Couldn't find hostel for tonight, found cheap ryokan for Anne and I. Have to find her when this train gets to Kyoto (on the shinkansen bullet train now). Worried I won't find her. Or the ryokan. Will take taxi.

Ate bento box on train. Completely unfamiliar tastes.

Open market inside Tokyo rail station. Greatest food market I've ever tasted. Beats Philly's by a gillion. Mike and I tried things we couldn't identify.

I see images everywhere that don't remind me of anything. No person, taste, view, vehicle (all the cars are small.) Everything exotic and different than any of my memories. Clean, everything is clean. Toilet seats are heated and make music. Girls wear lots of makeup and trendy clothing. Trees. Lots of trees and greenery in city. Ads promote whiteness. Blonde girls with pale skin. Tan paper book covers. Small flexible books.

(later on...)

Staying in a ryokan with Anne (photo). It's very small, antiquated, musty smelling. We're lucky to have air conditioning. I can hear Japanese conversations through the walls. Literally paper thin walls, sliding doors. Slippers for walking around, slippers for the bathroom. Common sink (which is more like a trough). The innkeeper is timidly kind and alert. Somehow not wanting to offend. He gave us a tour of the upstairs. Thank goodness for Western-style toilets. The innkeeper's wife might be four feet tall.

The pillows are filled with some kind of hard bean, and are packed tight. We're on mats on a tightly woven floor. Hai!

Reminder: I'm okay. Read on.

Third day: The day of extremes

Last night's ryokan worked out pleasantly. The owners were kind and gentle. Timid but welcoming. The shower in the morning was interesting. The bathing room was large, tile covered. There were all kinds of funny signs around telling me to not use the bath before 4 p.m. and be careful of hot water and other stuff I don't remember. After getting dressed, I left my bag with the owner and Anne and I started out for Kyoto. We had the best breakfast EVER. At the first coffee shop we saw I suggested going in. No one spoke English, but we were gestured to a side table. I ordered something with "lemon" in the title, but a man walked in who spoke some English and laughed with the cook about my request for lemon alcohol at 9 a.m.

So I got the house special: two pieces of unbelievably delicious, flaky buttery toast, salad with the creamiest dressing I've ever had, one brown, hard-boiled egg, and a very small slice of ham. I'm not vegan (or vegetarian for that matter) anymore. It was amazing. Oh and we had spectacular coffee, too. With some kind of clear syrup for sweet. Upon finishing we followed the tower in the sky to Kyoto rail station. Thanks to a guidebook we accidentally stole from our ryokan we figured out how to get to Nanzenji Temple. (Very thankful for the pb&j I packed.) The temple was perfect. Really magical. Mystifying. Walking around felt impossibly sacred. We saw all that was there to see. The garden and tons of shrines.

We hiked up the side of the temple, following some Japanese women. We hiked a long time. By the time we had passed all the shrines and Anne decided to stand under the waterfall where monks pray, I stepped into a spider's web. Extreme #1. (Oh, and in between here, we stopped to eat at a café selling coffee and spaghetti. I had soup. Delicious. And an art museum because it downpoured.)

We were walking around and I felt a bump on my arm start to itch. Then tingle, then hurt. Then my neck tingled. Then my arm tingled. Then my neck hurt. By this time, I'm panicking (about five minutes). We stop in a store to ask where the nearest hospital is. The woman looks dumbfounded. The girls who were shopping in that store started to giggle. The worker calls her friend who works at the shop down the alley, and she gets on the phone with me in terrible English and asks if I can come over.

So the shop-owner points me down the path and I guess which house it is (no house numbers here). The woman is on the phone with someone and tells me to see the doctor (THE doctor) in the area. When all I'm asking for is a hospital. So we go to the heart clinic, where this doctor supposedly is and ask the front desk. No one spoke English (Nightmare? Yah.) I show them the note with the doctor's Japanese character written name on it and they nod and tell me to have a seat please. I'm near hysterics, my eyes have blurred at this point. My neck is tingling, my arm hurts, I'm in Japan and she tells me quietly to have a (expletive) seat. After fruitless waiting, Anne takes my MedEx card and calls the Japanese number. Not so much help (sorry to say). They told me to go to the hospital. Duh.

So eventually they call me into the room where the doctor is. He supposedly spoke English --but, uh, not so much. He gestured and pointed and said a few slow, ill-pronounced words to me, but took SO long to recommend going to the hospital. I cried the whole time. We insisted a hospital visit and he sent one of his workers (I guess. Not sure who she was.) with us to ask the taxi driver to take us to the hospital. I paid the fare and we walked in.

A hoard of young Japanese nurses/doctors (this was a University hospital) came out of the Emergency center and I filled out weird paperwork. More people came out trying to figure out what kind of alien I was. Eventually, after showing my Medex card, they took me in. I was put on a bed, asked questions, poked, turned, had my neck twisted, more questions (one boy in particular was doing the talking ... I stared up at a dome of Japanese faces-all male but one-looking worriedly at me. The "oh...I see" face. So they started to run tests. Blood pressure, temperature, pulse, cardiogram, blood test, and chest x-ray.

After being topless, stabbed with a needle, crying, paining, panicking, they said I am okay and, this is weird, because spider bites are unusual in Japan. WELL so am I.

Anne paid, because they don't take credit cards (Wha??) and we left. Got a taxi, picked up my bag, taxi back to Kyoto JR and went straight to the travel info desk. I asked and the next train to Kobe was in three minutes. We ran. With 30 pounds of pack on, down a pint of blood, and hungry, cried out, (expletive) angry (ATMs don't work in Japan) we made the train.

So we arrive in Kobe at 8:30, one hour after boarding the train. We ate my power bars and I had three-quarters of a bean glob candy something gross. Then we tried to find our hotel. Anne got the name wrong and neglected to locate the hotel beforehand (this was her responsibility -- the ryokan was mine.) (Journal has lots of negativity here. We'll leave that out.)

We went to the wrong hotel, spoke to lots of people who had no idea, but finally found it.

(BTW: Everyone in Japan is friendly and willing to help. One guy thought he knew what it was and actually walked us there. It was the wrong hotel, but he had good intention. So then Anne starts crying. (PS: The -expletive- ATMs don't work.)

We get here, to the hotel, I shower, she showers, I eat my pb&j and write. It's all a learning experience. For now, I'm hoping to wake up at six and get ready to grab a cab for PIER #4 where my ship awaits. I cannot wait to see that boat. I do like Japan a lot. But uh. Not getting poisoned, lost, starved and broke. Eh...

It gets better now.

Fourth Day: Homestay, Osaka, Kobe

Today/tonight may have been the greatest experience of my life. The most directly placing hours I've ever had. I am an American in Japan. And right now I am an American in a Japanese home, lying on a mat on the floor, post-showered, eaten (several times) ... from the beginning:

Anne and I woke up in the hotel. Got a taxi to the ship, met up with other people ... blah, blah, blah. THEN, while we waited for the ship to be cleared, some young Japanese dancers arrived to entertain us (photo). We watched them and then joined them. Josh took my photo from the fifth deck dancing with them.

It took a while to get onto the boat, and I was rushed to make this trip, so I ran to breakfast, made a quick pb&j, ate that in two minutes and ran to catch the group. I had to wear Zoya's shirt because nothing of mine was clean. I had no time to choose.

So, we meet up with our guide, the English professor at Konan Women's University and eventually leave the port of Kobe. We switch trains several times, then board a bus. In 10 minutes, we arrive at Konan.

The Japanese students were waiting for us with signs outside the elevator. "Ca-ra-ma-ri-a?" Megumi was my host. We all sat, talked, exchanged stories, took photos, wrote calligraphy, made fans and cranes, ate lunch and prepared to go to Osaka Castle. The girls noticed my eyelashes. They liked that I have an Italian name. All of them, except for my host, wore heels and dressed up. They were so much fun. Cute, giggly, sincerely struggling with English, curious, helpful, funny, beautiful Green-tea ice cream after the castle (photo). Then train back and we split up.

I'm so happy I'm alone here with Megumi. There is a HUGE language barrier, as Megu's English is not so good, and Japanese people never show they don't understand. They're like mirrors, so if you smile and nod, they do too but really they're not getting it. Megumi's home is unbelievably beautiful. We stepped into their courtyard and I nearly cried (photo). I got choked up because it's very old and traditional. Her parents picked us up from the station in a Mercedes.

Dinner was amazing. Delicious. Fresh, plentiful, beautiful, modest (somehow) and did I mention delicious?? Salad with the best tofu ever (raw) and the best dressing - GOD! Salmon in chunks with the skin, noodles in sesame broth (I tried my hardest to make noise while eating them) tempura potatoes, beef curry (It was fantastic. Melted in the mouth. My mouth waters at the thought...) and champagne.

We sat and talked. Megumi's father did not eat with us. I don't know why. Her sister and brother-in-law and niece (two years old) and nephew (four months old) came. Her brother in law was the best at English. I talked mostly with him. Then we moved from the dining room to the living room (the rooms seem to magically appear, like the houses do. No open space anywhere. No wasted space. Compartments.) Sushi came out. Then we went to Megumi's grandmother's house for a sweet. Oh my god, beautiful. Her aunt and uncle live in the same house with the grandmother. We had dessert -- mine was straw berry delicious light custard/cake with cream and oh my god.

The "TV" room was connected to the dining and kitchen, and was raised, except for below the table, where your feet go as you sit around it. They served me Japanese tea in the tea room, which was next to the altar room for the grandfather who had passed away. This was inside from the typical garden. I don't think I saw half the house.

The babies were fun. I held one, and the other wouldn't leave me alone, except to scream and run around and color on things. The grandmother, aside from being gorgeous and gentle, did all the preparation while the men, the aunt and I sat at the table. Megumi played with the kids, and so did her sister and mother.

It was a dream. I had to remind myself I was awake on the way home. This town is Japan. (We are outside of Osaka by about 20 minutes.) Then I embarrassed myself. The shower. I didn't think the whole shower room gets wet when one showers, so I put my clothes in the corner. They're soaked. "Uh, excuse me? I have a problem." I said wrapped in a towel and dripping. "Ah!" Megu's mom came running, "Prorem! Yes!" She came in and abruptly dumped my clothing in the washer.

Everything I could possibly want is given to me. About an hour ago, Megumi's mom came in with a can of fruit nectar for me. I love this place. I'm truly sad to be leaving tomorrow night. But still unceasingly excited to spend tomorrow in Kyoto with Megumi and company until 6 p.m. ship time.

Breakfast: vegetable sandwiches. Warm cabbage inside warm toasted bread with a squirt of ketchup and slice of cheese. Salad from last night with that dressing from God, half hard-boiled egg in the salad, meju (applepear?), grapes, green tea, orange juice and yogurt. I ate everything but was full for the yogurt. Megumi's mom gave me a chunk of cake to bring along for the day in case I got hungry. I offered to help with the dishes, but she adamantly shook her head and patted her cheek as if to tell me to go put my makeup on. So I did. Then followed Megumi's other sister's recommendation to sit in the living room and watch Japanese news.

Kyoto was hot. Beautiful, wonderful and hot. I nearly fainted. (lots of photos)

Megumi and I said goodbye this evening, and both broke into tears. We connected so well. The others started to cry, too. Not the Americans, though. Just me, and the three Japanese women who showed me Japan. "Not goodbye" she said. "See you later." Tears filled her eyes. They don't hug. But we did. They hold. I noticed as Japanese women age, their hands go from childish, to long-nailed, soft and painted, to short-nailed and practical, to worn and thick, used and heavy. This is probably not unique to Japan. Megumi's grandmother had the type that rise and fall with effort; the fingers barely spread, the knuckles bulbous and wrinkled. When I said goodbye to her, she held my hand in both of hers and bowed deeply with a huge smile. She spoke no English at all.

I'll be in China tomorrow morning. (Photos are taking too long. Will load another time)