Withdrawal

"I've got Japan withdrawal." I sms-ed my sis-in-law, while on my way to Takashimaya, 4 days after I returned from my holiday in Japan. I needed to breathe in some Japanese air, I had told her. Pseudo or not, it didn't matter. Pathetic, I know, but I can't help but be mesmerized by the Japan I had a glimpse of.

Maybe it's the legendary Japanese service I had read of, and then encountered on my short trip there. How the 8 front desk staff of the small hotel we were staying at had come out in near 0 degree temprature to stand along the sides of the pathway to wave goodbye to us while our tour bus drove off. How the old lady who sold apples in a market had refused the Y200 we wanted to pay her for the small apples she gave my daughter. And how in a crowded shopping street in Osaka, like this one :


cyclists pedalled silently behind you, too polite to ring their bells to tell you to make way for them, and instead waited for you to realise their presence and move aside for them to pass.

Then there were the breath-takingly beautiful foliage on the temple grounds, such as these:

as well as quaint houses and shops:

There was also the memory of the sparkle in my girl's eyes as she saw snow for the first time, and how she adamantly refused any help to build her first snow man:

Then when Mt Fuji loomed majestically behind the rooftops, we squealed with delight. "You are very lucky," our guide told us, "Mt Fuji is only visible 56 days in a year. Most of the time, it's hidden by the clouds." But there it was, right outside our window. We tumbled out of the bus to marvel at the spectacle, a primeval behemoth that made you gasp in wonder. "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth!" I wanted to shout, for in the face of unspeakable beauty, there are no other words adequate enough to express my sense of awe.



All too soon, it was time to leave the Land of the Rising Sun. But Japan had cast its spell on me. I was hooked, seduced, captured. And I know I would be back.