I’m still clinging on to a writers’ group mailing list from my previous employer. A few weeks ago we were assigned a great prompt to write 500 words ‘based on a pop or popular song’. This came a day before I was due to start April camp NaNoWrimo so I was pretty annoyed about the timing for such a fun prompt! Nevertheless, I managed to put something together late last week. Can you guess what the song is?…
Kasa
The next station is… Ueno…. OO-WEH-NO, the tanoi sings.
I’m already standing at the carriage door with my rucksack ready in case I should daydream and miss my stop. There is an almost British level of ingrained politeness to the other passengers who are queuing to alight. My shoulder brushes a man’s body as the motion of the carriage bows my body.
‘Sumimasen!’ he gasps, though having no need to apologise himself. Some school kids are laughing at the clumsy foreigner, and my face is in all likelihood as red as the circle in their national flag. I’ve arrived at least.
Busy Ueno station barely gives you a second to breathe. I step out of the crowd to find a vacant corner and resort to my lonely planet for a town map. I hate looking like a tourist in doing so but then feel silly when it’s quite obvious that I’m not a local at any rate.
The walk to New Ueno Hotel is a short one, which I’m thankful for, but it is long enough to see the vibrant city colours.
A suited man sits distractedly behind the hotel reception rising quickly as I approach.
‘Ohayo gozaimasu,’ I say using one of my four phrases.
‘Hello,’ he shoots my effort down. ‘What is your name please?’
‘Alex Bowers.’
‘Ariksu…’ he mutters under his breath scrolling through his system. ‘Ah! So desu.’ He turns and grabs a key from a field of hooks. He presents the key with a bow and open palms. I am so taken aback that I bow as well before taking the key.
Room 503 is adequate. Half of it is taken up by my single bed and there is an open shower room with a toilet included. The toilet is not one of those that opens dramatically and sings like we see on gadget channels and TV shows. But that is hardly a priority given my budget. I came here alone, to find a semblance of myself again; even though we’d always promised to see it together.
If my hotel room is claustrophobic then the Tokyo streets are more so. The crowds become too much; I become too alien, and dash up temple-like steps. Ueno Park is a green sanctuary in the middle of the metropolis. There is solace in the sound of rain on leaves and flowers in bloom. The rain gets heavier and I still smell you distance aside. Still feel your breath on my neck and fingers in my hair. And I wonder if those fingers clasp someone else’s hand and run through someone else’s hair. Water beads on my fringe like dew on grass, and drops so that the rain and tears are indistinguishable.
A business man meanders into my periphery, raises his large red umbrella, stops and nods at me. We quietly take in the view of a lake.
‘Where are you from?’ he asks, prolonged and pronounced.
‘Igirisu,’ I make an effort.
‘So desu ne?..’ he says. ‘You are very wet.’
I titter. ‘Yes I suppose I am.’ I wipe my face, which doesn’t dry because of the rain anyway.
‘You are here for business?’ he probes.
‘No… but not pleasure either I don’t think. I’m… looking for something.’
‘Yourself?’ he asks. I have always been an open book; you told me you loved that about me. But I thought that didn’t necessarily make me easy to read. The business man smiles at me knowingly. ‘Many people do when they travel. I find that sometimes people bring whatever it is they wish to forget with them. The sun shines and the rain falls the same here as anywhere.’
He hands me his umbrella. ‘Welcome to Japan, friend. Good fortune.’ And away he walks his charcoal suit sponging.
I watch him disappear down the pathway. Sometimes small seconds can mean so much. Even though I am a world apart I see now I am thinking the same as I ever did. Water pours around the canopy above me. The same but different, I think. But different.
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