Final Morning in Kyoto, Final Night in Tokyo

Our final morning in Kyoto we went for the fancy hotel buffet. She didn't disappoint. Matcha croissants and yogurt jugs. We were seated next to the Other Americans--loud rich people who all answered phone calls during breakfast. I shuddered thinking about going home. We took an early cab to Fushimi and hiked up the tori gates. At first it felt overwhelming, but the higher we climbed, the thinner the crowd until there was peace. I left yen at the mouth of a fox. They had a message for me, but I didn't know what.

I showered, sat, bathed, sauna'd in the onsen for an hour. It was so calm and intentional, and I was so alone I bowed on my way out. Shoved everything in bags, before trotting out to the mouth of hell. I'd tried to go to the mouth of hell a day or two earlier, but I lingered too long in our room (probably just hungry) and by the time I got outside it was raining. I hustled back up to fetch raincoat, umbrella, etc. and then knew I had only an hour before the temple would close. I sprinted there, got lost, got in, walked around and finally had to desperately ask the ticket counter where the well was. A different temple, I found out. But I'd already paid the entrance fee, so I tromped to a tatami mat room, empty, sat down, and stared at the image of Buddha. Apparently, this temple is one of the first meditation sites on earth. And so I did my best.

Anyway, on this sunny day, I go to the teeny afterlife temple with no problem. I offer coins for dead people and stand at the haunted well. I take a bunch of selfies. I wear the tiny brown shoes and wish I could stay longer. I debate whether or not to buy a prayer plaque, opt not to, then regret it on the walk home--before a huge gust of wind sends floral perfume my way.

I stock up on convenience store snacks for the train, buy a final souvenir for Puhg, and then the bellhops call the cab and we head to the station. I journal the whole way, listening to Japanese Breakfast and sipping my last milk tea.

We arrive at the Ritz Carlton--hilariously the available hotel Puhg could book on points for the night. Before we arrive we think it's probably kind of silly, but once we're in the big room with the incredible view and fancy vanity bathroom, we think differently! I break out my hoard of cheese and crackers and berries. I blast Taylor Swift over the sound system. I wear the robe and slippers. We watch the sun get lower and lower over the biggest city in the world.

We walk to a nearby cabaret. Online it looked so fun and wild, but when we arrive, there are only a few quiet locals sitting in the back. But the show is excellent! An hour of choreography ranging from Fosse to traditional Noh theatre! Spinning stages and elaborate costumes and big drama! I adore it, and when the finale starts I screech, because the entire ensemble trots out in big pink dresses to one of my favorite songs of all time! I feel a burst of connection to the world. This pop ballad from the 80s I first learned at summer camp saying hi two decades later. At the end of the show, the emcee says, "ALICE FROM LOS ANGELES" and I am instructed to get on stage for a photo. Does this happen to all foreign guests? Is it random? We will never know. But I did as I was told and a dancer threw a towel over my lap because (I assume) she thought my dress was too short. As we settled our bill, the actors all walked out and thanked us for coming.

On the way back we spontaneously try a pizza spot with a neon light on. It's actually fantastic, salty puffy crust. In the darkness of night the room view is even more special, and it's even more difficult to go to sleep. I eat my leftovers in bed at midnight.

In this world we're just beginning/

to understand the miracle of living.