So yesterday (which y’all are still in as you read this) was a fraught day. Many beautiful things, but Amelia and I are learning to not be racing from one thing to to the next. Especially when the thing itself is intense.

We started at the Meiji Shrine, named for the emperor of the 1900s. He and his wife are enshrined there. They were very popular, being considered smart about modernizing while retaining culture. The shrine is down at the end of a subway line, 18 stops from where we were staying. But the Meiji Shrine and the Meiji Baseball stadium were just one slipping finger away from each other in Google Maps, so we disembarked and walked the last two miles.

Which set is up for a tired but fulfilling day: we passed the gate to Edo Castle, saw the 2020 Tokyo Olympics torch, and arrived at the temple in time for the wedding we suspected was happening. We kept passing women in high heels and long skirts that just didn’t match the gravel path we were on, and at one point a photo that we figured was for an engagement was taking place. People were carefully moving around the couple, but she was in a white short dress.

Yep, half an hour later she was in full Japanese hooded bride regalia. And everyone was having a grand time snapping photos.

Shrines are cool. You can buy charms for specific purposes, or write your own prayer of supplication or gratitude on a wooden plaque and leave it there. You can buy a fortune or light incense. You wash your hands before you ascend to the shrine itself, bow, say your prayer, clap three times and bow again. It is easy to encompass Shinto thought into Christian perspective, because it’s pantheistic nature worship, if you want to boil it down.

The shrine was lovely, serene, pleasant. Then we went to Shibuya Crossing…..

So this is arguably the busiest pedestrian street crossing in the world (Jakarta has disputed this, though). We went there on a Saturday. After the serene shrine. And the subway station was under reconstruction.

Every serene moment was trampled under the “walk left walk right” signs and the “turn left for the IN line, ha-ha fooled you turn right.” In desperation we began pointing at the line we wanted and looking with pleading eyes at assorted Japanese people. Japanese are very polite when you ask for directions or help. They are kindness itself. And this one woman, about the fourth person we asked, was determined to help. Three others had done the polite shrug of “not a clue, sorry.” This lady looked at the arrow in front of us, which pointed in a Ubend back the way we had come. She looked at the arrow on the opposite wall pointing us toward this sign. She looked at us, and her eyes widened.

Then she began to dance, turning her body with her finger pointing toward the convergence of these Arrows of Conflicting Advice, and rotating her body 360. Returning to us, her eyes lit up and she pointed up. As if to heaven.

But she was pointing at a staircase. Amelia said Thank you in good Japanese. I said a mangled version of the same, and we fled up the stairs to find actual seats on the train! Unheard of at any time, and certainly not from Shibuya Crossing. But the train wasn’t leaving for ten minutes, so we got on early.

As the train filled, a woman in a face mask caught sight of my crocheting, which I had pulled out in a self-soothing effort. Her eyes lit up. She didn’t say anything, just watched me, and I looked up and smiled at her watching me. It felt like we were having a conversation.

A few minutes later, about half the train disembarked at some central hub, and she scored a seat across from me. Her eyes twinkled at me, as I bowed my head in a “SCORE” kind of way.

She got off a few stops later, and we waved goodbye like old friends.

We were feeling much better by the time we got to the next place we planned to visit. Yes, Japan does have thrift stores, but they tend to specialize in American clothing, so we didn’t do much shopping. We ambled through a flea market, hunted down a yarn store with determination, and bought a few small souvenirs. The yarn store cinched what we had begun to suspect: the closer we are to a railway station, the more likely our GPS will lie to us. We spiraled several times trying to find PUPPY, the yarn store. (Listen, nobody does cuteness like Asian cultures. This place is full of adorable kittenware. I’m gonna go broke.)

We only found Puppy because in desperation we stopped at a wine bar (only to ask for directions you understand) and the kind owner spoke fluent English. He had me take a picture of his phone showing the map the store, so of course we had a glass while there to say thank you.)

And after Puppy we decided maybe we’d had enough relaxing fun, and successfully took the subway train all the way home. But there was a bad moment when we got on. We were right behind the driver cab, and as we looked through the window, an elderly man in uniform was pointing at things on the instrument panel and saying words loudly to a kid who looked about 12, in the same uniform. Kid’s hat kept falling down over his eyes.

I didn’t have the heart to tell Amelia, who was crashing from exhaustion, that we were going to die. Let her die peacefully sleeping on the hour-long ride, not screaming in terror like the rest of the passengers.

All the way back on the ride I pictured the old man in the driver’s pod screaming at the kid “NO NOT THE RED SWITCH!”

But we made it, and as we exited, the kid stuck his head out the driver’s window and said something in Japanese. Apparently he was thanking the riders for being his first passengers.

As it was Valentine’s we had pre-secured some supermarket pizza bases so as to avoid crowded restaurants and I loaded them with fresh veggies and we stayed in. Amelia got in a good 12 hours of sleep and I fell asleep later, serenaded by Japanese singing karaoke for Valentine’s Day in the restaurants surrounding our hostel.