And so our late-taken, 25th anniversary holiday, comes to an end. With a final look down the endless corridor of the hotel at Haneda Airport, we flew off home.
On the long flight home I thought about the things I’ll miss about Japan (and the things that make me want to go back). I had plenty of opportunity because the Japanese man in the seat behind me was clearly the Olympic gold medalist for talking. Sadly it was all in Japanese so I couldn’t even eavesdrop.
Probably the main thing I absolutely love about Japan is concentrating on the small things; finding the zen in your life. I think I need to do more of this. It’s about peace and being part of the world.
More tangibly, I’ll miss the food, the kindness, the fake-maiko (faiko), the temples…actually just about everything.
The staff at establishments seem to really care. As we left the hotel on the island, the staff from the hotel collected outside and waved our bus goodbye. They stayed there until the bus was out of sight. It was the same in the hotel at Kanazawa. This desire to make your life the best it could be, is precious and so rare.
The incredible accuracy of the Shinkansen will come back to me every time I catch a train to London.
I will also miss these silly little cars which we saw everywhere:
We’re already planning next time…
So that has to be the worst flight ever. I had assistance at both ends and was looked after really well. One bit of humour when the young Japanese woman at Haneda insisted I wear a seat belt. When I told the guy who pushed the chair in London he wondered how fast she was going. I told him she was like a delicate little Japanese doll. Actually she offered to take me shopping and when I declined, Mirinda said mo going shopping with a lovely young Japanese woman.
The flight was awful, my foot complaining most of the way. It was very difficult getting comfortable. The stewardesses were very sweet, helping back and forth to the loo, their delicate little hands held out in support. (I have to say I loved the ANA service and would fly with them again, easily.)
At Heathrow, it was very difficult hobbling off the plane but eventually I was at the cab (Paul was a driver and he was annoyed that he hadn’t known I was disabled because he could have parked closer) and safely ensconced in the back seat.
By the time I reached home, my foot looked more swollen but that could have been the pressure changes on the flight.
I was kind of hopeful the foot would have finished me off on the flight…sadly it didn’t.