Nasu Highlands: A Reiwa Era Pioneering Chronicle — Carrying Cat Food on My Back, I Reclaim My Humanity —

After retirement, I’ll have a stylish tea time on a terrace in the Nasu Highlands.

Taking advantage of my husband’s retirement after his many years of service, we left Kasukabe, Saitama, where we had lived for so long, and moved to the Nasu Highlands.

A quiet life surrounded by greenery, mornings waking up to the chirping of birds. The reality that awaited me, having dreamed of such a "picture-perfect slow life," was a harsh "Reiwa era pioneering life" where the conveniences of civilization were completely useless.

For starters, pizza doesn't get delivered. In the first place, no matter how much I scroll on the screen, Uber Eats is out of range.

Even Amazon trucks vanish into the depths of the fog, and when one finally arrives, I get a call from the delivery driver saying, "I’m lost... where am I right now?"

To make matters worse, if you step one foot deeper into the forest, even your smartphone signal goes "out of range."

Even the latest smartphone model is just a heavy "glowing slab" here. The conveniences of civilization are all lost here.

My husband, my only hope, left early for a part-time job to "earn some pocket money," and I, without a car, was cast out into the reality of the high altitude.

Next-day Amazon delivery is just a dream. Unable to resist the gaze of my beloved cat asking, "Is the food ready yet?", I put on my backpack.

I hike down the mountain path for 40 minutes one way, pack it with cat food, and hike back up. It’s a two-hour round-trip "shopping expedition."

After the cat food, I’ll stop by the bakery while I’m at it.

The ruthless sign swaying at the eaves of the bakery I finally reached read:

"Closed today because the owner doesn't feel like working..."

I was so stunned my jaw nearly dropped.

I felt so drained I nearly collapsed to my knees.

My 40 minutes of effort, my obsession with bread, and the pain in my swollen calves.

All of it was swallowed up by the owner's whim, disguised as "not feeling like it."

I spat this out at the closed shutter in my best trembling voice:

"Google Maps said you were 'Open'!"

...Where on earth am I supposed to direct this muscle pain in my legs? I ask myself.

The shops in this town are just so free. "Irregular holidays" are the norm.

The door of the cafe I finally found had a single note:
“Hibernating.”

Stunned by the declaration that the shop wouldn't open until spring, I stood there, frozen, a city-bred soul.

Google's algorithms are powerless before the whimsical winds of Nasu.

The shops in this town are, if nothing else, free.

As I stared at the heartless word “Hibernating,” my heart strangely calmed.

Here, even Google's algorithms and the latest communication standards are powerless before the nature of Nasu and the “mood” of the shopkeepers.

Through these signs, I am beginning to learn the “proper way to live” in the Nasu Highlands.

I am shedding the urban obsession with “sticking to the plan” and learning to align my feelings with the blowing wind and the breathing of the sleeping earth. That is the etiquette here.

Nothing to show for it but cat food.

I climb the road home, exhausted.

And then, the greatest trial awaited.

A gang of monkeys, like highwaymen, blocking my path.

Home is right in front of me. But there is only one way forward.

As they sit there acting like they own the place, my only weapon is a leek sticking out of my backpack. Almost completely unarmed, I can neither advance nor retreat.

“Please, just go home...” I whisper, enduring the weight of the cat food digging into my backpack straps, having no choice but to tremble and wait for the monkeys to leave.

When night falls, the death cries of wild animals echo from the pitch-black darkness.

There were nights when I would sit in the dark, hugging my knees, wondering, “...Why did I come here again?”

In the city, it was taken for granted that every need would be met.

Everything was available at the touch of a finger, and anything unpleasant was removed in advance.

The culture shock of being thrown from that into this raw, exposed inconvenience was far too great.

However, after five years of enduring such a baptism by survival...

I have realized something.

A single loaf of bread obtained after a two-hour climb was surprisingly heavy and deeply nourishing.

The gratitude for 'food' and 'things' that I had forgotten in the convenient city now permeates every cell of my body through hunger and fatigue.

Inconvenience is sharpening my dormant sensibilities like a whetted knife.

Because I tremble at the roar of the night, I feel a fierce affection for the birdsong the next morning, the sound of the wind, the scent of the rain, and the tiny lives of the insects crawling at my feet.

When I inhale the crystal-clear air and look up at the star-filled sky that seems to rain down upon me, I realize that I am not merely a consumer, but that I am 'alive' as a part of this harsh nature.

The five senses I had never felt before are now vividly awakening.

Perhaps I, too, can be more selfish and free, just like that bakery that closes whenever they don't feel motivated.

The harshness of Nasu strips away my urban mask. But in exchange, there is true silence and the freedom of the soul here.

The reason I decided on this home.

Even though every day is full of unexpected happenings.

Today, too, I am being blown by the Nasu wind, feeling the weight of the cat food.

Nasu Highlands, which we chose as our 'final home,' was indeed the right choice.

Yes, while laughing from the bottom of my heart...

[Afterword]

Thank you for reading until the end. Moving from Kasukabe to Nasu shouldn't have been that far on a map, but for my life, it has been a grand adventure that has completely overturned my values.

　Letting go of convenience was scary at first.
But the 'sense of living through my five senses' that I gained in exchange was a treasure beyond compare.

　If there is anyone out there right now who is feeling exhausted and driven by something, I would be happy if you could remember my story of 'cat food mountain climbing' and have a little chuckle.

#TheReasonIChooseThisHome
#HomeIsWhereYouMakeIt
#Relocation
#CatLover
#LifeWithCats
#Survival