A story about how I concluded that life is fun after verifying 'Doing things alone'

Going to the movies alone, karaoke alone, yakiniku alone, traveling alone...

When asked about 'doing things alone,' it's interesting how people are divided into those who say, 'No way. Doing things alone cuts the fun in half,' and those who say, 'Easy. Being alone is stress-free.' The reasons vary from person to person.

By the way, I don't find time spent 'doing things alone' painful. In fact, I love it. However, my reasons are trivial. I feel quite sorry to treat it as equivalent to the general, shining version of 'doing things alone'.

This is because my motivation for 'doing things alone' boils down to just one point: 'I don't have to expose my personal tastes to people close to me'.

That's hard to understand, so let me explain.

I've always liked things with a bit of a kick.
At age three, I craved salted squid guts as if it were ice cream (kids, don't try this at home), I preferred beef and pork offal, and chicken hearts (hatsu) for yakitori, and I couldn't go without garlic skewers even if it made my breath smell. As for milt (shirako), even if it is the testicles, if it tastes good, it tastes good, so I'd gobble it right up.

I love foods that are the exact opposite of what a sparkling, wonderful girl might post on Instagram. If possible, I want to hold them and eat them. I don't need healthy salads or photogenic sweets.

However, could I show that raw, greedy side of myself at work or at a dinner party with friends...? Unfortunately, I don't have the nerves of steel for that. That's where the setting of 'doing things alone' is perfect.

This applies not only to restaurants but to other 'doing things alone' activities as well. I don't have to expose my tastes, which are by no means cute or bubbly, to people close to me. It's a truly great benefit.

So, this is a story from when I was a university student.

I decided to go on a trip alone to a place I had been interested in for a long time. The place was Kyoto. It was Kokedera (Saiho-ji Temple). I thought it was the perfect place for a solo trip.

'Won't you go see the moss with me?' I didn't have the courage to invite a friend. I felt bad about dragging a friend who wasn't interested in moss all the way from a rural town in the Tokai region to Kyoto. I couldn't find any friends who loved moss as much as I did either.

It was a place I had wanted to visit for a long time.

'It's beautiful, isn't it? It's so green.' If I had to worry about making conversation just to avoid silence, I wanted to admire the moss quietly and peacefully by myself.

My tastes, which I felt were hard for people my age to understand. It fit the purpose of 'doing things alone' that I had in mind: not having to expose them to people close to me.

Just around that time.
I had just had my heart broken.
It hit me.

A sentimental journey!!
A solo trip to Kyoto! And a heartbreak trip at that!!

I realized a sparkling side of 'doing things alone' that I hadn't experienced before. My heart leaped.
I wanted to go on a sentimental journey with these feet right now.

However, there was a problem. At the time, special visits to Saiho-ji Temple required an application by return postcard in advance. I desperately tried to suppress my rushing feelings. 'Do I have to start by buying a return postcard at the post office?'
I felt my enthusiasm drop a little.

However.

When I got home, I found exactly what I was looking for in the newspaper inserts.

A one-day bus tour around Kyoto. The itinerary included Saiho-ji Temple, didn't it? And it was during the rainy season. The perfect season for lush, vibrant moss. What a coincidence.

The moss is calling me

That's the only way I could think of it.
The itinerary also included 'Suzumushi-dera Temple' near the moss temple, and since I was still clinging to regrets at the time, I decided, 'I'll go and pray for a reconciliation while I'm at it.' My way of thinking is too scary.

Since it was a group bus tour, I felt it was a little different from traveling alone (though if you act alone, it's the same as traveling alone), so I thought that way and signed up the next day.

***

On the way to Kyoto, I looked at the scenery from the bus and thought, 'I'm glad I came.' The sky was overcast and it was drizzling. It was the perfect day for a sentimental journey.

Most of the tour participants were retired. The group consisted of two groups of women, one married couple, and me.

I watched the participants from the back seat. I could hear their voices, and from the tone of their voices, I could feel their excitement for the places we were about to visit. They were sharing their emotions with friends and partners.

Huh? Me? I'm on a sentimental journey. I snorted 'hehehe' and smirked a little.

The moss temple was amazing.

Raindrops dripping onto the green of the garden.
It was so quiet, as if the moss was absorbing the surrounding sounds. I felt like I could hear the breathing of the trees. Even though I brought my camera, I was so captivated that I forgot to take pictures. The moss showed me different expressions one after another, from close-ups to wide shots. I gasped.

It was simply beautiful.

I'm glad I came.

***

The morning ended, and my heart was filled with a sense of satisfaction that exceeded my expectations.

'I'll hand out the bento boxes now,' the tour guide said, going around the tables in order. Watching her, I thought about Suzumushi-dera Temple in the afternoon. While eating a Kyoto obanzai bento, I tried to shift gears into 'Sentimental Journey [Part 2]'.

That was when it happened.

'Hey, it's lonely being by yourself, come over here,' one of the women in the group called out to me. When I turned toward the voice, the people around her were also nodding and beckoning me over.

I had a hunch. I had felt their gazes flickering toward me during the bus breaks and even at the moss temple. They must have been trying to include me in their circle since then. It seems I was such an outlier in this group that I made them feel concerned.

I hesitated for a moment.

Almost simultaneously, a chair was set up for me in the space within the group. It was a swift, unquestionable maneuver. Truly impressive. 'I'll take you up on that offer,' I said, moving over with my bento box.

I thought they would ask me all sorts of prying questions.
'Why did you come alone?'
'Aren't you lonely?'
'How old are you? That's unusual.'
I prepared for a Q&A session at high-speed rotation.

However, surprisingly, they didn't ask me anything at all. The only thing said was, 'Sorry, I hope we aren't bothering you?'

The ladies' conversation unfolded endlessly, one topic after another.

・About hair arrangements
・Supplements they've been taking recently
・About graves
・About their husbands' memorial services
・Worries about urinary incontinence
・Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law issues

Deep.

I felt a slight sense of confusion, wondering, 'Why did you invite me here?'

However, although the topics might seem negative at first glance when written down, strangely enough, everyone was smiling from start to finish, laughing heartily. Occasionally, some even wiped away tears from laughing too much.

They are strong.

As I sat there, feeling a bit out of place and shrinking away, wondering if I should really be here, the woman who had spoken to me first suddenly said, 'Life has its ups and downs, but it's veeery fun.' 'That's right,' another woman added.

Indeed, they really did look like they were having fun.

'Here, have this.' Saying that, a lady placed a pineapple candy in her palm and offered it to me. When I thanked her and accepted it, she started handing them out to the friend I came with as well. Another woman offered chocolate. Naturally, she gave some to me too.

I hurriedly rummaged through my bag and gave them each a piece of xylitol gum wrapped in silver foil in return. When I said, 'I'm sorry, this is all I have,' they replied with a smile, 'I was just wanting to freshen my mouth.'

The second half of the tour, which started at Suzumushi-dera Temple, became a lively journey, 180 degrees different from the sentimental journey I had planned. It was a trip where someone was always talking, everyone was laughing along, and even though I was full, I was constantly being provided with some kind of food.

The lively time passed in the blink of an eye.

I said goodbye to the seniors and headed home alone. For some reason, I suddenly felt lonely. I rummaged through my bag. Actually, I had also brought a large bag of pineapple candies. I took one out and put it in my mouth.

I stared at the one pineapple candy I had kept in my pouch, separate from the bag. I kept it carefully for a while.
'Life is fun,' along with the senior's words.

Continued story ⇩