long walk

Today found me on another long walk, trotting randomly through the streets of downtown Shizuoka. The heat is finally giving us a reprieve and I can't help but stretch my legs and go roaming. I live and work in the same small room, in my apartment in Shimizu. The back of my chair inches from my bed. Some days I never even set foot outside. But when the claustraphobia hits I just have to set out. Breath real air.

I've explored nearly every street around my apartment for miles. And I don't like walking down the same street twice. So my walk starts with a trip to the local small shuttle train, and a quick hop downtown to start from there. The clouds are dark gray and swirling ominously, threatening a downpour. I welcome it. Rain envigorates me when I'm walking. But it is a false threat. The wind is cool and strong, and the concrete road never ending. I set out from the busy station and head towards the nearby hills. In a direction I've never been. The shops and homes flow by and I'm quickly out the city, weaving my way through small back streets where the interesting things are. I break out into a large open flood plain. The wash from Mt. Fuji comes through here. And there is a raised walking path that takes me along the wide flowing river. This takes me behind many houses. I see a son and father throwing baseball in the alley. Each silent and somewhat serious. Men and women walking their dogs keep me company on the long path. But I soon break out and head for the wilderness. For some reason, I prefer the empty streets. The ones with bamboo on either side touching tips far overhead. But there is no road into the nearby hills. And I skirt the base for a long time before feeling like I'm very far from home, and better turn back.

Boys are girls are out of school now. And they race past me in their crumpled starched uniorms, peddaling their large metal bikes and looking very bored. Clusters of girls wear navy blue skirts and white shirts, chatting constantly. Some eye me curiously, most ignore studiously. That is definitely a required skill; the art of ingoring studiously. It's not long before I'm back downtown and mixing with the crowds of fashionably suited men and women making their way home. The train ride home is packed. And I give my seat up to stand by the railing. I prefer to stand anyway. I'm sweaty and I know I don't smell great. The train rocks as it hurtles down the rails and I peer out the window at the city flying by. So many homes. So many people. It's not long, and my stop comes, Sakurabashi. Bridge of cherry blossoms. But there are none. Just rows of tightly packed bikes patiently awaiting their masters just outside the stop. I exit with the flow of rushers home, and silently make my way to my own.