Japan Exodus - Day 20: The Whole Day

Have you ever spend the whole day at the beach? I mean the whole day? 

Sand woke me up, which I was not expecting. I had been so careful to keep those little grains of rock from following me into the tent. Yet, there they were. Its the beach, sand will be hard to avoid. The reward is worth the toll, absolutely. Today I woke up on the beach with nothing but time on my hands, cash in my pocket, and nothing but the sun and the tide to reference a passing of time.

Underneath a little shade on the sand is where my bike slept for the night. There was indeed no one around for such a great distance that I did not even take my bags into my tent with me. I played with the idea of just rolling out my sleeping mat and resting in the cool breeze through the night, but the night turned too cold to hold on without cover. On a patch of green grass after the water after the sand, I pitched my tent to fall asleep and wake again in the morrow. 

The morning water was not as cold as a cold shower, but it did the trick. I was thoroughly awake after a morning dip in the Japanese sea. The thought of becoming sticky all day quickly made a hesitation in my mind before entering the water, and the smell of salt would be with me too. Lucky for me that my only obligation is two days way. Today is a nice day for not thinking more than five minutes ahead. 

There is a store that I became very familiar with, and the attendants with me. Water, popcorn, snacks, a little booze, and whole lot of nothing to do. There is an immediate impulse to label the condition of my self as lazy. I certainly have not done much today. I certainly don't plan to. Some one once said, "there is a difference between not moving, and doing nothing."

When I awoke from a nap, or a day dream, I don't remember which, a miniature hermit crab was crawling up next to my water bottle and looking for a friend. 

Seriously, the whole day at the beach.

One question I like to ask people is, "what do you consider boring?" I like this question because considering the answer forces us to think about that which we would rather not do, what we would rather not waste our time on so that we can have a clearer or perhaps more confident reason to fill the times with things that make us happy. In many answers, I am told that being alone is boring. 

Maybe at first I would agree. Those first hours and those last hours. 

At some point along the day, I made my way back into the water because....do I really need a reason? The sand leading up to the soft breaking water was moist, the ground felt like I was walking on sponge cake. The incline of the beach was so slight that I imagine I could walk a good 500 meters before my shorts had anything to worry about.

If you don't know, japan's rivers and coast line are mostly all cemented off in some way to prevent erosion, provide a semblance of protection against tsunamis, and generally offers a path for early morning walkers or cyclists to move around on while enjoying the view. 

On this beach were I find myself alone but not bored, I find a collapsing image of cement vanishing inside of its own length. If you were to see this structure from by its length, you would see something resembling a long cement couch parted by segments of raising armrests. However, this angle is much more stunning, don't you agree?

There is something to be said about destroying what you write. I am talking about constructing messages in the sand and brushing them away. Try it. There is a freedom that come attached to this practice; knowing that whatever you write will be gone a second later free up your inhibitions about making mistakes or penning the perfect epistle before eminent erasure.  

Can you see the fruits (or whatever these are)? They almost look like pineapples except they are up in the trees. Maybe my dear mother can shine some light on just what we are looking at here. 

Perhaps the most memorable experience I will take away from today happened around later afternoon. I cant be sure because I really don't know. Not that anything happened, at least not right away. I was sitting where I had sat, listening to the waves I have heard all day. Somehow in a moment I was aware of where I was in complete comprehension, and from that moment onwards I managed to stretch my attention across hours to became observant of the sky through the immediate time I came to realize my position until late at night when the stars came out to play. 

It was not simply that I was there for this to happen. I did not witness the changing sky alone. There was an entire entity around me, or I had dissolved into it, and did not let my mind drift for hours. Much easier said than done, yet I don't think I could replicate the attention if given another try. This was one of those moments that cannot be had again; not for the impossibility of possibility, but for the contemporaneous commencement of inception. 

And there I sat, not stuck but awake to see the spectrum of light shift from light to imperfect darkness.

The change is much easier to see by photo, much more surreal to watch over hours.

Soon, artificial stars came into the scene and lit the horizon with reminders.

I was planted so long that I almost forgot that with darkness comes the cold. Eventually, I had to move from this place and find something warm to eat. 

How long I took in the sky to watch the clouds and deduce images from their bodies, I do not know. Part of the day, most of the day. With the completeness of night falling all around me, knowing that I had started and ended the day in relatively the same place, I strangely felt more productive than I might have with a full days "work." The difference is something align to talking a nice soul-stroll through the neighborhood to appreciate the flowers and houses, over going for a sprint walk or jog to get your heart rate up. Sometimes you really just need the former, especially if you haven't in too long. 

I was lucky that the restaurant was just taking last orders when I arrived, and even more lucky that I there was a (can you see it?) unopened can of beer waiting for me on my bicycle seat once I left. Seriously - how do people know?


And with that I must make my goodnights. Today was a whole day at the beach and honestly I believe it to be my first. Ironic, coming from a Californian but true. If you haven't, I whole heartedly recommend you grab your tent, and spend a weekend at the beach.\\

Love,
-A