One time I went to Japan for a day by myself.

The scene is Narita, Japan. The characters are me and my bad self, traveling the world by accident. The time is unknown becuase that is what happens to you when you hop from time zone to time zone in a matter of days that don't actually exist, haven't happened, already happened, and are yet to happen tomorrow but were already yesterday. But it was dark outside when I landed. The thoughts are, "OH MY GOSH I'M IN JAPAN!"

Because I was. You know.

By the time I had driven from the airport to my hotel in the provided service shuttle, all I knew of Japan was sideways stop lights, crazy traffic, and other wide-eyed tourists. When I stepped into the front plaza of my hotel, I was in awe of the moist air and elaborate gold door linings at the entrance of the Narita Port Hotel, my home for the next twenty-four hours.

I paid in yen. Probably, I don't actually know becuase my mom made all the arrangements for me when she discovered I would have to fly to Japan in order to make it to Guam from Fiji where I had just landed after two weeks in Tonga so that eventaully I could get to San Fransisco to make it home to Colorado Springs. The point is, yen! I was in Japan, using a currency I had only laughed about in elementary school when I saw the square hole in the middle of a round coin.

The desk attendant spoke English. Thank goodness. She gave me a room key to a room on the third floor, one I found absolutely quaint and Japanese in every way. I walked in to find a small bathroom equipped with a toilet shrouded with a high-tech panel of buttons to operate the bidet. Of course, there was a bidet. I had seen more bidets than actual Asians since I landed in the Orient. Those people like their bidets.

A small bed with no frame and just sitting on the floor was nestled in the corner, complete with a pure white, down comforter. Folded neatly in the center of it was a black and white kimono. You better believe I put that guy on right when I figured out what it was. A bun coiled right on top of my head followed shortly thereafter.

I stayed up late (or maybe not? I literally have no idea what time it actually was) and planned the next day, since I would have until 5 that afternoon to gallivant around Japan by myself until I needed to get back to the airport and onto Guam. I found a shuttle schedule on top of a pile of fliers on a desk in the corner. Luckily, numbers remain consistent from culture to culture or else I would have been stuck. There is not even a hope of guessing translation from latin roots when everything is written in characters.

When I knelt to pray that night, I almost felt like I should place my palms together in front of my face in a reverent Japanese gesture instead of folding my arms.

And then I went to bed. In a Japanese kimono on a Japanese bed in a Japanese hotel with the Japanese world just waiting for me to enter it the next morning. And I slept a Japanese sleep, dreaming of bamboo poles and squinty eyes.