The brain is both simple and complex and has its way of selectively remembering and recalling experiences. Regardless of the passing of time, the brain oftentimes stores memories (in great detail) of those moments in which we are placed in unusual or raw circumstances.

Story #1: Late night spotting of J League’s Cerezo Osaka

Story #2: Typhoon and an uneasy wait

There are few times when we feel completely out of our element but travel seems to bring these out. 2013 was the year I went to Japan alone. On a day of typhoon, I somehow thought it was an okay idea to make a shinkansen (bullet train) trip to Osaka from Tokyo. On top of the heavy rains and wind, the shinkansen’s departure was momentarily paused in response to an earthquake. The outgoing trip went fine and I did what I went to Osaka for. But when I went to Osaka station to inform the station staff of my trip and make confirmations for assistance, I was informed that there were significant delays in service and that I would have to wait. The staff person did not seem too interested by his lack of questions. He also did not take any information (which is out-of-the-ordinary). I left and sat somewhere nearby. There were a lot of passengers loitering about and frequent announcements about suspensions. Not long afterwards, I went back to the information window and unfortunately, it was the same man there. He told me to wait and that there was no telling when I could make the trip back. So, I went back to wait. I sat there, trying to figure out what to do. I had no idea if the man was keeping note of my trip and I did not bring anything with me for an overnight stay. Then I saw a man outfitted in a station uniform walking toward me. He then asked, “is there a problem?” I explained my situation and that I think I was being helped. He told me to wait. He returned within minutes and hurriedly told me, “There is one opening right now. There was a no-show. We only have two minutes…” He then told me we were going to have to move quickly and said, “hold on tight.” To my shock, he sprinted across the station at breakneck speed. I held on tight to my chair but it felt like I could fly out at any moment. We barely made it on time to the designated train car. But, I thanked the station staff person and waved goodbye. There are few people who will go above and beyond their work responsibilities and this person is among the few.

Dog in subway station elevator

We were in the elevator with a middle-aged woman with a fancy pram. It was a little dark but I could see that there was a small dog sitting in the pram. My mother turned around, looked into the pram and exclaimed, “What a cute child/kid…” The woman said as a matter-of-fact, “It’s a dog…” My mother burst into a loud laughter.

But, Tokyoites love their dogs and dogs in general. It is sometimes dumbfounding to see dogs in specialized strollers and prams and dressed in fancy outfits. But for this very reason, we can also see the goodness in the treatment of dogs as family. Seeing all the dogs out can rise to the level of fun.

The story/legend of Hachiko

The story of Hachiko is universally known. Hachiko was an Akita dog and his owner was Hidesaburo Ueno, a Tokyo Imperial University professor. Every workday, Ueno made a commute home to Shibuya Station where Hachiko sat in wait for his owner. Sadly, Ueno suffered a fatal hemorrhage while at work. Hachiko showed up at the station as usual. For the next nine years, Hachiko continued to make the daily trip to Shibuya Station in hopes of his owner’s return. A statue of Hachiko now stands at Shibuya Station in honor of Hachiko and his loyalty. An old film (1987) tells the story of Hachiko and it is the type of film you can (or only need to) see once.

Lost in Shinjuku Station

In my first trip to Japan in 2010 (as an adult and person with a disability), I got cut off from my mother when entering an elevator in Shunjuku Station, appropriately identified as the world’s busiest station. To my misfortune, she had my bag and wallet with her.

I made a round up the elevator and as I looked around the general vicinity, I heard an announcement over the department store speaker. It was mostly inintelligible to me but I did catch a “…da sama” but after a moment, I just wrote it off.

I sat in place right back at the spot I last saw my mother. My mother (remarkably impulsive) had her own plans of the best course of action that apparently, were different from mine. I could not speak any decent Japanese at the time so asking for help from a Japanese passersby was not an initial option. I sat there feeling utterly confounded.

After a few hours, I finally mustered the “courage” to flag down foreign travellers to explain my situation and, to my discomfort, ask for 200 yen to make a train trip back to Wakamatsu Kawada Station. The first man declined to help but thankfully, I found a man and woman who listened to my story. They accompanied me to the station office where I was then sent on a train ride home. The station master made a call to the hotel and found my mother there. I later found a 500 yen coinpiece in a deep corner of my vest.

An argument later, I was told that the department store announcement was, in fact, giving me instructions at my mother’s request. From this, I learned several lessons and they were: learn Japanese, always have your wallet with you and if someone solicits a few dollars, do not hesitate.

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This has absolutely nothing to do with Japan but it’s somewhat related to storytelling. Ever tried your hand at the New Yorker cartoon captioning contest? It’s been a bit of a fixation to win or at least make it into the finals. Been going at it for years but no luck. It has its share of enthusiasts but widely known among them was Roger Ebert, who submitted 107 times before winning the weekly contest: Roger Ebert Wins the Cartoon Caption Contest | The New Yorker. Just a little challenge for anyone who’s interested in this type of stuff.