Date

2022-11-29, Tuesday

Distance

42.81 km biked (2819.29 km in total)

In the morning, we had another chat with Diana and Sasha. Given their foreign background, we couldn't help but ask what they thought of Japan — more specifically, if they like living here. Diana burst out laughing and said, 'That’s a complicated question.' They love Japan, but Tokyo itself? 'Tokyo’s a terrible place!' she quipped with a grin.

Her view coincides with our Numakunai host William's view on Japan: They praised Japan’s reliability and safety — attributes that make it ideal for travel — but also spoke candidly about how the culture's many unspoken rules (referred to jokingly as 'ルール' or ruru, with exaggerated hand gestures) can wear them down over time.

However, Diana observes that those rules are more prominent among older generations. In contrast, younger Japanese people, she says, are much more open and connected with the rest of the world, and not nearly as 'shy' — a classic euphemism that's frequently associated with Japanese people.

Still, I think Japanese culture has shaped their lifestyle. Their breakfast? A proper bowl of rice!

Diana noted it took 5 or 6 years before neighbours began to speak to then. Even now, their immediate next-door neighbour remains something of a mystery. Upon our departure, as we were loading our bikes, we heard a door open and a voice call out — only to turn and see the door slam shut. It was almost comically secretive, like something out of a mystery novel.

After saying goodbye, we cycled through Kawasaki and past the Fujiko F. Fujio Museum, aka Doraemon Museum — closed today, unfortunately — and continued toward Yokohama. The contrast in atmosphere between Tokyo and Yokohama was immediately striking. The streets were filled with Chinese and Taiwanese restaurants. The conversations we overheard were loud and spirited — at times, it was hard to tell whether we were listening to Japanese or Chinese languages. The city had a grittier, more working-class energy. The traffic was a little more chaotic, the bikes a bit more daring. For instance, when we arrived in the neighbourhood of Gundam Factory at Yamashita Pier (山下ふ頭) — closed today as well — which prohibits cycling, we found that locals paid no attention to the signs. It felt like the 'no parking' signs we had seen earlier were more of a suggestion than a rule.

By the afternoon, the rain had started falling heavily. Originally, we had planned to camp discreetly in a nearby park, but wet and exhausted, we opted for a low-budget hostel instead — our first unexpected twist of the day.

The hostel, which offered bunk-bed rooms and shared facilities, reminded us of short-term rental apartments. Check-in was incredibly lax — no ID, no contact details, nothing at all — which was quite a departure from our previous experiences in Japan. Surprisingly, the hostel was clean, comfortable, and even offered free hot tea and coffee.

My travel companion, driven by her longstanding obsession with regional food specialties, searched for monjayaki (もんじゃ焼き), a Tokyo-area dish she had long wanted to try. Yokohama, being close by, seemed like a good bet — and we were lucky enough to find a nearby restaurant. It was decided: we would go, rain or not.

As we were walking our bikes, we met an energetic middle-aged woman biker wearing an apron. She struck up a conversation with us, and when she heard the name of the restaurant we were heading to, her face lit up — she was a regular there. This marked our second unexpected twist.

Though she spoke only Japanese and a few words of English, her warmth and enthusiasm crossed all language barriers. She insisted on accompanying us to the restaurant and cheered us on, saying how much she admired our journey. She was also a formidable drinker — her large glass of beer was already half empty by the time we had blinked. She seemed delighted to discover my friend could drink too, and immediately ordered another round (while I stood away from all sorts of alcohol).

Inside, she enthusiastically told the restaurant staff that we were from Taiwan and Canada, currently biking across Japan. She helped us order and explained the different types of monjayaki using animated gestures, sound effects, and exaggerated expressions.

There are generally two main types of monjayaki: one is a mix of various ingredients cooked into a soft, pancake-like mush, often topped with crunchy ramen noodles. The other resembles a takoyaki pizza, cooked until golden and sliced to share. Both were delicious, and the hands-on eating experience made it even more fun. This ended up being one of the most enjoyable meals of our entire trip.

At one point, we asked her why she decided to join us. She paused, poked her forehead (clearly tipsy), and said, '偶然' (guzen) — just a coincidence. She said we gave her a strong first impression. It felt like the timing, the people, the place — all of it lined up perfectly. That sense of serendipity made her want to support us and cheer us on.

Her words were disarmingly sincere. There was no hidden agenda — just a desire to offer kindness, simply because it felt right. Earlier in the day, we were frustrated: soaked by rain, thrown off by closed attractions, and navigating hectic traffic. But now, when I think back on Yokohama, it’s not the rain or the closed museums that stands out. It’s the lady's vibrant laughter, the cheerful '乾杯' (kanpai), and the spontaneous connection we shared. Before we parted ways, she gave us her contact details. In the future, whenever we think of Yokohama, we would remember this rainy night and this casual encounter with her.