winter

The War Remnants Museum – February 27th

Over 8 billion people eat, speak, laugh, cry, and hold conflicting ideas about what matters. At any moment, a baby is being born, a grandmother is passing away. Someone is feeling lonely, lost, or fleeing for their life in a war zone. In the midst of it all, most of us must decide what to do with our hands—hands that feed us, comfort the sick, swat away mosquitoes. Tools of kindness or violence.   In the midst of the Vietnam War, a tall blond American soldier stood on the battlefield, expressionless. With his left hand, he’d held up the bloodied remnants of a Vietnamese man—his body blasted apart, leaving only a head, an arm, and loose skin barely holding together. The soldier gripped him by his chest skin, his head lolling back, his arm dangling. He held him up as if it was an everyday thing to do, seemingly indifferent that it used to be a person. I guess that’s why people say, “They’ve got blood on their hands.” The photographer who used his hands to capture this moment probably had no idea it would end up in a museum years later.   Among the 125 images displayed in the War Crimes exhibit in War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City, I couldn’t look away from this one. It captured the sheer horror of war, and the capacity for human cruelty. A man from my own country holding up the mangled remains of another human wasn’t on my bingo card for 2025. It is still burned into my brain.   I came to this museum because I believe in trying to see the full picture of historical events, not just what one government wants its citizens know. With nine permanent exhibits, and various special collections, this museum spanned three floors. Previous iterations of this museum were called the Exhibition House for U.S. and Puppet Crimes and the Exhibition House for Crimes of War and Aggression. Outside the entrance, visitors are encouraged to walk amongst military aircraft, vehicles, weapons, and bombs reclaimed from the war. The Northrop F-5A Jet Fighter and the A-37 Fighter-Bomber, originally operated by the South Vietnamese Air Force (VNAF), were now displayed with U.S. Air Force markings. Interesting. In a separate corner, bombs were laid out in piles and visitors could learn more about each type by pressing buttons on a panel. It included the biggest bomb I’ve ever seen, a 15,000 lb BLU-82, used to clear landing zones (among other things).   Inside the museum, the first exhibit I visited was Stories of Anti-War Badges. Buttons, newspaper clippings, and protest memorabilia from the U.S. documented American opposition to the war, from students killed by police during the Kent State and Jackson State protests, to Ivy League professors petitioning the government to end the violence. It also delved into global anti-war protests, including those in Cuba. Yet, I noticed there was no mention of anti-war sentiment in Vietnam itself at the time. This was expected, given how both Ho Chi Minh’s government in the North and Ngo Dinh Diem’s in the South kept tight control over internal political expression. The pervasive nature of the war and nationalistic attitudes meant that even if there was interest, organizing large-scale protests in Vietnam would have been nearly impossible.   After wandering around the room for a while, I went upstairs to the next exhibit: War Crimes. There was a somber hush amongst the visitors as they looked at pictures and video footage portraying crimes in the Vietnam War. Information plaques told the stories of notable events, like U.S. Senator Bob Kerrey’s involvement in the Thanh Phong massacre in 1969. In the dead of night, he and his Navy SEAL unit mutilated and killed Vietnamese civilians, including children. A cement vat, about the size of a refrigerator, stood beside a photo showing two of the children who had hidden in it during the attack. 30 years later, Kerrey admitted that civilians were killed but denied personally executing anyone. In his words, “We fired, and we continued to fire. It is not something I’m proud of.” There are conflicting eye-witness accounts of what happened that night. But regardless, the photo of the two girls inside the tank exists there upon the wall, as well as photos of dead Vietnamese citizens from the morning after.   Other images showed similarly brutal moments: U.S. soldiers dragging suspected Viet Cong fighters behind a tank, piles of bodies along empty roads, soldiers posing with severed heads – bodies lying just feet away. There was no censorship, just a room full of graphic pictures depicting inhuman acts by other humans. The exhibit focused almost entirely on American war crimes. There were no photographs of the Hue Massacre, where the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) and Viet Cong executed between 2,800 and 6,000 South Vietnamese civilians suspected of being loyal to the Saigon government. No mention of the mistreatment of South Vietnamese and American POWs, including brutal beatings, starvation, forced labor, and psychological torture. No coverage of the Viet Cong’s terror tactics, like bombings of civilian areas in Saigon and other cities. But there was plenty of footage of American soldiers either carrying out orders or disobeying orders to commit war crimes.   Nearby there was the Requiem Exhibition, dedicated to remembering Vietnam war photographers, some of whom were killed or went missing. The bravery of these war photographers (and war photographers in general) cannot be overstated. It was a testament to the courage of photographers, coming from all over the world to document important moments during the war. Clippings from US newspapers decorated the walls, as well as stand-alone copies of Vietnam war photographs. This was the first war that people could follow along with at home, and some of the American news footage was shown next to photographs of the same event.   Next, the Historical Truths collection provided context to the war. Newspaper clippings, images, and U.S. soldiers’ testimonies covered the walls, providing a broader (but not complete) picture

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Day In Downtown Hanoi – February 23rd

In the hustle and bustle of downtown Hanoi, our two little foreigner selves had managed to somehow find our way to the correct street. We’d set out for a day of exploration in the city, starting with the Temple of Literature. Nestled in the heart of Hanoi, all 580,000 square feet of this walled temple are dedicated to Confucius, past sages, and scholars. Though it sounds like it would be a giant library, the purpose of this structure was more academic in nature. Built in 1070 by Emperor Ly Thanh Tong, the temple originally housed the Imperial Academy—Vietnam’s first national university. Starting in 1076, male members of the royal family, wealthy landowners, and nobles studied and took exams there until the university was relocated to Hue in 1779. To put that in perspective, in 1076, William the Conqueror was alive and doing his thing—conquering, being king, all that. Fast forward 703 years to 1779, and you’d find America deep in the Revolutionary War. Not to state the obvious, but that’s quite a lifespan for a university. Today, the temple is open to the public for a small fee, where locals and tourists alike can walk the grounds. If inclined, visitors can also pray to Confucius at any of the shrines, or leave offerings. Once you walk through the entrance gate, the path diverges into three stone walkways, reserved for different social classes. Back in the day, only monarchs could walk on the middle path. John and I, the rebels that we are, decided to walk a bit on the middle path – scandalous. We wandered past a large rectangular pool filled with green water that was probably once pristinely clear. The air was particularly noxious that day, so I wore masks the entire time. Fun fact: Hanoi’s air quality can sometimes reach 179—compared to the healthy range of 0-50. Another fun fact: as of 2023, Hanoi had 7.8 million (mostly gas-powered) registered vehicles for a population of just over 8 million. Quite lovely. Anyways, when the pollution is especially bad, the smell of exhaust vanishes if you wear an N95 – so hot tip folks, bring your masks or purchase some when you come to Hanoi. After staring at the green water for a bit, we made our way into the next courtyard. The temple has five courtyards in all. The first two were created to be tranquil spaces where scholars could roam without the worry or stress of their studies. Big banyan trees dotted the grounds here, and you could almost see how lush and green these spaces must have looked. The third courtyard has a massive rectangular pool called the Thien Quang Well, where over 50 sparkly koi fish live. When we looked down into the pool, most of the koi were flopping over each other in a 2’ by 2’ section. I watched as a local reached his arm over the side of the well and wiggled his fingers above the koi. He didn’t have food, and yet the koi were clamoring to the spot where he was wiggling his fingers. It felt like I was witnessing a type of sorcery, but I’m guessing they were just fed – but who knows, maybe magic does exist? In this area, we also found the revered blue stone steles: national holy animal sculptures (mostly turtles) with tombstone-like tablets rising from their backs. Each stele contains the names and birthplaces of the 1,307 graduates of the grueling royal exams. The farther down the row of steles you looked, the shape and size of the turtles change representing the passage of time.  The fourth and fifth courtyards contain indoor spaces dedicated to Confucius shrines and worship. A large black stone statue of Chu Van An, a rector of the academy, sat in the final part of the temple. Here, many visitors stopped to pray, briefly pressing their hands together and bowing their heads in respect. Beautiful red wooden beams adorned with golden writing were found all throughout this room. Among the offerings left behind at Chu Van An’s shrine, we noticed someone left an entire six-pack of Red Bull—along with fruit piles, Vietnamese dong (official currency), and lanterns. The silence of those in prayer mixed with people were walking around taking pictures of the shrine was slightly uncomfortable. It was unclear what the proper protocol was for taking pictures, though pictures weren’t actively discouraged in any part of the temple. I guess’s how it goes when a temple is acting as both an active place of worship and a tourist attraction. There were also tourists who brought professional cameras for photo shoots in the temple, so it was a bit of a mix.  After the temple, John and I walked for about 10 minutes, dodging scooters, looking out for trash piles on the sidewalks, and meandering around local street food carts, until we arrived at Train Street. Even though it’s not a shopping district for model trains (big bummer honestly), it was still very cool. Train Street is a stretch of restaurants and shops that sandwich a functioning train track. Here, restaurant owners openly encourage customers to come sit and eat, by waving them over. Bright lights, lanterns, and quirky names like “Anna Coffee” decorate the storefronts. In front of the restaurants are their seating areas, right up against the track. While diners enjoy their meals (which are all cooked at shared kitchens as there’s not enough space in every restaurant), vendors walk up and down selling fruit, cigarettes, and pop-up greeting cards.  At different times, a train does runs through the area, which is a big draw for tourists (like us!). About 15 minutes before it arrives, restaurant owners begin moving tables and chairs out of harm’s way—though only far enough that visitors won’t get hit as they watch the train go by. Police and security also walk the tracks, calling for people to “get back.” Then, once the train whistle blows, everyone cranes their necks to get their

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Introduction to Vietnam – February 19th & 20th

My hands found John’s, gripping tightly, memories of recent news reels flashing across our minds as the plane seemingly hovered above the runway on its last descent. A pause that lasted for eternity. Then BANG! Laughter followed by, “Well, that was a bit of a rough landing.” I looked at my watch—10:30 pm. Wrangling our backpacks from the overhead compartment, we made our way down the aisle past the Japanese flight attendants wishing us “happy memories.”   Bleary-eyed, John and I found ourselves 20 people deep in line to see the border guard. 10:40 pm. 10:50. Finally, passports stamped. √ Baggage Claim Found. √ Customs? Not so much. After splitting up and securing our bags, we regrouped, confused. The exit was partially blocked by a dark, seemingly closed customs area where a young guard in a brown tailored uniform stood lackadaisically behind a desk. The group of travelers ahead of us trickled past him, unnoticed. “Should we just go?” I asked John. No one was checking visas. “I guess?” He said with uncertainty. Walking past the guard without so much as a glance from him, we exited the building.    A cacophony of honks and voices surrounded us as we stepped into the thick lukewarm air. “Do you want a taxi? Taxi? Hey, Miss, want a taxi?” I shook my head. John waved a “no” with his hand. We moved off to the side of the pickup area, away from the crowd. John took out his phone and ordered us a Grab (app like Uber, because Uber doesn’t work in Vietnam). A red Honda Civic pulled up to the curb in front of pillar 18. “This is us,” John said, opening the door to a pristine leather interior. As I slid into the backseat, I noticed a golden Buddha sitting on a throne of lotus leaves, watching me from the dashboard. The car smelled like cigarette smoke, clinging to the fabric. John and I shared a look of anticipation as the driver pulled out into the busy airport intersection, expertly navigating the crowd and narrowly missing a woman on a scooter. Hurray, we were off to the Chemi Noi Bai Airport Hotel.     After a comfy sleep, morning arrived too soon. We sat in big, yellow, high-backed chairs in Chemi Noi Bai Airport Hotel’s check-in area, waiting for our Grab driver to arrive to take us to our Airbnb. Beyond the colossal glass entrance, scooters zipped by. A woman in a puffy North Face jacket and pink gloves trundled past, navigating the muddy, gray road, carrying a bag of leaves on her back. Two identical sisters rode in the opposite direction—one, the passenger, engrossed in her phone, while the driver wore a blue surgical mask, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Both wore Adidas sweatpants.   Before we knew it, our driver had arrived. Quickly, we wrangled our luggage and went out to meet him. The driver, after tetrising three of our bags into his labrador-sized trunk, insisted on placing my backpack in the passenger seat (which had been scooted forward until it nearly touched the glove compartment). Our concierge closed the car door behind us.    Now, a brief preface before the next part of this blog post – I wanted to share with you our initial experience of a Grab ride in Vietnam, because it was unlike anything we had experienced before.  As John and I watched the countryside roll by, a symphony of honks interacted with our driver and his Mazda 3. Each beep served a purpose: “Hey, I’m passing you” (our driver to a scooter on our right), “You’re about to crash into us if you continue left” (from the car behind us), “I’m trying to turn” (from a massive semi in the middle of the intersection). Beep beep beep—“You go ahead.” Beep beep beep—“Thank you.” Keep in mind as you read this that these honks happened on and off during the entire car ride.   A black puppy, ribs visible, sniffed through trash on the roadside as we passed. Beyond it, rice paddies stretched out with workers in straw hats tending to their fields. A lone scarecrow-like figure, mirroring them in its own straw hat, stood motionless, keeping watch. Piles of garbage accumulated against a wire fence, followed by advertisements plastered on makeshift walls. A construction yard with towering cranes and scaffolding rose in contrast to a nearby graveyard, its tombstones crumbling into a sinkhole. Beyond that, a vast green field stretched by, dotted with tiny shacks.   The gray fog and pollution wrapped around our car like a toxic embrace. Bus stations, car repair shops, and—of all things—a massive pickleball court lined the road as our driver squeezed between a hoard of scooters. The high-rises we passed appeared to be mostly hotels, towering amongst the shops and residential buildings. More piles of trash passed by, some along the train tracks, scattered refuse between homes. Two schoolgirls in uniforms rode a scooter together, plush keychains dangling from the younger one’s backpack. Helmets here are unique—pink with cat ears, yellow and shaped like baseball caps.   Shacks clung to the side of overpasses. A line of thirteen buses—some abandoned and filled with trash, others seemingly just parked—sat under the same bridge. A pristine Range Rover dealership stood proudly, next to a row of crumbling buildings. Two dogs lounged in a yard. Amidst everything, palm trees and tropical plants I’d only ever seen in greenhouses back home thrived.   I blinked, and a baseball field-sized stretch of land overflowing with plastic pallets dipped in and out of view. Blink. More shops, wedged between residential buildings, their walls patched together with metal roofing. Blink. A hundred semi-trucks parked in neat rows, their shipping containers stacked separately. A man without a helmet sat  on his scooter, phone pressed to his ear as traffic whizzed by. Blink. A pond of murky brown water, shacks teetering on its edge. Palm trees lined the highway, reminding me of Hollywood Boulevard. Women

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My Birthday In Japan – February 18th

Today, we woke up to a beautiful ray of sunshine, streaming through the window of our fourth-floor hostel room. When we looked out, we could see the Tokyo Skytree standing strong in the distance. It’s the tallest man made structure in Japan, functioning as both an observation tower and broadcasting station. John took a tour of it yesterday, while I visited the Ghibli Museum in Mitaka as a birthday present to myself. As stated on the Ghibli Museum’s official website, “Tickets become available for purchase at 10 a.m. (JST) on the 10th of each month for the subsequent month.” Unfortunately tickets sell out hours after the ticket portal opens. So as a loophole for unplanned travelers, the Willer Travel Company offers a tour from Kichijōji Station to the museum, with admission included. The tour costs 5,500 yen, instead of the standard 1,000 yen admission for adults. It was worth it though! An adorably small Japanese tour guide took us on an educational jaunt around the park, stopping at different temples and historical landmarks along the way. She was so small that she brought a collapsible metal pole with a giraffe stuffy tied to the end, to mark where she was at all times.   The museum was on the smaller side, with one main building and a cafe. Your ticket includes a framed strip of film reel, that grants access to the Saturn Theater. Here, exclusive Studio Ghibli short films are shown that you can’t see anywhere else (unless it’s bootlegged on YouTube). Nestled in the lower level of the museum, this cosy 80 seat theater runs its films every 15 minutes. Hand-painted windows (that are so realistic that I had to do a double-take) dot the walls, giving the illusion of sunlight streaming in. For the real windows, when it’s time to dim the lights automated window covers slowly rise, plunging the theater into darkness. Right now until February 28th, Mei and the Baby Cat Bus is playing. It’s a short sequel of sorts to My Neighbor Totoro. It was such a cute movie. I won’t give anything away other than… there are different sized cat buses!!   The rest of the museum focuses on Hayao Miyazaki’s art and the movie-making process. Many of the rooms are recreations of Hayao Miyazaki’s work spaces. As Miyazaki himself said of the museum: Overall, I think he helped create a museum that meets his mission well. One of my favorite things about this museum was getting to see the behind the scenes evolution of Studio Ghibli characters that I love. For example, Kiki from Kiki’s Delivery Service has short black hair and a dark blue dress. But in some earlier designs, she had bright orange hair tied in pigtails with bright pink bows. When watching the movie, you’ll notice there is a witch with bright orange hair tied up in pigtails… I like to think she’s a nod to one of Kiki’s earlier versions.   The walls of three exhibits were covered (from floor to ceiling) in drawings, paintings, sketches of characters, scenes, and things that never made it to the screen. You could spend hours looking at all of the magic in the rooms, and not notice everything. Not only was the art amazing, but the room recreations themselves were visually enticing. From eccentric books on fanciful fish, to a felted Totoro doll on a string, to a personal heater, the rooms were packed with an eclectic array of items – it felt like you were within one of Miyazaki’s films yourself!   In one room, there was a machine once used to visualize animated scenes in pre-production. Though I didn’t write down the name of it, the entire unit was taller than me, encased in glass, with a conveyor belt and a scope. Miyazaki would place a painted background on the conveyor belt, which could be moved manually with a crank. Then, he’d layer painted cels with characters or objects, on top. By adjusting the scope and cranking the conveyor belt, he could watch how the characters moved across the scene. For example, there was a beautiful landscape painting on the conveyor belt, with a hot air balloon cel placed on top. When I cranked the conveyor belt and looked through the scope, it looked like the hot air balloon was moving across the countryside. Machines like these were used in traditional cel animation. If you love early technology and art, trying this out would be right up your alley.   While I was walking through the exhibits, I kept reflecting on this: there is something so beautiful about people who can take the images/ideas from their head and capture them on paper, exactly as they see them. I mean, the way Hayao Miyazaki can use simple pen sketches to convey complex emotions in characters’ faces… it’s unreal. Disgust, rage, slight annoyance, it was all there on pen and paper, in what looked like a five minute doodle. Seeing different angles of characters to enhance their design – top down, side, back views – was also a highlight. To me, the ability to create and bring to life art like that is a form of magic. I’m so happy I got to see this museum.   Then, for my actual birthday, we packed up our things and went to a cute Airbnb, 7 Rooms Hotel & Cafe. As the name suggests there’s a cafe, 7 hotel rooms, and a cute little flower shop all mixed into one. Best of all, the room had a washer/dryer combination! We really needed to do laundry before our Vietnam flight the next day.   Wanting to have a lower-key day before our flight, we didn’t stray too far from the hotel. We borrowed some badminton equipment, and played for a bit in the park across the road. For dinner, we went to a kaitenzushi place. Unlike in American conveyor belt sushi restaurants, the shop is completely automated. Once you get there, you take

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Valentine’s Day in Tokyo – February 14th

Hiya folks,   Today started like any other at Hotel Graphy Nezu – Happy to be in Japan, but questioning our life choices of getting a dorm room instead of a private. One of our bunkmates has been coughing up a lung every night. She’s stationed in the top bunk, right across from me. I just shut my little curtain, plug in my earplugs, and think anti-sick thoughts (thoughts and prayers y’all).   Then there’s our other bunkmate. The snorer. Not just any snorer—chainsaw loud. Needs a C-PAP machine loud. Every so often, he’d have one so outrageous that John and I would have to cover our mouths to keep from laughing too loudly. Let’s just say, we’re a little sleep deprived.   Running on fumes, we decided to check out Ueno Zoo, just a five-minute walk from the hostel. I had mixed feelings about going as Japan isn’t known for stellar animal welfare practices. And unfortunately, this turned out to be true at this zoo. The enclosures were tiny, dingy, and lacked any real attempt at mimicking the animals’ natural habitats. Picture a metal cage with some hay/dirt on the ground, an automatic water feeder, and a tree thrown in as an afterthought. At least there was water, I guess?   A few highlights: The emu stood alone in its cramped enclosure, a bald stripe running down from its head to its back. No space to run, no companions. The red pandas paced in circles around the edge of their enclosure, the entire time we were there. A little kid nearby asked, “Mummy, why are they walking around and around?” Her mother replied, “They are walking around and around, aren’t they?” Poor little guys. The goat looked malnourished—its belly caved in, its legs trembling as it moved. Two exotic pheasants scratched and pecked at the doorsof their enclosures, desperate for escape. The penguins stood facing the wall, motionless—a common sign of stress in captivity. It was hard to watch. Harder still was the contrast: wealthy zoo-goers, many of them dressed in expensive clothes, taking photos and giggling at the animals, seemingly oblivious to the neglect surrounding them.   We left after the panda exhibit. I couldn’t stomach any more of it. It was interesting to learn that even though Japan has its kawaii culture, the real, living animals—the ones their plushies are modeled after—aren’t treated with more care. With all of Japan’s scientific advancements, there’s definitely opportunity for inventive animal care products and zoo design. Maybe someone will read this blog post and get an idea for a business. Pssst, if that happens, I call dibs on 25% of the revenue.   After shaking off the zoo experience, we decided to visit Tokyo Tower. Well, decided in the sense that I keep agreeing to visit these tall buildings without fully realizing how tall they are until I’m standing right in front of them. The moment we stepped off the metro and Tokyo Tower came into view, my stomach dropped.   The structure is striking—its orange latticed beams and splayed legs resemble the Eiffel Tower, yet it has a presence all its own. Somehow, every time I looked up, it seemed to grow taller. In the center, a main elevator whisks visitors up to the observation deck, while another takes you even higher.   John, the brave man that he is, was thrilled to go as high as possible. Heights don’t faze him at all, which is both impressive and slightly unsettling—like, are you even human? He was equally enthusiastic about taking the stairs down instead of the elevator, like a little golden retriever. Mind you, these stairs are open to the outside, with only a thick net serving as a barrier. If you look down, you can see all the way to the bottom. My legs started shaking so badly, I was convinced I was about to dissolve into a puddle right then and there.   But somehow we made it down to the surface again. And the Earth continued to turn. And our lives went on. Thank goodness for that, because we found a Hawaiian Poke place for dinner in the heart of Tokyo, which was to die for. The perfect way to wrap up the day.    Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!   -W

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Tokyo Exploration Day – February 13th

Hi folks, here’s a quick catch-up:   Yesterday we made it to Tokyo! After a three-hour Shinkansen trip (Japan’s bullet train), we found our way to Hotel Graphy Nezu—the hostel we booked for a week. It’s a nice place, catering to folks in their mid-20s to 40s. There’s a cute common area down the hall from us with couches and a TV, connected to a huge communal kitchen. On the roof, there’s a terrace lounge with a nice view of the Ueno neighborhood. Our room has two sets of bunk beds, each with a curtain for privacy, plus lockers. I took the top bunk because it makes me feel safer, and John got the bottom since it has a little more space.   Today, we set off to explore a bit of Tokyo, with our first stop = breakfast. Where? The Egg Baby Café. On the way there, we stumbled across an outdoor market with fish, candied fruit, and all sorts of knickknacks. The hustle and bustle of the market made it a very dynamic and lively place. John and I tried the candied fruit and 10/10. The crunch of the candy coating with the juicy fruit underneath made for a fresh and yummy combo. The Egg Baby Café was exactly what you might expect—a café specializing in egg-related dishes, including desserts.   After a eggy breakfast, I had a doctor’s appointment at the Tokyo Station International Clinic. I highly recommend this clinic if you ever find yourself in Tokyo and need to see a physician in person for any reason. The staff and physicians were friendly, informative, and efficient—I was in and out in under 15 minutes. And, the pharmacy they partner with is just down the street, which the receptionist will send you to with a map of how to get there.   One of the main things I’m enjoying about Japan is how punctual everything is—the trains, appointment times, even the closing times of attractions. For example, when we visited the Kyoto Imperial Palace, the last group to be let in was at 3:20 p.m. I arrived at exactly 3:20, and I was the last person admitted. Three palace staff members stood by the entrance, checking their clocks to ensure everything remained on schedule.   Once we finished with the appointment, we headed to the Tokyo Imperial Palace, where the current Japanese emperor resides. The Imperial Palace sits on the former site of Edo Castle, which was once the home of the Tokugawa Shogunate (1603–1868). The shogunate was overthrown in 1868, and the imperial residence moved from Kyoto to Tokyo. It’s neat that we’ve been able to see both historical sites on this trip. While we couldn’t enter the palace itself, we were able to explore the Imperial Palace East Gardens, which are open to the public.   The palace gardens have wide walkways lined with pine trees and are flanked by massive stone walls—easily four times my height. Some remnants of Edo Castle still stand, including beautifully preserved stone foundations. Walking to the top of these ruins made me marvel at the passage of time.  Japan has had centuries of history, war, rulers, cultural shifts—so much change, and yet the country still stands. At the Samurai and Ninja Museum Experience in Kyoto, our tour guide mentioned that many Tokyo residents are descendants of samurai families, though the exact percentage is unclear. While the samurai class was officially abolished in the 1870s, their influence is still deeply ingrained in Japanese culture. By contrast, America is a baby nation—barely 249 years old. It really puts things into perspective.   After exploring the palace grounds, we spent the afternoon at the Tokyo Science Museum—and it was amazing! Five floors of interactive science exhibits, ranging from optical illusions to the physics of sound, data storage, and beyond. I grew up near a science museum, but this one blew it out of the water. A large exhibit of the museum focused on climate change and renewable energy, all with interactive exhibits and hands-on learning. It was great to see so many school groups engaging with the displays and getting excited about science. One of my favorite sections was on sustainability and how Japan is working toward the 2030 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs)—a UN action plan aimed at achieving global peace and prosperity through 17 key goals (such as ending hunger and ensuring equitable education for all). I was really impressed by how prominently it was featured at the museum.   After an unexpectedly three-hour deep dive into the museum, we returned to the hostel for dinner at its café. All in all, a well-rounded day!   -W

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Nara Park – February 9th

Today, we ventured out to Nara Park in the Nara prefecture—a vast park filled with temples, museums, and freely roaming deer. We left our Airbnb around 12:30 and walked half a mile to the nearest metro station. The walk was enjoyable, thanks to the smaller cars, slower traffic, and the general respect given to pedestrians. It truly feels like the road is a shared space between cars, pedestrians, and bicyclists here. Like anywhere, people add cute and quirky touches to the fronts of their homes—garden clown statues, framed fish—little details I love to notice. I enjoy observing things like the shape of a house’s windows, how the houses cluster together, or how many plants line a doorway.   I needed to add more money to my IC card, so we stopped at a 7-11 on the way to the station to withdraw some cash. We learned that to have a mobile version of the IC card in your Apple Wallet, you need a non-Visa credit/debit card (for some reason, non-JP Visas don’t work for this purpose). Without that, you have to add cash to the physical card at a Family Mart or a metro station ticket machine. Once that was squared away, we took the M line to a station where we could transfer to the Kintetsu Express Line to Nara Park. Fun fact: three trains go from Osaka to Nara Park—the express (40 mins), rapid express (35 mins), and limited express (30 mins). The express and rapid express accept regular IC card swipes, while the limited express requires an additional ticket. Our express train ride was quiet and clean, as loud conversations (in person or on the phone) aren’t socially accepted in Japan, especially on public transit. Most people journal, scroll their phones, or sit quietly, making for a relaxing ride.   Once we got off the metro, it was a short walk to the park. We knew we were getting close when we started seeing “Caution: Deer Crossing” signs. Inside Nara Park, deer were everywhere! They’re tiny—about waist height—and very socialized. In Japan, deer are considered sacred, and hunting them has never really been a thing. Vendors were selling round deer crackers for 200 JPY (about $1.32). John and I both got a pack and started wandering the grounds, feeding the deer. It was so cute—you guys, the deer are used to interacting with people by bowing! If you bowed, the deer would bow back before you fed them a cracker. Some deer were too sleepy for food, just lying down and napping. In certain roped-off areas, deer would poke their heads through to grab crackers, and as soon as one figured out you had food, others would rush over, playfully “competing” for the treats.   After we ran out of crackers, we split up to find lunch. I was craving ramen, while John wanted to try the Nara Museum Café. I was a little nervous about sitting down at a Japanese restaurant alone, but it went smoothly. The ramen spot was just off the park, with a plaque at the bottom of the stairs reading, Enter Here. I walked through the hanging ramen-patterned curtains and headed up. The attendant at the counter smiled, led me to a six-person table, and gestured for me to sit. She brought me water, pointed to the chopsticks in a cup, and handed me a menu. A little later, another attendant came over and asked me something in Japanese—I assume it was, Are you ready to order? I smiled and pointed to the ramen I wanted. He nodded, asked a few more questions I couldn’t answer, then took my menu. A few minutes later, the first woman returned, gesturing for me to move to a counter seat by the window, apologizing with multiple “sorry, sorrys.” Honestly, I was grateful—people-watching made the experience even better. The ramen was delicious. Thankfully, the table number marker had Please take with you when you pay written on it, which helped me figure out how to check out. I’m so appreciative of the patience people have had with me as I navigate my new-to-country confusion. By the time I finished eating, John had already headed into the Nara National Museum, so we met up at the gift shop in the basement accessible to those without tickets. Then, he went to the Todaji Museum, while I explored the Nara National Museum.   The museum displayed artifacts and artwork from across Japanese history, from 1130 AD to modern times. One of the coolest exhibits was a video about the Shuni-e, a Buddhist service held annually since the Nara period. Every spring, ten monks gather to pray for universal peace, national prosperity, and a joyful life for all. The exhibit showcased ritual items like sacred water vessels, fire-burning branches, and monks’ robes. Another fascinating section focused on Japanese Buddhist statuary. Since wood is abundant in Japan, most Buddhist statues here are wooden. To make them lighter, many are hollowed out. The exhibit went in detail into the different techniques used to create these statues, ranging from joining two pieces of individually carved wood together to gluing multiple pieces of wood into one big block for carving.   After finishing at the museum, I walked across the park to Todaji Temple, home to the Great Buddha Hall. The path was full of deer roaming freely and people feeding them. I met back up with John inside the hall, and oh my goodness. The Great Buddha is truly great. It left me feeling awestruck, to be standing under such a huge statue. Commissioned by Emperor Shomu around 750 AD to bring national peace during social unrest, the gilded bronze statue of Variocana still stands today. At nearly 50 feet tall, the Great Buddha towered over me in a way that felt both peaceful and powerful—unlike anything I had ever experienced. It made me reflect on humanity’s obsession with building massive structures: the tallest skyscraper, the biggest pyramid. But this felt different. It wasn’t about money or fame —it was about reverence, faith, and

Nara Park – February 9th Read More »

Day at the Aquarium – Feb 7th

Today, we started our morning with a light breakfast in our cozy Airbnb in Osaka. To give you an idea of the space, it’s quite small—about 150-200 square feet. A narrow hallway stretches from the front door, where you take off your shoes, leading to the main room. Off the hallway, there’s a washroom (sink + shower + bath), where the shower sprays the entire room, including the sink. The toilet is in a separate room and has a heated seat. There’s also a washer, but instead of a dryer, clothes are hung out on the balcony—even in winter. It’s cute to see hanging laundry on balconies swaying in the wind, as you walk down the street.   For breakfast, we ate food we picked up at a local grocery store last night (which is open 24/7!). It was immediately obvious we weren’t from Japan—we were the only ones speaking English and were using our phones to have apple translate decipher the packaging. I spent at least 10 minutes staring at the bread aisle, hoping to find gluten-free bread, but no luck. At the self-checkout, the attendant had to help me twice—once because I couldn’t figure out how to input the avocado’s produce number, and again because I had no idea how to get plastic bags. Not being able to read or understand 95% of what’s around me has been an experience. It’s amazing how long simple tasks take when you can’t read the language. I’m now realizing just how valuable universally recognized symbols are—like arrows. I’ve definitely taken the “tear here” instructions on sauce packets for granted. My sincerest apologies, sauce packets. Then in the afternoon, we took the metro to the Osaka Aquarium KAIYUKAN, in Osaka. It was pretty amazing, and I don’t say that lightly. When you first enter, you step into a stunning fish tank tunnel, surrounded by fish and rays swimming all around you. As you move through the aquarium, each exhibit showcases a distinct biome, featuring a variety of animals and sea creatures coexisting within their natural environment. The sections are arranged geographically, with the biomes becoming deeper as you descend through the building. One of the highlights is a massive tank where schools of fish, manta rays, and various species of sharks—including whale sharks—gracefully roam. Then, at the very bottom of the aquarium building, in almost pitch black, there were different tanks of jellyfish.   Once we were done with the aquarium, we took the metro to the Shin-Osaka station to pick up some bao steamed buns. The line was around the entire store, but it was worth the wait. More tomorrow! -W

Day at the Aquarium – Feb 7th Read More »