“What happens when people open their hearts?”
“They get better.”
― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood
In 2017, I traveled to Japan to spend Christmas with my friend Ami. I had met Ami a few years earlier in Ningbo while writing for a local magazine. Although she lived in Shanghai at the time, she often socialised with the magazine crew. Over time, we became friends—one crazy friend. After relocating back to Japan, I used that same connection to visit her.
My first stop was Nagoya, and it was freezing the night I arrived. Unfortunately, the taxi driver took me to the wrong hotel, leaving me to drag my luggage through the snow. When I finally reached the hotel, the receptionist informed me that they had no record of my booking. Frustration set in, especially since it was midnight and I was exhausted from walking. Just then, the concierge approached, glanced at my phone, and quietly mentioned that my actual hotel was nearby. He kindly offered to take me there personally, carrying my luggage as we walked, though we didn’t speak much during the short expedition.
A couple of blocks later, we finally arrived at the right hotel. He was so kind and helpful, assisting me with my luggage as we made our way through the entrance. While we waited at the front desk, he took a moment to speak with the other receptionist, explaining in detail why I had arrived so late, ensuring they understood my situation clearly. After swiftly completing the check-in process, he turned to me with a warm smile, saying, “Enjoy your stay in Nagoya.” His genuine kindness made me feel safe and warm during what could have been a stressful arrival.
I haven’t forgotten this feeling, and as a result, I have countless anecdotes from my trips to Japan. The Japanese people consistently go above and beyond my expectations—whether it’s sharing a friendly conversation, offering directions with a smile, or making sure every detail of my visit is taken care of—making me feel not just satisfied but genuinely welcomed.
Now back in Mexico, I crave Japanese food and sake. My longing for Asia is growing stronger. I’ve started painting again, driven by a desire to create. I discovered Kuretake Gansai Tambi watercolours, renowned for their rich pigmentation and quality. After ordering a set of 24 online, painting with watercolours has been soothing for me. However, it has also intensified my yearning for Japan, with its stunning landscapes and imagery.
I quickly ran out of my first set of paints because I thoroughly enjoyed painting leaves and flowers. For my next order, I decided to purchase a larger set of 48 colours from Amazon. To my surprise, I received a text message from the vendor, Mr. Kakehi, who informed me that he was personally tracking my package and that it would arrive in a few days. His message transported me back to Japan, as if I could travel through time.
I replied immediately, expressing my gratitude but also a sense of urgency in hoping for a connection. I genuinely believed the package would arrive as it always did. Unfortunately, this particular package seemed to vanish between post offices and was ultimately deemed lost. I felt it was necessary to update him on the situation, and he responded with heartfelt apologies, acknowledging the inconvenience on behalf of the Mexican Post Office (yes I know…). He took the time to give me additional information, enabling me to reach out the post office for follow-up. This sparked a beautiful exchange between us, and we began to write to each other almost daily, forming a bond over the lost package.
In my letters, I shared memories of my travels to Japan. The beautiful watercolours brought back thoughts of a road trip through Fukuoka. I talked about the joy of running the Tokyo Marathon and my solo visit to the calm temples of Kyoto. Each adventure returned to me, creating a comforting mix of memories. I cherish that time; it was when I felt both graceful and truly alive. I sent him videos of my new home and the cozy space where I paint. He said it was a perfect spot for capturing nature’s beauty, and in that moment, he understood why getting my watercolours on time was so important to me. He wrote me in Spanish and I wrote back in Japanese.
I agreed to have a new set of paintings sent to me for free, so I ordered another one. A few days later, the post office located the lost package, and I quickly let him know. I received the package at home the same day. When I opened it, I saw it was nicely wrapped with a letter introducing the paintings, and there was a small origami piece inside. It was wonderful and reminded me of how beautifully everything is presented in Japan. Even at subway stations, there are little coffee shops with Bento boxes, and their cute display can impress even the most jaded tourist.
In my tropical apartment, I feel a strong longing for Japan, recalling the cold winters that surrounded me. I can almost feel the chilly wind at the entrances of mountain temples and the quiet beauty of Iki Island. As I run around the Imperial Palace in Tokyo, the cold air hits my face, and I deeply miss it all. My conversations with Mr. Kakehi bring back strong memories, lifting my spirit. The last set has arrived, featuring a beautiful origami piece—a golden frog that means so much more than just paper.
The little Flâneuse journal 