Along the way I stopped into a coffee shop. All around me normal, everyday city types were going about their normal, everyday affairs. Lovers were whispering to each other, businessmen were poring over spread sheets, college kids were planning their next ski trip and discussing the new Police album. We could have been in any city in Japan. Transplant this coffee shop scene to Yokohama or Fukuoka and nothing would seem out of place. In spite of which — or, rather, all the more because — here I was, sitting in this coffee shop, drinking my coffee, feeling a desperate loneliness. I alone was the outsider. I had no place here.
Of course, by the same token, I couldn’t really say I belonged to Tokyo and its coffee shops. But I had never felt this loneliness there. I could drink my coffee, read my book, pass the time of day without any special thought, all because I was part of the regular scenery. Here I had no ties to anyone. Fact is, I’d come to reclaim myself.
My visit to Tokyo is in-part a vacation, but this is a small part. A while ago, when things were very very bad in my life, I’d always leave the house with my passport and credit card. My idea was that instead of jumping off a bridge, I’d just get on a plane to Tokyo. I have no idea why this was, and why I had decided to go to Tokyo, but I’d made my mind up long before I realised I had. Maybe that was the reason I’m drawn to Haruki Murakami’s books? Maybe the books drew me to Tokyo?
The quote above is from the first ever Haruki Murakami book I ever read, and started my desire to read everything he’d ever written. I often try to explain why I like his books, or indeed what they’re about, but always manage to provide an explanation that falls so far short of what they’re really about. All I can say is that these books resonate with me, although I don’t know if it’s because I wanted to travel to Tokyo beforehand. Of course his books don’t feature a Tokyo that you’d see in a travel brochure, but rather speak to me about the relationships and the feelings of the people featured in these books. His work has been described as “easily accessible, yet profoundly complex”, which is probably why I struggle. Imagine a piece of music that just makes you feel alive, or makes you cry. Then try to explain why you like this piece of music…
Am I going there to discover Tokyo, or myself?
