As my last night at a hotel draws near, I ask my Internet enablers at Wired Café to assume a fighting pose for a keepsake photo. I also assure them that, much like the Terminator, I'll be back. Then I wave them goodbye, leave, come back to get my luggage which I nearly forgot, wave goodbye again and leave for good this time.
There is a small problem with carrying a three-month supply of insulin. Namely, as the savvy might already know, that it should be kept cold. This I have achieved with the help of hotel minibars and a cold bag. This time at the hotel I find out that the minibar does not take kindly to customers' own things. So after washing dirty clothes and a dirtied man in the bathtub, I fill it with cold water and what little ice I have and stick my medicine floating in it in a plastic bag. I stuff the cold bag in the minibar using some violence and hit the sheets hard.
Finally at the dusk of my first week on the road I meet a friend. About time, too. We spend the day doing nothing of importance and I have my first taste of takoyaki, which is immediately something I also want to learn to make at home. I have to give credit to those film characters who are cronies from different countries, who all speak different languages but yet everyone understands everything. Though there was a theoretical possibility of speaking mixed English, Finnish, Japanese and Swedish and being like The Expendables, only not quite, we stuck with boring old English. Maybe next time.
After a tiring day of having a good time, I take my damned luggage and zoom to Himeji, where my first host awaits. The guy is very nice and we talk until battle fatigue takes its toll.
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