...I got lost in time

The other day I decided to go running. Right now I live in a really small town on the western coast of Estonia that's almost secluded from the rest of the world. At least that's what it looks like since it takes forever for me to get there from my hometown. Anyway, whenever I go running I use a small trail that goes through a pine forest. It is meant for runners and cyclists so right now there's usually a bunch of other people on the trail, going in different directions. But on that day it was completely abandoned and since my phone had run out of battery I'd left it at home. So there I was, running through the woods at sunset with only the sounds of birds and insects accompanying me, breathing in the scent of moss and pine needles. Sounds kind of romantic when I put it like that... and leave out the fact that I was slowly dying of exhaustion and sweating like a pig. Also, there was a bug in my eye and one flew into my nostril as I was running so it wasn't all that pleasant.

But somehow on that run I started thinking about the most romantic time in my life, so to speak. It wasn't romantic in the sense that there was much romance going on in my life (on that front it wasn't all that exciting) but it was a time that was so different, exceptional and removed from my normal routine that it left a lasting impression on me. I still remember that time as if it was yesterday and it always seems to me as if I'd been living in a different world back then. A simpler, more beautiful and more poetic world where time stood still and I had a taste of freedom I'd never had before.

This sounds super sappy when I write it down but that's how it was. But let's get to the point. The time I'm talking about is are the two months I spent in Japan when I was 22. A bit of backstory is necessary here. It was the year I got my Bachelor's in psychology - I had just finished school, gotten into the Master's program but I was not really sure if that's what I wanted to do with my life. Sure, psychology was interesting but I didn't have a passion for it like my peers. I felt like I wanted to help people, to be a counselor but the Master's program was basically meant for people who wanted to do research. So I was a bit stuck. I felt like it was the path I should follow - after all, I'd gotten in and that's what everybody else was doing - but I didn't know if it was something I actually wanted to do. I was anxious, confused and just plain unhappy so one night I decided to apply to a volunteer program that took place in Japan. I didn't expect that they would actually accept me - it was just a random idea that occurred to me in the middle of the night when I should have been long asleep. So when they got back to me and told me they'd be happy to have me in the program I was shocked to say the least.

To be honest, for a few days I was seriously considering bailing on the whole affair. Sure, it was an awesome opportunity to go to Japan - something I'd always wanted to do - but it felt scary as hell. I'd never been that far away from home. I'd only traveled in Europe before (and a day-trip to Morocco that almost doesn't count) and I'd never traveled for so long. Two months in Japan? It was... terrifying! So what made me eventually buy the tickets and go there? I just felt so stuck in my life that I felt I needed an escape. I just needed to run away from myself for a little while. So I did.

It was mid-July when I arrived in the tiny village of Onuma in Hokkaido. It was an unusually hot and sunny summer (according to the locals), which was a welcome change after the chilly and rainy summer we'd been having in Estonia. There were around 15 of us volunteers, we lived in a tiny cottage on the edge of the village, slept on the floor in cramped rooms where you could hardly move around without stepping on someone, cooked meals for eachother and worked every day either around the lake or on the nearby mountain. It was absolutely amazing. Sure, the work was physically demanding and not very exciting. And there wasn't anything to do in the village once we'd finished with our daily chores. And people kept staring at us since we were foreigners. But it was the most carefree time of my life!

In Onuma I had no obligations. Sure, I had to work and cook but that was it. Every morning someone would pick us up and take us either to the mountain or the lake to work, food was brought to us by local farmers and workers, any time we needed anything we could just contact the program coordinator and he would bring us stuff. And it was so quiet. The place was tiny and so secluded from the outside world - it felt like another universe entirely. Everything was taken care of. I didn't need to worry or think about anything. There was no school, no questions about what I wanted to do with my life, no need to worry about money or the future... I was in a dream, living a simple life where all I had to do was wake up at the right time and wait for someone to tell me what I was going to do with the rest of my day. Every day was the same so it was as if time stood still. Even during the weekends when we went to Hakodate, the closest big city, or our coordinator took us to festivals, it felt like time didn't pass. Like the summer would last forever. But of course it didn't...
I met some amazing people during that short period of my life and had some crazy adventures but what I miss most about that time was the freedom. Just being away from everything, in a small forgotten place where people didn't expect anything of me, was just what I needed. I'm not going to lie: after coming back to Estonia there was a long period where I entertained the idea of becoming a goat herder in a mountain village in China. Why goats? Why China? Hell knows! I just wanted to get away and lead a simple life with little to no obligations and worries. And of course I wanted to go back. For me, Onuma had become a symbol of freedom and simplicity and a life free of worries.
I guess many people who've never actually lived in the country have this naive romantic image of 'the simple life'. So did I. It took me a while before I realized that in the long run, I couldn't manage living like that. Two months were fine. Great, even! But you can't run away from who you are indefinitely. And even though I loved being in Hokkaido, it was all in the past. Going back wouldn't have been the same. I managed to escape for a little while but you can't do that forever - that wouldn't be escaping anymore, it would be your life. And even though I love traveling, I need some stability in my life.
So why did I even start this rant? Honestly, I'm not even sure anymore. Probably so I would have an excuse to talk about things that happened ages ago and bring up funny stories from my time in Hokkaido. And to remind myself that it's nice to revisit memories but I should keep in mind that the grass isn't always greener on the other side. The grass in Onuma was green - amazingly so - but it was so only for that one short period. If I would go back now, it wouldn't be as green. Moral of the story: don't start blogging in the middle of the night on an empty stomach. Also, the 'simple life' is fun for a while but sooner or later you need to face reality and realize that life isn't supposed to be simple. Running away can be simple but that's not a life you'd want to lead forever.