...I had no idea what I was in for

After my year abroad, studying in Japan, I had the brilliant idea to head to Hawaii before going back home. I mean, the islands weren't that far away from Japan and I got tickets for a reasonable price. The plan was to head from Japan to Kauai, where Mary lived, spend a week or so there and then head to Estonia. Seemed like the perfect plan: to have a magical vacation before facing the harsh reality of being back home. I got the tickets, packed my bags and headed to the airport on the day I was supposed to leave. I even got and ESTA application so that I could stay in the US for a maximum of 90 days without a visa. Everything was going perfectly... until I got to the airport in Nagoya.

So, apparently the check-in lady had a hard time understanding what my plan was.

'So... You go to America?'

'Yes, to Hawaii. To visit a friend.'

'Ok. So... When you come back?'

'Uh... I won't. I'm going back to Estonia after visiting Hawaii.'

'But you don't have ticket back to Japan?'

'No, because I won't be coming back.'

'So... you staying in Hawaii? You have visa?'

'Ummm... no. I will go back to Estonia. Can't you check my reservation? I am going to Hawaii, then to Estonia.'

'Oh, okay. I will check.' A few moments later. 'Ah, I'm sorry but you have not bought ticket back to Japan.'

'Yeeees, I know. Because I will not be coming back. I will go to Estonia after visiting the US.'

'Ah, sorry! So you live in US?'

'No, I live in Estonia. You have my passport!'

'So... you go to... Esu... Osu.. Australia?'

'What? No! Estonia! Not Australia! But after I visit Hawaii!'

'Ah, excuse me for a moment.'

So I wait there, not even sure what's going on. I mean, it can't be that hard to understand that I'm leaving one country, visiting another one on my way home and then heading back to Estonia. So the nice lady returns and apologizes several times before going:

'Sorry, we can't print ticket to Estonia yet.'

'Yeah, that's fine. I won't need them for another week. Can I just get my ticket to Hawaii?'

'Ah, but where you live in America?'

.....what? Apparently you need to give them an address where they can contact you before you can enter the country. Who would've thought... They asked me for an address on the ESTA application but it wasn't demanded of me so I didn't think it mattered much. So after texting Mary and getting her address, writing it down on a little piece of paper the check-in lady gave me, I thought I was about done. I was wrong.

'Okay, here is your ticket and your bag go to Estonia.'

'Uh... What? No! I need my bag in Hawaii! Didn't we just settle this?'

'Oh, I'm sorry. I go ask.'

A couple of 'lost in translation' moments and many 'sorry's later they finally kind of got what my plan was. At least I think they did - I was still a bit unsure when I left them smiling awkwardly but I hoped for the best. After all, I had my tickets and they assured me my bags would be waiting for me in Hawaii. Great!

The flight was... less than perfect. For some reason the flight from Oahu to Kauai was super cold and I was freezing my ass off in the semi-arctic climate of the airplane. But before I knew it I was in Kauai where everything was vibrant, alive and so colorful it took my breath away. Mary was taking about all the amazing places she wanted to take me and I felt like I'd entered paradise. I never honestly thought that I would ever get to go to Hawaii but there I was. In the flesh... I couldn't wait for the amazing adventures the island had in store for me. 

Or maybe I could... The first place Mary decided to take me was Wailua falls. 'Yay! Waterfalls!' I thought like the naive child I was. 'What could go wrong around a waterfall?' I had no idea what was in store for me. A lot can go wrong near a waterfall. You could die getting to one. So, one morning we - me, Mary, her brother Carter, his girlfriend Caitlin and Kaia, Mary's dog - headed to Wailua falls for a nice refreshing dip. It sounded great. We packed our bags with snacks and beer, took an inflatable float with us and started driving. I remember being super excited. Carter and Caitlin were going to rappel off the falls - I didn't really know how they were going to do it but didn't put much thought into it. It was their hobby - I was just going there to relax. 

After like 30-40 minutes in the car we pulled over at a lookout spot and Mary announced that we'd arrived. Really? I could hear the waterfall but couldn't see anything. I looked up at the mountains surrounding us but couldn't see anything. Weird. We got out of the car and I could finally hear the waterfall but still couldn't see anything... until I looked down into the gaping chasm right in front of us. Oh... there it was... Now I understood Carter and Caitlin's plan. But that didn't explain how me, Mary and Kaia were going to get down there... I mean, the whole area was fenced off, with 'Danger' and 'Stay Out' signs everywhere and the occasional dead body of a fallen hiker sprawled out next to the road to serve as a warning. Okay, I might have made up that last bit but there was a fence and numerous warning signs.
Apparently, in Hawaii warning signs are for losers and tourists. And disregarding the fact that I was both, Mary dragged me through a whole in the fence, onto the edge of the chasm and told me we were going to hike down. 'How?!' was my first thought. The 'trail' went straight down and even the dog - nimble and confident - looked like she was having none of it. I have no words to describe the horrifying gaping abyss that was staring back at me as if it wanted to take my soul. It probably did.
We tried to get down using the path in front of us but that was too steep even for the locals, so we went around... crawling over branches and roots and trying to ignore the fact that there was a 100 meter drop right behind our backs. The way down was the most terrifying hike I'd ever taken. At certain points there were some ropes tied to trees that you could use to slowly make your way down, moving backwards to avoid looking at the chasm. Then there was the mud that made the hike even more slippery and difficult than it already was. Then came the rocks and roots that were trying to trip you up... And did I mention I had to do all that while carrying a backpack filled with beer and snacks? A backpack that kept sliding off and messing with my balance. My balance isn't very good on the best of days and this... this wasn't even a mediocre day. It was hell! I was terrified for my life the whole time so that when we reached the part of the trail that was basically flat I was still holding on to tree branches and vines for dear life.
'You do realize the ground is flat here, right?' Mary asked me while looking at me like I was a maniac cradling an imaginary baby, as I was slowly inching my way forward.
''I know! I just don't care, okay! I might still fall!'
I didn't though and in a few minutes I was down. It felt like the climb had lasted forever, where in reality it probably took like five minutes. But it had been the longest five minutes of my life. Was it worth it, though? Yes, yes it was. The pool was beautiful and the water just perfect to cool off in. The place looked like something out of a movie. Floating in the water and looking up at the falls I felt like I'd been transported to some sort of magical universe filled with fantastical creatures and probably unicorns. For some reason I was also reminded of the Jurassic Park movies... Everything looked so beautiful it was almost unreal - even the wildlife was something I'd only ever seen in movies. I could hardly believe I was there.
The climb back was much easier and less terrifying. For me climbing up has never been a problem since I can always grab onto something. Going down, however, is just the worst. So when we started going back I had no trouble making my way up the steep hill and back to the car. Sure, I was still a bit slow because I'm unaccustomed to climbing in general but I managed. The next day though... Well, let's just say my legs were not very happy with me. And even getting into and out of my bed was a challenge. I didn't even know your legs could hurt in so many different places in so many different ways...

...karaoke was a lie

This year I was in Japan on my birthday. Why? Because to be quite honest, I wanted to get away from home on that day. The older I get the more I start to despise my birthday. Yes, I realize how cliche it sounds but honestly, it's just such a hassle! Not to mention that since most of my friends are all over the place, it would be quite difficult to actually have a party and invite everyone I wanted. And I really don't like to make a big deal of it. So, to make things easier for myself I decided to leave the country altogether and see what Japan has in store for me.

Since we wanted to have a big reunion party anyway, we decided to combine parties and have a big celebration on Saturday, the 21st. I was all up for it because that meant I didn't have to be the center of attention but I could still enjoy an awesome party. Perfect! Our double-birthday-reunion-graduation party took place in our old neighborhood, just a few steps from the apartment building we used to live at. Sure, none of us lived there anymore and we all had to take the train back after the party but there was no other place we wanted to do it. It wouldn't have been right. So for old times' sake we headed to Shiogamaguchi to have our party.

The evening started as usual: we had some drinks, some food, had a nice long chat with everybody. I got to meet people I hadn't seen for two years and it was absolutely amazing. It really felt like I'd gone back in time because everything was so simple. Like no time had passed at all. For a few hours we were just sitting around, enjoying each other's company and toasting to our birthday people, graduates and to our reunion. As our time in the bar was coming to a close, it was time to head to karaoke, as we always did on these occasions.

I guess I didn't mention that the place we were celebrating at was a bar/tavern. The drinks were great and the food wasn't too shabby either but after two hours I felt like some snacks wouldn't hurt. As we were walking out of the bar Ophelie, my friend from France, decided that she desperately wanted a cheese nan. See, our old neighborhood had this amazing Indian restaurant with authentic Indians as owners, cooks and servers. The curry was good, the samosas delicious but the nan bread... It was just to die for! I've never had nan as good as that in my life (granted, I've never been to India, so....)! Especially their cheese nan - a soft round bread filled with delicious melted cheese. Mmmmmm.... cheese.... Anyway, before I knew it Ophelie had grabbed my hand and was running toward the restaurant. I, in turn, grabbed Tytti, who was just at the right place at the right time, and we made a mad dash to the restaurant, which was - surprisingly enough - still open.

I feel like they were just about to close because the place was completely devoid of customers as we burst through the door. Only the cooks and servers were standing around the counter, giving us an inquisitive look as we scooted closer to them, giggling and trying to seem sober (and probably failing at it). We asked if we could get some cheese nan to go and they were kind enough to fire up the stove and oblige. As we were waiting, one of the guys at the counter turned to us and asked us (in Japanese) 'Hey, weren't you guys here two years ago?'

I was shocked - and quite giddy - at that. They remembered us? Sure, we used to frequent the place but that had been two years ago! And I'm sure they'd seen enough foreigners during that period since it was so close to the apartment where both Chukyo and Meijo University exchange students lived. How did they remember us? I mean, sure, I used to go pretty crazy there. I remember one time Tytti and I had an extra nan with our curry and were basically dying laughing as we ate it. Why? Because by the time I'd taken the first bite I knew it was too much and I couldn't possibly finish it but the Northern European in me refused to waste food (even if I had gotten it for free) and so I was just stuffing it in, trying to ignore the pain in my abdomen and the urge to throw up. And I think Tytti felt the same thing. We were both suffering but we just couldn't show it or give up... And for us that was hilarious. But yeah, I didn't expect them to remember us. It was unexpectedly sweet but definitely strange. Two years! 

We explained that we'd been studying abroad two years ago and talked about random stuff while they were making the nan and when they were ready we ran to catch up with the others... which was easier than we thought because they were in still the store a few meters away. The whole group moved to the car-wash/karaoke place (because why wouldn't you karaoke while getting your car washed! Oh, Japan, you so crazy!) and got a big room where we all would fit. A bunch of us crowded into the elevator and headed to the room... only to realize that we had no idea which room was ours... because the person with the receipt wasn't with us... Logic! 

Thankfully the car-wash-karaoke was small enough that we ran into the others as  we exited the elevator and soon enough we were set up in a cozy little room with our snacks and our cheese nan and we were singing all our old favorites. 'Bohemian Rhapsody' is always a fun one, 'I''ll make a man out of you' gets everybody pumped, 'Don't stop believing' is a classic that everybody can sing along to and... 'Thrift shop'? Yeah, sure, why not - because everybody knows the lyrics to 'Thrift shop', right? As always karaoke was a lot of fun. People were dancing, screaming their lungs our singing and just having the time of their lives and so was I. I'd forgotten how much I missed this. Nobody felt shy or awkward singing in front of others and everybody was singing their heart out. I was full of life and full of energy and just loving it.

So, how was it a lie, you might ask.

Well... The thing is... when you're with your friends and slightly tipsy (read: drunk) and you're singing songs that you love, you feel like everything is perfect... and you think you sound awesome... Well, this time Mary recorded some of our karaoke, for the memories. And honestly... listening to the recording the next day was... painful. It's a hard to describe but it was hilariously bad. Like a group of rabid cats danging tap on metal barrels... while trying to play an out of tune violin... It was so bad I couldn't stop laughing after hearing it. Did we really sound like that? Yes. Yes, we did. In karaoke you feel like a superstar! You feel like you know all the lyrics and you sound just like the original singer! Like everything is amazing! Aaaaand then you hear yourself when you're sober and alone and you realize that there's a reason you never sing in front of a crowd. It doesn't take away from the memory: I still had a great time and I regret nothing. I just know now that no matter how well I think I sing, karaoke is a lie. It's kind of like mass hypnosis: if everyone believes they're singing well then it will sound like it... until you're faced with the harsh reality... 

Still, I have to say that it was an awesome birthday party. I remember walking back from the train station after leaving the karaoke place, spraining my ankle, getting some snacks and then just hanging out on a little public balcony with Mary. We were laughing about... something. I can't even remember what but it was hilarious. I didn't even mind the pain in my ankle... And I remember thinking: man, I wish I could be in Japan for every one of my birthdays from now on. Well, who knows - considering my track record I might wind up in Japan again someday... maybe even next year. 

...I was on top of the world

Since I already started talking about my time in Hokkaido, I might as well continue with the theme. Summer is festival season in Japan. In every town, village and city there's at least one big festival during the summer months. I'm not even going to pretend I know what all those festivals are held for but I do know I love them. Japanese festivals are just amazing: street food, fireworks, ban-dancing, the works! Everything is just a hundred times more awesome than usual! I've seen several different festivals during my trips to Japan but the most memorable one has to be the one in Onuma.

It was in August, I don't remember the exact date. By that time I'd already seen two festivals but apparently this new one was going to be much bigger that the others and our volunteer group leader told us that we were going to help with the festival. I had no idea what she meant by that but seeing as we were volunteers I already assumed that we'd gave to do something to help out. So, when the morning of the festival came, I got dressed as usual and headed out with the others, not suspecting a thing.

It was raining in the morning - not heavily but it seemed like it would last for a while. We got to the spot where the festival was supposed to begin and found out that we would be spending the whole day outdoors. Oh yay! Because that's exactly what I want to do on a chilly and rainy morning! The locals gave us some traditional clothes and separated us into two groups: guys and girls. Then they treated us all to a small cup of sake and gave us our assignment. So there were these small shrines standing on huge wooden frames and apparently our job was to carry them across the village, stop at certain designated spots, twirl the thing around a few times and then head off to another spot. It was some sort of... uh... religious custom? That was supposed to bring prosperity to wherever we went? Honestly, I don't remember exactly what it all meant but I knew it had some significance. The shrines might have looked small but with the decorations and the wooden frame it was supported on, it must have weighed at least 100 kilos if not more. My guess is more. Sure, we weren't the only ones carrying it. A bunch of women from the village gave us a hand. But it was still pretty heavy and carrying it across town in the rain did not seem like an enjoyable enterprise. Still, we were volunteers, there to help out... 

What started as a daunting task soon became a magical journey as we discovered that not all was bad. Sure, the shrine we were carrying was heavy and the road was long but there was a bunch of us joking around, chatting and having fun. After the first stop where we had to run around in circles with the shrine thingy and bob it up and down, we got to set it down for a moment and enjoy the buffet that was set out for us. There were some snacks, water, juice and of course alcohol. On a rainy day like that it was very much welcomed and I helped myself to some beer and chips before moving on. I soon discovered that the whole festival was like that: we would reach some sort of store or other public spot and the people there would offer us food, drinks and mostly alcohol. The entire point was to get the shrine-carriers drunk so it would be easier and much more fun to carry those things around. Suddenly I didn't feel bad about drinking before noon anymore and the road ahead looked much more fun. 

After being treated to beer, wine, sake and even champagne we reached the center of the village where suddenly the guys were looking for volunteers from among the girls. Volunteers for what? I had no idea but I was buzzed enough to do it, whatever it was. So I followed some Japanese guy to the men's shrine and turned out that they needed a girl to climb onto the wooden frame and stand in front of the shrine while they carried it around town. Hmm... Standing on top of a wet and heavy wooden frame with nothing to hold onto while a bunch of drunk guys carry you around town, twirl you and try to toss you off the thing? That sounded... awesome! I still don't know why they wanted a girl to stand on the shrine but I don't really care either. Perhaps it was some sort of tradition. Perhaps they just wanted to have fun. Or maybe it was some strange ritual and they were offering the girl to Satan. All I know is that it was absolutely amazing! And crazy! Definitely crazy!
I wasn't the first girl up there - they gave all the volunteer girls a shot. My first ride lasted only a few minutes and wasn't all that eventful but standing on top felt wonderful. A part of me realized that the wooden boards I was standing on were wet and slippery and my hold on the shrine wasn't all that stable. Also, I noticed that the guys carrying the shrine were getting pretty tipsy and the shrine was swaying from side to side. It was great! After a while it was someone else's turn on top and then another girl's until all of us had been there at least once. But there was still a long way to go and a lot more to drink. Again it was time to find a volunteer who would be willing to climb up there for a second time. Guess who was the first in line.
So there I was again, standing on the slippery wooden grate and waving my arms around as the guys carrying the shrine were literally jumping and swaying the thing from side to side. Yup, I wasn't even holding onto the thing because I felt invincible. I guess it was mostly because of the alcohol but also the atmosphere, the people and the adrenaline rush I got from standing high above everyone else made me feel fearless and... even powerful. I was having the time of my life, yelling out random Japanese words that everyone else was chanting but I didn't know the meanings of. Didn't even matter. Sure, I was completely drenched by that point - because it hadn't stopped raining for one moment - and doing something kind of stupid and completely reckless but I didn't feel the cold or the rain or the fear... I just felt... happy. I was a part of this crazy drunken ritual and I was loving it! Even when we crossed a bridge and the guys started to jump on one leg, making the shrine sway like crazy, I had no doubt in my mind that everything would be fine. And it was!
By the time the festival was over it had almost stopped raining. We were treated to more food and drinks and because we were all wet and half frozen we headed home to relax and have a short nap before the after party that was going to take place in a few hours. I got back to my room, changed out of my dripping clothes and crawled onto my tiny little futon on the floor. I woke later at 3 pm with a hangover. Oh yeah, did I mention that the festival started at 8 in the morning? Because it did. And that was the first and last time in my life I've gotten that drunk before 5 pm. Then again, it's always 5 pm somewhere, isn't it. (Fun fact: that was the first time in my life I heard that phrase and I've been using it ever since. Not every day, of course... I don't have a problem!)

...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.

...my little black dress became my undoing

The other day I was walking back from the store when I passed a woman in a white dress. The woman had platinum blonde hair, tons of make-up on and the dress had a zipper in the front that went all the way down. 'Wow!' I thought, 'that dress is kind of slutty. Or really slutty. Why would any self-respecting woman wear...' And then I remembered and my thoughts turned to 'oh... riiiiight...'

For those who don't know, I have a little black dress. It's a great dress! Not too short, not too long, nothing too fancy – the perfect dress to wear to parties. Only problem? It has a zipper in the front... that goes all the way down. It's not a decorative zipper either. That's how I get it on and off: I put it on as I would a jacket and zip it up. That's part of the reason I actually bought the dress: it was so easy to put on and take off. No worries about deodorant stains, no messing up my hair, I could slip into it in two seconds. It was great! And it looked cute and comfy so I made up my mind in no time. But I forgot one glaring flaw the dress had: it had a ZIPPER in the FRONT.

For a little while I was pretty happy with my dress. I didn't have many chances to wear it but when I did I felt great. Until I decided to go clubbing in it. You know what's a really bad idea? Wearing a dress with a zipper in the front around drunk people. Drunk people who tend to get mischievous and just want to see the world burn. I learned that the hard way.

This happened a while ago, when I was still living in Nagoya. A bunch of us decided to go to our favourite club one night and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to wear my zipper-dress. After all, what could go wrong! I faintly remember getting ready with my friends and Mary saying something along the lines of: 'You know I'm gonna try to unzip that dress, right?' And I remember laughing at that. Because really! I'm used to my friends jokingly threatening me like that. There was no way she was seriously considering that.

To be honest, I don't think she was completely serious when she said it. But it's easy to forget yourself when you're in a nightclub, the music pumping, people dancing and the beat coursing through your body. It's like being transported into another world. Whenever I'm clubbing I lose sense of what's real – I'm in my own little dance bubble and nothing else exists. Granted, the music has to be good for that to happen and I have to be with the right people. That night everything was in its place. I was with my friends, the music was awesome (I couldn't for the life of me tell you what songs they were playing but I remember really getting into it) and I was just feeling it.

And then I felt someone grab the zipper in front of my dress and pull it down. I'm pretty sure I let out a loud yelp but thankfully nobody could hear it over the blaring music. I didn't have time to give Mary my best death glare because I was too busy trying to pull the zipper back up. I'm sure she was laughing... Thankfully she hadn't managed to pull the zipper all the way down – just until my belly-button – so it wasn't that difficult to get it up. And since we'd been dancing in a circle with the other girls I'm pretty sure that the club wasn't aware of me involuntarily flashing them. I got the zipper back up in no time but that wasn't the end of it. Before I could react Mary had grabbed the hem of my dress and yanked it up, exposing way too much of my thigh to the gazes of any and all onlookers. Exasperated, I bent down to cover myself which is when Mary went to the zipper again. I stumbled back like a cat with a bag over its head – confused, shocked and hilariously helpless – as I was trying my best to avoid losing my dress completely.

Mary was having the time of her life laughing at me and she wasn't the only one. I'm pretty sure the other girls had a good laugh too. I can't remember the exact conversation we had when we were going back home but I'm pretty sure it went something like:

'I can't believe you did that!'

'Come on, you were asking for it!'

'No, I wasn't!'

'You're wearing a dress with a zipper in front!'

'...'

Well, I guess this is the part where I could've gone all feminist on her ass and raged about choice and the right to wear what I want without having to fear sexual harassment but... I was wearing a zipper-dress... I mean, I know I was not asking for someone to unzip me but... There's a time and a place for certain kind of clothing and if you, for example, wear a giant kick me sign around tipsy people, you can't really be mad when someone actually kicks you. Can you? I can already hear dozens of feminists going 'Yes, you can!'. But I choose not to be mad. I made my choice and had to deal with the consequences. Moral of the story: don't wear a zipper-dress in a nightclub. Actually, don't wear a zipper-dress anywhere. Don't even own a zipper-dress. It only brings trouble!

So, did I get rid of my zipper-dress after that incident? Nope, far from it. I've worn it plenty of times since. Why, when I know it tempts people to do crazy things? Hey, I payed good money for that dress and by god, I'm gonna wear it! Also, I still think it's kind of cute... and really comfy... And what are the odds of any of my friends pulling a stunt like that again?

...there was too much beer

You know what I really love about Japan? Their all-you-can-eat/all-you-can-drink restaurants/bars. A lot of places have these offers: you pay a set price and for a certain amount of time there's no limit to how much food/drink you can consume. It's basically like a buffet with a set price. But also with drinks. It works in Japan because people don't drink as much as Europeans. Let's face it, most European countries are known for consuming a copious amount of some kind of alcohol. Germans and others of the sort have beer, France, Spain, Italy and so on have wine, Northern Europe has hard liquor and Eastern countries have vodka and anything else that helps them forget their misery. UK has it all and more, Iceland probably has some horrible death-juice made of lava and dragon-sweat (I have not seen or heard about it but I'm sure they have something like that) and the Dutch have weed so they don't need to drink. But I'm getting sidetracked here. The point is: all-you-can-drink wouldn't work in Europe because people would drink the place out of business in no time.

Anyway, the reason I started talking about it is that Japan also loves its beer gardens. Most of them are only open in Summer – they're outdoors so the weather has to be good for the whole thing to work. The last time I was in Japan I didn't go to a beer garden. I'm not that fond of beer and they're pretty expensive. This time, however, we (meaning me and two of my friends) decided to go because... Well, because why not. We were on vacation, only there for a little over a week and it was something that was only available then and there. The beer garden we chose was on the rooftop of one of the highrise buildings in the city center. It seemed expensive at first but considering we had unlimited food and drinks from the time it opened (about 16.30) until closing time (22.00), 4000 yen (or about... eh, let's say 30-something euros) was a bargain. The only brand of beer they served was Kirin (original, lager and dark) but that worked out great for me because I happen to love Kirin. Sure, for 500 yen extra I could've had a selection of foreign beers but I can get Belgian and German beer in Estonia too so there really was no point.

That being said, I'm not much of a beer lover. In fact, the only time I drink beer is when I'm either in Japan or Hawaii. For some reason I tend to avoid it in Estonia. Not that I hate Estonian beer – I just prefer to drink wine here. But in Japan wine is either watered down or tastes like moldy grapes and in Hawaii it's just too damn hot for wine. Beer is so much more refreshing. So yeah, I'm not that into beer... Still, I wanted to experience a Japanese beer garden and I don't regret doing so. The food was great! Oh yeah, and so was the beer. So, when we first came in they handed each of us a mug and showed us to our table. We were in the open air, close to the edge of the roof and it was really the perfect spot. It was quiet enough and we had a good view. The edges of the roof were lined with decorative plants and there was even a tiny shrine in the corner. Because why not. Our mugs would be ours to keep for the rest of the night: if we wanted anything to drink, we just had to take them to the bar where a server would fill it with our drink of choice. We could also get cocktails and other drinks but I decided not to mix – that never ends up well.

Remember how I said I wasn't a beer lover? Well, I realized why that is. After downing my third mug I already felt like a balloon, ready to burst. I'd forgotten how full beer makes you. I can drink a bottle of wine no problem but beer... that's tricky, especially when I'm also eating something. Sure, I could have stopped eating and left more room for beer... Oh, who am I kidding! I could never stop eating (it's becoming a real problem, tbh)! So after my third mug I started to slow down, hoping that if I give my body time to adjust (and digest) I can fit some more beer in there. Didn't really work – I was getting more and more full with every sip and at some point I had the sneaking suspicion that another sip would literally make me explode into horrible bloody chunks.

Thank god for Mary, who decided to give me a helping hand by finishing my beer... and getting me (and herself) another... and another one after that... I'm pretty sure she consumed almost a keg's worth of beer that night... and she was still going strong when they called last order. I was getting a bit worried... but then again, it was only beer. You can't get that drunk from beer, right? Sure, she seemed a bit jolly but not wasted. Tipsy, not drunk. In the meantime we managed to make friends with a group of three elderly Japanese men in the next table. And by 'we' I mean Tytti because she is the only one of us completely fluent in Japanese and managed to have a long conversation with them. Apparently they were childhood friends who met up every once in a while like this and had been doing it for decades, even though they had moved far away from each other, had families and separate lives... That was the sweetest story I'd heard in a while and we decided to keep that as a friendship goal.

We stayed until closing time and headed to the subway to get back to our hotel. The subway ride was uneventful if you ignore the fact that the car smelled like booze. All the salarymen who had been partying with their bosses were heading home as well. We got to our stop with ease and headed out of the station when Mary (pretty sure it was her idea) decided that she wanted a pizzaman (pictured on the right) – basically a pizza bun filled with cheese, tomato sauce, meat and god-knows-what. It seemed like a pretty good idea so we headed to the nearest convenience store... which didn't have them. Okay, on to the next one then.... and the next one... and the next one... As we were walking along I started to notice that Mary was... a bit more jovial than she usually was. I was beginning to feel that she had truly gotten drunk off of beer. My suspicions were confirmed when we stepped out of another convenience store and she went: 'Where are we?' even though we had not strayed far from the main road. Huh... apparently beer can get you drunk. Who would've thought.

Did we find our pizzamans? Nope, not at all. They had been replaced with donuts, which is terribly disappointing. But I did manage to snap some cool pictures of Nagoya at night... and we made it back to our hotel in one piece. How bad was the next morning? For me, not that bad. I was still full and felt all bloated and disgusting but other than that I was fine. Mary... did not fare so well... but she was a trooper and after a few painkillers and some fresh air she was... not good but surviving. Did I mention it was the day she was supposed to leave Japan? Oh yeah, she had to endure an hour long train ride and then suffer on the plane. I'm still amazed that she managed to survive that. I hate flying on the best of days, but with a massive headache... Kudos to her. What I learned from this whole ordeal is that beer gardens are amazing (even though they're a bit pricy) and I can't get drunk from beer because there's just not enough room in my stomach. And that there is such a thing as 'too much beer'. The more you know...

...everything looked the same but felt different

Some time ago I went to Japan. And then I went there again. And again... This little story is about the last time I went there but before I get to that, let's go back in time a bit. In September 2013 I moved to Japan to study abroad for a year. It was one of the best (if not the best) years of my life and if I could do it again I would. In a heartbeat. But what's gone is gone and the best I can do now is visit my old friends whenever I'm back in Japan. Which is exactly what I did. 

It was in mid-May that I packed my bags and headed to Nagoya. A few of my friends from my study abroad year were back in Japan and it was the perfect time to reunite with them. I had just finished my internship and had two weeks off before I had to submit my thesis. Mary (my Hawaiian friend, for those who don't know) had also booked tickets (and a hotel for us) so everything was set: we were going to have a big reunion. People back home kept asking me what I was going to do in Japan, what were my plans. Plans? To hang out with my best friends of course! Nothing else. I wasn't going sightseeing - I'd already seen everything worth seeing in Nagoya. I was just revisiting my past, nothing more, nothing less. 

Stepping off the plane was... weird... It didn't feel like I'd entered a foreign country. Sure, everyone around me was Asian, everybody was staring and all the signs were in Japanese but... It felt like I was going home... If home is where the heart is, I guess I left a part of mine in Nagoya. I knew I was a foreigner, I knew I was thousands of miles away from my real home but... I didn't feel out of place. I felt like I'd just taken a long bus ride to my former hometown. 

Another strange thing I noticed soon enough was that not much had changed. It had been two years and I'm sure there had been changes but... my old school was still in the same place, all the old shops I used to go to were still there and the same people were still working there. It was like Nagoya had gotten stuck in time. Had I traveled back in time when I was on that plane? All the old hangout spots looked the same and now and again I felt like I was back in the year 2014, going to school there, living in a small apartment in the same building with all the other exchange students. I didn't know how to feel about it. On one hand it was amazing how much at home I felt but on the other hand... I kept getting stuck in the past and waking up in the present only to realize that most of my friends were gone and I was a different person now.
The things that hadn't changed were numerous and the things that had changed were a few... but they were much more noticeable and much more important. It was a bittersweet feeling walking past all the places I used to visit and love. Going back to the school I almost thought all of my friends would be sitting in the international center, just hanging out like we used to do. But the people sitting around the large white tables were strangers to me and I couldn't even recognize most of the people working there. I couldn't get into my old apartment building because you need a key to get into the lobby and even if I could, I wouldn't have been able to enter my apartment. Because it wasn't mine anymore. It was someone else's home now.

Still, me and my friends decided to sneak into our old apartment building and hang out on the roof like we used to. Just for old time's sake. It was one of our greatest hangout spots for when we wanted to talk, snack and have a few drinks without paying a crazy expensive seating charge or having to put up with a bunch of drunk salary-men in the next table. The first time we made it up there thanks to a random exchange student with great timing. She didn't question our intentions, didn't even ask for our names, just let us in and wished us a good time. We got up there, talked about the past and relived a few of our best memories there. Even though it got a bit chilly and windy in the end, we didn't mind. It was great being up there again. Like being home.
Going to the roof was so natural for us that we did it several times, not caring that we were breaking into a private building that we had no right to be at. One time we managed to get into the lobby thanks to someone leaving the building at the same time. The door to the stairwell was still closed though so one of us had to climb through a window and open the door from the inside. Sounds extreme but... well, it pretty much was. But we really wanted to get up there. To be honest, the time I spent on that roof was the time I felt most at ease. Even though it wasn't my home anymore, it sure felt like it and for a few moments I could pretend...
I'm probably making it sound like I consider Japan my home, even more so than Estonia, but that's not really the case. I wasn't really missing Japan - I was missing the people, the atmosphere, that one moment in time: that was my home and that's why it was so good to get back to the apartment. Because that's where most of my best memories were made. I think we broke in at least three times but hey, we didn't actually break anything or mess things up so it was all harmless fun. And it was exactly what I needed from this vacation: just to take a little glimpse into the past. So if anyone wants to know what I saw in Japan I can tell them I saw the past and the present, overlapping in a bittersweet way. Aaaaaand that will probably land me on their list of 'pretentious people who should be avoided'.