Japan is one big Fisher-Pykel Clothes Dryer. It’s heat sucks all the moisture out of you, it’s energy spins you in every direction, it confuses the hell out of you with it’s flashing lights and does it does so cleanly, efficiently and with no sound louder than the gentle hum of a whispering wind. But despite the weather and the language barrier, Japan entranced me in a way that not many places have done. Actually, that’s a bit of a lie, I become easily enchanted by anywhere new, but for anyone who has been to Japan, I think you’ll agree that there is nowhere in the world like it. It is a country filled with contradictions. I felt completely safe, wandering around the city of Yokohama in thongs and shorts at 3am on my first warm, summer evening in Japan, and yet, I was pretty sure my life was in danger when later in the week I tried to “borrow” some face-wash from the local mafia at a sento (public bath), not knowing that that basket of body-cleansing products was spoken for by the very large man, covered in tattoos, steaming in the sauna behind me. It’s ok though, I still have all my appendages accounted for.
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