Morning Rituals and Quiet Reckonings

I got up early, and as is my normal morning routine, made our morning ritual coffee to get the day moving along. Today was going to be our last day at the hotel, and I wanted to take a moment to reflect in the darkness before the sun came up and savor it before going to breakfast, checking out, and heading off to set up the beginnings of our rich life. Hotels are great places of respite. Sometimes they’re functional, sometimes luxurious, but always temporary. It had been a whirlwind of adventure up to this point, and the truth was that whatever the day threw at us, this part of the morning always belonged just to me, and I guarded it jealously.

I watched Joy sleeping. I smiled. Somehow, we managed to dodge a bullet yesterday. If things had gone differently, I don’t know how we would have gone forward. I suppose we would have figured it out — we always do — but I think it would have created a schism between us that might have altered the course of our relationship. She would have gone back to the US, never to return. I would have stayed in Japan, and eventually we would have had to reconcile our path, and I don’t know if the outcome would have been positive for us continuing our journey together. Fortunately, we didn’t have to test that probability. She recognized the moment and that this retreat wasn’t like her or who she is and pushed through. I am proud of her for that. As for me, well… Asia is where I feel most at home, with Japan as my soul’s living room.

I’ve always had a fascination with Asia and all things Asian. From anime and video games to cars and robots; from the Silk Road to modern cargo carriers; from catastrophic societal collapse to how they rose from the ashes more powerful than before — it’s all happened here. China has over 6,000 years of history under its belt. Japan, as we understand it, celebrates almost 3,000 years of history. Thailand has never been conquered or colonized in its history — a unique feat considering what happened to its neighbors (every generation should kick Henry Kissinger square in his proverbial balls for what he did there).

So, when I finally came to terms with the fact that I wasn’t having children — something I struggle with — it was time to get about the next thing on my spiritual to‑do list: start living in the world, with Asia at the top of the list. Since that first trip across the Pacific, I’ve not been the same person, and I don’t think I could ever go back to being who I was before.

Mindfulness, Quiet, and the Introvert’s Dream

As for Japan, it’s an introvert’s dream. Another core principle of Japanese culture is mindfulness. People are respectful of their surroundings and considerate of other people’s space and belongings. As a result, things are quiet here. Sure, there are festivals and celebrations and loud moments in life, just like everywhere else, but get on any train and you’ll understand why mindfulness matters. Conversations are muted, phones are silent, and people are generally focused on minding their own business. Go to any store, shopping center, or mall, and people are subdued. Because of this mindfulness, people get along well, and public spaces remain clean, open, and inviting to all.

As an introvert myself, I’ve greatly enjoyed this aspect of Japanese culture.

Americans, on the whole, are not into being quiet or mindful on almost any level of existence. We are loud, we virtue signal to find our brand — and by extension, our people — and we’re dirty. We push boundaries to find the hard edges, then we push past them. Sometimes that last part isn’t bad — it’s how we find new paths, ideas, and technologies. But in true American fashion, it also means we are less mindful of our neighbors, and we don’t care about the wellness of those around us unless something impacts us directly. As a result, we are a nation of extremes, and we behave accordingly. All this to say: while I still identify as American (we have our virtues, too) and am generally proud of my country despite its flaws, the mindfulness that exists here in Japan has been the balm that soothes a battered soul like mine.

Joy started stirring. So, as is our morning ritual, I made her coffee. She got up and walked to the window. I handed her the cup, and we both sat in silence, enjoying the last sunrise from our hotel room together — or so we thought. The moment felt lighter. We talked about the last few days and enjoyed the final moments of sunrise before heading down to breakfast.

Breakfast, Bad News, and Budget Battles

Over breakfast, Joy poked at the sausages on her tray like they were responsible for all her life choices, and I was enjoying the Zen of a well‑made cup of coffee — albeit a smaller one than what my American soul prefers at this hour. Inevitably, we started hashing out what the day ahead looked like. Despite feeling better about the road ahead, we still had logistical things to discuss that we couldn’t ignore, including how we were going to get our stuff up to the house. As we were discussing our options, Joy’s phone vibrated, sending her an alert. She picked it up and frowned.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Our Amazon order is delayed,” she said.

“Does that mean…”

“Yes, our air mattresses will not be delivered today.”

I picked up a piece of smoked salmon and chewed it slowly, savoring the flavor before speaking.

“Any idea when it’s supposed to come?” I asked.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

We sat in silence for a moment.

“Hmmmm…” I mumbled. “Before we go back to our room, let’s check with the front desk and see if we can extend our stay one more night.”

“Good call.”

“Thank you, I try.”

We finished breakfast and stopped by the front desk to make our query. They informed us that the room was available for the next two nights, but after that, we would have to check out; the room was otherwise occupied. I smiled at the clerk and asked her to give us a moment. She bowed politely and stepped away, and Joy and I moved aside.

I opened negotiations.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“Clearly, we have to get the room,” said Joy.

I sighed. “I know that. That’s why I suggested it at breakfast. I mean, how many nights do we stay? One night, or two? I say one.”

“No, two nights. We know our beds are coming in two days, but Amazon didn’t tell us when our air mattresses will be delivered, and I, for one, like the idea of a bed, hot showers, and some guaranteed comforts,” said Joy.

Up to this point, the thing I haven’t provided any commentary on is that Joy hasn’t enjoyed the beds in our hotel room. They are, after all, monk mattresses, and she’s just as much a princess with her sleep as I am, albeit in different ways.

“You don’t even like the beds here; maybe sleeping on the tatami mats will be more comfortable, and all we need are some blankets and something to rest our heads on. Besides, we have hot water up at the house. We can take hot showers there.”

Joy rolled her eyes.

“What?”

“Two nights.”

I sighed. “One night buys us time to find alternatives to the air‑mattress dilemma without blowing out our budget, which two unaccounted‑for nights at the hotel definitely will,” I countered.

Joy gave me the look.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, two nights.”

The thing about relationships that doesn’t get as much attention as it should is that it’s important to know how to properly fight with your partner. Sometimes you stake your claim, choose your battles, and die on that hill. Other times, you book the hotel room for two more nights despite knowing this will put your trip over budget.

With that settled, we went back up to the counter and extended our stay for another two nights.

Resetting the Room, Resetting Ourselves

We headed back to the room and looked around. Joy sighed. “You know, we’ve been so busy here lately dealing with everything and our emotional baggage that we haven’t taken the time to get out and see our town. What do you say we stop and look around today? You know, be tourists.”

“I like that idea.” I looked around the room and saw all our stuff everywhere — the trash can overflowing, the room looking like it had been occupied by two unsupervised children given an unlimited budget for road trash at a high‑end convenience store. “Let’s have the cleaning staff come in and give the room a refresh. Besides, we need more coffee for the morning.”

“Okay.”

The other thing about relationships that can make them or break them — besides knowing the subtle art of arguing — is knowing where your strengths lie. In this moment, mine resided in the realm of packing and cleaning, and hers in the realm of planning out our day. Without saying a word, we both dove into our tasks.

A Walk Into Otaru

Twenty minutes later, we were out the door and on our way to whatever Joy had mapped out for us. We were heading for Otaru’s Canal district for some tea, cakes, and a little bit of light shopping. Although not too much, because we still had to pack our stuff and take it up to the house. In a special plot twist, we decided to walk. Joy’s knee was feeling better today — at least well enough that she felt comfortable walking on it.

Much like yesterday, it was a lovely day outside. The sun was warm, the air was cool, and I enjoyed seeing the daily life unfolding across town. After a short while, we arrived at our destination and stopped to look around the square. It wouldn’t have been a miss in Victoria, B.C., in Canada. In fact, it had an almost European feel to it with the stone and brick buildings.

The Steam Clock Surprise

As we took in the sights, I heard the unmistakable bellows of Westminster Chimes being belted out on what sounded like a steam calliope. I hadn’t heard that since we were last in Vancouver… could that be… a steam clock?

Because I am a nerd, I rushed toward the sound, leaving Joy to find her way to wherever I was, hopefully (remember, she’s the construction‑site baby). And sure enough, I found the source — a steam clock! How extraordinary. It looked identical to the one in Vancouver: same Victorian whimsy, same brass and glass, same little plume of steam puffing out the top, impressing all the passersby. The Vancouver clock draws crowds all day long, people lining up to take photos of something that is, at its core, a glorified kettle with a sense of rhythm. And here I was, halfway across the world, staring at its twin!

I looked up at the clock and watched it go through its motions, a small stream of steam shooting out of its top. In an odd moment of realization — the sort only the universe can deliver — I realized that of all the people gathered around taking photos, I was probably the only one who had ever seen its sister in Vancouver. How lucky am I?

Lost Joy, Found Hello Kitty

I took a few photos and smiled at that revelation, then looked around and discovered that Joy was nowhere to be found. So, I started scanning the area, and immediately my American brain assumed she must have died, been kidnapped by strangers in an unmarked white conversion van, or something worse. Then I remembered: we’re not in America. The likeliest answer was that she wasn’t as interested in the steam clock as I was, got distracted, and wandered in a different direction. If only there were a device I could use to reach out and ask her where she went…

I pulled out my phone — and then I saw it.

The giant stone Hello Kitty stood proudly in front of the Hello Kitty store on the adjacent street corner. I put my phone away and walked across the street. Deep down in my bones, I knew that’s exactly where I would find her. Sure enough, I walked in the door, and there she was, trying on a Hello Kitty hat while balancing an ice cream cone in her free hand.

Relieved, I smiled. She asked about the clock, I said it was great, and then we wandered around the store together. After a few minutes, we were outside enjoying some ice cream, marveling at the wonders of the moment, and taking in the sights and sounds of this end of the canal. The tourists were just starting to spill into the streets, shops were opening their doors, and rickshaw drivers were beginning to gather at the busier corners.

Cake, Tea, and a Moment of Peace

After our ice cream detour and the brief panic of losing Joy to the gravitational pull of Hello Kitty, we crossed the street to a little shop famous for its cakes. You could smell it before you even saw it — that warm, buttery sweetness that knows exactly how much sugar you need right now. We went upstairs and found a small table by the window that wobbled just enough to remind you that perfection is overrated. We ordered our cakes, but they were almost too pretty to eat. Almost.

The first bite was everything I needed it to be: soft, light, and sweet without being overly sweet. Japanese cakes have this way of being indulgent and restrained at the same time, like they’re whispering, you deserve this, quietly. Joy took a bite of hers, closed her eyes, and let out a small, involuntary sound of happiness. It was the most relaxed I’d seen her since we landed.

Outside, the canal district continued waking up. Tourists drifted past the windows, rickshaw drivers called out to potential customers, and the soft clatter of shop doors opening added a gentle rhythm to the morning. For the first time in days, I felt a sense that Otaru really was our home away from home and that we were glimpsing a snapshot of our future here.

Closing Reflections: The Sweetness of Small Moments

As we finished our cakes and lingered over the last sips of tea, I realized how much I had needed this moment — not the cake, though that certainly didn’t hurt, but the pause. The reminder that life isn’t just the big decisions or the logistical chaos of moving across the world. It’s also this: a quiet table in a small shop, a slice of cake, and the feeling that all is well in the universe once again.

The last few days had stretched us, tested us, and forced us to confront parts of ourselves we don’t always want to look at. But here we were, in a little corner of Otaru, breathing easier, laughing again, and thriving. We still had a mountain of things to do — deliveries to wait for, a house to set up, a life to build — but for the first time since arriving, it didn’t feel monumental.

Tomorrow will bring whatever it brings.

But today, we have cake.