The last few blog posts have been about
very specific details of my trip abroad and about the culture
surrounding them. Toilets and vending machines in Japan are awesome.
I was there in time for the cherry blossoms, and they were amazing. I
joined a nihon buyo club and
had a great time learning a traditional dance. But some experiences
of traveling cannot be condensed into single events or specific
details. Some experiences are built up over many events, constructed
from feelings and impressions. One such experience for me while I was
in Japan was the experience of exploration.
In a
new country, exploration occurs pretty much constantly. You are
exploring the sidewalks you walk on, the people you encounter, the
culture around you. Sometimes, you even go out and intentionally
explore, taking the unusual path and getting lost on purpose, for the
sake a wholly individualized experience. For me, exploring like this
was so much fun. I
could describe it with prettier words; it was exhilarating,
inspirational, exciting. But really, the best phrase for it is just
pure, unadulterated fun.
During
the early part of my visit, I wandered away from the classrooms and
dormitory on a rare occasion when it wasn't raining. It wasn't sunny,
but the lack of rain was good enough for me. Taking along my camera,
I drifted towards some unspecific direction, with really no purpose
in mind except to look at whatever there was to see. Although I was
familiar with the buildings in the center of campus, I had no idea
what was behind them or what the mysterious section of woods off to
the side contained. So I decided to just walk around. I kept my
camera on to record what I saw and my random musings, for posterity's
sake, or something like that.
What I
discovered was a street lined with cherry trees; a cute, little
convenience store a short block away; a couple picturesque farm
plots; a bike rental company; and a large, beautiful garden behind
the campus. This garden contained a myriad of unfamiliar plants,
trees, and flowers. I was fascinated by the lack of grass, which
usually covers American garden-parks. Instead, there was soft,
fragrant moss everywhere—even on the pathways. And then, I found a
bridge.
(The magnificent bridge, surrounded by leafless trees of early spring.)
It's
almost embarrassing how excited I was to find this bridge. It felt
like I was walking through the wardrobe into Narnia or using the rope
to cross the creek into Terabithia. I had no idea where it would take
me, but it looked so mysterious. The thrill grew as I chanced upon
sets of stairs leading in two directions. The first path led me to a
house and another farm; turning back, the second one led into the
heart of the woods near the campus. I discovered a series of raised
wooden pathways over creeks that spindled out like capillaries. I
noticed how remarkably different the pine trees were compared to my
home in Colorado; tall and bare until close to the top where they
flourished out in dark green, soft needles. I found a kind of bright
green tree with delicate leaves that seemed to float in the air on
barely noticeable, thin branches. A couple branches of some tree had
wound around each other, forming a rope-like structure that looked
man-made. Fiddle ferns grew on the ground, curled up so they appeared
almost alien. Although it was not some raw, untouched forest, it felt
entirely undiscovered and revolutionary to me. I was disappointed
when I came out the other side, finding myself once again near the
campus buildings.
(The stairs that went up.)
(The stairs that went down.)
Luckily,
these exploration experiences peppered my entire stay in Japan. I
followed an unknown path beyond a lighthouse during a school
excursion to find myself standing a hundred feet over a beautiful,
rocky coastline. Hawks and large sea-birds dove and surfed the winds
around me. There, a nice couple offered to take my picture. Back at
campus, I took an afternoon to explore to the books in the library,
discovering illustrated books on Japanese folklore, an interesting
book on the history of chemistry, and texts on traditional dances of
obscure cultures. Thoroughly exploring shops at the mall exposed me
to the nearly infinite variety of “cute” merchandise in Japan,
delicious watermelon puree drink and, conversely, gross placenta
drink, as well as super expensive taco ingredients (which were too
pricey even for my desperate taco cravings).
(The beautiful, tempting path beyond the lighthouse. How could you not explore it?)
The
results of my explorations were always interesting and rewarding, but
the real pleasure came from the exploration itself. Simply giving
myself over to curiosity and welcoming any result filled me with pure
happiness and a cleansing sensation. My existence in those moments
was not complicated. I had no preferences, but I was interested in
everything. I had no goals, but I felt accomplished whenever I made a
found something new. I think this basic level of curiosity rivaled
that of an infant. The world was new and amazing to me, and even the
smallest detail contained endless entertainment. I think it is the
purest state of being; to explore the world, to observe the world, to
delight in the world.
The
experience was so impressive, that I think I have been chasing after
it since I've returned, like searching for the sensation of a first
high. Curiosity and exploration gets lost in the bustle of the every
day. Responsibilities or even just weariness keep us from opening
ourselves up to experiences that have no purpose; they stop us from
indulging or perhaps even noticing our natural curiosity. In light of
my experiences abroad, I am trying to change this in my life. It's
not easy. I have classes and homework and regular work and chores
just like everyone else. Not to mention, my boyfriend is currently
less mobile due to a hip injury, and my desire to include him in my
adventures often prevents me from having them at all. But I forget
that curiosity doesn't always mean going out and finding some unknown
path in the woods. It can mean turning on my computer and reading
about some new fact, then following that interest and learning more.
For example, I just finished reading an National Geographic article
about the leading theory on how the statues of Easter Island were
transported from miles away. I realized I really don't know anything
about Easter Island. Instead of just letting my interest end with the
article, later I'm going to do some reading about the island and
learn more about the culture and its history. Following a curiosity,
no matter whether its in concrete or digital form, is always
stimulating; and for me, often has the added bonus of inspiring
stories I can write.
There
may be no point to indulging in curiosity. It doesn't always provide
any rewards except perhaps as a conversation piece. It doesn't make
money; it doesn't get anything done.
However, I really believe curiosity is the most defining and basic
characteristic of the human species. Humans love to learn, which is
something we often forget when looking at education and homework, but
it's true. We want to know things just for the sake of knowing them;
because they're interesting, because they're fun. Perhaps that is a
goal and a reward enough in itself. So go out and explore, even if
it's just from your couch.
(The sakura lined street near campus.)
(The mossy pathways and bright green trees of the garden-park.)
(The awesome twisted wood in the forest.)
(Floating leaves.)
(A bad, blurry pic of the fiddle ferns that look like they're from Star Trek.)
Below are some of the videos I took while exploring. I swear I'm not as ditzy as I think I sound. I apologize for the awful quality. :) Also my camera has a time limit on videos, so some of them start/cut abruptly. Again, sorry.
The tree lined path.
Exploring the garden, interrupted by a full memory.
Continuation of the exploration of the garden.
Discovering the bridge.
Wandering up the stairs.
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