The Meaning of Travelling | Mark Lee

Chapter 2: Meeting

You were sitting on the Shinkansen, feeling a surge of agreement with a sense of speed, as if urging you to run. The train car was quiet, with everyone absorbed in their own activities, making no sound. You remembered reading in a guidebook that in Japan, even taking phone calls on public transport is considered rude. This quiet wasn't tense or uncomfortable but a peaceful silence, a kind of tranquility that let you escape the noise and reconnect with your inner self.

You sat in your seat, holding a Kindle, reading The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, which had piqued your interest yesterday. When your eyes grew tired, you turned to look out the window. The landscape outside, hilly and green, reminded you of the ups and downs of life. After all, trees and grass are everywhere—what changes is your mindset and the meaning you assign to them.

Tokyo and Kyoto aren't far apart, just a couple of hours by train. You read slowly, and about a third of the book remained unread when you arrived. Reluctantly, you disembarked, moving sluggishly with the crowd, feeling a bit unwilling. In travel, time is never lacking, and you enjoyed letting your mind float on calm waters, letting it drift for a while.

After arriving at the hastily booked guesthouse and settling in, you finally managed to organize your luggage. The guesthouse had an open, traditional Japanese garden, with a wooden house and stone paths arranged in water-ripple patterns typical of Japanese aesthetics, showing the nation's characteristic restraint. You stood in the garden, wearing your slippers, debating whether to spend the afternoon finishing The Temple of the Golden Pavilion on an uncomfortable tatami or exploring the surrounding area.

While you were lost in thought, a tall man appeared, dressed in a blue kimono with subtle patterns inspired by Ukiyo-e, though you couldn't clearly see his face. Your eyesight wasn't great, and despite wearing glasses, you'd been stubbornly putting off getting a new prescription for quite some time. You remembered the guesthouse's description mentioned two separate rooms with little interaction, so the man's presence didn't surprise you.

As he approached, he cautiously said, "Hi," as if trying to guess your nationality. The unfamiliar voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked closely—this was Mark, the blogger you'd just followed on Instagram. "Oh, hi," you replied, almost letting out a surprised "oh," then quickly caught yourself.

He was not unfamiliar to you, and he seemed intrigued by the fact that someone was speaking his native language. He rambled on, "Oh, so we're from the same country. It's fate that we booked the same guesthouse. I'm your neighbour, just in the next room. My name is Mark. Feel free to come find me for a drink sometime." You felt a bit overwhelmed by his rapid-fire introduction and only caught the last part—his name was Mark.

As someone who had spent many years as a corporate employee, you weren't exactly a master at navigating social situations, but you had picked up some etiquette along the way. You smiled and replied, "Hello! I'm [Your Name]. It's my first time in Kyoto, and I'm not really sure what to do here. I'm quite a tourist novice, so if I accidentally offend you, I apologize."

"Ah, [Your Name]," Mark said, giving your shoulder a friendly pat, signaling for both of you to sit on the stone steps and chat. "I was here in Kyoto last year."

You thought, of course, that's why you're sitting here instead of lying on the hotel bed.

Mark seemed to notice that he had shared too much of his personal thoughts with a stranger and awkwardly shifted the topic. "So what about you? Why are you in Kyoto? Just sightseeing and picking up some things for family?" You rolled your eyes internally—because of you. But you couldn't say that to a stranger, so you cleared your throat and dodged, "I'm traveling alone. I was in Tokyo, but it wasn't that interesting, so I decided to come see Kyoto." Perfect answer. You felt satisfied with your response.

"Oh," Mark said, pausing for a moment as the atmosphere grew a bit awkward. "I plan to go to Kinkaku-ji tomorrow. Do you... want to join?"

"Hmm..." you pretended to contemplate your itinerary. "Sure, it'll be nice to have someone to look out for each other."

The sun gradually faded from view, and the courtyard, surrounded by bamboo and trees, became a bit chilly. You both noticed the time and decided to head to a nearby convenience store for some snacks. Luckily, there was a 7-11 not far from the guesthouse. You were feeling sweet and, besides picking out onigiri and beer, you grabbed several boxes of chocolate. At checkout, Mark couldn't help but laugh at your choices, calling them childlike. You ignored him and silently cursed Mark for being an old man who only likes drinking.

With bags in hand, you walked side by side on the path back to the hostel. The moonlight stretched your shadows long and slanted, as if you were intimately leaning against each other. It was quiet around you, with only the sound of the wind rustling the leaves and an occasional birdcall.

Once back at the guesthouse, you resumed sitting on the stone steps, chatting casually as you enjoyed your meal and filled your stomach. Mark, ever the gentleman, offered to take care of the leftover trash while you went back to your room to rest. You felt reluctant to refuse, so you agreed on a time to meet for tomorrow's outing before returning to your room.

The guesthouse's doors and windows didn't have the best soundproofing. Lying on the tatami mat, you swiped your fingers across your phone screen, but your ears were always tuned to the sounds outside. You heard Mark's footsteps approach and then retreat, followed by the creak of the wooden door, returning the world to silence.

Ding! A notification sound from your phone alerted you that the person you just followed on Instagram, Mark, had uploaded a photo of a crescent moon with a caption: "I have a feeling that the moonlight will be even more beautiful than tonight over the next few days."

On the other side of the room, you read the message, silently closed your phone, and fell into a deep sleep, dreaming sweetly through the night.