2 March 2017
Sometimes solo travel sucks.
Yes, I said it. I feel that talking about the down sides of solo travel is a bit of a taboo subject amongst travel bloggers. We tend to focus on the positive, the breathtaking, the incredible experiences that traveling the world can elicit. But between all the fantastic adventures, there’s nights spent sleeping in airports, travel sickness, homesickness, and just some plain shitty situations. I think ignoring the sometimes dull or unfortunate realities of travel paints an unrealistic expectation for those yearning to get on the road themselves. So in honor of being candid, here’s a story of one of those just plain shitty travel experiences.
…
“Ohayo gozaimasu! I need a reserved seat bound for Kagoshima please,” I told the JR ticket clerk. “I need to be in Kagoshima by 4:00pm.”
“Yes, one moment please.”
In order for this story to be comprehensible to you, the reader who more likely than not doesn’t speak Japanese, from here on out I will refrain from typing any Japanese dialog that took place. But please note that most of the dialog that took place was, in reality, Japanese. I say this not to impress you with my implied knowledge of the language, but rather to impress upon you the added struggle that this created. Because I really don’t know Japanese; I only know just enough words and phrases to fumble my way through the country and pretend to know what I’m doing. So while the conversations depicted further on may seem coherent, know that in reality they were far from it…
The train station clerk returned with a concerned look on her face, “I’m sorry but there seem to be several delays on trains bound for Kagoshima. We can’t tell you accurately which train to take to get you there by 4:00pm. You should go to Shin-Osaka station and they can give you a more accurate answer.”
“Where is Shin-Osaka…?”
As I learned, Shin-Osaka was the next major station along the JR (Japanese Rail) route that would ultimately get me to where I wanted to go. So, with some hasty directions from the three clerks that were now trying to assist me, I raced to catch the Shinkansen bound for Shin-Osaka.
Another side note: At this point I’d been in Japan for two weeks, had taken an obscene amount of trains, subways, and buses in over four different cities, and not once had any public transit system been off schedule (ok there was one exception to this due to an earthquake). I mean trains arrived and left on the dot. As in, if you didn’t board the train within the thirty second window that the doors were open for, you were out of luck. So when I heard that there were delays on the one day when I actually had a deadline, I was caught off guard. Ok, back to the story…
I jumped out of the train the second it reached the station, and ran to the closest ticket booth I could find. After an agonizingly long wait in line, and three ticket reprints due to lost-in-translation moments, I had a reservation for a direct Shinkansen to Kagoshima. I even had enough time to grab some food for the five hour train ride ahead of me.
Everything was going smoothly, until I got to the platform to find that all the trains on that line were at least an hour behind schedule… Fuck. I was suppose to catch the 10:59 train in five minutes and the 9:59 hadn’t even arrived yet. Sure enough, at exactly 10:59 the 9:59 train arrived. I had a reserved ticket for the 10:59 train, but if they both run on the same line, shouldn’t their routes be just the same? Just to make sure my logic checked out, I ran to the nearest station employee and asked them just that. He told me that that would work, so I jumped aboard just before the doors closed.
Ok, good to go. But I couldn’t shake this feeling that I’d made a mistake. While I thought he’d understood what I was asking, I really had no way of knowing… This feeling of foreboding was intensified when I didn’t hear “Kagoshima” on the regular train-wide Japanese announcements. So I ran four cars back to where the crew was stationed and they confirmed that the train I was on would not get me to Kagoshima, and that I would need to get off at the next stop to catch a train that would. What train that was, they didn’t have time to tell me, because I had to race back to the car where my luggage was stored in order to disembark in time. FUCK.
So for the third time that day I waited in an obscenely long line to try and confirm what train I needed to be on. I’ll spare you the details on that third station, but know that I was an anxious mess and I barely made the next train in time. Yet in the end, I was finally on a train that would take me exactly where I needed to go.
Oh right, you’re probably wondering why I needed to get to this random city in the southern reaches of Japan, and why I was in such a rush. Well, I’ll tell you. I was hell bent on getting to Yakushima island, a forested oasis known for it’s old-growth cedar forests, forests that served as inspiration for Hayao Miyazaki’s legendary film Princess Mononoke. The problem was that my JR rail pass, my golden ticket to traveling to the far corners of Japan and not breaking the bank, was due to expire in a week. If I was going to make it down to Yakushima and back to the heart of Japan before my pass expired, I had to hurry. That meant catching the soonest ferry to Yakushima Island, a ferry that sailed at 6:00pm that evening. Thus, the urgency. Ok, back to the story.
So I made it to Kagoshima, again rushed to purchase some food for the next leg of my journey, and hopped aboard a local rail line that would get me as close to the ferry port as I could. After that it was a 1100yen taxi ride, and I made it to the port just in the nick of time!
“Excuse me, I need one ticket for the overnight ferry to Yakushima please.”
“Yakushima? Oh no, the ferry isn’t going there today.”
“… Is there one leaving tomorrow?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Now, this is the point in the story where I had to seriously work to hold back tears of frustration and exhaustion. I think the lady at the ticket counter sensed this, because she was only too kind when I asked her if she would call me a taxi.
Thus, I began retracing my steps so that I could make it back to the Kagoshima station before nightfall, and find somewhere to sleep for the night. The whole point of me taking the night ferry was because it would be the most cost effective way for me to get to Yakushima. Not only was it the cheapest ferry fare, it would also save me a night of spending on accommodation. However, I knew my limits. I knew that if I didn’t find somewhere warm and quiet to sleep that night I would lose it, so I booked a night at a business hotel near the station. Despite my mood, I had to smile when I got to my room and heard one of my favorite feel-good songs playing over the hotel speakers, “One Summer’s Day” by Joe Hisashi, the composer of the Spirited Away score. I think this was the Universe’s way of saying “Hey, sorry, I realize I may have taken the joke a little too far today. Still friends?”
I woke up early the next morning to try and catch a different ferry. One slightly more expensive than the night ferry, but that would get me to the island sooner. Having learned my lesson the day before, I asked the hotel clerk to call the terminal and confirm that the ferry was running that day. Good thing I did, because it wasn’t running either due to weather. Just when I had resigned myself to the fact that maybe I just wasn’t meant to make it to the island, the clerk ran over to me and told me I had a third option. The fast-boats were running that day, though they were double the cost.
I was at a loss, so I called for a second opinion:
“Dad? I need advice.” I gave him a brief rundown of the situation, and my current predicament. Should I cut my losses and just scrap Yakushima all together, or take a further financial hit in order to get the the island I’d been anxious to visit.
“Go to the island. I mean, what else are you going to do?”
“Good point.” As always.
So I jumped aboard the fast boat, and breathed a sign of relief. I was on my way, finally. That momentary bliss came to an abrupt halt when we approached the island and I realized with a sinking stomach that the ferry was bound for the wrong port. In my haste to catch the ferry, I had forgotten to ask which port on the island it was taking me to. So while I’d finally arrived on Yukushima, I was on the opposite side of the island from where I needed to be. An hour bus ride solved that issue, but it was another hour of travel and further expense that I had not planned on.
“Hey Universe, I thought the joke was over. What gives?”
“Don’t look at me, this one is all on you.”
“…Yeah, fair enough.”
Moral of the story? Sometimes, despite your best efforts, things are out of your control. Being able to roll with the punches is just another skill solo travel will teach you (whether you like it or not), but even then everyone has their limits. Look on the bright side, often it’s misadventures that make the best stories.
Do moments like these make me reconsider solo travel? Hell no. The pros far outweigh the cons. Stories like these are just another part of the journey.
