Following in sequence, Paris would be next. Bergen took a mere year. Japan took 5. I suppose that then leaves Paris at 10? For as traveled as I have been, and for adventures that I still long, it is a strange twist that leads me back to a place. Having assumed that a return to Paris was targeted for an asap trip; it seems as if I am in somewhat of a reverse order. Never quite predictable in its set-up. And clearly with no reason to complain.
Striking down in the sequence I find myself touched down in Tokyo. The circumstances are quite different. While my first adventure spawned from a pre-thesis personal journey through typhoons and the chance of earthquakes, my recent endeavor is in the role of an instructor, surrounded by 11 University of Michigan students exploring Japan’s historical and contemporary architecture through fiction, exaggeration, and skewed documentations. I kid you not; we’re lying.
The visuals, even sounds are different. Traveling alone I was quicker, stealth, and more likely to wake in the daybreak hours; experiencing the city prior to many of the inhabitants before the crowds built up around me. As a group, we start within the crowds. We dive into the noise and we are quite the scenes when all of our lens are trying to capture the same building. We both get away with more and find our tasks restricted.
Jarred 5 years back whenever I past a store or small café I visited previously, and then flung forward when I learning something new about a mere passing before; this trip through the country and time is longer in duration, stacked with new destinations, and a new role. Far from a repeat. As with each of my returns, my eyes have a different focus. I’m anxious to see.
