Leaving Himeji, my next destination was Tottori (鳥取). Frankly, there’s nothing much to see or do in Tottori, a friend once told me. You only go to Tottori to see the sand dunes, and that’s about it.
However, the name “Tottori” kept appearing on the news two winters ago, when it registered the heaviest snowfall in all of Japan that year in more than 50 years – so much so that the accumulated snow threatened to swallow houses and vehicles. My irrational mind was made up that day – I had to visit Tottori one day!
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It’s two days before I finally say goodbye to this apartment where I’ve spent the larger part of my two years in 
As I count down to the last week in this city, I found myself re-visiting some of the places that I had initially explored when I first arrived two years ago. First up is 
During my first visit to the park two years ago, I got lost. It was a cool late autumn evening, and I decided to explore the woods that connect to the park. But as I ventured deeper and deeper, I felt something amiss. I was the only one in the midst of the greenery. However, I kept on walking further and further into the foliage, despite the waning sunlight. What really set alarm bells ringing and prompted me to turn back was when I came across a wooden sign with the words that warn of bear sighting in this part of the woods. Terrified, I promptly retraced my steps as quickly as I could, and only breathed a sigh of relief when I heard sounds of passing traffic.
This time, however, I opted for a less adventurous approach. Having bought a bento box of stir-fried Chinese noodles and a can of beer from 7-Eleven, I headed to the 
Sufficiently fuelled up, I ambled towards the observation tower, which offers a 360 degree panorama of the city. On a clear day, you could probably see as far as Mount Tarumae and the peaks around 
Many thoughts clouded my mind as I surveyed the scenery before me, the grid-like city layout, the ugly chimneys and billowing white smoke, the oil tankers dotting the port of 
And at that time, JET seemed like the most attractive option. I had always wanted to explore living and working in Japan – and the inspiration behind this, would you believe, was after watching a Japanese TV drama called 
I figured spending a couple of years in Japan could allow me to get away from the mundaneness of working life, from Singapore for a while. I must admit, a part of me had secretly wished I was posted to some rural city / town by the sea. Maybe then, I could live out the laid-back life as portrayed in that drama I watched more than 20 years ago. But a part of me was also worried about being posted to the countryside. I am such a conflicted individual. However, as it would turn out, I got neither of those. I was posted to 
The sprawling grounds of 
Winter used to be my favourite season when I was working as a professional teacher in Singapore. This is because in Singapore, we have no winter. More importantly, as a teacher in a public school, winter marks the start of the “travel season” as the academic calendar draws to a close by mid-November. The “luckier” ones would have already jetted off by the last week of November. 
I’m sitting here at my kotatsu typing away instead of being at school. The reason, Typhoon No. 21. Just when you thought typhoon season is over, here comes a humongous one to take the stuffing out of you. And of course, bearing in mind that this is Japan – typhoons love this long strip of archipelago for some reason. 
Summer hit Hokkaido like a home run out of nowhere this week, with daily temperatures soaring above the thirties. The week before, Kyushu had been battered by Typhoon No.3, leaving swathes of land in Fukuoka and Oita under water. Here in Hokkaido, however, temperatures are slowly creeping above 25 degrees during the day. When dusk falls, it drops severely to the mid-10s (15 or 16 degrees). And then, it took a sudden spike above the 30s.
Muroran is dead, and pretty ugly.
Despite knowing what to expect (well, kind of), I was still disappointed by how dead the city felt. I was the only customer in a tonkatsu restaurant at a little past noon on a Sunday afternoon. Outside, I could count with my hands how many people I had actually met on the way to this restaurant from the station. Never mind, I told myself. After all, the reason I came to Muroran was to seek out its natural wonders. While Muroran is not famed for onsens, shrines or man-made tourist attractions, it boasts some of Hokkaido’s best scenic views (the locals call it the 8 Sights of Muroran or 室蘭八景). And I’ve come here in search of arguably its most famous sight, the Earth Cape (地球岬).
The Earth Cape is a 2.7 km uphill walk from Bokoi Station. Apparently, there are no buses to the Cape, so you either walk or drive there. Unfortunately for me, my legs would have to be my wheels. Perhaps it’s the weather, or the fatigue from the upward trudge, but to be honest, the view of the Pacific, with the Earth Cape’s iconic ghostly white lighthouse only lasted mere seconds.
If you ask me, I felt the descent proved to be far more interesting than the ascent. Instead of returning to Bokoi Station, I took a left instead, in the direction of Muroran Station. Along the way, I came across a stunning view of a cove and a cemetery deep in the woods. Truth be told, I was walking at twice the pace because daylight was fading fast, and I was desperate to make it to the city centre before it got dark! Thankfully, I just about made it when the last rays laced the evening sky.
After a quick dinner, I headed for my next destination – the Hakucho Bridge. In a sense, I had to say I had asked for it. I had already spent a good part of the afternoon walking, and despite my aching legs screaming for me to call it a day, I decided to check out the Hakucho Bridge. Once again, Google Maps informed me that there seemed to be no bus connectivity, so I would have to make the 40-minute walk on foot. So I did, past empty streets, and empty roads. And this was just a little past 7 p.m. but it looked as if the city might already have gone to bed. For what seemed to me like eternity, I kept urging myself on, tucking my hands deep into my sweater in search of some warmth in the chilly air. As the bridge loomed larger into view, I realised that the start / end was a massive loop which meant that I would have to make a huge detour just to trace the entry. Just a little more, I egged myself. And then there it was, a sign that said “No entry to pedestrians, bicycles and motor-cyclists”.
I spent the next 15 minutes snapping away, zooming in and out, even attempting a ‘live’ broadcast on Facebook. And then, the thought of having to trudge back to the train station suddenly hit me. It’s well past eight now, and I’m pretty sure any chance of a last bus was slim, since it was a Sunday. Along the return journey, I stopped at any bus stop I happened to come across and used my handphone as a torch to check the bus schedule. I had no luck for about two to three stops before I found one that told me that there might be a chance that I might still be able to catch the last bus. I decided I would take the chance.
lonesojourns 