The initial excitement naturally toned down over the next few days. The grimness was augmented by cooler temperatures and me getting assigned to night shifts. Waking up to the setting sun felt weird. Commuting to work in the dark, shivering through the layover while seeing others returning home, felt bad. Pushing myself to stay awake overnight while the rest of Asia slept, felt horrible. Of course, the U.S. would be awake, which meant the consulting from US-based colleagues during work and fun chats with friends during breaks did not stop. It gave me the much-needed relief. Of course, with the conversations also came the news. The novel Coronavirus cases & deaths were on the rise in China. “Meh, doesn’t impact me!”, I thought. And one night, between all the work, the news of Kobe Briant’s death popped up. Not that I knew him personally or was his fan, but I felt like it was quite a co-incidence that this happened when I was in Kobe. More importantly, it was a human life that was cut short. “Oh my god! Just like the thousands of lives across the sea in China”, it hit me. It was sad that it took a celebrity death to awaken to the value of unknown lives.

I needed some respite that weekend. So, despite my messed-up sleep patterns, I snuck in a day trip to Hiroshima. On first look, it was just another perfectly normal and modern Japanese city. The sight of the preserved ruins was fascinatingly somber. The Peace memorial museum though, was devastatingly eye-opening. It was painful to look those tattered clothes from victims and read about the generations of hurt for the survivors. The theme of mass deaths continued to haunt my thoughts, as I returned to Kobe. And just like that, the dreaded night-time toil loop resumed. Watching the sun rise in the horizon of the bay on train ride back from the plant, followed by my 5-star hotel’s breakfast buffet were my only consolations. Back in the room, I would quickly switch from the depressing news on TV to a local Japanese channel. I did not understand a word what appeared to be a comedy gameshow, but the loudly colorful themes, filled with contrasting fonts and the small tab on the corner capturing the exaggerated reactions of the judges, was all the entertainment I needed to fall asleep.

Offsetting my sleep inevitably had its physiological effects as well. What usually followed the impeccable timing of a Japanese train was now as unreliable as Indian railways during foggy winters. However, the godforsaken midnight-go-in-a-public-restroom experience was somewhat enjoyable, thanks to the bidets. God bless the Japanese culture for inventing this ingenious device. A few random button-presses on the sci-fi movie-like interface and you achieved rare levels of cleanliness on your rear. 

Weekends would pass by in the hotel room, catching up on sleep. The view from room was a big help. The struggle continued for 3 weeks, until one sunny Friday, when I was free. It was an extended weekend between project phases. This was my opportunity to check off some items from the bucket-list. My body submitted a request for its overdue sleep, but my mind graciously declined it.   I started off by taking the cable car ride right behind my hotel which took me up to a nice little botanical garden atop Mt. Maya and caught some gorgeous views of the Kobe marina and Osaka in the distance. I then realized that Kyoto wasn’t far either and this would be a good opportunity to revisit that awesome town. I took some rest the following day and planned the trip. While google maps encouraged me, CNN played devil’s advocate. The curse of COVID had finally made its way into Hyogo Prefecture. There was one case reported in Osaka. “That’s on the way to Kyoto. The train will be in contact with Osaka’s air. Should I go?”

I decided in favor. They said avoid crowds. I could do that. It was a cloudy & gloomy Sunday afternoon, so most people should be home dealing with Monday blues. I also chose a limited express train which was rather empty. I took the front-most seat on the first car, which had an open and unhindered view of the operator’s cab and the infinite tracks ahead. Watching the train glide through the curves while the driver meticulously followed Shisa-Kanko by pointing out every signal on the way, was therapeutic. But disaster struck when we arrived at Kyoto. As soon as I stepped out, I was swept by a deluge of people. “Wasn’t Kyoto literally the opposite of Tokyo? Shouldn’t it be nice & peaceful?”  I thought as I could not decide what to do. I started picturing people judging me for roaming around in crowded areas while the world was battling what was now an epidemic. So, I took the next train back to Kobe. It was probably the right thing to do, but I was dejected. I sat down and stared out of the window like a forlorn lover. One who had fallen in love with Kyoto once and wanted to relive those memories; and maybe get another scoop of that ice cream from last year.

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