Express bus to Kawaguchi Part II. 2019.07.01
After pacing back and forth and imagining how the scenario would play out, trying to get on the bus to Kawaguchi Station that is, the bus arrived. Not promptly which wasn’t good because it gave me some more time to think about how things could go wrong. As I mentioned in my last blog, the driver was friendly and patient as well as we tried to pierce the language barriers and come to a mutual understanding of wants and satisfying demands. I paid the bus fare and sat in the front row of the bus for the first views of the countryside. I was so pleased with myself for being positive and having a successful transaction to get me on my way to Fuji. I messaged my friends, family and the person with whom I would explore Fuji.
He responded that things were not so smooth on his end. I was worried for a moment that I’d have to explore Fuji by myself for eight hours (that’s when the next bus would be heading back to Ichigao). I started searching for some options to get my companion on his way. Ten minutes later, easily enough, he’d secured a bus ticket and was awaiting his transport. Phew.
As the bus sailed down the uncrowded highway I got lost in practising Kanji and was oblivious when the concrete jungle slowly slipped into greenery that littered the roadside without end. I looked up for a second and was spellbound by the vibrant, healthy scenery that went on as far as the eye could see. The bright sunlight lit the trees and streams. The sky was clear and blue, the contrast among clouds, sky and trees so stark it appeared as though an artist had meticulously and deliberately not blended nature into a cohesive scene; that he’d instead superimposed examples of creation at its best on a perfect canvas.
About an hour into my journey I got my first glimpse of the mountain in stark detail. Every crack, crease and snow coated edge was visible from a distance as great as that. The feeling that I used to get when seeing it from my sharehouse was a hundred times amplified at this point. When the train pulled in at the station at nine thirty and I looked up, it seemed like an abode of the gods; so high it was almost part of the heavens and so breathtaking and beautiful that only things equally as breathtaking and beautiful could exist in its bosom.
I'm like a chihuahua. Small but fierce and full of energy. I'm generally a positive person and try to make the best of each day.