Northern Japan #3: Sendai, Tohoku

Late August 2009

(Monday afternoon)

Sendai didn’t like me much, and, as a consequence, I didn’t like it.

Buildings were crammed together, tangled with big streets and side streets and even a crowded little marketplace that sold melons and fish; gigantic department stores, chain convenience stores, drug stores, and construction, all so very Japanese and so very tiresome, battled for space and narrowed my view. A huge bus/ taxi circle was plopped right in front of the station, and I couldn’t get across.

I had to go up to the second floor to the pedestrian overwalk. But even from there I couldn’t see more than two or three buildings deep. My little map to the Library Hotel had made it look so simple. Just go straight down a certain street. If only I could find said certain street. There were several roads branching off from the station, not all of them listed on my map. And I couldn’t see the landmarks, because the damn department stores were blocking my view. I stared at the city several minutes, raindrops blurring the ink of my map—did I mention it was raining?—before deciding there was nothing to do but push off and do my best to find it.

Of course I got lost.

The rain, which had started off barely a drizzle, became malicious. It pounded down. And then the wind came up, blowing strong. My small black collapsible umbrella could not shelter the bulk of my backpack, my duffle bag, and my shoulder bag combined. My shoes filled with water. I went up one road and decided I went too far. I turned left and went down another road. I went back to the first road. I turned right and headed back toward the direction of the station.

I never did find my hotel. I found a Library Hotel—it turned out there were three near the station. The people at the front desk were kind enough to let me transfer my reservation from the Library Hotel I couldn’t find to the one I could. They were also kind enough not to remark on the gallons of water I was dripping onto their nice, expensive-looking floor.

On the train ride down I had packaged souvenirs for my family, and my first order of business in Sendai was to mail them. Once I finished, it was pushing 3:00. I wanted to see Sendai Castle, but that was on the other side of the city and the buses only ran every half hour. And after that I still had errands: buying books, picking up a Starbucks Sendai tumbler for my teacher, and doing my laundry. Time, like a vice, was beginning to squeeze me.

I was obliged to see the castle. I was obliged to see something, how could I just stay in my hotel and see nothing of the city. On the other hand, did I really want to go traipsing about the ruins—that’s right, not even a real castle—the ruins of Sendai Castle, in the rain and wind and mud when I had seen a dozen Japanese castles already and would see at least one more before the trip was over? Did I really care about Sendai City and its proud history?

Would visiting Sendai Castle lead me to health and peace of mind? Or would it make me more stressed?

It would, I decided, stress me out.

The weather cinched it. Would anyone blame me for not going out in a mini-typhoon? No. I proceeded to my bookstore, where I bought three Agatha Christie novels. I read one and a half books while I did my laundry. Perhaps it was a bit of a waste, not seeing the castle—but to be honest, I couldn’t think of a more delightful way to pass the evening.

One last thing. Although I didn’t eat anything exotic inside the city of Sendai, I did eat a rather interesting bento, or boxed lunch, on the train ride to Sendai. It was called “gyuutan” or cow’s tongue, which happens to be Sendai’s specialty food. When I pulled a string, my box puffed up and steam swooped out through the cracks. After about ten minutes I had hot rice with about five strips of beef (and a flower-shaped slice of carrot) laying on top. The cow tongue was a little greasy, but tasty. The only thing that disturbed me was the bumps on the surface of the meat.