Hidden Away

Coming up with something to talk about when it wasn't already predetermined was surprisingly harder than I thought. Then I realized that there are probably just about a million things here in Japan I've already been taking advantage of. I've gotten used to this lifestyle so fast that I'm already dismissing perfectly interesting topics as too bland or uninteresting altogether.

Nothing here or anywhere else should ever be uninteresting, if you know where to look.

For the past couple of weeks, I had been meaning to explore the center of Neyagawa-shi, a part of town I always (and only) saw from the train on my way back to my host family's house. It looked inviting; there were lots of bright signs and colors and a busy-ness (is that even proper grammar?) about it that told me there would most definitely be something interesting within. Finally, a free weekend approached, and I dragged my friend and fellow blogger classmate Brad along with me. At first what we saw was just what I expected. Busy streets, stores upon stores selling the same clothing as the following stores, and numerous food markets. But at the end of that seemingly endless tunnel of covered shops was something unexpected; a small shrine behind some of the quieter shops and businesses.



Whenever I see a small, unoccupied shrine, for some reason, I feel like I'm not allowed to enter. Like if I set foot inside the gate all of the natives would suddenly pop out of their hiding places and gasp at me. But in fact, it's awfully backwards. I do most of the gawking and staring when someone goes up to actually use the facility.



Away from the large streets, this place was very quiet, and only about three people came up to use it when Brad and I were there. But they never said a word, to us or to each other, and left as quickly as they came, silently paying their respects, probably daily, as if they stop by on their way home from work.