Chapter 1 (Episode 5) Onward to Takasaki
Eventually, I boarded another train and headed for Takasaki.
The city unfolded in soft winter light. Young people hurried across the station plaza; neon signs winked awake.
I had decided to stay in Takasaki for four nights, not because it had aggressively marketed itself to me, but because it sat squarely in the middle of Gunma Prefecture, minding its own business and connecting everything.
From Takasaki, trains and buses radiate outward like well-behaved children—to mountains, waterfalls, onsen towns, and places so quiet you start lowering your voice out of respect.
It felt less like choosing a destination and more like choosing a sensible pair of shoes: not exciting, but deeply reassuring.
Takasaki became my unofficial headquarters, a basecamp where I could disappear each morning and return each night slightly colder, slightly wiser, and considerably hungrier.
The town itself didn’t overwhelm me. It didn’t demand sightseeing or emotional commitment.
Instead, it quietly offered warm streets, reliable transport, and—most importantly—food that appeared exactly when my energy had vanished.
My hotel was a narrow, slightly outdated business inn—with two thin beds and a bathroom the size of a suitcase.
Chīsai kedo kawaii, I thought. Small, but charming.
The cold deepened as I walked outside, and I surrendered to the nearest bowl of convenience-store noodle.
I ate it standing by the window.
Later, with a can of beer in hand and the city fading into silence, I felt a kind of gentle solitude settle in—like Japan had wrapped me in a quiet blanket and said,
“Rest. Tomorrow, the mountains are waiting.”
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