Chapter 2 (Episode 1 ): Haruna Mountain and the Wind That Steals Your Breath
(29 November 2024)
The morning began with a gust of wind that cut straight through my jacket.
By the time I stepped off the bus at Lake Haruna, the air was so thin and cold that even my breath seemed to hesitate before leaving my mouth.
Before me lay a great stillness.
The lake spread wide like a sheet of glass, framed by brown mountains and naked trees that looked as if they’d been holding their breath since autumn.
The only movement came from a few mizu-tori (water birds), gliding effortlessly across the surface—perfectly content in the kind of weather that made me seriously question my life choices.
There was no one else around.
For a brief moment, I wondered if I had arrived too late—kōyō (autumn leaves) had long vanished, and winter had clearly arrived early.
Yet there was something deeply beautiful about the emptiness.
Japan, usually so full of sound and motion, felt as if it had paused—just for me.
The wind, however, had other plans.
It pushed at my back like an impatient guide, nudging me toward the cable car that led to Mount Haruna’s summit.
Google Maps said, cheerfully, “1.7 km.”
Google Maps neglected to add:
“Against a freezing gale that will remove all feeling from your face.”
Halfway along the path, my fingers were numb.
My face followed shortly after.
At the top, the view opened wide.
From 1,449 meters above sea level, Lake Haruna shimmered below like a forgotten mirror. Beyond it, mountains folded into one another, fading gently into mist.
There were only a handful of tourists—no more than ten.
All bundled up.
All smiling that quiet, polite Japanese smile that says, Yes, this is freezing, but we will endure.
A small wooden sign pointed toward the forest:
“Haruna Shrine – 15 min walk.”
Fifteen minutes sounded optimistic, but curiosity always wins.
The path wound through cedar trees and moss-covered stone lanterns. Each step echoed softly on the forest floor. Then suddenly, the shrine appeared—humble, ancient, almost shy in the filtered light.
I bowed once.
Clapped twice.
And whispered a small onegai shimasu—a wish light enough for the mountain to carry.
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「onegai shimasu」(お願いします)
โดยตรงแล้วแปลว่า
👉 “ขอด้วยนะครับ/ค่ะ” หรือ “รบกวนด้วย”
แต่ในภาษาญี่ปุ่น คำนี้มีความหมาย นุ่ม ลึก และยืดหยุ่นมาก ขึ้นกับบริบท เช่น:
• 🙏 เวลาขอพร / ขอสิ่งดี ๆ
→ “ขอให้เป็นไปด้วยดี”
→ “ฝากด้วยนะ” (พูดกับสิ่งศักดิ์สิทธิ์ หรือโชคชะตา)
• 🍜 เวลาสั่งอาหาร / ขอความช่วยเหลือ
→ “เอาอันนี้ครับ/ค่ะ”
→ “ช่วยจัดการให้หน่อยนะ”
• 🤝 เวลาฝากตัวหรือเริ่มต้นอะไรใหม่
→ “ฝากเนื้อฝากตัวด้วย”
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