Where in the World is Marta Senn-Diego? Part Four: Fukuoka? I Hardly Know Her!

My fourth day was pretty simple: get to Fukuoka/Hakata, check in, sleep. Of course, the best plans are the ones that are never laid out or something like that. Oh, I got to Fukuoka. After seven hours of train riding I got to Fukuoka. Of course, that's nothing compared to what it took to get to Hiroshima, so I wasn't complaining. It was also a beautiful ride, and I got to enjoy looking at the aquamarine seaside along the way. It was a lot warmer, though, so by the time I reached Hakata Station, I was feeling self-conscious and pungent.

I was feeling very excited when I arrived, spotting all the familiar landmarks I'd seen with my parents. Unfortunately, no, Allan the Bard wasn't on the street. Sorry, Dad, I looked. Sorry, Grampa, I looked...but not for long and not down any dark alleys.

I checked into the very cool Hana Hostel which was easy enough to spot: in a shopping arcade and next to an OWL CAFE! It was closed by the time I arrived, but I know where I'm going when I go back to Hakata next week!

Udon refuel at the station

The staff was very cool, and mostly Japanese except for the one Brit who is actually working there in exchange for free room and board for a couple weeks. He works a few hours a day and is free to explore the rest of the time. I looked into doing that, but it didn't mesh well with my plans. But he liked it and recommends it.

Made with love...and octopus!

It just so happens that shortly after I checked in, the staff was going to host a little takoyaki party and cook some fresh for the guests. I was tempted to bow out because my first experience with octopus balls wasn't at all impressive: soggy and cold. No bueno. But for 300 yen, I could be persuaded to hang out and just relax for the evening rather than hole up in my bunk.

I made the right choice! Along with the staff of four and myself, the party was small: a British couple joined us and later on, I met Nyle...he's French originally, but has spent seven years traveling. I found another Nomad, Dad! But Nyle is cleaner, not a recovered alcoholic and had cute little dreadlocks in his little sandy blonde beard. He's been all over, and wants to make it to South America or Africa after Japan, whenever that is. We spent a good amount of time talking philosophy and volunteerism. He was quiet, but cheerful and the whole group was just pleasant company.

We chatted and cooked our takoyaki until about 9pm. I'd eaten more than my fair share, I'm sure, and needed to take a stroll. I wandered the streets, ducked into host and hostess bars district (to give you an idea, the girls look like baby dolls and the boys look like girls looking like baby dolls, only more pouty), and walked along the river.

At night, ramen and yakitori stands are set up along the river for guests to duck under the sheet plastic and have a quick bite. They have food trucks in the West, but these little pop up restaurants in the East. I find that really fascinating and if I wasn't stuffed, would have sat and enjoyed a beer and gazed at the evening sakura with the rest of the patrons.

Instead, I went back, finally showered and tucked in for a good night's rest before moving on to Sasebo. But before hitting the tracks, I left the hostel early to see a shrine around the corner.

I don't pray, but I wish. If anything, it's a way to remind myself to take it slow. When I ring the bell and close my eyes and think "I wish to be patient and cool-headed," I'm really just reminding myself to be conscious and careful so I don't get scattered and lose something vital like my passport, tickets, or sanity.

So far, it's worked out nicely.