Walking to Yaizu, the City of Connections
This was it. My friend’s mom was heading back to America, and with that, it meant it was finally time for me to start walking. No more planning, no more thinking about it—just go. I packed my bag, took the obligatory Instagram photo, opened Google Maps, didn’t even bother looking at the route, put in one earbud, and started moving.
About an hour in, I called my mom to check in, but after that, it really sank in: the trip had officially started. What surprised me almost immediately was how quickly I got distracted. I thought I’d be locked in, focused on the walk, but instead I found myself wandering into random shops, grocery stores, anything that caught my attention. It felt like I had unlocked some kind of permission to just be curious. I wasn’t in a rush anymore—I was just… there.
It was also insanely sunny so I walked into a home and garden store and walked out with a hat. Not just any hat—the classic pointed, round one. The kind people in America might casually call a rice hat. I remember thinking, is this weird/bad to wear? Is this crossing some line? But the real test was – how people around me would react.
And the difference was immediate.
Before the hat, people kept their distance. No smiles, no interaction, just quiet avoidance. I had assumed it was because I was a foreigner, but I’ve also been told I have a pretty serious resting face. So put that together—a 6’1” white guy walking alone with a serious expression—and yeah, I probably wasn’t the most approachable person. If I walked toward someone, good chance they swap to the other side of the street. But with the hat on, everything changed. People smiled. Kids came up to say hello. The entire energy shifted. It reminded me of that line from The Dark Knight Rises: “No one cared who I was until I put on the mask.” That’s exactly what it felt like. The hat took away whatever intensity I was giving off. Maybe it made me look a little ridiculous, but honestly, I’d rather people enjoy my presence than feel uncomfortable around me. Days later, the hat is still going strong.
If you don’t have Instagram, I highly recommend getting it and following me. Throughout the walk, I post a lot of stories and save highlights so you can keep up with everything happening along the way. A lot of the pictures with captions are from my Instagram! @nomadokai
The first few hours of walking were actually peaceful. I was moving between mountains alongside a freeway, but there was a perfectly paved walking path the whole way. At one point, I stopped at a convenience store, and a truck driver handed me a bag with a Pocari Sweat and a CalorieMate. I had only been walking for a couple hours, and already a complete stranger had gone out of his way to help me. It caught me off guard in the best way.
Later, I walked through this long, almost surreal freeway tunnel, the kind that makes you feel small as you move through it. Kind of spooky.
Not long after, a guy across the street started yelling something to me in Japanese. I couldn’t understand him, but we tried anyway—gestures, broken words, just attempting to connect. After about ten minutes, he gave up trying to explain and instead handed me a fruit that looked like an orange, insisting I should cut it instead of peel it. I still don’t know what it was. Moments like that made me realize how much I wish I could communicate better. There’s so much I want to say in those situations, but I just can’t yet.
By the time I reached Yaizu(15 miles), my body was completely done. My feet felt like I was walking on nails, my shoulders were shot, and the muscles behind my legs were so tight it hurt to even stand. Checking in didn’t feel like relief—it just made me think, how am I supposed to walk across Japan like this? I forced myself to rest for about an hour before going out to eat, eventually landing in a small izakaya. The owner was incredibly kind, speaking slowly and asking simple questions so I could actually participate in the conversation. That alone made the experience worth it. I definitely overdid it though—too many drinks and skewers. I ran up the bill kind of high for one person. It still isn’t bad because Japan is pretty cheap with USD but in general I should be more careful.
The next morning was supposed to be a rest day, but it didn’t really turn out that way. My shoulder felt a little better, but my feet and legs were still wrecked. I went out for ramen and, for some reason, found myself craving fruit afterward, so I searched for a smoothie and ended up at a place called Karma Café. That decision felt like fate. Within minutes, another foreigner sat down next to me—a guy who had been living in Japan for 30 years as a teacher. He was so excited about what I was doing that he canceled his plans just to stay and talk. Then Mario showed up, a French Canadian yoga teacher who spoke Japanese and radiated good energy, followed by his wife, whose life story sounded like something out of a movie—years of traveling, learning languages, eventually reconnecting and building a life together in Japan. Before I knew it, I was being offered connections all across the country. It was day one, and somehow I was already building a network just by showing up. Mario even showed me his passion project, a bar he is building.
Later, I decided to face something I had been avoiding: going to an onsen. Being completely naked around strangers was way outside my comfort zone. I hadn’t grown up with locker room culture, so this felt like stepping into unknown territory. I was hoping the shower area would be empty but there was only one seat open. This meant I had to sit on a stool between two other people. But once I got past the initial hesitation it was surprisingly normal. No one cared. It was just part of the routine. After the wash I entered the mineral rich hot spring. So all was good, until I got out, I didn’t know where to go. Everyone was going into another room or sitting down waiting for a standing shower. Apparently you are supposed to rinse off before leaving or enter the sauna.
Of course, the day didn’t stop there. Back in the locker room, I met a Norwegian guy who told me he was skating from Hiroshima to Tokyo. I told him I was walking across Japan, and we both kind of just clicked. We exchanged Instagram handles and realized we were staying at the same place. Earlier, I had also met a Vietnamese staff member at the hotel, and within a couple sentences we somehow ended up talking about League of Legends—apparently there’s no escaping that part of my life.
The plan was for all three of us to go out after his shift, so the Norwegian guy and I decided to head out early and pregame a bit. We ended up at a recommended izakaya that had absolutely no English—nothing. Not even the prices were in anything we could recognize. We tried using Google Translate, but the translations were so bad that we just gave up and started ordering based on whatever sounded the funniest. That’s how we ended up with dishes called “child bag changer” and “heart stabbing.”
While we were there, we talked a lot about his trip. He’s basically doing the same thing as me, just on a smaller scale, so I was trying to pick up anything I could learn for what’s ahead. I definitely got some insight, but more than anything, I realized he’s just a genuinely likeable guy.
After that, we headed back to the hotel to meet up with our Vietnamese friend, who had just finished his shift, along with another Vietnamese traveler staying there. The four of us went out to a different izakaya, where they had this game where you roll dice to determine your drink price—half off, full price, or double. From there, the night kind of spiraled in the best way. We talked, laughed, yelled, and probably got way too loud(good thing it was an izakaya). It’s honestly hard to put into words how good the vibes were—it was just one of those nights where everything clicks and you don’t want it to end.
What was supposed to be a rest day turned into me going to sleep at 5:30 in the morning and waking up four hours later to continue walking.