Bombardment by high standards

Two years ago these days … this traveller was in the middle of her only massive cultural shock ever.

Landed on Tokyo to spend two months and overwhelmed by the amount and totality of design, beauty and purpose everywhere around; within a week I lost weight, got a bunch of white hair and wasn’t sleeping well; it took me days to simply start catching the subway and go sightseeing.

Don’t get this wrong: the feeling was ecstasy. The whole time. Continuously. I was under constant bombardment by high standards.

 

A few photos of the mind-blowing flat and view. It was warm and fuzzy, it had a bathroom unit and a kitchen unit, and the elevated metropolitan express highway was passing only a few meters from the third-floor balcony. (At nights I was feeling that some mythical golden river kept streaming by.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Past, future, self-knowledge, words. Robots.

Poster in train station at the town of Cheongju.

Celebrating Jikji, the world’s first book printed with movable metal elements, a collection of zen teachings printed only a few kilometers (and six and a half centuries) away.