Trip Notes: Fragments of Flame
Friday. It was 7 p.m. The sky was gradually darkening. Not quite night, but no longer evening—a time suspended between the two. One by one, the shops in the shopping street were beginning to light up at their own pace. People in the town, though not showing it on their faces, seemed to have a quiet spring in their step as they headed home or out for dinner. One of the purposes of this trip was finally about to begin: a seminar in Osaka I had been eager to attend. But it wasn’t the kind of “seminar” held in a conference room with formal lectures. It was being held at a very unusual bar called “Weekly Magari,” located in an attic space.
This bar had a unique system where the manager changed daily. They accepted open applications, and each selected manager brought their own event and gathered their own audience. The managers didn’t receive financial compensation, but it was the perfect place to host events or bring people together. That evening, the one-day manager was Aki-san, a friend of mine and an entrepreneur. His event, broadly speaking, was about moving to the Netherlands. Aki-san had already obtained a visa and was planning to relocate there with his family in the near future. Looking at my own situation from a bird’s-eye view, I had started to think that maybe moving abroad could also be an option for me. That’s why I saw this chance to speak with someone actually about to leave the country as extremely valuable, and more than anything, I wanted to hear Aki-san’s words directly—someone so full of drive and courage to take on new challenges.
When I climbed the stairs and entered the bar, no one else had arrived yet. But the space was packed with retro Showa-era goods—every inch filled with nostalgia. Some items I had completely forgotten, others had been quietly floating near the surface of my memory for years. It was bizarre—in a way, the very definition of a strange space. Being inside it, I gradually started to recall my cousin’s room from when I was little. His room, too, was filled with games and toys, just like this bar. I even thought I could faintly smell the same scent of foreign-brand fabric softener that used to linger there. Whenever I went to play, I would lose track of time, refusing to go home and just wanting to keep playing. But at some point, we grew distant. I don’t know why. Or maybe there was no reason at all. It just happened. That sort of thing happens to everyone in life. And maybe, when the time is right, you draw close again. Or maybe you never will. We meet, we part, we meet again, and part again. There’s no sadness or loneliness in that natural flow. But I think a kind of nostalgia—a quiet melancholy—always lingers somewhere in the heart.
“Hey hey! Good evening!” Aki-san arrived with the same cheerful energy as ever. It was only my second time meeting him, but just like the first, he was bursting with energy—an unstoppable force running at 120%. Once you meet him, you never forget him. That’s the kind of impact he leaves on people. The moment he stepped in, the entire bar seemed to get a bit brighter, a bit warmer. Aki-san slipped behind the counter, and with a casual “Alright then,” he launched straight into an impassioned talk. About Japan today. About the Netherlands. About his view on life. About his past. And about his vision for the future. With fiery passion and full body expression, he spoke humorously, but always with a serious core. Before I realized it, other customers had started to arrive, and the place filled up with Showa-era memorabilia and people. Aki-san seemed to shift into an even higher gear. Holding a gin and tonic, he smiled and spoke while looking directly into everyone’s eyes. But somehow, his gaze felt like it was focused on a faraway world.
“Of course, there are risks, and it costs money. But when I think about ten years from now... If I imagine myself staying in Japan for ten more years, versus living in the Netherlands for ten years—between the two, without a doubt! I believe I’d rather be the one living in the Netherlands. That life would absolutely be more exciting. Sure, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of difficulties once I get there. But I’ll deal with them then. Things will work out one way or another.”
He wore a bright, beaming smile the entire time. And in his eyes was that unmistakable spark—something only seen in those pursuing their dreams. It reminded me of the eyes of the friend I had met in Nara the day before. I realized once again that eyes really do reflect the heart. Before I knew it, the clock had passed midnight, but Aki-san remained at full throttle. I thanked him and the others at the bar, said goodbye, and stepped outside. Then I walked back alone, slowly, to the hotel where I was staying.
There was almost no one else walking through the dark midnight streets. I felt like a small fragment of his passion—his flame—had transferred to me, and was quietly glowing inside. As the night breeze passed through my body, it felt cool and comforting. I thought, maybe this fragment of flame will someday pass by that quiet melancholy that lives somewhere, and perhaps even exchange a few words with it.
A large fork in the road appeared in front of me. Now then, which way should I go?
