May 7, 2025, Hokkaido, Japan. I packed quickly and barely made the train. Shawn likes cutting it close, and I honestly didn’t think he’d make it this time. I carried my own bag just in case. We caught the local train, but it ran late, and we almost missed our Shinkansen to Hokkaido. We had literally one minute to spare and just barely got our tickets in time. We had to exit and then re-enter, which made it even more stressful. I was so relieved once I was finally on the Shinkansen. I got the sense that Shawn was seething with resentment, so I sat alone, trying to tune him out and enjoy the ride. I ate a bunch of my pastries from Hirosaki and soaked in the countryside views.

It was exciting to finally be in Hokkaido. The Shinkansen had tunneled under the sea between Honshu and the great island to the north. I’d wanted to see Hokkaido ever since my first trip to Japan a few months prior. I was interested to see the wilderness and natural areas as well as learn more about the Ainu, the indigenous people. Sadly, I found out that they had been assimilated so effectively that very few still spoke the language or even knew of their roots. Colonization in its many forms.

When we got to the station, he insisted on walking a different way from the directions I had on my phone. I followed, as I was exhausted from all the arguments about which way to go. I have an excellent sense of direction, much better than his IMHO. But I don’t like getting separated, which he seems oblivious to.

After about 25 minutes of waiting, we boarded the bus to Matsumae. The ride was lovely—an hour and a half of winding through scenic landscapes. I sat in the very back, stretched out my legs, cracked the window for fresh air, and felt totally at ease. We went up and over a mountain and then followed the coastline. It was fascinating watching people’s lives go by outside the window. Life looked pretty modest—mostly fishermen and small homes.

When we arrived, we dropped our things off at Ryokan Yano. I was surprised they charged $120 a night—it felt like a total rip-off. The place was really run down, our room was tiny, and people were smoking all around us. The owner had a little tea shop behind the building where they charged five dollars for a weak, tiny cup of coffee. Pretty much on-brand for the rest of the ryokan.

We walked up to the park together, and I spent most of the afternoon exploring on my own. I started at the Cherry Memorial Hall, a kind of museum, where I learned about the man who had once been a schoolteacher and had dedicated his life to collecting, grafting, and planting cherry trees from all over Japan. That night, I chose a little izakaya for dinner, and the owner remembered that same man—she had been one of his students.

I wandered around the fair and grabbed some squid and pork fat from a vendor stall—I didn’t realize it was the last day of Golden Week. The place was lively and full of families and kids. I loved watching everyone having fun—it felt so festive.

From there, I went back to the memorial museum, and then I explored the historical recreation of Matsumae village. It was great—you could actually walk through the old-style buildings: an inn, a rice merchant’s shop, a wealthy merchant’s home, a ship model display, a barber, a fisherman’s house, a samurai residence, and even a tenement for poorer families. There was also a rice storage facility. I really enjoyed it.

Around 4:30, I decided to hike up toward the hills, where Shawn said he’d been earlier. Just behind the recreated village, I found a pond and some winding paths I loved, so I told Shawn about it. I picked up a bamboo walking stick with bells attached and headed up the trail—not worried about bears. The hike felt like a secret path through the forest, lined with small statues of Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and other deities. It led steeply up to a ridge and eventually to a memorial for Basho, then began descending. But the trail eventually vanished, leading down into what looked like a quarry and a clear-cut area. I had no idea where I was.

I knew I didn’t have enough time to turn back, so I pushed ahead, hoping I’d find a way out. Thankfully, I’ve found my way out of places like this before, but I barely made it by 7 p.m. I had to bushwhack for a solid 20 minutes through undergrowth until I found a faint trail. I was exhausted and honestly unsure if I’d make it out in time. The broken walkways I stumbled across gave me a clue that helped me get my bearings.

That night, we ate at a place called Jin, which was a disappointment. Strangely, they didn’t even serve fish—even though Matsumae is a fishing village. I’d seen a few small shops selling dried fish and seaweed on the way into town, so I figured there would be fresh fish. Maybe they’d overfished the coast here.

May 8. I didn’t sleep well. Shawn woke up at 6:40 and inadvertently had woken me up too. I couldn’t fall back asleep for a while, but eventually drifted off again. I had identified Tenoha Café as having the best latte, and was eager to find out. It was located inside a community center. It turns out that there are several other community centers like this one in Japan, established as joint ventures between an energy company and several nonprofits to help revitalize poorer towns. Matsumae used to be connected by train, but after the herring industry collapsed in the early 1900s due to overfishing, the town became a backwater.

I was disappointed to find out they were closed, but was heartened by a sign that said they would be open tomorrow. Turned out to be false advertising. I found out the next day that they would be closed for this entire week. It seemed a lot of places were doing the same—Golden Week had apparently turned into “Golden Weeks.”

I hiked up a hill in the rain and discovered a burial site for the soldiers from the Battle of Hakodate. There were memorial stones honoring samurai, ronin, and even children who had died. It was just above the same quarry area I had wandered into the day before, and I recognized the terrain and the clear-cut from above.

Afterward, I went to the tea shop behind the ryokan (same owner) and waited 15 minutes for a lukewarm cup of coffee. I paid the ridiculous $5 and left. I reheated a pastry and made my way to the castle. It had been raining since morning and didn’t stop until around 2:30 p.m. I left the castle and headed down to a restaurant where Shawn had lunch. The food was good, but it took over 30 minutes, so I didn’t finish until 3:15. After that, I climbed back up to look at the cherry blossoms. Sadly, the sun was already low in the sky, which dulled their brightness—I regretted not going earlier when the light was better.

I spent the rest of the afternoon strolling and admiring the blossoms. That evening, I suggested a restaurant that turned out not to exist. Once again, I had to decide where we’d eat. Shawn had stopped participating in food decisions altogether, which was frustrating.

Eventually, I spotted another place and we went in. It was perfect. The woman who ran it had taken over her father’s old sushi bar and turned it into something beautiful. The counter was a massive slab of what looked like Zelkova wood, and the whole place was thoughtfully decorated. The food was amazing, and she was incredibly kind. She shared stories about growing up in Matsumae and the history of the town—I asked Shawn to help translate.

I noticed how especially warm the women in town were—the woman at the Cherry Memorial Hall, the sushi bar owner, the woman in the fish shop, and the one at the textile store the next day. All of them were friendly and full of life. It struck me that even though this was a poorer area compared to other places we’d been, people seemed genuinely happy.