「耳をすませば」– more commonly known as Whisper of the Heart, is undoubtably one of my favourite Studio Ghibli films – or films of all time. I urge you to watch it this very moment if you haven’t seen it already.
I found the Cinema Comic book version in a Japanese bookstore today.
Am I being delusional? I asked myself as my eyes landed on the book. I couldn’t believe it.
Having the movie in a tangible format; pictures that I can touch and read over and over to my heart’s content: intimacy only the cordial words and illustrations of a book can offer, is quite honestly, the best thing.
I thought I would do a little series on this blog that may be somewhat helpful to those thinking of travelling to Japan, seeking to learn more about Japanese culture, or eager to learn Japanese!
Next month, I will be travelling to Hiroshima, Kyoto, Osaka and Nara with my friend for roughly two weeks. I will be documenting my travels on this blog, including recommendations and tips which, perhaps, could be useful for any of you plan to travel there! As a photography enthusiast, I will also be sure to post my photographs (taken with my trusty Nikon D7000 and my iPhone 6s).
Apart from that trip, I will be staying in Tokyo until June this year, and so I will be posting regularly (hopefully) on what I get up to!
Feeling slightly nauseated by the swaying metro carriage, I try to soothe my thoughts by listening to Ennio Morricone’s Love Theme over the pounding echo of the train’s movement. The overpowering moan of the wind and sound of small talk envelopes me.
Walking through the all-too-familiar streets of Akasaka, I try not to trip, or bump into a stranger as I type this note. The blurred, overcrowded shop signs overhead are what I see when I look skywards.
I decide to turn into a backroad, sick of the people walking absentmindedly in the street. I walk towards a small shrine and then turn left, and stop. I feel a small burst of elation when I come across a small alleyway which is most probably dismissed and ignored by the many onlookers that pass by.
Biting through rice and some sort of white fish wound with a thread of seaweed, the excruciatingly bitter and painful taste of wasabi crawls through my nose, and lingers.
Wound up in an unusual situation, I sit between two drunk people. Drowning in drunk slurs of attempted conversation, I try not to breathe too heavily – trying to avoid the sickly smell of alcohol and ill-fated conversations.