The Broken Hearts Honeymoon

by Lucy Dickens

  I squinted at her, not sure if she was telling me the truth.

  Mum continued, ‘It would be a shame for your lovely outfit to go to waste, why don’t the two of you just have a wedding reception instead? I’ll put a CD on and you can have a dance party, how does that sound?’

  I sat on the sofa next to Benny. ‘Well, Mara’s shoes hurt a bit.’ Oh look at that, I was a snitch, oops.

  ‘Right-o, then how about half an hour of TV instead, a thank you from me for being so thoughtful.’

  Mum didn’t have to say TV twice and Benny and I kicked off our shoes and curled up beside each other, instantly glued to Dick and Dom in da Bungalow.

  I looked at my brother and reached over to hold his hand, which had unclenched now, and he leant on me, and actually I was glad I didn’t marry him today. I think it would have ruined our friendship.

  This memory floats about in my head and brings a smile back to my face as I look up at the cherry blossom. I must give Benny a call this evening. He sounded so unlike himself the last time we spoke. After a while just gazing at the view and allowing myself to be present in the moment, my tummy growls, so I sit up.

  The park is less crowded now, only just, but I’ve been lying here a while and the sun is lower in the sky, the cherry blossom beginning to lose that bright reflective light a tiny bit. I pull out my phone to take a bit of footage, which I’ll edit together later, and then I turn the camera on myself, lying on my front so the pink flowers are behind my head and I tell my followers a little about what’s been on my mind. When I first started these videos it was strange, talking to an unknown quantity of friends, and strangers – and maybe Matt? – about my wedding, or lack thereof. I didn’t even like talking to the four people on the Honeymoon Highlights tour about it, it was excruciating for me. Now it feels less effort to be authentic, be myself, and share what’s on my mind.

  ‘… So if you’ve ever wanted to know what it feels like to be wrapped inside the most beautiful, delicate wedding dress, with a soft, floral scent filling your nose and your whole world, then this is the place to come, at this time of year. Because I didn’t think it was my time to feel like that, as you know, but this is a pretty good substitute.’ I let the camera slide away from my face and point up to the trees. ‘No stress, no worrying about the perfect day or sticking to timetables, just enjoying the moment.’

  I take a slow walk back to the hotel, feeling in no rush to skirt past the crowds and instead just be swept along back up the hill and into the lobby.

  Inside, I round the corner to see a meeting room, it’s double doors ajar, with people spilling into the corridor listening to the speaker. Creeping closer, one of the women standing in the doorway catches my eye, and she smiles, and bows her head a little before shifting to the side to let me stand next to her. I bow back and peer in, leaning against the doorframe.

  At the front of the room is a couple, perhaps in their fifties, presenting a slideshow of deep green forestry, close-ups of ferns, vistas of mountains and brush strokes of rivers. The man and woman speak in quick yet companionable Japanese, easily handing the narration from one another using prompts the rest of us can’t see.

  The audience laughs at something the man says and his face lights up like he’s excited to have found these kindred spirits.

  The woman points at things on the screen – a branch, a leaf, and then turns back to the audience and closes her eyes, breathing in and exhaling with her face held high. She gestures for the audience to do the same and they do, and although I’m only picking up maybe one in every hundred words, I find myself swept along for the ride and I breathe in, and exhale with my face held high.

  Nobody seems to mind me having joined them so I stay put, listening to the rhythmic language and watching the slideshow, until two English words are spoken and it snaps me to attention.

  ‘Forest bathing,’ the woman at the front says, looking directly at me and smiling. She repeats it. ‘Forest bathing … shinrin-yoku.’ She points to a picture on the screen of her and the man (I presume her husband) standing within a big majestic forest, holding hands and looking up at the trees.

  I nod with understanding, though I don’t quite understand. I struggle for a suitable word and end up saying, ‘Onsen?’ which is actually a hot spring or public bath but is the closest thing I can think of right now.

  A few members of the audience chuckle but not impolitely, and the man picks up the top sheet of a stack of print-outs at the front and signals for it to be passed back to me. When it reaches me, he bows and I bow back and then read the top couple of lines, which is a print-out in both Japanese and English explaining what the bloomin’ heck ‘forest bathing’ is.

  Spoiler alert: it’s nothing to do with getting into your swimmies in the middle of the woods.

  Shinrin-yoku, aka forest bathing, appears to be a way for people with busy lives (that is, everybody in these modern times) to take some time out and let nature re-centre them. By spending some time outdoors and focusing on what’s around you, rather than being plugged into an audiobook or talking on the phone, it’s supposed to let your mind settle and let you enjoy life more. I guess it’s mindfulness, with the help of the big wide world rather than just being left to the devices in your own mind.

  I don’t know about you, but my mind really struggles to shut the hell up, and although I’ve been beginning to do it more over the past couple of weeks it’s tough to stay present when you’re thinking about, what does that character mean? Where shall I spend the night after tomorrow? How cool was that thing I saw? Where’s the nearest place I can buy mochi at 2.30am? Will my vlogs be enough to write some articles to show Adventure Awaits? Why didn’t he want to marry me (Matt, not my brother)? How hot was Riku? And who the hell am I anyway?

  So in short: forest bathing sounds ace, and probably what I need. I’m diving in.

  When the talk is over and everybody has applauded and started filtering out, I go up to the couple at the front and say in clunky Japanese after bowing, ‘Konbanwa, domo arigato, watashi wa Charlotte desu, hajimemashite.’ I get it out all at once for fear of losing confidence, but hopefully I said something along the lines of ‘Good evening, thank you very much, my name is Charlotte, nice to meet you.’ I follow with an extra thank you, gesturing to the paper I’m clutching and then point to the screen and say, ‘Where?’ because I don’t know the word and hope my imitation of the shrug emoji combined with an interested face might indicate what I mean.

  The lovely woman taps my arm kindly, and says, ‘Japan Alps.’ The man shuffles his papers and pulls out a print-out of a map of Japan and she runs her finger down a section of it on the main island. ‘All Japan Alps.’ She then points out the window because Nagano is, in fact, in the Japanese Alps, so of course that’s where the couple would be offering a free talk to the tourists.

  I thank them again and wave and bow a goodbye, and then carry on up to my room where I splash out on room service, ordering some tempura, rice and miso soup, because I have some planning to do.

  Chapter 14

  Back to basics, and

  Back to nature, but I think

  I’m moving forward

  It’s decided – I’ll be taking a detour! Well, it isn’t really a detour because I hadn’t planned in the next section of my journey, but I’d been thinking about hanging around Nagano for a couple more days before investigating staying in a Buddhist monastery (something Matt would never have agreed to, not in a rude way, but he just would have got itchy to Do More Things) and then on to my final stop of Mount Fuji.

  You know, it annoyed me a little, Matt refusing to entertain the idea of the monastery stay. He knew it had been something I’d liked the sound of, ever since I’d read about it in my trusty Ariel C article, but he thought we’d be visiting enough temples as it was. ‘The very fact we’re going to Japan means you’re already getting your way,’ he would kind-of joke when I’d protest. ‘Can I have my say on some of it?’ And I would give in, because he was
kind-of right. But looking back … I didn’t force him to come to Japan, he loved the idea, and went along with it willingly. And I involved him in every decision, even though he was more than happy to leave me to do all the research and detailing. I didn’t force him to do anything. Anything!

  Digression aside, instead of going straight from Nagano to my monastery, tomorrow I’m heading into the wilderness! I can get a train from Nagano to a place called Matsumoto, then jump on a bus which takes me to the village of Kamikochi, a hub within the Chubu Sangaku National Park, where visitors can go on hikes, follow trails, camp, relax or just enjoy nature, maybe dipping their toe into a little forest bathing.

  I lick my fingers after I’ve eaten the last morsel of buttery-coated tempura prawn, brush the crumbs off my hand and pick up the phone to call my little brother.

  ‘All right, Charlie!’ he sounds muffled when he comes on the line and I hear him leave somewhere crowded and step outside, voices replaced with birds chirping.

  ‘Benny! Is this a good time for a chat?’

  ‘Sure, I was just sorting out a couple of things in the students’ union.’

  ‘Everything okay?’

  He hesitates a millisecond too long and then says. ‘Yeah, all fine. What have you been up to today?’

  I’ll circle back to him in a mo once I’ve got him chatting. ‘Today I’ve been looking at monkeys chilling in a hot spring, and gazing up at cherry blossom trees, and tomorrow I’m heading into the Alps for some hiking!’

  ‘Japan has Alps? I thought they were in France, or Italy or … Wait, you, hiking?’

  ‘I like hiking!’ I protest. At least I think I do. I’ve only done a few hikes in the past during holidays, but the idea of doing one of those month-long, hauling about a tent and a tin mug kind of trips somewhere beautiful and dramatic like the Rocky Mountains or the Camino de Santiago trip in France and Spain, has always appealed to me. Not enough to have done anything about it, yet, but maybe that could be my next trip, if this goes well. A camping trip would certainly be better suited to what will be a severe lack of funds …

  ‘Anyway,’ I say, ‘tell me what’s going on in your life.’

  ‘Nothing interesting, just wish I was out there with you.’

  ‘No you don’t, once you’ve finished uni you’ll find much more interesting people to go on holiday with than your sister.’

  ‘That’s probably true,’ he jokes. ‘But …’

  I wait a while to see if he’s going to continue.

  ‘… I don’t know. I think I’m just not sure what to do when I finish uni, full stop.’

  ‘Nobody does,’ I try and reassure him.

  ‘Some people do. You did.’

  I pause. I know that this is one of those older sibling moments where I have to be careful with my words, because my brother is counting on me to say the right thing. Did I know what I wanted to do? I moved home after university so that I could save money and Matt and I could get married, but was that really what I wanted to do? After everything that happened, I’m starting to think that I just sort of got swept along with the wedding planning and the move to London and actually I didn’t know what I was doing at all. I don’t remember stopping to consider if the decisions I was making about my life were really what I wanted.

  ‘I thought I did. I suppose I still do, I think, but if there’s one thing I’m discovering while walloping about Japan on my tod it’s that it doesn’t matter how planned out you have things, stuff changes. Shit happens. So I might know what kind of job I want but I don’t know a lot else about myself any more.’

  ‘But you’re discovering it out there.’

  ‘And you’ll figure it out. Don’t beat yourself up, little bro, enjoy your last few months of uni and we’ll work out the rest once it’s done.’

  He sighs, but says, ‘All right,’ and then changes the topic to, ‘Did Gray tell you he’s got a new girlfriend?’

  ‘Shut the front door, tell me everything.’ I cross my legs on the bed and rip open a cellophane-wrapped mochi ball I’d squirrelled away inside a shoe and had found earlier, by putting my foot in it. I munch on the soft, sweet squidge and listen to my brother tell me tales of home, while I sit in my hotel in Japan, smiling as he talks. He might not have wanted to marry me when he was four years old, but he’s going to make someone (not related) very happy one day.

  When I get off the phone to Benny I take a quick look at how my latest IGTV episode is doing and, scanning down the list of new followers, which seems to grow each day, I’m shocked to see a couple of blue ticks beside names.

  ‘No way,’ I whisper, noticing that a couple of travel influencers I’ve followed for a while have returned the favour.

  But what’s more shocking? The message that’s come in. From Matt.

  Just one line, in response to my latest video under the cherry blossoms. You always looked pretty in pink.

  My heart stops. Did I read that right? I can’t … I don’t know what to make of that.

  And then, what did he have to do that for? Should I be pleased about receiving his greeting-card flattery? Because at the moment I feel more annoyed at him invading my space. Go and tell your new girlfriend she looks pretty, I think. She won’t be his girlfriend yet, though, will she?

  I’m not going to let it bother me. I stand up and let the shower water run over me, drowning out the noise. I’m not even going to let it in.

  I arrive into Kamikochi mid-afternoon of the following day. The further I travelled into Chubu Sangaku National Park the more excited I felt, and I was pressed against the bus window the whole time, my face upturned to see every mountain peak and craggy rock face we passed.

  Stepping off the bus, finally, my trainers hit the ground and the smell of thick forest and pine trees fills my nose. The air is warm and that distinctive thud-thud of walking boots on a dusty road harmonises with the birds hanging out in the trees above me. It’s the very start of the season here, the park having only been open a week or two, but already there are lots of visitors milling about, propping themselves on walking sticks, filling their water bottles at taps, and taking selfies with the mountains behind them.

  I stop for a selfie with the mountain behind me and then navigate my way to the information centre.

  ‘Konnichiwa,’ I greet the information assistant behind the counter with a bow, which she returns. ‘Um …’ Oh bugger, I have no idea how to say what I want to say here. I tried so hard to learn some Japanese phrases but I just clam up when it comes to using them. Plus I didn’t think I’d need to know, what overnight hike would you recommend for an inexperienced but enthusiastic Brit on her own? Instead, I end up waving at the map stuck to the counter and saying ‘Ichi yoru, um, aruku, um, easy, kudasai?’ This roughly translates, but not really, as ‘One night, um, walk, um, easy, please.’ I supplement my bad use of language by using my fingers to look like legs walking on the map.

  Luckily, the woman is very kind and hands me a leaflet in English that explains some of the common walks and points out things like overnight accommodation.

  ‘Tent?’ she asks.

  ‘No … do I need one?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Oh, okay. I thank her and head back out into the sunshine, where I take a seat on a nearby rock and study the map until I find what sounds like a lovely trek, with rivers, forest, mountains and hopefully lots of adventure. I take a big inhale of the mountain air. This feels right.

  By late afternoon, when the sun is dipping behind the Hida Mountains and weary travellers are returning to the campsite with their muddy boots and sweaty faces, I’m feeling very Reese Witherspoon in Wild. I’m also feeling quite Ariel Cortez when she did a big backpacking trip in Indonesia. I made Mum let me camp in the garden for a week after I read that piece. Now, I haven’t gone anywhere yet, but I look the part, next to my rented tent, sitting on a tree stump ready to eat my instant ramen, my camping essentials lined up neatly.

  I thought camping would be a cheap option, but a
fter hiring one of the Kamikochi campsite’s fixed tents and all of the gear I was lacking (camping mat, sleeping bag, pillow, a mug) I could see why an impromptu trip to the Northern Japan Alps is something most people plan a little more in advance.

  I kick up a couple of leaves and poke my noodles, my heart bouncing in my chest. I knew it, I knew I would enjoy this kind of thing. It’s taken five attempts for my camping gas to stay alight and I didn’t bring enough sweaters but I feel … I don’t know. A bird catches my eye and swoops overhead, framed by the tips of the tall trees before shaking out its wings and heading off wherever it wants to head off.

  Tomorrow I’m doing it, maybe only for one night but I am heading off for an adventure. But I’ll have to tell you all about it in the morning, reader, because my noodles are done and it’s nearly six o’clock so I need to go to bed now, ready for my big day tomorrow.

  I lie in bed, using the term ‘bed’ pretty loosely, my rented sleeping bag pulled up to my neck and the sounds of the wildlife outside my tent. I had hoped to fall straight to sleep ready for my big day, but I was looking for inspiration on how to film some epic national park footage and have now worked myself up a bit to the tune of Charlotte, you dum dum! You’ll never get the job!

  Why? Because I searched for the tag #Adventure-AwaitsJob and found quite a collection of uploaded videos from people who were clearly pro travel vloggers ready to take the leap and apply for a coveted role at the magazine. The videos were stylish, beautiful, the guys and girls full of bounce and nose piercings and muddy knees but shaved legs and I thought about my silly little tries where I blabber to the camera about my big fat failed wedding while Japan happens behind me.

  I’m being a little hard on myself, so I try and shake it off. It’s okay, a little healthy competition is fine. What I have is passion and history with the magazine. It’s got to count for something, right? And I try to remember that I wouldn’t have been picked for the internship if they didn’t think I was good.