Monday, October 13th, Fukuoka
It's strange, but we both wake up from the sound of the boat mooring and the engine running differently. We slept well in our bunks. Once the boat has come to a standstill, it takes a while before we are allowed to disembark. We sailed from Busan in South Korea to Fukuoka in Japan. At customs, just like in South Korea, we don't get a stamp but a sticker in our passports. My bags are too wide to go through the gate. Awkwardly, I remove one rear bag and squeeze my way into Japan. Wen has a different experience. Friendly Japanese people lift the back of her bike and she is through the gate in no time. Because Japan is an island, they are cautious, just like in Australia. There is a sign with pictures of all kinds of prohibited products. You are not allowed to bring vegetables, for example. I show them that I have an onion with me, but no, that is not allowed, so it is confiscated. The bags are not checked. However, our bicycle tyres are disinfected. A man is sitting on a small stool. The tyres are placed one by one on a metal frame with two bearings, allowing the man to turn the wheel and spray it with a disinfectant using a plant sprayer. I always remove the mirrors when transporting the bikes to prevent them from breaking. After customs, I screw the mirrors back on. But once outside, I can remove them again. In Japan, they drive on the left. With Wen, it's not a problem, but my handlebar is damaged on the right hand side, so I can't slide the mirror into the handlebar. Three days later, I borrow a round iron file from a car repair shop and now I also have the mirror on the right. Our hotel is close to the harbour. We arrive far too early. We put our bikes in a kind of storage room, where there are racks with laundry and a heating system. We walk a short distance and cross a busy road. Immediately afterwards, a man comes running towards us. Panting, he tells us that it is far too dangerous to cross the road because Japanese cars do not take pedestrians into account; we must use the zebra crossing with traffic lights. We thank the man for his well-intentioned advice. In the last seven countries, no one had any problem with us crossing on a red light that posed no danger. But in the days that follow, the Japanese regularly point out that we are not allowed to cycle through red lights. With disapproving looks and raised index fingers, we are kept in line. So we adapt and wait unnecessarily long far too often. And that is tiring in cities where they are located every 200 metres. The eSIM card that we can order through Trip is much cheaper than the one in the electronics shop. Wen installs a card on the shop's Wi-Fi network. Then we cycle to a large shopping mall to see if they sell knives as well as chopsticks, because they were taken from us on the ferry, safety regulations. There are no bicycles to be seen on the large square in front of the mall. I ask two people who are working where we can park our bicycles. They point at a small building. We go down a shallow staircase, the bicycle on the ramp. The space is a bicycle parking facility. There is an entrance gate. A man sitting in a booth behind glass comes up to us and presses a button. We receive a ticket and can walk through the gate. The bicycles must be placed in U-shaped supports. What is special is that these supports can slide back and forth on a kind of rail. This allows many bicycles to be pushed close together. When we pick up the bicycles later that day, we insert the ticket into a reader, as we have seen others do, so that we can exit through the access gate. However, our ticket does not work. A moment later, it becomes clear to us that we must first pay at the payment machine. Now the gate opens. As we walk up the stairs, there is a 15-centimetre-wide conveyor belt that the bicycle can be placed on. The bicycle is detected, the belt starts moving, and if you squeeze the brakes, you can walk behind the bicycle. In the shopping mall, we feel as if we are in the future. There is so much to buy, ten floors high, one floor below ground and parking underneath. Everything is beautifully and spaciously displayed, clothings made from beautiful and unusual fabrics and textures. It feels very modern. Miraculously, we find our Victorinox knives. Okay, for € 10 each instead of € 3.50 at Biesma. We go to eat ramen in the basement, where there is a large collection of cosily decorated restaurants. The taste is superb; it's incredible how much depth they manage to get into a broth. There is also an entire floor dedicated to sweets, in all kinds of varieties and beautifully packaged. Wen is absolutely thrilled. Our eyes are opened.

Tuesday, October 14th, Fukuoka

Tap water is drinkable and toilet paper can be flushed down the toilet. For the first time in seven months. We wanted to stay another night, but the hotel was fully booked. We take it easy and leave at 11 a.m. First, we drive past the Tochoji temple. Mantras are recited and drums are beaten. The interior of the temple is beautiful, sparsely lit with many gold-coloured elements. The temples are slightly more refined than in South Korea (where more than half of the people are non-believers). The Chinese characters are beautiful, the Korean ones are more austere and the Japanese ones are more refined. We thought we could distinguish the difference in facial features between the three countries, but that is not so easy. The only thing we can describe is that the Japanese have slightly more refined features, especially the nose. Next to the temple is a building with a giant wooden Buddha. There is an entrance underneath the altar where the Buddha stands. A narrow corridor runs underneath it. On one side of the wall are paintings of a burning hell. Then the corridor winds a few times to the left and right and you find yourself in complete darkness. I run my hands along the wall to determine the layout of the corridor. When it gets light, there are paintings of heaven hanging on the walls. Wen buys a lucky charm for her bicycle. We cycle on. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there are strong, cold gusts of wind. Not much later, it starts to pour with rain. We are sitting just under the canopy of a car park at a small company that does something with steel cables. Here we can eat our lunch during the downpour. After a while, the man from the building comes over to us and shows interest. I have to walk with him. Around the corner is a red Coca-Cola vending machine. He puts 100 yen (60 pence) in it and I get two cans of cold cola. These machines are located every 500 metres. The rain has stopped, so we continue. But we see black clouds hanging over the sea. Not much later, it starts raining again. Wen suggests that we stop for today. There is a small park across the road. I go and search for a suitable spot for the tent, secluded behind a few low trees. A public toilet and a 7Eleven around the corner. When it gets dry, we pitch our tent on the edge of the busy city of Fukuoka. Unlike all the other countries we've visited so far, there are no curious people or giggling children coming to our tent. In Japan, you are left in peace.