I miss Japan, which is not news to anyone who reads this blog. But when I could smell Japan on the potato gems I ordered from Leonard’s House of Love, the local pub in my neighbourhood, I realized that my body ━ my olfactory memory ━ miss Japan too. So much so that it has started tracing the smell of Japan, my Japan, all the way from here. 8,191.28 km away.
I catch the smell of Japan from the freshly made coffee Fafa put on my bedside table. From the tempura soba, we drive 15mins to have during lunch hour. From the bubble tea face mask I slather myself with every Thursday night. From the matcha powder, I resort to drink when I still need a mid-afternoon boost after two cups of coffee. From Fafa’s Forest perfume and his SKII products that I occasionally use without asking his permission first.
Logically I know it’s best to curb this obsession before it gets more out of hand, but all I want to do is bring more Japan into my life until I can travel some eight thousands kilometre away to be reunited with it.