The cruise that started with a typhoon

Just returned. My head is a mess of emotions, impressions, faces, and sights, and my legs are still swaying as if the deck won't let go. No strength left, but there's a strange liveliness inside. It feels like surviving a storm, wiping your face, and realizing it was worth it.

Funny, but every trip of ours starts not with suitcases, but with some random "let's just see...". And that's it. From this "let's see" grows a whole scenario with nerves, chats, maps, tables, and endless "what ifs." That's how it happened this time too.

Japan used to be like another planet to me. My daughter was obsessed with it from childhood: dramas, kimonos, language, songs, the whole deal. I used to shake my head and think - it will pass. It didn't. Moreover, it drew me in too. We watched a couple of series together once - and off we went.
I realized they don't just have movies, but a whole philosophy: calm, precise, suggestive, without noise, but hitting right in the heart. And somewhere deep inside, I caught myself thinking - it would be interesting to see how it all looks in real life.

So, one evening, out of curiosity, I opened a cruise website. Clicked through the routes, not expecting much. And suddenly - Asia, all Asia! Japan, Korea, and Singapore in the end.
My heart skipped a beat, my hands itched. Started reading reviews, looking at the ship, cabins. After a couple of days, I realized resisting was pointless. Booked it. Then, of course, changed my mind and rebooked - classic move. Wanted it to be not just "a cabin with a window," but "humanly" - with a bath, a balcony, so you could sit in the evening, looking at the sea, pondering about eternity.

Then the preparation began. It's a separate kind of sport. Forums, schemes, tables. In Japan, it turns out, transport is not just complex - it's like designed to test your patience. Each metro has its master, each line its mood. It felt like preparing not for a vacation, but for a Mars landing operation.

Tickets were a fun quest too. Wanted to arrive unscathed, without overnight layovers, without ten-hour flights in a row. Checked everyone - from Qatar Airways to Chinese airlines. Prices danced like a street drummer, but luckily, found a decent route, not bankrupting and without tortures. When I got the confirmation, honestly, opened a bottle of wine. Celebrated the victory.

Everything was going according to plan until one day news came: the company started tightening the screws on boarding for Russians. That's when I sat down. We had everything planned, everything bought, and suddenly - "what if they don't let us in." First tried to come up with workarounds, then waved it off and started looking for a backup plan. Found another cruise, not as grandiose, but heartfelt. And, as it turned out later, it was the right decision. Sometimes fate just pushes you where you really need to be.

And then the weather started. That's where the nerves turned gray. A week before departure, a typhoon started swirling in the ocean, and of course, towards Japan. I checked forecasts every day, like someone checking bets. At first, it seemed to be passing by, then it turned. I lost sleep, even dreamt that we missed it, everything got canceled, suitcases flew off without us. Woke up sweating and checked the wind map again. Eventually, the storm veered off, but by that time, I aged a couple of years.

When we finally set off, I felt like before an exam. Dozed off on the train, thinking about the sea, the ship, the smell of salt, and that if there's one more surprise, I'm off to the taiga.
The flight itself surprisingly went smoothly. Delicious food, a gentle flight. In Beijing during the layover - silence, as if someone turned off the world. The airport felt like from a sci-fi movie: all clean, bright, and not a single scream. Compared to our train stations, it felt like stepping into a library.

My daughter and I went through security, took off our shoes, placed phones, chargers, trinkets in boxes. Everything polite, calm. Then we found ourselves in a hall with a garden, a fountain, and a huge heart made of "Love" in different languages. That's where I first breathed out. We stood there, silent, just watching.

And then - Japan. The real one. Not a single extra sound, not a drop of fuss. Everything works, everyone smiles, even the air seems to whisper "welcome." We stood by the window, looking at the distant mountain, which seemed to emerge from the clouds for a second, and I realized that all the nerves, worries, and sleepless nights were for this.

There will definitely be a continuation. But not today. Right now, I just want to sit in silence, pour myself something cold, and finally feel that all of this was real.
Tired for now. Will tell you more later.