Victoria Falls

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Pretty amazing. With the “rain” coming from the rushing water misting up over us, plus the sun in the sky, we kept seeing rainbows all over the falls.
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On a tiny plane from Gaborone to Kasane.

Okay, I did it. I went to Victoria Falls. It was a pretty touristy weekend, but so worth it – the falls are beautiful. I went with 3 other women, and we did it all in 48 hours: flew to Kasane, the north-easternmost town in Botswana where we stayed for 2 nights; saw animals in the national park from the water; day-tripped to the Zimbabwean side of Victoria Falls; and flew back home to Gaborone the next day. I think it was the best way to do the trip, at least from the Botswana side. If I ever go again, I’ll definitely want to see the Zambia side of the falls (Vic Falls is a bit like Niagara in that it can be viewed from one of two countries).

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My first time seeing a hippo in the wild! And that’s the Botswana flag in the background.
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Elephants on the water. Chobe must be the greenest area in Botswana.

Kasane is essentially a tourist town, a name for where all the lodges line up along the Chobe River. The Chobe National Park, known for its wildlife, is one of the main tourist destinations in Botswana – Gaborone certainly isn’t (very few travelers hang around Gabs, as I have, but of course I’m not really a tourist). It’s very close to the borders of Namibia, Zimbabwe, and Zambia.

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Sunset on the Chobe River.

To get to the falls on Saturday morning, we took a van organized by the lodge with other travelers. First, we passed through the Botswana border patrol and got departure stamps in our passports. Next, we arrived at the Zimbabwe border patrol, where we had to get full-page visas to enter the country for the day (it’s actually really cool-looking!). This was quite the experience. We were told to leave our passports at the counter in this tiny office and walk away from them – never a good feeling – and leave our driver/guide to pick them up and bring them back to the van. After 20 minutes or so, we got them back…all except one. One German girl from our van didn’t get her passport back right away. Somehow it had ended up with a Korean man in a van ahead of us, and it took a long time to sort that out! A lot of tourists were coming through that border post.

My group was curious about the Zambia side of the falls. We saw a poster for a one-day Zambia-Zimbabwe visa and asked our guide about it. “Can we go to Zambia today too? We heard the falls are beautiful from that side.” “No, just Zimbabwe.” “But look at this poster!” “Well, we don’t bring people to Zambia.” “Why not?” “There won’t be time.” (It was clear by this point that our guide had a plan he wanted to stick to, and we should not try to deviate from that plan. I would have loved to do the day trip without a guide if possible, but this was the way to do it). “But we have all day – can’t we just pop over there?” “Uh…they won’t let you.” “Why not?” “You can’t re-enter Zimbabwe from the Zambia side if you don’t have proof that you’ve gotten the yellow fever vaccine.” Well, from my travels in South Africa, I did have the yellow fever vaccine, and I even had my yellow card with me to prove it because I keep it with my passport. So of course I took it out. “Well, I actually have that right here!” He gave me a look that clearly said “No.” I eventually walked out to the van and waited for my passport.

As it turned out, we did go into Zambia, but only for a few minutes and very unofficially (no passport stamp). When you get to the falls in Zimbabwe, there are two parts: the main part where you enter the Vic Falls park and walk along the falls on the Zimbabwe side, seeing them from many different viewpoints, and then a short distance away, a big bridge for the activities (bungee jumping, zip-lining, and so on). The bridge is beautiful, and it actually does go from Zimbabwe to Zambia, though for the activities you only spend a few minutes on that side. Two of the girls I was with wanted to go bungee jumping, so we went to the bridge first before officially seeing the falls. We heard the falls in the background and saw part of them from a distance, which built up our anticipation of the falls.

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The bridge from the Zimbabwe side. Someone is bungee jumping off it in this photo!

Bungee jumping looked a bit too scary for me, as well as way out of my budget, but I did go zip-lining with the other person in my group! It was probably the most extravagant thing I’ve done on the Watson so far, but it was a blast. And now I can say that I zip-lined from Zambia to Zimbabwe – so that seems pretty worth it.

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“Beware – Hazardous Drop Ahead.” You can’t tell from the photo, but we’re both freaking out at this moment!
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I realize this photo is super corny but I was having a blast. The view was beautiful.

Finally, after our short stint in Zambia, all our activities, and lunch, we went to the Victoria Falls UNESCO World Heritage Site in Zimbabwe. We entered the gate and saw two paths, one to the right and one to the left. Someone told us that they started from the left but that both paths lead to the falls. We took the right.

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We followed the tree-lined path for a while and eventually stumbled upon the falls, mysteriously shrouded in white mist. It was cold and damp, and the mist rose forcefully up from the falls and rained back down right on top of us. It was a sunny day, so we saw a lot of rainbows. As we moved further along the path, we got closer to the falls – and we got soaked! The water was rushing quickly and loudly and caused enough rain to drench us in minutes. It’s a wonder we were still able to take photos with our cameras and phones without damaging them.

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One of the Victoria Falls viewpoints on the mistier side: Horseshoe Falls, not too far from Rainbow Falls (the fog was too heavy for me to get a picture of that sign!).

At one point the fog lifted a bit, and we began to grasp the immensity of the falls. We couldn’t even see the bottom of the gorge where the water was falling. As the only four people standing at the edge of the falls, we were cold and dripping and giddy with excitement.

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Completely drenched at Rainbow Falls!
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Beginning to see more of the falls…

We then doubled back on the path to go towards the other end of the falls. At each viewpoint, the falls looked more and more beautiful. We realized we went through the whole thing backwards – if we had taken that left at the start, we would have begun with the traditional (and dry) view of the falls, and then ended at the misty Rainbow Falls viewpoint, where we started. But I’m so happy we did it in reverse. We got to see the mystery of Victoria Falls slowly unfold in front of us, beginning with our first glimpse from far away on the Zimbabwe-Zambia bridge. We got to discover Vic Falls bit by bit throughout the day until the full beauty of it was finally in front of us. If we had started with the classic, full view, we wouldn’t have had that slow, exciting build-up – and we wouldn’t have been so happy about getting soaked by the falls at the end when we couldn’t even really see them.

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The largest falls in the world in terms of water flow!

All in all, it was a really great trip, and I’m so happy I got to go. I want to see the rest of the natural world wonders now! I was also really content to return “home” to Gaborone. I was talking about the definition of “home” with my friends after we got back. How long do you have to stay somewhere before you can say that you lived there? What does it mean to have a home? One idea was that you live somewhere if you would give a friend that address so that they can write you a letter. Another idea was that when you buy groceries and cook for yourself in a place, you’re living there. The amount of time you spend somewhere definitely matters, but so does your relationship to that space.

I realized that my idea of home is a place that I leave and come back to. The weirdest aspect of traveling on the Watson is the way that it’s sustained; you hop from one strange place to another without ever going back to your true “home.” Most people travel in distinct trips, from home and then back. When I went from Stockholm to Doha and then onto Mumbai, I didn’t feel like I lived in Stockholm. I never called Doha “home.” But then I used Mumbai as a base while in India – I traveled out to other cities and states in the country but usually returned to Mumbai in between. By the end of my time in India, Mumbai felt like home. I could leave stuff there and return to it, just like a regular trip-taker; I created the illusion for myself that I wasn’t living the sustained nomadic lifestyle of the Watson, where you take everything with you every time you move. I’m not sure if any of that makes sense. But the point is that, on Sunday when I was flying back into Gaborone from Kasane, I felt like I was coming home.

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Probably my favorite view of the falls, right at the end.

Last month

I arrived in Sweden on July 19th, 2016, which means that yesterday – June 19th, 2017 – I began my very last month of the Watson year. At the beginning of the year, I noticed the 19th of each passing month, these milestones that seemed enormous at the time: 1 month in! Two months in! Somewhere along the way, I stopped counting like that. Then yesterday, it hit me again: the 19th. One month left.

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My favorite building in Gaborone: the Parliament.
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A statue of Sir Seretse Khama, the first president of Botswana.
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The winter sky of Botswana is so beautiful and clear.

My first month on the Watson was long and difficult. After the first week, I thought to myself that this would be the longest year of my life. I had a large, unmeasurable swath of unknown ahead of me, which was scary and exciting and overwhelming. I wondered if I would ever feel like I was on my way home. Within the first month, I stayed alone in an apartment without wifi after four years of the intensely social college experience; I felt myself undergoing various changes as I learned how to be alone and love it; I lived in two different Swedish cities; I lost two of my grandparents, and heard the news over Skype; and I began my project, meeting with strangers kind enough to give me some insight into their medical device work.

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On the campus of the University of Botswana.
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A sign on the university campus.
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Have you ever seen a wild monkey eat a homemade bagel? This monkey grabbed a bagel in a matter of seconds and scurried up the tree to enjoy his new and unusual treat.

Once I hit the one month mark, 1/12 of the way through the Watson, I felt like I had hardly made a dent in the year despite having already experienced so much. Now, at 11/12 of the way through, having one month left feels like nothing. It’s hard knowing that so much of the adventure is done, that the vast unknown has become something very known, measurable by photo albums and ticket stubs and friends left behind; but also thrilling knowing that this seemingly insurmountable year has been easier and far less lonely than I expected.

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Street-side stalls in Botswana sell hard candies, sausages, and the local “fat cakes,” dense doughy bread rolls.
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A pedestrian bridge in Gaborone, at the city’s main train station.

It’s weird how your perception of time changes so easily – how a month can go from being so long to being so short. Time flies by faster the older you get, and somehow the Watson has magnified that phenomenon.

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The white tiered building down the road is the Ministry of Health, where I sat in on a meeting to discuss funding for the national rollout of an mHealth project.

The distance between NYC and Singapore is nearly 10,000 miles. That’s the farthest away from home I’ve been this year. But Tennessee Williams said that “time is the longest distance between two places,” and that feels far more accurate to me. I just want to make sure I make the most of the time I have left, but I’m not too worried about it – I think Botswana is a lovely place to be for the next month.

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World War II memorial.
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More Gaborone street scenes.

Botswana: First impressions

The Batswana – the people of Botswana – refer to the country as “Bots,” and I love that. Gaborone is pronounced Ha-borone-y, but this city has a nickname too: Gabs. I’ve already been here for ten days, and I can’t believe it. Time flies by faster as the Watson goes on, I’m sure.

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I flew from Tokyo to Doha (back to Qatar!), then from Doha to Johannesburg, and finally from Johannesburg to Gaborone on this little plane.

Botswana is a huge change from Japan. The population here is about 2 million people; 10% of them, 200,000, live in Gabs. Japan has 127 million people with 13 million living in Tokyo alone. I knew that Gabs wouldn’t be nearly as urban or pedestrian-friendly as Tokyo, nor as safe. I even read a mildly alarming email from the US Government suggesting that visitors avoid walking around solo at all.

Luckily that email was over-cautionary (though I still won’t be walking around in the nighttime), and after a couple days in Botswana, I started to feel at home. The transition from Japan was quicker and easier than I expected. I don’t know if that’s because I’m used to transitions now, and better at adapting quickly to new and foreign places, or because the people here are so friendly and easy to talk to in English – probably both!

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Botswana is quite sparsely populated.

The surrealism of the Watson is often lost on me these days, though I frequently marveled at the lovely strangeness of it all in my first few months. It’s become an odd routine – of traveling, landing someplace new, figuring out how to get a local number, taking a couple days to figure things out and feel safe – that I’ve learned to repeat in each new country or even city. Each new destination gets easier to manage, and each unexpected interaction or step along the way seems less like a snag. That in itself is exciting and surreal, though, knowing that I now feel comfortable walking into pretty much any situation and making it feel like home.

Of course, this is the end of the proverbial road, and I won’t be traveling to another new country after Botswana. But that’s not to say the U.S. will feel exactly like the place I left, and maybe this new-country-routine is something I can apply, on a much smaller scale, to my return back home and whatever “reverse culture shock” awaits me there.

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Cracking up in this teacup at an empty amusement park here called “Lion Park.”

Speaking of home, I just extended my stay at an Airbnb here by an additional 7 weeks – the remainder of my time in Botswana. Though I might travel out of Gaborone over the next couple months (in fact, I just did yesterday), it’s always nice to have a home base. I can leave for a night or a few and come back while leaving some of my stuff in a place that I know is safe.

Anyway, this is a big milestone for me because it means that I’ve figured out a place to stay for every single night of the Watson year. Just before I left for Sweden, I only had a few weeks of housing figured out, and it scared me. I had to set up all my own accommodation for 365 distinct nights, and I didn’t know where I was going to be – and at the same time, my friends were moving into apartments with yearlong leases. I knew that I would be okay figuring things out day-to-day on the Watson year once I got over the hurdle of where to stay night-to-night. Now that I’ve booked these last 7 weeks, that’s it. I’ve done it – I found a safe place to stay every night of the Watson and stayed in budget while doing so. I’m tempted to say that it was easier than I expected, but maybe that’s just in hindsight.

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The Central Business District of Gaborone. It’s really mostly buildings under construction.

Finally, the stars here are just beautiful – Gaborone must have the least light pollution of any city or town I’ve been in this year. (If I could capture them on my camera, I would certainly post a photo). I keep getting distracted by them at night. I don’t think most of the Batswana notice.

The 10 Shrines of Tokyo (A goodbye to Japan)

A friend of mine in Japan told me about the Tokyo Jissha, the ten shrines of Tokyo, a couple weeks before I left. In 1868, at the time of the Meiji Restoration when Tokyo became Japan’s capital, Emperor Meiji chose ten Shinto shrines scattered throughout the city to be the sanctuaries for the new capital. Every shrine and temple has a unique stamp (goshuin) that can be written in a special stamp book (a goshuin-cho), and my friend had decided collect the stamps of the Tokyo Jissha in her goshuin-cho. I decided to get a book of my own, and traveling to these 10 shrines during my last days in Japan to collect goshuin felt like a pilgrimage to say goodbye.

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goshuin stamp I got at this golden temple in Nikko, a town close to Tokyo.

Just because I keep leaving doesn’t mean that it gets easier to let go. I left Japan a few days ago and I’m still wrapping it up, cleaning it away. I feel like I have to do this spring cleaning every time I leave – change my number, close the tabs of “medtech companies in Japan,” tell my friends I arrived safely, and then drift out of regular contact with them. Is it easier to leave, or to stay? I’ve become someone who leaves and I don’t know how I feel about that.

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“The 10 Jinga of Tokyo.” This was at Hikawa Jinga, the first shrine I visited out of the 10 and where I got my goshuin-cho book).
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Hie Shrine.
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Up the stairs of Hie Shrine.

The thing is, as much as I live in these places and learn to love them and get to know their people, I don’t really belong. I’ve become increasingly aware of the fact that no matter how long I spend abroad, I won’t become Indian or Japanese or Singaporean. I need to take all that I’ve done this year and bring it back with me to places I do belong. I want to know what my project would be like in the US – what impact I could have on medical technology there, where I can invest the time.

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This is my goshuin-cho. Each stamp in the book is unique – it has the name of the shrine and the current date. It takes a few minutes to get a stamp because you have to wait for the shrine attendant to paint it in.
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A bridge in Nikko.
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Kanda Shrine, probably the most popular shrine of the ten.

But I’ve gotten used to leaving everything behind every few months, and I wonder how that will manifest when I’m back home and trying to build something more permanent. Perhaps I’ll find that it’s easier to keep seeing new things, rather than to try finding new aspects of old things.

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The Kameido Jinja is very serene, and the Tokyo Skytree building is visible in the back.
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My favorite of the ten was the Nezu Shrine, with all these torii gates.

I was worried that my fleeting presence in various places this year would make people feel distant, but it hasn’t. Especially in Japan, where I was worried about the formality of the polite language, I learned that so much warmth can be imbued between the words of formal speech. It’s still hard to know, without speaking the language, if you’re doing things right or just the recipient of excessive politeness, but I’ve gotten closer to people than I expected to.

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I also traveled to Kamakura, a town very close to Tokyo, right before leaving. This is the country’s second-largest Buddha.
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The Buddha is hollow, and it’s cool to go inside and see how the different pieces were fused together.

Still, I’m getting tired of saying goodbye. I’ve arrived in Botswana now – my last project country – and that feels right. I’m used to leaving places, but I don’t want to be; it’s actually comforting to know that this cycle of coming and going, goodbyes every few months, is ending soon. I’m excited to spend two months here and explore one more new place. Also, on a lighter note, it’s lovely to be in a country with fluent English speakers!

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At the entrance to the big Buddha temple: “Stranger whosoever thou art and whatsoever be thy creed, when thou enterest this sanctuary remember thou treadest upon ground hallowed by the worship of ages.”

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A few days before I left, I finally found the prototypical Japanese garden scene in Kamakura. I really had a wonderful time in Japan and learned a lot about the culture there, and I’m also happy to keep moving forward.

Great sadness and great beauty

I spent last weekend in Fukuoka, a small city in the southwest of Japan. While I was there, I did a big day trip to Hiroshima and Miyajima, two relatively nearby destinations via the shinkansen bullet train. I didn’t think I would be able to go to Hiroshima while in Japan, but as the end of my time here got closer, the more ridiculous it seemed that I would miss it – I think its importance demands making the effort to go there. As I planned the day, reading online about day trips to Hiroshima, I decided it would be possible to spend the morning in the city and then take a ferry in the afternoon to the nearby island of Miyajima – the site of the Itsukushima shrine and famous floating torii. It was a packed day, but I am so glad I did it.

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The Atomic Bomb Dome building with a plaque depicting the hall as it was before the bombing.
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On the way to the Peace Memorial Park.

After arriving in Hiroshima, I went straight to the Peace Memorial Park, which is exactly where the atomic bomb was dropped – in the center of the city – on August 6th, 1945. The Peace Memorial Park has the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum on one end and the Atomic Bomb Dome on the other. I started at the Atomic Bomb Dome, the only ruin left from the war. The bomb exploded almost directly over this structure, which actually minimized its impact – as you can see, the frame of what was a dome in the center of the building was left standing. The building is preserved exactly as it was after the bomb hit. But as for the rest of the city’s buildings, Hiroshima is completely rebuilt and thriving with no evidence of the bomb.

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The Atomic Bomb Dome.
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The Flame of Peace, burning since its completion in August 1964. The flame’s large stone pedestal is supposed to be “an abstract rendering of two hands opening upward.” Beyond the flame, the long rectangular building is the museum.

On my way to the museum from the Dome, I saw this flame. My mom, who has been to Hiroshima before, told me to “look out for the eternal flame.” As I spotted it and walked towards it, my eyes teared up at the idea of a flame that’s been burning since it was placed there to honor the victims of Hiroshima. How much work to keep the flame burning for so long! As I read the plaque, I realized that the idea of the flame wasn’t exactly to be eternal. It reads: “Symbolizing the universal desire for a world free from nuclear weapons, the flame will burn until the day when all such weapons shall have disappeared from the earth.” A beautiful sentiment. Thus the idea of it being eternal – burning forever because we will never rid this planet of nuclear weapons – is all the more depressing.

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The red ball hovering directly over the center of Hiroshima represents the fireball created by the bomb immediately after it detonated. As you can see here, most of the city has already been reduced to rubble at this point.

I arrived at museum, which was already packed with tourists at 9am, and I spent 2 long hours there reading every detail. It was difficult and depressing, but its focus was peace. The museum was all about the horrors of the bomb itself, sadness about war and destruction, and the desire to rid the world of nuclear weapons. There was very little anger against America or the other countries involved in the war.

The Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum taught me details of the war that made it even more depressing than I had realized. (Stop reading here if you don’t want to delve into these tragedies with me – but do keep scrolling for the photos). The first detail that struck me was about the demolition crews. These were groups of people who worked to safely demolish various buildings in Hiroshima’s more concentrated areas in order to minimize the effects of fires that might result from air raids during the war. That is, if there were fewer buildings all stacked up against each other, one catching fire from an air raid would not cause so much damage to the rest of them. I’d never heard of this tactic, but that’s what they were doing in Hiroshima. Most of these crews included young schoolchildren; innocent civilians as young as 8 years old. Maybe they lived far from the center of the city or came from surrounding neighborhoods, but they came to work in the center of the city where the buildings were densely packed. That means that when the bomb exploded that Monday morning, there were far more young children in the center of the city – right where the bomb hit – than there should have been. That was heartbreaking.

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Because dark colors absorb more heat than lighter colors, the heat from the bomb burned out dark fabric (including any black pattern in the clothing people were wearing that day) while leaving the lighter fabric.

The museum displayed many pieces of clothing of the children who died as a result of the bomb while working in those demolition crews. Their parents had to search for them, and they were lucky if they found any clothes or belongings (bodies were far rarer). I find it much sadder that parents had to look for their children rather than the other way around, though of course both are horrible. With each item or clothing scrap, the museum included as much detail (including a name) about the previous owner as possible to give you a full picture of the people that died in the bombing. This went on and on. But in one glass box, the museum had put clothing from 3 different children onto one mannequin. It was as though all these individual scraps of things and clothing, all with unique identities attached to them, had fused into one image: the child who died because of the bomb.

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This tricycle belonged to a 3-year-old and was buried along with him by his father. Forty years later, the father dug up the tricycle and helmet to donate them to the museum.

Another fact I learned was that there were American prisoners of war in Hiroshima when we dropped the bomb. I can’t imagine there were that many, but it still surprised me. I never knew that. Also, there was a replica of the bomb in the museum. It was called “Little Boy” due to its fairly small, lanky shape. It was smaller than I imagined compared to the amount of damage it was able to inflict – 10 feet long. Of course, it only takes a tiny bit of uranium to cause mass destruction, but it was still unnerving to see a full-sized replica of the bomb, just sitting there like something harmless.

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Lastly, it was stunning to realize just how much damage the bomb had done, and in which various indirect ways. Of course, I knew that the force of the bomb itself leveled the city and that the resulting radiation affected people for many years later. But there were other things, too. For example, the intense heat of the bomb burned people to death. Some people who weren’t killed by the bomb’s force, or heat, or radiation, were injured instead by glass – the bomb exploded so many glass objects and surfaces that it sent shards flying all over, into buildings and people’s clothes and into the people themselves. Some survivors had pieces of glass surgically removed from their bodies 20, 30, and even 40 years after the bomb. There were so many ways that the bomb hurt people.

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The center of the Peace Memorial Museum is lined up perfectly with the Cenotaph for A-Bomb Victims (the arch), the Peace Flame, and the Atomic Bomb Dome at the end of the park.

One way that was particularly depressing was that some of the people who died as a result of the bomb were those who came to the city the next day as rescue. No one in Hiroshima was capable of leading or organizing a rescue effort, so any help had to come from outside the city, and it did. But the radiation levels were still so high the day after the bomb exploded that many of the people that came to help suffered as a result.

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A close-up of the cenotaph. The small chest under the arch contains all the names of the known victims.

Okay – that is all I will say about the Peace Memorial Museum and the bombing. That museum is now a small part of the big, lively, healthy city that Hiroshima is known for today. After I left the museum, I had Hiroshima’s local specialty for lunch (a type of okonomi-yaki made with noodles) and visited a beautiful garden – though of course what I saw at the museum stayed with me.

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Itsukushima shrine and its torii from the ferry.

On the island of Miyajima that afternoon, I saw just as much beauty as the sadness I had seen in Hiroshima. The famous “floating torii” is the torii gate of the island’s Itsukushima shrine. Built on a beach, it stands in the sand at low tide, and it appears to “float” on the water in high tide, when the water submerges its base. Of course, all the pictures I had seen of the torii were taken at high tide in perfect lighting, so it looked magical. When I was on the ferry approaching the island, not only was it evident that the tide was low, but also the torii looked tiny from the boat! I prepared myself to be disappointed by a small, non-floating sight.

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Walking through the shrine, I was still mesmerized by the torii even though it wasn’t at all “floating.”
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These little hanging lanterns were very cool.

Luckily there is more to do on Miyajima island than see this torii, and first I explored the rest of Itsukushima shrine. It was enormous and beautiful, and I couldn’t get enough of the bright red vermillion structure, all built on stilts over the sand. On the rest of the island, there are hikes to do, Buddhist temples to visit, village shops to see, and a surprising amount of deer to avoid.

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With the water at low tide, I walked right up to the base of the torii like the people in the background here. It loomed above me once I was close.
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Many of the shrine’s ema (wish tablets) depicted the floating torii, of course.
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The looming torii up close! Despite looking small from the ferry, it definitely felt big here.

I spent about three hours on the island, and as the day inched closer to sunset, the tide started coming in. The island’s visitors that day started to gather at a stone wall facing the torii, many of them sitting in silence sipping beers. I quietly joined them, and as we watched the sun disappear into the clouds behind the torii, the water level rose enough to truly make the torii appear to float. I have to say that it was one of the most magical moments I’ve experienced so far on the Watson, and the sight was extraordinary.

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I’m thrilled that I was able to see the torii at both tides – I had the opportunity to walk up to it and touch it, and I also got to see it “float.” And that was really something.

Getting my alone time in Osaka

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A bridge at the Sumiyoshi-taisha Shinto Shrine.

I arrived in Osaka on Easter Sunday, though of course no one celebrates it here. Wandering around Osaka that evening was my first time really being alone in Japan, and I wasn’t used to that, so it felt a bit odd and lonely. But soon I relaxed into the feeling, and enjoyed it. I remembered how it felt when I arrived in Sweden by myself so many months ago, or when I was off on my own in Kerala.

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I’ve talked about Osaka once before, when I traveled here for just a few hours with my friends on a day trip from Kyoto. It’s Japan’s second-largest city, and fairly dirtier and funkier compared to Tokyo.
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Osaka street art.

I was reminded that the only thing that connects all these random places, besides my project, is myself. I like being off on my own, and in those moments, sometimes I think I could quietly disappear into the Watson. I don’t know how else to describe that feeling, except maybe that’s my way of keeping this going forever.

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It was when I saw this scene that I first thought of Sweden.
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More from Sumiyoshi-taisha Shrine.

I’ve been listening to the podcast S-Town as I travel around (it’s currently #1 on iTunes and I highly recommend it!). The podcast centers around the life of an “antiquarian horologist,” a restorer of antique clocks, and, appropriately, one of the podcast’s themes is time. The profession of antiquarian horology, as I’ve learned from S-Town, is dying because time is so accessible now on smartphones and watches.

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Osaka’s “Tsūtenkaku” tower.
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It was raining when I visited Osaka Castle on my sightseeing day (my other days in Osaka were filled with project meetings). See the castle in the background?

It got me thinking – what does that say about the relationship between humans and time? Now that it is so easy to check, at any moment, what the exact time is down to the nanosecond, do we relate to time differently then we did before? Does this hyper-awareness of the passage of time at all affect the way we approach life? I realize these are ridiculous exaggerated questions, certainly the product of traveling solo and having too much time to think (heh). But what I’m saying is that what’s important here (to me, anyway) is not the measurement of time itself but the way people relate to it.

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This is the Osaka I saw when I was there the first time – neon lights in the Namba / Dotonbori district!
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Dotonbori again.

I don’t think it’s enough just to talk about medical devices, or embedded systems, or the topics of space and time; what’s interesting is how do people relate to these things, and why, and how can we make them in a way so that people have the most positive reaction? How is a medical device interesting if you’re not thinking about how people will use it and how it will impact their health? None of these things matter without that framing (and of course none of it would exist without the people to make it; even time would be a moot point without people to experience it, frame it, and measure it). I’m sure this all sounds obvious – my project has been about the “human response to medical technology” since I designed it over a year ago – but it’s still fun to think about, especially extending that thinking to other disciplines.

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One of Osaka’s specialty regional foods is takoyaki, grilled balls of battered octopus (this octopus is holding one in its tentacle).
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A street vendor making takoyaki.

Anyway, that’s all, and if you celebrate Easter, I hope you had a lovely weekend!

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Hōzen-ji Buddhist Temple, Osaka.

Okinawa

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I don’t think I’ve ever seen quite so many shades of blue in such a concentrated area of ocean – the water in Okinawa was beautiful.

Okinawa, Japan’s southernmost prefecture, has always been at the top of my Watson to-do list. Comprised of one main island and many smaller islands, it’s considered one of the healthiest places in the world – even healthier than the rest of Japan. It’s called a “Blue Zone” for being one of six regions in the world where people have extra-high life expectancies (https://www.bluezones.com/2016/11/power-9/). Japan’s overall life expectancy is 80/87 male/female, already quite high, but in Okinawa those numbers reportedly stretch to 84/90. Of course, I’ve been curious for months to go there and see what, if anything, makes it feel remarkably healthy.

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With my host family, I spent 3 nights on the main island and 3 nights on a smaller island, Ishigaki. This is the lush greenery of Ishigaki, which I found to be incredibly stunning.

Also, as an American, I felt that it was important to go to Okinawa due to its complicated history with the US. For the 27 years following the end of World War II, Okinawa was under the occupation and rule of the US Military Government. Even though the US “returned” Okinawa to Japan in 1972, there are still many bases in the prefecture and thousands of US military personnel stationed there. When our plane landed in Naha, Okinawa’s capital, this became an immediate reality – though the little oval window, I saw military aircraft using the same airport as the commercial planes like ours.

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The water was many beautiful shades of blue but also incredibly clear.

So, when my host mom suggested a trip to Okinawa in the spring, of course I said yes! She said that she likes to go there for vacation. It was reassuring that Okinawa was her choice of destination – it confirmed the idea that this place is considered a rejuvenating, or even particularly healthy, area in Japan. I was thrilled to be able to tag along with my host family on their vacation to a spot I had learned about because of my project – and hopefully see it through that lens while I was there.

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As it turns out, I’m a bit taller than my host mom and her 9-year-old son! This is the Shurijo Castle, the historic site of Okinawa’s old kingdom. It was first built in the 15th century and has been rebuilt a few times since (most recently post-1945).
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Detail at Shurijo Castle.
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More from Shurijo Castle, which is on the main island.

Many people, when answering my question of what makes Japan so healthy, say that it’s the diet. Okinawan food is Japanese food with an even healthier spin. At meals, my host mom pointed out “no calorie” and “no sugar” foods every so often. The food in Okinawa is all about fresh vegetables and fruits from the area, as well as seaweed and particularly protein-heavy tofu. In Tokyo, the fruit is imported and crazy expensive; the colder climate leads to a heavier reliance on meat, fish, rice, and potatoes.

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The main attraction of Okinawa’s main island is the aquarium. 
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This octopus would instantly freckle all over if you got too close to the glass! Luckily he wasn’t angry when I took this picture.

My host mom described Okinawa as “practically a different country from Japan,” and it’s easy to see why – Okinawa is geographically distant from the rest of Japan and has also been politically separate from the country for most of its history. There’s even an Okinawan language (in addition to, and different from, the “Okinawan Japanese” dialect spoken in the prefecture).

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My host family and I took this driverless golf cart up to a lookout tower. Talk about fun tech – though you can’t tell in the photo, the golf cart was definitely moving at this moment!
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I found Ishigaki to be far more beautiful than the more highway-heavy main island. Every corner of Ishigaki has green.
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We also went to a stalactite cave in Ishigaki. I had never been to one before, but I loved it! It took a full 30 minutes to walk through the section of the cave that was open to the public.
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Being in the caves felt super sci-fi, as though we were walking on the set of an alien spaceship.

In addition to the food, I’m sure that the relaxing lifestyle in Okinawa contributes to its health standard. In terms of what makes Japan unhealthy, I often hear people speak negatively about the work culture. Especially in Tokyo, people tend to work very long hours, and it seems like their main source of exercise is going up and down the metro stairs (which, to be fair, often involve multiple flights both ways). In Okinawa, and especially in Ishigaki, I saw none of that stressful urban work culture.

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A juice stand in Ishigaki. This lovely woman made us fresh juices from lime, pineapple, and sugarcane. (“No added sugar!” my host mom pointed out). 
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Something that’s come up a few times since I arrived in Japan is that the Japanese people are apparently risk-averse. I don’t know if that’s true in every sense, but I have never seen a playground map with 30 different explanatory labels on it! (I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a playground map, period).

Okinawa seemed to have a lot in common with Hawaii, being the geographically distant island paradise state of its country (of course, there’s also the WWII connection). But Okinawa is supposed to be the epitome of health, whereas I never thought of Hawaii as being so healthy. I decided to check out where Hawaii falls on a list of all 50 states ranked by health. To my surprise, Hawaii wasn’t only in the top ten, but it was ranked #1! It’s held that ranking for the past 5 consecutive years, apparently the healthiest state in the US due to a number of different factors (with MA and CT following as 2nd and 3rd in 2016; from America’s Health Rankings 2016 report). So maybe there is something to island life in the Pacific. Certainly this longevity is not due to medical technology.

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My favorite photo from the trip. This is at the lookout by Ishigaki’s northernmost point.