So I had these fantasies that I would go native in Africa. Learn to speak Swahili, have a little concrete hut for a house, live out my days with a kerosene stove, a mosquito net, and some Safari beer in this exhilarating, dark, beautiful place.
And then I got to Japan.
You know what I like? 400 thread count sheets. Also drinking water from the tap. Also not being asked to lend someone $50,000 for a land rover every time I got out with them for a beer. Also, being able to drink something other than beer.
Japan is adorable - I've not yet seen the love hotels and creepy porn, and as it is snowing out and I'm just about adventure-ed out, I may not. Who cares? As long as I can get a massage in my room, I am feeling good about life.
I'm not proud. But at least I'm honest.