Okay, confession time: I lied in my bio. Twice. I'm not actually 21 until next month, for one. I was just rounding up so I wouldn't have to change it later.

And I'm not actually "currently" studying in Japan. I leave a week from tomorrow. Again with the rounding up! But you can hardly blame me for being a little impatient; I've been waiting for this for a long time. (Japan, that is. Not that finally being able to go to Dave and Buster's unattended isn't exciting in its own right.)

This isn't the first time I've been to Japan. I traveled to Tokyo three years ago. It was a high school graduation present. It also should have been the worst vacation ever. Imagine going overseas with a feuding mother and daughter and a recently broken-up couple as your traveling companions. Then imagine them declaring that you'll all have to stay together at all times because, in the words of the aforementioned mother, you might be kidnapped and sold into a "white slavery ring." Add in some truly poor planning and about $500 in traveler's checks that no one would exchange, and it had all the makings of a truly painful trip.

It should have been, but it wasn't. 

On our fifth day of traveling, we took a "bullet train" from Tokyo to Kyoto for a day trip. I would have preferred to stay in the old capital longer, but my traveling companions insisted that we could get the Kyoto experience within a few hours.  When we got hopelessly turned around in the city, I learned that it was, in fact, possible to lose a five story pagoda.

After an embarrassingly public argument over whether 200 yen (about $2.00 at that point) was too much to spend on public transportation, I convinced everyone to get on a bus to Gion, the historic district. When we stepped off the bus, I was surprised at how empty the streets were; I had been expecting more tourists, at least. But our timing wasn't the best. The cherry blossoms were long gone, and the famous Gion Festival wouldn't be for another week.

We wandered into the first shrine we saw, and the grounds were even quieter and emptier. The only sign of life was the undisturbed line of shoes by the entrance. Here, I finally had a chance to wander off alone, and I climbed the hill in back to get a better view of the grounds:

When I came back down, I found the group again in the shrine's gift shop, asking the monk working there about the meaning of the omamori, or brightly colored charms with very specific purposes. He pointed to each one and explained its meaning - safety in travel, proficiency in exams, luck in love. Each of my friends snatched the red and orange love charm, giggling that they sorely needed it.

After they had wandered away, I approached him, and picking up the green and yellow charm, I asked him in halting Japanese, "I'm sorry, what did this one mean?"

He smiled at me, replying in English. "Your Japanese is very good." I knew he was flattering me, but I blushed anyway. "This is for happiness."

I smiled back, and held onto it. Happiness sounded like a good option.

"Do you like it here?" he continued.

"It's beautiful," I told him, examining the travel charm as well. "I wish I didn't have to leave so soon."

"Then you'll return here," he told me, with a lot more confidence than I had in the idea.

As it turned out, he was right.