After a long drive through remote eastern Hokkaido, I arrive in downtown Sapporo, just as the sun sets below the horizon. We'd been hiking, canoeing and cruising our way through some of the region's most distant towns and national parks, staying in small inns and soaking in hot springs surrounded by nothing but the gurgle of creeks and the breeze off the ocean.
Now, here we are in a city of nearly 2 million. Sapporo is awakening. Flashing neon signs, music blaring from competing speakers and people — oh, so many people — energized the place. I am both fascinated and frightened.
I am an Alaskan and, in my world, wide-open spaces are of the utmost importance. From my house, I can't see my neighbors. I can travel 2 kilometers from my front door to reach trails populated with bears and moose. So, to say I am out of my element in downtown Sapporo is a gross understatement, which is exactly why I feel myself falling in love with this far-northern city.