We’ve left Japan, wishing we had an extra day or two there. Everything ran to such precision; the trains, even the garbage pickup (we were told by the lady who managed our apartment to take the garbage out on a certain day at 830 am, not earlier, not the night before, but at 830 am the morning of the collection. Did we dare to disobey?). Where your car (coach) of the train stops at the station is clearly marked on the platform and you can be sure that your car will stop precisely there, not a centimeter further.
So from a tatami-floored apartment where we rolled out our futons each night we’ve come to a little house right on the beach famous for its surf. Go ahead and be jealous; we are at the North Shore in Hawaii and the surf is up.