Dear Stalker,
We met on a beautiful autumn day in November 2023, in the Miyazaki prefecture of Japan. It was my second time in the country, having just spent five months traveling through Eastern and Southeastern Asia. After a month of resting my body and mind in Kitakyushu, Fukuoka, I decided to explore the rest of Kyushu Island. My time in Kitakyushu had given me a real feel for the people here—a glimpse into the openness and calm of southern Japan that I had grown so fond of.
My first stop on the route was Takachiho. I had seen photos of the breathtaking Takachiho Gorge and heard countless stories about the Amano Iwato Shrine. The vibrant fall colors of Miyazaki were just an added picture-perfect welcome to my exploratory soul.
The day I arrived, I visited the Amano Iwato Shrine and learned the legend of Amaterasu, the sun goddess who hid away in a cave after her brother Susanoo, the god of storms, angered her. A world without the sun goddess was plunged into darkness. Desperate to lure her out, the other gods threw a party outside the cave entrance. In the end, it was the wild, lewd dancing of Ame-no-Uzume, the goddess of humor, that drew loud laughter from the crowd and piqued Amaterasu’s curiosity. As she slowly peeped out of the celestial cave to see what was happening, the sun goddess inadvertently filled the world with light once more. Standing there outside that very cave, I replayed the whole mythological story in my head, scene by scene, imagining it to be real. Sharing in the local lore filled me with so much joy.
The next day, I visited Takachiho Gorge. The marvelously clear blue water glistened under the sun, and the red canoes floating on the sparkling river created the most picturesque scene.
On my third day, I decided to wander through town. As I stepped out of a coffee shop to walk toward the bus stop for the rice terraces, you drove past in your car. Our eyes met for a brief second, and I smiled politely, the way I do with everyone.
From that moment on, you started following me. You drove past, reached the nearest intersection, pulled a U-turn, and drove past again. And again.
After the third time, alarm bells started ringing. I didn’t feel safe waiting at the bus stop alone, so I turned around to head back to my guesthouse until things cleared up. But as I quickened my pace, you began following me there, too. Refusing to let you see where I was staying, I ducked down a flight of stairs toward the lower road. The moment you drove around to cut me off, I darted back up the steps while I was out of your line of sight and sprinted all the way back to my room.
I spent an hour or so reading, waiting for the tension to pass. When I finally felt safe, I walked to a nearby stop and caught the bus to the rice terraces. I walked to my heart’s content among the unending green fields, set against the backdrop of the Sobo-Katamuki-Qwasi National Park mountains.
Having missed the last bus back, I decided to trek back to town on foot, planning to stop by the Kushifuru Shrine along the way. It was going to be a peaceful two-to-three-hour walk, and I was grateful for the gorgeous weather and the time to take it all in.
As I walked down the winding roads, I heard a car pull up beside me. To my horror, it was you.
You had been driving around for two or three hours trying to hunt me down. And you had.
You rolled down the window and gestured for me to get in. I shook my head and said, “Iie” meaning no, in Japanese. You stared blankly back at me. Then you stepped out of the car and gestured again for me to get inside. It was the middle of nowhere; fear couldn’t take the wheel.
I shook my head sternly, raised my voice, and gestured sharply for you to back off. “Go away!” I yelled. As brave as I acted, I was terrified to my core.
To my absolute surprise, you quietly got back into your car and drove off.
I stood there, dumbfounded. Relief washed over me, and as the shock slowly wore off, and I continued walking, trying to anchor myself back into my body. You were, without a doubt, the politest stalker I’ve ever encountered.
I reached Kushifuru Shrine right around sunset. I stood mesmerized by the magical rays of light filtering through the geometrically aligned trees of the surrounding forest—komorebi, one of the most beautiful sights I have ever witnessed.
As I prayed at the shrine, I thanked God for keeping me safe. But I also whispered a quiet thank you to you for leaving when you did, without causing me harm. And I prayed that you’d realize how terrifying your actions were to a woman traveling alone in a remote corner of a foreign country and that you never, ever do it again.
I hope you are well.
Love,