EPTAfter such a relaxing evening the night prior, I awoke refreshed on my eighth day in Japan. I strode down to the hotel lobby and gorged myself at the western style breakfast buffet. After a week of dining on miso soup and rice balls each morning, even clumsily-prepared scrambled eggs, boiled potatoes, and sausage links were something to celebrate.
The buffet was included in the cost of my room, which was a good thing; my wallet was feeling a little light. Not wanting to embark upon a long day of travel without a healthy amount of yen, I went searching for an international ATM. My guidebooks recommended the towering banks along Hiroshima's main street. I visited them all—nine banks total. Not one of them accepted my Visa card. Sweaty and unhappy, and still shouldering my backpack, I stopped at a convenience store to buy a beverage. I glanced up at the sign. “7 & Holdings,” it read.
I paused for a moment. Hadn't the bank I'd used in Matsue had “7” in its name? Did... did the store have an ATM? It did! Could a downright pervasive convenience store really be the best place for an American to get money in Japan? IT COULD.
![[image loading]](http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v1908/35/36/64200053/n64200053_30566685_8084.jpg)
A convenience store did what nine imposing banks could not.
![[image loading]](http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v1908/35/36/64200053/n64200053_30566686_8328.jpg)
One last shot of Hiroshima.
Wad of cash in hand, I made my way to the train station and purchased a ticket to the Miyajima ferry terminal. Before boarding the train, I asked an elderly, uniformed woman if I was getting on the correct train. She nodded fervently, spoke in rapid Japanese, pushed me towards the train, and repeatedly pointed at two wholesome-looking girls in my car. I had no idea why she was so incensed. After I did not take a seat next to the girls, she went over and spoke to them for a moment, this time pointing at me. The girls giggled and hid their faces, intermittently sneaking glances in my direction. The elderly woman again motioned for me to come sit next to the girls. One of the girls shrugged and moved her suitcase a few feet to the side, making room for me. I chuckled and motioned to the girl that I had no intention of intruding on her and her friend.
The old woman finally abandoned her quest to get me seated, and I was left standing in the middle of the crowded train. After a few stops, a seat opened up next to a balding man with a salt and pepper ponytail and casual clothing. He gestured for me to come sit next to him.
“Hello,” he said, speaking with an odd accent. “You speak English? You are American?”
“Yes,” I said. “From California.”
“Oh, with Arnold,” the man laughed, doing his best impression of the governor. “Vacation?”
“Yes, I am traveling for two weeks.”
“You are alone?”
“Yes.”
The man talked for a long while about his own travels. He had lived in Spain for eight years, had visited the United States, and had travelled extensively around eastern Asia. He joked often about the differences in culture between Japan and Spain and continued to impersonate Arnold from time to time. We laughed for the majority of the 30 minutes we spent together on the train. The man was carrying a small gift bag.
“You are so worldly,” I laughed. “That gift must be for your 20-year-old girlfriend.”
The man laughed, which made his next statement all the more harsh. “No, this is for my wife. She is in hospital for many days, so I must visit.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry,” I said.
“She will be fine, fine,” he said, but his face was grave. “Four more stops for you. Four, I think.”
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I've been to Japan 3 times now (All Fukuoka) and I'd like to explore different parts of the country in the future - it's pretty expensive, but it makes a nice change from Korea. 
