Pilgrims of Hope: A Journey of Faith, Story, and Digital Witness

Introduction: The Road to Belonging

Next month, I'll be heading to Rome to attend the Jubilee of Digital Missionaries and Catholic Influencers. This pilgrimage offers the rare grace of passing through the Holy Door (Porta Sancta) at St. Peter's Basilica - opened only once every 25 years in a Jubilee year. The theme of the 2025 Jubilee, as declared by Pope Francis, is "Pilgrims of Hope."

Every Jubilee is a sacred call to spiritual renewal, reconciliation, and pilgrimage - a timely invitation to re-center my life, place God first, and surrender everything into His hands.

When I registered for the Digital Missionaries conference, I was asked to respond to several questions - not simple yes-or-no inquiries, but ones that prompted deep reflection.

In this post, I'd like to share how I became a Roman Catholic - spiritually, culturally, and personally.

A Search for Home: Why I Became Catholic

Let me begin with my personal background. Although I was raised in an unreligious family, my father - who attended a Catholic boys' school - naturally became my first Catholic influencer, even though he himself was never baptized. Of all the movies he brought my brother and me to see, the one I most vividly remember watching as a little girl was Jesus of Nazareth. Strange, isn't it?

My parents enrolled me in a Catholic girls' school for two years in Malaysia. It was there that my curiosity about Catholicism was first sparked - by angels and saints, and of course, by Jesus. I would often slip away into the school chapel. No one taught me to pray, but I instinctively knew I could speak to God. What troubles did I carry as a 7- or 8-year-old? I was a lazy student ~ I simply disliked studying. As exams approached, I feared failure. So, I went to the chapel to pray. Of course, I failed. But that never discouraged me from praying. I always knew I could talk to God. And even when my prayers weren't answered, somehow, that was okay.

Years later, after moving to Singapore, a woman approached me on the bus and started talking about church. I took her contact details and promised to join her that Sunday. When my father found out, he wouldn't let me - a minor - go out with a stranger. Instead, he personally brought me to a Catholic church. From then on, we occasionally attended Mass together, though we remained unbaptized. I remember standing in the back during Communion, watching as others lined up, wishing I could join them. But Dad said I couldn't. And so we waited quietly until Mass ended. 

Over time, I began attending Mass on my own or with friends. Gradually, I came to know the rhythm of the Catholic liturgy - its rituals, prayers, and silences - even though I was still uninitiated.

Looking back, I realize how often Roman Catholics gently surrounded me. In junior college in Singapore, a close friend and I attended novenas every Saturday after our half-day classes, followed by lunch at a food court - our two-year routine. In college in the U.S., two Korean friends took me to Mass at the Newman Center in Lexington, Kentucky. I wouldn't have gone otherwise. At work, I grew close with my Singaporean manager, also Catholic - he even gifted me a Bible. During a season of personal struggle, I joined the Catholic Community at Stanford and found positive influences and comfort in the people there. Later, in the Netherlands during my MBA studies, a Colombian friend and I attended the only English Vigil Mass held in the crypt of the Onze Lieve Vrouwe Basiliek.

At every one of those Masses, I observed but never partook of the Eucharist. Eventually, I discovered that I could approach the priest for a blessing by crossing my arms across my chest. I tried this once on Easter Island, but the priest didn't recognize the gesture. We stood awkwardly for a moment until I stepped aside. I suppose that form of blessing wasn't practiced there.

Because of my itinerant nature, my fear of commitment, or perhaps my own pride, I kept postponing baptism. I knew I could find peace in church, yet I didn't feel ready to dedicate myself fully.

That changed in the summer of 2010. I had settled in Boston and, after all my moving, felt it was time to stop wandering. I began RCIA (the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) in Boston and later transferred to St. Clare Parish in Santa Clara, California, in the Diocese of San Jose. There, at the Easter Vigil on April 23, 2011, I was baptized into the Roman Catholic Church by Father George Aranha.

At the Altar of the World: RCIA and The Eucharist

My RCIA formation lasted about eight months. A group of eight of us gathered nearly every Tuesday evening in the rectory at St. Clare Church. Some of us were preparing for Confirmation; others, like me, for baptism. The program was lovingly led by Diane and Cathy, who guided us with patience and wisdom.

Above: Diane (left) and Cathy (right)

We learned about the mystery of the Holy Trinity - God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit - and explored the Church's seven sacraments: Baptism, Confirmation, Eucharist, Penance (or Reconciliation), Anointing of the Sick, Holy Orders, and Matrimony. These sacraments are not just rites; they are channels of grace that draw us deeper into intimacy with the Lord.

Later, we learned about the saints and their role in the Church. Saints were holy men and women who lived exemplary Christian lives and serve as models of faith and intercessors in heaven - though we do not pray to them as we pray to the Triune God. As part of our RCIA journey, we were invited to choose a Confirmation saint - someone we admired and felt a spiritual affinity with. I chose St. Francis of Assisi, whose humility, love for nature, and surrender to God resonated deeply with me.

Above left: Rite of Sending at St. Clare Church - I inscribed my name in the Book of the Elect; Above right: Rite of Election at the Cathedral Basilica of Saint Joseph in San Jose, California, with Monsignor Francis Cilia (March 14, 2011)

Even now, 14 years later, I find myself moved when witnessing the Sacrament of Confirmation. Recently, at a Confirmation Mass in Phnom Penh, I saw a young boy choose Blessed Carlo Acutis as his Confirmation saint. Knowing that Blessed Carlo Acutis will be canonized on September 7, 2025, as the first millennial saint, filled me with joy and hope for the next generation.

Of all the sacraments, it is the Eucharist that anchors my spiritual life. I can still remember the overwhelming emotion of receiving the Holy Communion for the first time following my baptism. Tears welled up in my eyes as I knelt, mindful of Christ's sacrifice on the Cross and His abiding presence in the consecrated host. My soul had been ransomed by our Good Shepherd, and I was now fed by His grace.

To this day, every time I receive the Eucharist, I feel that same sacred trembling. It is a gift too profound to articulate fully - a quiet miracle that continues to nourish, sustain, and sanctify.

Sacred Symbols, Shared Peace

What I love most about the Roman Catholic Church is her universality, fraternity, and solidarity. Everywhere I've traveled, I've found the same Mass ritual - a shared language of prayer that transcends geography. The only variation might be the local vernacular during the liturgy or homily, but the structure remains deeply familiar.

Whether in French, Spanish, Italian, Croatian, Portuguese, or even Pascuan, the Mass always unfolds in these sacred movements:

• The Introductory Rites with the penitential act, Kyrie, and Gloria
• The Liturgy of the Word with Scripture readings, homily, Creed, and prayers of the faithful
• The Liturgy of the Eucharist, including the presentation of gifts, the Eucharistic Prayer, the Lord’s Prayer, the sign of peace, the Agnus Dei (Lamb of God), Communion, and finally,
• The Concluding Rites with the final blessing and dismissal

This rhythmic flow of communal worship remains unchanged, no matter the country or continent. It’s as if I am never far from home.

Among the most poignant moments in the Mass is the sign of peace. From a warm hug in Texas to two pecks on the cheeks in Fátima, Portugal, to simple handshakes paired with "Peace be with you" in countless tongues, the gesture always feels authentic. In that moment, strangers dissolve into siblings, united in Christ. Language holds no barrier; love needs no translation.

Culturally, the Roman Catholic Church speaks through her architecture. Her cathedrals across Europe are monumental testaments to faith and imagination. Their grandeur proclaims the beauty of divine mystery - each stone and spire a silent witness to centuries of belief.

Above: On the Camino de Santiago, with Burgos Cathedral in the background - a silent sermon of stone, light, and centuries of faith.

Here’s an excerpt from my book, “Raised with Him: A Journey of Grace from Valley to Heavenly Perspectives and Realities,” that reflects this reverence:

"These beautiful yet complex cathedrals, whether they are Gothic, Renaissance, or Baroque, portray a window to the transcendent: the cruciform plan of a nave and transepts reminding us of Jesus Christ's death on the cross to redeem humanity, the towering spires stretching and reaching for the celestial city, the glorious stained glass windows illumining church members with Bible stories, the ornate sculptures of Christ, saints, seraphin, and cherubim standing by the columned interior walls as imageries of faith, the rib vault ceiling (in Gothic architecture) protecting and supporting the long church nave leading to the altar, the thick round pillars buttressing the basilica, the candles' flame burning for believers' prayers, hopes, and thanksgivings, the old air permeating the holy space and sacred ground, the adjacent peristyle cloister and manicured green lawn (sometimes with a Cypress tree growing tall and upright as a reminder to stand up for truth and righteousness) offering an ode to God's creation in nature, and the arched hall and doorways lifting our vision and spirit to a higher plane. These cathedrals were carefully and piously built with not just stones but virtuosos' heart of noble faith." (p. 99)

In these sacred spaces, I find not only beauty - but belonging.

Sacred Music and Spiritual Intellect

One of the many things that strikes me about the Roman Catholic Church is its music. I love listening to "Pange lingua gloriosi corporis mysterium," which translates to "Sing, my tongue, the mystery of the glorious body," a medieval Latin hymn composed by St. Thomas Aquinas for the Feast of Corpus Christi. Its solemn beauty reflects the reverence due to the Eucharist, drawing the soul into contemplation.

I'm also deeply drawn to Gregorian chant, especially from the monks of Santo Domingo de Silos. I was blessed to hear their sacred voices firsthand during my Camino de Santiago pilgrimage in 2014, when I detoured to Santo Domingo de Silos for a couple of nights. It was an otherworldly experience to immerse myself in their prayer services at the Church of San Sebastián de Silos.

Here's an excerpt from my book that captures that moment:

"The monastery's gentle, godly, and graceful monks clad in plain black robes were a great influence on me. I admired their holy lives of sacred devotion, discipline, and divine singing of Gregorian chant in their daily prayer services, a tradition they have kept since the 11th century.... their a cappella choral music bears witness to God and brings relief, healing, and blessings to many stressed-out people in the world. As I listened to the monks' pure, heavenly vocals echoing soft, prayerful melodies around the church's dim sanctuary, I felt blessed to be a part of their ethereal worship of our benevolent God. My internal world felt rightly ordered in Santo Domingo de Silos. Not only did I gain peace of heart and breadth, depth, and clarity of mind, but I also felt closer to God as I detoxed from stimulants on the Camino and in life." (p. 127)

Music, for me, is not just artistic expression - it’s a form of prayer that transcends words.

Equally transformative are the intellectual treasures of the Church. I've long admired the writings of the early doctors of the Church like St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Augustine of Hippo, St. John Henry Newman, and St. Catherine of Siena. Their teachings enlighten my mind and deepen my faith. St. Catherine of Siena spoke of discernment through intense self-awareness (of our sinfulness and nothingness), contrasted with the knowledge of God's grace and fullness. But even earlier, it was St. Augustine who urged us to turn inward through what he called "textured interiority." But spiritual maturity isn’t only an inward journey - it also involves cultivating the mind. As St. John Henry Newman wrote, "There is beauty in a cultivated mind."

That balance between inner growth and intellectual depth continues to shape my journey. I try to stay attuned to both ancient and modern voices. One recent piece that stirred my thoughts was “Paradox, Seeming Inconsistency, and Tension” by Fr. Ron Rolheiser - a reflection on the mystery and richness of faith that defies easy answers.

In truth, much of my spiritual and emotional growth has come from a blend of experiences:

1. Travel, which broadened my empathy and perspective
2. 12-step meetings I attended in the U.S., where I learned to take personal responsibility and examine my motives
3. And above all, Scripture, which continues to renew my heart, mind, and soul

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1). That verse continues to reveal new dimensions each time I read it. When I began journaling meaningful passages, I found myself softening... transforming. Scripture is mysterious, yet honest, real, and deeply powerful.

Recent developments in the life of the Church have stirred a new kind of curiosity in me. The election of an American Pope - Pope Leo XIV on May 8, 2025 - has revived my interest in the Vatican and its inner workings. Pope Leo XIV struck me as introspective, wise, humble, and serene. Since his election, I've found myself drawn to Roma and Vatican news, something I had never paid much attention to before. As I read about the cardinals' backgrounds, I've been inspired by their multilingual abilities, rich education, and the breadth of pastoral and cultural experiences they bring to the Church.

Digital Mission, Ancient Faith

So we come to the heart of this post.

When I first created this blog, I never envisioned it as a form of mission work. Back then, terms like "digital missionary" or "content creator" weren't part of the conversation. I simply saw blogging as a hobby - a space to document my travels. But as time went on and my faith in Christ deepened, this blog became something more: a quiet outpouring of gratitude - a platform to proclaim that the Good Lord is my unfailing hope.

I’ve always enjoyed writing, photography, and travel, so this platform became a natural expression of all three. Now it feels like something sacred: a way to bring good news and publish peace (Nahum 1:15). I’ve been humbled by the kind words from readers around the world:

"Your blog is full of inspirations to travel. Congratulations."

"I love the thoroughness of your photoessays."

"THANK YOU for the beautiful pictures Janet"

"I found your blog while following my brother and sister in law's journey in Portugal. Very exciting to see so much of the world. Gives one a unique perspective. Bless you."

"You are indeed a (pretty) citizen of the world. I apreciate [sic] the detailed report you made about Porto, Portugal. You are a very sensitive and well instructed person. Next time you come to Portugal, send me an email. I will be glad to invite you for a dinner with my wife. I will show you a little more about Portuguese food. Now, I am going to look at your blog with more detail. Have a good life!"

"Sandra, I've read many a blog and "travel log" over the years and here's what I've noticed:

1. You are religious in heart, mind and soul

2. You say what's on your mind...warts and all

3. Living life in God's light is your focus.

4. You have a great sense of humor

Saludos,

Arn"

"Hello, I have just finished reading all your blog entries from Bayonne. It has taken me all afternoon. I came across your blog by google search as I still love all things Camino. Your photos are wonderful and you came across so positively, with a great philosophy and spirit. That El Acebo incident reminded me of a couple of horror nights too when I walked the Camino in the summer of 2013. Thank you so much for sharing this with the world and not keeping it private....I took a peek too at your other trips and am amazed you have managed to do so much on a modest budget. Very inspirational. Thank you again and God bless :)"

"Hi Sandra: nice to read something from you again. I am deeply touched by your sharing. You are such a practical and down to earth lady. "

"que lindas fotos...yo vivo en chile en santiago , pero vivi muchos años en Valparaiso cerro Alegre...

Saludos.Gracias por vivitar mi pais."

These comments remind me that the effort is worth it - not for recognition, but for connection.

In 2024, I began nurturing a second platform: my YouTube channel. Initially, it was just a personal archive. But as I experimented with editing and filming, I discovered how visual storytelling adds another layer of depth. From cat videos to lifestyle vlogs, I gradually invested in tools like a gimbal and a new phone to sharpen my footage and stabilize my hand.

The learning curve has been steep - editing takes time, focus, and energy I can’t always afford. Digital mission is not my full-time work. Still, every new video posted, every new subscriber gained, feels like a quiet affirmation to keep going.

While my channel doesn’t follow a single theme, I’ve curated playlists for topics I love - my cat, the Camino, Cambodia, etc. - and soon, a new one: Christianity. I know people aren’t always comfortable with religious content. But I believe it can be offered gently and authentically through glimpses of Scripture, the quiet presence of a cross, the simple joy of a life lived well in worship. Christianity isn’t boring; it’s vibrant, deep, and alive. In my own way, I hope to show that.

Authenticity matters to me, but so does reverence. I want my content to reflect beauty, dignity, and truth. I’m not here to pander to trends, but to reflect a life that glorifies God in the ordinary.

Many of my viewers are young: Gen Z and Millennials. Each group brings its own rhythms, its own spiritual hunger. It isn’t easy to reach everyone, but it’s encouraging to hear that more Millennials, especially men, are exploring traditional faiths like Catholicism. I hold hope for them, and for us.

Some of the themes closest to my heart - surrender, reconciliation, courage, stillness, gratitude, and growth - are deeply Catholic, yet universally human. If I can express those truths through a lens of beauty and faith, perhaps that’s mission enough.

May this blog and my YouTube channel be a light to reveal our Lord Jesus Christ to the young and old. And may whatever fruit comes from them be pleasing to the eyes of God.

The Jubilee in Rome: A Modern Pilgrimage

This will be my first Jubilee, though not my first pilgrimage. Like those before it, I hope this sacred journey will draw me closer to Jesus Christ and to my fellow spiritual brothers and sisters. I'm also excited to engage with other digital missionaries - sharing insights, learning new creative tools, and exploring meaningful collaborations.

This trip marks a return to Rome, but it feels entirely different from my visit in 2007. Then, I checked off the must-see tourist sites like the Colosseum, the Forum, Pantheon, and Trevi Fountain. Now my eyes are set not so much on marble and monuments, but on mercy and meaning.

I hope to walk through the Holy Door, to attend a public appearance by Pope Leo XIV, and to experience the Eternal City through the lens of devotion. I’ve mapped out a more intentional itinerary: all seven pilgrim churches of Rome, including the four major papal basilicas, each a beacon of faith through the centuries. At Saint Mary Major, one of these four, I will offer prayers in remembrance of Pope Francis.

This time, I come not only as a traveler, but as a witness; not only to see, but to seek. This pilgrimage is no longer just about place; it is about presence - of God, of others, and of my own reawakened purpose.

I look forward to it.

Previous post: San Francisco Bay Area, California, USA

San Francisco Bay Area, California, USA: November 27 - December 8, 2024

After nearly a decade in Cambodia, my trip back to the US was eye-opening. Everything amazed me - the cold weather, toilet seat covers, restroom doors that don't reach the floor, huge restaurant portions, family-sized meat packs in supermarkets, the abundance of Teslas, the size of some people, fresh organic berries, and the variety of squash. The list goes on.

I was reminded of how friendly and outgoing Americans can be. At a farmers' market, a woman approached me and asked if I'd tried ghee in coffee because she saw me filming the stall. That was refreshing. Most people thank the bus driver when they get off, something I'd never seen in Asia. Customer service in the US is also top notch. Most, if not all, staff are incredibly accommodating. Want a drink instead of a free pizza? No problem. Need new bills? They'll check the vault. Prefer two large cups for your tea bags? Done. Got any honey? They'll top it up. Hot tea at Denny's? It's on the house. Cranberry cake instead of blueberry? Absolutely. I love how flexible and obliging they are. It's no surprise that the trendy term in the US has shifted from 'customer service' to 'customer success'.

Suburban life is a welcome change from city living. It was lovely to take neighborhood walks in the crisp autumn air, enjoying the fall colors and manicured front yards. I was astonished to see little free libraries outside two homes. I appreciate the residents' generosity and their willingness to share their love for reading.

Still, there were the downsides.

During my week in the US, healthcare issues reached a boiling point, culminating in the tragic shooting of a top health insurance CEO. It's a sad state of affairs. TV and Spotify were dominated by commercials for pharmaceuticals and law firms - this says a lot about the US culture. The hotel TV was flooded with urgent Medicare (Advantage) ads, all urgently announcing the approaching sign-up deadline. It was unpleasant. Someone once said the US is a business, and I have to agree.

Prices in the US have skyrocketed. A latte or a slice of pizza costs $6.55, and most meals are $17 or more. Many ordinary folks in the Bay Area can't afford to eat out anymore, so they cook at home. A cab driver told me he needs to make $150 daily just to break even. When I pointed out the new condo developments along 101, he said they cost $900K to a million. Housing has become a major issue. People have to pay a premium to live comfortably in the Bay. Tech workers seem to be doing well, but with sudden layoffs, many are worried about their job security.

It seems the US government, at all levels, needs to catch up with the private sector. SFO hasn't changed much in a decade. From the jetway to immigration, everything looks the same - like it's stuck in the 70s. It pales in comparison to Asian airports that welcome visitors with bright, colorful LED/LCD displays. Worse yet, SFO charges $9 to rent a cart at the departure level! Everywhere else I've been, carts are always free. Seeing Tesla Cybertrucks on the road alongside the same old public transit buses makes you realize how slow the government is to modernize and innovate. Often considered the high-tech capital of the world, it's a shame that Silicon Valley’s public transportation can’t compete with those in Bangkok, Seoul, Singapore, or Tokyo.

As a result, many people rely heavily on cars. Due to the spread-out nature of workplaces, businesses, and residential areas, driving is a necessity. Instead of shopping at a multi-story mall, people must drive to several flat strip malls to get what they need. The prevalence of 9-series license plates now suggests a significant number of car upgrades since I last lived in the Bay, when 4-series plates were common. Newer, fancier, electric models now populate the road. It’s no easy feat to reduce people’s dependence on their car.

Finally, I didn't feel safe in the US. A friend mentioned that disorderliness has increased since the pandemic. Drivers are speeding more, and businesses are being pilfered. With the justice system tying their hands, cops have turned a blind eye. While random shootings aren't as common in California as compared to other states, it was still a concern in the back of my mind. When I asked a receptionist for a pair of scissors, she said they're not allowed to have those items lying around. She added, 'We're living in a crazy world now.' I couldn't agree more.

As such, I have joined the ranks of many Americans who have relocated abroad for a lower cost of living and a warmer, safer lifestyle. I enjoy patronizing small businesses because eating out in person doesn’t break the bank. My favorite chicken schnitzel plate with two sides (salad and fries), for instance, costs just $6 in Phnom Penh - no tax, no tip necessary. That's at least three times cheaper than in the Bay Area. I no longer fear for my life due to carjackings or random shootings. Healthcare and insurance in Asia are practically affordable. I don't drive anymore; instead, I get around in plentiful, wallet-friendly tuktuks. While Asia isn't perfect, I’m really happy to be back in this part of the world for the long term.

Until next time, pax et bonum.

Next post: Pilgrims of Hope: A Journey of Faith, Story, and Digital Witness

Previous post: Bangkok, Thailand

Bangkok, Thailand: August 19-22, 2024

I took my parents on a brief trip to Bangkok recently. Come join us on a shopping and dining adventure in modern Bangkok!

Next post: San Francisco Bay Area, California, USA

Previous post: Osaka, Japan

Osaka, Japan: July 8-11, 2023

Day 8: Saturday, July 8, 2023

We checked out of Onyado Nono Natural Hot Springs Hotel at 11 a.m. and walked to Kyoto Station. I purchased 2 local JR tickets (yellow line) to Osaka for ¥1,160, conveniently paid with my Suica card. From there, we headed to Platform 5 and boarded a local train almost immediately - no long wait, and pleasantly uncrowded. The train was clean, mildly-air conditioned, and provided a relaxing ride.

Along the route, we passed quiet neighborhoods filled with spacious, traditional Japanese houses. The scenery seemed safe and welcoming. As we approached Osaka, the low-rise homes gave way to modern high-rises, gradually signaling the shift into a busier, more vertical cityscape.

We arrived at Osaka Station around 12:15 p.m. After exiting through the central gates, we descended to Basement 1 and began walking in the direction of Umeda Metro Station. The underground mall was bustling with food stalls and eateries, so we stopped at Bagel & Bagel for a quick bite - two bagel sandwiches cost ¥1,070. Mine was filling, but left something to be desired in flavor. 

Further along, I picked up a luncheon meat and egg rice ball at Boo's Kitchen for ¥260 - an interesting savory snack to try. Then we hopped onto the red Midosuji Line, headed for Yodoyabashi Station.

From there, we walked about 800 meters, roughly a 10-minute stroll, to Hotel Brighton City Osaka Kitahama. Since check-in wasn't until 3 p.m., we left our luggage at reception and headed straight out to explore Osaka Castle (open daily from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.).

The trip from Kitahama to Morinomiya Station took around 15 minutes with one train transfer. We were unprepared for the blazing sun and weekend crowds at the castle park, which is free to enter and clearly beloved by locals. Seeking shade, we stopped at an information rest station, bought cold drinks from a vending machine, and took a brief rest.

Turned out, the information rest station was also a train stop, so to avoid walking the entire distance in the heat, we hopped aboard the park train (tickets cost ¥800 for 2 adults), which ferried us to the center of the park near Osaka Castle itself. Along the ride, I spotted plum trees, moats both interior and exterior, and a tranquil lake. The park buzzed with weekend energy: locals jogging, walking briskly, cycling, and soaking in the sun.

The exterior of Osaka Castle, Japan's largest, was truly impressive. Its massive base of interlocking stone walls brought to mind the precision of Inca stone masonry - a fascinating architectural echo across cultures. I decided to skip the interior historical museum to avoid long lines and the crowd. The train ride back to Morinomiya Station exit cost ¥600, thanks to the senior fare for Mom.

On our way back to the hotel, we made a final pit stop for provisions - picking up bento boxes and snacks from a nearby supermarket (¥1,900) and convenience store (¥660). After checking in, we called it a day. We were absolutely bushed! 

I have to say, Mom's been a trooper throughout this trip. She gave it her all, navigating the long walks and endless stairs with patience and quiet resilience. As Osaka marked our final city, the cumulative physical toll was setting in - travel fatigue is very real.

After dinner, I unwound with a warm bath - not an onsen, just the humble hotel bathroom kind, which I've come to appreciate genuinely thanks to Japan's bathing culture. I went to bed early and slept deeply - over 12 hours straight - waking up at around 8 the next morning, feeling restored.

Day 9: Sunday, July 9, 2023

After a deep, rejuvenating sleep, I woke feeling refreshed and ready to explore. Maybe it was the hotel's bed, or maybe I was just plain old tired, but it definitely felt like the most comfortable of our trip.

Breakfast was simple: a soft-boiled egg each, a cup of coffee, and half a spam egg rice ball to share. We took the metro to Shinsaibashi-suji Shopping Street, a 600-meter covered shopping arcade brimming with variety - from high-end fashion to fast fashion/discount shops, along with street food stalls, restaurants, pachinko gaming centers, capsule toy shops, and grocery stores.

We began at Shinsaibashi Station and walked toward Ebisubashi Bridge, located just north of Dotonbori. Before crossing into Dotonbori, we grabbed an early lunch of kushikatsu at Daruma (¥2,299) - deep-fried skewers of meat, seafood, and vegetables, a beloved Osaka specialty.

Dotonbori greeted us like a neon jungle - loud, ostentatious, and over-the-top shop signs. Takoyaki, Osaka's famous octopus balls, were everywhere. We chose a shop at random and ordered 8 balls with extra green onions for ¥650. We stood next to the store to eat. Fresh off the grill, they were piping hot - chewy outside, creamy inside, each hiding a piece of octopus.

Next, we bought a freshly made whole cheesecake from Uncle Rikuro's Namba main store for ¥965 and then rested at Tully's Coffee, where we people-watched over two drinks (¥855). Like people in Singapore, the Japanese tacitly reserve their seats/tables with personal items. In California, that same move once earned me an "obnoxious" label. National cultures, go figure!

We meandered through alleyways and did some light shopping - our luggage nearly full, but not quite: 

• 2 packs of matcha milk dark tea (¥858)
• 2 Japanese tea cups, 3 chopstick holders, and a long bamboo tea spoon (~¥1,350)
• 3 Moca T-shirts and a long black dress (¥3,454)
• A bag for work/school from Mom (¥3,289)

Before returning to the hotel, we made one last stop at the 7-Eleven across the street and picked up a few convenience store staples: 2 tuna mayo onigiris (¥280), a carton of premium mixed vegetable fruit juice (¥178), an egg salad sandwich (¥280), and a ham sandwich (¥290) - totaling ¥1,110.

Back at the hotel, we settled in for the evening with slices of Uncle Rikuro's famous cheesecake. Light, fluffy, spongey, and subtly sweet - it was every bit as delicious as promised. 

Later that night, we watched Japanese karaoke competitions on TV. What caught our attention wasn't just the impressive vocals - it was how the contestants were scored: by AI algorithms rather than human judges. It added an oddly fascinating layer to the performance, where pitch, rhythm, and intonation were evaluated with cool precision. Welcome to karaoke 2.0.

Day 10: Monday, July 10, 2023

Our final full day in Japan began around 8 a.m. with a metro ride to Kuromon Ichiba Market - Osaka's most popular marketplace boasting over 100 stores and proudly celebrating its 200th anniversary in 2023. While the general hours are 8 a.m. to 6 p.m., individual shop times vary, and the market is closed on Wednesdays. We arrived early to catch the freshest finds of the day.

I started with a bottle of fresh soy milk for ¥250, followed by a plate of fresh tuna for ¥500. Then came 5 skewers of sizzling wagyu beef, grilled on an iron plate for ¥1,000. Mom picked out a fresh, enormous apple for ¥214, which we saved for later. When we finally sliced into it back at the hotel, it was incredibly sweet and juicy!

We strolled back toward Sennichimae Doguyasuji Shopping Street and Dotonburi to revisit spots we missed the day before. Thankfully, it was a Monday and the streets were far less crowded, making for a much more pleasant experience. Among the loud and playful storefronts, we spotted several Kuidaore Taro dolls - the iconic clown mascot used by many restaurants in Osaka to celebrate the city's "eat till you drop" spirit.

Next, we walked up Shinsaibashi-suji Shopping Street for a bit of window-shopping. I've never seen such a long, covered arcade in all my travels - it truly felt endless, packed with visual stimulation at every turn. I picked up a long navy blue dress for just ¥1,100 - our only purchase for the day since our luggage was packed to the brim.

We had lunch at Tsurumaru Udon, a cozy spot usually crowded with local office workers on their midday break. I ordered kitsune udon with tempura, while Mom had a satisfying combo of pork cutlet katsudon and tempura. The total came to just ¥1,950 - unbeatable value for such hearty portions. When we left, the line outside had grown long. Good thing we beat the rush.

We walked a little farther and returned to the hotel to rest. At 5 p.m., we had a comforting eel, rice, and soup set meal at Yayoi Teishoku restaurant near our hotel. Total cost was ¥2,200. The self-ordering process was smooth and modern - I used the ticket machine to the left of the entrance, paid for the food, collected the meal tickets, and handed them to a server before taking our seats. Tea, water, ice, extra rice, and pickles were all available self-serve at a counter along the wall. The eel was soft, sweet, and buttery - pure umami delight.

After dinner, we walked a few minutes to the Tosahori River. Crossing the Naniwabashi Bridge, we were greeted by a bloom of colorful roses in the Nakanoshima Rose Garden. We snapped a few photos and strolled back to the hotel, hearts full and feet grateful.

This was a serene and graceful end to our summer vacation through Tokyo, Kyoto, and Osaka.

Thanks be to God.

Day 11: Tuesday, July 11, 2023

Around 8 a.m., I mailed out the pocket WiFi at a postbox inside Lawson, located diagonally across from our hotel. We checked out at 11 a.m. and began our journey to Kansai International Airport by train.

First, we took the Sakaisuji Metro Line from Kitahama Station (a 13-minute ride across 6 stops) to Tengachaya Station. There, we transferred to the Nankai (Limited Express) Airport Line, which carried us directly to Kansai-Airport Station. The fare was ¥930 per adult, and total travel time was about one hour.

Next post: Bangkok, Thailand

Previous Post: Kyoto, Japan: July 5-8, 2023