Entering the Expo in the Evening
Visit: June 1 , 2025
It was not a day devoted only to the Expo.
🥐 Morning — A Quiet Start at Wald in Sannomiya
Morning in Sannomiya.
Inside Wald, the atmosphere slowly changes with time.
At first, the sound is gentle, like birdsong.
Soon, it shifts to soft jazz.
I ordered almond butter toast.
Nothing flashy — just a taste that lets the ingredients speak.
The space feels calm, filled more with locals than tourists.
Spending the morning among them feels quietly luxurious.
“Kobe is a city that suits red.”
The moment I saw a deep red teacup,
my father’s words suddenly came back to me.
I don’t know why,
but moments like this — when memories quietly rise — are also part of travel.
A slow start at a stylish café in Kobe.
🔵 Afternoon — A Subtle Sense of Unease at the Tonbodama Museum
It was smaller than I had imagined,
and I felt a slight sense of disappointment.
I have always loved glasswork,
and I did come across a few pieces that stayed with me.
But overall, the impression was faint.
Along a journey,
there are places that do not leave a strong mark.
That, too, felt like something worth remembering.
I came across some fascinating glassworks.
🍽 Lunch — Akamaru Shokudo in Bentencho
Before heading to the Expo,
I stopped for lunch in Bentencho.
Akamaru Shokudo.
It was a place where the atmosphere of the Showa era still lingered.
Rather than a meal that makes you full,
it felt like the kind of food that says, “I can go on now.”
I would like to write more about this place
in a different context, apart from the Expo.
And then, I headed toward Yumeshima.
🎫 Entering the Expo — The Initiation at the East Gate
I thought I had arrived early enough.
But at the East Gate,
there was a line far longer than I had imagined.
I had heard the rumors,
yet seeing it with my own eyes made me smile a little.
I felt that this was the Expo’s initiation.
Waiting in line, too,
was part of the program of the day.
🕌 Evening to Night — The Egypt Pavilion and the Show I Let Go
The line for the Egypt Pavilion was 120 minutes long.
Honestly, I hesitated.
And the line hardly moved.
A staff member told me,
“Actually, you might be able to get in within about an hour.”
So I decided to stay in line.
In the end, I was able to enter.
But in exchange,
I had to give up the night show.
What I chose was not liveliness, but depth.
Rather than rushing through the world,
I chose to spend the evening truly seeing one country.
I do not regret that decision.
A first visit full of hesitation and uncertainty.
🚌 Night — The Unexpected Last Bus
On the way back, I took a direct bus to the station near my home.
I joined the line around eight in the evening.
It was far longer than I had imagined.
Because the bus runs on the expressway,
it moves forward only by the number of available seats.
I watched several buses pass by.
“Will I be able to get on?”
It was not really a question for anyone else,
but a voice directed at myself.
Not quite a question,
not exactly a confirmation —
closer to a quiet wish.
As I followed the slow movement of the line with my eyes,
I could not tell when I would get on,
or whether I truly would.
If I failed to board the bus,
I would be sent to a shuttle bus bound for some JR station.
In that case,
I might not be able to get home.
I had work the next day.
It was a battle with anxiety.
🌌 Light in the Line
While waiting in line, I looked up at the sky.
The light of a drone show entered my field of vision.
People in the queue lifted their eyes from their phones.
A light that softened a difficult moment, just a little.
I saw only a fragment of the show,
but I did see it.
I finally boarded the last bus at ten o’clock.
What a relief.
🎁 An Unexpected Gift — The Sky on the Way Home
Looking back,
I feel that the light was not just a performance.
“Good job.”
“Come again.”
It felt as if such words were falling from the night sky.
I had given up the show I wanted to see,
yet it reached me in another form.
Closing
It was a day filled with crowds, waiting, and mistakes.
And yet, when I look back,
I find myself thinking, “I’m glad I went.”
Perhaps it is because
I made each choice myself.
This stopover was not only about the Expo.
About Akamaru Shokudo, which I visited in Bentencho,
I wrote separately in my article “Beauty and Taste.”
👉 Related article:
🍵Beauty & Taste | Expo ①
Today’s bonus capsule!
✨ Gateway to the Showa Era―Memories of the Expo
The Showa era (1926–1989) was a time when modern technology and ideas began to transform everyday life in Japan.
When I was a child,
my family went to the previous Osaka Expo.
We often went on rainy days,
because it was less crowded.
Strangely, I don’t remember the Expo itself very well.
What I remember clearly is the park that remained after it ended.
A day we visited the Expo Park on a school trip.
The wide lawn, the smell of the wind.
More than the playground,
I remember the vastness of the sky.
Maybe,
spending time playing with friends
was more fun than thinking about the future.
Even now, after the Expo, the park remains.
This time too, some people reportedly went to the park by mistake,
thinking it was the Expo site.
The future disappeared,
but the grass remained.
That is probably
my memory of the Expo.