Noboribetsu (登別) was blanketed by a fine and substantial layer of snow by the time I finished the evening bath; and having just walked and ate my several rounds at the crab buffet dinner, a stroll in the snowy darkness was tempting enough despite the howling cold wind. Just beneath the hotel are rows of souvenir shops and convenience stores and restaurants, in which more or less the same products are offered and price variation does not fluctuate enough to justify taking the time for comparison. I took a borrowed umbrella, shielding from falling snow, and took each step carefully over the snow-covered slippery pavement. An underground canal is located right next to the hotel, in which the gushing of water toward the lower plain can be heard distinctively: it sounded clean, with a hollowness to it.

The distance between the hotel and the shop streets was of short, but the semi-darkness that demarcated the two was made more poignant by the running water and the snow. Emerging out of the darkness, the streets offered a teeming and cozy atmosphere where tourists like myself are prone to spend hard-earned dollars on kitschy things to take home. The streets seemed more remarkable from the top of the hotel, where the warmth softened my perception with a mawkish gauze; and having browsed four different souvenir stores with identical selections, my eyes grew weary, but the falling snow, a novelty in Los Angeles and Taipei, soon recovered my enthusiasm. I purchased a hot coffee laden with sugar and cream from the convenience store, and found a bench to sit down, adoring the white world around. "Wouldn't it be nice to live in a place like this?" the thought conjured a mental mirage that will have lodged in my mind for long, long time.

Tags: Hokkaido, 北海道, Japan, travel, Noboribetsu, 登別, snow