After a long journey, with a plane ride and the hubbub of Narita and then the two-plus hour bus ride, I feel like crying when there's no one to meet me at the bus station and help me with my enormous throwback suitcases. So I take a taxi, after lugging the bags, one at a time, first up and then down the stairs across the overpass to the taxi stand. Which seems to take forever. And the silver one is ancient and dented and has no wheels. And the green one is pretty ancient too but has wheels which don't seem to help that much.
But in the cab, the full moon suddenly looms large and mottled and orange and I exclaim at it. And the driver looks too and we share a moment of awe. And it's a little better.