The plan was to catch a train at 7 am, in order to be in Yokohama around 11 am to meet with Taro Amano at the Yokohama Museum of Art.
So I arrived at the station at 6:30 am expecting to be able to purchase a ticket with my credit card or in the worst case to find a cash machine.
I told you I was a moron.
I figured out that it was not possible to pay with credit card in a station so early in the morning, and that the cash machine was in a department store, closed until 10 am, as well as the travel agency which uses international credit card.
My meeting was at 11 am in Yokohama.
The cell phone, for some reason refused to work.
It was 6:45 am. I was alone in a station. I already checked out from the hotel.
I slept too much.
And, I think, this day Osaka learned more French slang than they ever wanted to.
I apologize for that.
I also think that they did not ask to see my bag flying in the lobby of the station. Don't worry. It was not Japan that I hated so early in the morning. It was me and my unbelievable sense of organization.
Frustration at its highest degree. Impossible to communicate. You feel anger and rage but there is no way you can direct them toward something, someone precise. I guess I was missing some sense of humor that morning. This little thing that allows you to keep some distance with emotion, which allows you to control emotion, to cool it down.
Never react like this in Japan. It is really bad. First you look like a spoiled kid, and second, it is the perfect way to close any possibility of communication. Of course they don't speak English, but, Philippe, think a minute about your Japanese language skill. Think a minute about what would happen to a Japanese curator lost in Cloquet, Minnesota, or in Limoges, France, and asking for a cash machine and eventually for some sushi. How welcome would he be? How much help could he be able to expect?
Finally, another staff member from the station came to me after I cooled down a little bit and told me about a cash machine 5 minutes from the station.
I loved him, right away.
I ran. I bought my ticket. I rushed to catch the 8 am train. I collapsed guilty. How good (I am Catholic).

Then arriving in Yokohama, the situation did not get better when the taxi was not able to find the museum and was trying to drop me anywhere. I refused and stayed in the car until we found it. Needless to say I was not in a poetic mood that day. I was late but finally met with Taro Amano and visited the museum. Collection. Historical but okay. Nice photo exhibition about the Japanese athletes during the 1939 (is this right?) Olympics. Spoke with Amano about their program. Exchanged ideas about a show he is working on, about the landscape. Quick lunch. I took a walk in Yokohama. Nice architecture, really big. And in the middle of the city, on the river, an amusement park. I felt totally lost. Moving from city to city, without spending a lot of time in any of them, I started to merge the landmarks I do not know anyway.