It’s my first time in the country, and the world I find myself in seems completely deliberate. The path of each bicycle, the cadence of each step—there’s intention. It’s not simply carrying out a chore, it’s more the fulfilment of a duty. Satisfaction, versus mere acceptance. It’s a subtle shift, and it makes a world of difference.
This ubiquitous pride in the small things is impossible to conjure unless, generation after generation, people have devoted themselves to the value of their traditions. You find proof of this devotion everywhere. From the kindness of shop owners, to the depth and quality of the products they carry. A knife, crafted in the same manner for hundreds of years, will prepare recipes that have been perfected thru repetition. Those dishes will be served on tableware formed by that same artistry, and known intimately by the individuals sitting down.
There’s a communal heritage connecting each routine to the next, creating undeniable balance. A collective harmony worthy of its process. What a feeling it must be, to be certain of the legacy you’re deepening. What a treasure to be so sure of your days.