Now that I had the magic ticket, there was plenty of time for breakfast so I had another Filet o Fishfest. I felt 152 times better and a tentative emerging sense of control.
I got back to the hostel to check out and made the second best decision of the day. I asked the guy at reception about train or bus fares from Osaka to Shikoku. Not only did he ring and make a bus reservation, he wrote out a number of generic notes such as "Where is the bus/train departure platform? - Thank You."
I checked out with as many Arigato's as the poor man could handle and went to the Train Station, caught the (aforementioned wrong) train then showed one of my notes to about three people - the last one was a teenage school boy who, bless his Rod Stewart hairdo, walked me all the way to the depot.
It was a breeze compared to the previous days of public transport trauma.
While I was sitting on my (much lighter but still heavy) backpack, I saw a Henro and was reassured when he got on the same bus as me. Maybe I could follow him when we got to Tokushima?
Once I settled into my seat on the bus, I opened a fresh packet of Hindsight And Perspective, and could see why I stressed so much. I forgot about jetlag, was pre-period, had info overload (as Steven suggested), culture shock and severely limited means of communication.
I knew it would happen again, and probably soon, but what made this time different from my South Island trip, is that this time I had communication with people who, despite my numerous flaws and dress sense, loved and supported me more than my limited sense of self-worth could conceive as even sensible.
Maybe just maybe...
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