7 hours offline in Uji

Have you ever been disconnected, only to feel more connected?

My phone battery died when I was in Uji. Seven hours passed before I got home to Osaka.

The last place I visited before it dropped to 0% was Horii Shichimeien. I had foolishly thought I could make it to a Seven-Eleven before it shut down, rent a Charge Spot power bank, and return it at another Seven. How wrong I was.

I didn’t have the app installed. When I tried to download it, it wasn’t even showing up on the App Store. Searching for that damn app drained what little battery I had left. Then nothing. Just despair.

I went to the tourist information center and somehow kept myself calm. Took a deep breath and asked the staff if I could charge my phone there or if they had any advice. They said no, they didn’t offer that kind of service, but suggested I buy a mobile battery instead.

I thought about that too, but had no idea where to buy one in Uji. Unlike Kyoto or Osaka where there’s Yodobashi Camera, Uji’s mostly tea shops, cafes, Byodoin, Genji Museum, and local crafts.

They pointed me to a place called Conan. Like a big general store. I asked how to get there, and they gave me step-by-step instructions—turns, landmarks, all that.

After a while walking, I saw an old lady and decided to ask again. Good thing I did. The staff had told me to go straight, but the lady told me I had to turn right at the next intersection. Thanks to her, I actually found Conan.

I went in, looked for a mobile battery and a cable, bought both, and tested it right after the register. Turns out, the power bank had zero charge. I couldn’t believe it.

I asked customer service. They confirmed—yep, it needed to be charged first before use. The exact opposite of what I needed.

The whole reason I was buying the damn thing was because I couldn’t charge. Japan isn’t the kind of place where you just walk into a café and ask to plug in. “Denki dorobou”—stealing electricity—is frowned upon, and that mindset was drilled into me when I lived here. Luckily, they let me return the items.

At that point I said screw it. I knew from street signs that Conan was somewhere between Uji and the Main Plant. So I walked, battery-less.

I kept going down the main road in front of Conan until I saw a Lawson. Bought a sandwich and asked the girl at the register—she looked about my age—how to get to the Main Plant. She pulled out her phone and showed me the route: go straight, turn right before Sandy supermarket, then turn right again before the police station.

That lifted my spirits. The road ahead didn’t feel as hopeless anymore.

I followed her directions exactly. And on the way, I randomly passed by the factory and office of Kanbayashi Shunsho. Walked into what looked like a shop but no one was there. Felt more like an office than retail. Probably the actual shop is somewhere else.

Kept walking.

Eventually, I found Marukyu Koyamaen Main Plant. At first I wasn’t even sure if it was a shop. Looked like a normal house with a display out front, no staff. There was a sign that said “go right for shop,” so I tried opening the door on the right—locked.

Then a guy standing nearby spoke to me in Singlish:
“If you want to go to the shop, go straight—you’ll find it.”

So I did. And sure enough, found the Marukyu Koyamaen Main Plant.

Inside, I saw a mother and daughter who looked Singaporean. Probably related to the guy I saw earlier. We crossed paths again shortly after at Yamamasa Koyamaen, just a few steps away.

I said hi again, started a bit of conversation. The mom offered me a biscuit she got from Yamamasa and joked with the staff, “sample!” They left, and it was my turn to pay.

But it was cash only. And I didn’t have any.

I asked the staff—later I learned her name was Ebi-san—if I could go withdraw money and come back. She kindly agreed to hold my order.

On the way, I found Morihan. Decided to take a break and got a matcha latte. They used Wakei and cow’s milk. Nicely balanced. Not a fan of cow’s milk myself, but I get the appeal.

I asked the staff how to get to the nearest Seven-Eleven. She told me to go left at the second intersection. I followed that and found it.

Every step of the way, I had to pay attention. Directions sound simple when written out, but on the ground, it’s easy to doubt yourself. I had to remember exactly what was said, or else—oshimai.

Eventually, I got cash and went back to Yamamasa to finish my purchase.

Before leaving, I asked Ebi-san how to get to nearest Station. She led me through a back way—shortcut—and told me to go straight and turn right at the second intersection. I’d see people walking toward the station, so it’d be easy to find.

I did just that. Made it to the Station. Transferred at Kyoto. Then home to Osaka.

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Looking back, I think the biggest takeaway from today’s phone-less half-day is this:

When I don’t have my phone, I talk more. I ask more. I pay more attention.
I notice the road. I remember things.
I look up, not down.
I talk to strangers.
And I get reminded—being disconnected doesn’t mean being lost.
It just means moving differently.

I won’t lie—I was kebakaran jenggot for real right after my phone died. But after that Conan disaster, I gave in to fate. And somehow, everything still worked out.

It’s the same with tea.
When we slow down and unplug, we begin to notice more.
What do you think?