After a week in and around Sapporo I'm writing this from a hot spring village in the Hokkaido mountains. I am staying here for three days before heading south to Osaka to meet up with my friend and colleague Sven. This afternoon there were busloads of tourists but now in the evening all the restaurants are shut, the few streets are empty and there is not a soul to be seen. The only sound is the wind rustling the fallen leaves, oh and the steady hum of drinks dispensers. Someone said that in Japanese towns and villages you are never more than 100 m from a drinks dispenser. Places made for a lot of people just get so oppressively lonely when there aren't any people. Like a football stadium hours before the game.

Most days last week I was just walking around Sapporo. It's a great place for walking, easy to navigate and not too big. There are no spectacular sights, nothing unmissable, but I really enjoyed just looking at people and all the little things that are not quite like at home. And it's just so beautiful with all these autumn colours right now. But most importantly, I've been fortunate enough to meet good people and make some new friends. I never really felt alone and have had more fun than in a long time.

Here are two stories from last week. One from a trip to the Hokkaido mountains and one from a Saturday night in Sapporo.

Last week I made a two-day hike onto the mountains south of Sapporo. There are a few photos from this trip in the album Hokkaido. I had brought a little bottle of whisky and was hoping to spend the evening breaking language barriers in front of a fire place in a little mountain hut. This mountain is really close to Sapporo so I didn't expect that there would be much wildlife, and figured the tracks should be easy to follow.

Finally arriving at the trailhead after missing the bus, there were a couple of signs warning of bears. Perhaps that was just so that people would be alert. You never know. But all the hikers I met during the day had little "bear bells" - that's something they really like here. It's what it sounds like, a little bell that is supposed to alert the bears to your presence so that you don't accidentally run into them. I hadn't gotten a bell, but since there were other many hikers around and I figured I'd be snug in that mountain hut by nightfall anyway it shouldn't be a problem.

The climb was slippery and slow because it had rained a lot the week before. At about two I arrived at the mountain hut, which was more a chalet capable of sleeping probably 60 people. There was no one, but it was early in the day and I figured the Japanese hikers were probably still out enjoying the nice day. By three I set off for the peak, a climb of about an hour forty according to the map. I pushed myself and made it to the peak by four fifteen. Didn't stay long and made good speed descending because it was going to get dark just after five. The undergrowth was really dense and most of the time I could just see the track a few meters ahead. After a while I had a growing feeling that the track was different from when I went up. There should have been a fork pretty close to the peak. The other track leaving the fork wasn't supposed to be maintained. The one I was on looked a little less used than the one I came up on, but it was hard to be sure. I pushed on until I got to a point where it was possible to see the peak I had just climbed, got the compass out and oh yeah, I was definitely not where I should have been. By now it was four forty. By the time I had found the fork and the right track, it was five. There was very little light left and I was looking at a descent that would take an hour in daylight according to the map. I should really have stayed in the hut. It would have been fine if things went according to plan, but then, when do they ever do that when you're out hiking?

Well, at least I had packed a head torch (pannlampa). I put it on and started making my way down slowly, trying very hard not to slip. I had read that hiking after dark in Hokkaido was not a good idea because of the bears. No idea if there were any but that's not the kind of thing you take a chance on when you're on your own. Right, better make some noise. I tried singing but walking down a slippery path and looking out for bears at the same time, that was just too many things at once for my male brain. Håkan Hellström, you probably won't read this, but if you do, please forgive my abuse of your songs! You'll be glad to hear that no one was there to hear.

So singing to keep the bears away was out. But there is one thing that I can do while walking without needing to think about it at all: shouting as when moose driving. Since we were barely teenagers, my brother and I have been hunting with our family in Dalsland. In the beginning, of course we weren't allowed to have a rifle, so sometimes we joined a grown-up on a stakeout and sometimes we were part of the chain of people making noise to make the moose move towards the people with rifles. Everyone makes a different noise when driving. Maybe it comes down to your personality. My mother Ingela makes a "hej och hå" in three separate words. A triple threat to the moose. My call was always a long "heeeeeyop". And so, probably ten years since the last time, in the Hokkaido mountains, I was moose driving. It probably took two hours to get down that mountain and I kept up the "heeeeeeyops" all the way. Not a bear in sight. No moose either.

Arriving back at the hut, it was just as empty as before. Now I felt really alone. Had pushed such thoughts away so that I could focus on getting down the mountain in one non-chewed on piece. I had a quick dip in the lake, made a huge fire in the stove and listened to those Håkan Hellström songs I had tried to sing before. I have never appreciated my mobile phone so much, and music coming out of its crappy little speaker has never sounded so good. By nine I was asleep, and the next day happy to return to civilization.

On Saturday my new friend Lucien was going to take me to his favourite Yakitori place. Lucien is a great guy and I was looking forward to dinner and maybe a Jazz club that Jinmiei, the superfriendly owner of the guest house where I was staying, recommended, not a very late night but good times in good company. Again, my expectations would be proven wrong.

The yakitori place was a small bar in the basement of a multi-storey entertainment complex. Like many places in Sapporo, you have to know it's there and that it's good or you'd miss it. There's a small sign on the building advertising the name but I think that was it. Turns out they didn't even need that. Lucien had made a reservation for six o'clock and was worried they'd give our table to someone else because we were ten minutes late. They only accepted people they knew and they were always full. I thought that was pretty strange but understood once the yakitori arrived. Simple place, no décor, but amazing food. I had never tried grilled liver or grilled stomach skewers before but it was all delicious. The beer and sake that went with it were not all bad either. We met a couple of Lucien's friends and headed out to a tiny lounge bar where you had to take your shoes off at the entrance. That's how it works here in many restaurants but I was surprised to see it in a bar. It wasn't a rowdy place though, more like a place for chatting with friends. My friends ordered some sho-chu (Japanese liquor) drinks that came with some mashed potato salad and we chatted and enjoyed.

We spent the rest of the night in different bars and a karaoke place. I like singing and was keen to try the karaoke thing. I had heard that it's very popular in Japan but that you only go with friends so I didn't really think I'd get a chance to try. The others found a pretty posh place where we got a little room with an excellent sound system. They weren't too keen on singing once we got there though so it didn't really work out so well. I'd like to try again but think if I'm going to sing with friends I'd rather we have a couple of guitars or some crayfish and some aquavit.

At seven in the morning we found ourselves at a fish market on the outskirts of Sapporo, as the others fancied some fresh fish for breakfast. But nothing was open and after wandering around for a while I figured my bed was a more appealing option. We parted and I went to find a taxi. Then it occurred to me that I had spent all the money I had brought on food and Tequila shots. The others were nowhere in sight. There was only one thing to do: walk back to the guest house. Sapporo has numbered streets just like in Manhattan so it was easy to figure out where to go. I was at North 9, West 26 and home at South 5, West 9. Finally getting back to the guesthouse I booked another night and went straight to bed.