Day 12 in Japan and it’s early morning in Matsuyama on the Japanese island of Shikoku.  I’m showered and my hair is washed; I’m nice and clean, and so is my underwear.

That’s because I washed the only three pairs I have (plus the spare for today just in case the other three didn’t dry in time) last night. You see, I’m missing another three or four-I’m not sure exactly how many-but they’re not here with me in Matsuyama. That’s because I left them in the hotel in Kyoto a couple of nights ago.

But I’ll get to the underwear in a minute.

The first time I left my pants in the wrong place was in a hotel room in Portugal just a few months ago–December 26 to be exact, in a small village called Evora. It’s a beautiful old walled town, so we had to leave the tour bus outside the walls and walk for about ten minutes to get to the hotel—truly a beautiful place…especially because the day was foggy and the mist lent an amazing cover to the gardens and the surrounding area.

As I do most evenings when I’m on a trip, I laid out my clothes the night before—leggings and socks, shoes of choice (alternating to avoid sore feet); bra, underpants, and a sweater for the top. Oh, and my all-purpose down vest. With pockets, since the leggings are pocketless. All good. A decent sleep in a nice bed.

The tour company I was with was very well organized; specific instructions to have bags out in the hall by a certain time for porters to take to the bus (all we were responsible for was carry-on). Wake up call 30 minutes before and plenty of time for breakfast. Very civilized.

On this particular morning, wake up was at 6:30 and luggage had to be out by 7. I woke up to the call, spent a little bit of time checking emails and holding an early morning conversation with a new friend on What’s App, and then I hopped into the shower. It was one of those places with a perfect shower and nice big fluffy towels, so I took my time. I wrapped one those amazing towels around me and stepped out of the bathroom and dutifully slid my suitcase out into the hall. I don’t know about you, but I have a morbid fear of the door closing behind me and getting stuck out in the hall in a towel. That said, I did peek out far enough to see other bags waiting pickup, so I knew I was good. Then I took a few minutes—probably to continue my online conversation with my new friend (yes, I guess you could say I was a little preoccupied…or maybe it was the cat sitter or my kid, whatever…). Then I started to dress: underwear first of course, then socks, top and…. wait. Where are my pants?

Black leggings. I know it was black leggings because that’s pretty much what I had brought for this trip. But they were nowhere to be found.

Oh my god, I must have packed them back into the suitcase. I raced to the door and opened it…this time to an empty hallway. Uh oh, and shit.

Of course, this would happen on a day when the bus wasn’t out front. What was I going to do? I couldn’t wear the towel, which was now wrapped around my waist. I didn’t have a big enough jacket to tie around me to cover my legs and my butt—I had the vest, remember? What to do?

By now, it’s 7:15. I sent Daniel, our tour leader, a What’s App message (no, he was not who I was talking to), told him the problem and described my bag. He was quick to respond they hadn’t moved the bags yet; they were still in the lobby. Wait by the room door, he said—the porter would be right up and would wait outside the door while I grabbed what I needed, my wayward leggings. Sure enough, a kid showed up not a minute later with my bag (was he looking amused, or was I just being paranoid?). I met him at the door in my towel-skirt and grabbed the bag, quickly pulled my pants (off the top of the pile) and swapped out my shoes while I was in there. Returned the bag to him and sent him back off back to the lobby. Phew.

Now that would normally be the end of the story. Except I can’t resist a good one and I felt this qualified. By the time we boarded the bus for our next destination, I was being affectionately and humorously referred to as “the one who forgot her pants”. Hey, if you can’t laugh at yourself….

So, you’d think I’d learn, right? Apparently not. In Kyoto last week, I pulled out, along with my clothes and assortment of crap I’ll never use but always bring just in case (note to anyone thinking about going to Japan: every hotel, so far, has provided: toothbrush and paste, razors, a handy folding hair brush, pajamas or a robe, water—usually two bottles, although the water is safe to drink from the tap, and other small and handy  amenities). I had co-opted a laundry bag from an earlier hotel and no doubt tossed that on the spare bed—a bed of lovely white sheets and a matching duvet. Everything blended in, I guess…

…because when I got to my next hotel, the laundry bag was missing. Best guess at what was inside? Maybe a pair of socks, maybe a shirt (although I don’t think so); definitely at least three pairs of underwear.

Now don’t me wrong; these are not precious underwear. I’m a Jockey-gal—especially when I travel—cotton and comfortable is the way I roll. But I had just bought them—maybe worn them once or twice, and, more than anything, it was just the principle of it all. Sure, I could go buy some new, but why not try to track ‘em down?

Here’s another thing you need to know about Japan: this is a very safe society. The crime rate is incredibly low, everywhere, and I‘ve heard stories about people/tourists losing things and people going to extreme lengths to return items. One American told me he lost a (fairly costly) train ticket—couldn’t find it anywhere. He explained to the security officer at the train gate his dilemma and the guy waved him through. A few minutes later, the same officer showed up to the train car where the traveler was sitting and handed him his ticket. They checked closed circuit cameras and saw where he dropped it—and returned it to him. Who does that??! The Japanese.

So, underpants? Why not? I was passing back though Kyoto, so there was the option for me to drop into the hotel if by some chance the pieces were found. I saw three possible scenarios:

• The bag is lost; it’s not in the room. I dropped it on the street? (ha, no), but would they just toss it?
• The bag is found in the room, and my wayward undergarments are returned to me, intact and unwashed;
• My pieces are waiting for me at the hotel’s front desk, cleaned and neatly packaged.

So, I had our guide, a delightful guy who goes by the name of Rei (or Moon-his Shinto name) make a call to the hotel. What I can tell you so far is that the laundry bag was found, and I can pick up my missing laundry in a few days when I’m back in Kyoto. The big question: clean, or dirty? What do you think? I’ll post an update once I know.

One thing I do know for sure is that I need to be more careful about where I put my pants.

Update: The lost undergarments (three sad pairs of new-ish underwear-nothing more, nothing less) were returned to me in their original bag, wrapped in another bag and in a plain manila envelope (God forbid anyone should see my dirty laundry–that’s up to me to expose. Apparently.). They were not washed. Rei explained that many people would not want to have items returned in another state than when there were misplaced. So once I had them back, it was a sink laundry wash for me that night. No matter, I got them back, along with a story to tell. And I’ll try not to do it again.