J139 Saturday September 8th
Forgot to mention: I chose the earlier option of my two renewal dates. My contract will finish on May 28th, 2008. I'm not sure of my immediate plans after my contract is complete, but more than likely they will involve a plane and America.
Saturday was a bit of an inverse to Friday. I had 5 classes scheduled, but I wound up teaching 6. No biggie, really; I'm used to Saturdays being packed and exhausting. After work I stopped by Ito Yokado and picked up a tremendous volume of food. Milk, juice, tea, cereal, lots of veggies, tofu, and a few healthy snacks (yogurt, raisin bread rolls, cheese). I cooked a delicious, filling dinner and got caught up on the acclaimed machinima series Red Vs. Blue. I'd watched the first three seasons, but after they started season 4 I lost track. I'd found a torrent with almost every episode, excluding the last 5 or 6 episodes, and had been watching them at night.
After my dinner had digested, and I'd watched nearly all of the RvB on my machine, I pedaled my way down to G-Bros. Bostian, a visiting professor at Ibaraki University and a Slovenian by birth, was having his farewell party that night, and had invited the gang out for revelry and song. I was feeling pretty drained, from the combined stresses of both Friday and Saturday, so I didn't join the karaoke group that was forming. Still, I had a few drinks and bid Bostian a fond farewell. He was a pleasant fellow, always smiling and cheerful, and I miss him now that he's gone.
J140 Sunday September 9th
Y'know, soon, I'm going to be out of catch-up material :)
Today was a day of much slack. I woke up for Gurren Lagann again, which was wonderful and action-packed. The morning half of my day was quite lazy, but towards noon I got in touch with Josh. He had missed the character creation session earlier, and we plotted to meet for lunch and discussion. I met him at Hitachi Station, so very convenient.
We walked 'round downtown Hitachi a while, just talking and geeking out. We sat a while at the plaza and discussed his character, but soon our conversation turned to other things. K showed up briefly on his bike, but was soon off to study and talk with Sylvia. Josh and I investigated the possibility of lunching at Namaste, an Indian restaurant that is perpetually closed. We sauntered across the big loop parking lot out front of the station, and were unsurprised to find Namaste locked up tight. No matter when someone tries to go, it is always closed. It doesn't look boarded up, but we've never seen it open.
We settled for Baskin Robins instead. It was the first ice cream I'd had in a while...months if I recall correctly. It was quite good. I had...something chocolaty, I think. I had a bit of a sugar buzz.
We decided to head to Wonder Goo, that place of media whimsy. A quick southerly train ride found us in Hitachi-Taga, and after a quick jaunt, we found ourselves entering the store of our dreams. One thing I will note about this particular Wonder Goo; it has an odd odor. Imagine warm humus, perhaps atop a warm slice of pita bread, left to sit in a warm place for an hour or so. It's not unpleasant, but it's very distinct and noticeable.
We browsed the racks of used media. Josh found a few items, though nothing jumped out at me. I saw my first in-store advertisement for Halo 3, renewing my on-again-off-again inner monologue on purchasing the game (and the system to run it).
After the Goo, Josh and I were feeling a bit hungry. Our lunch was several hours behind us, and we both were in the mood for good eats. Josh knew the way, on foot, to a Mos Burger, sort of like a McDonalds, but if the food was slightly better tasting and not as greasy. Also, it's a sit-down restaurant, rather than a fast-food joint. You just...order burgers and fries. Japan is weird. We both dined on chili-dogs, surprisingly delicious given the Japanese inability to properly emulate Western food. Over our spicy dinners we discussed character back ground and history.
After finishing dinner we headed to Josh's place. I hadn't been in a while, and further character creation required a computer. A long-ish train ride found us in Ogitsu, Josh's town of residence, and an invigorating walk found us at his place. I was happy to see it was about as junky as my own apartment; it was reassuring to find another person okay with living in dusty, cluttered bliss.
I introduced Josh to Red Blade, a D&D character generator program of impressive power and grace. We worked on his character throughout the evening, pausing to consume hilarious media. I had introduced Josh to the Berserk Abridged video series on YouTube. He had discovered the abridged series of Avatar, Yu Gi Oh (the original abridged series, and arguably the best), and Naruto. We watched these and more as the evening went on. We finished his character and started the walk back to the station; the last train was scheduled to depart Ogistu station around 10:40. We got there by 10:20 and learned that the train was delayed, and wouldn't be in the station for another hour. We walked to a near(ish)by conbini and purchased a late night snack. We continued our geek-fueled conversation until it was time to leave, and we bid one another farewell.
I do so love riding the trains at night. Japan isn't on the Daylight Savings Time system, so one becomes very aware of the changing day and night cycle of the Earth. Night has begun to fall earlier and earlier, and by 7 it was pitch-black. The trains cut through the darkness, speeding along their tracks very quietly, deceptively so given their bulk. They wind like snakes through grass, casting warm light wherever they go. You can see the shadowy outlines of mountains through the darkness, backlit by stars or by the moon. Clouds are awash in contrasting night-darkness and moon light, making a dramatic sky show of muted color.
My ride is too short. I wish I could ride a night-train for longer, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. I rode my bike back home and fell into bed, tired by happy. The day had been a good one.
Monday, September 24, 2007
*yawn*
J134 Monday September 3rd
I was up early, as I had much to do and little time to do it. Today was to be the first meeting of my D&D group, and I had to prepare. First, I cleaned just about all of my apartment. There was the chance that one of the players would need crash space, and I had offered my couch. I wanted to be sure he wouldn't be horrified of the...state of things.
I am not a filthy person, but being a single male does make me adopt a...shall we say lackadaisical attitude when it comes to housekeeping. I scrapped off the big chunks, though, and made my abode presentable.
I grabbed a quick shower and headed off to the station, there to meet up with everyone. I met K and Masaki, the D&D enthusiast I'd met nearly two months prior in front of Sakura City. After a little while, the third member of the group, Nick, arrived. He lives in Tokyo, so his commute is a bit of a killer. K was very kind and offered us his class room at his work place to game at. There were no regular classes that day, and the space would be perfect for our needs. The group trekked to Ito Yokado and procured lunch, myself getting a okonomiyaki (think a pizza...made from an omelette).
The session of the day was to be character creation. For those of you who have never played a tabletop role-playing game, there's one thing you have to have, and that is a character. It's usually beneficial to group harmony if everyone makes their characters at the same time, so as to have a good spread of powers and abilities, and so that two characters don't step on anyone's toes. This session was just that, brainstorming and helping one another with crafting complimentary, well-rounded characters.
I'd brought my laptop, equipped as it was with numerous gaming resources, which greatly helped the creation process for the gathered players. We planned and schemed for a few hours, myself giving a short lecture on the world. The big white board in the room proved to be the perfect gaming accessory, and was quickly filled with a rough map of the game world.
Toward the end of the meeting, Masaki received word that his father had taken ill and was going to the hospital. Apparently he had been under the effects of some malady for some time, but Masaki wanted to be with him when he got to the hospital, so he had to bid the group farewell for the day. As a parting gift, he left us with his hand-bound copies of the D&D Player's Handbook. A most generous loan.
The time was nearing for the weekly Japanese lesson, so the group took a hiatus. Josh was planning on meeting us after the lesson concluded, for another round of creation and brainstorming. Nick was content to wander town for a while, shopping at Yokado whilst K and I taught the lesson. The new teachers, Jo Ann and Candice, joined us, and I was put in charge of helping them with the basics. I surprise myself with how much Japanese I remember. I know I would be much better at the language if I practiced more. K is a study-holic, and it shows. Me, not so much.
We worked on the basics for a few hours, and before we knew it the lesson was over. K and I met up with Nick, and we lead the whole group around Ito Yokado. Up and down the escalators we traipsed, browsing (mostly) everything the department store had to offer. When we tired of window shopping we headed over to Sakura City. It was around this time that I received a message from Josh; he had had a difficult and exhausting day at work, and needed to sleep. I replied with sympathy and told him we'd do a creation session at a later date.
The group walked to Sakura City through the quickly fading sunlight. The sun had set while we were in Yokado, and the last rays of sunshine were painting the clouds a dramatic hemorrhage of purples and reds. We paced and window shopped all throughout Sakura City, marveling at the myriad of styles and accessories to choose from. Japanese fashion can be very dramatic and cosmopolitan, even as far out in the sticks as Hitachi is. Emphasis is placed on abstract or stylistic clothing, rather than functional stuff. As a stickler for utility, I don't look very stylish, though the same could have been said when I lived in the States.
The evening was drawing to a close, and Nick was nearing the deadline for his last train home. We bid him farewell as he headed down the escalators and out the building. The rest of us stayed in S.C. a while longer, but left once we realized the place was closing.
K and I took the girls to G-Bros. Some of the gang were there when we got there, and we had a jolly time. I treated the new teachers to Apple Pie Gyoza, a delicious desert that is a testament to Hiro's (bartender and head chef of G-Bros.) ingenuity and culinary genius. The girls were skeptical at first, but their fears were allayed thanks to the fried goodness that is Hiro's Apple Pie, Japan-style. Just like Mom used to make...in an alternate dimension.
Those of the gang present got it in them to go bowling. I myself was quite tired after the events of the day, and called it a night. Home was a quick bike-ride away, and soon I was closing the evening with my customary internet time.
J135 Tuesday September 4th
Only two classes today! I occupied my time by assembling materials for our weekly news discussion class and folding a tremendous volume of fliers. Today was my deadline for deciding about my contract. I settled on a 3-month extension, ending in the first week of June. At the last minute, before I could go home, I had to write a short essay on why I had decided to renew for only 3 months, rather than a year.
J136 Wednesday September 5th
Only 3 classes today. Folded even more stuff today. My manager informed me that the date I had selected was incompatible with my company's hiring schedule. I had to select a date that was either earlier or later. I was given the choice of June 16th or May 28th. I have until Friday the 7th to decide.
J137 Thursday September 6th
Another 3-class day. I feel rather bad, having gotten only interrupted sleep the night before. Special classes are in two weeks, and I must needs prepare for them. My schedule has no fewer than 6 classes for tomorrow, the 7th. Karma for the light beginning of my week.
The latest typhoon blew in today, late in the evening. I managed to sleep through most of it, but I was woken up several times through the night due to sudden gusts of wind. These gales (and I do not use the term lightly) were strong enough to set my entire apartment building rocking back and forth. Not enough to endanger its occupants, you must understand, but enough so as to register on one's unconscious threat-detector.
J138 Friday September 7th
A near-Saturday day of class density, with a whopping 6 classes scheduled for today. I worked through them all, though I was saved by a total student cancellation in the evening, giving me an hour's rest before the final push. I felt bad all day due to the oft-interrupted sleep I had gotten the night before.
One of my students offered to take me to a town a few hours away. She said the town is known for its pottery. She wants to take me and another student next-next Monday, the 17th.
Another of my students, a new girl who started today, is very much an anime/manga fan. Not every student I have is a fan of comic culture, but enough of them are to make life interesting. My student and I compared our favorite moments in several of our favorite series. We both were big Naruto fans, which is always a hoot to discover.
The week was almost over. The next day, Saturday, would be...draining...but that's a story for another night. I'm a little spent from the day's activities, but I'll endeavor to complete this week's entries tomrorow.
I was up early, as I had much to do and little time to do it. Today was to be the first meeting of my D&D group, and I had to prepare. First, I cleaned just about all of my apartment. There was the chance that one of the players would need crash space, and I had offered my couch. I wanted to be sure he wouldn't be horrified of the...state of things.
I am not a filthy person, but being a single male does make me adopt a...shall we say lackadaisical attitude when it comes to housekeeping. I scrapped off the big chunks, though, and made my abode presentable.
I grabbed a quick shower and headed off to the station, there to meet up with everyone. I met K and Masaki, the D&D enthusiast I'd met nearly two months prior in front of Sakura City. After a little while, the third member of the group, Nick, arrived. He lives in Tokyo, so his commute is a bit of a killer. K was very kind and offered us his class room at his work place to game at. There were no regular classes that day, and the space would be perfect for our needs. The group trekked to Ito Yokado and procured lunch, myself getting a okonomiyaki (think a pizza...made from an omelette).
The session of the day was to be character creation. For those of you who have never played a tabletop role-playing game, there's one thing you have to have, and that is a character. It's usually beneficial to group harmony if everyone makes their characters at the same time, so as to have a good spread of powers and abilities, and so that two characters don't step on anyone's toes. This session was just that, brainstorming and helping one another with crafting complimentary, well-rounded characters.
I'd brought my laptop, equipped as it was with numerous gaming resources, which greatly helped the creation process for the gathered players. We planned and schemed for a few hours, myself giving a short lecture on the world. The big white board in the room proved to be the perfect gaming accessory, and was quickly filled with a rough map of the game world.
Toward the end of the meeting, Masaki received word that his father had taken ill and was going to the hospital. Apparently he had been under the effects of some malady for some time, but Masaki wanted to be with him when he got to the hospital, so he had to bid the group farewell for the day. As a parting gift, he left us with his hand-bound copies of the D&D Player's Handbook. A most generous loan.
The time was nearing for the weekly Japanese lesson, so the group took a hiatus. Josh was planning on meeting us after the lesson concluded, for another round of creation and brainstorming. Nick was content to wander town for a while, shopping at Yokado whilst K and I taught the lesson. The new teachers, Jo Ann and Candice, joined us, and I was put in charge of helping them with the basics. I surprise myself with how much Japanese I remember. I know I would be much better at the language if I practiced more. K is a study-holic, and it shows. Me, not so much.
We worked on the basics for a few hours, and before we knew it the lesson was over. K and I met up with Nick, and we lead the whole group around Ito Yokado. Up and down the escalators we traipsed, browsing (mostly) everything the department store had to offer. When we tired of window shopping we headed over to Sakura City. It was around this time that I received a message from Josh; he had had a difficult and exhausting day at work, and needed to sleep. I replied with sympathy and told him we'd do a creation session at a later date.
The group walked to Sakura City through the quickly fading sunlight. The sun had set while we were in Yokado, and the last rays of sunshine were painting the clouds a dramatic hemorrhage of purples and reds. We paced and window shopped all throughout Sakura City, marveling at the myriad of styles and accessories to choose from. Japanese fashion can be very dramatic and cosmopolitan, even as far out in the sticks as Hitachi is. Emphasis is placed on abstract or stylistic clothing, rather than functional stuff. As a stickler for utility, I don't look very stylish, though the same could have been said when I lived in the States.
The evening was drawing to a close, and Nick was nearing the deadline for his last train home. We bid him farewell as he headed down the escalators and out the building. The rest of us stayed in S.C. a while longer, but left once we realized the place was closing.
K and I took the girls to G-Bros. Some of the gang were there when we got there, and we had a jolly time. I treated the new teachers to Apple Pie Gyoza, a delicious desert that is a testament to Hiro's (bartender and head chef of G-Bros.) ingenuity and culinary genius. The girls were skeptical at first, but their fears were allayed thanks to the fried goodness that is Hiro's Apple Pie, Japan-style. Just like Mom used to make...in an alternate dimension.
Those of the gang present got it in them to go bowling. I myself was quite tired after the events of the day, and called it a night. Home was a quick bike-ride away, and soon I was closing the evening with my customary internet time.
J135 Tuesday September 4th
Only two classes today! I occupied my time by assembling materials for our weekly news discussion class and folding a tremendous volume of fliers. Today was my deadline for deciding about my contract. I settled on a 3-month extension, ending in the first week of June. At the last minute, before I could go home, I had to write a short essay on why I had decided to renew for only 3 months, rather than a year.
J136 Wednesday September 5th
Only 3 classes today. Folded even more stuff today. My manager informed me that the date I had selected was incompatible with my company's hiring schedule. I had to select a date that was either earlier or later. I was given the choice of June 16th or May 28th. I have until Friday the 7th to decide.
J137 Thursday September 6th
Another 3-class day. I feel rather bad, having gotten only interrupted sleep the night before. Special classes are in two weeks, and I must needs prepare for them. My schedule has no fewer than 6 classes for tomorrow, the 7th. Karma for the light beginning of my week.
The latest typhoon blew in today, late in the evening. I managed to sleep through most of it, but I was woken up several times through the night due to sudden gusts of wind. These gales (and I do not use the term lightly) were strong enough to set my entire apartment building rocking back and forth. Not enough to endanger its occupants, you must understand, but enough so as to register on one's unconscious threat-detector.
J138 Friday September 7th
A near-Saturday day of class density, with a whopping 6 classes scheduled for today. I worked through them all, though I was saved by a total student cancellation in the evening, giving me an hour's rest before the final push. I felt bad all day due to the oft-interrupted sleep I had gotten the night before.
One of my students offered to take me to a town a few hours away. She said the town is known for its pottery. She wants to take me and another student next-next Monday, the 17th.
Another of my students, a new girl who started today, is very much an anime/manga fan. Not every student I have is a fan of comic culture, but enough of them are to make life interesting. My student and I compared our favorite moments in several of our favorite series. We both were big Naruto fans, which is always a hoot to discover.
The week was almost over. The next day, Saturday, would be...draining...but that's a story for another night. I'm a little spent from the day's activities, but I'll endeavor to complete this week's entries tomrorow.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Fun week! After a bumpy start...
J128 Tuesday August 28th
I forgot to mention last time that, while in Ueno station, I purchased a few books. I found a book shop one level up from where my train waited, and I had some time after acquiring my badly-needed cash. I purchased a novel by Haruki Murakami, a Japanese author that I've enjoyed before, and a copy of Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse 5. I've never read any of Vonnegut's work. My American coworker is quite the bibliophile, and I've felt rather underexposed to the classics of literature from my home nation (and abroad), so I picked them both up. Besides, by that time I had exhausted most of the literature at my apartment, and I was hurting for a good fix.
Anyway.
Tuesday morning I awoke, amazingly sore but quite alive and well. I had fallen asleep almost instantly the night before, and had gotten a good 8 hours of sleep.
The previous week, my coworker, M-sensei, recommended I watch a movie. He had watched it on the Internet, the film being available in its entirety for free. It is called Zeitgeist, and it is about three conspiracy theories. The first is a fascinating exploration of Christ as a mythological/historical figure. The third is a spooky look at the World Bank. The second one was what...colored my day. It was about the September 11th attacks.
In all honesty, I hadn't thought much about that day...ever. I remember where I was when it happened; the morning's events are quite clear in my mind. I remember the fear and ill-ease that swept through me. But through it all, and my subsequent consumption of media relating to it afterwards, I was never deeply *disturbed* by it. I knew that it was a tragedy, and felt sorrow and loss for those families most directly affected by it. But until I saw this film, I had never felt true horror toward the act.
I had left my bike at the station the night before, and thus had no quick way to get myself to work. I left a little late and walked to work. I was afraid I wasn't going to make it, and thus I sprung into a light jog. My muscles complained at first, but I soon fell into a rhythm that was sustainable. My legs worked out some of their soreness as I ran. I drew air deep into my lungs an then pushed it out completely, emptying them in a breathing technique E.J. had shown me once. Every deep breath enriched my blood with oxygen, and I felt quite invigorated. At the end of my jog I was quite near my workplace, and I marveled at my fitness. I wasn't winded. I was breathing deeply, to be sure, but I wasn't a sweating wreck. I looked back at my path, hardly believing I had actually run that far.
The day's work was thankfully light. I had only 4 classes with an ample break between my morning and evening assignments. That evening I rode my bike back, my legs once again complaining but soon quieting as their kinks were worked out.
At home I once again scoured the Internet for information on the days of September 11th. It was like...a magnet. I couldn't stop myself. At 3AM I spread my futon, desperate for sleep, but found that I couldn't reach a mental quietude. I tossed and turned, and finally did the one thing I knew I needed to do. I called my Mom. Or, more accurately, I asked that she call me.
We talked for the better part of 30 minutes. I told her of what I'd seen, of how it had affected me. She listened, and offered her own advice. Her voice, though, was the true balm to my hurts. It's funny, being grown up now, how soothing a mother's voice can be. Not just any mother, my mother. To call her a pillar of strength is a vast understatement, akin to commenting that space is big. I big her good night and drifted off to a peaceful slumber.
J129 Wednesday August 29th
I slept until 10:30AM on Wednesday. I felt quite rested and refreshed, and the events of the previous day did not weigh heavily on my mind. As always, I struggle to leave my apartment on time, and was almost late again. I sped to work on my bike, meeting my first student for the day as I rode in. I bid him farewell as I peddled to work, and managed to get to my company before he did. The rest of the day was uneventful; a perfectly normal work day. I caught my paper journal up to the day after my first class. My D&D game was slowly getting more and more organized, thanks to my creation of a Google Group (terribly useful, those) and a few emails that had been sent whence.
J130 Thursday August 30th
I realized today that the new Evangelion movie premieres Saturday, September 1st. I am so going to see it this weekend. Happy day!
J131 Friday August 31st
Friday night, after another uneventful day of work, I installed Dungeon Runners. Dungeon Runners is a free MMO developed by Richard Garriot's brother. It's essentially an updated Diablo II clone, but it handles the genre with a very humorous tone. The item names, randomly generated, are laugh-out-loud funny, and the gameplay is well balanced. It's a solid little game. There is an option to pay $5 a month for extra features, including the ability to equip some of the better items of the game, but it's quite playable for free.
I also learned that two new teachers would be arriving on Saturday, and that a plan was in the works for a beach BBQ to welcome them.
J132 Saturday September 1st
My excitement about the new Evangelion movie grows with every passing hour. The day's classes, a massive stream of 7 classes, passes quickly with the knowledge that tomorrow will rock face. Part of my lessons involve a warm up, with my default question being weekend plans. I include my own as a conversation starter, and this week was no different. My students were surprised that I was going to see the movie, even though it would lack subtitles. One of my new students was delighted; himself a big Evangelion fan.
That night I logged a few more hours playing Dungeon Runners. I went out for my customary drink at G-Bros that night, but since nothing big was going on, I didn't stay more than two hours. I got to sleep at a reasonable 1AM.
J133 Sunday September 2nd
I woke up leisurely, browsing the Internets as is my custom. I found the website of the theater I'd be attending, and discovered two showings that would be perfect. One was at 2:40PM, the next at 4:50PM. I planned to attend the 2:40 showing.
During my morning I watched the week's episode of Gurren Lagann, the latest TV serial from Gainax, on broadcast TV. I've been following the series via fansubbers online, but the chance to watch it real-time was too great to pass up. That it comes on Sunday mornings right when I normally get up was too good to be true.
Alas, the train schedule is an unpredictable beast. I got to the station at 1:45, reasoning that the 30-minute train ride would begin near the top of the hour. I got to the station with mere minutes to spare, though, as the next train was departing around 1:48. I hastily purchased a light lunch (riceballs, yay!) and dashed to the platform. I enjoyed the sunlight-soaked day as the train trundled southward, munching my onigiri and washing it down with tea.
The train gods didn't smile on me, though, and I found myself being delivered to the station at 2:35. I dashed to the movie theater, cursing my choice of flip-flops for the day's footwear. I purchased a ticket and hurried to the theater, stuffing my backpack with all of the gear that filled my pockets. I silenced my phone, and walked into the dark theater. I was lucky; the previews were still going on.
The theater was packed. There was hardly any room, but luckily my seat was near the aisles. I settled in to my seat and was bathed in the cool glow of the silver screen. I saw the trailer for the new CG Appleseed movie, which looks awesome. A trailer for a jidaigeki (samurai period-piece) anime, Sword of the Stranger, was next. Looked interesting. After the trailers ended the lights dimmed to darkness. For a second the theater was pitch-black. Not a sound was to be heard in the acoustically absorbent room. Then, without preamble, a simple title came up. Red on a black background, the card merely read: "New Evangelion" in Japanese.
For the sake of those who do not wish to be spoiled, I will not discuss the particulars. The film was, in a word, excellent. It was a retelling of the first 4 or 5 episodes of the Neon Genesis Evangelion anime series, one of my favorite works of animation of all time. The characters were well-acted, the animation top-notch. The fight scenes were stunning. The sound was a significant factor of the film, with emotionally or thematically intense events being coupled with especially sweetened sound. Screams of rage or pain and the sounds of battle were clear and powerful.
I left the movie theater with a smile on my face. The film was simply amazing, and I was quite happy with the work Gainax, the film's creators, had produced. It was now nearing 5PM, and I decided to do some leisure shopping before the festivities of the evening. I took the train back toward Hitachi, but stopped one station south of the town. I walked in the fading light of day north, arriving at the mini nerd heaven of Wonder Goo and K's Denki. I perused both stores for a while, purchasing a USB game pad for my PC. Some of my games required such an input device, and I had none.
I decided to walk back to Hitachi, rather than catch a train. I set off north, walking along the roads that connected the towns and villages of the Ibaraki prefecture like veins. I passed factories, houses, office buildings, and schools. I stopped in to a large grocery store and picked up a few morsels for the evening's cookout. I arrived at my house not long after, but decided to keep walking to the station, where my bike awaited me.
Nearly an hour after I started walking from K's Denki, I arrived at the train station. I hopped on my bike and peddled down to the beach, where the party was beginning.
I arrived after most of the others, but nothing had truly started yet. I added my food, bread, hamburg patties, and some dango for desert, to the immense pile of consumables. I met the new teachers, both working for Amity, my company's sister school. One, Candice, was from Cleveland, Ohio, while the other, Jo Ann, was from New York City. They had gotten to the town literally that morning, and were still a little overwhelmed at everything.
I assisted with the fire and cooking, sitting in the sand alongside Matt as we tried to coax our little grill to life. Matt and M-sensei had managed to get a fire going, but it refused to stay lit. We did our best, though, grilling as much meat as we could, but after an hour and a half the fire had died out to embers. Everyone had managed to procure food, though, so no one was left hungry.
One of the party goers had had a bit too much spirits, and I assisted a few in getting her to her apartment, which was luckily nearby. That signaled the end of festivities for me. When I returned to the beach the fire had been all but extinguished, and I gathered up my things. The group wanted to explore the lighthouse, a tiny tower perched atop a concrete sea break, but I had had enough excitement for one day. One of the Japanese teachers from Amity was walking home, and I accompanied her, bringing my uncooked hamburg with me in my bike's basket.
We walked mostly in silence, talking about work and the future. I've come to realize that many people in Japan really aren't happy with their jobs. Businessmen, Office Ladies, Engineers...they all wish they were doing something else. It sort of makes me glad that I'm not going to be here forever, and that I'll be heading back to school (if all goes according to plan).
After I finished walking the Japanese teacher home, I bid her farewell and set out on my bike for my own apartment. I love taking the unlit backroads home, especially the ones that take me past the big shrine. There is something otherworldly about the darkness that pools around the raised earthwork the shrine is built upon, and it always fills me with peace when I pass by.
Upon returning home, I deposit my spoilables in the freezer, knock the sand from myself with a quick shower, and head to bed. The first meeting of the D&D group was the next day, and I there was much I needed to do to prepare.
I forgot to mention last time that, while in Ueno station, I purchased a few books. I found a book shop one level up from where my train waited, and I had some time after acquiring my badly-needed cash. I purchased a novel by Haruki Murakami, a Japanese author that I've enjoyed before, and a copy of Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse 5. I've never read any of Vonnegut's work. My American coworker is quite the bibliophile, and I've felt rather underexposed to the classics of literature from my home nation (and abroad), so I picked them both up. Besides, by that time I had exhausted most of the literature at my apartment, and I was hurting for a good fix.
Anyway.
Tuesday morning I awoke, amazingly sore but quite alive and well. I had fallen asleep almost instantly the night before, and had gotten a good 8 hours of sleep.
The previous week, my coworker, M-sensei, recommended I watch a movie. He had watched it on the Internet, the film being available in its entirety for free. It is called Zeitgeist, and it is about three conspiracy theories. The first is a fascinating exploration of Christ as a mythological/historical figure. The third is a spooky look at the World Bank. The second one was what...colored my day. It was about the September 11th attacks.
In all honesty, I hadn't thought much about that day...ever. I remember where I was when it happened; the morning's events are quite clear in my mind. I remember the fear and ill-ease that swept through me. But through it all, and my subsequent consumption of media relating to it afterwards, I was never deeply *disturbed* by it. I knew that it was a tragedy, and felt sorrow and loss for those families most directly affected by it. But until I saw this film, I had never felt true horror toward the act.
I had left my bike at the station the night before, and thus had no quick way to get myself to work. I left a little late and walked to work. I was afraid I wasn't going to make it, and thus I sprung into a light jog. My muscles complained at first, but I soon fell into a rhythm that was sustainable. My legs worked out some of their soreness as I ran. I drew air deep into my lungs an then pushed it out completely, emptying them in a breathing technique E.J. had shown me once. Every deep breath enriched my blood with oxygen, and I felt quite invigorated. At the end of my jog I was quite near my workplace, and I marveled at my fitness. I wasn't winded. I was breathing deeply, to be sure, but I wasn't a sweating wreck. I looked back at my path, hardly believing I had actually run that far.
The day's work was thankfully light. I had only 4 classes with an ample break between my morning and evening assignments. That evening I rode my bike back, my legs once again complaining but soon quieting as their kinks were worked out.
At home I once again scoured the Internet for information on the days of September 11th. It was like...a magnet. I couldn't stop myself. At 3AM I spread my futon, desperate for sleep, but found that I couldn't reach a mental quietude. I tossed and turned, and finally did the one thing I knew I needed to do. I called my Mom. Or, more accurately, I asked that she call me.
We talked for the better part of 30 minutes. I told her of what I'd seen, of how it had affected me. She listened, and offered her own advice. Her voice, though, was the true balm to my hurts. It's funny, being grown up now, how soothing a mother's voice can be. Not just any mother, my mother. To call her a pillar of strength is a vast understatement, akin to commenting that space is big. I big her good night and drifted off to a peaceful slumber.
J129 Wednesday August 29th
I slept until 10:30AM on Wednesday. I felt quite rested and refreshed, and the events of the previous day did not weigh heavily on my mind. As always, I struggle to leave my apartment on time, and was almost late again. I sped to work on my bike, meeting my first student for the day as I rode in. I bid him farewell as I peddled to work, and managed to get to my company before he did. The rest of the day was uneventful; a perfectly normal work day. I caught my paper journal up to the day after my first class. My D&D game was slowly getting more and more organized, thanks to my creation of a Google Group (terribly useful, those) and a few emails that had been sent whence.
J130 Thursday August 30th
I realized today that the new Evangelion movie premieres Saturday, September 1st. I am so going to see it this weekend. Happy day!
J131 Friday August 31st
Friday night, after another uneventful day of work, I installed Dungeon Runners. Dungeon Runners is a free MMO developed by Richard Garriot's brother. It's essentially an updated Diablo II clone, but it handles the genre with a very humorous tone. The item names, randomly generated, are laugh-out-loud funny, and the gameplay is well balanced. It's a solid little game. There is an option to pay $5 a month for extra features, including the ability to equip some of the better items of the game, but it's quite playable for free.
I also learned that two new teachers would be arriving on Saturday, and that a plan was in the works for a beach BBQ to welcome them.
J132 Saturday September 1st
My excitement about the new Evangelion movie grows with every passing hour. The day's classes, a massive stream of 7 classes, passes quickly with the knowledge that tomorrow will rock face. Part of my lessons involve a warm up, with my default question being weekend plans. I include my own as a conversation starter, and this week was no different. My students were surprised that I was going to see the movie, even though it would lack subtitles. One of my new students was delighted; himself a big Evangelion fan.
That night I logged a few more hours playing Dungeon Runners. I went out for my customary drink at G-Bros that night, but since nothing big was going on, I didn't stay more than two hours. I got to sleep at a reasonable 1AM.
J133 Sunday September 2nd
I woke up leisurely, browsing the Internets as is my custom. I found the website of the theater I'd be attending, and discovered two showings that would be perfect. One was at 2:40PM, the next at 4:50PM. I planned to attend the 2:40 showing.
During my morning I watched the week's episode of Gurren Lagann, the latest TV serial from Gainax, on broadcast TV. I've been following the series via fansubbers online, but the chance to watch it real-time was too great to pass up. That it comes on Sunday mornings right when I normally get up was too good to be true.
Alas, the train schedule is an unpredictable beast. I got to the station at 1:45, reasoning that the 30-minute train ride would begin near the top of the hour. I got to the station with mere minutes to spare, though, as the next train was departing around 1:48. I hastily purchased a light lunch (riceballs, yay!) and dashed to the platform. I enjoyed the sunlight-soaked day as the train trundled southward, munching my onigiri and washing it down with tea.
The train gods didn't smile on me, though, and I found myself being delivered to the station at 2:35. I dashed to the movie theater, cursing my choice of flip-flops for the day's footwear. I purchased a ticket and hurried to the theater, stuffing my backpack with all of the gear that filled my pockets. I silenced my phone, and walked into the dark theater. I was lucky; the previews were still going on.
The theater was packed. There was hardly any room, but luckily my seat was near the aisles. I settled in to my seat and was bathed in the cool glow of the silver screen. I saw the trailer for the new CG Appleseed movie, which looks awesome. A trailer for a jidaigeki (samurai period-piece) anime, Sword of the Stranger, was next. Looked interesting. After the trailers ended the lights dimmed to darkness. For a second the theater was pitch-black. Not a sound was to be heard in the acoustically absorbent room. Then, without preamble, a simple title came up. Red on a black background, the card merely read: "New Evangelion" in Japanese.
For the sake of those who do not wish to be spoiled, I will not discuss the particulars. The film was, in a word, excellent. It was a retelling of the first 4 or 5 episodes of the Neon Genesis Evangelion anime series, one of my favorite works of animation of all time. The characters were well-acted, the animation top-notch. The fight scenes were stunning. The sound was a significant factor of the film, with emotionally or thematically intense events being coupled with especially sweetened sound. Screams of rage or pain and the sounds of battle were clear and powerful.
I left the movie theater with a smile on my face. The film was simply amazing, and I was quite happy with the work Gainax, the film's creators, had produced. It was now nearing 5PM, and I decided to do some leisure shopping before the festivities of the evening. I took the train back toward Hitachi, but stopped one station south of the town. I walked in the fading light of day north, arriving at the mini nerd heaven of Wonder Goo and K's Denki. I perused both stores for a while, purchasing a USB game pad for my PC. Some of my games required such an input device, and I had none.
I decided to walk back to Hitachi, rather than catch a train. I set off north, walking along the roads that connected the towns and villages of the Ibaraki prefecture like veins. I passed factories, houses, office buildings, and schools. I stopped in to a large grocery store and picked up a few morsels for the evening's cookout. I arrived at my house not long after, but decided to keep walking to the station, where my bike awaited me.
Nearly an hour after I started walking from K's Denki, I arrived at the train station. I hopped on my bike and peddled down to the beach, where the party was beginning.
I arrived after most of the others, but nothing had truly started yet. I added my food, bread, hamburg patties, and some dango for desert, to the immense pile of consumables. I met the new teachers, both working for Amity, my company's sister school. One, Candice, was from Cleveland, Ohio, while the other, Jo Ann, was from New York City. They had gotten to the town literally that morning, and were still a little overwhelmed at everything.
I assisted with the fire and cooking, sitting in the sand alongside Matt as we tried to coax our little grill to life. Matt and M-sensei had managed to get a fire going, but it refused to stay lit. We did our best, though, grilling as much meat as we could, but after an hour and a half the fire had died out to embers. Everyone had managed to procure food, though, so no one was left hungry.
One of the party goers had had a bit too much spirits, and I assisted a few in getting her to her apartment, which was luckily nearby. That signaled the end of festivities for me. When I returned to the beach the fire had been all but extinguished, and I gathered up my things. The group wanted to explore the lighthouse, a tiny tower perched atop a concrete sea break, but I had had enough excitement for one day. One of the Japanese teachers from Amity was walking home, and I accompanied her, bringing my uncooked hamburg with me in my bike's basket.
We walked mostly in silence, talking about work and the future. I've come to realize that many people in Japan really aren't happy with their jobs. Businessmen, Office Ladies, Engineers...they all wish they were doing something else. It sort of makes me glad that I'm not going to be here forever, and that I'll be heading back to school (if all goes according to plan).
After I finished walking the Japanese teacher home, I bid her farewell and set out on my bike for my own apartment. I love taking the unlit backroads home, especially the ones that take me past the big shrine. There is something otherworldly about the darkness that pools around the raised earthwork the shrine is built upon, and it always fills me with peace when I pass by.
Upon returning home, I deposit my spoilables in the freezer, knock the sand from myself with a quick shower, and head to bed. The first meeting of the D&D group was the next day, and I there was much I needed to do to prepare.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
The Ascent
J125 Saturday August 25th
Saturday was busy, as always, but it went by fast. One of my classes is a free conversation with a businessman for an hour. It's a really interesting class, because I learn a lot about Japanese life from him. We talk about everything, sports, nature, science, current events, whatnot. I've had many informative conversations with him, though none spring to mind now. It's raining as I write this, and storms always make me a little fuzzy.
Saturday night was split between two gatherings. One of the part-time teachers at my company was throwing a BBQ party on Ose beach. After work, I headed home and cleaned up. I've come to relish my semi-daily cold shower after work. It helps wash away the sweat and grit of teaching, and refreshes and invigorates me. Plus, it helps me cool down, which is always nice. I headed back out after an hour or so to Ose beach, where a small crowd had gathered.
Several students were there. Soon after I arrived my manager and some of the other teachers and staff showed up. The organizer of the party had bought tremendous amounts of meat and beer, and returned with the latter a few minutes after I got to the beach.
Someone had purchased some cheap gas lanterns. They were predominantly plastic, how they didn't melt I will never know, and whilst being lit they gave off the dizzying smell of burning polycarbon. The source of the smell was not the body of the lantern, as I had assumed, but rather some plastic loops to which price tags had been attached. One lantern didn't quite work correctly, and its fire got almost out of control. My students and I quickly doused it with the best fire-retardant system we had available; the ocean. The three other lanterns worked quite nicely, thankfully, though still there lingered the smell of burning plastic.
Two small grills had been set up, using large chunks of Japanese charcoal. We set about cooking the meat that had been purchased. The teachers started, but I grabbed a clean pair of chopsticks (someone had purchased a huge bag of some 500 pairs) and assisted. Turning and shepherding the roasting meat as best I could. In the dark of night it was sometimes difficult to judge the meat's done-ness, but thanks to some small flashlights, including my ever-useful (but dying) keychain LED flashlight, we did okay. My coworker had prepared some delicious (but different) Malaysian-style chicken to grill. I enjoyed a few pieces, but the fact that the skin was still on *and* the pieces I got weren't cooked all the way through didn't endear it to me.
After a few hours of talking and grilling I decided to move on to G-Bros. Tonight was to be the final meeting for the Fuji group, and I needed to be there. I bid the gathered crowd farewell and headed back up the cliffside switchbacks to the main roads of Hitachi. I got to G-Bros quick enough, and was surprised to see Josh amongst the gathered Gaijin.
A few of the Gang discussed and planned Fuji, but most of the group was talking amongst themselves. As always, Josh and I struck up a geek-themed conversation. We covered our mutual love of comic books, including the ingenious (and apparently not dead) work of Warren Ellis, Nextwave.
Two or so hours after I'd arrived I called it a night. The schedule for transport had been arranged, with the people going to Fuji-san meeting at the train station the next day at 1:15PM. The plan was to arrive at Fuji after sunset and begin a night ascent, so as to see the sunrise from the top.
J126 Sunday August 26th
Today was to be the beginning of...something. I cannot adequately represent with words what transpired that day. I will report the facts, the events and their sequence, even my emotions and feelings, but understand that this was an experience that went beyond what I am. I would not say this "changed" me, but it did have a profound effect on me.
I was up and about early Sunday morning. I needed to purchase supplies for my trek up the mountain. I went to Sakura City, the other big department store in Hitachi; they have a big sports store, and that would probably suit my needs.
I found a good utility knife, a LED flashlight, a signal whistle, a good light jacket, a poncho, a really REALLY nifty Camelbak waterbottle, and to my utter amazement, Power Bars. I took my time looking through everything, making sure I wasn't spending too much or too little on my gear. This stuff was going to help me survive a very difficult journey, and I didn't want anything to crap out on me. The Power Bars, especially, were a treasure to find.
I purchased these items and then went down into the grocery store in Sakrua City's basement. I purchased a few bags of dried nuts and fruit, along with a small breakfast. I rode back home on my bike, eager to prepare. I ate my breakfast/lunch, showered, and packed my bag. I decided on the following for my gear:
1 single-strap backpack
1 750ml water bottle (filled, stored in backpack's bottle bag)
1 pair blue jeans (rolled up, stored in backpack's main pocket)
1 long-sleeved button up shirt (rolled up, stored in main pocket)
1 light jacket (rolled up in storage bag, stored in main pocket)
1 pair socks (stored in main pocket)
1 pair insulated gloves (stored in main pocket)
4 Power Bars (stored in main pocket)
1 Bag of Mixed Nuts (stored in main pocket)
1 Bag of Raisins (stored in main pocket)
8 AA Batteries (stored in backpack's small pocket)
1 LED Flashlight (stored in small pocket)
1 Signal Whistle (stored in small pocket)
1 Wallet (stored in small pocket)
1 Set of Keys (stored in small pocket)
1 Utility Knife (stored in small pocket)
1 Tengui (long handkerchief, stored in small pocket)
1 pair hiking shorts (worn)
1 t-shirt (worn)
1 straw hat (worn)
1 pair socks (worn)
1 pair shoes (worn)
1 belt (worn)
1 Casio QV-R62 Camera (worn on belt)
These, and only these, things I would bring with me. I managed to fit everything into my bag, somehow. It was weighty, but well-designed to distribute weight along my shoulders. I rode down to the station with a few minutes to spare, meeting up with the rest of the gang. Ascending the mountain were my coworker, M-sensei, Dan, Clive, myself, Erin, and Jeanie, who was already in Tokyo, having left earlier in the morning.
We took a local train to Tokyo, in communication with Jeanie several times. She had been working out the train schedules in situ in Tokyo, and was passing the info along to us. We were a little turned around after a while, but we managed to parse her instructions.
The train down to Tokyo was a local. By the time we got to the city it was already 4:30PM, and our respective morning meals were fond memories. We all were getting hungry, but knew that we couldn't stop for food, or else we'd miss trains. We all soved on.
We boarded an Express train from Tokyo to Kawaguchiko, one of the towns at the foot of Mt. Fuji. Aboard this train, which is laid out much like an airliner, I sat next to Dan. We enjoyed the slowly setting sun as the train sped along. I managed to procure a pork sandwich from the food cart, and Dan was kind enough to treat me to some Chu-Hai, a lemon liquor similar to beer, but not quite. Think lemon juice and light vodka. Very...interesting.
As we neared Kawaguchiko, mountains began to appear around us. Much taller than the ones in Hitachi, these cast bold shadows on the tiny, flat valleys between their sudden bulk. Mountains in Japan are very different than the ones in America. They start very quickly, seeming to spring out of the ground. The same was true here. The train tracks wound through mountain valleys, elevated above sleepy villages and towns. The sun, already low on the horizon, disappeared behind the tall mountains, darkening the world all the quicker.
When we arrived in Kawaguchiko, it was nearly 9PM. We'd spent almost 8 hours on trains that day, and were eager to stretch our legs. The train station at Kawaguchiko resembled a huge log cabin, made entirely out of wood in a style reminiscent of mountain lodges from the Alps. It almost seemed out of place, but it had just enough Japanese aesthetics such that it fit. It was fun to look at; like a magic eye picture before it resolved itself.
The platform itself was tiny, and there was no overpass for travelers to cross the tracks. You literally walked across the rails to get out of the station. There were cross guards, though, so you never ran the risk of getting hit by a train.
We decided to start from the 5th station, a tiny cluster of buildings and looped roads that was some halfway up the mountain. It's the starting point of nearly everyone who climbs the mountain. Mt. Fuji's base is clad in a dark, dense forest. Paths cut through it, but starting from the bottom adds nearly 5 hours to an ascent, and we wanted to see the sunrise from the top of the mountain. The fact that Fuji-san's forest is a favored spot for suicides helped our decision.
We found a bus, the last one in fact, from Kwawguchiko to the 5th station. We had about 30 minutes, so we prepared ourselves. We made use of the bathroom facilities and grabbed a quick dinner from the train station's gift shop, on the verge of closing and thus limited in food selection, and from a nearby 7-11.
Waiting for the bus we ate and drank in the dark. Sitting next to our group was a young man clad in a brown leather coat and sporting a massive afro of brown curls. I had spied him earlier in the train station, and he had helped us determine the bus schedule. I had yet to introduce myself, though, so after finishing my meal I did so.
His name was Harry. He was from England and was on vacation, having spent nearly a month in Japan on his own. He'd finished high school before coming, and wanted to see the world. His original plans had been to come with a cousin and spend 6 months, but his partner pulled out at the last minute, causing him to readjust his plans. His flight back home was in a few days, and this was the last major thing he'd do before going home.
He was a steampunk enthusiast. Being one myself, our kindling friendship virtually exploded as we fell into a jovial, Victorian mode of speech.
Our bus arrived and we all boarded. Harry and I chatted on about many a subject, technology, fiction, the internet, all of it tinged with steampunk and its tropes. It was as if we'd been friends forever, meeting after a long absence.
After a 30 minute bus ride, we arrived at the 5th station. The first thing I noticed was the cool air. Kawaguchiko was warm in the way Japanese nights tend to be; slightly sticky and close, like a thick blanket. Station 5 was noticeably cooler, so much so that I decided to change into my warmer weather gear. Station 5 consisted of a looping cul-de-sac, with the main road curving back down the mountain, and broader, dirt road arcing up. The circular road described an empty plaza, and to either side of the loop were buildings. The only one open at that time of night was a souvenir shop. Lots of Fuji related kitch could be purchased, including tall, octagonal walking sticks topped with bells. These were a common purchase for climbers. At each station one could purchase a brand that was stamped on the wood's surface. Climbers would leave their bells at the summit, as a testament to their conquest of the mountain.
I changed in the back of the souvenir shop where some coin lockers were located. A dozen or so other men and women, mostly Japanese but with a few foreigners mixed in, were changing. I joined in the festivities, such as they were, and soon sported my jeans instead of my shorts. I rejoined the group outside, and we started our climb.
Recall, reader, one of my favorite suggestions for doing things in Japan. Follow the crowd. Even at night, there were TONS of people climbing Mt. Fuji. Some were like us, small groups of casual hikers. Others looked like they were getting ready to tackle Everest, their massive camping backpacks bulging with gear and their hands tightly grasping one, sometimes two, walking sticks. High tech walking sticks. With lasers.
Harry and I walked together. I soon became separated from my group, but I wasn't particularly worried. There was really only one path up and down Mt. Fuji, and it was impossible to get turned around. We started out in the dead of night, the sun having set a few hours before. The moon was out, and almost full. The path was a stamped flat road of dirt and stones, curving gently around the wide base of the mountain.
Our first spectacular view was very soon into our climb. On our right was the mountain's ever-rising bulk. To our left was nothingness. The mountain fell sharply away from the path's edge, and we could see out into the cloudy, fog-covered valley below. Between two massive spurs of Mt. Fuji we saw the shimmering grid of a small town. Clouds clung to every inch of Mt. Fuji like a veil, obscuring its true size and shape from us. These same clouds also hid the fusion of the mountain to the Earth itself, giving the illusion that the mountain itself was somehow floating in a sea of clouds. Pale trees, curving out from the soil to the left, over empty space, and then sharply up toward the sky, looked like the ribs of a mighty beast in the light of the bright, coy moon.
Up we climbed. We kept pace with my group, but soon it stretched out. Clive, M-sensei, and Dan steamed ahead, whilst Harry and I walked at our own pace. Jeanie and Erin, though not together, were somewhere behind us.
Harry and I met another group of foreigners ascending. Truth be told, there were hundreds of climbers, but these stood out in that their geekishness shone out from the dark and synched with our own. The other group was led by a strapping young man about my age named Cash. I would later learn that he is employed by my own company, though we had never met before that night on the mountain. I cannot recall the names of the other three members. Liz, I think, was one of them. As was LaShay, though I cannot be certain. Hank was the last. These names could easily be erroneous, though.
We soon left the relative ease of the dirt road and came to the first of many switchbacks. Carved into the sides of the mountain is a dizzying array of zigzag pathways. Their sides are reinforced by bulwarks, some stacked stone, others fabricated steel and wire. The going soon got tough, though Cash, in one of the rare moments where we occupied the same relative space on the trail, assured us this was nothing. He had climbed Mt. Fuji before, and knew what lay ahead.
After an hour's worth of climbing, we made it to Station 6. Every station on Mt. Fuji is unique, but all of them provide some basic services. Toilets, which one must pay for, are provided, though the disposal measures leave much to be desired. Travel food and drinks are also provided, though they start immensely expensive and steadily grow moreso as one nears the top. Many of the stations have bunk houses, open spaces where a somewhat reasonable fee (around 5000 yen, or $50) gets you a tatami mat (90cm by 180cm, or 35in by 70) worth of space to sleep. Staff also lived in small houses, old-fashioned Japanese style houses heated by tiny wood fires, to man the booths and provide assistance, should the need arise.
It was another 100 minutes to the next station, so our small English-language map said. I downed a bottle of water to keep myself hydrated. Harry noticed my difficulty breathing, and purchased a bottle of oxygen for me. A long drag of pure O2 had me on my feet again.
Around this time, I think, it ceased to be Sunday, and was magically a Monday.
J126 Monday August 26th
Up we climbed. Endless upward motion. With every step I felt fatigue seep into my bones and muscles. As we climbed, we found other smaller substations where we could sit and rest.
Up we climbed. Meter after meter. With shocking suddenness the terrain switched from hard-packed dirt to volcanic rock. The bumpy, oddly smooth rock that flowed from the mountainside felt like stone wax as we scrambled up its sharp sides. My gloves came on soon after we hit volcanic rock, protecting my hands from both the cold and the jagged terrain.
By the time we reached the 7th Station I was having doubts as to whether or not I could finish this. To say I was tired was an overstatement. My backpack's weight pulled at my shoulder, and the cold quickly sapped my strength when I summoned it. Harry's words of encouragement, though helped me. I downed more air, as well as a power bar, and we resumed our climb.
Up we climbed. Soon my every move was painful. The muscles of my legs and abdomen were worked beyond my comfort limits. My stomach felt uncomfortable, so much so that keeping food down was a challenge. I knew my body needed nutrition, though, so I rationed my supplies and fed myself slowly.
The 8th Station. Rest and food. Up we climbed.
Before I had left the station the previous day, I had searched for information on Mt. Fuji, wondering what I would experience on the mountain. The Wikitravel entry for Mt. Fuji was very informative. I also looked at the Wikipedia entry, and one piece of information therein stuck out in my mind. The first known ascent of the mountain was done in 663A.D. by an unknown monk.
As I climbed, as my body protested and I thought semi-seriously of just stopping and laying down, I thought of him. Young, perhaps. Probably no older than me. He wore a homespun robe, with maybe an undershirt. Sturdy straw sandals wrapped around his feet, probably with stout socks. He may have had a short length of rope, but probably not. Maybe he had a little bottle of water carved from a bamboo shoot.
Alone. On this mountain. No, you can't call Mt. Fuji a mountain. It's beyond being labeled something so small. Mt. Fuji is...this thing. A monster. A beast. It's not vicious or cruel. It doesn't hunt. But it's almost incomprehensible. It is so big you can't see all of it; it hides itself. Bulges of rock and clouds hide its true size and shape from you.
Alone, straddling this monster, with no equipment. No stations to guide him. No path designed by brilliant young engineers or carved by strong young workers. No help. No one. Alone. On this monster.
I felt a fire, in me. It wasn't a big, passionate bonfire. It wasn't a blaze or an inferno. It was like a little candle. But, I knew, that it would never go out. Ever. It would gutter, and there would be times I felt like I would surely die from what I was doing. But every time I did, I saw that young monk in my mind's eye.
Alone. On this monster.
I picked up my right foot, and put it in front of my left one. It was all I could do, but it was enough.
Every step became torture, but I didn't care. I was beyond it. I knew that I could survive. I knew that I had already beaten the biggest enemy I had; myself. Only I could turn around. The mountain was there, it was just a big rock. It was a beautiful rock, born in titanic violence and filled with mysticism, but it was still a rock.
There is no 9th Station. It's called the Old 8th Station. By this time the sun was nearly up, and though we could finally see the summit from where we stood, we knew we couldn't make it in time. We would climb the mountain, Harry and I, but we wouldn't kill ourselves doing it. I ducked in to a small, heated hut and feasted on a cup of instant ramen. It was the same brand I'd lived on for my first few weeks here in Japan. It was made with hot water from a small electric heater. It was the most delicious food I have ever tasted.
I used the time in the hut to shed some layers and feel less bulky. After finishing my meal I suited up again. Harry had enjoyed the outdoors, resting himself as the other climbers walked by. When I exited, we continued.
Up we climbed. This was the steepest part of the trail. The mountain's slope had slowly increased in sheerness, like a tangent line on a graphing calculator. We had neared the summit, and the switchbacks became nearly vertical. The path alternated between switchback and stair, with some parts of the trail mercifully flat.
A few hundred meters above Old 8, Harry and I watched the sun rise. Out of a sea of white clouds, so thick they obscured everything, a blood-red dawn was born. Fire leaped in slow motion from beyond the edge of the planet as the Universe moved, and I was lucky enough to intercept the photons of another beautiful sunrise. I felt then, as I do now, not smallness, but wonder at the scope of the Cosmos. Perched atop a rather large volcanically extruded jag of rock, I was witness to the motion of everything. I won't say I felt a cosmic oneness, because I didn't. I understood, or shall I say comprehended, yet again, my place in the Universe.
I recall as I write this a notion from one of my favorite manga, Planetes. One of the characters waxes poetic about where space begins. Space, it is commonly held, begins anywhere between 50 to 100 miles above the surface of the Earth. This character remarks, quite correctly, that such a distinction is merely a human delineation. There is no true vacuum in Outer Space. It is quite sparse, don't misunderstand, but there's still stuff in every cubic meter of space. A molecule or two, at least. Our atmosphere is ludicrously thick compared to space, but the difference between the two is merely a matter of density. Space, this character states, is all around us.
Standing there, near the top of Mt. Fuji, I understood this concept very clearly. As we ascended Harry and I broke through the lower ceiling of the clouds. The night sky above us was clear, more clear than either of us had ever seen. The stars shone and glittered like diamonds and sapphires above us, and even the lens of the galaxy could be seen. The mountain hid the moon for a while, and our view was unspoiled by light.
As we climbed a storm brewed far off in the distance. We were above the ground-hugging storm clouds, and well far off, so we were in no danger. Purple flashes through the clouds told of lightning. We saw far more than one would standing beneath the clouds.
I finally saw the curve of the Earth. The limb, the edge of the world, beyond which I could not see, unless I climbed higher still.
Up we climbed. The sun warmed us as we ascended. As we ascended our breaks grew longer and more frequent. Every three steps and I would catch my breath. A step up something winded me. My bottle of O2 kept me going, though, and never once did I feel truly faint from lack of air. One of the longer stops was near the top, where Harry and I sunned ourselves as we lay within a small fold of rock. Every time I would look up I would feel my hurts sing in agony "No more!". I remembered the monk, and soon ceased to look up.
Finally, there were no more steps. Without realizing it, consciously at least, Harry and I had reached the top of the mountain. I looked down at the trail below me. I saw, in the way only a mountain climber can, the odd geometry of my conquest as it swept away from me into the sky.
The caldera of Mt. Fuji is inactive, a massive pucker in the mountain that does not smoke or hiss. The highest point on Mt. Fuji is on the opposite end of the caldera from where I stood, a small weather-monitoring station. Harry and I rested in a small shop at the top, buying a souvenir with the day's date hammered into it by one of the shop keepers. I enjoyed a cup of hot tea, eager to warm and hydrate myself.
I met Dan, one of the trainees that was with me my first week here in Japan. This is a coincidence of truly epic probability, though I will not say I was terribly surprised. Merely amused with the Universe as a whole.
After we'd gathered our strength, Harry and I began our descent. We would not go to the highest point; we were too tired. We had climbed the mountain, and a dozen more meters and a photo op, while quaint, would not feel rewarding after the monumental task we had just achieved.
Down we walked. This side of Fuji-san was switchbacks all the way down. These steps, though, were swept through the volcanic rock, soil, and predominantly dust of the mountain's last eruption. This was, quite possibly, the worst part of the journey. It was very, very boring. Going was slow; if you went too fast or too slow you'd slip and fall. The view was maddening, too; an endless scope of cloud and reddish stone as far as the eye could see. Beautiful at first, but soon monotonous.
Down we walked, keeping our spirits up with discussions and songs. Down we trudged, exhausted and dehydrated. Harry had carried no water that I'd seen, and had purchased none as we climbed. I had tried to keep myself fairly well lubricated. My own water supply dwindled as we walked, my patient rationing of it used to keep my fleshy bits moist in the rare atmosphere.
We soon came to the cloud ceiling, and were wrapped in thick fingers of cool cloudstuff. Our skin was soothed by cool breezes as we walked down the mountain. The sun sizzled our skin, but the clouds kept us cool.
We saw tractors climbing the trail we were on, distributing people and supplies to the stations and staff houses we passed. Signs dotted the mountainside, providing very incorrect data as to our location and the distance to the next station.
We finally reached the end of the switchbacks, finding ourselves nearly a quarter of the way around Mt. Fuji's middle from where we'd started. Down we walked on a far gentler slope, still difficult due to exhausted muscles, along a path that gave us a fantastic view of the cloud-wreathed forests that grew along Mt. Fuji's sides. We saw horses, blanketed against the night's chill and watched by half-dozing handlers. Their small fire crackled happily as we passed, and the horses watched our crossing. We reached a crossroads of sorts, and felt slight panic when the signs we spied began to point us back up the mountain. We asked some passerby and were pointed in the right direction, down a path we had not seen given our elevation.
We reached a variant of the 6th station, more a staging point than anything else. A large crowd had gathered and were preparing for their own ascent. I used the facilities there, despite the barbaric state of the portajohn I found there. Harry and I walked ever-downward. We met a family, Midwesterners by their accents, who asked for our own tale of the mountain. They were going up as we were going down. We told them of our ordeals and wished them luck. They informed us that we were very close to the 5th Station, upon hearing which I desired to buy them all a steak dinner.
We finally found the trail we had started upon the night before. The moon-kissed forest had transformed into a more mundane one in the light of the sun, but it was no less beautiful. The haze of the night's clouds had lifted, and shimmering like mirrors set into the Earth we saw some of the lakes that arced about Fuji's northern face.
We finally, finally reached the 5th Station. It was far more crowded than the night before, with hundreds of people finishing or starting their climbs. Parents shepherded children, buying gifts and treats.
Harry bought some souvenirs as I changed and repacked my bag, sorting the trash from the rest of my possessions. The bus we had caught that took us up the mountain had included a return ticket. I got the information to the next bus that would take us back down the rest of the way. Harry and I, immensely hungry now that we were no longer walking, had a simple breakfast of toast and jam at a nearby cafe.
We boarded the bus down to Kawaguchiko at 1:30PM. In front of us were a trio of Australian travelers (one Liverpudlian immigrant, his Australian wife, and their Australian friend). I struck up a conversation with them, finding them to be positively wonderful people. They ran a tattoo shop in Perth, and were in Japan for a tattoo convention that had happened the week before. They offered Harry and I seats, which we gladly took on the packed bus.
Harry fell asleep as I talked to the Australians about many a thing. Mostly politics, tattoos, and culture. The bus ride was long, and I enjoyed the conversation. My talks with Harry had slowly devolved as we climbed up and then down the mountain, exhaustion robbing our conversation of much meaning.
When the bus pulled into the station, we all disembarked. Harry and I said our goodbyes and parted ways. He and I had shared a close bond while we climbed, helping one another and keeping our collective spirits up. He was off to Tokyo to sleep and recover, and would catch his flight home the next day. I wished him luck in his endeavors.
I chatted a bit longer with the trio of Australians, helping them find a hotel and conversing more about life, the Universe, and everything. Finally, I realized that I needed to start back home, as the journey was long and the day was almost half-done.
I boarded a local for Tokyo, switching to an express at a station partway between the mountain and the city. In Tokyo I took the Yamanote line to Ueno where I attempted to get a ticket home. My money supply had dwindled, despite my careful rationing, and I was without funds to purchase any ticket home. I found an ATM outside of the station, though, and was able to procure enough funds to buy an Express ticket to Hitachi as well as a well-deserved (and much needed) dinner. I boarded the train and enjoyed my evening meal as it zipped through the night toward my home.
I napped a bit, but fear of missing my stop kept me awake. I had purchased a notebook in Ueno and jotted down some brainstorming notes for my D&D game.
At long last, a mere day and a half (a thousand years) after I left it, I arrived in Hitachi. I caught a cab home, not trusting my rubbery legs to bike or walk my way back. I showered and felt clean for the first time in what was surely decades and, without fanfare, unfolded my futon, and slept.
Saturday was busy, as always, but it went by fast. One of my classes is a free conversation with a businessman for an hour. It's a really interesting class, because I learn a lot about Japanese life from him. We talk about everything, sports, nature, science, current events, whatnot. I've had many informative conversations with him, though none spring to mind now. It's raining as I write this, and storms always make me a little fuzzy.
Saturday night was split between two gatherings. One of the part-time teachers at my company was throwing a BBQ party on Ose beach. After work, I headed home and cleaned up. I've come to relish my semi-daily cold shower after work. It helps wash away the sweat and grit of teaching, and refreshes and invigorates me. Plus, it helps me cool down, which is always nice. I headed back out after an hour or so to Ose beach, where a small crowd had gathered.
Several students were there. Soon after I arrived my manager and some of the other teachers and staff showed up. The organizer of the party had bought tremendous amounts of meat and beer, and returned with the latter a few minutes after I got to the beach.
Someone had purchased some cheap gas lanterns. They were predominantly plastic, how they didn't melt I will never know, and whilst being lit they gave off the dizzying smell of burning polycarbon. The source of the smell was not the body of the lantern, as I had assumed, but rather some plastic loops to which price tags had been attached. One lantern didn't quite work correctly, and its fire got almost out of control. My students and I quickly doused it with the best fire-retardant system we had available; the ocean. The three other lanterns worked quite nicely, thankfully, though still there lingered the smell of burning plastic.
Two small grills had been set up, using large chunks of Japanese charcoal. We set about cooking the meat that had been purchased. The teachers started, but I grabbed a clean pair of chopsticks (someone had purchased a huge bag of some 500 pairs) and assisted. Turning and shepherding the roasting meat as best I could. In the dark of night it was sometimes difficult to judge the meat's done-ness, but thanks to some small flashlights, including my ever-useful (but dying) keychain LED flashlight, we did okay. My coworker had prepared some delicious (but different) Malaysian-style chicken to grill. I enjoyed a few pieces, but the fact that the skin was still on *and* the pieces I got weren't cooked all the way through didn't endear it to me.
After a few hours of talking and grilling I decided to move on to G-Bros. Tonight was to be the final meeting for the Fuji group, and I needed to be there. I bid the gathered crowd farewell and headed back up the cliffside switchbacks to the main roads of Hitachi. I got to G-Bros quick enough, and was surprised to see Josh amongst the gathered Gaijin.
A few of the Gang discussed and planned Fuji, but most of the group was talking amongst themselves. As always, Josh and I struck up a geek-themed conversation. We covered our mutual love of comic books, including the ingenious (and apparently not dead) work of Warren Ellis, Nextwave.
Two or so hours after I'd arrived I called it a night. The schedule for transport had been arranged, with the people going to Fuji-san meeting at the train station the next day at 1:15PM. The plan was to arrive at Fuji after sunset and begin a night ascent, so as to see the sunrise from the top.
J126 Sunday August 26th
Today was to be the beginning of...something. I cannot adequately represent with words what transpired that day. I will report the facts, the events and their sequence, even my emotions and feelings, but understand that this was an experience that went beyond what I am. I would not say this "changed" me, but it did have a profound effect on me.
I was up and about early Sunday morning. I needed to purchase supplies for my trek up the mountain. I went to Sakura City, the other big department store in Hitachi; they have a big sports store, and that would probably suit my needs.
I found a good utility knife, a LED flashlight, a signal whistle, a good light jacket, a poncho, a really REALLY nifty Camelbak waterbottle, and to my utter amazement, Power Bars. I took my time looking through everything, making sure I wasn't spending too much or too little on my gear. This stuff was going to help me survive a very difficult journey, and I didn't want anything to crap out on me. The Power Bars, especially, were a treasure to find.
I purchased these items and then went down into the grocery store in Sakrua City's basement. I purchased a few bags of dried nuts and fruit, along with a small breakfast. I rode back home on my bike, eager to prepare. I ate my breakfast/lunch, showered, and packed my bag. I decided on the following for my gear:
1 single-strap backpack
1 750ml water bottle (filled, stored in backpack's bottle bag)
1 pair blue jeans (rolled up, stored in backpack's main pocket)
1 long-sleeved button up shirt (rolled up, stored in main pocket)
1 light jacket (rolled up in storage bag, stored in main pocket)
1 pair socks (stored in main pocket)
1 pair insulated gloves (stored in main pocket)
4 Power Bars (stored in main pocket)
1 Bag of Mixed Nuts (stored in main pocket)
1 Bag of Raisins (stored in main pocket)
8 AA Batteries (stored in backpack's small pocket)
1 LED Flashlight (stored in small pocket)
1 Signal Whistle (stored in small pocket)
1 Wallet (stored in small pocket)
1 Set of Keys (stored in small pocket)
1 Utility Knife (stored in small pocket)
1 Tengui (long handkerchief, stored in small pocket)
1 pair hiking shorts (worn)
1 t-shirt (worn)
1 straw hat (worn)
1 pair socks (worn)
1 pair shoes (worn)
1 belt (worn)
1 Casio QV-R62 Camera (worn on belt)
These, and only these, things I would bring with me. I managed to fit everything into my bag, somehow. It was weighty, but well-designed to distribute weight along my shoulders. I rode down to the station with a few minutes to spare, meeting up with the rest of the gang. Ascending the mountain were my coworker, M-sensei, Dan, Clive, myself, Erin, and Jeanie, who was already in Tokyo, having left earlier in the morning.
We took a local train to Tokyo, in communication with Jeanie several times. She had been working out the train schedules in situ in Tokyo, and was passing the info along to us. We were a little turned around after a while, but we managed to parse her instructions.
The train down to Tokyo was a local. By the time we got to the city it was already 4:30PM, and our respective morning meals were fond memories. We all were getting hungry, but knew that we couldn't stop for food, or else we'd miss trains. We all soved on.
We boarded an Express train from Tokyo to Kawaguchiko, one of the towns at the foot of Mt. Fuji. Aboard this train, which is laid out much like an airliner, I sat next to Dan. We enjoyed the slowly setting sun as the train sped along. I managed to procure a pork sandwich from the food cart, and Dan was kind enough to treat me to some Chu-Hai, a lemon liquor similar to beer, but not quite. Think lemon juice and light vodka. Very...interesting.
As we neared Kawaguchiko, mountains began to appear around us. Much taller than the ones in Hitachi, these cast bold shadows on the tiny, flat valleys between their sudden bulk. Mountains in Japan are very different than the ones in America. They start very quickly, seeming to spring out of the ground. The same was true here. The train tracks wound through mountain valleys, elevated above sleepy villages and towns. The sun, already low on the horizon, disappeared behind the tall mountains, darkening the world all the quicker.
When we arrived in Kawaguchiko, it was nearly 9PM. We'd spent almost 8 hours on trains that day, and were eager to stretch our legs. The train station at Kawaguchiko resembled a huge log cabin, made entirely out of wood in a style reminiscent of mountain lodges from the Alps. It almost seemed out of place, but it had just enough Japanese aesthetics such that it fit. It was fun to look at; like a magic eye picture before it resolved itself.
The platform itself was tiny, and there was no overpass for travelers to cross the tracks. You literally walked across the rails to get out of the station. There were cross guards, though, so you never ran the risk of getting hit by a train.
We decided to start from the 5th station, a tiny cluster of buildings and looped roads that was some halfway up the mountain. It's the starting point of nearly everyone who climbs the mountain. Mt. Fuji's base is clad in a dark, dense forest. Paths cut through it, but starting from the bottom adds nearly 5 hours to an ascent, and we wanted to see the sunrise from the top of the mountain. The fact that Fuji-san's forest is a favored spot for suicides helped our decision.
We found a bus, the last one in fact, from Kwawguchiko to the 5th station. We had about 30 minutes, so we prepared ourselves. We made use of the bathroom facilities and grabbed a quick dinner from the train station's gift shop, on the verge of closing and thus limited in food selection, and from a nearby 7-11.
Waiting for the bus we ate and drank in the dark. Sitting next to our group was a young man clad in a brown leather coat and sporting a massive afro of brown curls. I had spied him earlier in the train station, and he had helped us determine the bus schedule. I had yet to introduce myself, though, so after finishing my meal I did so.
His name was Harry. He was from England and was on vacation, having spent nearly a month in Japan on his own. He'd finished high school before coming, and wanted to see the world. His original plans had been to come with a cousin and spend 6 months, but his partner pulled out at the last minute, causing him to readjust his plans. His flight back home was in a few days, and this was the last major thing he'd do before going home.
He was a steampunk enthusiast. Being one myself, our kindling friendship virtually exploded as we fell into a jovial, Victorian mode of speech.
Our bus arrived and we all boarded. Harry and I chatted on about many a subject, technology, fiction, the internet, all of it tinged with steampunk and its tropes. It was as if we'd been friends forever, meeting after a long absence.
After a 30 minute bus ride, we arrived at the 5th station. The first thing I noticed was the cool air. Kawaguchiko was warm in the way Japanese nights tend to be; slightly sticky and close, like a thick blanket. Station 5 was noticeably cooler, so much so that I decided to change into my warmer weather gear. Station 5 consisted of a looping cul-de-sac, with the main road curving back down the mountain, and broader, dirt road arcing up. The circular road described an empty plaza, and to either side of the loop were buildings. The only one open at that time of night was a souvenir shop. Lots of Fuji related kitch could be purchased, including tall, octagonal walking sticks topped with bells. These were a common purchase for climbers. At each station one could purchase a brand that was stamped on the wood's surface. Climbers would leave their bells at the summit, as a testament to their conquest of the mountain.
I changed in the back of the souvenir shop where some coin lockers were located. A dozen or so other men and women, mostly Japanese but with a few foreigners mixed in, were changing. I joined in the festivities, such as they were, and soon sported my jeans instead of my shorts. I rejoined the group outside, and we started our climb.
Recall, reader, one of my favorite suggestions for doing things in Japan. Follow the crowd. Even at night, there were TONS of people climbing Mt. Fuji. Some were like us, small groups of casual hikers. Others looked like they were getting ready to tackle Everest, their massive camping backpacks bulging with gear and their hands tightly grasping one, sometimes two, walking sticks. High tech walking sticks. With lasers.
Harry and I walked together. I soon became separated from my group, but I wasn't particularly worried. There was really only one path up and down Mt. Fuji, and it was impossible to get turned around. We started out in the dead of night, the sun having set a few hours before. The moon was out, and almost full. The path was a stamped flat road of dirt and stones, curving gently around the wide base of the mountain.
Our first spectacular view was very soon into our climb. On our right was the mountain's ever-rising bulk. To our left was nothingness. The mountain fell sharply away from the path's edge, and we could see out into the cloudy, fog-covered valley below. Between two massive spurs of Mt. Fuji we saw the shimmering grid of a small town. Clouds clung to every inch of Mt. Fuji like a veil, obscuring its true size and shape from us. These same clouds also hid the fusion of the mountain to the Earth itself, giving the illusion that the mountain itself was somehow floating in a sea of clouds. Pale trees, curving out from the soil to the left, over empty space, and then sharply up toward the sky, looked like the ribs of a mighty beast in the light of the bright, coy moon.
Up we climbed. We kept pace with my group, but soon it stretched out. Clive, M-sensei, and Dan steamed ahead, whilst Harry and I walked at our own pace. Jeanie and Erin, though not together, were somewhere behind us.
Harry and I met another group of foreigners ascending. Truth be told, there were hundreds of climbers, but these stood out in that their geekishness shone out from the dark and synched with our own. The other group was led by a strapping young man about my age named Cash. I would later learn that he is employed by my own company, though we had never met before that night on the mountain. I cannot recall the names of the other three members. Liz, I think, was one of them. As was LaShay, though I cannot be certain. Hank was the last. These names could easily be erroneous, though.
We soon left the relative ease of the dirt road and came to the first of many switchbacks. Carved into the sides of the mountain is a dizzying array of zigzag pathways. Their sides are reinforced by bulwarks, some stacked stone, others fabricated steel and wire. The going soon got tough, though Cash, in one of the rare moments where we occupied the same relative space on the trail, assured us this was nothing. He had climbed Mt. Fuji before, and knew what lay ahead.
After an hour's worth of climbing, we made it to Station 6. Every station on Mt. Fuji is unique, but all of them provide some basic services. Toilets, which one must pay for, are provided, though the disposal measures leave much to be desired. Travel food and drinks are also provided, though they start immensely expensive and steadily grow moreso as one nears the top. Many of the stations have bunk houses, open spaces where a somewhat reasonable fee (around 5000 yen, or $50) gets you a tatami mat (90cm by 180cm, or 35in by 70) worth of space to sleep. Staff also lived in small houses, old-fashioned Japanese style houses heated by tiny wood fires, to man the booths and provide assistance, should the need arise.
It was another 100 minutes to the next station, so our small English-language map said. I downed a bottle of water to keep myself hydrated. Harry noticed my difficulty breathing, and purchased a bottle of oxygen for me. A long drag of pure O2 had me on my feet again.
Around this time, I think, it ceased to be Sunday, and was magically a Monday.
J126 Monday August 26th
Up we climbed. Endless upward motion. With every step I felt fatigue seep into my bones and muscles. As we climbed, we found other smaller substations where we could sit and rest.
Up we climbed. Meter after meter. With shocking suddenness the terrain switched from hard-packed dirt to volcanic rock. The bumpy, oddly smooth rock that flowed from the mountainside felt like stone wax as we scrambled up its sharp sides. My gloves came on soon after we hit volcanic rock, protecting my hands from both the cold and the jagged terrain.
By the time we reached the 7th Station I was having doubts as to whether or not I could finish this. To say I was tired was an overstatement. My backpack's weight pulled at my shoulder, and the cold quickly sapped my strength when I summoned it. Harry's words of encouragement, though helped me. I downed more air, as well as a power bar, and we resumed our climb.
Up we climbed. Soon my every move was painful. The muscles of my legs and abdomen were worked beyond my comfort limits. My stomach felt uncomfortable, so much so that keeping food down was a challenge. I knew my body needed nutrition, though, so I rationed my supplies and fed myself slowly.
The 8th Station. Rest and food. Up we climbed.
Before I had left the station the previous day, I had searched for information on Mt. Fuji, wondering what I would experience on the mountain. The Wikitravel entry for Mt. Fuji was very informative. I also looked at the Wikipedia entry, and one piece of information therein stuck out in my mind. The first known ascent of the mountain was done in 663A.D. by an unknown monk.
As I climbed, as my body protested and I thought semi-seriously of just stopping and laying down, I thought of him. Young, perhaps. Probably no older than me. He wore a homespun robe, with maybe an undershirt. Sturdy straw sandals wrapped around his feet, probably with stout socks. He may have had a short length of rope, but probably not. Maybe he had a little bottle of water carved from a bamboo shoot.
Alone. On this mountain. No, you can't call Mt. Fuji a mountain. It's beyond being labeled something so small. Mt. Fuji is...this thing. A monster. A beast. It's not vicious or cruel. It doesn't hunt. But it's almost incomprehensible. It is so big you can't see all of it; it hides itself. Bulges of rock and clouds hide its true size and shape from you.
Alone, straddling this monster, with no equipment. No stations to guide him. No path designed by brilliant young engineers or carved by strong young workers. No help. No one. Alone. On this monster.
I felt a fire, in me. It wasn't a big, passionate bonfire. It wasn't a blaze or an inferno. It was like a little candle. But, I knew, that it would never go out. Ever. It would gutter, and there would be times I felt like I would surely die from what I was doing. But every time I did, I saw that young monk in my mind's eye.
Alone. On this monster.
I picked up my right foot, and put it in front of my left one. It was all I could do, but it was enough.
Every step became torture, but I didn't care. I was beyond it. I knew that I could survive. I knew that I had already beaten the biggest enemy I had; myself. Only I could turn around. The mountain was there, it was just a big rock. It was a beautiful rock, born in titanic violence and filled with mysticism, but it was still a rock.
There is no 9th Station. It's called the Old 8th Station. By this time the sun was nearly up, and though we could finally see the summit from where we stood, we knew we couldn't make it in time. We would climb the mountain, Harry and I, but we wouldn't kill ourselves doing it. I ducked in to a small, heated hut and feasted on a cup of instant ramen. It was the same brand I'd lived on for my first few weeks here in Japan. It was made with hot water from a small electric heater. It was the most delicious food I have ever tasted.
I used the time in the hut to shed some layers and feel less bulky. After finishing my meal I suited up again. Harry had enjoyed the outdoors, resting himself as the other climbers walked by. When I exited, we continued.
Up we climbed. This was the steepest part of the trail. The mountain's slope had slowly increased in sheerness, like a tangent line on a graphing calculator. We had neared the summit, and the switchbacks became nearly vertical. The path alternated between switchback and stair, with some parts of the trail mercifully flat.
A few hundred meters above Old 8, Harry and I watched the sun rise. Out of a sea of white clouds, so thick they obscured everything, a blood-red dawn was born. Fire leaped in slow motion from beyond the edge of the planet as the Universe moved, and I was lucky enough to intercept the photons of another beautiful sunrise. I felt then, as I do now, not smallness, but wonder at the scope of the Cosmos. Perched atop a rather large volcanically extruded jag of rock, I was witness to the motion of everything. I won't say I felt a cosmic oneness, because I didn't. I understood, or shall I say comprehended, yet again, my place in the Universe.
I recall as I write this a notion from one of my favorite manga, Planetes. One of the characters waxes poetic about where space begins. Space, it is commonly held, begins anywhere between 50 to 100 miles above the surface of the Earth. This character remarks, quite correctly, that such a distinction is merely a human delineation. There is no true vacuum in Outer Space. It is quite sparse, don't misunderstand, but there's still stuff in every cubic meter of space. A molecule or two, at least. Our atmosphere is ludicrously thick compared to space, but the difference between the two is merely a matter of density. Space, this character states, is all around us.
Standing there, near the top of Mt. Fuji, I understood this concept very clearly. As we ascended Harry and I broke through the lower ceiling of the clouds. The night sky above us was clear, more clear than either of us had ever seen. The stars shone and glittered like diamonds and sapphires above us, and even the lens of the galaxy could be seen. The mountain hid the moon for a while, and our view was unspoiled by light.
As we climbed a storm brewed far off in the distance. We were above the ground-hugging storm clouds, and well far off, so we were in no danger. Purple flashes through the clouds told of lightning. We saw far more than one would standing beneath the clouds.
I finally saw the curve of the Earth. The limb, the edge of the world, beyond which I could not see, unless I climbed higher still.
Up we climbed. The sun warmed us as we ascended. As we ascended our breaks grew longer and more frequent. Every three steps and I would catch my breath. A step up something winded me. My bottle of O2 kept me going, though, and never once did I feel truly faint from lack of air. One of the longer stops was near the top, where Harry and I sunned ourselves as we lay within a small fold of rock. Every time I would look up I would feel my hurts sing in agony "No more!". I remembered the monk, and soon ceased to look up.
Finally, there were no more steps. Without realizing it, consciously at least, Harry and I had reached the top of the mountain. I looked down at the trail below me. I saw, in the way only a mountain climber can, the odd geometry of my conquest as it swept away from me into the sky.
The caldera of Mt. Fuji is inactive, a massive pucker in the mountain that does not smoke or hiss. The highest point on Mt. Fuji is on the opposite end of the caldera from where I stood, a small weather-monitoring station. Harry and I rested in a small shop at the top, buying a souvenir with the day's date hammered into it by one of the shop keepers. I enjoyed a cup of hot tea, eager to warm and hydrate myself.
I met Dan, one of the trainees that was with me my first week here in Japan. This is a coincidence of truly epic probability, though I will not say I was terribly surprised. Merely amused with the Universe as a whole.
After we'd gathered our strength, Harry and I began our descent. We would not go to the highest point; we were too tired. We had climbed the mountain, and a dozen more meters and a photo op, while quaint, would not feel rewarding after the monumental task we had just achieved.
Down we walked. This side of Fuji-san was switchbacks all the way down. These steps, though, were swept through the volcanic rock, soil, and predominantly dust of the mountain's last eruption. This was, quite possibly, the worst part of the journey. It was very, very boring. Going was slow; if you went too fast or too slow you'd slip and fall. The view was maddening, too; an endless scope of cloud and reddish stone as far as the eye could see. Beautiful at first, but soon monotonous.
Down we walked, keeping our spirits up with discussions and songs. Down we trudged, exhausted and dehydrated. Harry had carried no water that I'd seen, and had purchased none as we climbed. I had tried to keep myself fairly well lubricated. My own water supply dwindled as we walked, my patient rationing of it used to keep my fleshy bits moist in the rare atmosphere.
We soon came to the cloud ceiling, and were wrapped in thick fingers of cool cloudstuff. Our skin was soothed by cool breezes as we walked down the mountain. The sun sizzled our skin, but the clouds kept us cool.
We saw tractors climbing the trail we were on, distributing people and supplies to the stations and staff houses we passed. Signs dotted the mountainside, providing very incorrect data as to our location and the distance to the next station.
We finally reached the end of the switchbacks, finding ourselves nearly a quarter of the way around Mt. Fuji's middle from where we'd started. Down we walked on a far gentler slope, still difficult due to exhausted muscles, along a path that gave us a fantastic view of the cloud-wreathed forests that grew along Mt. Fuji's sides. We saw horses, blanketed against the night's chill and watched by half-dozing handlers. Their small fire crackled happily as we passed, and the horses watched our crossing. We reached a crossroads of sorts, and felt slight panic when the signs we spied began to point us back up the mountain. We asked some passerby and were pointed in the right direction, down a path we had not seen given our elevation.
We reached a variant of the 6th station, more a staging point than anything else. A large crowd had gathered and were preparing for their own ascent. I used the facilities there, despite the barbaric state of the portajohn I found there. Harry and I walked ever-downward. We met a family, Midwesterners by their accents, who asked for our own tale of the mountain. They were going up as we were going down. We told them of our ordeals and wished them luck. They informed us that we were very close to the 5th Station, upon hearing which I desired to buy them all a steak dinner.
We finally found the trail we had started upon the night before. The moon-kissed forest had transformed into a more mundane one in the light of the sun, but it was no less beautiful. The haze of the night's clouds had lifted, and shimmering like mirrors set into the Earth we saw some of the lakes that arced about Fuji's northern face.
We finally, finally reached the 5th Station. It was far more crowded than the night before, with hundreds of people finishing or starting their climbs. Parents shepherded children, buying gifts and treats.
Harry bought some souvenirs as I changed and repacked my bag, sorting the trash from the rest of my possessions. The bus we had caught that took us up the mountain had included a return ticket. I got the information to the next bus that would take us back down the rest of the way. Harry and I, immensely hungry now that we were no longer walking, had a simple breakfast of toast and jam at a nearby cafe.
We boarded the bus down to Kawaguchiko at 1:30PM. In front of us were a trio of Australian travelers (one Liverpudlian immigrant, his Australian wife, and their Australian friend). I struck up a conversation with them, finding them to be positively wonderful people. They ran a tattoo shop in Perth, and were in Japan for a tattoo convention that had happened the week before. They offered Harry and I seats, which we gladly took on the packed bus.
Harry fell asleep as I talked to the Australians about many a thing. Mostly politics, tattoos, and culture. The bus ride was long, and I enjoyed the conversation. My talks with Harry had slowly devolved as we climbed up and then down the mountain, exhaustion robbing our conversation of much meaning.
When the bus pulled into the station, we all disembarked. Harry and I said our goodbyes and parted ways. He and I had shared a close bond while we climbed, helping one another and keeping our collective spirits up. He was off to Tokyo to sleep and recover, and would catch his flight home the next day. I wished him luck in his endeavors.
I chatted a bit longer with the trio of Australians, helping them find a hotel and conversing more about life, the Universe, and everything. Finally, I realized that I needed to start back home, as the journey was long and the day was almost half-done.
I boarded a local for Tokyo, switching to an express at a station partway between the mountain and the city. In Tokyo I took the Yamanote line to Ueno where I attempted to get a ticket home. My money supply had dwindled, despite my careful rationing, and I was without funds to purchase any ticket home. I found an ATM outside of the station, though, and was able to procure enough funds to buy an Express ticket to Hitachi as well as a well-deserved (and much needed) dinner. I boarded the train and enjoyed my evening meal as it zipped through the night toward my home.
I napped a bit, but fear of missing my stop kept me awake. I had purchased a notebook in Ueno and jotted down some brainstorming notes for my D&D game.
At long last, a mere day and a half (a thousand years) after I left it, I arrived in Hitachi. I caught a cab home, not trusting my rubbery legs to bike or walk my way back. I showered and felt clean for the first time in what was surely decades and, without fanfare, unfolded my futon, and slept.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
A brief intermission
This post will have no journal entry number, because it's not a real journal entry. I'm asking for your advice and your opinion.
This is a bit of a spoiler for ya'll, but time has forced my hand. In short, I have received my contract renewal form. Currently, my contract ends on March 5th. I have been asked to continue my contract, up to a year.
Now, I don't want to cause you any worry. I am coming back, and I'm doing so in 2008. The only reason I don't come back right at the end of my contract is one of funding. I am loathe to admit it, but money is an issue here.
I'll illustrate the bigger picture for ya'll, so you can understand my conundrum.
I want to go to Graduate School. I'd like to enroll in the Digital Media program at Georgia Tech. The application deadline is around February 15th. I need to take the GRE, no problems there; I can do it here in Japan, and I have to provide a portfolio of digital work, some worry here, only because I don't have a lot of stuff.
Georgia Tech's grad school begins in August, in the Fall semester. If I got back at the end of my contract, I'd have nearly 5 months of nothing to do before school started again. I would like to spend some, probably a lot, of that time catching up with all of you. Visiting my friends and family, reintegrating myself with my life in the States.
However, that would also be 5 months of rent to pay. Five months of bills. Five months of resource-draining monetary obligation.
So, working here for a few months more has two things going for it: one, I am making money, and two, I'm paying Japanese living expenses, which are quite small. My utilities are very reasonable and I'm not paying to neither insure nor fuel an automobile.
However, this would be even more time separated from you all. I'm not pining for my loss; I don't lose sleep over the distance between you all and I. But I would like to come back and enjoy time with my friends and family before school starts.
When asked to make a decision, two days ago on the 4th of September, I decided to take 3 extra months of time. My new contract would last until the 5th of June, putting me back square in the summer with less than 2 months to get reacquainted with everyone. I'd also get a bigger end-of-contract bonus.
Yesterday I got word back from the head office that such a date would be very inconvenient for the company. My replacement would be pulled from a new batch of employees, and my new date would be incompatible with the training schedule. They gave me two choices: stay on for 2 more months and leave May 28th, or stay on for 3.5 months, and leave June 18th.
The deadline for my decision is this Friday, tomorrow for me.
In typical Nigel fashion, I misread the statement my manager gave me. I thought my choices were MARCH 28th and June 16th, rather than MAY 28th. Haha. This was going to be a long, soul-searching entry about difficult choices, but now I'm much happier with my options.
Currently, I would like to extend my contract for 2 more months. I don't get a bigger bonus, but what I will receive will be adequate. I'll still save a lot on utilities. I'll make two more month's pay. I'll have more than 2 months to enjoy life back in the States.
Are you all cool with that? I know I'm my own person and all that jazz, but you are my friends and loved ones, and my life would not be what it is today without all the love and support you've given me.
As a side note, I really dig that so many of you actually read this :) I wonder if I'm too verbose sometimes, or that this is all boring and junk. It really makes my day to see people commenting on this blog :)
This is a bit of a spoiler for ya'll, but time has forced my hand. In short, I have received my contract renewal form. Currently, my contract ends on March 5th. I have been asked to continue my contract, up to a year.
Now, I don't want to cause you any worry. I am coming back, and I'm doing so in 2008. The only reason I don't come back right at the end of my contract is one of funding. I am loathe to admit it, but money is an issue here.
I'll illustrate the bigger picture for ya'll, so you can understand my conundrum.
I want to go to Graduate School. I'd like to enroll in the Digital Media program at Georgia Tech. The application deadline is around February 15th. I need to take the GRE, no problems there; I can do it here in Japan, and I have to provide a portfolio of digital work, some worry here, only because I don't have a lot of stuff.
Georgia Tech's grad school begins in August, in the Fall semester. If I got back at the end of my contract, I'd have nearly 5 months of nothing to do before school started again. I would like to spend some, probably a lot, of that time catching up with all of you. Visiting my friends and family, reintegrating myself with my life in the States.
However, that would also be 5 months of rent to pay. Five months of bills. Five months of resource-draining monetary obligation.
So, working here for a few months more has two things going for it: one, I am making money, and two, I'm paying Japanese living expenses, which are quite small. My utilities are very reasonable and I'm not paying to neither insure nor fuel an automobile.
However, this would be even more time separated from you all. I'm not pining for my loss; I don't lose sleep over the distance between you all and I. But I would like to come back and enjoy time with my friends and family before school starts.
When asked to make a decision, two days ago on the 4th of September, I decided to take 3 extra months of time. My new contract would last until the 5th of June, putting me back square in the summer with less than 2 months to get reacquainted with everyone. I'd also get a bigger end-of-contract bonus.
Yesterday I got word back from the head office that such a date would be very inconvenient for the company. My replacement would be pulled from a new batch of employees, and my new date would be incompatible with the training schedule. They gave me two choices: stay on for 2 more months and leave May 28th, or stay on for 3.5 months, and leave June 18th.
The deadline for my decision is this Friday, tomorrow for me.
In typical Nigel fashion, I misread the statement my manager gave me. I thought my choices were MARCH 28th and June 16th, rather than MAY 28th. Haha. This was going to be a long, soul-searching entry about difficult choices, but now I'm much happier with my options.
Currently, I would like to extend my contract for 2 more months. I don't get a bigger bonus, but what I will receive will be adequate. I'll still save a lot on utilities. I'll make two more month's pay. I'll have more than 2 months to enjoy life back in the States.
Are you all cool with that? I know I'm my own person and all that jazz, but you are my friends and loved ones, and my life would not be what it is today without all the love and support you've given me.
As a side note, I really dig that so many of you actually read this :) I wonder if I'm too verbose sometimes, or that this is all boring and junk. It really makes my day to see people commenting on this blog :)
Ascent Countdown: One Week To Go!
J120 Monday August 20th
I can't recall much of what I did today. I know I painted my sketch a little. But, of course, that required I create a palette for my paints. I fished around in my trash box (what once held my printer, and is now stuffed with the bits of paper and plastic from a dozen discarded containers and wrappers) for a suitable slab of cardboard. I found one from the box that carried my copy of Harry Potter book 7. With careful, lazy strokes of my go-to Exacto razor blade I fashioned a thumb hole.
My easel was also made of cardboard. Unfortunately, one design flaw I had not foreseen was the relative lightness of cardboard. For one to apply acrylic paints with a brush, one needs a fair amount of weight in the object one is painting. Paper on cardboard do not push back with nearly enough Newtons of force (take that, D in physics!) to allow me to paint "hands free" as it were.
So, my freshly crafted paint palette lay upon the keyboard, whilst I held my easel-cum-back board.
My high school art classes came back to me in lurching jumps. As I painted I recalled, in precisely the incorrect order, how to paint something with acrylics. Reflecting upon my art classes in high school, I am amazed at the relatively tiny amount of art I produced in those days.
I wasn't a lazy artist. My lack of production was related to fear, fear that I would make a bad piece of art. My friends and classmates all seemed to be supremely talented, producing works of beauty and depth, whilst my attempts at creative expression resembled fingerpainting at best. I found some outlet in sculpture as my hands and mind were better suited for expression in more than two dimensions.
I hadn't given up on drawing after high school, but I did put it on the far back burner. I'd sketch or doodle in college classes, but nothing ever seemed to come out right. In my last summer semester at Georgia Tech I finally found an art class offered by the college. It was a Basic Drawing Options class, held every Thursday evening. My instructor was a truly unique woman, having built a restaurant, lived in a South American beach side tree house, and managed an art gallery in her life. She taught me a little trick that I've used ever since, and that is to draw what you see.
I'd heard this trope a few times before, but under her tutelage I found I actually have artistic talent. My painting skills still need work, but given enough time I can make a good, rough sketch of almost anything. Making it clean, or quick, or any other aspect of artistic beauty I'm working on, but with practice I know my skills can improve.
Sorry, tangent. I spent an hour or so painting, that much I remember. I know I relaxed at home for most of the day, and I can't recall going out in the evening.
J121 Tuesday August 21th
Some weeks prior, plans had been made for a portion of the Gang to scale Mt. Fuji. I had been asked if I was interested, to which I had replied 'yes', not really knowing what I was getting in to. Mt. Fuji was a large mountain of some sort, and climbing it involved walking uphill. Tonight, as it turned out, was to be a small planning meeting for the trip.
I went through my classes easily enough. No big surprises or pitfalls. When the evening rolled around I biked up to G-Bros to meet my companions. There was a healthy crowd of foreigners at the bar, but few Japanese patrons. Still, G-Bros is one of those places that really makes you feel at home and comfortable when you go there, so it was all good.
Josh was amongst the patrons there that night, and he and I caught up. He had left his spatula at my apartment after crafting his delicious burritos. I offered to return it to him, but he said that he was in no rush. Hopefully it will not become one of those artifacts that is destined to sit, patiently, in my kitchenware drawer, never to see the light of day again.
With Josh as a geek-out buddy, I participated very little in the Mt. Fuji discussion. Recommendations and figures were thrown about, stations to leave from, places to visit, paths to take, trains and buses, stuff like that. I didn't pay much attention to it all. In retrospect, that may have not been the best of ideas, but I survived the ordeal intact.
Truth be told, the rest of the gang weren't doing much in the way of Fuji-san talk, either. Most of the conversations were the standard English Teacher fare. Job status, odd students, frustrating moments. I headed home before too long, to sleep and awake the next day, refreshed.
J122 Wednesday August 22th
Nothing really big happened on this day.
J123 Thursday August 23th
Ditto, with the only exception being that I met Erin's friend Katie in the evening as I rode home. The two girls had been friends in University, apparently, and had applied for Amity jobs at the same time. They were not employed at the same location, so it would seem. I cannot recall where Katie works now, but I do know it's a fair ways off, making her visiting time rare.
Plans were made to have an evening at Second Earth the next night, Friday. Katie and Erin didn't know where the bar was. Being on my bike, and thus privy to higher mobility, I offered to show the two ladies where it was. I walked my bike alongside them as we chatted softly in the night. A short stroll westward found us standing before Second Earth's unique facade. It has a front section that is crammed with Western stuff. Apparently they buy a lot of their wacky merchandise from the only Costco in Japan, somewhere in Tokyo. As a result, they're the only place I've seen in the entire nation that sells Jiff peanut-butter. Ohhhh, how I am so very tempted to buy a jar.
Having fulfilled my duty, and feeling sleep beckon me with her siren's call, I made sure my two companions knew the way back to their home. I bid them good evening and set off down the back streets of Hitachi, toward my apartment. My favorite route along the back roads brings me behind the large shrine I'd found months ago. At night, its otherworldly atmosphere extends beyond the tiny forest that acts as its buffer to the normal world. A feeling of alien calm settles over the roads that touch its foundation, and my rides home through the shrine's shadow are always enjoyable.
J124 Friday August 24th
Recall, faithful reader, that I was helped in the purchase of my Tokyo bus ticket by a Japanese woman and her American coworker? I ran into them again on my way in to them this morning as I rode to work. Her name escapes me at the moment...Sahi? Shari? Something similar. It's so simple I forget it easily. We caught up in the few minutes I had before work began, telling one another of our exploits since we had last met. As we said our goodbyes and I turned to walk up the stairs leading to my office, I turned back. I caught up with the gaggle of young women that Shari was a part of and extended an invitation to Second Earth to her. I figured it wouldn't hurt, her being another new face.
That bit of Vortex happening finished for the day, I attended my educational duties. Work was, as always, uneventful and pleasant. After work I headed for home to clean up and change, and went back out to Second Earth. I really like Second Earth. It has a very different feel from G-Bros, but it's still very friendly and inviting. It feels like someone's living room rather than a restaurant. Y'know, if you could somehow ignore the bar and grill.
Billy Banks, the Tae-Bo guy, was on the big projection screen as the night's moving entertainment. Mr. Banks has come to Japan and become somewhat of a sensation. His exercise programs are all the rage now, and he has released several Japanese-language versions of his old material as well as new routines. Many, many of my students talk about him. It's kind of odd, really. And funny.
Katie and Erin showed up for the get-together, as did just about the rest of the Gang. I indulged in a triple berry smoothie (scandalously flavorful) and an order of tacos. I originally ordered a cheeseburger, but they had only one patty left (a common problem for many Japanese eateries, I've noticed). My coworker had ordered before me, also a cheeseburger, and so I gave up the coveted meat-cookie to him. I wasn't that partial, to be honest, I just wanted delicious food.
There was little Fuji-san talk that night, though some of the discussions about the mountain I actually listened to. I began to write up a mental check list of items to procure and pack for the adventure, slowly realizing it would not be a trivial task to climb a 3,700 meter mountain.
Stay tuned as I continue my agonizingly slow catch up! Not that I agonize about these entries; they're awfully fun to write. I just have some trouble getting up motivation to sit down and write them. However, I'm making good progress, and should be caught up within the week.
I can't recall much of what I did today. I know I painted my sketch a little. But, of course, that required I create a palette for my paints. I fished around in my trash box (what once held my printer, and is now stuffed with the bits of paper and plastic from a dozen discarded containers and wrappers) for a suitable slab of cardboard. I found one from the box that carried my copy of Harry Potter book 7. With careful, lazy strokes of my go-to Exacto razor blade I fashioned a thumb hole.
My easel was also made of cardboard. Unfortunately, one design flaw I had not foreseen was the relative lightness of cardboard. For one to apply acrylic paints with a brush, one needs a fair amount of weight in the object one is painting. Paper on cardboard do not push back with nearly enough Newtons of force (take that, D in physics!) to allow me to paint "hands free" as it were.
So, my freshly crafted paint palette lay upon the keyboard, whilst I held my easel-cum-back board.
My high school art classes came back to me in lurching jumps. As I painted I recalled, in precisely the incorrect order, how to paint something with acrylics. Reflecting upon my art classes in high school, I am amazed at the relatively tiny amount of art I produced in those days.
I wasn't a lazy artist. My lack of production was related to fear, fear that I would make a bad piece of art. My friends and classmates all seemed to be supremely talented, producing works of beauty and depth, whilst my attempts at creative expression resembled fingerpainting at best. I found some outlet in sculpture as my hands and mind were better suited for expression in more than two dimensions.
I hadn't given up on drawing after high school, but I did put it on the far back burner. I'd sketch or doodle in college classes, but nothing ever seemed to come out right. In my last summer semester at Georgia Tech I finally found an art class offered by the college. It was a Basic Drawing Options class, held every Thursday evening. My instructor was a truly unique woman, having built a restaurant, lived in a South American beach side tree house, and managed an art gallery in her life. She taught me a little trick that I've used ever since, and that is to draw what you see.
I'd heard this trope a few times before, but under her tutelage I found I actually have artistic talent. My painting skills still need work, but given enough time I can make a good, rough sketch of almost anything. Making it clean, or quick, or any other aspect of artistic beauty I'm working on, but with practice I know my skills can improve.
Sorry, tangent. I spent an hour or so painting, that much I remember. I know I relaxed at home for most of the day, and I can't recall going out in the evening.
J121 Tuesday August 21th
Some weeks prior, plans had been made for a portion of the Gang to scale Mt. Fuji. I had been asked if I was interested, to which I had replied 'yes', not really knowing what I was getting in to. Mt. Fuji was a large mountain of some sort, and climbing it involved walking uphill. Tonight, as it turned out, was to be a small planning meeting for the trip.
I went through my classes easily enough. No big surprises or pitfalls. When the evening rolled around I biked up to G-Bros to meet my companions. There was a healthy crowd of foreigners at the bar, but few Japanese patrons. Still, G-Bros is one of those places that really makes you feel at home and comfortable when you go there, so it was all good.
Josh was amongst the patrons there that night, and he and I caught up. He had left his spatula at my apartment after crafting his delicious burritos. I offered to return it to him, but he said that he was in no rush. Hopefully it will not become one of those artifacts that is destined to sit, patiently, in my kitchenware drawer, never to see the light of day again.
With Josh as a geek-out buddy, I participated very little in the Mt. Fuji discussion. Recommendations and figures were thrown about, stations to leave from, places to visit, paths to take, trains and buses, stuff like that. I didn't pay much attention to it all. In retrospect, that may have not been the best of ideas, but I survived the ordeal intact.
Truth be told, the rest of the gang weren't doing much in the way of Fuji-san talk, either. Most of the conversations were the standard English Teacher fare. Job status, odd students, frustrating moments. I headed home before too long, to sleep and awake the next day, refreshed.
J122 Wednesday August 22th
Nothing really big happened on this day.
J123 Thursday August 23th
Ditto, with the only exception being that I met Erin's friend Katie in the evening as I rode home. The two girls had been friends in University, apparently, and had applied for Amity jobs at the same time. They were not employed at the same location, so it would seem. I cannot recall where Katie works now, but I do know it's a fair ways off, making her visiting time rare.
Plans were made to have an evening at Second Earth the next night, Friday. Katie and Erin didn't know where the bar was. Being on my bike, and thus privy to higher mobility, I offered to show the two ladies where it was. I walked my bike alongside them as we chatted softly in the night. A short stroll westward found us standing before Second Earth's unique facade. It has a front section that is crammed with Western stuff. Apparently they buy a lot of their wacky merchandise from the only Costco in Japan, somewhere in Tokyo. As a result, they're the only place I've seen in the entire nation that sells Jiff peanut-butter. Ohhhh, how I am so very tempted to buy a jar.
Having fulfilled my duty, and feeling sleep beckon me with her siren's call, I made sure my two companions knew the way back to their home. I bid them good evening and set off down the back streets of Hitachi, toward my apartment. My favorite route along the back roads brings me behind the large shrine I'd found months ago. At night, its otherworldly atmosphere extends beyond the tiny forest that acts as its buffer to the normal world. A feeling of alien calm settles over the roads that touch its foundation, and my rides home through the shrine's shadow are always enjoyable.
J124 Friday August 24th
Recall, faithful reader, that I was helped in the purchase of my Tokyo bus ticket by a Japanese woman and her American coworker? I ran into them again on my way in to them this morning as I rode to work. Her name escapes me at the moment...Sahi? Shari? Something similar. It's so simple I forget it easily. We caught up in the few minutes I had before work began, telling one another of our exploits since we had last met. As we said our goodbyes and I turned to walk up the stairs leading to my office, I turned back. I caught up with the gaggle of young women that Shari was a part of and extended an invitation to Second Earth to her. I figured it wouldn't hurt, her being another new face.
That bit of Vortex happening finished for the day, I attended my educational duties. Work was, as always, uneventful and pleasant. After work I headed for home to clean up and change, and went back out to Second Earth. I really like Second Earth. It has a very different feel from G-Bros, but it's still very friendly and inviting. It feels like someone's living room rather than a restaurant. Y'know, if you could somehow ignore the bar and grill.
Billy Banks, the Tae-Bo guy, was on the big projection screen as the night's moving entertainment. Mr. Banks has come to Japan and become somewhat of a sensation. His exercise programs are all the rage now, and he has released several Japanese-language versions of his old material as well as new routines. Many, many of my students talk about him. It's kind of odd, really. And funny.
Katie and Erin showed up for the get-together, as did just about the rest of the Gang. I indulged in a triple berry smoothie (scandalously flavorful) and an order of tacos. I originally ordered a cheeseburger, but they had only one patty left (a common problem for many Japanese eateries, I've noticed). My coworker had ordered before me, also a cheeseburger, and so I gave up the coveted meat-cookie to him. I wasn't that partial, to be honest, I just wanted delicious food.
There was little Fuji-san talk that night, though some of the discussions about the mountain I actually listened to. I began to write up a mental check list of items to procure and pack for the adventure, slowly realizing it would not be a trivial task to climb a 3,700 meter mountain.
Stay tuned as I continue my agonizingly slow catch up! Not that I agonize about these entries; they're awfully fun to write. I just have some trouble getting up motivation to sit down and write them. However, I'm making good progress, and should be caught up within the week.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
And a-one, and a-two
J115 Wednesday August 15th
I did nothing the entire day. I ate the leftover burritos and watched Conan the Barbarian. There is something...sublime...about a day of sloth. I needed a non-mobile day, after the seemingly endless motion of the previous week.
Conan was delightful, as I remembered it to be. In fact, it was probably the first time I'd seen the original, non-TV-edited version in years. I was surprised at the overall silence of the film; there is very little spoken dialog. There are plenty of special features, including a making-of featurette which I watched a part of. It was quite an up-and-down production, with lots of drama about who would play whom, what the film would be like. Oliver Stone wrote one of the first script drafts, intending the series to be 12 films long (!) and staying very faithful to Robert E. Howard's stories of the iconic black-haired barbarian.
Alas, like all things Hollywood touches, such grandeur and respect was not to be. Now, don't get me wrong, I really like the Conan movies. Both of 'em. They're campy and pulpy and cheesy at times, but they get it right a surprising amount of the time, too. Seeing a 12-film epic, detailing the rise and fall of Conan the Barbarian, though, is the kind of thing I dream about, and don't tell anyone.
Wait...oh, crap.
Anyway. Nothing much happened other than that, today.
J116 Thursday August 16th
Back at work! This week is going to be only 3 days long, so that's a bonus. Today was uneventful, really. Just getting back in the swing of things, getting my teaching legs back, as it were.
J117 Friday August 17th
So uneventful, I can't remember anything!
J118 Saturday August 18th
Busty, as Saturdays always are, but uneventful. I'm pretty sure I went to G-Bros for a few.
J119 Sunday August 19th
Decided to go exploring today. I wanted to stretch my legs a bit, after being cooped up in the school for so long. I fear I'm developing an addiction to physical activity and the outdoors. God help me.
I had heard from a few students and friends that there was an Airsoft store near the local college campus. I set out to find this mythical store, knowing roughly where Ibaraki University was, but unsure as to how to get there exactly. I set off down and then up a series of hills to the south, testing my physical endurance. By the time I got to the top I was working up a healthy sweat, and I enjoyed the test of my body. My growing health and strength continues to amaze me, and it is a joyous thing to finally realize my physical potential. Plus, I look great.
I soon found myself lost, trying and failing to find the University. I ranged far, far south. I followed the main road quite a ways, and then turned west, knowing the University was on tha side of Route 6. Before I headed back north, though, I kept going West, toward the mountains. I found a river and followed it. On my side were houses and buildings packed, in the Japanese way, against the foot of a startlingly tall mountain. The river itself was walled, also in Japanese style, with steep walls of concrete blocks, like a canal. The riverbed was stony, and the water was shallow, but swift. A few bridges crossed the river, but I was content to peddle along a small pedestrian walkway alongside the road for the moment. I spied a trio of young Japanese people as they frolicked in the river, trying to stay cool in the heat of the day.
I saw that the road ahead quickly entered the mountains, and though I desperately love those regions of Japan, I was still keen to find the Airsoft store. I crossed a small car bridge and turned back east and north. I stopped almost immediately, though, because I had found a torii. I parked my bike and ascended the extremely steep, rough concrete-and-stone stairs. The shrine was a small one, set atop a high ridge with another set of steps leading up. The ridge was a borderline for a pressed gravel parking lot, nestled behind a small block of apartments. As I took in the scene a toddler from one of the apartments vocalized in the blissful joy of childhood.
After a brief moment of contemplation I descended the steps and mounted my bike once again. I had started the day with a refreshing bottle of Aquarius, a sports drink similar to Gatorade, but had finished my modest bottle quickly under the sun's rays. I purchased another bottle from a nearby vending machine and was on my way.
Down the curvy, twisty back roads of Hitachi I rolled, finding the main street once again. I took another detour, back west, hoping to find the University once again. Around the bend of the road I found myself on peeked another torii, this one set into the folds of a larger mountain. I parked my ride and investigated. This shrine was a much larger one, but it seemed very run down, almost abandoned.
I ascended the steps quietly and slowly. The sun, already beginning its downward arc, and was setting before me as I climbed. The air was filled with a golden light, soft and hazy through the cedars. The trees had become quite large since their planting and had begun to break through the concrete steps. Several of the trees that lined the steps were strung with paper charms and prayers, signs of divinity and respect for the tiny gods that lived within them; one was a massive tree trunk, capped in a copper lid. Another, a trio of cedar trees, were the ones doing the most damage to the stairs.
As I climbed, I was accompanied by a beautiful black and blue butterfly. He flitted about, staying near me but always out of reach. I tried to grab a few pictures of him, but I'm not sure if I succeeded. At one point he charged me, but at the last minute swerved skyward.
The stairs led to a small plateau, carved from the side of the mountain, upon which balanced a handful of buildings. The shrine itself looked better than what I'd imagined. It looked like it hadn't been swept in a few years, but it wasn't falling apart. I saw another set of stairs, moss-covered with a beautiful green carpet of life, which I gingerly climbed. At the top of this stair was a small graveyard and a road that led to an elementary school. A few kids played in the sandlot and their cries carried through the trees and sunlight. A low wall that held up the school's yard from the road was decorated with monsters and robots fighting one another, in a style no master painter could duplicate.
I turned around and walked down the stairs, pausing at the first plateau to offer my prayers at the main shrine. Down I went the main steps, meeting an old man ascending. We nodded an unspoken greeting/farewell, and I returned to my bike.
I rode on still, passing houses and businesses. Down one small side road I spied a branching path leading into the darkness of the mountain forests. I parked my bike and investigated this tiny patch of black. Nearing it made the shadows lighten, and I could see a narrow concrete stair case extending up a very shallow path of the mountain. I trekked upward, the little concrete steps snaking back and forth through the old forest. The smell of trees and summer breezes was everywhere, and the shadows were wet and cool.
The stairs ended in a broad concrete path which continued its inexorable climb upward. The path looked like no one had walked on it for years. It was covered in moss and twigs. Cedar skin scraped along in the gentle wind. Cicadas were chirping everywhere, all around me.
I reached another stair, this one of much broader steps and including a hand rail. I climbed this, curving around a small mountain peak. I exited the forest into what looked to be a neighborhood. I had climbed up the mountain and into a residential area. Cozy Japanese houses crowded around me as I walked. The mountain forest continued on to my right as I walked, with little gardens bursting with tomatoes and sunflowers sitting in a dozen feet of cleared ground.
I got to a cross street and stopped. Before me, to the north, the mountain curved down gently, giving me a view of the buildings off in the distance. The mountains marched from west to east, framing the scenery with their unmoving beauty. Above them, in stark contrast, was a highly mobile cloud. It was very large and very white, reflecting sunlight in sharp chiaroscuro, a battle between bright white and the cool azure of cloud-shadow. The cloud moved steadily from west to east, appearing to mock the mountains in their stillness. The other clouds of the day were wispy and hazy smears of color, like an impressionist's work. This cloud, though, was massive and bold. A king.
I marveled at the sight, taking a few pictures. Part of me wished I had brought my bike, so as to careen down the mountain and see what lay in that valley beyond. I still wanted to find the Airsoft shop, though, so I turned around and began to walk down. On the way toward the broad stairs I saw a pair of cicada pressed together, no doubt well into their own reproductive cycle. I observed them for a bit, as the large bugs are prone to hiding despite their size. I disturbed them, thinking at first they were dead, but an angry click from one as it flew away informed me I was incorrect. I apologized to the remaining bug and moved on.
I was reunited with my bike and wheeled on once more, down twisty roads. I found myself coming upon a large, densely wooded area contained within a tall fence. I quickly calculated my position and determined that I was near where the University should be. I followed the sidewalk, which hugged the fenced trees. Though closely packed, I could spy buildings and broad lawns on the other side, and a realization crept into my head. Arriving at the end of the sidewalk, where the road dead-ended onto a larger thoroughfare my assumption was correct; I had found the University, quite by accident.
I went south on the main street, not Route 6 as I had originally estimated by a smaller road that ran parallel. Rapidly finding nothing resembling an Airsoft store, I turned around. My searching was finally rewarded, for not even a block from the university I found it. A small hobby store, peddling fake guns, model trains, and tactical gear, sat in front of a small house. The house's lawn was quite beautiful; much care went into the maintenance of this yard. The grass was a bright green and it was dotted with tiny trees and stacks of stone.
I entered the shop, taking in the different models and accessories that were within. Airsoft, for those of you who do not know, is a hobby similar to Paintball. Airsoft guns are low-velocity weapons designed to look like real guns, but fire plastic pellets. One can purchase a spring gun, weakest of the propulsion methods, a gas gun, using compressed Green Gas to propel the pellet, or an electric gun, using a motorized mechanism to punch the pellet out of the gun. The guns can range from super-cheap to mind-bogglingly expensive.
I found a model I liked, a thick-barreled revolver, for about 5,000 yen. I decided against purchasing it, however, given that I was short on cash, and didn't see much point in buying a gun I was probably never going to use. Getting it back to the States would be a real pain, too, so I'd rather just save my money.
I noted the location of the store, in case I ever wanted to return, and made my way back toward Hitachi. I swept down a hill and realized where I was. With an odd click inside my head the day's journeys resolved themselves in my mental city map. I was still feeling energized from the day's activities, so I decided to investigate Ito Yokado for shopping opportunities.
On the way to the store I ran into Erin, a new teacher. This was her third week in Hitachi, and she was headed for the beach to enjoy the last few hours of sunlight. I offered to show her Ose beach, the beach most of the Gang uses, which she accepted. We chatted as we walked. When we got to the unfinished sea-bridge, she waited for me while I sped home and got my swimsuit. I dashed up stairs, changed into my trunks, and stuffed a towel into my backpack. I sped back to the bridge, making the entire round trip in less than 15 minutes.
Erin and I continued our walk, down the steep switchbacks to the seaside road that runs the length of Hitachi's beaches. When we got to Ose, there were a few groups of people enjoying the sun and surf. The waves were high, though not especially rough. One of my students was there with some of his friends, and we greeted one another. He was deep into his cups, though, and aside from joviality, didn't say much.
Erin convinced me to swim in the sea. I'd been leery of doing so before, given the numerous chemical plants that dot the countryside here. Still, there were plenty of people who swam and surfed here, and I had yet to see anyone with chemical burns. Erin and I took to the water. It was quite cold at first, but soon my body adjusted and it felt pleasantly warm. The water was murky, and even a few meters out from the shore you couldn't see or feel the bottom. The waves bobbed us up and down, and a few took us by surprise. In all, though, it was a good swim.
We got out after an hour or so and toweled off. We rinsed our feet at the near by water spigot and made our way back home. We wanted to get cleaned up and do something fun, but didn't quite know what to do. We decided to meet in about 30 minutes at G-Bros.
I went back home and showered. Though not deadly, the ocean had left a thin, greasy residue on my skin. I won't be swimming every day, that's for sure. In a fit of inspiration I grabbed my easel, crafted weeks ago but until now unused, and sketched my face in my dressing mirror. I don't know why I did it...it was just sudden creativity. I resolved to paint it the next day.
Erin and I met back up at G-Bros. There were plans for the Gang to get together and do something, but that was some time away. I took Erin to Kumamoto Ramen, seeing as how she hadn't been there yet. She was amazed at the size of the servings; never let it be said that Kumamoto skimps on portions.
The plans were scrapped for the Gang, and those that were interested decided to meet at Gusto Burger. Erin and I walked down, leisurely, and joined my coworker and Claire there. Matt joined us soon after. We all chatted happily. Claire informed us as to the intricate nature of politics and factions in England, Scotland and Ireland. I didn't know how complicated things were there. My coworker told me about a film he'd found on the Internet, called Zeitgeist. I'll talk more about that in a later entry.
After Gusto we all went our separate ways. Those gathered headed for the beach, but my day's explorations were weighing on me, and I decided to head home to sleep. Off I peddled, west and then south, until my little apartment building glimmered in the darkness of night. I enjoyed a few minutes on the Internet, but soon I felt sleep calling. I unfolded my futon and went to bed.
Monday's adventures to follow! I promise I'm still writing! It's all going on paper, now. I'm transcribing it as I find time.
I did nothing the entire day. I ate the leftover burritos and watched Conan the Barbarian. There is something...sublime...about a day of sloth. I needed a non-mobile day, after the seemingly endless motion of the previous week.
Conan was delightful, as I remembered it to be. In fact, it was probably the first time I'd seen the original, non-TV-edited version in years. I was surprised at the overall silence of the film; there is very little spoken dialog. There are plenty of special features, including a making-of featurette which I watched a part of. It was quite an up-and-down production, with lots of drama about who would play whom, what the film would be like. Oliver Stone wrote one of the first script drafts, intending the series to be 12 films long (!) and staying very faithful to Robert E. Howard's stories of the iconic black-haired barbarian.
Alas, like all things Hollywood touches, such grandeur and respect was not to be. Now, don't get me wrong, I really like the Conan movies. Both of 'em. They're campy and pulpy and cheesy at times, but they get it right a surprising amount of the time, too. Seeing a 12-film epic, detailing the rise and fall of Conan the Barbarian, though, is the kind of thing I dream about, and don't tell anyone.
Wait...oh, crap.
Anyway. Nothing much happened other than that, today.
J116 Thursday August 16th
Back at work! This week is going to be only 3 days long, so that's a bonus. Today was uneventful, really. Just getting back in the swing of things, getting my teaching legs back, as it were.
J117 Friday August 17th
So uneventful, I can't remember anything!
J118 Saturday August 18th
Busty, as Saturdays always are, but uneventful. I'm pretty sure I went to G-Bros for a few.
J119 Sunday August 19th
Decided to go exploring today. I wanted to stretch my legs a bit, after being cooped up in the school for so long. I fear I'm developing an addiction to physical activity and the outdoors. God help me.
I had heard from a few students and friends that there was an Airsoft store near the local college campus. I set out to find this mythical store, knowing roughly where Ibaraki University was, but unsure as to how to get there exactly. I set off down and then up a series of hills to the south, testing my physical endurance. By the time I got to the top I was working up a healthy sweat, and I enjoyed the test of my body. My growing health and strength continues to amaze me, and it is a joyous thing to finally realize my physical potential. Plus, I look great.
I soon found myself lost, trying and failing to find the University. I ranged far, far south. I followed the main road quite a ways, and then turned west, knowing the University was on tha side of Route 6. Before I headed back north, though, I kept going West, toward the mountains. I found a river and followed it. On my side were houses and buildings packed, in the Japanese way, against the foot of a startlingly tall mountain. The river itself was walled, also in Japanese style, with steep walls of concrete blocks, like a canal. The riverbed was stony, and the water was shallow, but swift. A few bridges crossed the river, but I was content to peddle along a small pedestrian walkway alongside the road for the moment. I spied a trio of young Japanese people as they frolicked in the river, trying to stay cool in the heat of the day.
I saw that the road ahead quickly entered the mountains, and though I desperately love those regions of Japan, I was still keen to find the Airsoft store. I crossed a small car bridge and turned back east and north. I stopped almost immediately, though, because I had found a torii. I parked my bike and ascended the extremely steep, rough concrete-and-stone stairs. The shrine was a small one, set atop a high ridge with another set of steps leading up. The ridge was a borderline for a pressed gravel parking lot, nestled behind a small block of apartments. As I took in the scene a toddler from one of the apartments vocalized in the blissful joy of childhood.
After a brief moment of contemplation I descended the steps and mounted my bike once again. I had started the day with a refreshing bottle of Aquarius, a sports drink similar to Gatorade, but had finished my modest bottle quickly under the sun's rays. I purchased another bottle from a nearby vending machine and was on my way.
Down the curvy, twisty back roads of Hitachi I rolled, finding the main street once again. I took another detour, back west, hoping to find the University once again. Around the bend of the road I found myself on peeked another torii, this one set into the folds of a larger mountain. I parked my ride and investigated. This shrine was a much larger one, but it seemed very run down, almost abandoned.
I ascended the steps quietly and slowly. The sun, already beginning its downward arc, and was setting before me as I climbed. The air was filled with a golden light, soft and hazy through the cedars. The trees had become quite large since their planting and had begun to break through the concrete steps. Several of the trees that lined the steps were strung with paper charms and prayers, signs of divinity and respect for the tiny gods that lived within them; one was a massive tree trunk, capped in a copper lid. Another, a trio of cedar trees, were the ones doing the most damage to the stairs.
As I climbed, I was accompanied by a beautiful black and blue butterfly. He flitted about, staying near me but always out of reach. I tried to grab a few pictures of him, but I'm not sure if I succeeded. At one point he charged me, but at the last minute swerved skyward.
The stairs led to a small plateau, carved from the side of the mountain, upon which balanced a handful of buildings. The shrine itself looked better than what I'd imagined. It looked like it hadn't been swept in a few years, but it wasn't falling apart. I saw another set of stairs, moss-covered with a beautiful green carpet of life, which I gingerly climbed. At the top of this stair was a small graveyard and a road that led to an elementary school. A few kids played in the sandlot and their cries carried through the trees and sunlight. A low wall that held up the school's yard from the road was decorated with monsters and robots fighting one another, in a style no master painter could duplicate.
I turned around and walked down the stairs, pausing at the first plateau to offer my prayers at the main shrine. Down I went the main steps, meeting an old man ascending. We nodded an unspoken greeting/farewell, and I returned to my bike.
I rode on still, passing houses and businesses. Down one small side road I spied a branching path leading into the darkness of the mountain forests. I parked my bike and investigated this tiny patch of black. Nearing it made the shadows lighten, and I could see a narrow concrete stair case extending up a very shallow path of the mountain. I trekked upward, the little concrete steps snaking back and forth through the old forest. The smell of trees and summer breezes was everywhere, and the shadows were wet and cool.
The stairs ended in a broad concrete path which continued its inexorable climb upward. The path looked like no one had walked on it for years. It was covered in moss and twigs. Cedar skin scraped along in the gentle wind. Cicadas were chirping everywhere, all around me.
I reached another stair, this one of much broader steps and including a hand rail. I climbed this, curving around a small mountain peak. I exited the forest into what looked to be a neighborhood. I had climbed up the mountain and into a residential area. Cozy Japanese houses crowded around me as I walked. The mountain forest continued on to my right as I walked, with little gardens bursting with tomatoes and sunflowers sitting in a dozen feet of cleared ground.
I got to a cross street and stopped. Before me, to the north, the mountain curved down gently, giving me a view of the buildings off in the distance. The mountains marched from west to east, framing the scenery with their unmoving beauty. Above them, in stark contrast, was a highly mobile cloud. It was very large and very white, reflecting sunlight in sharp chiaroscuro, a battle between bright white and the cool azure of cloud-shadow. The cloud moved steadily from west to east, appearing to mock the mountains in their stillness. The other clouds of the day were wispy and hazy smears of color, like an impressionist's work. This cloud, though, was massive and bold. A king.
I marveled at the sight, taking a few pictures. Part of me wished I had brought my bike, so as to careen down the mountain and see what lay in that valley beyond. I still wanted to find the Airsoft shop, though, so I turned around and began to walk down. On the way toward the broad stairs I saw a pair of cicada pressed together, no doubt well into their own reproductive cycle. I observed them for a bit, as the large bugs are prone to hiding despite their size. I disturbed them, thinking at first they were dead, but an angry click from one as it flew away informed me I was incorrect. I apologized to the remaining bug and moved on.
I was reunited with my bike and wheeled on once more, down twisty roads. I found myself coming upon a large, densely wooded area contained within a tall fence. I quickly calculated my position and determined that I was near where the University should be. I followed the sidewalk, which hugged the fenced trees. Though closely packed, I could spy buildings and broad lawns on the other side, and a realization crept into my head. Arriving at the end of the sidewalk, where the road dead-ended onto a larger thoroughfare my assumption was correct; I had found the University, quite by accident.
I went south on the main street, not Route 6 as I had originally estimated by a smaller road that ran parallel. Rapidly finding nothing resembling an Airsoft store, I turned around. My searching was finally rewarded, for not even a block from the university I found it. A small hobby store, peddling fake guns, model trains, and tactical gear, sat in front of a small house. The house's lawn was quite beautiful; much care went into the maintenance of this yard. The grass was a bright green and it was dotted with tiny trees and stacks of stone.
I entered the shop, taking in the different models and accessories that were within. Airsoft, for those of you who do not know, is a hobby similar to Paintball. Airsoft guns are low-velocity weapons designed to look like real guns, but fire plastic pellets. One can purchase a spring gun, weakest of the propulsion methods, a gas gun, using compressed Green Gas to propel the pellet, or an electric gun, using a motorized mechanism to punch the pellet out of the gun. The guns can range from super-cheap to mind-bogglingly expensive.
I found a model I liked, a thick-barreled revolver, for about 5,000 yen. I decided against purchasing it, however, given that I was short on cash, and didn't see much point in buying a gun I was probably never going to use. Getting it back to the States would be a real pain, too, so I'd rather just save my money.
I noted the location of the store, in case I ever wanted to return, and made my way back toward Hitachi. I swept down a hill and realized where I was. With an odd click inside my head the day's journeys resolved themselves in my mental city map. I was still feeling energized from the day's activities, so I decided to investigate Ito Yokado for shopping opportunities.
On the way to the store I ran into Erin, a new teacher. This was her third week in Hitachi, and she was headed for the beach to enjoy the last few hours of sunlight. I offered to show her Ose beach, the beach most of the Gang uses, which she accepted. We chatted as we walked. When we got to the unfinished sea-bridge, she waited for me while I sped home and got my swimsuit. I dashed up stairs, changed into my trunks, and stuffed a towel into my backpack. I sped back to the bridge, making the entire round trip in less than 15 minutes.
Erin and I continued our walk, down the steep switchbacks to the seaside road that runs the length of Hitachi's beaches. When we got to Ose, there were a few groups of people enjoying the sun and surf. The waves were high, though not especially rough. One of my students was there with some of his friends, and we greeted one another. He was deep into his cups, though, and aside from joviality, didn't say much.
Erin convinced me to swim in the sea. I'd been leery of doing so before, given the numerous chemical plants that dot the countryside here. Still, there were plenty of people who swam and surfed here, and I had yet to see anyone with chemical burns. Erin and I took to the water. It was quite cold at first, but soon my body adjusted and it felt pleasantly warm. The water was murky, and even a few meters out from the shore you couldn't see or feel the bottom. The waves bobbed us up and down, and a few took us by surprise. In all, though, it was a good swim.
We got out after an hour or so and toweled off. We rinsed our feet at the near by water spigot and made our way back home. We wanted to get cleaned up and do something fun, but didn't quite know what to do. We decided to meet in about 30 minutes at G-Bros.
I went back home and showered. Though not deadly, the ocean had left a thin, greasy residue on my skin. I won't be swimming every day, that's for sure. In a fit of inspiration I grabbed my easel, crafted weeks ago but until now unused, and sketched my face in my dressing mirror. I don't know why I did it...it was just sudden creativity. I resolved to paint it the next day.
Erin and I met back up at G-Bros. There were plans for the Gang to get together and do something, but that was some time away. I took Erin to Kumamoto Ramen, seeing as how she hadn't been there yet. She was amazed at the size of the servings; never let it be said that Kumamoto skimps on portions.
The plans were scrapped for the Gang, and those that were interested decided to meet at Gusto Burger. Erin and I walked down, leisurely, and joined my coworker and Claire there. Matt joined us soon after. We all chatted happily. Claire informed us as to the intricate nature of politics and factions in England, Scotland and Ireland. I didn't know how complicated things were there. My coworker told me about a film he'd found on the Internet, called Zeitgeist. I'll talk more about that in a later entry.
After Gusto we all went our separate ways. Those gathered headed for the beach, but my day's explorations were weighing on me, and I decided to head home to sleep. Off I peddled, west and then south, until my little apartment building glimmered in the darkness of night. I enjoyed a few minutes on the Internet, but soon I felt sleep calling. I unfolded my futon and went to bed.
Monday's adventures to follow! I promise I'm still writing! It's all going on paper, now. I'm transcribing it as I find time.
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