J113.1 Monday August 13th (again)
When last we left our intrepid explorer, he was about to enter the mysterious temple of Nishi Otani.
Through the gates was a wide plaza. I went into what looked like a visitor's center, which was packed, but quickly exited given that there was no information about what exactly this place was. It was different from a normal temple or shrine for two reasons: one, it had a lot more people in it than I'd ever seen, and two, it had modern buildings within the temple grounds. Japanese temples don't have modern architecture within their walls, for the most part, but Otani had two large, linked modern structures.
I went through a second set of gates to find myself facing a familiar style; that of the main temple. Two or three dozen people surrounded the temple's main entrance at any given time, though the crowd was constantly shifting. Some came and others left, but always there was a crowd. Heavy clouds of thick incense-smoke billowed from within the crowd, bringing an oddly soporific feeling to the temple grounds.
As I neared, I saw that people were engaged in a series of devotional activities. Some were lighting prayer candles in massive brass lanterns on either side of the temple's door. Others were lighting incense in a large wooden box situated beneath the temple's awning. Still more were leaving offerings of food, drink, trinkets and flowers on a series of wide tables that flanked the donation box. Still others were casting monetary offerings into the donation box. Everyone was praying, but whereas I'd seen Japanese people pray at temples before, I saw they were sporting a new accessory. They were using bracelets of prayer beads. They would be carried either in a bag or on the wrist, but when it came time to pray, they pressed their hands together in the standard Judeo-Christian method and put their joined hands through the loop of beads.
It was an interesting gesture; at once familiar and alien. The beads were many and varied, with each person sporting a different style.
I took a few pictures of the events, gave my own donation to the temple and prayed, bare-handed. I set off to explore more of the temple grounds. One large, traditional, Japanese building was undergoing repairs or renovations, and was off-limits to the public. Another, located at the far end of the temple plaza, was a building for Buddhist services. On the south side of the plaza was the entrance to the larger of the modern buildings, a twin structure linked by a broad causeway. I ventured forth and into one of the buildings, not knowing what lay within. I stepped into a modest but elegant decor. It was very cool and very quiet, with the occasional whispered word or clear chime of a bell or gong echoing down the many passages.
Elevators serviced what I could only assume were multiple floors, and I walked from the lobby into a carpeted section of person-height rows of shelves. It almost looked like a library, except the shelves had no books. Instead, they sported a series of gilded double doors. I saw a few families there, one of which had opened one set of the small brass doors, revealing what looked like a tiny shrine. Flowers and offerings of sake and food adorned the tiny shrines, and that's when I realized what this place was.
It was a mausoleum.
The remains of thousands of people lay quiet and still in tiny family shrines. Families came here to pay respects to deceased relatives, bringing children to pay respects for grandparents who never met them while they lived.
I was still for a moment, taking in the love that echoed through the years. This was a sacred place, and I could almost feel the familial pride emanating in gentle waves from the miniature tombs that surrounded me. Everywhere was cast in soft, brassy light, and despite the air conditioned interior, I felt a sense of comfort and tranquility.
I left the mausoleum and entered the causeway that linked the buildings with the information center. I tried to find a strand of prayer beads for my own, as there were several stands selling them within the temple grounds, but my hands were a bit too big for the ones I found.
When I entered the visitor's center again I saw a small souvenir shop stuffed into the building's back corner. Amongst the many things to purchase were more prayer beads, and I took my time to see if I could find any that fit. At last, I found one that seemed right. It was still a bit tight, but not prohibitively so. It was also affordable, which is always a nice bonus!
I left the temple via the garden again, this time walking a shaded path that put me back on the street near where I'd met the old man and his family. I consulted my map and determined my location to be near the next place I'd wanted to investigate: Kyomizu Temple.
I followed the crowds once again, up a long and steep hill, not knowing what I would find at the top.
Next time, faithful readers, I'll finish my tale of Kyoto.
Showing posts with label temple. Show all posts
Showing posts with label temple. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
Pure Water
J113 Monday August 13th
Up and at 'em!
I heard two people coming in the guest house just before I fell asleep the night before; Mrs. Tani had rented out the other room to some guests. I couldn't tell anything from the sounds they made; they were very quiet and considerate. I did know there were two of them, though.
Some time earlier in the morning, before I had woken up, Mrs. Tani had left some breakfast for myself and her other two guests. Ninja-like in her undetectability, she had left a loaf of bread, some jam, and a small basket of pastries. I enjoyed a pastry, not knowing how hungry the other guests would be.
I had a quick shower in the tiniest shower ever. My bathroom was about two and a half feet wide and maybe 6 feet long, with the door and the toilet on opposite sides of the room's longest dimension. The entire room was, also, the shower stall. I made sure to keep the water nice and cool, and had a nice, brisk shower.
After I dressed, I walked back out into the kitchen. The other guests had appeared, and were enjoying breakfast. They were an Italian couple, Maulo and Clara. They had gotten in after I did the night before. They, like so many other foreigners I had met in Kyoto, were on vacation. I recommended Kinkakuji and Nijo castle to them while they munched on pastries and toast.
After a few minutes of story swapping, I figured it was time to head out for the day. I donned my swim suit, it being the only clean pair of shorts I had left, and headed out into the day.
The next point I am going to make is very important. It is intended for men, but merely due to the fact of our differing physiognomy compared to the female gender. I am sure, though, given the fact that this is an infinite universe, that women have and will be met with the same, or at least a similar, problem.
Do not wear a swimsuit instead of pants.
There may be exceptions to this rule. Zombie attacks are, perhaps, situations where one's decision time for clothing is hampered. Yeowza.
Weighed down as I was, with my swimsuit doing horrific things to my undercarriage, I sought relief. I hopped on the bus and headed for the big Denki my hotel-finding friends had suggested the night before. I found the place with no problems, thanks to their excellent map-making skills, and found myself in a wonderland of electronic capitalism.
I found the digicam section without trouble, and within I found the perfect card; a nice big 2-gig number for about 3400 yen. It wasn't as good a deal as I could find in Akihabara, but given that that shopping district was over 500 kilometers away, I made do. I purchased the memory card, a memory card case (for the wrong size, but it does the job well enough) and a neck-strap. I had carried my camera by hand the day before, and though that was nice, it made handling anything else, like food or drink, difficult at best.
After acquiring my purchases, I located the nearest bathroom and made some adjustments to my clothing options. I put on my awesome safari shorts. These things are a nice, dusty olive color and have more pockets than God. They're a little loose (best problem to ever have) but my new belt does the trick just fine. I performed the operation whilst straddling a Japanese squatter toilet, which was quite an adventure. Luckily I had no mishaps, and emerged from the stall reequipped and ready for action.
I paused at the exit hall of the denki to swap memory cards and install my new neck strap. I also purchased a Pokemon cellphone strap thingie, 'cause it was cool. I wondered how I was going to get back to the station, to stash my big bag again, and as if by providence, I saw that the denki was, literally, across the street from one of the local train stations.
I strode across and hopped the next train to the station, a local that gave me a cool elevated view of the city. I stowed my bag once again and was ready for sight seeing galore! I wanted to explore the city's eastern side, given that it had a large number of temples and shrines that I'd been urged to visit. I calculated the bus to take and went to the bus platform, but was met with a truly titanic line. I was lucky enough to stand in a patch of shade, but still the day's heat swaddled me like a thick blanket. After nearly 20 minutes of waiting the correct bus arrived, and the line slowly filled it up. I was the last one aboard, with every seat filled and the aisle similarly packed. I myself was standing in the stair well in the rear of the bus.
I managed to hop up onto an equipment casing that was beneath an AC vent, saving my feet, keeping me cool, and providing a little more room for the other passengers. Alas, this was not the best bus ride in the world. Not only was it super-crowded, but traffic was very, very bad. Today was the start of Obon, a week-long holiday that's similar to Thanksgiving in the States, and everyone was going home to visit family (living and dead).
We inched along within the bus, lurching back and forth as the driver navigated traffic. We stopped every once in a while to take on new passengers, and despite the crazed packed nature of the bus others still crammed in. After nearly 30 minutes of this kind of driving, I had figured it would be faster to just walk. I got off at the next stop, where a bus attendant was gathering bus fare in his hat. I was glad to be free of the crush and I examined my surroundings.
I was near a large temple of some sort, hidden within greenery, and saw large crowds streaming in roughly the same direction. Remember what I said about crowds yesterday? So, I followed the lines and found myself staring at a small pond. I took a break in the shade, enjoying some Aquarius (a nice sports drink) and trying to cool off after being in the bus. An older gentleman stood next to me, and started up a conversation in simple English.
He informed me of Obon's beginning and the name of the temple we were looking at, Nishi Otani. I met his family; his daughter and wife, and his toddler granddaughter. I waved hello to the little girl and was met with adorable shyness. Her grandfather told me that I was the first foreigner she had ever seen, which only made me smile more. She and her mom were keeping cool with a big bowl of shaved ice.
I said farewell and headed into Otani. The walkway was being decorated with paper lanterns by a few men on ladders in preparation for the night's festivities, and many people were walking to and from the temple's massive gates.
What did I see within the temple? Only time will tell, faithful reader, for the time has come for me to do my morning calisthenics and head in to work.
Up and at 'em!
I heard two people coming in the guest house just before I fell asleep the night before; Mrs. Tani had rented out the other room to some guests. I couldn't tell anything from the sounds they made; they were very quiet and considerate. I did know there were two of them, though.
Some time earlier in the morning, before I had woken up, Mrs. Tani had left some breakfast for myself and her other two guests. Ninja-like in her undetectability, she had left a loaf of bread, some jam, and a small basket of pastries. I enjoyed a pastry, not knowing how hungry the other guests would be.
I had a quick shower in the tiniest shower ever. My bathroom was about two and a half feet wide and maybe 6 feet long, with the door and the toilet on opposite sides of the room's longest dimension. The entire room was, also, the shower stall. I made sure to keep the water nice and cool, and had a nice, brisk shower.
After I dressed, I walked back out into the kitchen. The other guests had appeared, and were enjoying breakfast. They were an Italian couple, Maulo and Clara. They had gotten in after I did the night before. They, like so many other foreigners I had met in Kyoto, were on vacation. I recommended Kinkakuji and Nijo castle to them while they munched on pastries and toast.
After a few minutes of story swapping, I figured it was time to head out for the day. I donned my swim suit, it being the only clean pair of shorts I had left, and headed out into the day.
The next point I am going to make is very important. It is intended for men, but merely due to the fact of our differing physiognomy compared to the female gender. I am sure, though, given the fact that this is an infinite universe, that women have and will be met with the same, or at least a similar, problem.
Do not wear a swimsuit instead of pants.
There may be exceptions to this rule. Zombie attacks are, perhaps, situations where one's decision time for clothing is hampered. Yeowza.
Weighed down as I was, with my swimsuit doing horrific things to my undercarriage, I sought relief. I hopped on the bus and headed for the big Denki my hotel-finding friends had suggested the night before. I found the place with no problems, thanks to their excellent map-making skills, and found myself in a wonderland of electronic capitalism.
I found the digicam section without trouble, and within I found the perfect card; a nice big 2-gig number for about 3400 yen. It wasn't as good a deal as I could find in Akihabara, but given that that shopping district was over 500 kilometers away, I made do. I purchased the memory card, a memory card case (for the wrong size, but it does the job well enough) and a neck-strap. I had carried my camera by hand the day before, and though that was nice, it made handling anything else, like food or drink, difficult at best.
After acquiring my purchases, I located the nearest bathroom and made some adjustments to my clothing options. I put on my awesome safari shorts. These things are a nice, dusty olive color and have more pockets than God. They're a little loose (best problem to ever have) but my new belt does the trick just fine. I performed the operation whilst straddling a Japanese squatter toilet, which was quite an adventure. Luckily I had no mishaps, and emerged from the stall reequipped and ready for action.
I paused at the exit hall of the denki to swap memory cards and install my new neck strap. I also purchased a Pokemon cellphone strap thingie, 'cause it was cool. I wondered how I was going to get back to the station, to stash my big bag again, and as if by providence, I saw that the denki was, literally, across the street from one of the local train stations.
I strode across and hopped the next train to the station, a local that gave me a cool elevated view of the city. I stowed my bag once again and was ready for sight seeing galore! I wanted to explore the city's eastern side, given that it had a large number of temples and shrines that I'd been urged to visit. I calculated the bus to take and went to the bus platform, but was met with a truly titanic line. I was lucky enough to stand in a patch of shade, but still the day's heat swaddled me like a thick blanket. After nearly 20 minutes of waiting the correct bus arrived, and the line slowly filled it up. I was the last one aboard, with every seat filled and the aisle similarly packed. I myself was standing in the stair well in the rear of the bus.
I managed to hop up onto an equipment casing that was beneath an AC vent, saving my feet, keeping me cool, and providing a little more room for the other passengers. Alas, this was not the best bus ride in the world. Not only was it super-crowded, but traffic was very, very bad. Today was the start of Obon, a week-long holiday that's similar to Thanksgiving in the States, and everyone was going home to visit family (living and dead).
We inched along within the bus, lurching back and forth as the driver navigated traffic. We stopped every once in a while to take on new passengers, and despite the crazed packed nature of the bus others still crammed in. After nearly 30 minutes of this kind of driving, I had figured it would be faster to just walk. I got off at the next stop, where a bus attendant was gathering bus fare in his hat. I was glad to be free of the crush and I examined my surroundings.
I was near a large temple of some sort, hidden within greenery, and saw large crowds streaming in roughly the same direction. Remember what I said about crowds yesterday? So, I followed the lines and found myself staring at a small pond. I took a break in the shade, enjoying some Aquarius (a nice sports drink) and trying to cool off after being in the bus. An older gentleman stood next to me, and started up a conversation in simple English.
He informed me of Obon's beginning and the name of the temple we were looking at, Nishi Otani. I met his family; his daughter and wife, and his toddler granddaughter. I waved hello to the little girl and was met with adorable shyness. Her grandfather told me that I was the first foreigner she had ever seen, which only made me smile more. She and her mom were keeping cool with a big bowl of shaved ice.
I said farewell and headed into Otani. The walkway was being decorated with paper lanterns by a few men on ladders in preparation for the night's festivities, and many people were walking to and from the temple's massive gates.
What did I see within the temple? Only time will tell, faithful reader, for the time has come for me to do my morning calisthenics and head in to work.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Catch Up! part 2!
J105 Sunday August 6th
I woke up at a leisurely 9AM. I set out an hour later to do things. Important things. I was determined; I wasn't going to just sit in my apartment all day and surf the internet. No, today was going to be different.
First thing I had to do was get my bike fixed. Luckily, about a kilometer (give or take a few hundred meters) away is a bike shop, run by a nice old Japanese guy. I walked my crippled vehicle to his shop, delighted to see it was both open and staffed by its lone employee.
"Pwah?" the old man asked, looking at my bike and making an explosive gesture with his hands. Did your bike's rear tire burst? he asked with gesture and onomatopoeia. I nodded an emphatic yes, and he quickly set about fixing my bike. He wedged the outer rubber skin of the tire off with a short chisel and a turn of his wrist. Then he unscrewed the actual inflatable tube, made of surprisingly thin rubber (or polymer, I wasn't quite sure which) and pulled it free of my bike.
He dragged a small bin of water, where he kept it I knew not, and tested the tire's cohesion. He inflated it and then pushed segments of the tube under the small water bin, looking for bubbles. He found the offending spot, one and only one puncture. He patched it with a healthy dollop of rubber cement and an ovoid patch. The glue set almost instantly, and he set about reinstalling the tube and the protective rubber shell. The entire process took maybe 12 minutes from start to finish. He charged me 1000 yen for the job, which I gladly paid.
My bike felt like it was brand-new. I rode with the serene grace only a pair of well-inflated tires can give. The bumps and cracks of the road were almost unfelt as I streaked down side streets and main roads. I took my time, luxuriating in the ride. I made my way to the barber shop that had been pointed out to me the night before. It was across the street from G-Bros, easily found thanks to its tell-tale barber's pole.
I went in and was told there would be a 20 minute wait. No worries, I said, and hopped back on the old bike-a-roo. I pedaled my way to the nearest conbini to have breakfast. I enjoyed my rice balls and tea on the steps of the big shrine just off of Route 6. Every once in a while a person would walk by. Those that did, the little old ladies at least, gave the shrine a polite bow, stopping to administer the respectful gesture before resuming their walk.
I returned to the barber shop, fortified by my morning meal, and decided to wait in its air conditioned interior, rather than the growing heat outside. The two staff went about their business, happily cutting the hair of two gentlemen who had been before me. One thing you must know about Japanese barbers is that they take their time. Most hair cuts cost at least 3000 yen, with the majority being around the 5000 yen mark. You get what you pay for, though.
When it was my turn, I was delighted to discover my barber, a young man, knew some English. We had a conversation mixed between English and Japanese while he snipped and trimmed. Japanese barbery is like...sculpting...hair. Lots of little cuts, very few big ones. For example; my sideburns had been growing out of control the last few weeks. He spent, no kidding, about 15 minutes on each one, trimming it down to a uniform, smart-looking length. Same with every other bit of my hair.
My barber had been learning his trade for nearly 7 years in another part of Japan, only recently returning to Hitachi. I got a hair cut, a scalp massage (which was heavenly) and shampoo/rinse. At this place, all that would have normally cost 3000 yen. Scandalous, I know, but realize that that is the *cheapest* hair cut I've ever seen in Japan. But, there's a kicker. I mentioned that I had been referred to this place by a friend, Mike, worker at my company's sister company. When the barbers realized this, they immediately knocked off 1000 yen from my bill. I paid only 2000 yen for the entire thing. Amazing.
After that, I was off to Joyful Yamashin, the local Home Center. A Home Center is a big store, kind of like a Home Depot of Lowes. The only difference is that you can find *anything* that you use in your home. This includes lumber and wall paint and light fixtures. It also includes things like car accessories, clothes, bath products, and toys. You can find just about whatever you want there. Myself, I was looking for a good hat. I have only one, a ball cap, which is precious to me. It's a gift from my Dad, and I'd rather not let it get eaten, or lost, or burned in my many adventures. Plus, it's a ball cap, and I've had a hankering for a wide-brimmed hat. Preferably straw.
And, Lo! I found one! It's a good fit, flexible and snug but not brain-killing. A nice dark blue cloth band about the head-perching bit. And only 700 yen. Yoink! I also picked up a bath towel, I'm in need of a new one, and another belt. This one has a bit more slack than my other new one, and it was nearly 1/3 of the price.
I paid for my new purchases and decided to head home. The day's heat was nearing its peak, and I had finished my to-do list. I came back home and rested, saving my energies for the next day. Golf was the order of the day, and I had to be fresh for it. I did some writing, but not on this blog, and went to sleep around midnight.
I woke up at a leisurely 9AM. I set out an hour later to do things. Important things. I was determined; I wasn't going to just sit in my apartment all day and surf the internet. No, today was going to be different.
First thing I had to do was get my bike fixed. Luckily, about a kilometer (give or take a few hundred meters) away is a bike shop, run by a nice old Japanese guy. I walked my crippled vehicle to his shop, delighted to see it was both open and staffed by its lone employee.
"Pwah?" the old man asked, looking at my bike and making an explosive gesture with his hands. Did your bike's rear tire burst? he asked with gesture and onomatopoeia. I nodded an emphatic yes, and he quickly set about fixing my bike. He wedged the outer rubber skin of the tire off with a short chisel and a turn of his wrist. Then he unscrewed the actual inflatable tube, made of surprisingly thin rubber (or polymer, I wasn't quite sure which) and pulled it free of my bike.
He dragged a small bin of water, where he kept it I knew not, and tested the tire's cohesion. He inflated it and then pushed segments of the tube under the small water bin, looking for bubbles. He found the offending spot, one and only one puncture. He patched it with a healthy dollop of rubber cement and an ovoid patch. The glue set almost instantly, and he set about reinstalling the tube and the protective rubber shell. The entire process took maybe 12 minutes from start to finish. He charged me 1000 yen for the job, which I gladly paid.
My bike felt like it was brand-new. I rode with the serene grace only a pair of well-inflated tires can give. The bumps and cracks of the road were almost unfelt as I streaked down side streets and main roads. I took my time, luxuriating in the ride. I made my way to the barber shop that had been pointed out to me the night before. It was across the street from G-Bros, easily found thanks to its tell-tale barber's pole.
I went in and was told there would be a 20 minute wait. No worries, I said, and hopped back on the old bike-a-roo. I pedaled my way to the nearest conbini to have breakfast. I enjoyed my rice balls and tea on the steps of the big shrine just off of Route 6. Every once in a while a person would walk by. Those that did, the little old ladies at least, gave the shrine a polite bow, stopping to administer the respectful gesture before resuming their walk.
I returned to the barber shop, fortified by my morning meal, and decided to wait in its air conditioned interior, rather than the growing heat outside. The two staff went about their business, happily cutting the hair of two gentlemen who had been before me. One thing you must know about Japanese barbers is that they take their time. Most hair cuts cost at least 3000 yen, with the majority being around the 5000 yen mark. You get what you pay for, though.
When it was my turn, I was delighted to discover my barber, a young man, knew some English. We had a conversation mixed between English and Japanese while he snipped and trimmed. Japanese barbery is like...sculpting...hair. Lots of little cuts, very few big ones. For example; my sideburns had been growing out of control the last few weeks. He spent, no kidding, about 15 minutes on each one, trimming it down to a uniform, smart-looking length. Same with every other bit of my hair.
My barber had been learning his trade for nearly 7 years in another part of Japan, only recently returning to Hitachi. I got a hair cut, a scalp massage (which was heavenly) and shampoo/rinse. At this place, all that would have normally cost 3000 yen. Scandalous, I know, but realize that that is the *cheapest* hair cut I've ever seen in Japan. But, there's a kicker. I mentioned that I had been referred to this place by a friend, Mike, worker at my company's sister company. When the barbers realized this, they immediately knocked off 1000 yen from my bill. I paid only 2000 yen for the entire thing. Amazing.
After that, I was off to Joyful Yamashin, the local Home Center. A Home Center is a big store, kind of like a Home Depot of Lowes. The only difference is that you can find *anything* that you use in your home. This includes lumber and wall paint and light fixtures. It also includes things like car accessories, clothes, bath products, and toys. You can find just about whatever you want there. Myself, I was looking for a good hat. I have only one, a ball cap, which is precious to me. It's a gift from my Dad, and I'd rather not let it get eaten, or lost, or burned in my many adventures. Plus, it's a ball cap, and I've had a hankering for a wide-brimmed hat. Preferably straw.
And, Lo! I found one! It's a good fit, flexible and snug but not brain-killing. A nice dark blue cloth band about the head-perching bit. And only 700 yen. Yoink! I also picked up a bath towel, I'm in need of a new one, and another belt. This one has a bit more slack than my other new one, and it was nearly 1/3 of the price.
I paid for my new purchases and decided to head home. The day's heat was nearing its peak, and I had finished my to-do list. I came back home and rested, saving my energies for the next day. Golf was the order of the day, and I had to be fresh for it. I did some writing, but not on this blog, and went to sleep around midnight.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
And now for the *real* post of the day
J83 Monday, July 9th 2007
Oh, what a week it has been! I've been trying to find the time to post (and do many other things) but petty desires like sleep and food have robbed what little free time I have. NEVERTHELESS, I am working toward the eventual goal of daily blog posts here. Small steps, though; I'm thinking of moving up to twice or thrice weekly at first.
Anyway!
Tuesday the 3rd of July
Recovering from the weekend.
Wednesday the 4th of July
Happy Birthday, America! This is the first of *three* celebratory days I will have for this holiday! Don't forget, readers, I'm a day in the future compared to America.
Thursday the 5th of July
Happy Birthday, America! Again! On my Thursday, it was your Wednesday, so...y'know...another celebration. Mostly it was happy thoughts :)
Friday the 6th of July
A slow day. Mercifully, I only had 4 classes thanks to a cancellation at the last minute. My week tends to be heavy at the beginning and end, but Thursdays, and most Fridays, tend to be light, giving me a needed break to collect my energies.
Friday night proved to be a fascinating adventure, though. Josh, resident Guilty Gear aficionado whom with E.J. an I became acquainted while my brother was visiting, invited me to play said game at the B.B.A., given that that bar is equipped with a PS3. I obliged, but we ran into a bit of a snag. Plans had been made without my knowledge, and the evening was not to be spent playing fighting games.
I waited at B.B.A. for a few hours after work, all the while conscious of the time slipping by, time I could be sleeping. Finally, Josh showed up. He informed me that we would be going elsewhere, so I settled my tab and joined him outside. He introduced me to an acquaintance of his, a sushi restaurant owner who's name eludes me at the moment. Josh and his mysterious friend took our small party 'round a corner, just a block down the street from B.B.A. to a small door in the wall. Josh's friend, a heavy set man wearing a Boyscout Uniform shirt over a bright red t-shirt and a straw cowboy hat, ascended the stairs we found behind the door with a speed that his bulk hid well. Josh alighted quickly, motioning me to follow. I asked where we were going, and Josh replied quite simply "A Snack Bar."
A Snack Bar, for those of you who have never been to Japan, is a fascinating establishment. During crowded times, it is very much like a normal Japanese bar; one sits down, drinks and/or smokes heavily, and has a good time yelling what is essentially nonsense at other people. When it is not crowded, however, it transforms. Aside from the bartender, who is usually the owner, the staff is almost always composed entirely of young, attractive women. Their job is to serve the eponymous snacks and the beer. They also are there to talk to you. You don't pay for individual items at a Snack Bar, you pay for time. An hour at this place ran a person about 3,000 yen. A young lady of the place will sit with you as you eat and drink, engaging you in conversation and, generally, appear interested in your job, your life, or any other topic of conversation you care to come up with.
This evening, it was crowded, so no one-on-one treatment. The beer was nice, the snacks were...interesting...and the young attractive women were young and attractive. Josh and I relaxed and had some light geek talk, while every few minutes our mysterious benefactor would talk to one or both of us about his daughter that found him two years ago. From Africa.
After an hour or so of laughter, merriment, and rough translations of African locations, Josh's friend decided to hit the road. I stood to leave, and thus pay, but both Josh and his friend said that I didn't have to. The owner of the bar just smiled and waved as we left. I was shocked, but it was happening before my very eyes; I had gotten a free drink in Japan. Was it some secret agreement between Josh's friend and the Bar's owner? Old friends, or even rivals, sharing a quiet moment of peace before their never ending struggle for the snack-dollars (yen in this case) of the business man resumed? I do not know, nor do I wish to. I had two good beers for free, and that's what matters.
I left Josh and his friend after that, eager to get home and sleep. The next day was Saturday, always an intense, if not necessarily difficult, day. I stopped by Second Earth on my way back, as some of the Gang had gathered there for a Friday night cap. I dropped in, relayed my tale of weirdness, and we all left together to go our separate ways home.
I walked home via back streets and unlit alleys, quite safe and sound. I passed behind the shrine I'd found three weeks prior, and felt peace at the night quiet. I finally got home and quickly got to bed, desiring a nice recharge for the next day's activities.
Saturday the 7th of July
Crunch time. The big push. Saturdays are like a wall of lessons to climb. Not hard. Not impossible. Just challenging. Like long-distance walking; something you can do, but not something you can rush or just sleep through. Still, having done this for over 4 months now, I have become somewhat of a pro at this sort of thing, so it was no problem. The evening came as it always does, after a patient and even passage of time, and M-sensei and myself parted ways for our respective homes, secure in the knowledge that we would meet again later at G-Bros.
Indeed, we did. I grabbed a shower once I got home and relaxed with a rare moment of video gaming. I've been trying out Fallout, finding it quite rewarding and enjoyable. After a few hours of fun, I headed out to Bros. Most of the Gang were there, and we had a nice, loud evening drinking and talking. Claire and I talked some about the attempted bombing in Glasgow. She had found a few pages of jokes her countrymen had concocted about the incident, displaying a refreshing joviality about attempted terrorism I remember once existed in my own nation.
Our drinking was cut shorter than usual, for we desired to celebrate the 4th of July. Well, we Americans, of which there are 4 in the Gang, 3 present that evening. The others, a Scotswoman, two Englishmen, and a Canadian, wanted to set things on fire and watch them explode. Thankfully, Japan has no restrictions on fireworks, so we stocked up at the nearby conbini. I bought some tea and a small snack to help clear my head after drinking, and I'm glad I did. One should never play with fireworks while inebriated.
Our group made its way to Ose Beach, the local spot for ocean-based amusement in Hitachi. We found another small group of fireworks-users once we got to the ocean side, and we decided to set up shop nearby. The next two or so hours were filled with fire and explosions, but of a far more enjoyable form than we've been exposed to recently. We weren't without our mishaps, of course. I was nearly hit by a poorly-placed firework, and my fingers were covered in a dozen small singe marks from my lighter. There was a wicked breeze and it made lighting things difficult.
We all trudged back after we'd exhausted our supply of fireworks (hanabi in Japanese). Some went back to Bros to enjoy a few more drinks, while others, myself included, decided to call it a night. I returned home, walking with Matt (Clive's room-mate, and thus the closest English teachers to my own apartment) and getting home around 3. Blissful, restful sleep washed over me once I lay in my bed.
Sunday's update will be written tomorrow, as it is late, I am tired, and I just may be coming down with something. The glands in my neck have begun to swell and become sore, which is usually a precursor to illness on my behalf.
Oh, what a week it has been! I've been trying to find the time to post (and do many other things) but petty desires like sleep and food have robbed what little free time I have. NEVERTHELESS, I am working toward the eventual goal of daily blog posts here. Small steps, though; I'm thinking of moving up to twice or thrice weekly at first.
Anyway!
Tuesday the 3rd of July
Recovering from the weekend.
Wednesday the 4th of July
Happy Birthday, America! This is the first of *three* celebratory days I will have for this holiday! Don't forget, readers, I'm a day in the future compared to America.
Thursday the 5th of July
Happy Birthday, America! Again! On my Thursday, it was your Wednesday, so...y'know...another celebration. Mostly it was happy thoughts :)
Friday the 6th of July
A slow day. Mercifully, I only had 4 classes thanks to a cancellation at the last minute. My week tends to be heavy at the beginning and end, but Thursdays, and most Fridays, tend to be light, giving me a needed break to collect my energies.
Friday night proved to be a fascinating adventure, though. Josh, resident Guilty Gear aficionado whom with E.J. an I became acquainted while my brother was visiting, invited me to play said game at the B.B.A., given that that bar is equipped with a PS3. I obliged, but we ran into a bit of a snag. Plans had been made without my knowledge, and the evening was not to be spent playing fighting games.
I waited at B.B.A. for a few hours after work, all the while conscious of the time slipping by, time I could be sleeping. Finally, Josh showed up. He informed me that we would be going elsewhere, so I settled my tab and joined him outside. He introduced me to an acquaintance of his, a sushi restaurant owner who's name eludes me at the moment. Josh and his mysterious friend took our small party 'round a corner, just a block down the street from B.B.A. to a small door in the wall. Josh's friend, a heavy set man wearing a Boyscout Uniform shirt over a bright red t-shirt and a straw cowboy hat, ascended the stairs we found behind the door with a speed that his bulk hid well. Josh alighted quickly, motioning me to follow. I asked where we were going, and Josh replied quite simply "A Snack Bar."
A Snack Bar, for those of you who have never been to Japan, is a fascinating establishment. During crowded times, it is very much like a normal Japanese bar; one sits down, drinks and/or smokes heavily, and has a good time yelling what is essentially nonsense at other people. When it is not crowded, however, it transforms. Aside from the bartender, who is usually the owner, the staff is almost always composed entirely of young, attractive women. Their job is to serve the eponymous snacks and the beer. They also are there to talk to you. You don't pay for individual items at a Snack Bar, you pay for time. An hour at this place ran a person about 3,000 yen. A young lady of the place will sit with you as you eat and drink, engaging you in conversation and, generally, appear interested in your job, your life, or any other topic of conversation you care to come up with.
This evening, it was crowded, so no one-on-one treatment. The beer was nice, the snacks were...interesting...and the young attractive women were young and attractive. Josh and I relaxed and had some light geek talk, while every few minutes our mysterious benefactor would talk to one or both of us about his daughter that found him two years ago. From Africa.
After an hour or so of laughter, merriment, and rough translations of African locations, Josh's friend decided to hit the road. I stood to leave, and thus pay, but both Josh and his friend said that I didn't have to. The owner of the bar just smiled and waved as we left. I was shocked, but it was happening before my very eyes; I had gotten a free drink in Japan. Was it some secret agreement between Josh's friend and the Bar's owner? Old friends, or even rivals, sharing a quiet moment of peace before their never ending struggle for the snack-dollars (yen in this case) of the business man resumed? I do not know, nor do I wish to. I had two good beers for free, and that's what matters.
I left Josh and his friend after that, eager to get home and sleep. The next day was Saturday, always an intense, if not necessarily difficult, day. I stopped by Second Earth on my way back, as some of the Gang had gathered there for a Friday night cap. I dropped in, relayed my tale of weirdness, and we all left together to go our separate ways home.
I walked home via back streets and unlit alleys, quite safe and sound. I passed behind the shrine I'd found three weeks prior, and felt peace at the night quiet. I finally got home and quickly got to bed, desiring a nice recharge for the next day's activities.
Saturday the 7th of July
Crunch time. The big push. Saturdays are like a wall of lessons to climb. Not hard. Not impossible. Just challenging. Like long-distance walking; something you can do, but not something you can rush or just sleep through. Still, having done this for over 4 months now, I have become somewhat of a pro at this sort of thing, so it was no problem. The evening came as it always does, after a patient and even passage of time, and M-sensei and myself parted ways for our respective homes, secure in the knowledge that we would meet again later at G-Bros.
Indeed, we did. I grabbed a shower once I got home and relaxed with a rare moment of video gaming. I've been trying out Fallout, finding it quite rewarding and enjoyable. After a few hours of fun, I headed out to Bros. Most of the Gang were there, and we had a nice, loud evening drinking and talking. Claire and I talked some about the attempted bombing in Glasgow. She had found a few pages of jokes her countrymen had concocted about the incident, displaying a refreshing joviality about attempted terrorism I remember once existed in my own nation.
Our drinking was cut shorter than usual, for we desired to celebrate the 4th of July. Well, we Americans, of which there are 4 in the Gang, 3 present that evening. The others, a Scotswoman, two Englishmen, and a Canadian, wanted to set things on fire and watch them explode. Thankfully, Japan has no restrictions on fireworks, so we stocked up at the nearby conbini. I bought some tea and a small snack to help clear my head after drinking, and I'm glad I did. One should never play with fireworks while inebriated.
Our group made its way to Ose Beach, the local spot for ocean-based amusement in Hitachi. We found another small group of fireworks-users once we got to the ocean side, and we decided to set up shop nearby. The next two or so hours were filled with fire and explosions, but of a far more enjoyable form than we've been exposed to recently. We weren't without our mishaps, of course. I was nearly hit by a poorly-placed firework, and my fingers were covered in a dozen small singe marks from my lighter. There was a wicked breeze and it made lighting things difficult.
We all trudged back after we'd exhausted our supply of fireworks (hanabi in Japanese). Some went back to Bros to enjoy a few more drinks, while others, myself included, decided to call it a night. I returned home, walking with Matt (Clive's room-mate, and thus the closest English teachers to my own apartment) and getting home around 3. Blissful, restful sleep washed over me once I lay in my bed.
Sunday's update will be written tomorrow, as it is late, I am tired, and I just may be coming down with something. The glands in my neck have begun to swell and become sore, which is usually a precursor to illness on my behalf.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Son, let me tell you about the nerd...
J80
Bit of an up and down week. Work got a bit stressful (a few more classes than I'm used to) and I started to lose sleep. Plagued with odd thoughts, but those are all but evaporated now. I'm thinking of changing up the formatting here just a bit; doing a big, end-of-the-week post like this one will be, only because so little seems to happen during the work week proper.
Tuesday
Nothing of major importance. My cooking skills continue to improve.
Wednesday
Tried on a pair of slacks I had bought in America. They were too tight for me when I came here. Now they are too loose. Ditto their companion suit jacket. Liberal application of belt has repaired the problem of the pants, but the jacket is almost comically too big for me. Awesome. In the evening I found, with the help of Will, a fraternity brother, one of my high school teachers. His name is Robert Rutledge, and he was my Latin teacher. He was one of the biggest inspirations for my life, and I've always wanted to get back in touch with him after I left high school. He's an assistant civil defense attorney in Rome, G.A. now, and I'm planning on sending him a snailmail letter or two.
Thursday
Very tired. Extra classes yesterday and today. Having to come in early to prepare for everything. Not getting much sleep. Luckily, I finished preparing for the next two days today.
Friday
Somewhat less intense than the last few days, but not by much. Got word from my dad that his mom, my Grandmother, just got back from the hospital. She's okay, but drained from the experience. She wanted to know if I was interested in having excerpts from this blog printed in a local newspaper. Very interested in this prospect. Hope to hear from people about it soon.
Saturday
The rush day. Crush day. Survived, as always. Stayed out super-late with the Gaijin Gang here. Went to G-Bros late at night, went to Big Echo Karaoke until about 3 AM, and watched the sun rise at the local Gusto Burger. Think like a Denny's, but no pancakes. The sun comes up super-early here (Japan does not have daylight saving's time). The sun rose at, I swear to God, 4 AM here. I was utterly exhausted, so I crashed for a few hours.
Sunday
After waking up from a very deep sleep, I put on some laundry (standard weekend proceedings around here) and relaxed. Played a little Deus Ex, the first video game I've touched in nearly 3 weeks. Headed out after noon to do some exploring, wound up at the nearby shrine. I got a lot of great pictures, I'll put some up tomorrow morning. After that, I decided to swing by Toy's Dream and see if I could get directions to a Recycle Shop.
I'd love to write about Toy's Dream here, but trust me when I say I'll get to it in my catchup entries. I promise!
Naoki-san, owner of Toy's Dream, is a terribly nice guy. Super nice. When I first found Toy's Dream, he gave me lots of free stuff. I took E.J. there when he was here, where they gave us even more stuff. This time he gave me some snacks...and a ride. I wanted to find a Recycle shop, and he thought for a few minutes, closed the shop, told me to lock up my bike, and drove me to Wonder Goo. Wonder Goo is what you get when you cut a Media Play and a Barnes and Noble in half and slap them together. It has a huge used media section, which delighted me to no end. In the end, I didn't buy anything, just 'cause there was so much to choose from. He drove me back to Toy's Dream and I rode back home.
Saturday night, the Gang and I had mentioned plans about going to the local arcade for, in part, some Dance Dance Revolution. After a little delay, during which I made some delicious stir fry, the arcade plan was enacted, and I met up with most of the Gang at JOYCOM. JOYCOM is filled with three things: fighting games, mah-jong games, and rhythm games. They have a DDR SuperNOVA (the latest, that I know of, arcade version of the game) which is just awesome. Claire, one of the newer teachers, from Scotland, wanted to try DDR out, so we played a few games.
Oy. I have definitely gotten more in shape since I've been here, but DDR is still the best workout I can think of. By the end of two games I was sweating like a pig, but I was still in the dance. Claire and I played a total of about 5 or 6 games, only got through maybe 4. I picked a few tough ones and we failed once or twice. Still, a great time was had by all! Those who didn't dance played fighting games for a while.
Monday
Today! Not much happened today. Had Brush Club and the Japanese Lesson, a quick stop by the grocery store, and a brief stay at G-Bros to end the weekend. I've gotten a few people interested in playing in a Dungeons & Dragons game, and I spent a good 30 minutes going over the basic rules with K. Now, I'm at home, sipping green tea and winding down the weekend.
In all, it's been an okay week. A little stressful, but I'm doing good now.
Update for the old journal tomorrow morning.
Bit of an up and down week. Work got a bit stressful (a few more classes than I'm used to) and I started to lose sleep. Plagued with odd thoughts, but those are all but evaporated now. I'm thinking of changing up the formatting here just a bit; doing a big, end-of-the-week post like this one will be, only because so little seems to happen during the work week proper.
Tuesday
Nothing of major importance. My cooking skills continue to improve.
Wednesday
Tried on a pair of slacks I had bought in America. They were too tight for me when I came here. Now they are too loose. Ditto their companion suit jacket. Liberal application of belt has repaired the problem of the pants, but the jacket is almost comically too big for me. Awesome. In the evening I found, with the help of Will, a fraternity brother, one of my high school teachers. His name is Robert Rutledge, and he was my Latin teacher. He was one of the biggest inspirations for my life, and I've always wanted to get back in touch with him after I left high school. He's an assistant civil defense attorney in Rome, G.A. now, and I'm planning on sending him a snailmail letter or two.
Thursday
Very tired. Extra classes yesterday and today. Having to come in early to prepare for everything. Not getting much sleep. Luckily, I finished preparing for the next two days today.
Friday
Somewhat less intense than the last few days, but not by much. Got word from my dad that his mom, my Grandmother, just got back from the hospital. She's okay, but drained from the experience. She wanted to know if I was interested in having excerpts from this blog printed in a local newspaper. Very interested in this prospect. Hope to hear from people about it soon.
Saturday
The rush day. Crush day. Survived, as always. Stayed out super-late with the Gaijin Gang here. Went to G-Bros late at night, went to Big Echo Karaoke until about 3 AM, and watched the sun rise at the local Gusto Burger. Think like a Denny's, but no pancakes. The sun comes up super-early here (Japan does not have daylight saving's time). The sun rose at, I swear to God, 4 AM here. I was utterly exhausted, so I crashed for a few hours.
Sunday
After waking up from a very deep sleep, I put on some laundry (standard weekend proceedings around here) and relaxed. Played a little Deus Ex, the first video game I've touched in nearly 3 weeks. Headed out after noon to do some exploring, wound up at the nearby shrine. I got a lot of great pictures, I'll put some up tomorrow morning. After that, I decided to swing by Toy's Dream and see if I could get directions to a Recycle Shop.
I'd love to write about Toy's Dream here, but trust me when I say I'll get to it in my catchup entries. I promise!
Naoki-san, owner of Toy's Dream, is a terribly nice guy. Super nice. When I first found Toy's Dream, he gave me lots of free stuff. I took E.J. there when he was here, where they gave us even more stuff. This time he gave me some snacks...and a ride. I wanted to find a Recycle shop, and he thought for a few minutes, closed the shop, told me to lock up my bike, and drove me to Wonder Goo. Wonder Goo is what you get when you cut a Media Play and a Barnes and Noble in half and slap them together. It has a huge used media section, which delighted me to no end. In the end, I didn't buy anything, just 'cause there was so much to choose from. He drove me back to Toy's Dream and I rode back home.
Saturday night, the Gang and I had mentioned plans about going to the local arcade for, in part, some Dance Dance Revolution. After a little delay, during which I made some delicious stir fry, the arcade plan was enacted, and I met up with most of the Gang at JOYCOM. JOYCOM is filled with three things: fighting games, mah-jong games, and rhythm games. They have a DDR SuperNOVA (the latest, that I know of, arcade version of the game) which is just awesome. Claire, one of the newer teachers, from Scotland, wanted to try DDR out, so we played a few games.
Oy. I have definitely gotten more in shape since I've been here, but DDR is still the best workout I can think of. By the end of two games I was sweating like a pig, but I was still in the dance. Claire and I played a total of about 5 or 6 games, only got through maybe 4. I picked a few tough ones and we failed once or twice. Still, a great time was had by all! Those who didn't dance played fighting games for a while.
Monday
Today! Not much happened today. Had Brush Club and the Japanese Lesson, a quick stop by the grocery store, and a brief stay at G-Bros to end the weekend. I've gotten a few people interested in playing in a Dungeons & Dragons game, and I spent a good 30 minutes going over the basic rules with K. Now, I'm at home, sipping green tea and winding down the weekend.
In all, it's been an okay week. A little stressful, but I'm doing good now.
Update for the old journal tomorrow morning.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Part 2: The Sequel. II
J78 Monday, June 11th 2007
Okay, I really need to do this more often.
To continue from my last post about last Sunday (a week ago):
I saw a small torii, shinto gate, at the top of a tiny mountain. More like a huge hill with steep sides. There was a switchback carved into the rock face, and coated with concrete in a cool warped grid pattern. These sorts of earthworks are everywhere here in Japan, but I'd never seen one so up close.
I parked and locked up my bike at the foot of the mini mountain and started my ascent. I found the torii lead to a pair of small shrines on a tiny plateau. I left some offerings at both and looked out across the valley. Nestled between the spurs of the mountains were the little neighborhood I had biked through. I could see the martial arts gym and the massive factories behind it, their machines singing deep in the baritone registry of industrial machinery.
I noticed a path leading up the mountain, beyond the plateau I was on. I decided to see where it went. Up I walked, though somewhat dense underbrush. Tall grass and shrubs, bowing trees, and everywhere young bamboo grew. The path was overgrown, but still visible, and I had no trouble following my way up the mountain. After about 10 minutes of navigating the undergrowth, I found myself at a curious sight. Exiting the lush, green forest, I discovered that the mountain continued in an expanse of fine black sand. Large pipes snaked their way through the air before me, a low and constant rasp speaking of their rushing contents. The occasional hiss of loosed gas would crescendo from the various junctions and valves that the pipes twisted through.
I had found my way into a quarry. I'd seen it before, during Golden Week, from the valley below. I ducked beneath the piping, eager to see what else was there, when I heard voices. Guards? Miners? I found a paved road and crept up it, quick and quiet. To my shock, just around a wide bend, I found a baseball field. Here, halfway up the mountains, wedged between a highway an a rock quarry, was a baseball field. On it, a team was practicing. I nodded a greeting to those who saw me, and they smiled back. I rested in the shade, the first chance to do so after visiting the dojo nearly an hour previous. I watched them practice, and I have to say they were good.
Their uniforms were blue and white. One team, but the players alternated home and away colors, so as to have two virtual teams with which to practice. They had a pitcher, but he didn't throw the ball. Instead, he mimed the action, and right next to him another player would push a ball into a batting machine, hurling a perfect pitch to the batter. It was funny to watch the pitcher put his all into a phantom throw, but I guess it was good practice for his gross body movements.
I watched for the better part of an hour, resting and wishing I had a drink. The teams hit a lot of deep shots. Their teamwork was good, but like all things in the sports world they had room to improve. After my rest I stood up again to explore the quarry.
It was like being on another planet. I walked down a gentle hill of equipment-packed black sand into the main pit. All around me were towering hills of the stuff. Refuse littered the ground, but all finely pulverized. Bottles, spare bits of equipment, even printed circuit boards were present, but all shattered by some unknown force and distributed across a large area. Huge tracks of heavy equipment flanked me as I descended, but not a soul was present. Over this alien landscape was another factory, probably a refinery or processing plant. No one noticed my presence, though, or if they did they didn't bother me. I was quite alone; not even the shouts of the ball game reached me, despite the relative proximity of the playing field.
I noticed lots of animal tracks. Small ones and big ones. Something told me it was probably foxes and wolves. I found them pretty, and a little reassuring. I hadn't seen any wild animals aside from birds, and I had begun to wonder if they had been driven off due to the heavy industry that peppers Japan's landscape. These tracks were fresh, though, no more than two weeks old, if that. As an amusing aside, when I told this part to some of my friends here, a few of those gathered got a little freaked out. They said that had they have seen wolf tracks, they would have left immediately. Just kind of funny, 'cause I never felt any discomfort of unease.
The sand soon gave way to hard, dry dirt, which in turn gave way to the green of the mountain. I decided to turn around, figuring it was probably about time to head back. The heat wasn't bad, but it was constant, and without a drink I knew I would get dehydrated if I stayed out much longer. I was already beginning to feel the fatigue set in from my day's exertions. I ascended the long sand ramp, kicking up a smoky black dust with every step. I took a short detour to the other side of the quarry, having seen a few interesting objects on my initial descent. I found an old, abandoned civilian bus. The keys were still in it, but no signs of habitation were present. A bucket of brown water was filled with cigarette butts, and there was a baseball on the console. The doors were unlocked, too. I had a brief temptation to have a joyride, but I then realized the size of the book they'd throw at me, and thought better of it.
The side of the quarry I found myself on was very flat, aside from the land that had been chewed up by equipment below me. I was on top of a cliff of black sand. More prints, foxes on this side I think, and even less vegetation. I felt exhaustion's inexorable tug again, somewhat more urgently. I trudged back to the lip of the black sand mountain and began a (gravity assisted) descent down the mountain. I passed the shrines, and left another offering at both of them in thanks for a safe trip up and down their mountain path. It was another quick minute, and I was back at my bike at the foot of the mountain. Over 2 hours had passed.
I made my way back along a familiar road. Atop another ridge I saw something that reminded me of something E.J. had said. He talked about exploring on his own, finding a huge graveyard on the side of a hill and a large temple complex that accompanied it. I pulled my bike up a steep flight of stairs (they have ramps on either side for bikes to be pulled, luckily) and found myself face to face with the temple E.J. had found almost a month ago.
A large temple greeted me, friendly and old, it's once-black roof tiles stained a sky blue after years of rain and exposure. My bike left at the foot of a small set of stairs, I trudged up to the temple, in awe at the beauty that surrounded me but still exhausted. I left an offering, said a prayer, and continued to look around. This complex was very active, as temples in Japan go. Most temples and shrines that I've been to don't have active caretakers. Bigger ones can, sometimes, but most of them are so small or remote that the few monks and priests that exist can't stay at them all the time. Most are left to their own devices. Popular or easily accessed ones are cleaned semi-annually by roaming caretakers. But this one, thanks to its massive, popular graveyard and close proximity to Hitachi, was staffed by no less than 2 priests that I saw, with evidence to suggest more.
As I wandered one said hi. He spoke a little English, and we had a short conversation. He was a young man, maybe a few years older than my 24. He was really friendly, with a big smile that came out often. He wanted to know the standard battery of questions: where was I from, what did I do for a living, how old I was. When I told him I was a teacher here in Hitachi I swear his ears perked up. It's somewhat rare to see a foreigner living in an area as rural as Hitachi, and he was positively delighted.
He left me to attend his duties, and I strolled around the graveyard for a little while. Still, my strength was fading fast, and I knew I needed to get back home. So, with a parting bow to the temple, I hopped on my bike and raced home. I took a detour, hoping to find a Recycle shop nearby. Recycle shops are used goods stores that sell a variety of previously-owned merchandise, much like a thrift store, but things tend to be in better condition. Since space is such a premium, people in Japan tend to resell their old media, books, comics, music, DVDs, instead of boxing it up or throwing it away. It nets them some cash, clears up space at home, and (yay for me!) lets poor or cheap people buy stuff at low prices.
Alas, after half an hour of going up and down massive foothills along side a busy highway, I decided to call it a day. Finally, after hours of walking and hiking and taking pictures I headed home. Down massive hills. On a bike. Cue the Dukes of Hazzard music. I was doing 40 mph, easy, dodging pedestrians (of which there were few) and the obstacle course that is the sidewalk as I streaked downhill and back toward home.
When I finally got back, in one piece, I cooked dinner and collapsed in my office chair, soaking up the internet, before falling into a blissful slumber.
Okay, I really need to do this more often.
To continue from my last post about last Sunday (a week ago):
I saw a small torii, shinto gate, at the top of a tiny mountain. More like a huge hill with steep sides. There was a switchback carved into the rock face, and coated with concrete in a cool warped grid pattern. These sorts of earthworks are everywhere here in Japan, but I'd never seen one so up close.
I parked and locked up my bike at the foot of the mini mountain and started my ascent. I found the torii lead to a pair of small shrines on a tiny plateau. I left some offerings at both and looked out across the valley. Nestled between the spurs of the mountains were the little neighborhood I had biked through. I could see the martial arts gym and the massive factories behind it, their machines singing deep in the baritone registry of industrial machinery.
I noticed a path leading up the mountain, beyond the plateau I was on. I decided to see where it went. Up I walked, though somewhat dense underbrush. Tall grass and shrubs, bowing trees, and everywhere young bamboo grew. The path was overgrown, but still visible, and I had no trouble following my way up the mountain. After about 10 minutes of navigating the undergrowth, I found myself at a curious sight. Exiting the lush, green forest, I discovered that the mountain continued in an expanse of fine black sand. Large pipes snaked their way through the air before me, a low and constant rasp speaking of their rushing contents. The occasional hiss of loosed gas would crescendo from the various junctions and valves that the pipes twisted through.
I had found my way into a quarry. I'd seen it before, during Golden Week, from the valley below. I ducked beneath the piping, eager to see what else was there, when I heard voices. Guards? Miners? I found a paved road and crept up it, quick and quiet. To my shock, just around a wide bend, I found a baseball field. Here, halfway up the mountains, wedged between a highway an a rock quarry, was a baseball field. On it, a team was practicing. I nodded a greeting to those who saw me, and they smiled back. I rested in the shade, the first chance to do so after visiting the dojo nearly an hour previous. I watched them practice, and I have to say they were good.
Their uniforms were blue and white. One team, but the players alternated home and away colors, so as to have two virtual teams with which to practice. They had a pitcher, but he didn't throw the ball. Instead, he mimed the action, and right next to him another player would push a ball into a batting machine, hurling a perfect pitch to the batter. It was funny to watch the pitcher put his all into a phantom throw, but I guess it was good practice for his gross body movements.
I watched for the better part of an hour, resting and wishing I had a drink. The teams hit a lot of deep shots. Their teamwork was good, but like all things in the sports world they had room to improve. After my rest I stood up again to explore the quarry.
It was like being on another planet. I walked down a gentle hill of equipment-packed black sand into the main pit. All around me were towering hills of the stuff. Refuse littered the ground, but all finely pulverized. Bottles, spare bits of equipment, even printed circuit boards were present, but all shattered by some unknown force and distributed across a large area. Huge tracks of heavy equipment flanked me as I descended, but not a soul was present. Over this alien landscape was another factory, probably a refinery or processing plant. No one noticed my presence, though, or if they did they didn't bother me. I was quite alone; not even the shouts of the ball game reached me, despite the relative proximity of the playing field.
I noticed lots of animal tracks. Small ones and big ones. Something told me it was probably foxes and wolves. I found them pretty, and a little reassuring. I hadn't seen any wild animals aside from birds, and I had begun to wonder if they had been driven off due to the heavy industry that peppers Japan's landscape. These tracks were fresh, though, no more than two weeks old, if that. As an amusing aside, when I told this part to some of my friends here, a few of those gathered got a little freaked out. They said that had they have seen wolf tracks, they would have left immediately. Just kind of funny, 'cause I never felt any discomfort of unease.
The sand soon gave way to hard, dry dirt, which in turn gave way to the green of the mountain. I decided to turn around, figuring it was probably about time to head back. The heat wasn't bad, but it was constant, and without a drink I knew I would get dehydrated if I stayed out much longer. I was already beginning to feel the fatigue set in from my day's exertions. I ascended the long sand ramp, kicking up a smoky black dust with every step. I took a short detour to the other side of the quarry, having seen a few interesting objects on my initial descent. I found an old, abandoned civilian bus. The keys were still in it, but no signs of habitation were present. A bucket of brown water was filled with cigarette butts, and there was a baseball on the console. The doors were unlocked, too. I had a brief temptation to have a joyride, but I then realized the size of the book they'd throw at me, and thought better of it.
The side of the quarry I found myself on was very flat, aside from the land that had been chewed up by equipment below me. I was on top of a cliff of black sand. More prints, foxes on this side I think, and even less vegetation. I felt exhaustion's inexorable tug again, somewhat more urgently. I trudged back to the lip of the black sand mountain and began a (gravity assisted) descent down the mountain. I passed the shrines, and left another offering at both of them in thanks for a safe trip up and down their mountain path. It was another quick minute, and I was back at my bike at the foot of the mountain. Over 2 hours had passed.
I made my way back along a familiar road. Atop another ridge I saw something that reminded me of something E.J. had said. He talked about exploring on his own, finding a huge graveyard on the side of a hill and a large temple complex that accompanied it. I pulled my bike up a steep flight of stairs (they have ramps on either side for bikes to be pulled, luckily) and found myself face to face with the temple E.J. had found almost a month ago.
A large temple greeted me, friendly and old, it's once-black roof tiles stained a sky blue after years of rain and exposure. My bike left at the foot of a small set of stairs, I trudged up to the temple, in awe at the beauty that surrounded me but still exhausted. I left an offering, said a prayer, and continued to look around. This complex was very active, as temples in Japan go. Most temples and shrines that I've been to don't have active caretakers. Bigger ones can, sometimes, but most of them are so small or remote that the few monks and priests that exist can't stay at them all the time. Most are left to their own devices. Popular or easily accessed ones are cleaned semi-annually by roaming caretakers. But this one, thanks to its massive, popular graveyard and close proximity to Hitachi, was staffed by no less than 2 priests that I saw, with evidence to suggest more.
As I wandered one said hi. He spoke a little English, and we had a short conversation. He was a young man, maybe a few years older than my 24. He was really friendly, with a big smile that came out often. He wanted to know the standard battery of questions: where was I from, what did I do for a living, how old I was. When I told him I was a teacher here in Hitachi I swear his ears perked up. It's somewhat rare to see a foreigner living in an area as rural as Hitachi, and he was positively delighted.
He left me to attend his duties, and I strolled around the graveyard for a little while. Still, my strength was fading fast, and I knew I needed to get back home. So, with a parting bow to the temple, I hopped on my bike and raced home. I took a detour, hoping to find a Recycle shop nearby. Recycle shops are used goods stores that sell a variety of previously-owned merchandise, much like a thrift store, but things tend to be in better condition. Since space is such a premium, people in Japan tend to resell their old media, books, comics, music, DVDs, instead of boxing it up or throwing it away. It nets them some cash, clears up space at home, and (yay for me!) lets poor or cheap people buy stuff at low prices.
Alas, after half an hour of going up and down massive foothills along side a busy highway, I decided to call it a day. Finally, after hours of walking and hiking and taking pictures I headed home. Down massive hills. On a bike. Cue the Dukes of Hazzard music. I was doing 40 mph, easy, dodging pedestrians (of which there were few) and the obstacle course that is the sidewalk as I streaked downhill and back toward home.
When I finally got back, in one piece, I cooked dinner and collapsed in my office chair, soaking up the internet, before falling into a blissful slumber.
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