J147 Sunday September 16th
One thing I love about my work schedule is that it has finally broken my annoying habit of waking up early...mostly. See, used to, I could never sleep past 9AM. No matter what. I could have stayed up 'till 2AM, 3, 4, even 5, and I'd be up, exhausted and cranky, at 9. But enough super-late nights finally began to crack whatever mystical soporific barrier that exists within me, and now I can actually sleep in. Most of the time.
I woke up around 11:45AM. I checked movie times using the Internets, and found one that suited both of our needs. I woke up with the 'net, seeing that Alan Greenspan had dropped the bomb about Iraq, how it truly was a conflict fueled (heh) by want of oil. I'm sure it'll be spun away from the more damning implications, if you can call directly assaulting years of lies with glaring truth an implication, but for the few days it takes to mobilize the PR machine, it will be a sweet victory. I'm not conservative, sorry. Welcome to the blog.
I cleaned up and headed out to Mito. I almost missed the train, but a quick sprint down the platform and a majestic leap through the doors found me safely aboard the train, breakfast in hand. The day was quite sunny and clear, and I enjoyed my rice balls and tea whilst watching the Japanese countryside go by. I love watching the world out the windows of a moving vehicle, and it's something I rarely got to do once I started driving. Japan has given me the chance to rekindle my love of travel. Observing travel, I guess.
I got to Mito with plenty of time to spare. I had been messaging Brandon back and forth during my train trip; he wasn't quite clear on the movie times, but he got to the train no problem. I needed to find an ATM, being cash-less at the time (my train ticket was paid with my Suica card), so I decided to walk around. Mito station is flanked on either side by massive pedestrian platforms, huge elevated slabs of concrete that allow one to walk from the station to nearby points of interests, hotels, department stores, the movie theater, and more, without having to worry about traffic. It's really an impressive bit of engineering, and it gives a great view of the city. The first department store I found didn't have an ATM that I could find, so I turned around and tried to find someone I could get directions from.
On the way back toward the station I recognized one of the statues decorating the walk. It was a life-sized bronze of three men, an old man flanked by two younger men. The man on the older man's right is holding his hand up, as if to halt or rebuke someone. It was a statue of Tokugawa Mitsukuni. He was a daimyo, a local lord in service to the shogun, who was in charge of the Mito domain. During his life, he was a prolific traveler. A TV show, beginning in 1969 and continuing to today (that's 37 seasons for you playing our home game) called Mito Komon has dramatized the tales and legends of his travels.
He's sort of a state-empowered Robin Hood...maybe like Walker: Texas Ranger. He goes around with two samurai bodyguards in plainclothes, looking for corruption, evil, and general nastiness wherever he goes. When he finds it, he and his associates work to correct the wrongs wrought by the baddies. The end of every episode usually involves the samurai putting on their best "I'm a freaking samurai, buddy" faces and loudly exclaiming: "Don't you know who this is?! Here before you is Lord Mitsukuni of Mito, uncle of the Shogun!"
Well, anyway, this statue is of the three main characters, Mitsukuni and his two companions. I started recognizing all the other Mito Komon imagery around Mito. Little chibi versions of the old guy smiling at me from glossy fliers or displays. It was cool.
I walked to the other side of the station and spied a hotel. I entered and was delighted to find the hotel staff spoke English. They produced a map which directed me back the way I came, claiming an ATM existed in the department store I first entered. On my way back I met up with Brandon and we walked together. We couldn't find the ATM on our first pass through, so Brandon said he knew where an ATM was. Trouble was, that was a good 5 minute walk away, and the movie was starting in about 10. I'm not one for close calls, so I suggested we look one more time. This time we descended into the lowest level of the department store, and we finally found the ATM, encased in a small glass chamber near a McDonalds. I withdrew funds while Brandon acquired lunch at the Golden Arches, and we speed-walked back to the movie theater, on the hotel side of the platform.
We made it just in time. Up the stairs to the platform, back through the station, across the soccer field-sized pedestrian walk, into the theater. We bought tickets and hurried up the escalator to our theater. We got there while there were still trailers playing. We rule.
Once again, the movie was delicious. I caught a few more elements this time, which I will be happy to share in private. I dislike spoilers, so I will not subject my friends to them, lest they request it specifically.
After the movie we exited the theater. The sun was well into its decline. The length of the day was shifting ever shorter, and its effects were beginning to be noticeable. Brandon was quite content after watching the movie, made so by its sheer awesomeness. We went into another department store to do some window shopping. I was looking for a new bag; my backpack was quite functional, but far from fashionable, and I missed my satchels.
We saw many products. Jewelry, and tons of it. Watches. Racks upon racks of clothes. I felt a little plain in my shorts and t-shirt; Japan has made me somewhat fashion conscious. Though I wouldn't know where to begin if I wanted to actually become stylish. Brandon had to leave for a dinner engagement after a while, and I stayed on to shop a little more. I hopped back on the train just as the sun was truly setting. I enjoyed the twilight as my train sped me home, the theme of the Evangelion movie, "Beautiful World" still echoing in my head.
Once I got back to Hitachi I put some of the last few minutes of daylight to use. I stopped by Sakura City to check out the crafts store. I browsed the aisles, looking for something to inspire me. I found some wooden beads, and some stone ones too. I purchased a handful of both and set out for home. Sifting through my crafting supplies, shipped as birthday gifts from my Dad and EJ, I set about stringing my newly-acquired beads through a thin length of chain. Alas, what I'd purchased wasn't enough to complete a full necklace, but the 70% that I did have looked awesome. I slept well, despite the relative shortness of the day.
J148 Monday September 17th
Most of the day was spent preparing for my special lessons for the coming week. Researching, reading, writing, and editing. I remember, now, why college was a challenge; I get horrible headaches when I work at the computer on one task for a long time.
My topics were Art History, created with the help of EJ and his prodigious knowledge of the subject. I also did a Cultural Exchange class, focusing on the media that America and Japan have swapped. Mostly anime and manga, but movies were there, too.
To ease the pounding in my head I read some of my books. I finished Kafka on the Shore, a novel by Haruki Murakami, a postmodern Japanese author I've enjoyed before. His novel Hardboiled Wonderland and the End of the World was the inspiration for Haibane Renmei, an anime series I really liked. I read the book a few years ago and was impressed. On my return home from Fuji I had purchased Kafka, and a variety of other books, and had been reading them in series ever since. Expect a review forthcoming to the Lovely Lisa and J.D.'s blog, 7FootShelves.
By the end of the day I'd gotten maybe 80% of both works done by the time I needed to sleep. A little FF VII rounded out the day.
J149 Tuesday September 18th
I was up early and managed to finish everything with a little time to spare. I have a business meeting tomorrow, the 19th, in Tokyo, and I still have some homework to do for that, but that can be done today and tonight. Maybe even tomorrow on the train. My first class was a bit rough; I don't think my students were expecting so much stuff. It's hard to make up classes on one's own. Most of my classes are taught with pre-made materials, out of books written by my company, so I don't have to do much prep time. It still takes effort to teach a coherent lesson. In that respect it's very much like improv theater. My meeting in Shinjuku is tomorrow.
J150 Wednesday September 19th
Last time I did this, I was late for my train. Not this time! I was up early, early. Showered, shaved, and dressed to the nines. I aimed to get to Shinjuku as early as I could. My tickets had been provided by the company, thankfully, and I caught the Tokyo-bound Super Hitachi early in the morning.
The Super Hitachi is really nice. It's a super-express train, meaning it stops only about 7 times between Hitachi and Ueno, the end point for the Joban line on which Hitachi sits. The end result is a breathtaking 1.5 hour trip, compared to the 3~4 hour local train time, not counting delays.
I had grabbed a quick breakfast on my way down, but it didn't hold for long. I remembered that there would be no meal break during the meeting, as we had a lot to do and little time to do it. When I pulled in to Ueno station I hopped the Yamanote line to Shinjuku. I did an awesome running leap into the train, as its "I'm leaving right now" alarm started going off while I was on the steps down to the platform. Luckily, my continuing exercise has restored some of the speed and grace of my youth, and I boarded the train without trouble. My local Yamanote-line train pulled in to Shinjuku station at around 11AM, at which point I realized I'd made a mistake. I didn't know how to get to my company's headquarters. I knew they were located in a building nearby, a short walk to be honest, but without knowing the direction to go or the name of the building, I was trapped. The meeting started at noon.
I tried to call everyone I could. I literally called everyone in my cell phone's onboard phone book. No one answered. I cursed my patchy contact information reserves and resolved to get everyone's everything when this was all finished. I resolved to call my office, knowing that it opened at 11:30AM. I watched as the seconds ticked by, feeling the occasional bead of cold sweat work its way down my back. Finally, after what felt like hundreds of calls, my manager picked up at the office. She and I conversed quickly, and I managed to write down a bevy of information on the HQ building. Thanking her profusely, I hung up on my manager and sought a cab.
Now, this building is relatively new. It's terribly expensive and very fancy. I find a cab without problems, but I have found the only cab driver in all of Shinjuku that doesn't know where the building is. Giant freaking building. Where they house the local government in addition to my company's offices. I'm not an expert in the road layout of Washington D.C. (well, I do know a few things, but that's because I'm a conspiracy nut) but I know what the freaking White House looks like. And where it is. And its name.
Anyway, another quick call to my manager netted the phone number, which I then gave to the driver. He made a surprisingly long call to the office, but finally managed to get his bearings and figure out how to get us there. Once at the building I thanked and paid him for his services, and was in. I had, maybe 5 minutes to spare.
The meeting was pleasant enough, though its exact details I can't go into right now. I met some old friends and made some new ones. Koji, an ex-sushi chef who lived in America for a dozen years, sat next to me, and we became fast friends. Tiffany, a teacher I'd met during my follow-up training, was there too, much to our mutual delight. I met many other teachers and managers during the exercises we performed. One woman, Alison her name, struck me as particularly visually impressive; she had golden eyes. Not green eyes. Not yellow eyes. Her eyes were the color of burnished, well-lit gold. No contacts, either, I checked. Awesome.
After the meeting was finished, Koji and a few other employees were going to grab dinner at an Indian place nearby. I'd gone to the place before and fell in love with it immediately. They served delicious, hot curry and all-you-could-eat nan. Nan is a style of Indian bread, and would bring about world peace, were more people to share it. Needless to say, I heartily accepted Koji's invitation to dinner.
Before I left I met Sharon and Shannon, two of the staff that taught me when I first came to Japan. Thinking back now on those times...it feels like much more than 7 months. I feel so different than I did then. The weather has gotten cool again, though it's nowhere near Japan in the winter time. I was different then, in many respects. Both Sharon and Shannon commented that they didn't recognize me at first glance, which I was somewhat surprised at. It's strange to think the way I look has changed so much, but even looking back at my old pictures I see that I have.
Anyway. Koji and I enjoyed two large pieces of nan apiece, along with dishes of hot curry and cool yogurt. He and I were heading toward the same station, Ueno, so we became travel buddies for the evening. We walked back to the station after dinner and hopped the Yamanote back to Ueno, and there we parted ways. My trip back home was enjoyable, happening in the ever-earlier Japanese twilight that I love so dearly. I wanted to get something to drink, but the train's only vending machine was out of order. Boo.
I got back with about 30 minutes to spare. I had one class to teach that day, you see, at 8PM. It was short but sweet, and in the end all was well. I headed home after work and relaxed after the day's trials. I really like taking business trips; the novelty hasn't rubbed off yet. The rush of trains, the joy of watching the world slide by. The break from normal routine.
J151 Thursday September 20th
I was up at my usual time in the morning. The night before I'd happened upon the writings of one Cory Doctorow. I'd been clued in to BoingBoing by my coworker, which is one of Mr. Doctorow's many online repositories of his writings. What I'd found the night before, though, was a collection of his books. Doctorow is a big believer in...well, many things, but one of them is the Creative Commons Licensing system, wherein a person may give numerous and varied rights of reproduction, and in some case recreation, to their intellectual property provided credit is correctly and noticeably due. In this case, Doctorow has decided to release most, if not all, of his books for free on the Internet, as well as in dead tree copies one can buy at their local book store.
This morning I read a short story he had written about a world maybe a year or two into the future. A world in which Google had become evil. Using technology available today, in no way extrapolating what Google does to harvest data or how it is utilized, Doctorow painted a vivid and striking future of totalitarian power, thanks in part to a fictional joint effort between the Department of Homeland Security and Google. The short story is called Scroogled, and I highly recommend reading it.
Today was a relatively light load, only 4 classes. During my break I rode my bike to Sakura City and purchased more stone beads, so as to complete the necklace I'd begun making two nights prior. After work I headed home and cooked up a delicious veggie-packed meal.
I ate my hot meal (a simple pleasure, that) over my laptop, reading by its LCD glow Cory Doctorow's first novel, Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom. I'll be reviewing it soon, so stay tuned for the full text. In a nutshell, it's a look into a future society, maybe a hundred years into the future. The new society Doctorow describes is fascinating, having done away with "money" in the classic aspect, and instead relying on "Wuffie", a form of currency based on respect. A lengthy novella, but easily finished in an evening's dedicated reading time.
J152 Friday September 21st
Not much to report. One of my special lessons involved watching a movie, which one of the school's staff attended, in addition to my regular student. It was fun teaching her. It was interesting to watch how she learned and what she still had trouble with, despite her amazing English skills. They both did fine in the end.
In other exciting news, they're remodeling the section of the building next to the school. We are situated in a small suite of offices built atop Hitachi's train station, but we don't operate out of the entire top floor. Odd sounds and thumps come at all times from the walls and floor, but they've soon become a sort of white noise. It'll be a busy day tomorrow...oy.
J153 Saturday September 22nd
A full load today, save one private lesson. An extra hour's break, a respite from the ravages of an all-day teaching session. Despite my exercise, my back still kills me if I don't sit down every few hours. Teaching for 3 and 4 hour blocks of time does not make me feel good.
After work I had a wonderful surprise; new episodes of Avatar: The Last Airbender were available online! As a long-time fan of this series, the third season's premiere was a delight to behold. I managed to get a low-quality torrent of it downloaded quickly, enjoying my dinner while I watched.
I headed out to G-Bros late, around 11PM, but was surprised to find only K there. Apparently, everyone else had either other plans, was still working, or was asleep. I had my customary beer, but neither K nor I were going to stick around. I had to finalize my plans for the D&D game to be held on Monday, and K had to put in his nightly call to Sylvia.
On our way back home we bumped into the Amity girls, Erin, Jo Ann, and Candice. Jo Ann's high school friend Will was visiting, and the girls were taking him out to G-Bros. We chatted for a while. Will works for the USAF, on an air base somewhere south of Tokyo. I can't remember the name. Seems like a cool guy, though. He had a good sense of humor. I didn't stay long, though, and both K and I peddled off into the night for our respective homes.
The next day was Sunday, which was to be a day of much slack, and of much preparation.
Showing posts with label trains. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trains. Show all posts
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
It's a beautiful daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay
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.
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.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
For crying out loud...
J114 Tuesday August 14th 2007
Right. Continuing recap.
My first day back in Hitachi after my 4-day adventure felt...surreal. Half-real. It was cooler by nearly 5 degrees Celsius, which was almost shockingly cold to my heat-acclimated body. I enjoyed my air conditioner and a nice, cold shower, reveling in my ability to just not be hot or sticky for a little while.
I was messing around on the internet when Josh contacted me, quite out of the blue. Our last geek-out session was a while ago, but it ended nicely. We conversed via cell phone text messaging for a while, but soon he recommended I install Skype and we talk using that method. A few minutes later I had fished out my headset and was finishing installing the program. A quick configuration had me up and running, and soon Josh and I were talking via the power of the Internets.
We chatted as we both surfed online. Our conversation ranged from comics to games to movies. One topic, though, we came back to, again and again. Food. We were both quite hungry, having not had much in the way of food for the day. I had developed a craving for Mexican food, and communicated my plight to my friend. He claimed to be an excellent cook, his mother having instructed him in the culinary arts "so that any wife of his wouldn't do all the work". God bless her. We plotted to meet up and galavant around Hitachi and Hitachi-Naka, the nearest town, in order to accumulate the ingredients for a truly delicious dinner.
We met at Hitachi station around mid-day and took a bus down toward Hitachi-Naka. Hitachi-Naka is a town slightly smaller than Hitachi, directly to the south. Our first stop was Wonder Goo, given that the bus stop nearest to our final destination, a food shop called Yamaya, was literally in front of the media store.
We browsed the shelves of games and DVDs together, marveling at the sheer volume of pristine, yet used, media for super-low prices. I found a copy of the first Conan movie, something I'd been longing to watch for quite some time, and a copy of Nightwatch, a movie I hadn't seen in ages. Josh procured a used PS2 game and a DVD of...ill repute.
We'd spent a few hours just browsing and chatting, and felt the turning of the world. We hoofed it to Yamaya, a brisk 20 minute walk from Wonder Goo. Yamaya is a truly wonderful place, because it sells Western food. Cheap, delicious, Western food. Tortilla chips. Salsa. Pasta. All with English labels, too. So much of it was unhealthy, but then again some of it wasn't. I got a lot of stuff, including some tasty wannabe Wheat-Thins and some dried banana chips.
We purchased our consumables and exited to wait for the bus. Alas, our lack of Japanese language knowledge did not allow us to realize that this particular bus was not running that night. We caught another bus at a (relatively) near-by bus stop and rode back to the Hitachi-Naka train station. We had to wait nearly an hour for the next train, due to the lack of local service this far out in the sticks.
We finally got back to Hitachi and made our way back to my apartment. I had cleaned before I met up with Josh, resulting in a kitchen usable by someone other than me since I moved in. We set about cooking, preparing beans, cooking up a maker full of rice, cutting and cooking chicken, chopping veggies and slicing cheese. I warmed up the laptop for some entertainment. Within an hour, we sat down to a pile of home-cooked burritos.
The original plan was to watch Firefly, which Josh owned but had never seen. The original plan had to be changed, due to the lateness of our dinner's preparation. We tucked in whilst I loaded up some of my prime YouTube favorites.
After eating our fill of burrito, we lounged in Internet Media bliss for an hour or so. The time grew late, and our bellies did a good job of anchoring us to the spot. I offered my couch to Josh, given that I'd taken to using my futon once again, which he happily agreed to. We drifted off to sleep staring at the ceiling, talking softly over the hum of the air conditioner. We watched the dark surfaces of my apartment become briefly painted by silvery light by passing cars as we talked. It was, almost perfectly, like a sleepover from my childhood.
Right. Continuing recap.
My first day back in Hitachi after my 4-day adventure felt...surreal. Half-real. It was cooler by nearly 5 degrees Celsius, which was almost shockingly cold to my heat-acclimated body. I enjoyed my air conditioner and a nice, cold shower, reveling in my ability to just not be hot or sticky for a little while.
I was messing around on the internet when Josh contacted me, quite out of the blue. Our last geek-out session was a while ago, but it ended nicely. We conversed via cell phone text messaging for a while, but soon he recommended I install Skype and we talk using that method. A few minutes later I had fished out my headset and was finishing installing the program. A quick configuration had me up and running, and soon Josh and I were talking via the power of the Internets.
We chatted as we both surfed online. Our conversation ranged from comics to games to movies. One topic, though, we came back to, again and again. Food. We were both quite hungry, having not had much in the way of food for the day. I had developed a craving for Mexican food, and communicated my plight to my friend. He claimed to be an excellent cook, his mother having instructed him in the culinary arts "so that any wife of his wouldn't do all the work". God bless her. We plotted to meet up and galavant around Hitachi and Hitachi-Naka, the nearest town, in order to accumulate the ingredients for a truly delicious dinner.
We met at Hitachi station around mid-day and took a bus down toward Hitachi-Naka. Hitachi-Naka is a town slightly smaller than Hitachi, directly to the south. Our first stop was Wonder Goo, given that the bus stop nearest to our final destination, a food shop called Yamaya, was literally in front of the media store.
We browsed the shelves of games and DVDs together, marveling at the sheer volume of pristine, yet used, media for super-low prices. I found a copy of the first Conan movie, something I'd been longing to watch for quite some time, and a copy of Nightwatch, a movie I hadn't seen in ages. Josh procured a used PS2 game and a DVD of...ill repute.
We'd spent a few hours just browsing and chatting, and felt the turning of the world. We hoofed it to Yamaya, a brisk 20 minute walk from Wonder Goo. Yamaya is a truly wonderful place, because it sells Western food. Cheap, delicious, Western food. Tortilla chips. Salsa. Pasta. All with English labels, too. So much of it was unhealthy, but then again some of it wasn't. I got a lot of stuff, including some tasty wannabe Wheat-Thins and some dried banana chips.
We purchased our consumables and exited to wait for the bus. Alas, our lack of Japanese language knowledge did not allow us to realize that this particular bus was not running that night. We caught another bus at a (relatively) near-by bus stop and rode back to the Hitachi-Naka train station. We had to wait nearly an hour for the next train, due to the lack of local service this far out in the sticks.
We finally got back to Hitachi and made our way back to my apartment. I had cleaned before I met up with Josh, resulting in a kitchen usable by someone other than me since I moved in. We set about cooking, preparing beans, cooking up a maker full of rice, cutting and cooking chicken, chopping veggies and slicing cheese. I warmed up the laptop for some entertainment. Within an hour, we sat down to a pile of home-cooked burritos.
The original plan was to watch Firefly, which Josh owned but had never seen. The original plan had to be changed, due to the lateness of our dinner's preparation. We tucked in whilst I loaded up some of my prime YouTube favorites.
After eating our fill of burrito, we lounged in Internet Media bliss for an hour or so. The time grew late, and our bellies did a good job of anchoring us to the spot. I offered my couch to Josh, given that I'd taken to using my futon once again, which he happily agreed to. We drifted off to sleep staring at the ceiling, talking softly over the hum of the air conditioner. We watched the dark surfaces of my apartment become briefly painted by silvery light by passing cars as we talked. It was, almost perfectly, like a sleepover from my childhood.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
I'm getting caught up *today*
J113.2 Monday August 13th (again, damnit)
Up I traveled. Up and up a hill that grew steeper with every dozen meters or so. There were many people traversing the road I was on, and many more taking small side streets or ducking into shops. I ran into two middle-aged couples from Connecticut. One of the couple's son was an English teacher in Nara, and they were in town to visit him and see Japan. He had settled down some years ago, marrying a local girl and starting a family. They seemed like travel veterans, though I couldn't help but detect a certain...I'm not quite sure. Not quite like they were looking down on me, but maybe they were...unimpressed? It was strange; neither of the men looked at me directly for more than a few seconds. Nothing negative happened, or was said, but it was still a weird vibe I got from the encounter.
But, nothing could dampen my enthusiasm for the hill. I neared the top of the hill, as indicated by a large swath of trees and greenery that lined where the buildings ended. The street stopped at the foot of some large switchback stairs. I scaled up, catching tantalizing glimpses of old Japanese architecture and bright colors, telltale signs of temples and shrines in this country.
I climbed to the top of the stairs, and beheld the first of many wonders of the Kyomizu temple. A massive gate, painted bright red, shone in the sun like a beacon. Through its shaded arch passed dozens of people every few seconds, and the hilltop was buzzing with people. Hundreds of people sought shelter from the sun in the shade of trees. Many more perused shops, built to resemble Edo/Meji era store fronts, but sporting such modern conveniences as electricity and air conditioning.
Looking down the hill, along a street I had paralleled as I climbed, I saw shop after shop, stretching off into the distance and ultimately disappearing behind the gentle curve of the street. Amongst the crowd was a Buddhist monk, standing quite still with her begging bowl in her praying hands. Her face was hidden by her wide straw hat, but her mouth was visible. She was constantly praying, repeating mantras and sutras in a never-ending half whisper of devotion. Every once in a while someone from the crowd would give her a few coins. She would reciprocate with a long, low bow. I gave some money of my own and joined her in prayer for a few seconds. I turned to the temple complex.
I passed through the gates, enjoying the view of Kyoto the mountainside temple had to offer. Every other person had a camera, and people were always stopping for good shots. It's nice being a photography enthusiast in a country where the camera is so loved; people don't mind when you snap a quick picture or two. In the States, I'd sometimes be met with an odd stare or two, but in Japan people accept my actions without a second thought.
The path I walked along was very broad; wide enough to accept 10 people walking shoulder to shoulder. There were many people, but it never felt crowded thanks to the wide walkways and large amounts of space devoted to pedestrian movement. The first large temple I came to was nice, very low and very wide. Near the donation box was a small set of stairs that went down into darkness. At the top of the stairs was a barker explaining the attraction below the temple.
Carved into the mountain's rock, beneath the temple's floor, was a small cave. Within the cave was a wishing wheel, a large, smooth boulder that had been carved and balanced so as to rotate easily around, like a Lazy Susan. The tunnel was quite dark, and one had to find one's own way. When you found the stone, you were supposed to turn it three times and make a wish. Admission was 100 yen. I was so on that.
I shucked my shoes, carrying them in a plastic bag provided by the temple, and descended into darkness. Just a few feet down, the cool, damp atmosphere of the cave was shockingly different from the heat of the day. It was like wading into a pool of cold water. The cave was also very much pitch black. I heard the hustle above, though, and voices before me, so I knew I wasn't alone. I put my hand to the right wall and walked forward slowly, my left hand held out in front of me so as to feel for incoming objects or people. I stooped a bit, but after lifting my free arm to feel for the ceiling and finding nothing, I stood to my full height, determining the roof to be quite tall.
Around and around I twisted through the inky blackness. The darkness was so complete that I could literally see nothing. No light reflected off of my surroundings. No guide lights or ushers lit my path. The sounds of the temple above were muted by feet of stone and soil and wood. It was quite comforting. The experience was built to evoke being within the safety of the womb, and I must say I certainly felt safe within that darkness.
After a few minutes of walking, I finally came upon the stone. It was lit from above by a single light, hidden by a clever, sharp turn of the tunnel. It seemed to float before my vision as if suspended by magic. It was like I had been blinded and then miraculously cured, and the first thing I saw was this stone. I made my wish and turned the rock, easily done given its size, and felt my way along the tunnel once more.
I found the stairs up, a twin set to the ones I had used to descend, and was greeted by the barker. I used a complimentary stool to put my shoes on, and once again ventured out into the sun. The temple's path lead up to the foot of a tall pagoda, and wrapped around a set of large temples. I followed the crowd, walking onto a large, open-air covered platform suspended above a small mountain valley. Below I saw more people meandering, and across the valley I saw a few small structures poking their spires above the treetops.
The platform was quite wide. In fact, at first, I didn't realize it was a platform; I thought it was just another temple with a large porch, but when I looked over the edge, I saw the massive support beams. The platform fed two large temples, both of which sported rest areas for pilgrims to sit, catch their breath, and recite extended prayers or devotions to the resident kami.
I walked on, finding myself in what almost looked to be a shopping district. A dozen small shrines and other builds had been built into a tiny space. The path split, going ahead in one direction, and doubling back to a higher platform with even more temples in it. I took the high road first, where I was greeted by an interesting sight.
The upper ridge was dominated by a medium-width path of smooth stone tiles. On opposite sides of the path rested two small boulders. According to a sign I found on the far end of the avenue, if a person can walk a straight line from one stone to the other, then they are destined to be with that person forever. If not...well...bad things. I watched several couples attempt it. I say couples, but in reality is was almost exclusively females, with the exception of one male who made the attempt as I watched.
The upper ridge and the lower path met with a modest ridge between them. On this middle ridge were several shrines and temples, but most eye-catching was one building where maiko kept entering and exiting. Maiko are temple maidens in Japan, young women who tend shrines and in general do neat stuff for the temple. It doesn't hurt that their outfit tends to be kind of retro, and just a little bit cute.
After taking a few pictures of a maiko and the surrounding shrines, I moved along. The crowd I was in passed two more temples, these in the shade of the tall trees on the far side of the valley, thanks to the early-setting sun. I forged ahead, thankful for th cool shadows. Alongside the temples in this area were little restaurant-style food shops. Open air tents had been set up to provide shade to patrons whilst they munched on a variety of delicious and cool treats. I decided to save my money, given that I was still possessed of a good bottle of water, and I wasn't that hungry yet.
I next came to a large bridge that spanned another stretch of the valley below. This was the first place that had an entry fee, which I readily paid. 500 yen later, I crossed through a small brass and wood gate, and found myself at the mouth of another temple. A crowd had gathered around some odd instruments, and I investigated. Set within an odd apparatus of wood were three iron implements of...something. Two monk's staves, a small one and a big one, and an over sized pair of geta, were fashioned out of solid iron. These objects were chained and locked in place to their display case, but were exposed to the crowd, allowing people the chance to lift the objects.
I could lift the smaller of the two without too much difficulty. The larger one didn't budge an inch, though; it was like trying to lift a car. The shoes were weighty, but were by far the lightest of the trio, and I could lift them too. A large contingent of Italian (I think) grad students were among the crowd, and amongst the strongest of their number sought to lift the massive implements of faith. The biggest man of the group managed to lift the larger of the two staves about a 4 inches off of the ground, to much applause.
Finally, the path curved to descend into the valley. The crowd passed shrine after shrine, pagoda after temple after graveyard. At the bottom of the valley I looked up and saw the wooden platform I had been perched atop. Crowds still gathered at its lip, looking down on the people below. Rounding a bend, I finally came to the main attraction of the temple: the Kyomizu shrine.
In a small crevasse of the mountain was nestled a stone temple. At its base was a square pool, also fashioned of carved stone. The pool was filled by three spigots that poured never-ending streams of water from the temple's roof. A small line lead up to the temple's body, where I saw people using long-handled ladles to collect the water. Some people drank it, others washed their hands in ritual cleansing. Still others collected it in cups or bottles. People took their time, but the line moved quickly enough.
I drank the rest of my bottled water, so as to have a container of my own, and I stood in line. A booth at the foot of the temple was selling traditional-looking plastic cups, but my water bottle would do nicely. After a few minutes of waiting I got to the front of the line. The ladles were stored in a rack of sterilization chambers. The little boxes used high-powered UV light to quickly kill any and all critters that clung to the dippers, for which I was thankful. I pulled a ladle from the rack and positioned myself under the temple's overhang. With a bit of wrangling, I managed to fill my bottle with the cold mountain spring water. I took a long pull from my ladle after filling it, enjoying the taste of untreated spring water. It had a slight mineral taste, with a hint of sulfur to it, but it was quite refreshing.
I tried to make my way back to the UV rack, but my passage was blocked by the crowd. A Japanese man further back in the crowd saw my plight and kindly took my ladle, replacing it himself. I thanked him and walked on.
The path turned downhill quickly, returning me to where I had first climbed the steps at the top of the mighty hill. A small snack stand, similar to the ones I'd seen within the temple, was off to the side, and I decided to get some food. It had been a long time since I'd eaten, and I was feeling it. I ordered a bowl of shaved ice (lemon flavored) and a plate of dango. Dango is a traditional Japanese treat; little, chewy balls of dough served on long bamboo skewers, slathered in a semi-sweet sauce.
The treats were delicious, but extremely sweet to my sugar-starved tongue. I've given up most sugary foods now that I'm here, and eating these confections was like drinking corn syrup from a hose.
I climbed the stairs once again and walked down the shop-lined hill I had missed on the way up. Tons and tons of tourist merchandise was for sale in these shops. I stopped at a confectioner's shop and bought a box of sweets for the office. Thin sheets of rice goo folded over small dollops of dark, sweet chocolate. Delicious.
The crowds were thinning, but the shops were still open. I saw book shops and souvenir stands. Several shops sold prayer beads like the one I had purchased at the mausoleum. The beads ranged from the affordable and simple to the ornate and expensive. They also had massive recreations of prayer beads, both short bracelets and long necklaces, that were as tall as a child. The wooden beads that composed these behemoths were easily the size of my fist. For the goth crowd (though I'm sure such is not the target audience of the original designer) there were prayer beads made from tiny skulls.
I meandered my way down the hill, pausing to catch pictures of the people and structures I saw. A pair of geisha were decked out in their full attire, posing for pictures with what looked to be a professional photographer. I snapped a few shots of my own, along with a small crowd. A large pagoda sprung from behind a building, dominating the hillside. At long last I left the fantastic area of old-fashioned shops and found myself once again on the mundane streets of Kyoto. It was getting late, now, nearing 5 PM, and I knew that I had to get to the station soon to book a trip back home.
I started walking toward the station, realizing that I'd wound up not too far from where I'd exited the overcrowded bus earlier that morning. It felt like years had passed since then. I walked along, knowing roughly where I was going, but not quite sure. I asked a passerby, a young man in a motorcycle jacket carrying a helmet, for directions. He said that he was going to the station himself, and that I could follow him. I fell in beside him, pausing every few minutes to snap a few shots of a cool monument or building. We were walking toward the setting sun, making for striking photo opportunities.
After 20 minutes of walking, we arrived at Kyoto station. I thanked my guide and hurried to the coin lockers to retrieve my blue duffel once again. I made my way to the station's ticket office and was able to get an attendant who spoke a little English. I still try to use as much Japanese as I possibly can when I talk to English speakers, but it's nice to know that they can help if I can't remember the right words.
I purchased a Shinkansen ticket that would take me to Tokyo, and then a local ticket that would take me home to Hitachi. I lugged my baggage to the platform and waited for my train. The platform was open to the air, and offered a truly majestic view of the city. The wide, low-lipped bowl of the mountains that cradled Kyoto were aflame with the setting sun, and the entire city seemed for a moment fashioned out of brass. Clouds had begun to creep up from beyond the eastern mountains, and made for a dramatic sky to compliment the sun-colored city.
I boarded my train at around 6:30PM, thankful for the lack of crowds. After a few minutes of waiting the train took off, accelerating out of the gate quickly. I got a final view of Kyoto as the dark clouds above quickened the coming night, lit from below by the last rays of the sun. The city was nearing darkness itself, its lights quickly coming on in an aggregate of pinpoints of white.
The mountains beyond Kyoto were wreathed in what looked like storm clouds, providing a dramatic exit to the city. Try as I might, I fell into a light slumber soon after, rousing myself to purchase a few sandwiches from the food cart as the attendant paced the aisle.
I arrived in Tokyo a little more than an hour and a half later, making my way through that city's mass transit system as best I could. A quick hop on the Yamanote line found me in Ueno, where I boarded a crowded Rapid local train to Hitachi. At first there was no room to sit, but as the train shed passengers I found a seat.
For hours more the train made its way north, passing ever-more familiar towns and cities as I neared my home. We stopped for nearly an hour at one point, prompting me to worry somewhat about my travel choice, but we were underway soon enough. A madman sat across from me, muttering in varying volumes in Japanese and practicing his baseball pitching skills whilst the train was stopped. Like all man-children he wore shorts that were too short. Why is that?
Finally, after what felt like years, the train pulled in to Hitachi station. I hailed a cab and dragged my worn out body up the stairs. I collapsed onto my futon and slept, marveling as I drifted off to sleep at my adventure. I had traveled farther than I ever had in Japan before, a trip of over 1000 kilometers. I had done it completely improvisational. And it worked.
Good night, readers.
Up I traveled. Up and up a hill that grew steeper with every dozen meters or so. There were many people traversing the road I was on, and many more taking small side streets or ducking into shops. I ran into two middle-aged couples from Connecticut. One of the couple's son was an English teacher in Nara, and they were in town to visit him and see Japan. He had settled down some years ago, marrying a local girl and starting a family. They seemed like travel veterans, though I couldn't help but detect a certain...I'm not quite sure. Not quite like they were looking down on me, but maybe they were...unimpressed? It was strange; neither of the men looked at me directly for more than a few seconds. Nothing negative happened, or was said, but it was still a weird vibe I got from the encounter.
But, nothing could dampen my enthusiasm for the hill. I neared the top of the hill, as indicated by a large swath of trees and greenery that lined where the buildings ended. The street stopped at the foot of some large switchback stairs. I scaled up, catching tantalizing glimpses of old Japanese architecture and bright colors, telltale signs of temples and shrines in this country.
I climbed to the top of the stairs, and beheld the first of many wonders of the Kyomizu temple. A massive gate, painted bright red, shone in the sun like a beacon. Through its shaded arch passed dozens of people every few seconds, and the hilltop was buzzing with people. Hundreds of people sought shelter from the sun in the shade of trees. Many more perused shops, built to resemble Edo/Meji era store fronts, but sporting such modern conveniences as electricity and air conditioning.
Looking down the hill, along a street I had paralleled as I climbed, I saw shop after shop, stretching off into the distance and ultimately disappearing behind the gentle curve of the street. Amongst the crowd was a Buddhist monk, standing quite still with her begging bowl in her praying hands. Her face was hidden by her wide straw hat, but her mouth was visible. She was constantly praying, repeating mantras and sutras in a never-ending half whisper of devotion. Every once in a while someone from the crowd would give her a few coins. She would reciprocate with a long, low bow. I gave some money of my own and joined her in prayer for a few seconds. I turned to the temple complex.
I passed through the gates, enjoying the view of Kyoto the mountainside temple had to offer. Every other person had a camera, and people were always stopping for good shots. It's nice being a photography enthusiast in a country where the camera is so loved; people don't mind when you snap a quick picture or two. In the States, I'd sometimes be met with an odd stare or two, but in Japan people accept my actions without a second thought.
The path I walked along was very broad; wide enough to accept 10 people walking shoulder to shoulder. There were many people, but it never felt crowded thanks to the wide walkways and large amounts of space devoted to pedestrian movement. The first large temple I came to was nice, very low and very wide. Near the donation box was a small set of stairs that went down into darkness. At the top of the stairs was a barker explaining the attraction below the temple.
Carved into the mountain's rock, beneath the temple's floor, was a small cave. Within the cave was a wishing wheel, a large, smooth boulder that had been carved and balanced so as to rotate easily around, like a Lazy Susan. The tunnel was quite dark, and one had to find one's own way. When you found the stone, you were supposed to turn it three times and make a wish. Admission was 100 yen. I was so on that.
I shucked my shoes, carrying them in a plastic bag provided by the temple, and descended into darkness. Just a few feet down, the cool, damp atmosphere of the cave was shockingly different from the heat of the day. It was like wading into a pool of cold water. The cave was also very much pitch black. I heard the hustle above, though, and voices before me, so I knew I wasn't alone. I put my hand to the right wall and walked forward slowly, my left hand held out in front of me so as to feel for incoming objects or people. I stooped a bit, but after lifting my free arm to feel for the ceiling and finding nothing, I stood to my full height, determining the roof to be quite tall.
Around and around I twisted through the inky blackness. The darkness was so complete that I could literally see nothing. No light reflected off of my surroundings. No guide lights or ushers lit my path. The sounds of the temple above were muted by feet of stone and soil and wood. It was quite comforting. The experience was built to evoke being within the safety of the womb, and I must say I certainly felt safe within that darkness.
After a few minutes of walking, I finally came upon the stone. It was lit from above by a single light, hidden by a clever, sharp turn of the tunnel. It seemed to float before my vision as if suspended by magic. It was like I had been blinded and then miraculously cured, and the first thing I saw was this stone. I made my wish and turned the rock, easily done given its size, and felt my way along the tunnel once more.
I found the stairs up, a twin set to the ones I had used to descend, and was greeted by the barker. I used a complimentary stool to put my shoes on, and once again ventured out into the sun. The temple's path lead up to the foot of a tall pagoda, and wrapped around a set of large temples. I followed the crowd, walking onto a large, open-air covered platform suspended above a small mountain valley. Below I saw more people meandering, and across the valley I saw a few small structures poking their spires above the treetops.
The platform was quite wide. In fact, at first, I didn't realize it was a platform; I thought it was just another temple with a large porch, but when I looked over the edge, I saw the massive support beams. The platform fed two large temples, both of which sported rest areas for pilgrims to sit, catch their breath, and recite extended prayers or devotions to the resident kami.
I walked on, finding myself in what almost looked to be a shopping district. A dozen small shrines and other builds had been built into a tiny space. The path split, going ahead in one direction, and doubling back to a higher platform with even more temples in it. I took the high road first, where I was greeted by an interesting sight.
The upper ridge was dominated by a medium-width path of smooth stone tiles. On opposite sides of the path rested two small boulders. According to a sign I found on the far end of the avenue, if a person can walk a straight line from one stone to the other, then they are destined to be with that person forever. If not...well...bad things. I watched several couples attempt it. I say couples, but in reality is was almost exclusively females, with the exception of one male who made the attempt as I watched.
The upper ridge and the lower path met with a modest ridge between them. On this middle ridge were several shrines and temples, but most eye-catching was one building where maiko kept entering and exiting. Maiko are temple maidens in Japan, young women who tend shrines and in general do neat stuff for the temple. It doesn't hurt that their outfit tends to be kind of retro, and just a little bit cute.
After taking a few pictures of a maiko and the surrounding shrines, I moved along. The crowd I was in passed two more temples, these in the shade of the tall trees on the far side of the valley, thanks to the early-setting sun. I forged ahead, thankful for th cool shadows. Alongside the temples in this area were little restaurant-style food shops. Open air tents had been set up to provide shade to patrons whilst they munched on a variety of delicious and cool treats. I decided to save my money, given that I was still possessed of a good bottle of water, and I wasn't that hungry yet.
I next came to a large bridge that spanned another stretch of the valley below. This was the first place that had an entry fee, which I readily paid. 500 yen later, I crossed through a small brass and wood gate, and found myself at the mouth of another temple. A crowd had gathered around some odd instruments, and I investigated. Set within an odd apparatus of wood were three iron implements of...something. Two monk's staves, a small one and a big one, and an over sized pair of geta, were fashioned out of solid iron. These objects were chained and locked in place to their display case, but were exposed to the crowd, allowing people the chance to lift the objects.
I could lift the smaller of the two without too much difficulty. The larger one didn't budge an inch, though; it was like trying to lift a car. The shoes were weighty, but were by far the lightest of the trio, and I could lift them too. A large contingent of Italian (I think) grad students were among the crowd, and amongst the strongest of their number sought to lift the massive implements of faith. The biggest man of the group managed to lift the larger of the two staves about a 4 inches off of the ground, to much applause.
Finally, the path curved to descend into the valley. The crowd passed shrine after shrine, pagoda after temple after graveyard. At the bottom of the valley I looked up and saw the wooden platform I had been perched atop. Crowds still gathered at its lip, looking down on the people below. Rounding a bend, I finally came to the main attraction of the temple: the Kyomizu shrine.
In a small crevasse of the mountain was nestled a stone temple. At its base was a square pool, also fashioned of carved stone. The pool was filled by three spigots that poured never-ending streams of water from the temple's roof. A small line lead up to the temple's body, where I saw people using long-handled ladles to collect the water. Some people drank it, others washed their hands in ritual cleansing. Still others collected it in cups or bottles. People took their time, but the line moved quickly enough.
I drank the rest of my bottled water, so as to have a container of my own, and I stood in line. A booth at the foot of the temple was selling traditional-looking plastic cups, but my water bottle would do nicely. After a few minutes of waiting I got to the front of the line. The ladles were stored in a rack of sterilization chambers. The little boxes used high-powered UV light to quickly kill any and all critters that clung to the dippers, for which I was thankful. I pulled a ladle from the rack and positioned myself under the temple's overhang. With a bit of wrangling, I managed to fill my bottle with the cold mountain spring water. I took a long pull from my ladle after filling it, enjoying the taste of untreated spring water. It had a slight mineral taste, with a hint of sulfur to it, but it was quite refreshing.
I tried to make my way back to the UV rack, but my passage was blocked by the crowd. A Japanese man further back in the crowd saw my plight and kindly took my ladle, replacing it himself. I thanked him and walked on.
The path turned downhill quickly, returning me to where I had first climbed the steps at the top of the mighty hill. A small snack stand, similar to the ones I'd seen within the temple, was off to the side, and I decided to get some food. It had been a long time since I'd eaten, and I was feeling it. I ordered a bowl of shaved ice (lemon flavored) and a plate of dango. Dango is a traditional Japanese treat; little, chewy balls of dough served on long bamboo skewers, slathered in a semi-sweet sauce.
The treats were delicious, but extremely sweet to my sugar-starved tongue. I've given up most sugary foods now that I'm here, and eating these confections was like drinking corn syrup from a hose.
I climbed the stairs once again and walked down the shop-lined hill I had missed on the way up. Tons and tons of tourist merchandise was for sale in these shops. I stopped at a confectioner's shop and bought a box of sweets for the office. Thin sheets of rice goo folded over small dollops of dark, sweet chocolate. Delicious.
The crowds were thinning, but the shops were still open. I saw book shops and souvenir stands. Several shops sold prayer beads like the one I had purchased at the mausoleum. The beads ranged from the affordable and simple to the ornate and expensive. They also had massive recreations of prayer beads, both short bracelets and long necklaces, that were as tall as a child. The wooden beads that composed these behemoths were easily the size of my fist. For the goth crowd (though I'm sure such is not the target audience of the original designer) there were prayer beads made from tiny skulls.
I meandered my way down the hill, pausing to catch pictures of the people and structures I saw. A pair of geisha were decked out in their full attire, posing for pictures with what looked to be a professional photographer. I snapped a few shots of my own, along with a small crowd. A large pagoda sprung from behind a building, dominating the hillside. At long last I left the fantastic area of old-fashioned shops and found myself once again on the mundane streets of Kyoto. It was getting late, now, nearing 5 PM, and I knew that I had to get to the station soon to book a trip back home.
I started walking toward the station, realizing that I'd wound up not too far from where I'd exited the overcrowded bus earlier that morning. It felt like years had passed since then. I walked along, knowing roughly where I was going, but not quite sure. I asked a passerby, a young man in a motorcycle jacket carrying a helmet, for directions. He said that he was going to the station himself, and that I could follow him. I fell in beside him, pausing every few minutes to snap a few shots of a cool monument or building. We were walking toward the setting sun, making for striking photo opportunities.
After 20 minutes of walking, we arrived at Kyoto station. I thanked my guide and hurried to the coin lockers to retrieve my blue duffel once again. I made my way to the station's ticket office and was able to get an attendant who spoke a little English. I still try to use as much Japanese as I possibly can when I talk to English speakers, but it's nice to know that they can help if I can't remember the right words.
I purchased a Shinkansen ticket that would take me to Tokyo, and then a local ticket that would take me home to Hitachi. I lugged my baggage to the platform and waited for my train. The platform was open to the air, and offered a truly majestic view of the city. The wide, low-lipped bowl of the mountains that cradled Kyoto were aflame with the setting sun, and the entire city seemed for a moment fashioned out of brass. Clouds had begun to creep up from beyond the eastern mountains, and made for a dramatic sky to compliment the sun-colored city.
I boarded my train at around 6:30PM, thankful for the lack of crowds. After a few minutes of waiting the train took off, accelerating out of the gate quickly. I got a final view of Kyoto as the dark clouds above quickened the coming night, lit from below by the last rays of the sun. The city was nearing darkness itself, its lights quickly coming on in an aggregate of pinpoints of white.
The mountains beyond Kyoto were wreathed in what looked like storm clouds, providing a dramatic exit to the city. Try as I might, I fell into a light slumber soon after, rousing myself to purchase a few sandwiches from the food cart as the attendant paced the aisle.
I arrived in Tokyo a little more than an hour and a half later, making my way through that city's mass transit system as best I could. A quick hop on the Yamanote line found me in Ueno, where I boarded a crowded Rapid local train to Hitachi. At first there was no room to sit, but as the train shed passengers I found a seat.
For hours more the train made its way north, passing ever-more familiar towns and cities as I neared my home. We stopped for nearly an hour at one point, prompting me to worry somewhat about my travel choice, but we were underway soon enough. A madman sat across from me, muttering in varying volumes in Japanese and practicing his baseball pitching skills whilst the train was stopped. Like all man-children he wore shorts that were too short. Why is that?
Finally, after what felt like years, the train pulled in to Hitachi station. I hailed a cab and dragged my worn out body up the stairs. I collapsed onto my futon and slept, marveling as I drifted off to sleep at my adventure. I had traveled farther than I ever had in Japan before, a trip of over 1000 kilometers. I had done it completely improvisational. And it worked.
Good night, readers.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Vacation Recap! Part Two!!
J111 Saturday August 11th
Up bright and early with the sun! Well, not that early. My sleep at the Internet Cafe was suitable, but the A.C. kept going in cycles. But other than that, it was okay. Brain and I had made plans for the day; he and I were to meet at 10AM in front of Akihabara station. I tried to purchase shower time, but there was some sort of problem. I think there was a line, and they weren't letting anyone else get in it. Or something.
So, showerless, I headed to Yodabashi Camera to meet Brain. I waited with the crowd to kill the time, informing Brain, via cell phone, of my desire to become clean before doing anything important. When he and I met up, we set about trying to find somewhere that could accommodate me. We walked a good 15 minutes before finding a hotel, but it didn't offer separate shower services. The concierge recommended we look for a hotel elsewhere, and gave us some directions. We hopped the train for one stop and managed to find, after a little more walking, a capsule hotel. Most capsule hotels offer bath and shower services to guests, but you have the option of just purchasing bath time. Brain waited in the lobby while I purchased 20 minutes of shower time.
The setup was really nice. It was, essentially, like a men's locker room in an American gym. Super-slim lockers held your stuff while you bathed, and you were provided with a robe and a towel. The were in and out of the locker room all the time, quite comfortable with their guests' various forms of undress. When in Rome, as they say. In all, it wasn't that embarrassing; I'd been naked in front of plenty of people in my life so far, and this was no different.
There was only one shower stall, but this was a Japanese-style bath. This means that, first, you scrub yourself with soap and shampoo your hair whilst sitting on a stool, rinsing yourself off with a shower hose, but not standing up. The stall is there for those who want a good hose off before soaking in one of several mega hot tubs, each sporting varying degrees of heated water.
I had both limited time and an intense need for cleanliness, so I just jumped right into the stall. There were only two other bathers, both quite engrossed in their stool-mounted cleaning cycles, so there wasn't a line. I enjoyed a nice, cool shower with lots of scrubbing. I exited quickly, refreshed and clean and eager to go out into Tokyo once more. I donned a fresh set of clothes from my duffel. I retrieved my shoes (which are confiscated upon checking in to a capsule hotel, as a security measure that you will not leave before check out) and Brain and I left.
I wanted to see the offices and studio of Gainax. I have long been a fan of their work, and knew that their offices were in the greater Tokyo metropolitan area. Brain had managed to find a map on their website and had plotted a route that would get us in the right neighborhood. We rode the trains for a few hours, almost to the end of the line. We got off at a somewhat desolate area, Brain directing our walking to the north. We walked through rural areas, past a few small gardens and a park, but we couldn't find Gainax's offices.
We looped back and forth several times, sure we were just missing something. Eventually we found the area's koban (Police Box. Super-useful and very polite, the policemen teams of two stationed here will bend over backwards to help you) and inquired as to the location of the city district we were looking for. The police officers informed us that the place we sought was, indeed, to the north, but we were one train stop too far to the south. Oops. Brain and I boarded the next north-bound train with all due speed.
At the next train stop we once again walked north. We passed more apartments and parking lots, until eventually we ran out of road. We looked around in despair, thinking that our map was wrong. Until I saw, in plain, blue letters that were hidden in plain sight, the word "Gainax". We had found it.
At the end of a small, country road, in the outskirts of rural Tokyo, at the far end of what was an abandoned train depot, stood a small, white building. It could have easily been the offices of some municipal branch, the Greater North Tokyo Bureau of Bicycle Repair, or something. But, no, within those simple white walls sat some of the most creative and original minds in Japanese animation the modern times have yet seen. It was a sublime moment.
Brain and I approached the building, wondering what lay within. We entered the first set of doors, electronic sliders that parted for us. We soon realized that their offices were closed for the weekend, however. The lights were dark and all the cardboard cutout displays were tucked away behind the second set of glass doors. These would not open for us, as they were locked by electronic key. We heard the distant sound of a vending machine dispensing a delicious, frosty beverage, but we saw no human habitation. Those few Gainax staff who were working were not aware of our presence.
Brain and I started back to the train station, only to see a Gainax employee returning to his weekend work day with a sack of conbini lunch in hand and a delivery guy making a package drop. As if in mockery of our inability to gain access to the inner sanctum of Gainax, they effortlessly went inside, to pursue activities obscure and unknown.
Not knowing what to do next, we decided to head back into Tokyo proper. We got off somewhere in the heart of Tokyo and, after walking around for a few minutes, we found a Yodabashi. Having yet visited one of the electronics megastores, I suggested we duck in. Brain complied, and we enjoyed some window shopping. We wound up on the toy/model floor and perused the various products. Plans for the rest of the day began to form.
Brain suggested that I travel to Kyoto that night, rather than spend more money in Tokyo's expensive sleeping establishments. I agreed, but stated that I'd need two things before I got underway: food and an ATM. Brain took me to a nice Indian restaurant (a food I'd never really tried until juuuust before I left, which I find I love). I had a delicious chicken curry with a huge piece of nan. Mmm....nan.
Brain surmised, and I agreed with his opinion, that the Shinkansen, the bullet train, would be the best way to get to Kyoto. We retrieved my duffel from Shibuya station, where it had been stored in a coin locker since the morning, after my shower, and we set out to find an ATM at near the Shinkansen station. Alas, the stars were not in alignment, and I couldn't get the damn thing to work.
We trudged back to the station, whence I purchased my ticket to Kyoto. Brain kindly lent me some cash, so that I would be able to pay for a hotel room for the night. Chalk it up to more generosity on his behalf that I must pay back in kind. We parted ways at the station, with a final request from me for him to look up hotel information online while I rode to Kyoto.
I boarded the Shinkansen after Brain and I separated, and settled in for a short nap. I was long-past the point of exhaustion, and was running on a sort of animal core logic. I knew that if I could just get to a comfortable place to sleep, that all would be well.
The Shinkansen is aptly named. It is super fast. Even though it was well into the night, which in Japan is made darker by the lack of light saturation, I could still tell we moved at titanic speeds. I nodded off several times through the ride, desperate for sleep but paranoid of missing my stop. After over 500 kilometers of rapid ground transit, my train arrived in Kyoto.
I stumbled out of the massive Kyoto train station into the night. Brain had had success at finding hotels near the station, and I set out to find them. I exited the station on the wrong end, and had to walk back through the whole thing to get to the correct side. I found the taxi area and requested to be taken to one of the hotels Brain had recommended. It wasn't that far from the station, but I was in a world of hurt.
I was delighted to find the concierge spoke excellent English. I was saddened, however, when, while using her excellent English, she informed me that there were no rooms. Their companion hotel, too, had no rooms to rent for the night. They gave me a map with a few ryokan, traditional Japanese inns, marked out, and I set out into the unfamiliar streets of Kyoto to find shelter for the night.
The first place was closed up tight. I investigated, trying to see if one of the doors I spied from the road would grant me access. I set off a motion detector alarm, though, and made as smooth and natural exit from the scene as best I could. No one came to investigate, thank goodness. The next ryokan on my map was still open, but the clerks were no where to be found. It also seemed filled to the brim. Once again, I set out. I found a 7-11 on a nearby main street, and asked for help there, but they misinterpreted my map and directed me in the direction I'd just came from.
Nearing the end of my hope reserves, I walked aimlessly. Providence, it would seem, saw fit to smile on me, for not a block away from the 7-11 I found salvation.
A nice hotel, called the Apa Villa, was built into what looked to be an office building. Its lobby was brightly lit and hewn from beautiful stone and worked with metal. The interior was cool, a relief from the sweltering night-heat. I tottered in on tender legs and found the front desk staffed. I asked, expecting the answer no, if there were rooms available.
"For one?" the concierge asked.
"Yes," I answered.
"For tonight?" the man asked again.
"Yes," I answered.
Silence.
"Yes, we have a room," the man said.
I could have kissed him. For 10,000 yen, I would have my own room in a western-style hotel. Private shower, bath, with a bed and everything. Were I not so beaten I would have danced.
I checked in and proceeded to my room. I cranked the AC down and took a too-perfect shower to cool off and refresh myself. I killed the lights, set the alarm, and fell quite suddenly to sleep.
The hotel room was very interesting, but that will have to wait for tomorrow. I'm quite tired as of this writing, both from the day's activities (or lack thereof, as the case may be) and the retelling of this tale. In an odd example of psychosomatics, I find myself as tired as I was that night.
Up bright and early with the sun! Well, not that early. My sleep at the Internet Cafe was suitable, but the A.C. kept going in cycles. But other than that, it was okay. Brain and I had made plans for the day; he and I were to meet at 10AM in front of Akihabara station. I tried to purchase shower time, but there was some sort of problem. I think there was a line, and they weren't letting anyone else get in it. Or something.
So, showerless, I headed to Yodabashi Camera to meet Brain. I waited with the crowd to kill the time, informing Brain, via cell phone, of my desire to become clean before doing anything important. When he and I met up, we set about trying to find somewhere that could accommodate me. We walked a good 15 minutes before finding a hotel, but it didn't offer separate shower services. The concierge recommended we look for a hotel elsewhere, and gave us some directions. We hopped the train for one stop and managed to find, after a little more walking, a capsule hotel. Most capsule hotels offer bath and shower services to guests, but you have the option of just purchasing bath time. Brain waited in the lobby while I purchased 20 minutes of shower time.
The setup was really nice. It was, essentially, like a men's locker room in an American gym. Super-slim lockers held your stuff while you bathed, and you were provided with a robe and a towel. The were in and out of the locker room all the time, quite comfortable with their guests' various forms of undress. When in Rome, as they say. In all, it wasn't that embarrassing; I'd been naked in front of plenty of people in my life so far, and this was no different.
There was only one shower stall, but this was a Japanese-style bath. This means that, first, you scrub yourself with soap and shampoo your hair whilst sitting on a stool, rinsing yourself off with a shower hose, but not standing up. The stall is there for those who want a good hose off before soaking in one of several mega hot tubs, each sporting varying degrees of heated water.
I had both limited time and an intense need for cleanliness, so I just jumped right into the stall. There were only two other bathers, both quite engrossed in their stool-mounted cleaning cycles, so there wasn't a line. I enjoyed a nice, cool shower with lots of scrubbing. I exited quickly, refreshed and clean and eager to go out into Tokyo once more. I donned a fresh set of clothes from my duffel. I retrieved my shoes (which are confiscated upon checking in to a capsule hotel, as a security measure that you will not leave before check out) and Brain and I left.
I wanted to see the offices and studio of Gainax. I have long been a fan of their work, and knew that their offices were in the greater Tokyo metropolitan area. Brain had managed to find a map on their website and had plotted a route that would get us in the right neighborhood. We rode the trains for a few hours, almost to the end of the line. We got off at a somewhat desolate area, Brain directing our walking to the north. We walked through rural areas, past a few small gardens and a park, but we couldn't find Gainax's offices.
We looped back and forth several times, sure we were just missing something. Eventually we found the area's koban (Police Box. Super-useful and very polite, the policemen teams of two stationed here will bend over backwards to help you) and inquired as to the location of the city district we were looking for. The police officers informed us that the place we sought was, indeed, to the north, but we were one train stop too far to the south. Oops. Brain and I boarded the next north-bound train with all due speed.
At the next train stop we once again walked north. We passed more apartments and parking lots, until eventually we ran out of road. We looked around in despair, thinking that our map was wrong. Until I saw, in plain, blue letters that were hidden in plain sight, the word "Gainax". We had found it.
At the end of a small, country road, in the outskirts of rural Tokyo, at the far end of what was an abandoned train depot, stood a small, white building. It could have easily been the offices of some municipal branch, the Greater North Tokyo Bureau of Bicycle Repair, or something. But, no, within those simple white walls sat some of the most creative and original minds in Japanese animation the modern times have yet seen. It was a sublime moment.
Brain and I approached the building, wondering what lay within. We entered the first set of doors, electronic sliders that parted for us. We soon realized that their offices were closed for the weekend, however. The lights were dark and all the cardboard cutout displays were tucked away behind the second set of glass doors. These would not open for us, as they were locked by electronic key. We heard the distant sound of a vending machine dispensing a delicious, frosty beverage, but we saw no human habitation. Those few Gainax staff who were working were not aware of our presence.
Brain and I started back to the train station, only to see a Gainax employee returning to his weekend work day with a sack of conbini lunch in hand and a delivery guy making a package drop. As if in mockery of our inability to gain access to the inner sanctum of Gainax, they effortlessly went inside, to pursue activities obscure and unknown.
Not knowing what to do next, we decided to head back into Tokyo proper. We got off somewhere in the heart of Tokyo and, after walking around for a few minutes, we found a Yodabashi. Having yet visited one of the electronics megastores, I suggested we duck in. Brain complied, and we enjoyed some window shopping. We wound up on the toy/model floor and perused the various products. Plans for the rest of the day began to form.
Brain suggested that I travel to Kyoto that night, rather than spend more money in Tokyo's expensive sleeping establishments. I agreed, but stated that I'd need two things before I got underway: food and an ATM. Brain took me to a nice Indian restaurant (a food I'd never really tried until juuuust before I left, which I find I love). I had a delicious chicken curry with a huge piece of nan. Mmm....nan.
Brain surmised, and I agreed with his opinion, that the Shinkansen, the bullet train, would be the best way to get to Kyoto. We retrieved my duffel from Shibuya station, where it had been stored in a coin locker since the morning, after my shower, and we set out to find an ATM at near the Shinkansen station. Alas, the stars were not in alignment, and I couldn't get the damn thing to work.
We trudged back to the station, whence I purchased my ticket to Kyoto. Brain kindly lent me some cash, so that I would be able to pay for a hotel room for the night. Chalk it up to more generosity on his behalf that I must pay back in kind. We parted ways at the station, with a final request from me for him to look up hotel information online while I rode to Kyoto.
I boarded the Shinkansen after Brain and I separated, and settled in for a short nap. I was long-past the point of exhaustion, and was running on a sort of animal core logic. I knew that if I could just get to a comfortable place to sleep, that all would be well.
The Shinkansen is aptly named. It is super fast. Even though it was well into the night, which in Japan is made darker by the lack of light saturation, I could still tell we moved at titanic speeds. I nodded off several times through the ride, desperate for sleep but paranoid of missing my stop. After over 500 kilometers of rapid ground transit, my train arrived in Kyoto.
I stumbled out of the massive Kyoto train station into the night. Brain had had success at finding hotels near the station, and I set out to find them. I exited the station on the wrong end, and had to walk back through the whole thing to get to the correct side. I found the taxi area and requested to be taken to one of the hotels Brain had recommended. It wasn't that far from the station, but I was in a world of hurt.
I was delighted to find the concierge spoke excellent English. I was saddened, however, when, while using her excellent English, she informed me that there were no rooms. Their companion hotel, too, had no rooms to rent for the night. They gave me a map with a few ryokan, traditional Japanese inns, marked out, and I set out into the unfamiliar streets of Kyoto to find shelter for the night.
The first place was closed up tight. I investigated, trying to see if one of the doors I spied from the road would grant me access. I set off a motion detector alarm, though, and made as smooth and natural exit from the scene as best I could. No one came to investigate, thank goodness. The next ryokan on my map was still open, but the clerks were no where to be found. It also seemed filled to the brim. Once again, I set out. I found a 7-11 on a nearby main street, and asked for help there, but they misinterpreted my map and directed me in the direction I'd just came from.
Nearing the end of my hope reserves, I walked aimlessly. Providence, it would seem, saw fit to smile on me, for not a block away from the 7-11 I found salvation.
A nice hotel, called the Apa Villa, was built into what looked to be an office building. Its lobby was brightly lit and hewn from beautiful stone and worked with metal. The interior was cool, a relief from the sweltering night-heat. I tottered in on tender legs and found the front desk staffed. I asked, expecting the answer no, if there were rooms available.
"For one?" the concierge asked.
"Yes," I answered.
"For tonight?" the man asked again.
"Yes," I answered.
Silence.
"Yes, we have a room," the man said.
I could have kissed him. For 10,000 yen, I would have my own room in a western-style hotel. Private shower, bath, with a bed and everything. Were I not so beaten I would have danced.
I checked in and proceeded to my room. I cranked the AC down and took a too-perfect shower to cool off and refresh myself. I killed the lights, set the alarm, and fell quite suddenly to sleep.
The hotel room was very interesting, but that will have to wait for tomorrow. I'm quite tired as of this writing, both from the day's activities (or lack thereof, as the case may be) and the retelling of this tale. In an odd example of psychosomatics, I find myself as tired as I was that night.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Can't sleep....clown will eat me.
J82 Thursday, July 5th 2007
Happy 4th of July to the other side of the world! For me, the 4th was yesterday. No celebrations were had here, but in my heart I thanked America for being so awesome, even if the current state of affairs is a bit mucky. I also wore my blue shirt and a red tie, so I was 2/3 patriotic.
Yet another fun-filled weekend was had last weekend. I'm getting closer to actually making more than one post a week. It's tricky to get into the habit of writing every day.
Saturday the 30th (of June)
G-Bros was hosting a private party, so the Gang had no where to go! Well, that's not true at all. Hitachi is crammed full of bars, you just need to know where to look. K found a nice place called The Second Earth. It had a little of everything. The front of the store was like a party-themed conbini, with drinks and snacks and widgets available for purchase before or after one came to the bar. The bar was nice, a solid thing of blonde pine, but the Gang opted to settle in one of the tables squeezed in the back.
As an aside, if you ever decide to come to Japan, realize that you will devote a lot of your brain power to wondering how they managed to do things. How did they move that huge table into this tiny space? Those decorations, are they purposefully set there, or have they accumulated by some bar-logic of kitch-growth?
Ahem. The Gang had already ordered food by the time I got in, but I had made dinner for myself before I left, so it was all good. We all had milkshakes, not wanting to get too blitzed before the night truly began at Bros. I had a berry blend, after sampling some of Claire's (Scottish girl) which was heavenly.
We stayed at Second Earth for a few hours, talking about this and that. My bike's rear tire had deflated (and still is, as of this writing, flat) due to a technical mixup I had with a recently-acquired bike pump. That conversation was fun. I can't recall much else of what we talked about. The upcoming trip to Tokyo, for Clive's birthday, was discussed briefly.
Around 11:30 or so we relocated to G-Bros. On the way out, while we settled our tab, one of the Gang, Matt, bought a truly ridiculously massive jar of peanut butter, citing the lack of said ridiculous size anywhere else in Japan, and his love for the stuff. Go Matt.
We got a back table at Bros and the preliminary birthday celebrations were had. Actually, if I recall, the Clive and (Amity) Mike both had their birthdays on Saturday, with the Tokyo trip being a post-birthday bash of extraordinary magnitude. Cake was had, the G-Bros tradition of having a champaign cork shot at your backside was carried out in good humor, and a good time was had by all.
I was introduced to Toni, another Amity teacher. She and I quickly entered Geek Out mode and spent the next two hours communicating at near-light speed about a wide variety of topics. Always delighted to make a new geeky friend, we called the evening quits around the same time and walked each other home, until we had to go our separate ways, chatting all the time.
Back at home, I settled into sleep, eager to start the next day's journeys.
Sunday July 1st
Made myself some breakfast after a leisurely wake up and walked to the train. Clive caught up with me on the way in, and we realized we were cutting it a little close. As we neared the station, K phoned us and informed us of the impending departure of our train. We dashed with renewed vigor, myself being unable to hit the ATM on the way out of Hitachi, and managed to get to the platform on time.
The ride down was fairly sedate and uneventful. Fun conversation was had, about not much at all (mostly catching one another up on world events, rumor, and discussion). Myself, K, M-sensei, and Clive were the passengers on this, the first wave of the Gang down to Tokyo.
We decided to spend our pre-party hours in Akihabara, nerd-mecca of the Earth. This marked my 5th time in the district where anything, and I do mean anything, devoted to Nerdism may be bought, sold, traded, or stolen. I add stolen merely to bring awareness of the plight of the modern Akihabara-goer, who is plagued by many the cutpurse, sneakthief, or otherwise dastardly and uncouth rogue keen to lighten the shopping bags of the unsuspecting otaku.
The first order of business was food, as many of us had grown peckish on the ride down. The attempt to locate a suitable food joint was to prove somewhat frustrating, given the sheer diversity of our group (a midwesterner, a westerner/southerner, a south-Londer and a manchesterman) gave us all different appetites. After a solid half hour of wandering (past a large number of places that smelled superbly delicious) we settled on a kebab stand in what felt like the heart of Akihabara.
It was heaven. Delicious, juicy steak bits atop rice. The other fellows had a larger set, with half a chicken in addition to their rice/meat combo. We savored our delicious, protein-filled lunches. Three of us got items to go, and proceeded to investigate the shopping district for various and sundry purchases. M-sensei was in search of an MP3 player. Clive was looking for PSP media. K sought an adapter cable for a hard drive and a DS.
We walked up and down the strip, aided in our ambulations (ahh, alliteration) by the fact that most of the roads had been closed to road traffic, allowing pedestrians to cross at their leisure. After a few shops, I guided the group to the Yellow Submarine shop I'd found my last time here, with E.J. We met another group of Psi Us, against all probability, who included in our quick dialog directions to a tabletop gaming store. We had been there before, and had marveled at the row upon row of RPG books, in Japanese and (to our amazement) English.
This time around it was the other's turn to gawk at the tiny dollop of gaming squeezed into a space slightly larger than my apartment. I perused the English book section and found that they had a copy of the Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Master's Guide for Edition 3.5. It's price was a steal; only 2,500 yen. Converted to US Dollars, that is slightly over $20. After a short period of consideration, I snapped it up, realizing that a) I had no paper copies of *any* D&D books here, b) I don't even have the 3.5 DMG in America, and c) it was stupid cheap.
My backpack aglow with creative power and my new purchase, we strove ahead to Yodabashi Camera, stopping briefly to take in an adult novelty shop that was 4 stories high (that will be a tale to tell in person, as this is a family-friendly blog). Yodabashi Camera is, quite possibly, the biggest electronics store in the world. It's footprint is massive, easily several acres, and it's 7 or 8 stories tall. Huge.
We all came in, but after seeing the lines M-sensei and Clive decided to head outside to relax while K and I searched for his purchases. In the end, after lots of wandering and questioning and waiting in lines, we emerged victorious. K purchased a pink DS Lite and the perfect adapter cable (Serial ATA to something) for his system.
And then, we decided to go to Hiro-o, the location of the evening's main attraction; the Tokyo Absolut Ice Bar.
The Absolut Ice Bar is a bar, wherein one can purchase and enjoy adult beverages, that is made of ice. It is run by the makers of Absolut vodka. Shockingly, the adult beverages you enjoy at the Absolut Ice Bar are only those made by Absolut. Everything is ice; the walls, the furniture, the bar, even your glass, is made of clear ice. It is Flipping Sweet. Also, very cold. The whole place is kept at a toasty 5 degrees below zero, give or take, so long-term exposure is not advised. The bar staff provides you with a super-awesome space blanket poncho, complete with thick gloves and fur-lined hood, to keep you from dying of exposure. You enter the bar via a small airlock, really just a closet-sized room with two doors, so as to minimize heat bleeding.
As I said before, you can't spend too long in the ice bar, or else your body starts to become too cold. More immediately (to the hip, globe-trotting jetsetter mindset) is the limited amount of space within the bar itself. The constant refrigeration cost must be staggering, and thus the bar itself is quite small, perhaps twice the size of my apartment in square footage. This all boils down to two simple facts. One, you must have a reservation for the Ice Bar, 45 minutes max. Two, it's quite expensive. 3,500 yen gets you in the door and gives you one drink (and one ice-glass. If yours breaks or melts, you have to buy a new one to drink any more). Additional drinks are at a whopping 1,200 yen a pop, easily double the price of a beer at a normal bar.
Enough technicalities! We had a blast! My initial group arrived first, and spent a few minutes outside waiting for the rest of our group to show up. As our time window opened, we decided to go on in and wait for them inside. We paid the staff, slipped into our silvery ponchos, and headed into a frozen wonderland.
The ice is very clear. I'm not sure how one makes ice this clear, but there's no mistaking the clarity. There's a few cracks, some air bubbles and other signs of impurities, sure, but you can see through all of the ice. Really pretty. The bar was lit with soft white and blue lights diffused and filtered through the walls of ice, casting a soft, almost twilight glow through the small room. It was quiet, too; there was club music, but it was kept at a low level. The tables and chairs are all low to the ground, mostly to help with structural integrity I suppose, but there was a human-sized ice sculpture in the middle of the room to enjoy. Built into the walls were several modular ice sheets that had been engraved from the other side. What one sees, looking at these ice sheets from the bar side, is a reverse bas-relief. In ice. Quite beautiful. The sculptors included an ice-plaque, declaring that they also were responsible for one of the Ice Hotels. (Imagine the ice bar mentality enlarged, as if by a mad genius, into a hotel. Where you can sleep.)
The other half of our party arrived a few minutes after we did, and we proceeded to get down with our bad selves. Drinks were had, myself enjoying an Absolut Viking (Absolut vodka with grape juice...mmmm) and an Absolut Polaris (can't remember what was in it, but it went from yellow to blue and tasted like bananas and cream).
Many, many pictures were taken, and many jokes about the cold were told. One of the walls was carved into a mini luge for one's ice glasses, so the occasional brave soul would sling their drink through the wall via a winding downward slope. The glasses would become stuck, from time to time, much to the despair of the luge-ee and the amusement of the audience.
I met a couple in the bar, one of the few patrons not associated with our own birthday celebration. I cannot recall where they were from beyond "Tokyo", but they apparently were sharing their second date together. The male of the duo assured me, in a conspiratorial whisper, that they would enjoy certain adult activities later in the night. Hilarity.
As our time at the Ice Bar drew to a close we found ourselves the only patrons therein. The staff let us stay a little longer, to our simultaneous joy and frigidity. After an hour of freezing cold, we doffed our ponchos and wandered into the heat of a Tokyo summer night. Feeling the difference between the bar and the heat and humidity of the outside world was like being hit by a car made of swamp water. Warm and sticky and thick heat wrapped around us. It was quite a sensation.
It was now Monday.
Monday July 2nd
Our group wandered toward Roppongi Hills, the section of Tokyo where one may find a traditional "night club" scene. Never having attended such places in the States, it was a new experience for me (albeit not one I relished). We walked through and past a new tower, freshly constructed in the heart of Tokyo. It had some interesting neo-Egyptian architecture. Looked like something out of a movie.
Finally, we made it to Roppongi. For those of you who enjoy the night club scene, the next segment may hold particular mirth, given my utter inexperience with such activities. Keep in mind that I have, quite literally, never done this sort of thing before.
We walked along a strip of neon-daylight, propositioned at every street corner by handfuls of club barkers. This club was the best, no that one. This one has food, while this one has girls. The others of our group seemed giddy with choice. I simply saw an endless row of bars wherein there was space to dance. We finally settled on one, called "Club 911". At least the music was nice. We all proceeded to drink and dance, as conversation was impossible given the intense volume of the dance jams. I was flagging, my second wind having come and gone, and entered a sort of fugue state of existence. I recall dancing a few times, to the best of my ability, and enjoying a few (slightly cheaper, but not by much) drinks from the bar.
Several hours passed in this manner, until about 4ish in the morning. We quit the club, and after much hemming and hawing, the group split. My chunk was heading home, whilst the others were heading out to find more clubs and take in the fish market. I would have liked to see the fish market myself, but I was feeling pretty crappy, and I didn't want to do much more than sleep.
What followed was a blur of subway stops as we caught the first trains of the day. We worked our way through the Tokyo Underground, our group shedding numbers as others decided to do their own things while in Tokyo. K and myself were the last of our original "going the hell home now" group left when we finally got to Ueno, gateway station to Hitachi and all points northward.
K and I found a Limited Express train and settled into some booth seats to sleep the way home. Our train departed, and we began our long journey home. We slept and woke intermittently, our bodies demanding sleep but unable to relax completely. I kept waking up at just the right times; when some business men decided to share our booth, when we had to switch trains halfway through our ride, when we finally arrived at Hitachi. Hours after we'd left Ueno, almost a day after we'd set out from Hitachi, K and I made it back home.
K rode his bike home, whilst I caught a cab. I grabbed a quick shower to rinse the club gunk from my body, and collapsed into bed. It was not yet 9 A.M. I slept until 5 P.M. I began to write this blog post, but given the sheer volume of information it contains, it was written over the space of three separate sessions, stretched out over the course of a week's time.
And that is my adventure from last weekend, gentle reader. From June to July, it was a birthday celebration of epic, and quite chilly, proportions.
I shall write the next entry now, for this weekend. Huzzah!
Happy 4th of July to the other side of the world! For me, the 4th was yesterday. No celebrations were had here, but in my heart I thanked America for being so awesome, even if the current state of affairs is a bit mucky. I also wore my blue shirt and a red tie, so I was 2/3 patriotic.
Yet another fun-filled weekend was had last weekend. I'm getting closer to actually making more than one post a week. It's tricky to get into the habit of writing every day.
Saturday the 30th (of June)
G-Bros was hosting a private party, so the Gang had no where to go! Well, that's not true at all. Hitachi is crammed full of bars, you just need to know where to look. K found a nice place called The Second Earth. It had a little of everything. The front of the store was like a party-themed conbini, with drinks and snacks and widgets available for purchase before or after one came to the bar. The bar was nice, a solid thing of blonde pine, but the Gang opted to settle in one of the tables squeezed in the back.
As an aside, if you ever decide to come to Japan, realize that you will devote a lot of your brain power to wondering how they managed to do things. How did they move that huge table into this tiny space? Those decorations, are they purposefully set there, or have they accumulated by some bar-logic of kitch-growth?
Ahem. The Gang had already ordered food by the time I got in, but I had made dinner for myself before I left, so it was all good. We all had milkshakes, not wanting to get too blitzed before the night truly began at Bros. I had a berry blend, after sampling some of Claire's (Scottish girl) which was heavenly.
We stayed at Second Earth for a few hours, talking about this and that. My bike's rear tire had deflated (and still is, as of this writing, flat) due to a technical mixup I had with a recently-acquired bike pump. That conversation was fun. I can't recall much else of what we talked about. The upcoming trip to Tokyo, for Clive's birthday, was discussed briefly.
Around 11:30 or so we relocated to G-Bros. On the way out, while we settled our tab, one of the Gang, Matt, bought a truly ridiculously massive jar of peanut butter, citing the lack of said ridiculous size anywhere else in Japan, and his love for the stuff. Go Matt.
We got a back table at Bros and the preliminary birthday celebrations were had. Actually, if I recall, the Clive and (Amity) Mike both had their birthdays on Saturday, with the Tokyo trip being a post-birthday bash of extraordinary magnitude. Cake was had, the G-Bros tradition of having a champaign cork shot at your backside was carried out in good humor, and a good time was had by all.
I was introduced to Toni, another Amity teacher. She and I quickly entered Geek Out mode and spent the next two hours communicating at near-light speed about a wide variety of topics. Always delighted to make a new geeky friend, we called the evening quits around the same time and walked each other home, until we had to go our separate ways, chatting all the time.
Back at home, I settled into sleep, eager to start the next day's journeys.
Sunday July 1st
Made myself some breakfast after a leisurely wake up and walked to the train. Clive caught up with me on the way in, and we realized we were cutting it a little close. As we neared the station, K phoned us and informed us of the impending departure of our train. We dashed with renewed vigor, myself being unable to hit the ATM on the way out of Hitachi, and managed to get to the platform on time.
The ride down was fairly sedate and uneventful. Fun conversation was had, about not much at all (mostly catching one another up on world events, rumor, and discussion). Myself, K, M-sensei, and Clive were the passengers on this, the first wave of the Gang down to Tokyo.
We decided to spend our pre-party hours in Akihabara, nerd-mecca of the Earth. This marked my 5th time in the district where anything, and I do mean anything, devoted to Nerdism may be bought, sold, traded, or stolen. I add stolen merely to bring awareness of the plight of the modern Akihabara-goer, who is plagued by many the cutpurse, sneakthief, or otherwise dastardly and uncouth rogue keen to lighten the shopping bags of the unsuspecting otaku.
The first order of business was food, as many of us had grown peckish on the ride down. The attempt to locate a suitable food joint was to prove somewhat frustrating, given the sheer diversity of our group (a midwesterner, a westerner/southerner, a south-Londer and a manchesterman) gave us all different appetites. After a solid half hour of wandering (past a large number of places that smelled superbly delicious) we settled on a kebab stand in what felt like the heart of Akihabara.
It was heaven. Delicious, juicy steak bits atop rice. The other fellows had a larger set, with half a chicken in addition to their rice/meat combo. We savored our delicious, protein-filled lunches. Three of us got items to go, and proceeded to investigate the shopping district for various and sundry purchases. M-sensei was in search of an MP3 player. Clive was looking for PSP media. K sought an adapter cable for a hard drive and a DS.
We walked up and down the strip, aided in our ambulations (ahh, alliteration) by the fact that most of the roads had been closed to road traffic, allowing pedestrians to cross at their leisure. After a few shops, I guided the group to the Yellow Submarine shop I'd found my last time here, with E.J. We met another group of Psi Us, against all probability, who included in our quick dialog directions to a tabletop gaming store. We had been there before, and had marveled at the row upon row of RPG books, in Japanese and (to our amazement) English.
This time around it was the other's turn to gawk at the tiny dollop of gaming squeezed into a space slightly larger than my apartment. I perused the English book section and found that they had a copy of the Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Master's Guide for Edition 3.5. It's price was a steal; only 2,500 yen. Converted to US Dollars, that is slightly over $20. After a short period of consideration, I snapped it up, realizing that a) I had no paper copies of *any* D&D books here, b) I don't even have the 3.5 DMG in America, and c) it was stupid cheap.
My backpack aglow with creative power and my new purchase, we strove ahead to Yodabashi Camera, stopping briefly to take in an adult novelty shop that was 4 stories high (that will be a tale to tell in person, as this is a family-friendly blog). Yodabashi Camera is, quite possibly, the biggest electronics store in the world. It's footprint is massive, easily several acres, and it's 7 or 8 stories tall. Huge.
We all came in, but after seeing the lines M-sensei and Clive decided to head outside to relax while K and I searched for his purchases. In the end, after lots of wandering and questioning and waiting in lines, we emerged victorious. K purchased a pink DS Lite and the perfect adapter cable (Serial ATA to something) for his system.
And then, we decided to go to Hiro-o, the location of the evening's main attraction; the Tokyo Absolut Ice Bar.
The Absolut Ice Bar is a bar, wherein one can purchase and enjoy adult beverages, that is made of ice. It is run by the makers of Absolut vodka. Shockingly, the adult beverages you enjoy at the Absolut Ice Bar are only those made by Absolut. Everything is ice; the walls, the furniture, the bar, even your glass, is made of clear ice. It is Flipping Sweet. Also, very cold. The whole place is kept at a toasty 5 degrees below zero, give or take, so long-term exposure is not advised. The bar staff provides you with a super-awesome space blanket poncho, complete with thick gloves and fur-lined hood, to keep you from dying of exposure. You enter the bar via a small airlock, really just a closet-sized room with two doors, so as to minimize heat bleeding.
As I said before, you can't spend too long in the ice bar, or else your body starts to become too cold. More immediately (to the hip, globe-trotting jetsetter mindset) is the limited amount of space within the bar itself. The constant refrigeration cost must be staggering, and thus the bar itself is quite small, perhaps twice the size of my apartment in square footage. This all boils down to two simple facts. One, you must have a reservation for the Ice Bar, 45 minutes max. Two, it's quite expensive. 3,500 yen gets you in the door and gives you one drink (and one ice-glass. If yours breaks or melts, you have to buy a new one to drink any more). Additional drinks are at a whopping 1,200 yen a pop, easily double the price of a beer at a normal bar.
Enough technicalities! We had a blast! My initial group arrived first, and spent a few minutes outside waiting for the rest of our group to show up. As our time window opened, we decided to go on in and wait for them inside. We paid the staff, slipped into our silvery ponchos, and headed into a frozen wonderland.
The ice is very clear. I'm not sure how one makes ice this clear, but there's no mistaking the clarity. There's a few cracks, some air bubbles and other signs of impurities, sure, but you can see through all of the ice. Really pretty. The bar was lit with soft white and blue lights diffused and filtered through the walls of ice, casting a soft, almost twilight glow through the small room. It was quiet, too; there was club music, but it was kept at a low level. The tables and chairs are all low to the ground, mostly to help with structural integrity I suppose, but there was a human-sized ice sculpture in the middle of the room to enjoy. Built into the walls were several modular ice sheets that had been engraved from the other side. What one sees, looking at these ice sheets from the bar side, is a reverse bas-relief. In ice. Quite beautiful. The sculptors included an ice-plaque, declaring that they also were responsible for one of the Ice Hotels. (Imagine the ice bar mentality enlarged, as if by a mad genius, into a hotel. Where you can sleep.)
The other half of our party arrived a few minutes after we did, and we proceeded to get down with our bad selves. Drinks were had, myself enjoying an Absolut Viking (Absolut vodka with grape juice...mmmm) and an Absolut Polaris (can't remember what was in it, but it went from yellow to blue and tasted like bananas and cream).
Many, many pictures were taken, and many jokes about the cold were told. One of the walls was carved into a mini luge for one's ice glasses, so the occasional brave soul would sling their drink through the wall via a winding downward slope. The glasses would become stuck, from time to time, much to the despair of the luge-ee and the amusement of the audience.
I met a couple in the bar, one of the few patrons not associated with our own birthday celebration. I cannot recall where they were from beyond "Tokyo", but they apparently were sharing their second date together. The male of the duo assured me, in a conspiratorial whisper, that they would enjoy certain adult activities later in the night. Hilarity.
As our time at the Ice Bar drew to a close we found ourselves the only patrons therein. The staff let us stay a little longer, to our simultaneous joy and frigidity. After an hour of freezing cold, we doffed our ponchos and wandered into the heat of a Tokyo summer night. Feeling the difference between the bar and the heat and humidity of the outside world was like being hit by a car made of swamp water. Warm and sticky and thick heat wrapped around us. It was quite a sensation.
It was now Monday.
Monday July 2nd
Our group wandered toward Roppongi Hills, the section of Tokyo where one may find a traditional "night club" scene. Never having attended such places in the States, it was a new experience for me (albeit not one I relished). We walked through and past a new tower, freshly constructed in the heart of Tokyo. It had some interesting neo-Egyptian architecture. Looked like something out of a movie.
Finally, we made it to Roppongi. For those of you who enjoy the night club scene, the next segment may hold particular mirth, given my utter inexperience with such activities. Keep in mind that I have, quite literally, never done this sort of thing before.
We walked along a strip of neon-daylight, propositioned at every street corner by handfuls of club barkers. This club was the best, no that one. This one has food, while this one has girls. The others of our group seemed giddy with choice. I simply saw an endless row of bars wherein there was space to dance. We finally settled on one, called "Club 911". At least the music was nice. We all proceeded to drink and dance, as conversation was impossible given the intense volume of the dance jams. I was flagging, my second wind having come and gone, and entered a sort of fugue state of existence. I recall dancing a few times, to the best of my ability, and enjoying a few (slightly cheaper, but not by much) drinks from the bar.
Several hours passed in this manner, until about 4ish in the morning. We quit the club, and after much hemming and hawing, the group split. My chunk was heading home, whilst the others were heading out to find more clubs and take in the fish market. I would have liked to see the fish market myself, but I was feeling pretty crappy, and I didn't want to do much more than sleep.
What followed was a blur of subway stops as we caught the first trains of the day. We worked our way through the Tokyo Underground, our group shedding numbers as others decided to do their own things while in Tokyo. K and myself were the last of our original "going the hell home now" group left when we finally got to Ueno, gateway station to Hitachi and all points northward.
K and I found a Limited Express train and settled into some booth seats to sleep the way home. Our train departed, and we began our long journey home. We slept and woke intermittently, our bodies demanding sleep but unable to relax completely. I kept waking up at just the right times; when some business men decided to share our booth, when we had to switch trains halfway through our ride, when we finally arrived at Hitachi. Hours after we'd left Ueno, almost a day after we'd set out from Hitachi, K and I made it back home.
K rode his bike home, whilst I caught a cab. I grabbed a quick shower to rinse the club gunk from my body, and collapsed into bed. It was not yet 9 A.M. I slept until 5 P.M. I began to write this blog post, but given the sheer volume of information it contains, it was written over the space of three separate sessions, stretched out over the course of a week's time.
And that is my adventure from last weekend, gentle reader. From June to July, it was a birthday celebration of epic, and quite chilly, proportions.
I shall write the next entry now, for this weekend. Huzzah!
Monday, May 21, 2007
Aaaaaand....he's gone
J70 Tuesday, May 22nd 2007
Damn. Just when I was getting used to having E.J. around, he up and leaves :)
My brother is now on a bus trundling its way south. By now he is probably past Mito. In 30 or 40 minutes, he'll probably see my favorite site in all of Japan; a massive range of mountains that juts up from the rocky flatland like a wall of green stone. These mountains are both huge and close to the roads and rails. They rear up like ponderous giants, and it is these mountains that finally make me understand the anthropomorphisms so commonly attributed to the bones of the world; patience, wisdom, and a sense of life far beyond mortal reckoning.
But, those are the mountains. This post is about E.J. He came two Fridays ago to Hitachi, taking a flight route similar to the one that brought me here. He then took a bus from the airport in Narita to Hitachi, where I met him after work. I walked him home, and we both crashed. The next day was Saturday, the busiest day of my week, and I had to leave him at the apartment with my keys.
I will edit this post with further information about our adventures and times in Japan together, but I have to get ready for work now. I think I will try to post both in the evenings and in the mornings, given the large gulfs of time available to me in the former. Or is it the latter? I can never keep those straight. I have lots of time in the mornings.
E.J. and I lived in the same house for most of our lives. When I left for college, he was always close by. I even moved back home for a year, and lived with he and my mom while I went to school. After graduating, I would still see him usually at least once a week. I didn't realize how much I had missed his presence in my life until he came here.
I got the bus driver to take a picture of us just before he got on.
This is me trying very hard not to cry.
Damn. Just when I was getting used to having E.J. around, he up and leaves :)
My brother is now on a bus trundling its way south. By now he is probably past Mito. In 30 or 40 minutes, he'll probably see my favorite site in all of Japan; a massive range of mountains that juts up from the rocky flatland like a wall of green stone. These mountains are both huge and close to the roads and rails. They rear up like ponderous giants, and it is these mountains that finally make me understand the anthropomorphisms so commonly attributed to the bones of the world; patience, wisdom, and a sense of life far beyond mortal reckoning.
But, those are the mountains. This post is about E.J. He came two Fridays ago to Hitachi, taking a flight route similar to the one that brought me here. He then took a bus from the airport in Narita to Hitachi, where I met him after work. I walked him home, and we both crashed. The next day was Saturday, the busiest day of my week, and I had to leave him at the apartment with my keys.
I will edit this post with further information about our adventures and times in Japan together, but I have to get ready for work now. I think I will try to post both in the evenings and in the mornings, given the large gulfs of time available to me in the former. Or is it the latter? I can never keep those straight. I have lots of time in the mornings.
E.J. and I lived in the same house for most of our lives. When I left for college, he was always close by. I even moved back home for a year, and lived with he and my mom while I went to school. After graduating, I would still see him usually at least once a week. I didn't realize how much I had missed his presence in my life until he came here.
I got the bus driver to take a picture of us just before he got on.
This is me trying very hard not to cry.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
It begins in an airport, but then again what doesn't?
J57 Wednesday, May 9th 2007
Slowly getting back into the swing of things. Golden Week was last week, a blissful 9 days of no work and holiday, enjoying the laziness of the long Japanese day.
Today was not one of those days. It started off warm, the breeze generated by my bike ride to work barely kept me cook beneath my suit as I zipped down the hill to my school. It got hotter as I climbed the stairs; I could feel the temperature gradient.
Work was OK, though. A little hectic, but what else is new? At lunch I saw my first rude Japanese person. A woman in Lawson's, in front of me in the checkout line. Wearing a grey miniskirt suit that was just a bit too small for her. She yelled, loud, for the cashier to hurry up, for the people in front of her to move it. When she got to the counter she spent a solid 2 minutes looking for exact change, finally settling on an evenly-spread tray full of silver coins. Once the cashier finished getting her change, the woman again yelled, this time demanding her purchase be put into a bag. The cashier, serene as an Aes Sedai, complied.
The rude woman turned on her heel to storm out, making eye contact with me. I looked back, neutral. (I've been told by the Japanese staff that my neutral face is in fact, a terrifying visage of anger and hate to the Japanese eye. I am instructed to smile at all times, lest I frighten students. The preceeding two statements are in no way lies or elaborations on the truth) She glowers at me, but I feel my Gaijin Field deflect the daggers harmlessly. As she stomps her way to the exit she tries to lock eyes again, but I merely direct my attention to the cashier. I have begun to perfect the Japanese detachment trance.
The rest of the day was without incident. A meeting was held after work to discuss some new materials. I'm at home now, writing what will be the first of many posts to this blog. Yay! I like the split format idea; as JD commented earlier it will allow me to catch up while still keeping everyone up to date. In a way, it's like writing a 2.5 month-long flashback. Some of the things you just read probably didn't make sense, but that's okay. All will become clear, gentle reader.
EJ is coming to Japan soon. He'll be flying out in about 36 hours, give or take. I need to get to sleep.
--------------------------------------------------
[Original day written: Thursday, February 22nd 2007 at Unknown Time]
J1.0
I'm ready. I am not ready. I've spent the last two weeks packing and saying goodbye, but I've been preparing for this for a lot longer. I'm in Detroit now, having said goodbye to Ann and EJ and Mom at Hartsfield a little less than 3 hours ago. I miss them already.
The terminal here in Detroit is actually nice. I should have called Sabrina, maybe she could have dropped by. But, then again, she couldn't get in to this part of the airport, and there's no way I'm leaving the terminal just before I get on an international flight. Security would shove dogs into my butt and call it freedom. The tram for this section of terminal runs through the damn thing, with only a solid 20 feet of vertical space separating the tracks from pedestrians; no guard rails or anything. It's a very different sight, almost like something out of a painting.
The tunnel from my exit terminal from Atlanta to my current resting place was this freaky multi-colored mushroom tunnel. Took a few shots, but I don't know how they'll turn out.
Waiting now. Don't want to use any gizmos or anything; must conserve battery power at all costs.
J1.1
This plane is frigging huge. It's a double-decker monster, easily the biggest plane I have ever been on. And there are so many people; it's like that scene in Titanic where everyone gets up to wave goodbye. Ten seats to a row, broken up into three sub-rows (a column 3 seats thick on either side of the plane and a middle column of 4 seats). I'm surrounded by so many ethnicities and ages. I swim in a sea of language and sensation; smells and tastes from a half-dozen cultures pepper the air and children whisper in their mother tongues, equally diverse. I settle down into my seat, next to two Chinese girls. They look to be members of the same school, or athletic team. I can't tell which. After a few minutes they scamper off to sit with the rest of their group, granting me a blissful measure of space next to me. Now all I can do is wait...again.
J1.2
A quarter of the way into the flight I break out my pre-training study materials. I was supposed to read them months ago. Hooray procrastination! Let's see...standard stuff.....oooo.....they want me to be good at grammar. Suck. I know enough as the next guy, maybe a little more, but ask me for a technical explanation and I'm not much use. Still, no worries; I can wing it. I get little waves of panic and homesickness as I read, seeing in black ink on white and blue paper how my life has been mapped out for the next year. I'm not going to be watched at every move, but my company will, essentially, own me. My contract prohibits me from posting the details, but it's rather impressive.
J1.3
They keep us well watered and fed, thank God. My shoulder is killing me. I keep trying to stretch it out, but no use. I try to sleep, manage to nod off for a little while, but I've never had much success sleeping during mass transit rides.
J1.4
Touchdown in Japan! The last leg of the journey seemed to get exponentially longer, but we finally got here. About time. It's raining outside, and there's this....feeling in the air. I'm not in America anymore. I follow the flow of people out through customs, get stamped and processed quickly, and manage to get my luggage. For the record, I'm coming here with:
My NERV duffel bag, full of clothes, electronic accessories (chargers, etc), books, and toiletries
My big honking suitcase, full of suits and clothes and toiletries
My laptop case, filled with my laptop.
A big frigging cardboard box that contains the last of my clothes.
I pile it all onto a cart and make my way past the final security dude into the main body of Tokyo-Narita International Airport. I have truly arrived at Japan. After a few minutes I am flagged down by a staff member of my company, who directs me to a small waiting area where a few of my other trainees are waiting. They've all arrived in the past 6 hours or so. We chat. One is from Hawaii, born in Brooklyn. His accent is awesome. The other is from L.A. and S.F. The third is from Vancouver. The fifth member of our group is already at the training house, having been here for a few months already.
I transfer a few clothes, mostly a complete suit and a few toiletries, to my duffel, as only it and my laptop case will be coming with me. The suitcase and box will be shipped from the airport to my school, who will hold it 'till I get there in about 9 days. I find a few spare seconds to buy a phone card and call home, letting Mom know that I'm alive and okay and getting ready to go to the seminar house. It's the last time I'll talk to anyone from home for nearly 3 weeks.
What follows is a whirlwind of train stations and exchanges. The staffer buys tickets, we all go through the turnstiles (wherein you must grab your ticket, lest you be unable to exit the turnstile of whatever station you get off at) and run for crowded trains. Japan has absorbed us effortlessly, despite our foreign origins. It has placidly opened its mouth and we have leaped in, being swallowed by the sleepless clockwork beast that is Tokyo.
We make our way out, past the suburbs. In a startlingly short amount of time we are surrounded by the countryside of Japan. For those of you who don't know, it is beautiful. Farmer's fields crisscrossed by rough grids of semipaved roads. Flatlands broken by bold, sudden hills and miniature mountains. Houses strapped together with old plywood and bamboo; crumbling edifices next to modern concrete and aluminum siding. No space is wasted, even out here. All things are used to their maximum effect. I marvel at massive windmills that stand at attention, marching across the plain I find myself flying through.
I hardly remember the journey. Talking about our lives back in America and Canada. Asking about what to expect or what to do. I get answers, but I don't quite know how to process them.
"How do I get on the Internet," I ask eagerly.
"Oh, it's easy," our handler says. "Just narfle the garthok."
He says something, something that almost sounds normal. A series of steps, a plan, but they are so convoluted and alien that I cannot make heads or tails. I write them down anyway, my simplified understanding of the true steps almost laughable.
Eventually, we arrive at our destination. Omika. The kanji are the characters for "Big Temple". We pile into taxi cabs (more on those later, I promise) and are whisked away. They take us to the seminar house, a simple 2-story building, white. Looks like it's tiled on the outside at first. They give us a tour. I cannot tell you how exhausted I am. I am beyond tired. My body is beyond ache. I just want to lay down. Even now, as I type this, I feel the phantom pain of cramps and muscles worked beyond their normal means.
Finally, finally, our handler lets us sleep. We've filled out a little paperwork, done some things that even then I couldn't remember. Finally, I deposit my bags in my room, crawl into bed, and let sleep crush the exhaustion from my bones.
Slowly getting back into the swing of things. Golden Week was last week, a blissful 9 days of no work and holiday, enjoying the laziness of the long Japanese day.
Today was not one of those days. It started off warm, the breeze generated by my bike ride to work barely kept me cook beneath my suit as I zipped down the hill to my school. It got hotter as I climbed the stairs; I could feel the temperature gradient.
Work was OK, though. A little hectic, but what else is new? At lunch I saw my first rude Japanese person. A woman in Lawson's, in front of me in the checkout line. Wearing a grey miniskirt suit that was just a bit too small for her. She yelled, loud, for the cashier to hurry up, for the people in front of her to move it. When she got to the counter she spent a solid 2 minutes looking for exact change, finally settling on an evenly-spread tray full of silver coins. Once the cashier finished getting her change, the woman again yelled, this time demanding her purchase be put into a bag. The cashier, serene as an Aes Sedai, complied.
The rude woman turned on her heel to storm out, making eye contact with me. I looked back, neutral. (I've been told by the Japanese staff that my neutral face is in fact, a terrifying visage of anger and hate to the Japanese eye. I am instructed to smile at all times, lest I frighten students. The preceeding two statements are in no way lies or elaborations on the truth) She glowers at me, but I feel my Gaijin Field deflect the daggers harmlessly. As she stomps her way to the exit she tries to lock eyes again, but I merely direct my attention to the cashier. I have begun to perfect the Japanese detachment trance.
The rest of the day was without incident. A meeting was held after work to discuss some new materials. I'm at home now, writing what will be the first of many posts to this blog. Yay! I like the split format idea; as JD commented earlier it will allow me to catch up while still keeping everyone up to date. In a way, it's like writing a 2.5 month-long flashback. Some of the things you just read probably didn't make sense, but that's okay. All will become clear, gentle reader.
EJ is coming to Japan soon. He'll be flying out in about 36 hours, give or take. I need to get to sleep.
--------------------------------------------------
[Original day written: Thursday, February 22nd 2007 at Unknown Time]
J1.0
I'm ready. I am not ready. I've spent the last two weeks packing and saying goodbye, but I've been preparing for this for a lot longer. I'm in Detroit now, having said goodbye to Ann and EJ and Mom at Hartsfield a little less than 3 hours ago. I miss them already.
The terminal here in Detroit is actually nice. I should have called Sabrina, maybe she could have dropped by. But, then again, she couldn't get in to this part of the airport, and there's no way I'm leaving the terminal just before I get on an international flight. Security would shove dogs into my butt and call it freedom. The tram for this section of terminal runs through the damn thing, with only a solid 20 feet of vertical space separating the tracks from pedestrians; no guard rails or anything. It's a very different sight, almost like something out of a painting.
The tunnel from my exit terminal from Atlanta to my current resting place was this freaky multi-colored mushroom tunnel. Took a few shots, but I don't know how they'll turn out.
Waiting now. Don't want to use any gizmos or anything; must conserve battery power at all costs.
J1.1
This plane is frigging huge. It's a double-decker monster, easily the biggest plane I have ever been on. And there are so many people; it's like that scene in Titanic where everyone gets up to wave goodbye. Ten seats to a row, broken up into three sub-rows (a column 3 seats thick on either side of the plane and a middle column of 4 seats). I'm surrounded by so many ethnicities and ages. I swim in a sea of language and sensation; smells and tastes from a half-dozen cultures pepper the air and children whisper in their mother tongues, equally diverse. I settle down into my seat, next to two Chinese girls. They look to be members of the same school, or athletic team. I can't tell which. After a few minutes they scamper off to sit with the rest of their group, granting me a blissful measure of space next to me. Now all I can do is wait...again.
J1.2
A quarter of the way into the flight I break out my pre-training study materials. I was supposed to read them months ago. Hooray procrastination! Let's see...standard stuff.....oooo.....they want me to be good at grammar. Suck. I know enough as the next guy, maybe a little more, but ask me for a technical explanation and I'm not much use. Still, no worries; I can wing it. I get little waves of panic and homesickness as I read, seeing in black ink on white and blue paper how my life has been mapped out for the next year. I'm not going to be watched at every move, but my company will, essentially, own me. My contract prohibits me from posting the details, but it's rather impressive.
J1.3
They keep us well watered and fed, thank God. My shoulder is killing me. I keep trying to stretch it out, but no use. I try to sleep, manage to nod off for a little while, but I've never had much success sleeping during mass transit rides.
J1.4
Touchdown in Japan! The last leg of the journey seemed to get exponentially longer, but we finally got here. About time. It's raining outside, and there's this....feeling in the air. I'm not in America anymore. I follow the flow of people out through customs, get stamped and processed quickly, and manage to get my luggage. For the record, I'm coming here with:
My NERV duffel bag, full of clothes, electronic accessories (chargers, etc), books, and toiletries
My big honking suitcase, full of suits and clothes and toiletries
My laptop case, filled with my laptop.
A big frigging cardboard box that contains the last of my clothes.
I pile it all onto a cart and make my way past the final security dude into the main body of Tokyo-Narita International Airport. I have truly arrived at Japan. After a few minutes I am flagged down by a staff member of my company, who directs me to a small waiting area where a few of my other trainees are waiting. They've all arrived in the past 6 hours or so. We chat. One is from Hawaii, born in Brooklyn. His accent is awesome. The other is from L.A. and S.F. The third is from Vancouver. The fifth member of our group is already at the training house, having been here for a few months already.
I transfer a few clothes, mostly a complete suit and a few toiletries, to my duffel, as only it and my laptop case will be coming with me. The suitcase and box will be shipped from the airport to my school, who will hold it 'till I get there in about 9 days. I find a few spare seconds to buy a phone card and call home, letting Mom know that I'm alive and okay and getting ready to go to the seminar house. It's the last time I'll talk to anyone from home for nearly 3 weeks.
What follows is a whirlwind of train stations and exchanges. The staffer buys tickets, we all go through the turnstiles (wherein you must grab your ticket, lest you be unable to exit the turnstile of whatever station you get off at) and run for crowded trains. Japan has absorbed us effortlessly, despite our foreign origins. It has placidly opened its mouth and we have leaped in, being swallowed by the sleepless clockwork beast that is Tokyo.
We make our way out, past the suburbs. In a startlingly short amount of time we are surrounded by the countryside of Japan. For those of you who don't know, it is beautiful. Farmer's fields crisscrossed by rough grids of semipaved roads. Flatlands broken by bold, sudden hills and miniature mountains. Houses strapped together with old plywood and bamboo; crumbling edifices next to modern concrete and aluminum siding. No space is wasted, even out here. All things are used to their maximum effect. I marvel at massive windmills that stand at attention, marching across the plain I find myself flying through.
I hardly remember the journey. Talking about our lives back in America and Canada. Asking about what to expect or what to do. I get answers, but I don't quite know how to process them.
"How do I get on the Internet," I ask eagerly.
"Oh, it's easy," our handler says. "Just narfle the garthok."
He says something, something that almost sounds normal. A series of steps, a plan, but they are so convoluted and alien that I cannot make heads or tails. I write them down anyway, my simplified understanding of the true steps almost laughable.
Eventually, we arrive at our destination. Omika. The kanji are the characters for "Big Temple". We pile into taxi cabs (more on those later, I promise) and are whisked away. They take us to the seminar house, a simple 2-story building, white. Looks like it's tiled on the outside at first. They give us a tour. I cannot tell you how exhausted I am. I am beyond tired. My body is beyond ache. I just want to lay down. Even now, as I type this, I feel the phantom pain of cramps and muscles worked beyond their normal means.
Finally, finally, our handler lets us sleep. We've filled out a little paperwork, done some things that even then I couldn't remember. Finally, I deposit my bags in my room, crawl into bed, and let sleep crush the exhaustion from my bones.
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