J113.1 Monday August 13th (again)
When last we left our intrepid explorer, he was about to enter the mysterious temple of Nishi Otani.
Through the gates was a wide plaza. I went into what looked like a visitor's center, which was packed, but quickly exited given that there was no information about what exactly this place was. It was different from a normal temple or shrine for two reasons: one, it had a lot more people in it than I'd ever seen, and two, it had modern buildings within the temple grounds. Japanese temples don't have modern architecture within their walls, for the most part, but Otani had two large, linked modern structures.
I went through a second set of gates to find myself facing a familiar style; that of the main temple. Two or three dozen people surrounded the temple's main entrance at any given time, though the crowd was constantly shifting. Some came and others left, but always there was a crowd. Heavy clouds of thick incense-smoke billowed from within the crowd, bringing an oddly soporific feeling to the temple grounds.
As I neared, I saw that people were engaged in a series of devotional activities. Some were lighting prayer candles in massive brass lanterns on either side of the temple's door. Others were lighting incense in a large wooden box situated beneath the temple's awning. Still more were leaving offerings of food, drink, trinkets and flowers on a series of wide tables that flanked the donation box. Still others were casting monetary offerings into the donation box. Everyone was praying, but whereas I'd seen Japanese people pray at temples before, I saw they were sporting a new accessory. They were using bracelets of prayer beads. They would be carried either in a bag or on the wrist, but when it came time to pray, they pressed their hands together in the standard Judeo-Christian method and put their joined hands through the loop of beads.
It was an interesting gesture; at once familiar and alien. The beads were many and varied, with each person sporting a different style.
I took a few pictures of the events, gave my own donation to the temple and prayed, bare-handed. I set off to explore more of the temple grounds. One large, traditional, Japanese building was undergoing repairs or renovations, and was off-limits to the public. Another, located at the far end of the temple plaza, was a building for Buddhist services. On the south side of the plaza was the entrance to the larger of the modern buildings, a twin structure linked by a broad causeway. I ventured forth and into one of the buildings, not knowing what lay within. I stepped into a modest but elegant decor. It was very cool and very quiet, with the occasional whispered word or clear chime of a bell or gong echoing down the many passages.
Elevators serviced what I could only assume were multiple floors, and I walked from the lobby into a carpeted section of person-height rows of shelves. It almost looked like a library, except the shelves had no books. Instead, they sported a series of gilded double doors. I saw a few families there, one of which had opened one set of the small brass doors, revealing what looked like a tiny shrine. Flowers and offerings of sake and food adorned the tiny shrines, and that's when I realized what this place was.
It was a mausoleum.
The remains of thousands of people lay quiet and still in tiny family shrines. Families came here to pay respects to deceased relatives, bringing children to pay respects for grandparents who never met them while they lived.
I was still for a moment, taking in the love that echoed through the years. This was a sacred place, and I could almost feel the familial pride emanating in gentle waves from the miniature tombs that surrounded me. Everywhere was cast in soft, brassy light, and despite the air conditioned interior, I felt a sense of comfort and tranquility.
I left the mausoleum and entered the causeway that linked the buildings with the information center. I tried to find a strand of prayer beads for my own, as there were several stands selling them within the temple grounds, but my hands were a bit too big for the ones I found.
When I entered the visitor's center again I saw a small souvenir shop stuffed into the building's back corner. Amongst the many things to purchase were more prayer beads, and I took my time to see if I could find any that fit. At last, I found one that seemed right. It was still a bit tight, but not prohibitively so. It was also affordable, which is always a nice bonus!
I left the temple via the garden again, this time walking a shaded path that put me back on the street near where I'd met the old man and his family. I consulted my map and determined my location to be near the next place I'd wanted to investigate: Kyomizu Temple.
I followed the crowds once again, up a long and steep hill, not knowing what I would find at the top.
Next time, faithful readers, I'll finish my tale of Kyoto.
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
Pure Water
J113 Monday August 13th
Up and at 'em!
I heard two people coming in the guest house just before I fell asleep the night before; Mrs. Tani had rented out the other room to some guests. I couldn't tell anything from the sounds they made; they were very quiet and considerate. I did know there were two of them, though.
Some time earlier in the morning, before I had woken up, Mrs. Tani had left some breakfast for myself and her other two guests. Ninja-like in her undetectability, she had left a loaf of bread, some jam, and a small basket of pastries. I enjoyed a pastry, not knowing how hungry the other guests would be.
I had a quick shower in the tiniest shower ever. My bathroom was about two and a half feet wide and maybe 6 feet long, with the door and the toilet on opposite sides of the room's longest dimension. The entire room was, also, the shower stall. I made sure to keep the water nice and cool, and had a nice, brisk shower.
After I dressed, I walked back out into the kitchen. The other guests had appeared, and were enjoying breakfast. They were an Italian couple, Maulo and Clara. They had gotten in after I did the night before. They, like so many other foreigners I had met in Kyoto, were on vacation. I recommended Kinkakuji and Nijo castle to them while they munched on pastries and toast.
After a few minutes of story swapping, I figured it was time to head out for the day. I donned my swim suit, it being the only clean pair of shorts I had left, and headed out into the day.
The next point I am going to make is very important. It is intended for men, but merely due to the fact of our differing physiognomy compared to the female gender. I am sure, though, given the fact that this is an infinite universe, that women have and will be met with the same, or at least a similar, problem.
Do not wear a swimsuit instead of pants.
There may be exceptions to this rule. Zombie attacks are, perhaps, situations where one's decision time for clothing is hampered. Yeowza.
Weighed down as I was, with my swimsuit doing horrific things to my undercarriage, I sought relief. I hopped on the bus and headed for the big Denki my hotel-finding friends had suggested the night before. I found the place with no problems, thanks to their excellent map-making skills, and found myself in a wonderland of electronic capitalism.
I found the digicam section without trouble, and within I found the perfect card; a nice big 2-gig number for about 3400 yen. It wasn't as good a deal as I could find in Akihabara, but given that that shopping district was over 500 kilometers away, I made do. I purchased the memory card, a memory card case (for the wrong size, but it does the job well enough) and a neck-strap. I had carried my camera by hand the day before, and though that was nice, it made handling anything else, like food or drink, difficult at best.
After acquiring my purchases, I located the nearest bathroom and made some adjustments to my clothing options. I put on my awesome safari shorts. These things are a nice, dusty olive color and have more pockets than God. They're a little loose (best problem to ever have) but my new belt does the trick just fine. I performed the operation whilst straddling a Japanese squatter toilet, which was quite an adventure. Luckily I had no mishaps, and emerged from the stall reequipped and ready for action.
I paused at the exit hall of the denki to swap memory cards and install my new neck strap. I also purchased a Pokemon cellphone strap thingie, 'cause it was cool. I wondered how I was going to get back to the station, to stash my big bag again, and as if by providence, I saw that the denki was, literally, across the street from one of the local train stations.
I strode across and hopped the next train to the station, a local that gave me a cool elevated view of the city. I stowed my bag once again and was ready for sight seeing galore! I wanted to explore the city's eastern side, given that it had a large number of temples and shrines that I'd been urged to visit. I calculated the bus to take and went to the bus platform, but was met with a truly titanic line. I was lucky enough to stand in a patch of shade, but still the day's heat swaddled me like a thick blanket. After nearly 20 minutes of waiting the correct bus arrived, and the line slowly filled it up. I was the last one aboard, with every seat filled and the aisle similarly packed. I myself was standing in the stair well in the rear of the bus.
I managed to hop up onto an equipment casing that was beneath an AC vent, saving my feet, keeping me cool, and providing a little more room for the other passengers. Alas, this was not the best bus ride in the world. Not only was it super-crowded, but traffic was very, very bad. Today was the start of Obon, a week-long holiday that's similar to Thanksgiving in the States, and everyone was going home to visit family (living and dead).
We inched along within the bus, lurching back and forth as the driver navigated traffic. We stopped every once in a while to take on new passengers, and despite the crazed packed nature of the bus others still crammed in. After nearly 30 minutes of this kind of driving, I had figured it would be faster to just walk. I got off at the next stop, where a bus attendant was gathering bus fare in his hat. I was glad to be free of the crush and I examined my surroundings.
I was near a large temple of some sort, hidden within greenery, and saw large crowds streaming in roughly the same direction. Remember what I said about crowds yesterday? So, I followed the lines and found myself staring at a small pond. I took a break in the shade, enjoying some Aquarius (a nice sports drink) and trying to cool off after being in the bus. An older gentleman stood next to me, and started up a conversation in simple English.
He informed me of Obon's beginning and the name of the temple we were looking at, Nishi Otani. I met his family; his daughter and wife, and his toddler granddaughter. I waved hello to the little girl and was met with adorable shyness. Her grandfather told me that I was the first foreigner she had ever seen, which only made me smile more. She and her mom were keeping cool with a big bowl of shaved ice.
I said farewell and headed into Otani. The walkway was being decorated with paper lanterns by a few men on ladders in preparation for the night's festivities, and many people were walking to and from the temple's massive gates.
What did I see within the temple? Only time will tell, faithful reader, for the time has come for me to do my morning calisthenics and head in to work.
Up and at 'em!
I heard two people coming in the guest house just before I fell asleep the night before; Mrs. Tani had rented out the other room to some guests. I couldn't tell anything from the sounds they made; they were very quiet and considerate. I did know there were two of them, though.
Some time earlier in the morning, before I had woken up, Mrs. Tani had left some breakfast for myself and her other two guests. Ninja-like in her undetectability, she had left a loaf of bread, some jam, and a small basket of pastries. I enjoyed a pastry, not knowing how hungry the other guests would be.
I had a quick shower in the tiniest shower ever. My bathroom was about two and a half feet wide and maybe 6 feet long, with the door and the toilet on opposite sides of the room's longest dimension. The entire room was, also, the shower stall. I made sure to keep the water nice and cool, and had a nice, brisk shower.
After I dressed, I walked back out into the kitchen. The other guests had appeared, and were enjoying breakfast. They were an Italian couple, Maulo and Clara. They had gotten in after I did the night before. They, like so many other foreigners I had met in Kyoto, were on vacation. I recommended Kinkakuji and Nijo castle to them while they munched on pastries and toast.
After a few minutes of story swapping, I figured it was time to head out for the day. I donned my swim suit, it being the only clean pair of shorts I had left, and headed out into the day.
The next point I am going to make is very important. It is intended for men, but merely due to the fact of our differing physiognomy compared to the female gender. I am sure, though, given the fact that this is an infinite universe, that women have and will be met with the same, or at least a similar, problem.
Do not wear a swimsuit instead of pants.
There may be exceptions to this rule. Zombie attacks are, perhaps, situations where one's decision time for clothing is hampered. Yeowza.
Weighed down as I was, with my swimsuit doing horrific things to my undercarriage, I sought relief. I hopped on the bus and headed for the big Denki my hotel-finding friends had suggested the night before. I found the place with no problems, thanks to their excellent map-making skills, and found myself in a wonderland of electronic capitalism.
I found the digicam section without trouble, and within I found the perfect card; a nice big 2-gig number for about 3400 yen. It wasn't as good a deal as I could find in Akihabara, but given that that shopping district was over 500 kilometers away, I made do. I purchased the memory card, a memory card case (for the wrong size, but it does the job well enough) and a neck-strap. I had carried my camera by hand the day before, and though that was nice, it made handling anything else, like food or drink, difficult at best.
After acquiring my purchases, I located the nearest bathroom and made some adjustments to my clothing options. I put on my awesome safari shorts. These things are a nice, dusty olive color and have more pockets than God. They're a little loose (best problem to ever have) but my new belt does the trick just fine. I performed the operation whilst straddling a Japanese squatter toilet, which was quite an adventure. Luckily I had no mishaps, and emerged from the stall reequipped and ready for action.
I paused at the exit hall of the denki to swap memory cards and install my new neck strap. I also purchased a Pokemon cellphone strap thingie, 'cause it was cool. I wondered how I was going to get back to the station, to stash my big bag again, and as if by providence, I saw that the denki was, literally, across the street from one of the local train stations.
I strode across and hopped the next train to the station, a local that gave me a cool elevated view of the city. I stowed my bag once again and was ready for sight seeing galore! I wanted to explore the city's eastern side, given that it had a large number of temples and shrines that I'd been urged to visit. I calculated the bus to take and went to the bus platform, but was met with a truly titanic line. I was lucky enough to stand in a patch of shade, but still the day's heat swaddled me like a thick blanket. After nearly 20 minutes of waiting the correct bus arrived, and the line slowly filled it up. I was the last one aboard, with every seat filled and the aisle similarly packed. I myself was standing in the stair well in the rear of the bus.
I managed to hop up onto an equipment casing that was beneath an AC vent, saving my feet, keeping me cool, and providing a little more room for the other passengers. Alas, this was not the best bus ride in the world. Not only was it super-crowded, but traffic was very, very bad. Today was the start of Obon, a week-long holiday that's similar to Thanksgiving in the States, and everyone was going home to visit family (living and dead).
We inched along within the bus, lurching back and forth as the driver navigated traffic. We stopped every once in a while to take on new passengers, and despite the crazed packed nature of the bus others still crammed in. After nearly 30 minutes of this kind of driving, I had figured it would be faster to just walk. I got off at the next stop, where a bus attendant was gathering bus fare in his hat. I was glad to be free of the crush and I examined my surroundings.
I was near a large temple of some sort, hidden within greenery, and saw large crowds streaming in roughly the same direction. Remember what I said about crowds yesterday? So, I followed the lines and found myself staring at a small pond. I took a break in the shade, enjoying some Aquarius (a nice sports drink) and trying to cool off after being in the bus. An older gentleman stood next to me, and started up a conversation in simple English.
He informed me of Obon's beginning and the name of the temple we were looking at, Nishi Otani. I met his family; his daughter and wife, and his toddler granddaughter. I waved hello to the little girl and was met with adorable shyness. Her grandfather told me that I was the first foreigner she had ever seen, which only made me smile more. She and her mom were keeping cool with a big bowl of shaved ice.
I said farewell and headed into Otani. The walkway was being decorated with paper lanterns by a few men on ladders in preparation for the night's festivities, and many people were walking to and from the temple's massive gates.
What did I see within the temple? Only time will tell, faithful reader, for the time has come for me to do my morning calisthenics and head in to work.
Castle!
J112.1 Sunday August 12th (part 2)
Right, where was I? Ah, the katana shop. Every time I'm in a store that sells weapons, I have that fantasy. You know the one; where ninjas or robots or something bursts in? Yeah. They just burst in the glass and demand the deed to the store or something. Then you say some witty one-liner and grab the nearest sword and just go to town.
...
Yeah...I totally do that. It's the kid in me.
Anyway. After I got done drooling over th beautiful swords, I decided to check out the castle. It is huge. Seriously, it must cover a square kilometer at least. I approached it from its south-west corner and snapped a few pictures. A young Japanese woman was there, too, but thanks to the large hedge separating the parking lot from the castle's moat, she couldn't get any good pictures. She looked at me as I took my shots, and I saw the question in her eyes. In partial Japanese I offered to help her take a few pictures. She accepted, grateful.
Hers was a nice camera. Film, with a good zoom/focus lens. I wish I knew more about cameras, honestly. I'm an okay amateur photographer, but my knowledge of the technology doesn't extend beyond the most basic technical aspects. I got three shots for her, doing my best to stand on tip-toe above the hedges.
As I proceeded to purchase my ticket, I was stopped by another person in need of photography assistance. He was a Canadian gentleman of Middle Eastern decent. He said his parents came from Iran, but you couldn't have told it by his accent. He sounded like he came from middle America. He wanted me to get some shots of him at the castle's gates. I got a few good shots of him and we wished each other well.
Nijo castle was amazing. The gates were massive wooden things, about a foot and a half thick, set with broad bands of iron and copper. The hinges were as big as my torso, and had twisted due to the combined forces of time and gravity. I don't know if they still turn or not.
The castle's walls were equally massive. They weren't walls in the classic sense of the word; they were more like hills made of stacked stone. They sloped from bottom to top in a deceptively steep curve. Japanese stone walls are build with all the stones being tilted at a 45 degree angle. Rather than a typical, Western "brick" pattern, the stones look like diamonds. This denies easy footholds to any would-be climber.
The castle's grounds were open to the public. Most of the buildings one could enter, but a few were sealed off. The grounds are divided into two sections. The first was the shogun's main palace, a diagonal stretch of connected buildings where the shogun lived and held court. This area also contained most of the castle's gardens. The second area was a castle-within-a-castle design, built atop an artificial hill. It was the redoubt in case the lower castle fell to attackers. It too had gardens and defenses, but much more spartan compared to the opulence of the lower grounds.
I walked past the first inner wall and saw the shogun's palace. The entry hall had been converted to a shoe station; visitors cannot wear shoes whilst in the castle. Tall shelves held dozens of pairs of shoes, and mine occupied an empty slot quickly. I walked into the cool interior of the castle, and into the past.
The castle retains most if not all of its ancient construction materials. The support beams are massive and exposed, blending in with the interior decor. The corridors and hallways of the palace skirt the "outside" of the structures, leaving the middle of the structure for rooms and halls. Every room was divided from the halls and its neighbors by hand-painted silk and paper sliding doors. All of the doors sported exquisite paintings from grand master painters. Pastoral mountain scenes filled with trees and birds lurked in the dusty shade of the rooms, glittering despite the darkness. Actually, the castle was surprisingly well-lit, despite the lack of modern lighting. All of the corridors had super-thin paper windows, blocking the view from the outside, but not the light.
The coolest thing, though, had to be the nightingale floors. A nightingale floor is a rather cleaver trick of architectural design. The floorboards of the castle are pivoted in the middle of the floor by a tiny amount. Not even half a centimeter, for the most part. Where the ends of the planks meet the walls, a carpenter drives a nail at a specific angle and smooths the wood where the two touch. The effect of all this is a quiet, but noticeable, squeak or chirp whenever someone steps on the floorboard. Not every plank is constructed this way, maybe one out of every three or four, and it's a random pattern. This was an excellent way to guard against intruders, because the noise caries well in the quiet of night.
It was kind of neat, too, because there were so many people. One person sounds like a lone bird, chirping happily away by itself. With dozens of people walking around, though, it sounded like a flock of birds talking.
Visitors couldn't walk into the rooms themselves, but the corridors went everywhere, so there was nowhere in the castle you couldn't see. Upon exiting I walked through the gardens to the upper keep, marveling at the water and stones. The garden ringed a modest pond. In the center of the little body of water was a round island, similar in appearance to a turtle swimming just beneath the water. Slabs of rock were laid from the pond's shore to the island, providing foot bridges for access. The paths were sealed to visitors, but the view was lovely.
The upper keep was nice, but nothing like the lower castle. I climbed one of the higher walls via some steep steps and was treated to a nice view of the city. Kyoto is ringed on three sides by mountains, and the scenery can be quite breathtaking. I walked down and then along a big path ringing the inside of the castle's walls. I got some much-needed liquid refreshment at some vending machines located along the path.
Coming back to near where I began my trip to the castle, I ducked into a small building where more of the beautiful, ancient paintings were on display. It was air conditioned, a mercy given the day's relentless heat, and I enjoyed a few minutes just looking at the wall paintings. The artistic technique is very different from western art. It has some aspects of illumination, but there's a more realistic feel to the paintings. Detail is exquisite and precise. Very amazing. The little museum also had some artifacts recovered from a dig on the castle's grounds. Pots, coins, arrow heads, that sort of stuff.
A little further down the path was the souvenir shop, which I stopped in for yet another drink. Hydration is essential to surviving the hot Japanese summer! I rested for a bit, drinking water and sports drink with equal aplomb, and checking out the shiny stuff, but nothing really leapt out at me. I consulted my map, wondering what to do next. By now it was already 3PM, and I noticed that the castle closed at 5PM, and I was worried that most of the other temples and shrines did the same. I figured Kinkakuji, the golden temple, was my next stop.
I calculated which bus to take and hopped on. Luckily, Nijo castle has a big bus stop, and the bus I wanted pulled up literally as I was walking towards it. I got off a stop early, accidentally, but managed to get some dinner from a conbini. I followed the crowd, always a good idea when you're not exactly sure where something important is in Japan, and found my way to Kinkakuji's entrance.
I followed the crowd in, paid for my ticket, and once again found myself taken somewhere very different than the normal world. Kinkakuji is a very old, very famous temple complex. Shrines and temples line the broad path leading to the main temple. From a small side path a group of monks and priests came walking, and they were kind enough to pose for a few pictures.
I followed the crowd until I saw the sparkle of gold through the trees. I readied my camera and turned the corner, and was struck dumb. Kinkakuji means "The Golden Temple" and I can tell you, that is no lie. Kinkakuji, the actual building itself, is a three-story Japanese-style pagoda. The two top floors are completely covered in gold leaf. The sun was setting quickly now, but even in the near-twilight the temple seemed to glow. The temple was built on a small outcrop of land into a medium-sized lake. The still waters reflected the temple like a mirror. The trees and bushes, the temple, the lake, even the native fauna, combined in a sublime display of Eastern aesthetics. It was beautiful.
It was also at this time that my memory card filled up. I went through what I'd taken that day, getting rid of my duplicate photos and those that were out of focus. I freed up about 30 pictures worth of space, but I was still worried. I needed to get a new memory card before too long.
I followed the crowd up a small mountain path, passing by more miniature shrines. Several points along the path were wish spots; small half-rings of stones surrounding a wooden bowl. If you threw a coin into the bowl, your wish comes true. The bowls were surrounded by a thick layer of coins, ranging from aluminum 1-yen coins to the nickel/copper 100 yen ones.
After a few more minutes of walking, and another gift shop or two, I was back at the entrance to the temple grounds. I wanted to try to visit one more place before everything closed, and there was a nearby temple that sounded cool. Ryoji was recommended by my students. It has famous zen gardens of rock and sand, and it sounded like a cool place to see. I started walking in the right direction. And kept walking. And walked some more. I finally came to the end of the side street I'd turned off onto, and found the temple. Closed for the day.
Sigh.
I turned around and began to contemplate what I would do for the evening. I had two options: one, go home via Shinkansen and sleep like the dead, or two, find a hotel and do it all again the next morning.
I started walking aimlessly. I found a small side street, this one back toward the heart of the city. I figured I would make my mind up on the bus ride to the station. It soon became obvious, though, that I was heading deep into a residential strip rather than a bus-serviced main road. Still, I walked, remembering the pleasure I often feel by just exploring Hitachi.
I came upon a small drinking party being organized. A tiny shrine was perched atop a pillar between two buildings. Before it lay offerings and incense, and in front of the shrine was a low table piled high with food and drink. The ladies guarding the party-to-be said it was a party in honor of the shrine's god.
That's just not something you see every day, folks.
Across the street from this party, and a little ways down, I found an electronics shop. They looked to be still open, so I figured I'd ask and see if they had any memory cards. The proprietor did indeed have some, but it took a while for them to find and then price them. I struck up a halting conversation with one of the store owners while I waited. Standard fare, really. I mentioned that I didn't have a place for the night, though, and that got a response.
The other shop keep came back with the memory card, but it was too small and too expensive for my needs. I politely declined, and was ready to head out the door, when they started helping me. They gave me directions to a big electronics store (Denki) in the city. They also helped me find a place to stay. They even gave me tea!
Now, realize that my recounting of this tale is brief, but the fact that these people helped me, a person they have never met before and will probably never see again for their entire lives, really touched me. They bent over backwards to help me find a place to stay that night. They called up a small Japanese Inn, the proprietor of which spoke pretty good English. She and I made arrangements and I made my way to the train station to get my bag. The bus ride down to the station and back up to the top end of town was very, very long, illustrating Kyoto's vast size. The map I was using made Kyoto look kind of small, but in reality it's massive.
By the time I got to the inn, a small place called Tani House (run by one Mrs. Tani) it was pitch black. I followed one of the four maps the small electronics store owners had given me. After a few turns I found myself on a gravel road, and before me was a cozy looking Japanese home with a sign hanging over the gate: TANI HOUSE. It looked like something out of a fairy tale; a small home tightly packed with stuff. The front yard sported a tiny pond and a babbling water pump. I met Mrs. Tani who greeted me and took me 'round the back to the private room I had requested for the night.
Realize that, essentially, Tani House was Mrs. Tani's house, and that she rented rooms out. I was taken to a separate set of rooms in the back of her house. The small building had two bed rooms and two bathrooms, linked by a common kitchen. Mrs. Tani made some green tea for me (wonderfully cool) and laid out some salted nuts and a tasty snack of mochi. She showed me around the place, turned on the AC, and left me to my own devices.
I relaxed for the first time all day, stretching out and delighting in the cool of the air conditioner. I turned on the TV in my room to see what was on, and found a fascinating program. It was a made-for-TV drama/biography about a famous manga artist, Shigeru Mizuki. The film alternated between the recent past, as Mizuki drew manga, and his tour in the South Pacific as a young man, which part of his manga was based on. It was quite bittersweet.
I soon felt the day's trials weigh on me, so I unfolded my futon and drifted off to sleep. It was hardly 10PM by the time I was unconscious.
Right, where was I? Ah, the katana shop. Every time I'm in a store that sells weapons, I have that fantasy. You know the one; where ninjas or robots or something bursts in? Yeah. They just burst in the glass and demand the deed to the store or something. Then you say some witty one-liner and grab the nearest sword and just go to town.
...
Yeah...I totally do that. It's the kid in me.
Anyway. After I got done drooling over th beautiful swords, I decided to check out the castle. It is huge. Seriously, it must cover a square kilometer at least. I approached it from its south-west corner and snapped a few pictures. A young Japanese woman was there, too, but thanks to the large hedge separating the parking lot from the castle's moat, she couldn't get any good pictures. She looked at me as I took my shots, and I saw the question in her eyes. In partial Japanese I offered to help her take a few pictures. She accepted, grateful.
Hers was a nice camera. Film, with a good zoom/focus lens. I wish I knew more about cameras, honestly. I'm an okay amateur photographer, but my knowledge of the technology doesn't extend beyond the most basic technical aspects. I got three shots for her, doing my best to stand on tip-toe above the hedges.
As I proceeded to purchase my ticket, I was stopped by another person in need of photography assistance. He was a Canadian gentleman of Middle Eastern decent. He said his parents came from Iran, but you couldn't have told it by his accent. He sounded like he came from middle America. He wanted me to get some shots of him at the castle's gates. I got a few good shots of him and we wished each other well.
Nijo castle was amazing. The gates were massive wooden things, about a foot and a half thick, set with broad bands of iron and copper. The hinges were as big as my torso, and had twisted due to the combined forces of time and gravity. I don't know if they still turn or not.
The castle's walls were equally massive. They weren't walls in the classic sense of the word; they were more like hills made of stacked stone. They sloped from bottom to top in a deceptively steep curve. Japanese stone walls are build with all the stones being tilted at a 45 degree angle. Rather than a typical, Western "brick" pattern, the stones look like diamonds. This denies easy footholds to any would-be climber.
The castle's grounds were open to the public. Most of the buildings one could enter, but a few were sealed off. The grounds are divided into two sections. The first was the shogun's main palace, a diagonal stretch of connected buildings where the shogun lived and held court. This area also contained most of the castle's gardens. The second area was a castle-within-a-castle design, built atop an artificial hill. It was the redoubt in case the lower castle fell to attackers. It too had gardens and defenses, but much more spartan compared to the opulence of the lower grounds.
I walked past the first inner wall and saw the shogun's palace. The entry hall had been converted to a shoe station; visitors cannot wear shoes whilst in the castle. Tall shelves held dozens of pairs of shoes, and mine occupied an empty slot quickly. I walked into the cool interior of the castle, and into the past.
The castle retains most if not all of its ancient construction materials. The support beams are massive and exposed, blending in with the interior decor. The corridors and hallways of the palace skirt the "outside" of the structures, leaving the middle of the structure for rooms and halls. Every room was divided from the halls and its neighbors by hand-painted silk and paper sliding doors. All of the doors sported exquisite paintings from grand master painters. Pastoral mountain scenes filled with trees and birds lurked in the dusty shade of the rooms, glittering despite the darkness. Actually, the castle was surprisingly well-lit, despite the lack of modern lighting. All of the corridors had super-thin paper windows, blocking the view from the outside, but not the light.
The coolest thing, though, had to be the nightingale floors. A nightingale floor is a rather cleaver trick of architectural design. The floorboards of the castle are pivoted in the middle of the floor by a tiny amount. Not even half a centimeter, for the most part. Where the ends of the planks meet the walls, a carpenter drives a nail at a specific angle and smooths the wood where the two touch. The effect of all this is a quiet, but noticeable, squeak or chirp whenever someone steps on the floorboard. Not every plank is constructed this way, maybe one out of every three or four, and it's a random pattern. This was an excellent way to guard against intruders, because the noise caries well in the quiet of night.
It was kind of neat, too, because there were so many people. One person sounds like a lone bird, chirping happily away by itself. With dozens of people walking around, though, it sounded like a flock of birds talking.
Visitors couldn't walk into the rooms themselves, but the corridors went everywhere, so there was nowhere in the castle you couldn't see. Upon exiting I walked through the gardens to the upper keep, marveling at the water and stones. The garden ringed a modest pond. In the center of the little body of water was a round island, similar in appearance to a turtle swimming just beneath the water. Slabs of rock were laid from the pond's shore to the island, providing foot bridges for access. The paths were sealed to visitors, but the view was lovely.
The upper keep was nice, but nothing like the lower castle. I climbed one of the higher walls via some steep steps and was treated to a nice view of the city. Kyoto is ringed on three sides by mountains, and the scenery can be quite breathtaking. I walked down and then along a big path ringing the inside of the castle's walls. I got some much-needed liquid refreshment at some vending machines located along the path.
Coming back to near where I began my trip to the castle, I ducked into a small building where more of the beautiful, ancient paintings were on display. It was air conditioned, a mercy given the day's relentless heat, and I enjoyed a few minutes just looking at the wall paintings. The artistic technique is very different from western art. It has some aspects of illumination, but there's a more realistic feel to the paintings. Detail is exquisite and precise. Very amazing. The little museum also had some artifacts recovered from a dig on the castle's grounds. Pots, coins, arrow heads, that sort of stuff.
A little further down the path was the souvenir shop, which I stopped in for yet another drink. Hydration is essential to surviving the hot Japanese summer! I rested for a bit, drinking water and sports drink with equal aplomb, and checking out the shiny stuff, but nothing really leapt out at me. I consulted my map, wondering what to do next. By now it was already 3PM, and I noticed that the castle closed at 5PM, and I was worried that most of the other temples and shrines did the same. I figured Kinkakuji, the golden temple, was my next stop.
I calculated which bus to take and hopped on. Luckily, Nijo castle has a big bus stop, and the bus I wanted pulled up literally as I was walking towards it. I got off a stop early, accidentally, but managed to get some dinner from a conbini. I followed the crowd, always a good idea when you're not exactly sure where something important is in Japan, and found my way to Kinkakuji's entrance.
I followed the crowd in, paid for my ticket, and once again found myself taken somewhere very different than the normal world. Kinkakuji is a very old, very famous temple complex. Shrines and temples line the broad path leading to the main temple. From a small side path a group of monks and priests came walking, and they were kind enough to pose for a few pictures.
I followed the crowd until I saw the sparkle of gold through the trees. I readied my camera and turned the corner, and was struck dumb. Kinkakuji means "The Golden Temple" and I can tell you, that is no lie. Kinkakuji, the actual building itself, is a three-story Japanese-style pagoda. The two top floors are completely covered in gold leaf. The sun was setting quickly now, but even in the near-twilight the temple seemed to glow. The temple was built on a small outcrop of land into a medium-sized lake. The still waters reflected the temple like a mirror. The trees and bushes, the temple, the lake, even the native fauna, combined in a sublime display of Eastern aesthetics. It was beautiful.
It was also at this time that my memory card filled up. I went through what I'd taken that day, getting rid of my duplicate photos and those that were out of focus. I freed up about 30 pictures worth of space, but I was still worried. I needed to get a new memory card before too long.
I followed the crowd up a small mountain path, passing by more miniature shrines. Several points along the path were wish spots; small half-rings of stones surrounding a wooden bowl. If you threw a coin into the bowl, your wish comes true. The bowls were surrounded by a thick layer of coins, ranging from aluminum 1-yen coins to the nickel/copper 100 yen ones.
After a few more minutes of walking, and another gift shop or two, I was back at the entrance to the temple grounds. I wanted to try to visit one more place before everything closed, and there was a nearby temple that sounded cool. Ryoji was recommended by my students. It has famous zen gardens of rock and sand, and it sounded like a cool place to see. I started walking in the right direction. And kept walking. And walked some more. I finally came to the end of the side street I'd turned off onto, and found the temple. Closed for the day.
Sigh.
I turned around and began to contemplate what I would do for the evening. I had two options: one, go home via Shinkansen and sleep like the dead, or two, find a hotel and do it all again the next morning.
I started walking aimlessly. I found a small side street, this one back toward the heart of the city. I figured I would make my mind up on the bus ride to the station. It soon became obvious, though, that I was heading deep into a residential strip rather than a bus-serviced main road. Still, I walked, remembering the pleasure I often feel by just exploring Hitachi.
I came upon a small drinking party being organized. A tiny shrine was perched atop a pillar between two buildings. Before it lay offerings and incense, and in front of the shrine was a low table piled high with food and drink. The ladies guarding the party-to-be said it was a party in honor of the shrine's god.
That's just not something you see every day, folks.
Across the street from this party, and a little ways down, I found an electronics shop. They looked to be still open, so I figured I'd ask and see if they had any memory cards. The proprietor did indeed have some, but it took a while for them to find and then price them. I struck up a halting conversation with one of the store owners while I waited. Standard fare, really. I mentioned that I didn't have a place for the night, though, and that got a response.
The other shop keep came back with the memory card, but it was too small and too expensive for my needs. I politely declined, and was ready to head out the door, when they started helping me. They gave me directions to a big electronics store (Denki) in the city. They also helped me find a place to stay. They even gave me tea!
Now, realize that my recounting of this tale is brief, but the fact that these people helped me, a person they have never met before and will probably never see again for their entire lives, really touched me. They bent over backwards to help me find a place to stay that night. They called up a small Japanese Inn, the proprietor of which spoke pretty good English. She and I made arrangements and I made my way to the train station to get my bag. The bus ride down to the station and back up to the top end of town was very, very long, illustrating Kyoto's vast size. The map I was using made Kyoto look kind of small, but in reality it's massive.
By the time I got to the inn, a small place called Tani House (run by one Mrs. Tani) it was pitch black. I followed one of the four maps the small electronics store owners had given me. After a few turns I found myself on a gravel road, and before me was a cozy looking Japanese home with a sign hanging over the gate: TANI HOUSE. It looked like something out of a fairy tale; a small home tightly packed with stuff. The front yard sported a tiny pond and a babbling water pump. I met Mrs. Tani who greeted me and took me 'round the back to the private room I had requested for the night.
Realize that, essentially, Tani House was Mrs. Tani's house, and that she rented rooms out. I was taken to a separate set of rooms in the back of her house. The small building had two bed rooms and two bathrooms, linked by a common kitchen. Mrs. Tani made some green tea for me (wonderfully cool) and laid out some salted nuts and a tasty snack of mochi. She showed me around the place, turned on the AC, and left me to my own devices.
I relaxed for the first time all day, stretching out and delighting in the cool of the air conditioner. I turned on the TV in my room to see what was on, and found a fascinating program. It was a made-for-TV drama/biography about a famous manga artist, Shigeru Mizuki. The film alternated between the recent past, as Mizuki drew manga, and his tour in the South Pacific as a young man, which part of his manga was based on. It was quite bittersweet.
I soon felt the day's trials weigh on me, so I unfolded my futon and drifted off to sleep. It was hardly 10PM by the time I was unconscious.
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.
Vacation Recap!
J110.1 Friday August 10th (Part 2)
My last post was written in the middle of the day, so a few more things happened. I met people!
On my way in to the Internet cafe, I struck up a conversation with an Italian gentleman by the name of Fabio. He used to be a table tennis player for quite some time, but now works for an advertising company. Hearing his Italian origins prompted me to mention my own heritage. For those unaware, I am 3rd generation Italian on my mother's side; my great-grandparents were born in Sicily but immigrated to America before my maternal grandfather was born. So, yay Italian genes!
I've noticed, however, that when I mention my Italian heritage to an Italian person, or someone similarly-descended, it's like I announce that I'm their long-lost brother. A switch goes off, and they turn from jovial, good-humored individuals to very generous, super-friendly people. They go from nice to amazingly nice.
Fabio and I had both purchased an hour's worth of time, and agreed to meet again once our time was up. I relished the air conditioned interior of my cubicle and the respite it gave my already-aching feet and legs. My last post was made at great leisure.
When my hour was up, Fabio was waiting in the lobby for me. We settled our bills with the staff and walked a while, exchanging stories. He told me of his life as a table tennis player for a team in Japan some years ago. I told him of my graduation from college and my job as an English teacher. When I mentioned I had no plans for the rest of the day, he insisted that I accompany him. He was in the market for some digital cameras, both for personal use and as gifts to friends, and we set about to find some good deals.
We walked back toward Akiba station, ending up in a deceptively large electronics store. Fabio educated me on the differences between several models, and while he haggled I browsed the laptop section. Japan's shops offer a large variety of portable computing solutions, and I've had my interest piqued by micro laptops. My current machine is a good computer, but it's somewhat bulky (as laptops go) and it's my only system. It's my link to the outside world, and I only take it out of my apartment when it's absolutely necessary.
I'd love to have a small, rugged machine that I could take with me when I go out. Nothing fancy. Nothing I'd be able to game on. Just something with basic internet connectivity, wireless if at all possible. A small platform upon which I could write, or check email, or display documents and other media to friends and associates. An actual mobile media platform. But not a micro computer. Not some tiny, 7-inch display thing that more resembles a chunky cell phone. A Sidekick or Blueberry would be nice, but either would be too small for my purposes.
The store I was in, and many others in Japan, offer many different models of small laptops. Their capacities range wildly; some use top-of-the-line processors, others use ones half a decade old. Some have only 10 gigabytes of hard disk space, while others boast quadruple that number.
Fabio suggested a few models, citing Toshiba as a good manufacturer. He also recommended another model, one that I scratched the name down, but I can't recall at the time of this writing.
Sorry, tangent.
Fabio purchased two cameras from the store, and we set out into the growing twilight. Akihabara is also known as Electric Town, so night never really comes. The sky darkens, of course, but the streets and alleys are lit by ten thousand shades of neon. LEDs blink from shop windows, warning passerby of alarm systems. Everywhere people check their email or the time from PDAs and cell phones. Akihabara is never dark.
We both felt the pang of hunger, and Fabio offered to buy me dinner at a nearby burger joint. This wasn't fast food per se; the hamburgers were actual grilled meat rather than a lamp-warmed discus of compressed "meat".
We chatted about life, as Italian folk so often seem to do. He shared some insightful advice with me, beseeching me to find my path in life and follow it with gusto. Being undecided about your future, he said, was a tragic thing. Find your goal, and then take steps to reach it. Common sense advice, perhaps, but something you don't hear every day.
In the middle of our meal, the seats next to us (we were sitting at a pseudo-bar in the middle of the eatery) two other foreigners sat down. They were both NOVA teachers from Canada. One, who's name I cannot recall (so let's call him Bob) was a self-proclaimed aboriginal Canadian, hailing from a reservation near Toronto. The other, Nick (that is his name) was of European decent, from a town near the reservation. They were friends, Bob having come to Japan with NOVA two or three years ago, and suggesting Nick come a few years after. Very similar to how I got this job, with my friend Tara suggesting I apply, given her overall happiness with the job.
Nick, Bob and I began to talk. Bob was leaving for Canada the next day, and was gearing up for a sort of last huzzah. Nick was along for the ride. They also work (in Bob's case, worked) in NOVA's Akihabara branch. They both were also unrepentant nerds, easily in my own league of fandom, which was amazing. They teach in a place that is so well-known amongst the Japanophiles of Earth that many would do...questionable things...to attain their position. Nick swore up and down that his post was attained through random chance, and that he in no way assassinated a high-profile target to get it. Honest.
Fabio had finished his meal by the time the two had sat down, and he decided to move on. We swapped numbers as he left; he was going to Kyoto, and wanted me to get in touch with him when I got there. I thanked him for the meal for what was probably the eighth time, and we parted ways.
Nick, Bob, and I soon engaged in full-blown nerd speak. Some of you may have experienced this phenomena. I know I've mentioned it a few times before, but I think I'd like to go into more detail.
Nerds know one another. There is a...sixth sense, I guess you could say...that we have developed. It's a survival mechanism, one developed so as to identify allies in a battlefield rife with hostile opponents. It's subtle things; body language, stance, eye contact. There are obvious signs, of course. One could wear a shirt proclaiming them to be a flaming Dr. Who fan, which is a dead giveaway. But those of us who must suppress our nerdity, lest it become a distraction or a hindrance to 'normal' social contact, must utilize well-honed, social minutiae, ninja-like in subtlety.
When this sense pings, when we catch the vibe, we begin tentative contact. An initial probe, to see if our reading is correct. One usually starts with a quote or reference to something nerdy, but not something super-obscure. This is testing the waters. A Monty Python quote will do, or if you're not adept, something from Star Wars. Most people have seen these media, and have enjoyed them, but nerds have a fundamentally different response to these stimuli. Non-nerds will laugh and say "Hey, that's from Monty Python, isn't it? That was a funny show."
A nerd will say something like "Funny, but I find the Cheese Shop sketch to be better." or "Dude, Star Wars was awesome until the second trilogy."
Success! Initial contact has been established! Warm up the engines!
What follows next is something akin to when a modem connects to the internet. You know that high-pitched squawking your computer made, and then that hissing sound? Well, nerds are like that. We engage in this...information exchange. Through carefully selected references, commentary, and conversation branching, one can communicate volumes about their particular style of nerd. Some nerds only enjoy science fiction, others fantasy. Some enjoy mostly books, while others are suckers for movies. Some enjoy tabletop gaming, or board gaming, or only video gaming. Some enjoy one of these intensely, while others sample from them all.
This establishes common ground. It lays the ground rules for the conversation. You know what to and not to talk about. If you like the latest Star Wars trilogy (and the devil take you if you do) and your newfound friend does not, you know not to talk about it, lest you actively detract from the conversation.
This is what Bob, Nick, and I did. For about 30 minutes, we talked at rapid speed, informing one another of our own tastes, likes, and dislikes. We discussed many things, mostly politics, and decided to quit the eating establishment and get some fresh air. We wandered Akihabara together, finding the RPG-specialized Yellow Submarine. Come to find out, Nick is a very, very big tabletop gaming nerd. This was a joy to discover, as I have been hurting for a good RPG fix, and have made little progress getting a group together. He and I share a love for many systems, though his knowledge is far more deeper than mine. I'm more of a breadth guy, while Nick's love of a few systems has granted him very intense knowledge of those handful. I, for one, salute him. Plus, he really likes Exalted, and that makes anyone awesome in my book.
We walked and walked, talked and talked. At a model shop, Bob and Nick had to call it a night. There were plans a-foot to rent movies and watch them with friends before Bob had to leave, and I didn't wish to interfere with their merriment. I decided to call it an early night, even though it was hardly 9 PM. I'd been walking all day with a full load, and was in desperate need of sleep.
I decided to return to the Internet Cafe. They had sleeper cubes, and was lucky enough to get one for the night. It was around 4000 yen for 12 hours, enough time to let me sleep in the next morning. Showers were available, but there was some sort of...difficulty...that I couldn't quite understand. My Japanese still is far from perfect, and many Japanese people aren't able to speak at a low enough level for me to understand them easily. Nevertheless, I found a place to sleep for the night.
A sleeper cube is a simple thing. It's a little longer than a normal cube, and instead of an office chair, it has a tiny futon. The futon rests on a large wooden cabinet and can ratchet in the middle, allowing the user to surf the internet from a relaxed, reclined position.
No sheets, blankets, or pillows were provided, but that was no problem for me. Something relatively soft and an air conditioned room was perfect for me. I used my handkerchief as a blindfold; the lights were dim, but still bright enough to make sleep difficult. I woke up several times through the night, but always managed to get back to sleep soon. In all, it was a restful night, and I was ready for the next day's adventures.
My last post was written in the middle of the day, so a few more things happened. I met people!
On my way in to the Internet cafe, I struck up a conversation with an Italian gentleman by the name of Fabio. He used to be a table tennis player for quite some time, but now works for an advertising company. Hearing his Italian origins prompted me to mention my own heritage. For those unaware, I am 3rd generation Italian on my mother's side; my great-grandparents were born in Sicily but immigrated to America before my maternal grandfather was born. So, yay Italian genes!
I've noticed, however, that when I mention my Italian heritage to an Italian person, or someone similarly-descended, it's like I announce that I'm their long-lost brother. A switch goes off, and they turn from jovial, good-humored individuals to very generous, super-friendly people. They go from nice to amazingly nice.
Fabio and I had both purchased an hour's worth of time, and agreed to meet again once our time was up. I relished the air conditioned interior of my cubicle and the respite it gave my already-aching feet and legs. My last post was made at great leisure.
When my hour was up, Fabio was waiting in the lobby for me. We settled our bills with the staff and walked a while, exchanging stories. He told me of his life as a table tennis player for a team in Japan some years ago. I told him of my graduation from college and my job as an English teacher. When I mentioned I had no plans for the rest of the day, he insisted that I accompany him. He was in the market for some digital cameras, both for personal use and as gifts to friends, and we set about to find some good deals.
We walked back toward Akiba station, ending up in a deceptively large electronics store. Fabio educated me on the differences between several models, and while he haggled I browsed the laptop section. Japan's shops offer a large variety of portable computing solutions, and I've had my interest piqued by micro laptops. My current machine is a good computer, but it's somewhat bulky (as laptops go) and it's my only system. It's my link to the outside world, and I only take it out of my apartment when it's absolutely necessary.
I'd love to have a small, rugged machine that I could take with me when I go out. Nothing fancy. Nothing I'd be able to game on. Just something with basic internet connectivity, wireless if at all possible. A small platform upon which I could write, or check email, or display documents and other media to friends and associates. An actual mobile media platform. But not a micro computer. Not some tiny, 7-inch display thing that more resembles a chunky cell phone. A Sidekick or Blueberry would be nice, but either would be too small for my purposes.
The store I was in, and many others in Japan, offer many different models of small laptops. Their capacities range wildly; some use top-of-the-line processors, others use ones half a decade old. Some have only 10 gigabytes of hard disk space, while others boast quadruple that number.
Fabio suggested a few models, citing Toshiba as a good manufacturer. He also recommended another model, one that I scratched the name down, but I can't recall at the time of this writing.
Sorry, tangent.
Fabio purchased two cameras from the store, and we set out into the growing twilight. Akihabara is also known as Electric Town, so night never really comes. The sky darkens, of course, but the streets and alleys are lit by ten thousand shades of neon. LEDs blink from shop windows, warning passerby of alarm systems. Everywhere people check their email or the time from PDAs and cell phones. Akihabara is never dark.
We both felt the pang of hunger, and Fabio offered to buy me dinner at a nearby burger joint. This wasn't fast food per se; the hamburgers were actual grilled meat rather than a lamp-warmed discus of compressed "meat".
We chatted about life, as Italian folk so often seem to do. He shared some insightful advice with me, beseeching me to find my path in life and follow it with gusto. Being undecided about your future, he said, was a tragic thing. Find your goal, and then take steps to reach it. Common sense advice, perhaps, but something you don't hear every day.
In the middle of our meal, the seats next to us (we were sitting at a pseudo-bar in the middle of the eatery) two other foreigners sat down. They were both NOVA teachers from Canada. One, who's name I cannot recall (so let's call him Bob) was a self-proclaimed aboriginal Canadian, hailing from a reservation near Toronto. The other, Nick (that is his name) was of European decent, from a town near the reservation. They were friends, Bob having come to Japan with NOVA two or three years ago, and suggesting Nick come a few years after. Very similar to how I got this job, with my friend Tara suggesting I apply, given her overall happiness with the job.
Nick, Bob and I began to talk. Bob was leaving for Canada the next day, and was gearing up for a sort of last huzzah. Nick was along for the ride. They also work (in Bob's case, worked) in NOVA's Akihabara branch. They both were also unrepentant nerds, easily in my own league of fandom, which was amazing. They teach in a place that is so well-known amongst the Japanophiles of Earth that many would do...questionable things...to attain their position. Nick swore up and down that his post was attained through random chance, and that he in no way assassinated a high-profile target to get it. Honest.
Fabio had finished his meal by the time the two had sat down, and he decided to move on. We swapped numbers as he left; he was going to Kyoto, and wanted me to get in touch with him when I got there. I thanked him for the meal for what was probably the eighth time, and we parted ways.
Nick, Bob, and I soon engaged in full-blown nerd speak. Some of you may have experienced this phenomena. I know I've mentioned it a few times before, but I think I'd like to go into more detail.
Nerds know one another. There is a...sixth sense, I guess you could say...that we have developed. It's a survival mechanism, one developed so as to identify allies in a battlefield rife with hostile opponents. It's subtle things; body language, stance, eye contact. There are obvious signs, of course. One could wear a shirt proclaiming them to be a flaming Dr. Who fan, which is a dead giveaway. But those of us who must suppress our nerdity, lest it become a distraction or a hindrance to 'normal' social contact, must utilize well-honed, social minutiae, ninja-like in subtlety.
When this sense pings, when we catch the vibe, we begin tentative contact. An initial probe, to see if our reading is correct. One usually starts with a quote or reference to something nerdy, but not something super-obscure. This is testing the waters. A Monty Python quote will do, or if you're not adept, something from Star Wars. Most people have seen these media, and have enjoyed them, but nerds have a fundamentally different response to these stimuli. Non-nerds will laugh and say "Hey, that's from Monty Python, isn't it? That was a funny show."
A nerd will say something like "Funny, but I find the Cheese Shop sketch to be better." or "Dude, Star Wars was awesome until the second trilogy."
Success! Initial contact has been established! Warm up the engines!
What follows next is something akin to when a modem connects to the internet. You know that high-pitched squawking your computer made, and then that hissing sound? Well, nerds are like that. We engage in this...information exchange. Through carefully selected references, commentary, and conversation branching, one can communicate volumes about their particular style of nerd. Some nerds only enjoy science fiction, others fantasy. Some enjoy mostly books, while others are suckers for movies. Some enjoy tabletop gaming, or board gaming, or only video gaming. Some enjoy one of these intensely, while others sample from them all.
This establishes common ground. It lays the ground rules for the conversation. You know what to and not to talk about. If you like the latest Star Wars trilogy (and the devil take you if you do) and your newfound friend does not, you know not to talk about it, lest you actively detract from the conversation.
This is what Bob, Nick, and I did. For about 30 minutes, we talked at rapid speed, informing one another of our own tastes, likes, and dislikes. We discussed many things, mostly politics, and decided to quit the eating establishment and get some fresh air. We wandered Akihabara together, finding the RPG-specialized Yellow Submarine. Come to find out, Nick is a very, very big tabletop gaming nerd. This was a joy to discover, as I have been hurting for a good RPG fix, and have made little progress getting a group together. He and I share a love for many systems, though his knowledge is far more deeper than mine. I'm more of a breadth guy, while Nick's love of a few systems has granted him very intense knowledge of those handful. I, for one, salute him. Plus, he really likes Exalted, and that makes anyone awesome in my book.
We walked and walked, talked and talked. At a model shop, Bob and Nick had to call it a night. There were plans a-foot to rent movies and watch them with friends before Bob had to leave, and I didn't wish to interfere with their merriment. I decided to call it an early night, even though it was hardly 9 PM. I'd been walking all day with a full load, and was in desperate need of sleep.
I decided to return to the Internet Cafe. They had sleeper cubes, and was lucky enough to get one for the night. It was around 4000 yen for 12 hours, enough time to let me sleep in the next morning. Showers were available, but there was some sort of...difficulty...that I couldn't quite understand. My Japanese still is far from perfect, and many Japanese people aren't able to speak at a low enough level for me to understand them easily. Nevertheless, I found a place to sleep for the night.
A sleeper cube is a simple thing. It's a little longer than a normal cube, and instead of an office chair, it has a tiny futon. The futon rests on a large wooden cabinet and can ratchet in the middle, allowing the user to surf the internet from a relaxed, reclined position.
No sheets, blankets, or pillows were provided, but that was no problem for me. Something relatively soft and an air conditioned room was perfect for me. I used my handkerchief as a blindfold; the lights were dim, but still bright enough to make sleep difficult. I woke up several times through the night, but always managed to get back to sleep soon. In all, it was a restful night, and I was ready for the next day's adventures.
Friday, August 10, 2007
And now we go to Nigel, live in the field...
J110 Friday August 10th
Hah! Internet cafes rule! I'm an internet cafe high above Akihabara, having found it after nearly an hour of searching.
I've been hanging out in Akiba for most of the day, just walking around and checking out shops. It's kind of funny, but because I can't read Japanese, and they don't sell a lot of stuff that has English language options, I really can't buy anything in Akihabara. Nerd capital of the world. Go figure.
It's still fun to walk around, though.
All the lockers filled up at the train stationb efore I got there, so I've been lugging my duffel around with me. I didn't pack super-heavy, but it is a good 15 extra pounds of weight my shoulders and back could do without hauling around. Still, I'm doing okay.
I'm not sure where to go next. I want to hit Asakusa, a big temple district, and I'd like to get out to Gainax if I can. Gainax may have to wait until tomorrow, though. I also want to hit Harajuku tomorrow.
Tonight I plan on staying at a capsule hotel. I don't have reservations for a standard hotel, nor could I afford to stay at one. I've found some good lists of capsule hotels in the Tokyo area, which I plan to use tonight. Most of them have shower facilities, which will be essential to prevent an international incident.
If this post comes across as poorly spelled, I apologize. I don't have my normal spell checker on this machine, and the whole thing is in Japanese. I'll check it when I get done.
I bought an hour here, which will probably come out to be 600 yen or more, depending on the specifics. Drinks are free, but everything else is Tokyo prices, which is to say prohibitively expensive.
I've been trying to get in touch with Brain today, to no (current) avail. I figure he's probably still at work. I'd love to bum around with him tonight and/or tomorrow.
Anyway, I know this entry isn't as polished as mine normally are, but I figured I'd do the best with the time I have. I think I've got about 35-40 more minutes to go on the clock. I need to check up on hotels in Kyoto, either an actual hotel, a capsule, or a ryokan (traditional Japanese Inn).
Hah! Internet cafes rule! I'm an internet cafe high above Akihabara, having found it after nearly an hour of searching.
I've been hanging out in Akiba for most of the day, just walking around and checking out shops. It's kind of funny, but because I can't read Japanese, and they don't sell a lot of stuff that has English language options, I really can't buy anything in Akihabara. Nerd capital of the world. Go figure.
It's still fun to walk around, though.
All the lockers filled up at the train stationb efore I got there, so I've been lugging my duffel around with me. I didn't pack super-heavy, but it is a good 15 extra pounds of weight my shoulders and back could do without hauling around. Still, I'm doing okay.
I'm not sure where to go next. I want to hit Asakusa, a big temple district, and I'd like to get out to Gainax if I can. Gainax may have to wait until tomorrow, though. I also want to hit Harajuku tomorrow.
Tonight I plan on staying at a capsule hotel. I don't have reservations for a standard hotel, nor could I afford to stay at one. I've found some good lists of capsule hotels in the Tokyo area, which I plan to use tonight. Most of them have shower facilities, which will be essential to prevent an international incident.
If this post comes across as poorly spelled, I apologize. I don't have my normal spell checker on this machine, and the whole thing is in Japanese. I'll check it when I get done.
I bought an hour here, which will probably come out to be 600 yen or more, depending on the specifics. Drinks are free, but everything else is Tokyo prices, which is to say prohibitively expensive.
I've been trying to get in touch with Brain today, to no (current) avail. I figure he's probably still at work. I'd love to bum around with him tonight and/or tomorrow.
Anyway, I know this entry isn't as polished as mine normally are, but I figured I'd do the best with the time I have. I think I've got about 35-40 more minutes to go on the clock. I need to check up on hotels in Kyoto, either an actual hotel, a capsule, or a ryokan (traditional Japanese Inn).
Thursday, August 9, 2007
okay, now for today
J109 Thursday August 9th
Ahhhhhh, vacation. That wonderful feeling of waking up and not having to go into work for the next 7 days.
7 days.
I did a lot today, in preparation for my vacation. I stopped at the ATM first, to get some monies. I grabbed lunch and ate it at the steps of the shrine again (I love eating there. So peaceful). I dropped off my dry cleaning, and then went to pick up a bus ticket. My first stop on my vacation is Tokyo, which I'll go to tomorrow morning. I couldn't quite figure out where to purchase a bus ticket, though. I couldn't quite understand the train station employees, and the Lawson's workers were trying to use a multipurpose console to see if I could buy tickets there. Luckily, fate smiled upon me. An American woman and her Japanese coworker stopped in to buy a snack, and I asked for their help. They work in Hitachi, as secretaries for some sort of nuclear research company.
The Japanese woman of the pair led me to the bus travel office, just a little ways down Heiwa street. I thanked her and her American counterpart profusely. They were catching the next bus to Kyoto themselves, so as soon as they showed me where the office was they departed.
I purchased an early morning ticket (the bus leaves at 7:30) and debated my next move. I decided to head into Ito Yokado and see what I could see there.
I wound up purchasing a new shoulder strap for my NERV duffel bag. The strap broke on my flight to Japan, and it's been a pain to lug with just handles. I also purchased a swimsuit, having no such garment here in Japan. It's a nice Airwalk brand, a little expensive, but well put together and festooned with pockets. Festooned! I ran into Greg, K, and Sylvia as I shopped, and we all exchanged pleasantries.
My final stop was the grocery store in Yokado. I've run out of a lot of food, and I haven't restocked much, given that I'll be out of the house for almost a week. Still, a boy needs to eat, so I bought some tofu, a few drinks and some breakfast food.
I biked home, enjoying the summer sun and lovely breeze. Thunder clouds were booming off in the distance, but they showed no signs of coming toward Hitachi.
I spent the next few hours playing Neverwinter Nights. I haven't played a video game, my DS notwithstanding, in weeks. It was wonderful to play something new and exciting. I've never finished the single-player campaign, and I must say it's rather fun. A little dated, but that's never a bad thing. I've also got Deus Ex installed, which I play once in a blue moon.
And that leaves us with now. I need to pack up my bag and get to sleep really soon. My bus leaves in less than 8 hours. My gizmos are charged, which is good, and my laundry's drying.
I want to let ya'll know that I won't be able to post for a few days. I'm not going to have regular access to a computer, which will mean I won't be online. Just remember; I am always in your heart, 'cause you all are always in mine.
That's right. I just said that. Because I'm awesome.
Ahhhhhh, vacation. That wonderful feeling of waking up and not having to go into work for the next 7 days.
7 days.
I did a lot today, in preparation for my vacation. I stopped at the ATM first, to get some monies. I grabbed lunch and ate it at the steps of the shrine again (I love eating there. So peaceful). I dropped off my dry cleaning, and then went to pick up a bus ticket. My first stop on my vacation is Tokyo, which I'll go to tomorrow morning. I couldn't quite figure out where to purchase a bus ticket, though. I couldn't quite understand the train station employees, and the Lawson's workers were trying to use a multipurpose console to see if I could buy tickets there. Luckily, fate smiled upon me. An American woman and her Japanese coworker stopped in to buy a snack, and I asked for their help. They work in Hitachi, as secretaries for some sort of nuclear research company.
The Japanese woman of the pair led me to the bus travel office, just a little ways down Heiwa street. I thanked her and her American counterpart profusely. They were catching the next bus to Kyoto themselves, so as soon as they showed me where the office was they departed.
I purchased an early morning ticket (the bus leaves at 7:30) and debated my next move. I decided to head into Ito Yokado and see what I could see there.
I wound up purchasing a new shoulder strap for my NERV duffel bag. The strap broke on my flight to Japan, and it's been a pain to lug with just handles. I also purchased a swimsuit, having no such garment here in Japan. It's a nice Airwalk brand, a little expensive, but well put together and festooned with pockets. Festooned! I ran into Greg, K, and Sylvia as I shopped, and we all exchanged pleasantries.
My final stop was the grocery store in Yokado. I've run out of a lot of food, and I haven't restocked much, given that I'll be out of the house for almost a week. Still, a boy needs to eat, so I bought some tofu, a few drinks and some breakfast food.
I biked home, enjoying the summer sun and lovely breeze. Thunder clouds were booming off in the distance, but they showed no signs of coming toward Hitachi.
I spent the next few hours playing Neverwinter Nights. I haven't played a video game, my DS notwithstanding, in weeks. It was wonderful to play something new and exciting. I've never finished the single-player campaign, and I must say it's rather fun. A little dated, but that's never a bad thing. I've also got Deus Ex installed, which I play once in a blue moon.
And that leaves us with now. I need to pack up my bag and get to sleep really soon. My bus leaves in less than 8 hours. My gizmos are charged, which is good, and my laundry's drying.
I want to let ya'll know that I won't be able to post for a few days. I'm not going to have regular access to a computer, which will mean I won't be online. Just remember; I am always in your heart, 'cause you all are always in mine.
That's right. I just said that. Because I'm awesome.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Not quite so bad this time
J103 Friday August 4th
The heat this morning was...interesting. It was one of those days where you sweat constantly if you go outside. Ugh.
BUT, that's not important. What is important is that today was Friday, and this week has positively flown by. Next week is just two days long, two work days, before I enjoy a WEEK of free time. I almost don't know what to do with myself. The current plan is to bum around Tokyo for a few days, maybe catch up with Brain, and then head to Kyoto. Claire is going there too, and we may be able to join forces. Like Voltron, but there's only two of us, and she's Scottish. So...that'll be different.
Work was okay, once I stopped sweating. My rear tire is acting up again; this evening I realized it had flattened to nothingness. I'm not sure if the valve is just loose or if I've punctured it. I'll be able to tell tomorrow morning before work when I try to inflate it.
I'll be bringing my AC remote with me tomorrow, in hopes that the Japanese staff can help me figure out how to turn my AC on. The past few nights have been hot enough to render falling asleep a non-trivial matter, which raises some concerns with me.
Took a nice, cold shower when I got home, though, which felt very nice. A good way to cool down after an energetic bike ride home.
I had something else, but I can't remember what. I'm a little sleepy, though, so that's to be expected.
The heat this morning was...interesting. It was one of those days where you sweat constantly if you go outside. Ugh.
BUT, that's not important. What is important is that today was Friday, and this week has positively flown by. Next week is just two days long, two work days, before I enjoy a WEEK of free time. I almost don't know what to do with myself. The current plan is to bum around Tokyo for a few days, maybe catch up with Brain, and then head to Kyoto. Claire is going there too, and we may be able to join forces. Like Voltron, but there's only two of us, and she's Scottish. So...that'll be different.
Work was okay, once I stopped sweating. My rear tire is acting up again; this evening I realized it had flattened to nothingness. I'm not sure if the valve is just loose or if I've punctured it. I'll be able to tell tomorrow morning before work when I try to inflate it.
I'll be bringing my AC remote with me tomorrow, in hopes that the Japanese staff can help me figure out how to turn my AC on. The past few nights have been hot enough to render falling asleep a non-trivial matter, which raises some concerns with me.
Took a nice, cold shower when I got home, though, which felt very nice. A good way to cool down after an energetic bike ride home.
I had something else, but I can't remember what. I'm a little sleepy, though, so that's to be expected.
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