"The Silly Jelly-Fish"

I was sitting at school today, waiting for the bell to ring, indicating that my last class would be starting in exactly ten minutes, and I decided to read a book. Earlier today, I found a book in the English Zone called The Boy Who Drew Cats and Other Japanese Fairy Tales*, and, seeing as I am in Japan and all, I thought this might be a fun book to read. So, as I flipped through the pages of short stories, I came to one with an interesting title: "The Silly Jelly-Fish." Now, I don't really think jellyfish are silly, so this title urged me to read on. After reading the short tale, I made up my mind to share it with everyone here.

I also chose this story because the town Matt and I live in, Ryuo, translates to "dragon king" (and there is indeed a dragon king in this story). So, without further ado, I give you, "The Silly Jelly-Fish":

" Once upon a time the King of the Dragons, who had till then lived as a bachelor, took it into his head to get married. His bride was a young Dragonette just sixteen years old,--lovely enough, in very sooth, to become the wife of a King. Great were the rejoicings on the occasion. The Fishes, both great and small, came to pay their respects, and to offer gifts to the newly wedded pair; and for some days all was feasting and merriment.
"But alas! even Dragons have their trials. Before a month had passed, the young Dragon Queen fell ill. The doctors dosed her with every medicine that was known to them, but all to no purpose. At last they shook their heads, declaring that there was nothing more to be done. The illness must take its course, and she would probably die. But the sick Queen said to her husband:
"'I know of something that will cure me. Only fetch me a live Monkey's liver to eat, and I shall get well at once.' 'A live Monkey's liver!' exclaimed the King. 'What are you thinking of, my dear? Why! you forget that we Dragons live in the sea, while Monkeys live far away from here, among the forest-trees on land. A Monkey's liver! Why! darling, you must be mad.' Hereupon the young Dragon Queen burst into tears: 'I only ask you for one small thing,' whimpered she, 'and you won't get it for me. I always thought you didn't really love me. Oh! I wish I had stayed at home with my own m-m-mmamma and my own papa-a-a-a-!' Here her voice choked with sobs, and she could say no more.
"Well, of course the Dragon King did not like to have it thought that he was unkind to his beautiful young wife. So he sent for his trusty servant the Jelly-Fish, and said: 'It is rather a difficult job; but what I want you to try to do is to swim across to the land, and persuade a live Monkey to come here with you. In order to make the Monkey willing to come, you can tell him how much nicer everything is here in Dragon-Land than away where he lives. But what I really want him for is to cut out his liver, and use it as medicine for your young Mistress, who, as you know, is dangerously ill.'
"So the Jelly-Fish went off on his strange errand. In those days he was just like any other fish, with eyes, and fins, and a tail. He even had little feet, which made him able to walk on the land as well as to swim in the water. It did not take him many hours to swim across to the country where the Monkeys lived; and fortunately there just happened to be a fine Monkey skipping about among the branches of the trees near the place where the Jelly-Fish landed. So the Jelly-Fish said: 'Mr. Monkey! I have come to tell you of a country far more beautiful than this. It lies beyond the waves, and is called Dragon-Land. There is pleasant weather there all the year round, there is always plenty of ripe fruit on the trees, and there are none of those mischievous creatures called Men. If you will come with me, I will take you there. Just get on my back.'
"The Monkey thought it would be fun to see a new country. So he leapt onto the Jelly-Fish's back, and off they started across the water. But when they had gone about half-way, he began to fear that perhaps there might be some hidden danger. It seemed so odd to be fetched suddenly in that way by a stranger. So he said to the Jelly-Fish: 'What made you think of coming for me?' The Jelly-Fish answered: 'My Master, the King of the Dragons, wants you in order to cut out your liver, and give it as medicine to his wife, the Queen, who is sick.'
"'Oh! that's your little game,--is it?' thought the Monkey. But he kept his thoughts to himself, and only said: 'Nothing could please me better than to be of service to Their Majesties. But it so happens that I left my liver hanging to a branch of that big chestnut-tree, which you found me skipping about on. A liver is a thing that weighs a good deal. So I generally take it out, and play about without it during the daytime. We must go back for it.' The Jelly-Fish agreed that there was nothing else to be done under the circumstances. For,--silly creature that he was,--he did not see that the Monkey was telling a story in order to avoid getting killed, and having his liver used as medicine for the fanciful young Dragon Queen.
"When they reached the shore of Monkey-Land again, the Monkey bounded off the Jelly-Fish's back, and up to the topmost branch of the chestnut-tree in less than no time. Then he said: 'I do not see my liver here. Perhaps somebody has taken it away. But I will look for it. You, meantime, had better go back and tell your Master what has happened. He might be anxious about you, if you did not get home before dark.'
"So the Jelly-Fish started off a scecond time; and when he got home, he told the Dragon King everything just as it had happened. But the King flew into a passion with him for his stupidity, and hallooed to his officers, saying: 'Away with this fellow! Take him, and beat him to a jelly! Don't let a single bone remain unbroaken in his body!' So the officers seized him, and beat him, as the King had commanded. that is the reason why, to this very day, Jelly-Fishes have no bones, but are just nothing more than a mass of pulp.
"As for the Dragon Queen, when she found she could not have the Monkey's liver,--why! she made up her mind that the only thing to do was to get well without it."

*Hearn, Lafcadio and others. The Boy Who Drew Cats and Other Japanese Fairy Tales. Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, Inc., 1998.

For Heaven's Sake--Get That Man Some Pants!

Our apartment is starting to get pretty chilly at night, and Matt, who wasn't thinking ahead like I did, neglected to bring pj pants with him to Japan. So, I nicely offered that he put on my athletic pants to keep from freezing and this is what happened--mass hysteria! I think I need to try to find a way to get Matt some proper-fitting lounging/pj pants before he answers the door wearing these.

Anyway, our week has been fairly uneventful thus far--just lots of teaching. I have had more free time than usual at school, so I managed to read a favorite book from my childhood: Charlotte's Web. Yes, I realize this is a children's book and not very intellectually stimulating, but I had forgotten the book I am currently reading, The Bell Jar, at home, so I needed to do something to pass the time (and solitaire is becoming old very quickly). Well, I enjoyed reading this book again--it has probably been about twelve years since I last cracked the spine of that book--and felt all the emotions I did as a young girl reading about the adventures of Wilber, Fern, Templeton, and, of course, Charlotte.

Matt and I figured out, with the help of our friend Megan, how to switch the region code on our DVD player and have started to watch the first season of Everybody Loves Raymond. I am not necessarily crazy about this show, but some parts of each episode are comical and it is basically mindless, half-an-hour entertainment before bedtime. It is also nice to have something familiar on the TV screen. We didn't sign up for cable TV here--we pay enough bills as it is--and sometimes it feels strange to constantly have to turn off Japanese subtitles on all the movies we either buy or borrow from others. Hence, Everybody Loves Raymond.

This week and last, I have been feeling more and more frustrated with one of my JTEs. I think deep down she is really a nice woman, but her behavior at school, in the classroom, and towards me cause some days to be stressful and unpleasant. Today, I was teaching a lesson about visiting the doctor when you are sick. I have a worksheet for my kids that has a sample dialogue between a doctor and a patient (in which the patient describes his/her symptoms and the doctor makes a diagnosis and other recommendations) and in theory, it is very easy. But my first class today, the even section of class 1-2, is quite low in their English-speaking and listening comprehension abilities. Hence, I really need the JTE to be in class to help me with translations and other questions that I am incapable of answering in Japanese. But, in what is becoming more typical fashion, my JTE did not show up on time for the lesson and strolled in 25 minutes late. At this point, I had tried my hardest to explain the purpose of today's lesson to twenty confused first year students and had even needed to ask another JTE to come in and demonstrate the model dialogue with me. In any case, I was upset and frustrated. And this is not the first time I have felt so with this JTE. She usually comes in a few minutes late, plops down at the back of the room, and tries to grade her own papers throughout the lesson that we are supposed to be "team teaching." Normally, I don't mind really being in charge of most of the lesson, but there are times when I really do need her help and I am starting to tire of her grumpy attitude and disinterest in teaching Oral Communication with me. Sometimes I just feel like a burden to her. But, besides this one ongoing issue, teaching has been fine and I really do enjoy most of my classes and many of the kids.

I thought it was very cute yesterday when Kosuke (one of my first year students who typically only speaks to me in Japanese and wants me to learn more Japanese) was taken aback when I spoke the word "ittai" (meaning, "pain/hurt/ouch"). He told me in Japanese (which another student translated for me) that my speaking abilities were slowly improving. I thought this was kind of funny but very nice of him to say. Even though this simple, small comment came from a 15-year-old class-clown, it actually did mean something to me and made me feel like I am improving--one slow step at a time. I hope that by December, when we visit the Oue Family in Kobe again, I will be able to speak in more complete sentences to them and will be able to understand much more of what they say to me than I could a few weeks ago.

This weekend, so far, promises to be low-keyed and very relaxing. Besides possibly going to an onsen with Yuko sensei on Saturday (which in itself is a very relaxing experience) and having Jason over for a "sleep over" that night, we have nothing planned. I am actually looking forward to being able to sleep in till I feel like it and to do little things around the apartment that are usually neglected during the school week. At times I enjoy socializing with the other JETs but other times it is nice to just curl up with a book and read as the sun if filtered into our small living room through the futons, laundry, and sheets drying/fluffing on our balcony. Some of the days spent just relaxing at home have been the most peaceful ones I've experienced here in Japan thus far. It is a way for me to unwind and to reflect on the reality that Matt and I are really in Japan, living our lives (mostly) like we would were we in America. It is times like this that I feel more at home here and more content with our decision to experience living and working abroad.

Saturday Tokyo Drifters

Arriving at the Ryuo train station at 7:30am on a partly sunny, Saturday morning, we felt excited to be on our way to Tokyo for a day of films and fun! Courtney had invited us to attend the Tokyo International Film Festival with her and Thilmin yesterday and we just couldn't say no to such an invitation. So we traveled into Kofu early on Saturday morning to hop on a bus and ride into Tokyo. As we found our seats and sat down on the coach bus, Matt and I had a flashback to when we used to ride Badger Bus home from Milwaukee; this trip became oddly familiar in this sense.

We encountered heavy traffic as the bus made its way into Shinjuku--the area of Tokyo where Matt and I had our post-departure orientation back at the end of July. Of course, I really only got a good chance to see Shinjuku in the dark at that time (we were stuck in meetings and conferences all day at the orientation and only ventured out into the city one night--when jet lag was not quite so debilitating) and the daylight made it seem even more massive than I remembered.

Our bus arrived at Shinjuku station, where we hopped on the subway and went to Roppongi--where the film festival was taking place. After ascending from the bowels of Tokyo (we must have taken 3 or 4 huge escalators up before reaching the street level), we began our walk to the movie theater. The city, even in the overcast sky, was bustling and alive and the windows of the skyscrapers glimmered from traffic lights and periodic rays of sunshine bursting through the clouds. We approached the complex which hosted the festival, bought our tickets for a Vietnamese film entitled Saigon Love Story (which we later found out was a kind of musical melodrama), and then went over to Starbucks to have a coffee and snack. Let me tell you, drinking that white chocolate mocha and eating the blueberry cream scone put me right back at home. It really tasted delicious.

Sitting at Starbucks, Courntey, Thilmin, Matt and I (and later Courtney's friend Nick) talked about how much we all missed college--the classes, the learning, the atmosphere--and I started to get sort of sad. I do miss UWM and my friends there and the life that I had come to know those four years as an undergrad. I miss being "forced" to learn new things and having exposure to many things I might never have known of had a teacher or friend not recommended it. Being at the festival made me miss the Union Theater and watching both foreign and domestic, main-stream and experimental films there with Matt and our other friends. I have a feeling that, once I return to the states, I will soon end up back at school and in the atmosphere I now miss.

Anyway, enough of my nostaligic rambling--we finally entered the movie theater and found our seats. About twenty minutes into the film, I knew that I would not like it very much. And the next two hours proved my intuition correctly. The film, itself, did have some interesting things to say--it was clearly a melodrama, based on Hollywood musical tradition (the star-struck lovers, the conflict, the singing, and the eventual heterosexual coupling at the end--the nuclear family), and dealt with class struggles/differences quite effectively. The plot and writing, however, were both trite and over the top and many of the directorial and cinematic choices were just plain ridiculous. But, perhaps if I had seen more Vietnamese films, I would be critiquing this quite differently. Then again, maybe not.

Well, after seeing the movie and being somewhat disppointed in it, we decided that we would rather spend the rest of our time in Tokyo walking around, getting a good meal, and doing some shopping. So, heading back towards to subway station, we were drawn to a crowd of people lining the street. We realized that there was a red carpet rolled out and a public fashion show taking place before the directors, actors, etc. of the films being shown at the festival appeared. We stood around, trying to peak our heads over the crowd to get a glimpse of the models (and their goofy hair styles) and the actors. After a while, we decided to head out and made our way to the Subway station--gawking at all the nice cars and stylish people passing by us. Getting off the subway at Yoyogi, we decided to take a walk through the park (stopping at the famous Shrine) and then ending up in Harajuku (the famous shopping district of Tokyo). However, as our luck would have it, the park and shrine were closed and so we had to make our way around the park, getting somewhat turned around, and eventually making our way back to Shinjuku station. We hopped on a train, rode to Harajuku station, and walked into a sea of neon lights, hoards of people, and loud music eminating from the hundreds of shops all around.

Deciding that our bellies needed filling, we tried to enter 2 different restaurants (both of which would not admit us because we were a party of 6 and it was a busy Saturday night) and eventually ended up at this great place (recommended by Courtney's friend Jen) run by an Australian. The best part of this restaurant was the fact that they had a vegetarian component to their menu! I think this was probably the first time Matt and I did not have to search the menu, deliberating on whether certain dishes had meat in it or not. We all got drinks and a hummus platter--delicious!--and had a great meal! Matt ordered the vegetable lasagna and I got the veggie casadillas! They were fantastic! We also all got magnificent deserts--they even had pumpkin pie!--and had a great time talking for hours around the table. I also enjoyed looking out the full-length window we were seated in front of, people watching and seeing others eating at the restaurant across the street.

Leaving the restaurant, we proceeded to the main street again, where we did some shopping at Zara (I got a nice, brown turtleneck sweater for winter), and then we decided to make our way back to the station. Thilmin, Matt, and I especially wanted to take the 10pm express train back to Kofu so we could then grab the last train at 11:56pm to Ryuo. So making it back to Shinjuku station, we made it to the express train platform, saw a cute old man doing stretches against a pole, and entered the train. Our ride back, though only 1 hour and 40 minutes, seemed to take forever. Matt and I kept dozing off and he got a headache which made the trip less enjoyable. I did notice, at times when I wasn't nodding off, the stark contrast between Tokyo (with all the lights and buildings crammed together) and Yamanashi (with the distant twinkle of lights on hillsides and long stretches of blackness and farmland). I told Matt that seeing Tokyo again after living in Ryuo for two and a half months gave me a kind of sensory overload. There are so many people there and so many lights and so much noise--it is just stimulus wherever you go! And while I love big cities and wish we were living in one, it was interesting to note this after living in our little, "rural" area.

Overall, we had a great Saturday with Courtney and Thilmin; their company was wonderful and we really got a chance to talk and get to know one another. And while things did not run perfectly for us when we were there and there were some disappointments with the festival, we did have a great time and hope to do it again soon!

The Incredible Adventures of Matt and Julie: Fuji-san!

(Just in case this narrative did not get circulated to everyone, here it is again):

Background info: Fuji-san (aka Mt. Fuji--富士山) is 3,770 meters (12,000 ft.) above sea level. She is the tallest mountain (volcano) in Japan and is the most-climbed mountain in the world (or so I've been told). There are 10 stations on Fuji-san and the 5th station (Kawaguchiko) is a popular spot for many native Yamanashians to start their ascent to the top. From 5th station, it typcially takes between 5 and 7 hours to reach the summit and about 4 hours to descend back to 5th station. If you were to climb Fuji in her entirity, it would probably take you about 20 hours round trip. Climbing season is typically from July-August and Fuji-san is closed to climbers in the winter (unless you are crazy and like to climb in snow). The Japanese people (at least in Yamanashi) have a saying about climbing the mountain: A wise man climbs Fuji-san once. A fool climbs her twice. Keep this all in mind as you read about our exciting adventure atop Fuji-san.

Waking up at 9 am on Saturday morning, Matt and I had much to get ready before our trip to Fuji-san. We made pancakes and eggs for breakfast (we figured a hearty meal would be good before our climb) and then made bags of trailmix (dried bananas, sunflower seeds, walnuts, raisins, other various nuts) and packed our backpacks with extra (warm) clothing and huge liter bottles of water. Picking up my pack, I found it to be very heavy but I figured all the items inside were necessary for the climb (including a few bandaids--just in case). We left our apartment in Ryuo at 2:30, picking up our friends Beth and Thomas along the way. We drove to Fujiyoshida but missed our turn off and ended up in Shizuoka (the prefecture south of Yamanashi). After some frustration and a few wrong turns, we ended up back in Yamanashi and found ourselves at the bottom of the mountain. Paying our fee for parking at the 5th station (Kawaguchiko), we started our ascent towards the middle of Fuji-san. Along the way, we encountered a wild boar in the middle of the road! Beth and I initially thought it was a dog but seeing that it was a boar, we immediately gasped and watched it lumber into the forrest. Needless to say, I felt a bit more nervous knowing I would be hiking (partway) in woods inhabited by these huge, fat, grotesque-looking creatures. But we continued our climb in our little k-car (and with 4 people, 4 backpacks and a tiny engine, I'm sure you can imagine that it took us about 30 minutes to reach our parking spot). As we drove up to Kawaguchiko, though, we saw the sun going down and in the dusk before nightfall, we were privy to beautiful mountain views and watched the clouds roll in over the towns and cities in the valleys below. It was beautiful and made us all the more excited to climb at night.

Finally arriving at Kawaguchiko around 6:30pm, we got out of the car, put on a few warmer clothes (it was already getting chilly) and walked up towards the main plaza (where other JETs were waiting to start their climb). As we walked up the road, we gazed up at the mountain top. Matt commented that it didn't look so bad; I, on the other hand, having never climbed a REAL mountain like this, thought it looked laborious and ominous. But beautiful, very beautiful. We met up with the other JETs and decided to wait to start climbing for a while. We perused in the gift shop, spying items we may want to buy after our climb, and then had a quick snack before leaving. Beth, Thomas, Matt, Jason, Frederick and I began our walk toward the gate at 7:45pm. The first part of our adventure was smooth-sailing, and we took a few moments to take scenic pictures and to gaze in awe at the beautiful full moon reflecting light off the tops of so many waves of clouds. Words can't describe the beauty we saw at the beginning of our trip (and throughout our climb, really). Clouds sitting atop other, smaller mountain peaks, tiny lights twinkling through open patches indicating life living in some small town, placid lakes gleaming in the night sky.

After taking many pictures and ooo-ing and ahhh--ing, we continued. We eventually got separated from our party of adventurous climbers, and Matt and I followed the rocky, gravely path up to the 7th station. Matt, being in good physical shape and having a knack for pacing, kept at a good speed, while I, huffing and puffing after 15 minutes of climbing, began to feel as though I would never make it up this mountain. At times, Matt, grabbing my hand, would literally pull me up the steep inclines. At one point, when I was getting discouraged, he told me he would get me up this mountain if he had to pull me all the way. I thought this both charming and disheartening at the same time. But, after an hour or so of sometimes strenuous paths and loose rocks, we made it to the 7th station. Meeting up with some other JETs (as well as Beth and Thomas), we decided to take a little break and eat a snickers bar. Let me tell you, the taste of chocolate, caramel and peanuts never tasted so good! I think it was the most glorious candy bar I have ever had. As it was getting a bit colder outside, the four of us decided to take a break inside the warming hut and to eat a hearty bowl of ramen. This was also delicious and helped warm us up and gave us good carb fuel. As it was approaching 10pm, we started to feel tired and I looked at Matt's drooping eyes and knew that we were in for a long evening. But after digesting for some time, we decided to continue our ascent. Not 5 feet from the exit of the warming hut, we found, looming down on us, a steep incline full of fallen boulders and possibly delapidated stone steps (it was hard to tell). Turning on my headlamp, I started to slowly inch my way up this trecherous embankment (actually, it wasn't so trecherous--but it wasn't anything that I had expected to do). However, I found that picking my way through rocks and at times crawling on all fours was a more enjoyable and rewarding way to climb (no matter how difficult it was at times). I would much rather be climbing over boulders than slipping through a sea of small lava rocks (which we eventually encountered at the top).

At each station that we passed, we took a small break, paying 100 yen to use the disgusting bathrooms (squat toilets are terrible in the wilderness), buying more water, and talking to other JETs. Around 8th station, we were slightly held up by a group of Japanese pilgrims (or a tour--who can say) who were making their ascent single file (and quite slowly, might I add). Our group took one look at each other, hoisted our packs onto our backs, turned on our head lamps, and began to climb parallel to the pilgrims (passing them all on the righthand side). Thank goodness we didn't get held up behind them, I thought. We might have never made it to the top.

Also, at this point, I staretd to get a slight headache. Drinking more water definitely helped, but the effects of the altitude were certainly wearing on me. My breathing became a little heavier, even though I felt okay, and my heart was definitely pounding harder, even when we were resting. At times, I had to climb very slowly, taking a few steps, resting, taking a few more, and so on. And, by this time--almost 11:30 or midnight, my leg muscles were beginning to show signs of fatigue. I've never quite experienced "the burn" like I did while climbing up Fuji-san. You use muscles you don't even know were there. But it was easy to forget your aches and pains once you looked over the mountain's edge at the valley below. After 8th station, we rarely used our headlamps again. The moon was so bright and brilliant that it lighted our way like a search light. My white tennis shoes were glowing as if we were under a black light--this is how bright and full the moon was. And the clouds--you see pictures from airplanes and mountain tops of seas of clouds and distant city lights, but until you are actually on a mountain, viewing these wonders of nature for yourself, I don't think you can truly appreciate the beauty of the earth. We were so high at one point that we were sure we could also see the curvature of the earth and even witnessed a storm, underneath our elevation, moving from east to west along the ground. Wow.

After we became separated from our other fellow climbers and were on our own, Matt and I developed a rhythm to our climbing. He was always a few meters ahead of me but would wait at the turns to see that I made it up to his point. We caught up to and passed many fellow JETs, some sleeping, some resting, and eventually made it to 9th station. With only some Japanese travelers resting with us, we took a quick reprieve from climbing, posing for pictures at the altitude marker--3,250 meters. Only 500 meters to go! Having a little more troupble breathing, I had to stop and rest more often (if that is even possible) and to drink more water (which I was slowly running out of). Matt started to feel a little out of breath, but continued on, for the most part, as he had done before. We continued climbing, sometimes traversing huge bolders, sometimes slowly plodding up steep, gravel embankments. In the dark, as I was looking up the mountain, wondering where on earth was the top, I could make out the faint sillohuette of a wooden gate. Perhaps this meant we were nearing the top! Of course, getting my hopes up, I started to climb a little faster. This was a mistake. I had to quickly slow back down to my turtle pace and reach the gate in my own good time. When we finally got there (meeting up with Beth, Thomas and Frederick), Matt took my picture (I was hugging the wooden pillar with both gladness and exhaustion) and then I snapped one of him (he looked much more awake and spunky than I did). We entered through the gate, talked with Frederick for some time, and then we continued to climb, going slowly around the switchbacks and slipping ever so often on loose rocks. As we continued to climb, not knowing where exactly the top would be, we found that breathing was becoming more of an issue. I think one of the weirdest feelings in the world is to know that you are breathing (and breathing heavy) but to feel as though you aren't getting enough air. So, we slowed down even more, frequently resting for a few seconds, and our ascent fell to a snail's pace at points. Looking up the mountain during one of these brief rests, I could see the twinkle of head lamps snaking up the mountain. Inside, I felt that we had to be close. At this point, Matt and I wanted so desperately to be at the top, to bunker down in a warming hut, to get an hour or two of sleep before sunrise, and to replenish our water. So, we continued up the mountainside, panting and resting--each step bringing us closer to the 3,770 meter mark.

Around 2 or 2:30pm, we encountered 2 ominous looking lion statues in front of another wooden gate. Painted white, these statues gave me the chills as I passed between them. But looking up, I couldn't see any lights--this was not just another rest stop--another 10th station--this was the top!!!! Climbing the last set of stairs to the summit, Matt and I felt both exhilerated and exhausted. Reaching the summit, we gave each other a congratulatory pat on the back and started to walk around, trying to find a warming hut for us to rest in. As we walked down the path (level ground finally!!!), we saw tents pitched and people sleeping against the huts--but not inside. Feeling uneasy about this (and finally noticing that there was no smoke coming from the roofs of these tiny stone houses), we came to the sad conclusion that the huts were not open. Thus, we would not be getting any warmth, any rest, or any water. This, I probably do not need to say, was a bummer.

So, after looking around, glancing at the crater, and meeting up with some of our fellow climbers, we found a place beside a hut and, putting on the last of our warm clothing, decided to try to take a nap for an hour before sunrise. However, the longer we sat still, the more we shivered--you could hear the rattling of our teeth as we laid on the cold ground, trying to warm ourselves. It was around this time that Matt began to feel extremely nauseous. He told me that he had been getting waves of nausea as we were climbing the last few feet but that he hadn't thought anything of it. But now, as we sat shivering and freezing at the summit, with no shelter or water, his nausea had come around full swing. After sitting there for a few minutes, I realized that we needed to get up and move around, to stay warm. My toes and my fingers were starting to ache and Matt's breathing was slightly irregular. So, dragging him up from his resting place, we started to walk around. But with each step, he felt worse and worse and with each step I became more and more frozen. It was only 3:45--sunrise was not until 4:30 or 5am. At this point, I began to feel a bit uneasy. And all Matt wanted to do was to get off the top of the mountain and to get back home. Unfortunately, we didn't know the correct way down--were we supposed to descend the same way we came up? But I thought I had heard that there was a specific descending route. And there was no way I was going to go it alone with Matt--especially since he was feeling so sick. I, at least, had enough brains left to realize that would be a very unsafe and dangerous situation. As we took a break, resting on a rock ledge, I stopped shivering. This also made me very uncomfortable--I was worried about getting hypothermia and I knew that when you stop feeling cold after being frozen, this is not a good sign. So, we got up again and began walking. We paced up and down the main path, unable to enjoy or cherish the beauty of the view, unable to make the hour trek around the crater, unable to do anything but to live through each minute, to wait until the sun began to peak her head over the dense cloud cover. Needless to say, it was the longest hour of our lives.

Finally, the darkness, which had been such a part of our climbing lives, began to lift and we could see, faintly on the horizon, the dim purplish fuzz outlining the clouds. We found a place to sit, to witness this event--the event we struggled up a huge volcanic mountain to witness. As the sky began to take on a rainbow of colors and the sun's rays began to poke up through the clouds, we tried desperately to keep our minds clear, to shut out the numbness and nausea, to take in the beauty unfolding before us. And even though we were unable to completely divorce ourselves from our physical suffering, we were able to admit that this sunrise, on top of a 12,000 foot mountain, was the most beautiful and awe-inspiring scene we had ever seen in the course of our lives. Finally seeing the sun peak her head over the cloud--the brilliant reddish-yellow of her dazzling surface--drew out an "ahhhhh" from the people congregated on Fuji's summit. As the sky brightened and the light began to fall on Fuji's surface, I looked at Matt's face--pale and sickly looking. He tried to smile but quickly turned and told me that he needed to get off the mountain now. Taking him seriously, we found our friend Jason perched high on a rock. He snapped a few pictures of us (for posterity--to prove we were really there) and then we began our descent--going down the same way we came up. The sunrise atop Fuji-san, though brief for us, will be something forever engrained in our memories.

The descent. What a nightmare! We started to climb down the unstable lava rocks around 5:30 or 6am (it's hard to remember--I think we were all a bit delirious). Matt started to book it down the mountain, running and dodging climbers still trying to make it to the mountain top. Jason and I, taking a much slower and cautious pace, rested at times and took pictures of the sun-soaked mountain side. Beautiful. I hadn't noticed the the dirt and rocks on Fuji-san were primarily red and the bright sunlight bouncing off the mountain's surface cast a cheerful and oven-like glow over everything. As we continued our trecherous decent (trying to hold onto tiny ropes and chains so as not to slide down the face of the mountain), we noticed a bulldozed path about 500 feet from us--with tons of people descending. Hitting ourselves on the head for choosing the incorrect path, we finally made it down to 9th station, picked up the resting Matt and beelined it over to smoother pathway--thinking this would be much more preferable to the other route. Boy, were we wrong!

The "real" descending route was wide and smooth, but it had the slight fault of being extremely slippery (consisting mainly of ground up lava rocks with no grip) and after slipping and sliding down the side of the mountain for about 30 minutes, we felt exhausted, dehydrated (party due to the sun beating down on us on all sides), and sore. At one point, we had to sadly leave our friend Jason meticulously climbing down the mountain. His knee was giving him a lot of pain and so he had to zigzag down the steep paths--taking care not to slip and hurt himself. Since Matt was still feeling terrible, we went on ahead, half jogging, half falling down the steep declines and taking only brief rests at each switchback turn. I can't exactly remember when I started to feel as though I would never reach the bottom but I think it was after the marker that read " 4.5 km to 5th Station." It seemed like hours ago we had passed a sign reading "5.0 km to 5th Station" so when I saw that progress was hardly being made and that my body was starting to reject the steep declines and various pressures I had to put on it to get me closer to our final destination, I started to cry. Yes, I cried on Mt. Fuji. But it was brief (I didn't want all the other hikers to notice my weakness) and I continued my slow descent. Matt , feeling much better by 7th station, tried his hardest to encourage me, to tell me that I was doing great and that we'd be there in no time. However, I was pissed off, tired, hungry, thirsty, and I felt as though my legs would turn into jelly at any moment. So, despite his kind words and encouragement, I was set on loathing this mountain for the rest of my life. I cursed it and kicked the small rocks and had a fit as I continued to brace my body and descend.

We reached somewhat level ground around 8am. I was so thankful for this, but it came too soon. After ascending a small hill (which was a pleasantly easy and comfortable climb), Matt and I realized that we still had at least another 30 minutes to do until we reached Kawaguchiko. I almost lost it. But, to spare all the whiney details and the curse words, we eventually DID make it down to 5th station, where we promptly bought 2 bottles of Pocari Sweat (a sports drink) and collapsed on the rocky plaza ground, thankful to have made it down the mountain alive. After waiting for 2 hours until the other two members of our carppool made it down the mountain (by the way, we made it down in around 3 hours time--and were the first 2 gaijin off the mountain), we began to feel much better and even felt the desire to take a picture in front of the mountain peak. We made a long and tiring drive home, where we entered our suana of an apartment, took showers, and crashed on the futon for about 2 hours. I have never felt so terrible in all of my life as I did after climbing that mountain. And I can't remember the last time I went to bed at 8pm and slept for a full 10.5 hours. But I did on Sunday night. And on Monday, I was at work, bright and early--tired, sore and sunburnt, but alive. And with a great story to tell.

Our First Post from Japan--only 2 months late!

Wow, can it be? Can I really have figured out how to use this thing? Probably not but we'll see. I still don't know how to add pictures to the blog, so if anyone who is more "blog" savvy than I knows how to do so, I would appreciate any help whatsoever! :)

Well, Matt and I have been in Japan (日本） since July 30th, 2006 and are finally settled in, have a routine established (at least for the weekdays when we are teaching for 8-10 hours a day), and are becoming more and more adventurous each week we are residents of this island country. However, I shouldn't candy-coat any of this--we had rough moments when we first got here and there were many dinners salted with tears and hours wondering why we ever chose to come to such a godforsakenly hot area of the world. But, just as the summer heat and humidity gradually subsides, so too does our extreme culture shock and intense feelings of isolation and sadness. With the cooler September and October weather and the more frequent views of Fuji-san from our balcony, we have come to appreciate our little spot in Yamanashi-ken (山梨県) and our amazing opportunity to live and work abroad in a culture both vastly different and unsettling similar to America.

I hope most of you have been receiving the emails I've sent the past few months. In case you haven't (and you would still like to read about all the "firsts" we've experienced here), please email me at jafaulhaber@gmail.com and I will forward those on to you. Perhaps I will find a way (again, any help would be greatly appreciated) to link those emails onto here (or to at least copy and paste--that, I think, I can handle on my own). Either way, I'll find a way to update you more fully than I can right now.

However, let me run through a brief recap of all we have done, just in case you are curious or, like me, have already forgotten what happened in the last 2 months:

-saw Tokyo (東京) for the first time--I cannot even begin to explain to you how MASSIVE this city is. I hope to go back many times to get a better sense of it myself.
-discovered that the Japanese drink amazing cold teas (oocha--王茶)! So far, I have gulped down these types: oolong, green tea (macha), wheat, barely, lemon tea, jasmine, and milk tea.
-came to Yamanashi-ken; found our apartment in Ryuo (竜王) (in Kai-shi); hated every minute we had to sit in our dirty, hot, suana-like residence; cleaned; threw out trash and other items; made it our own; enjoy it much more now.
-felt isolation, culture shock and regret all at once--NOT recommended.
-got our first piece of international mail--and every time we get a letter or box now, it still feels as exciting as that first time.
-went to karaoke (multiple times).
-got my keitai (cellphone) and was amazed by the spiffy graphics and emailing functions. I've also come to appreciate keitai straps (cute little bangles you attach to your cellphone--what can I say, I adapt well on some levels).
-saw my first buddhist temple (Kuonji Temple) and climbed the 287 vertical, stone steps to Nirvana. I also saw my first koi in the ponds around the temple.
-climbed Mt. Minobu with a bunch of ALT friends. My first "mountain" climb of my life!
-had my first camping experience ever at Motosuko (Lake Motosu)--found that sleeping on volcanic rock is not so fun but I survived and wouldn't be opposed to camping again in the near future.
-gave my first speech in Japanese in front of my school--students and staff. Got a round of applause even though I am sure I butchered most of the words.
-taught my first class; made my first lesson plan; realized that all my students DON'T look the same--even though they have the same hair color and uniforms.
-climbed Mt. Fuji!!!!! Yes, I did! I can't believe I am still alive, though. If you haven't gotten my email about Fuji-san, I will send it to you. I don't think I have enough energy to recount it here. But let me say, in retrospect, seeing the sunrise atop that huge volcano was pretty awesome--I'm not going to lie.
-saw and entered my first authentic Japanese castle, Matsumoto-jo. AMAZING! I can't wait to see more!
-experienced onsen twice; can't wait to go with Megan again!
-ate a bunch of sushi (すし), tempura (天ぷら), rice (ごはん) and udon (うどん)!
-rode the shinkansen (bullet train).
-visited Kobe and the Oue family. Went to Osaka and also saw the "Rainbow Bridge."
-went to many festivals--Katsunuma Wine Festival, Paul Rausch County Festival in Kiyosato, Ichikawadaimon Fireworks Festival.
-discovered manju (little floury balls with sweet bean paste inside--a tasty little snack!).
-harvested rice--I used both a hand sickle and a special bundling machine to cut the rice stalks.
-sat through my first Japanese drama--Gojira (Godzilla). Had a very hard time understanding what was happening and have come to the conclusion that Japanese drama (just like Japanese television) is out of control!
-saw monkeys in Kobe's China Town; felt bad for them all dressed up in their little outfits.
-drove on the opposite side the road--I was terrified at first but now it is very natural.

Oh geez, I can't think of it all tonight. Needless to say, we've been keeping busy, meeting new people (both other foreigners and some Japanese as well), traveling around, and eating lots and lots of amazing Japanese food!

It is now 8pm on Thursday night and I will probably wind this up. I have had a long day of teaching--my students are learning the parts of the body and phrases for visiting the doctor--and I have some things to do here before bed (which, by the way, is three futons piled up on the floor--oh to have a regular bed again!). I hope that, from tonight on, I will be able to use this more as a journal and less as an unofficial email to everyone reading what I write. I can't promise that I will update it every day, but I will try to at least write something once or twice a week. For now, just know that we are adjusting and miss you all so much!

J&M