Autumn Leaves

On my way to the airport in Chicago, I met the Japanese speaker who had delivered his oration to the departing JETs the night before at the hotel. He had been funny and engaging, and had made me excited about traveling to Japan. In the bus, he sat next to me and began to talk, asking me where I was heading.
"Yamanashi," I said.
"Ah, Yamanashi," he replied. "Mountain, nothing." He explained that "Yamanashi" literally means "Mountain, Pear," but that "nashi" was also the phonetic pronunciation of the Japanese word for "nothing." Thus, the joke is that Yamanashi prefecture has mountains...and not much else.
It's funny because it's true.
Ok, ok, it's not quite that bad. Not quite. But, in any event, that anecdote seems appropriate before I begin talking about Autumn Leaves, and my spontaneous excursion, with Julie, into the mountains of Yamanashi and out of the nothing.

My bedtime, most nights, is 10 o' clock sharp, and Friday night was no exception. The nice thing about an early bedtime is that you wake up early and you have the whole day ahead of you. A novel idea, I know. But for a recent college graduate, this is a little more profound than you might otherwise imagine.

At 7:30 am, on Saturday, I awoke to a frigid apartment. After throwing on some clothes, casting open the curtains to observe a beautiful morning, and eating some breakfast, I pulled Julie out the door with me and into our small car. The plan was to drive south to the area around my second school and observe the leaves. Twice a week I make a 45 minute journey down south to the Western side of Yamanashi and enter Kyonan town where my second school is located. I have a CD player in the car, but I use it sparingly during the week because my students can be pretty loud so I try to preserve my ear drums for a more noise-controlled environment, like my house. Thus, I have little else to do during the drive but to watch Japan roll by. Luckily, during autumn, my drive is stunning. Up until that Saturday, I had not been able to document the beauty that I see daily. I knew I had to make an effort to take pictures--I couldn't let this opportunity slip away. Soon the leaves would be gone, and so too would my autumn in Japan. I needed to seize the opportunity and so I did.

Julie and I drove south and made it to route 52 which winds around mountain passes alongside the Fujikawa river. I was thoroughly unimpressed with the river the first time I drove this route, as I had been with many of Japan's waterways. Japanese rivers are almost universally controlled and covered in concrete, as are many Japanese mountainsides--a rather large shock when one considers the more popular and traditional image of Japan as a natural paradise. The vast concrete jungles of Tokyo and Osaka did not develop in a vacuum--they have simply moved outwards into almost all of habitable Japan.
At any rate, today the Fujikawa was lit by the sun and its blue waters were indeed beautiful. I pulled the car over to take pictures by the river bed, and then we drove further south.
In Kyonan, we parked near an Onsen and began to walk around. This part of Yamanashi is really stunning--any flat ground is necessarily cultivated or concreted and made livable, but in Kyonan, the narrow town (maybe 200 meters wide by 5 miles long!) winds like a snake through the valley created by a large mountain range. In the morning, steam rises from the streams and farmers burn their rubbish in the fields. This town, cut off by the mountains, is a magical place, made even more magical by the bright autumn colors: the crimson, gold and rust colors completely dominate one's vision.
As Julie and I crossed a bridge to get a photo, we noticed an elderly man headed our way. "Ohayoo Gozaimasu" we said. "Ohayoo," he replied, evidently surprised to be talking with foreigners. 5ft tall, he trudged by us carrying a bamboo pole nearly 15 meters long. A few minutes later, after he was out of sight, we heard the echoing sound of that great weight being dropped as he reached his destination.
At this point, Julie and I decided we could either turn back now for lunch, or keep going, up and over the mountains toward Motosu lake. Since we had come this far, we both thought it might be fun to keep going, to be spontaneous and take a mountain drive. And so, we set out in our tiny K-car, with an engine the size of a microwave, over the mountain towards the lake. Two or three times I had to pull over to let other drivers pass us as we inched our way towards the summit. Other times we stopped to take pictures of the beautiful view, of mountains shaped like sand dunes in a brilliant kaleidoscope of autumn color. In the distance, we could see other fantastically high mountains, like Shirane-san, snowcapped anomalies among the fall colors. Finally we reached the last peak and I switched out of 2nd gear and back into "drive" on the automatic transmission to coast down the other side towards the mouth of the tunnel.
As we careened out into the sunlight, both Julie and I gasped at the sight of an awesome Mt. Fuji before us, towering over the still water of the lake.


Viewing Mt. Fuji in person is truly a breathtaking experience. From a distance, the mountain is absolutely immense--almost unfathomably so, compared with the sometimes humble surroundings. Julie and I were viewing Fuji-san from the north looking south, so the sun had back-lit the mountain, creating a magical blue hue that perfectly complimented the stunning lake Motosu. The picturesque symmetry is astounding--it's no wonder that famous Japanese art styles tend to be minimalist, one observes, when looking at a scene like this in contemporary nature.
After taking our fill of the gorgeous surroundings, Julie and I headed back over the mountain and into town. We stopped for tempura soba noodles at a road-side restaurant and continued home. We made our way back to Ryuo and took a stroll in the wooded park near our house, which was also brilliantly colored and beautiful in the Saturday sunlight.

Much of our daily experience so far has been fairly linear and comparatively uneventful, only punctuated by moments like these. I often find myself very self aware of the fact that I am in an active process of shaping my memories for the future, with the photos I take and words I write. What I directly observe will not always remain in my memory--it's what I document that will help me recall experiences and events many years from now. Even as I was photographing Fuji that day, I imagined myself looking at copies of those photographs and wondered how I would react to them later. The preservation of a moment seems to be a goal for many people, and I am no different in this respect. I hope, however, that I can learn to control this premature nostalgia, and to truly enjoy a moment for its own sake, on its own terms. In the meantime, I will be photographing and documenting and reflecting and shaping my memories of this land of mountains and nothing.

These Boots Were Made For Walking...

Saturday, November 4th was no ordinary weekend day. The alarm clock beeped loudly at 6:30am and the shower, typically traveling between steaming hot and freezing cold, turned on shortly thereafter. Fumbling in the semi-dark for my favorite jeans, shirt and light-weight sweater, I could hardly believe I was up this early. But, I kept reminding myself, it was for a good reason--Tokyo. Ever since Matt and I had accompanied our friends Courtney and Thilmin to the Tokyo International Film Festival, we had wanted to return for a more "touristy" weekend, and this just happened to be the one. So, as I hastily dressed, I wondered what time I should wake up Matt and our friend Jason, who had made camp in our living room. Finally mustering up the courage to awaken Jason (Matt soon arose after my constant rummaging and closing of doors), I told him it was 7am and that we should think about heading down to the train station soon. So, after a quick breakfast (it was so quick, I don't even remember what it was I stuffed into my mouth), we packed up our backpacks and locked the front door before starting our ten minute walk to Ryuo-eki. As we walked down our street, taking care not to walk into the open water gutters and feeling the crisp autumn air stinging our cheeks, I felt so excited to be on my way back to Tokyo.

Entering the train station, we crossed the tracks and boarded the Kaiji Limited Express bound for Shinjuku Station. Finding some open seats, Matt, Jason and I turned one pair of seats around, so we could face each other, and settled in for the hour and 40 minute ride into the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. The morning sun felt warm and inviting as we waited for the conductor to start the train on its way. After showing our tickets (a special "weekend pass") to one of the train attendants, I tried to read a little in my book, A Child In Time by Ian McEwan, but the constant funneling through tunnels and pressure changes made me a little nauseous, so I decided trying to nap might be a more fruitful and easier task. I sat there with my eyes closed, feeling the slight swaying of the train as it zipped by small stations and made its occasional stop at larger towns to pick up other Tokyo-bound passengers. And before I knew it, streets densely packed with buildings and skyscrapers in the now-misty distance signaled our rapid approach into Shinjuku Station. When the conductor's voice softly cooed that Shinjuku was our next stop, we got out of our seats, grabbed our backpacks from overhead, and made our way to the nearest door. Tokyo was only a few seconds away and we were ready to embrace it the minute we exited the train.

We stepped onto the platform at Shinjuku Station and were immediately engulfed in a sea of people making their way to the tiny, descending escalator. Giving way to the pushing around us, we glided down the escalator and into a large lobby-esque area, where, gaining our bearings, we found our way to the Yamanote Green Line (which makes a huge loop around Tokyo). First on our list of hundreds of things to do was to see the Meiji Shrine in Yoyogi Park. We needed to take the train to the Harajuku Station and then make our way into the park. However, the trains were packed, the platforms teeming with people trying to cram into the train cars, and in all the mayhem, Jason and I lost Matt--who had jumped into one car just as the doors were closing. So, Jason and I patiently waited for the next train to arrive and hoped that Matt would still get off at Harajuku Station. In five minutes, we took our turn packing into the train and heading toward Harajuku. Luckily, Matt was waiting on the platform for us when we arrived, and we three began our small trek to Yoyogi Park, taking care to note the Harajuku "punks" getting their "costumes" ready for a day of craziness.

Yoyogi Park was beautiful in the late morning's hazy sunlight, and approaching Meiji Shrine, the sun broke out in full force, casting a brilliant light on the wooden gate beckoning visitors into the shrine. At Meiji, we were fortunate enough to see a few weddings. We saw, inside the main shrine, a wedding service unfold and heard the monks ringing the huge bell inside. Then, as we were turning to leave the shrine, a wedding recessional began in front of us, and joining the crowd of family, friends, and curious spectators, we watched as the bride and groom ceremoniously strutted through the maid courtyard and away into the dense forest outside the wooden gate. Feeling as though we were just a part of something extremely "Japanese," we happily left the shrine and headed back into the noisy and chaotic streets of Harajuku.

Next stop: the Imperial Palace, the residence of the royal family. Yet, I should probably mention one important issue casting a dark and somewhat ominous cloud over me and Matt: we did not, as of 11:30am, have a place to stay for the night. We had been unable to book a hotel online before we went to Tokyo and, wanting to take the full advantage of our weekend pass, had debated about just staying up all night in a club, or finding a manga cafe, renting a room and trying to sleep for a few hours, taking the latest train home to Kofu that night, or attempting to find someone to help us book a hotel. Well, as we exited the Tokyo station (on our way to the Imperial Palace) we found a JR Travel Services office, went inside, and in a matter of 20 minutes or so, we had a place to stay in Ikebukuro and no longer had to silently stress about accommodations for the night. Thus, wild and carefree (well, maybe not "wild" but certainly more carefree than earlier in the day), we headed toward the palace. However, our stomachs got the best of us, and we stopped for a brief and tasty lunch at a little French restaurant---which, I would like to add, we were WAY under dressed to be in. Well, after lunch, we finally made it to the palace grounds--a beautiful, quiet garden in the middle of one of the world's largest cities. Of course, you cannot actually get close enough to see the palace, but we did see the wall and gate leading into it and were fortunate enough to see the changing of the guards as well. I think it must be a very boring job, but as Jason mentioned, it is most likely considered an extremely high honor to be protecting the emperor of Japan (never mind the fact that he has no real power so to speak). But, he's still "important" so I'm sure it is a position of honor.

Well, there is only so much one can take of a bridge, gate and stone wall, so after snapping a few nice photos, we continued on to see the Parliment (Deit) Building and then tried to make it to Tokyo Tower (which, sadly, we never did get that close to). Winding our way through the surprisingly quite streets, passing the different Ministry buildings with guards at each entrance, we stumbled upon a cute little park, with a bronze crane water fountain and beautiful fall colors. We strolled through the park (as most people in parks do) and what did we come upon but a small little wine festival (snugged tightly in the center of the park). We entered the festival grounds, bought our wine glasses for 700 yen a piece and began to sample the various wines. A little while into the tasting, we realized that this was specifically a Yamanashi Wine Festival--how ironic! We found a few wines that were more to our drier tastes (Japanese wines tend to be very sweet--a little too much so for my liking) and, filling up our glasses, we found a shaded area to rest, eat some raisins, and savor our drinks. We sat in our little grassy spot for a few minutes and then decided that we should head to Ikebukuro, to check into our hotel, drop off our bags, take a shower, and prepare for the rest of our evening. So, snaking through the festival once again, we made it to the exit, turned left down a small shopping street, stopped into the International Building (shaped much like a huge boat), and even happened to find Godzilla. Stepping onto the train once again, I began to feel the slight, persistent aching in my legs. I hadn't thought much of it before, but thinking now, we had walked a fair distance in just the four hours we were in Tokyo and Matt and I had walked a lot the day before at Shosenkyo. So sitting on the train became quite a luxurious event!

Laying down on a real bed has never felt so good as it did upon entering our hotel room! While Matt and Jason took showers, I stretched out on the bed, a huge can of Coke in my left hand, and channel surfed through crazy Japanese game shows, melodramatic soap operas and the one station in English: CNN International. So, resting for a little over an hour, we made our way back to the train station, now bathed in the glow from the numerous neon lights of the surrounding buildings, and, hopping on to the nearest train, made our way back to Harajuku, where a delicious western dinner awaited us at the restaurant, Fujimamas. Our legs, growing more and more sore with each block, were allowed an hour and a half's rest as we partook of bean chili, fancy drinks, and delectable appetizers in the little restaurant on a busy side street of Harajuku. Leaving Fujimamas with full bellies and huge grins, we briefly stopped by The Gap. Jason and I did some shopping while Matt digested his food outside on the stoop. Soon, we were off again, this time heading back to Shinjuku to view all the lights and to try to find both the red light and gay districts. We were successful in seeing more lights then our eyes could possibly take in and found the red light district (which, though there were no prostitutes hanging around lamp posts and such, was sleezy nonetheless with gangs of voracious men standing in the middle of intersections and Yakuza-looking business men gaily roaming the sidewalks). However, as the minutes ticked away and the street blocks became less and less crowded with hoards of people, our legs began their complaint and caused us excruciating pain with each bend of the knee and each touch of the pavement below. So, having walked for almost 12 hours, we unanimously called it a night, trudged back to the train station, swayed on the train back to Ikebukuro, painfully shuffled back to our hotel, and collapsed into an exhausted stooper. Tomorrow would be a new day, we thought. We will be refreshed and rejuvinated, we hoped. We will be able to at least walk to the train station, we worried.

Waking on Sunday morning, I knew right away, limping to the shower only 10 feet away, that I would not be able to do any more "touring" and would probably need to think about grabbing an earlier train home. Once we were all dressed and somewhat awake, we discussed our various options and decided that if we could grab an earlier train, we would like to take advantage of that and get back to Yamanashi while it was still light outside. So, after a hearty hotel breakfast, we checked out and, backpacks in tow, began the now-familiar walk to the Ikebukuro train station. Passing the buildings that, just hours ago had been a flame with various neon colors, the vastness and greatness of Tokyo began to set in. People would continue to pass these buildings all day and then at night, they would pass them again, in all their neon glory. It really is amazing to think how many people walk Tokyo's streets in one day, in one hour, in one second. This is what I was thinking as we entered the station.

Having a few hours to kill before the next Kaiji Limited Express left for Kofu, we meandered on over to the Tokyo Municipal Government Buildings in the heart of Shinjuku. Approaching the huge steel and glass towers, I became dizzy even looking up at the glistening structures (but that might have also been partly due to the exhaustion I was still feeling from the previous day). Anyway, we took some pictures and then decided to ascend the northern tower, in hopes of seeing the city laid out for us like a huge toy grid of buildings and more buildings. At the top (some 40 stories up), we had our pick of views--windows surrounded the small cafe island in the middle of the floor. Taking pictures and ooing and awwing, we then made our way down the 40 some flights, left the building and walked back to the station. By this time, my legs were killing me and I couldn't wait to be on the train and back in my little, ugly town. So we made the trip back (after taking a quick picture with a huge Monkey at the station) and had the rest of the afternoon to recuperate. So, while we would have liked to explore even more parts of Tokyo, we did accomplish a lot in the small amount of time we were there. And now we have even more reasons to go back and experience Tokyo all over again!

Shosenkyo Photo Essay

Friday, November 3rd was a national holiday here in Japan. To celebrate a day off from school, Matt and I decided to drive up to Shosenkyo Park (which is north of Kofu). There is a lovely walk in the gorge that leads to a beautiful waterfall, and with autumn being so extended this year, we thought a nice nature walk would be the perfect way to spend a Friday off from school. Here is our Shosenkyo walk, brought to you in via photo-essay.

Arriving at the Shosenkyo parking area around 2pm on Friday afternoon, Matt and I decided to get a bite to eat at a soba shop. However, we didn't really know how to read the menu and ended up ordering two huge meals. We not only got soba (which was delicious) but also a bowl of rice, lots of different veggies, and, yes, a fish--head, tail, skin and all! Needless to say, I did my best to dig some of the meat out of the fish, but once I saw that the organs were still inside, I decided that I had had enough. Soon we were on our way, on the paved path up the gorge to the waterfall.

We began our leisurely ascent as the sun was starting to fall from the sky. The path lay above a rushing stream dotted with gigantic boulders and lined by lush green, yellow and red-leaved trees. The sun was still warm and it felt good to be outside, inhaling the semi-sweet fall air--the kind of air that smells of decaying leaves and clean water. I asked Matt to pose for a picture and while the scenery isn't as magnificent here as in other spots along our walk, I think his smile captures our mood throughout the afternoon.

The boulders in the stream almost had an alien-looking quality to them. They were so smooth and so uniquely shaped that it was hard to imagine they had fallen off the mountains so many years ago!










The colors and scenery kept getting more and more beautiful as we ascended the gorge. We stopped frequently, snapping shots of each other or of the beautiful smattering of fall colors along the path and intermixed with the dark green of fir trees. I think that, in about a week, the path up to the waterfall will be overwhelmed with a dazzling autumn palette of colors.













Around every corner and over every little hill, brilliant red leaves popped out of the surrounding green landscape like crimson flames.

Horse carts crossed out path frequently, carrying weary (or lazy) passengers back down to the main parking area. We came across three or four of these gentle giants on our way to the waterfall. I had to resist the urge to give each horse a small little pat--they were so sweet looking. This driver, though, looked as though he were possibly a little drunk. We had a good laugh about this after Matt took this picture and then continued our trek.

By 3pm, we were both growing tired and the sun was starting to disappear behind the tall ridges of the surrounding hills and mountains. However, the impending dusk did not thwart our plans of making it up to the famed waterfall, and as we got closer to our destination, the landscape slowly became rockier. This giant precipice loomed over us, casting its dark shadow over the paved walkway. But the smoothness of the rock-face baffled me and, again, I felt as though I had entered an alien world. The enormity and foreignness of these rocks is hardly done justice by any photo (though I think this ones rather successfully achieves the real effect).

























Nearing the falls, we passed through rock archways, marveled at the clearness of the stream, ducked under rock overhangs, and took time to enjoy the beauty of the gorge. Our trip had been completely worth it, thus far, and as we turned the corner, we were about the reap the fruits of our hour's labor: the waterfall.

Tucked between two rocky edges, the streaming waterfall--sparkling white--caused the crowds of people on the path to stare with awe and wonder. Cameras were flashing pictures of both young and old couples, and the word "kirei" (pretty) sounded among the rows of people walking by. Leaning over the railing, staring at this natural thing of beauty, Matt and I felt very satisfied with our decision to explore the gorge above the sometimes ugly city of Kofu and to discover the secret beauty of Yamanashi-ken.













We climbed the stone stairs leading to the top of the waterfall, where a cute little touristy village lay in hiding. Four sweet Japanese girls took our picture in front of this beautiful fall tree, and after eating some soft cream and poking in and out of the little trinket shops, we descended the stairs and returned to our waterfall-view. After failing to find a Japanese person would could take a descent picture of the two of us in front of the falls, I decided to get a picture of just Matt and the falls, and I think it turned out quite well. We were both very happy to be out and exploring nature and I hope that our Shosenkyo day trip will be a happy memory for years to come!

Mid-Year Conference: "The Nash" Style

Monday, October 30th, 2006: Instead of getting up early, fumbling around in a half-daze, trying to make my way to the shower, and trotting off to another week at Shirane High School, I got up feeling refreshed after a nice, relaxing weekend and made my way (with the other Yamanashi ALTs) to the Misaka Educational Center for our Mid-Year Conference. While two days of listening to lectures and attending workshops is not always the most exciting event you could think of, it was really nice to see the other ALTs once again and to have a few days hiatus from teaching. Monday's conference began with a 3-hour presentation about "mining for your virtures." While certain concepts of this somewhat hippie-ish program were interesting, it was, needless to say, way too long and by 12:30pm, I was ready for a good, long lunch break. The afternoon sessions were a little better, but boredom had set in around 3pm and I was only too glad when the last questions were asked and we were dismissed to venture on over to the hotel where we would all be staying the night.

Our hotel, a more traditional Japanese hotel (ryoken style), was very quaint and comfortable. I shared a large tatami room with four other ALTs: Megan, Kat, Julia and Grace. When we first arrived, Megan and I headed over to Matt's room and played some cards with him and two of his roomies, Mike and Lee. By the time dinner was ready, we had a room full of people engaged in a heated game of rummy.

Dinner was, by far, the most amazing thing I have eaten in a long time! Entering a big tatami room, we encountered rows upon rows of small, individual tables with mountains of different bowls, plates and bottles arranged pristinely on wooden trays. Matt, Jason, and I joined the other vegetarian JETs at our designated seats and prepared to enjoy our delicious feast! We were served hot sake and even had a geisha entertain us for a short time. The servers kept bringing out more food and hot tea and soon I felt at the point of being uncomfortably full. So, when Matt and Jason took off to enjoy the rooftop onsen, Megan and I headed back to our room, where we laid down on the futons and digested a bit.


By 8 or 9pm, the majority of the JETs had already started what would prove to be a long night of drinking and lewd behavior. And me, being the kind of "prude" I am, decided to skip this part of the night and instead ventured out to the nearest conbini (convenience store) to buy some tea and snacks. Sitting in the hotel lobby with some other, less crazy ALTs, we could hear the commotion of the other ALTs loud and clear. I was starting to worry that I might never get any rest, but by 12:30am, when I settled down for the night, the nose was less obtrusive and I slept very well.

Tuesday, October 31st, 2006: Waking at 6:30am, Megan and I decided to head up to the onsen to wash and take a quick bath before breakfast. It was very nice to be able to leisurely wake up in the hot, stone bath and to have some time to talk with Megan. After dressing, I met Matt in the breakfast room, filled my tray with salad, fruit, bread, dumplings, veggies, and a hot cup of coffee, and sat down to eat. I was so full, still, from the night before that I could hardly finish my plate of food and had to finally abandon it to return to my room, collect my belongings, and to check out of the hotel.

Before heading off for the second day of conferences, Matt, Megan, Mark and I strolled around the little hotel garden and snapped a lot of pictures of the koi swimming in the little pond (Matt's most favorite Japanese "wildlife" to photograph). Then, making our way to the Misaka Educational Center once again, we began our second day of conferences (which went much better than the first and were, for the most part, interesting and informative).

I think sometimes, though, when I attend things like this where a large group of very unique individuals are gathered, I tend to become annoyed with some of the immature actions, behaviors and comments that are made during the lectures and workshops. I really do try to be open-minded with all these different people, but at times I feel flung back into my RA training days, when people were rude and disruptive and generally annoying. And while I didn't feel exactly like this during mid-year, I was certainly glad to walk through the apartment door with Matt and to have a moment of peace and quiet in my own home. I definitely think I enjoy seeing the other JETs in smaller groups rather than in one lump sum. But, overall, it was a nice change from our routine and staying in a hotel and being fed dinner and breakfast isn't half bad either.

(On a side note, even though I was in conferences during Halloween and didn't really get a chance to celebrate, we did get lots of fun Halloween goodies from family and friends and still found some time to enjoy the holiday!)