The Japan Experience

I'm Krazy for Kimonos!

2007-06-04T18:41:00.002+09:00

On Saturday, June 2nd, Matt and I (along with our friend Jason) were invited to the Ogino family's house to dabble in the art of okonomiyaki-making and to get the chance to wear traditional Japanese dress. Spending the entire day with the Ogino's was a wonderful experience for us, one that words alone cannot illustrate. Thus, here are some pictures from our Saturday extravaganza!

This is our somewhat botched attempt at making our own okonomiyaki. While it looks like a sloppy mess, this is one of the most delicious (and easy) dishes we've tasted in Japan. The Ogino's are also farmers and the vegetables on the right-hand side of this picture come from their greenhouses. They were, to say the least, out of this world!

Matt and his okonomiyaki creation (before he completed devoured it). Itadakimasu!

After our amazing (and overly-filling) lunch, it was time to put on the kimono! What an intricate process. Ogino-san took me into a tiny front room where I had to first put up my hair. Then, she handed me a small smock to put on. This tied twice around my torso and came to about my waist. The sleeves were pink silk and long, like a crane's wings. Then came the beautiful, royal blue, silk kimono. Dropping down into piles at the bottoms of my feet, the kimono seemed a gigantic mass of fabric; however, as Ogino-san began to wrap the soft fabric around my body, the excess silk slowly rose to the tops of my feet. Then, wrapping yet another piece of pink cloth around the kimono (to hold the fold in place), she brought out the obi (the large silk cloth that goes around the front of the kimono) and started to wrap that around me. Needless to say, after about 15 or 20 minutes of being wrapped in various fabrics and ties, I felt slightly mummified. But looking in the mirror, I also felt something else: I felt myself being transformed into an older, regal Japan. It is an experience that I am sure I will never again have in my life (at least not in the same way).

Matt, too, was dressed in a man's yukata and soon, after he and Jason were decked out in their summer wear, we proceeded into the small tatami room on the other side of the house, to participate in the traditional Japanese art of tea ceremony.

Not only were we served wonderful maccha (special powdered green tea specific to tea ceremony) and sugary sweets, but Ogino-san attempted to teach all three of us the ritual involved in tea ceremony. While we all struggled with little parts of the ceremony, it was truly special to be a part of such an old and traditional Japanese cultural practice.

It was a beautiful, late-spring day, and we asked the Ogino's if we could take some pictures outside in their yard. After snapping a few shots, Ogino-san informed us that there was a short-cut to a small shrine behind their house. So, walking slowly, quietly, and carefully, we made our way to the shrine.

The shrine was a beautiful backdrop for our Japanese garments.

In the sunlight, my kimono and the guys' yukatas gleamed.

Matt and me
Finally, our "fairy tale" was at an end. As we slowly walked back toward the house, I knew I would remember this day and this experience for the rest of my life. And just looking back at these pictures now I know this will be true.

Faulhabers from Afar

2007-06-04T18:40:00.000+09:00

Seasonal changes are important all over the world, but Japan is one country where the culture truly embraces the shifting seasons in many noticeable ways. As spring drew near, Julie and I happily anticipated a visit from the Faulhaber family. While they would only be here for a brief stay, they, of all our guests, were undoubtedly the most seasonally fortunate.

After a happy meeting (it had been months since we had last seen friends or family) at Narita airport, Julie and I led her family to the Keisei train that would take us into Tokyo. As Julie and I have learned, riding the train in to the city is a perfect opportunity to catch up with visitors, and this trip was no different. I had a chance to speak with Anne about our experiences here as well as learn about the goings-on back home.

Our arrival at Shinjuku station was well-timed for interesting sight-seeing. While the novelty of this electric-city has somewhat worn off for Julie and me, seeing the immense buildings covered in neon light, the shifting crowds of people, and listening to the cacophony of it all, it was hard to remain unimpressed. During our stay in Tokyo, the city was amazingly crowded, perhaps due to the proximity of that week to Golden Week--a national holiday in Japan. Whatever the reasons, walking down the streets in Tokyo was like making one's way through a restless crowd at a rock concert.
After checking into our hotel and settling down for a good night's rest, we were ready to begin our tour of Tokyo in the morning.

One of the best things to do on one's first morning in Tokyo is to check out the Tsukiji fish market near the Ginza section of the city. Tsukiji is an immense whole-sale seafood market in Tokyo--one of the (if not THE) largest whole-sale markets in all of Asia. It is best to arrive early in order to see the market in action, to observe men driving cartons of fresh fish, octopus, squid, shrimp, and a myriad of other watery-delectables on filthy, noisy gas-propelled carts, with one hand on a steering wheel the size of a 88 and the other hand busily managing a charred cigarette. Questionable food standards in one's own country can send people running to lawyers, while in a foreign land they becoming largely ignorable and even exotic. Maybe the well-placed tobacco ashes are just the spice the dish needed in the first place!

Inside Tsukiji market there are tight columns and rows that weave through the warehouse with floors covered in water, ice, fish scum and blood. Brightly colored octopus tentacles with purple-white suction cups float in blue barrels, next to Styrofoam containers of still-living fish, lobsters, crabs and shrimp. Frozen and thawing Giant Tuna, each the size of a cocker-spaniel, lay on wooden tables waiting to be treated for sale. In metal canisters, eel lay piled in bloody water and fishermen in black smocks decapitated wriggling fish and gutted them with swift, skilled flicks of their knives. The immense size of the market is stunning and awesome. Japan consumes a massive proportion of Asia (and the world's) fish population and after a visit to Tsukiji, it's not difficult to believe. Nevertheless, we opted to embrace our minuscule, yet meaningful, role in this gigantic market machine and try some of Tsukji's world-famous sushi for ourselves.

Personally, I tend to roll my eyes whenever someone likens the act of eating to art. Food is a necessity, and it's inaccurate (to say the least) to view it as an aesthetic experience. How can one retain the necessary "disinterested-ness" with which we must approach art while merely satiating a daily physiological ache? At any rate, the closest my culinary experience has ever come to artwork is undoubtedly the ingestion of Japan's delicious sushi.

As I have discovered upon my visits to good sushi restaurants, a great sushi chef does not simply have the best materials at hand, but rather understands the exact composition of what he is setting in front of the customer. He (I've regrettably never seen a female sushi chef) knows how to perfectly balance and harmonize the essential ingredients in a piece of sushi. The tuna must be cut just right--sized up and flavored with wasabi--but not too much! When you've had good sushi, really good sushi, you know it immediately. All the disparate elements--rice, fish, wasabi, soy sauce--do not compete for the attention of your taste-buds, but rather enhance the overall experience.

After making good memories in Tsukiji, the five of us headed towards Kabuki-za theater. Unfortunately, the theater was closed, so we made our way to the old-world Tokyo markets of Asakusa.

Asakusa was once the entertainment district of Meiji-era Tokyo, a role that Shinjuku has since accepted, but only in Asakusa can one imagine what the city must have been like at the turn of the last century. We arrived and posed for pictures under the giant red lantern declaring "Ichiban Mon" (literally, Number One Gate) and made our way down the famous Nakamise-dori shopping street. Stopping at shops along the way, we eventually came to Sensoji-temple, a temple complex with a large pagoda, massive roof, and lots of character.

Seeing as it was springtime in Tokyo, we thought it necessary to visit Ueno park to view the world-famous cherry blossoms that line the paths there. After arriving by subway, we walked into the park to observe the festive cultural appreciation for nature (albeit a contained, closely controlled and monitored nature) that the Japanese are famous for. Beneath each side of the main path, lined with gorgeous cherry trees in splendid full bloom, hundreds of people sat on blue tarps, laughing, drinking and socializing. The Japanese are proud of their cherry blossoms and rightfully so. Until coming to Japan, I had never seen such a beautiful and common phenomenon like the cycle of cherry-trees that meets those qualifications and compares with their splendor.

One of the spots we thought it very important to show the Faulhabers was the Great Buddha at Kamakura. Kamakura was briefly a capital of Japan during the 14th century and thus has many temples and shrines and spots of interest, but the most interesting of these is by far the Great Buddha statue. Seeing the Buddha statue first-hand gives credence to the claim that one must observe an artwork with one's own eyes to really approach the essence of a piece of art. I had seen many reproductions of the Buddha in my time (and have even reproduced them here), but to be near it, to share space with it, to have the freedom to choose my own angels from which to stand and trace it, unrestricted, with my own eyes--this was the experience that convinced me of it's importance to human history and art.

The Buddha was originally built with a surrounding temple structure, but a tsunami washed it all away, leaving the Buddha to fend for itself and endure the fickle climate of eastern Japan. Had the temple remained, from all those centuries ago, we would not have had the opportunity to appreciate this statue surrounded by beautiful cherry blossoms in the year 2007. As it was, all of us were impressed--even Julie and me, on our second visit. The balance of the features on the Buddha's face, the perfectly serene expression, the humility of his posture and the rolls of fat betraying a bent-back and curved belly, the optimism of the statue, the idealism contained in the thought--and represented by the structure--that man can attain true happiness through selflessness and cooperation; all of this was contagious, and like all good artwork, something had been communicated: the art-appreciator comes to know the artist despite the centuries of daily hardship, suffering, and war that separate them.

One of the last excursions we made before the Faulhaber's had to return to the States was our day trip to Matsumoto castle.

During the late sixteenth century, Japan was still an island composed of warring states: various territories governed by warlords that battled each other for resources and control. It was amidst this historical background that the construction of Matsumoto castle began in 1592. While all of Japan's unique and beautiful castles date from this period, all but three are reconstructions of the originals that were either destroyed in battle, by accidental fire, or by intentional fire-bombing by the Allies during World War II. The dark and brooding Matsumoto castle is one of the originals remaining in Japan, and, seated majestically but ominously above a large moat, we are very lucky that it survived the ravages of time. One day, perhpas even great Metropolises like Tokyo, London and New York will lay in ruins, as their metal and lumber are scrapped for new cities and new empires. Perhaps we, too, amidst the desert of our own wasteland, will be worthy of Ozymandias' call from Shelly's ironic poem: "Look on my works, Ye Mighty, and Despair!"

Possibly in order to calm these heavy thoughts, we dined on Matsumoto's famous soba noodles in a favorite restaurant near the station. Of all the many meals I will miss in Japan, soba ranks near the top. The Faulhabers had requested that we feed them well and I can't help but believe that we more than obliged them--although it wasn't too hard, when one considers the fantastic food that exists, just waiting to be stumbled upon, in nearly every corner of Japan.

The next day, after a long, but enjoyable, bus ride to Narita airport, during which Carly taught me the secrets of the Rubik's Cube, we said a tearful goodbye to the family that had treated us very well while visiting the country in which we have lived and acted as guides for so long now. With only a few months left, we will see all our friends and family again shortly, but we will not forget the wonderful time we had this spring, amidst the beauty and grace of Japan.

Mountains, Music, and March, Oh My!

2007-03-19T19:16:00.000+09:00

The past few months, from the middle of January to the beginning of March, were slightly uneventful for me and Matt. After hosting the Matysiks and our friend Sean and having to go through the heartache of them leaving us behind in Japan, homesickness and frustration at our schools and situation pummeled us in the face. I, especially, felt sad and lonely and extremely isolated, and this, along with being exhausted from traveling for so many weeks on end, caused me to come home from school every day, lounge on our tiny, ridiculous blue couch and just sit. Matt, on the other hand, began to write music again and after a few weeks of feeling homesick and dismayed, I gradually got out of my funk and started to feel like doing things again.

This change really occurred when our friends, Beth and Thomas, spontaneously invited us to go mountain climbing with them one Saturday. It was a long-weekend (though I had to attend the Yamanashi Prefectural Speech Contests on that Sunday) and so we decided that it was time to get out of the house, to stop watching LOST on our computer, and to actually breathe some fresh air. So, we got up early on Saturday morning, packed our backpacks for the colder weather, made a brief stop at the 7-11 for “power” snacks and water, and then drove to get Beth and Thomas. We were on our way by 9am.

After a few glitches—we couldn’t find the right mountain and ended up in some really bizarre locale on another peak—we made it to the parking lot, where we debarked from the tiny K-car and began our ascent. Boy, mountain climbing for me just doesn’t get easier—physically, that is. I did feel more positive this time and tried not to think about the difficulties each step made for my aching legs. We took short breaks here and there, admiring scenery (though it was a cloudy, dreary day) or having a quick snack of chocolate or peanuts, and eventually hit the point where snow and ice were abundant. Trying to walk up a steep switchback while not a) slipping on the ice, b) falling through an unexpected sinkhole, or c) getting your shoes completely soaked from all the snow was a great (and at times unwelcome) challenge. Since we were constantly moving, I didn’t feel too cold, though I could see my breath and reached for my gloves to add some warmth to my reddening fingers. But overall, it was just the constant movement, the never-ending climbing, that wore me out and made me hope and pray that there would be another, easier way, to get down this god-forsaken mountain.

Reaching the gate to the temple, I felt so relieved! In 200 meters more lay the promise of a warm meal (we had had nothing to eat besides snacks the whole way up), warm shelter, and beautiful temple structures. Well, there were certainly beautiful buildings at the top of the mountain, but no food or warming huts to be found. So, feeling slightly dismayed and just having stepped into an enormous (hidden) puddle of freezing cold water, I was not feeling prepared for the information we would soon find out—we had to go down the mountain the same way we came up! Thinking about all the icy switchbacks and constant pounding of my feet on the cold ground made my stomach drop to my knees. We were all cold, hungry, thirsty and tired and none of us wanted to endure another two hours climb down the 2000 meter tall mountain. But, what could we do? So, mustering up our strength and bundling up for the cold again, we began our descent.

Climbing up a mountain is by no means an easy feat, but it is the descent that breaks your spirit and requires the most physical strength you have. Bracing yourself, locking your knees and trying to manoveour around patches of sheer, slippery ice is no easy task and with each step I felt my knees aching and the arches of my feet becoming more and more painfully tense. I slipped numerous times, once skinning my shin with a nice “ice” burn, and I also stepped on a jagged rock that shot lighting bolts of pain up my calf and into my knee. At one point, my legs, having worked so hard all day, began to shake uncontrollably—had I not been so tired and cranky I may have found the whole experience mildly amusing. But I was tired and cranky and the last thing I wanted were shaky legs attempting to hold me upright as I descended. I felt like crying and, at one point, a few tears were shed when Matt and I were out of reach from Beth and Thomas.

Eventually, Thomas and Matt went on head of us, and Beth and I made the rest of the trip down together. We passed a small shrine, indicating that we were close to our starting point, but, what did we find there? Small stone steps leading down to the cedar forest. After bracing yourself and putting all the pressure on your knees while going down steep paths, the last thing your body (and mind) feels like doing is walking down a bunch of steps. Taking this opportunity to let our frustrations shine through, we deemed these stairs (unlike the steps to Nirvana at Kuonji Temple) the Stairway to Hell—and believe me, it was hell to get down them. But, after the stairs gave way to a more even pathway, we knew we were almost done—our mountain climbing was nearing a joyous end! Just before passing through the torii symbolizing our accomplishment in climbing that day, we passed a family who were praying at a small shrine. Their voices chanting prayers to some unknown deity was really the perfect ending to our adventurous day. I no longer felt angry at the mountain and all her obstacles; rather, I felt a sense of serenity and calm pass through my body and so, when we met up with Thomas and Matt at the bottom, I was able to look upon this day with a sense of great accomplishment and excitement. And, while I was most certainly sore and bruised for days after, it was that chanting that kept things in perspective and gave me the ability to move beyond my “funk” and to start enjoying Japan once again.

A week after our mountain excursion, Matt played his first solo gig at a benefit concert in Kofu. Our friend Courtney put on this benefit for her mother, whose house burned down and whose pets were killed in the blaze. The benefit, called “Yennies for Kenney’s,” was to raise money to help her mother start all over again. All the JETs and other foreigners in Yamanashi brought their spare change (and then some) as the entrance fee to the concert, and Phil, Matt, Jon Smith, and Kim all played covers and original music to help support this event.

When Jason Hill and I arrived, Phil was just about to start his 15-20 minute set. We dumped all our change into the huge bucket, found Matt and listened to Phil play. Then it was Matt’s turn. Getting out the video camera and asking Jason to take still pictures, we listened to his set, cheering him on the whole time! The sound quality in The Vault was far from superior and it also didn’t help that people were already drunk and talking as loudly as possible. But regardless, Matt did an astounding job—playing three covers and two originals. His set was as follows: “Two Headed Boy” by Neutral Milk Hotel, self-composed songs “Autumn Leaves” and “Western Man,” “Things Behind the Sun” by Nick Drake, and “Casimir Palaski Day” by Sufjan Stevens. I was so immensely proud of him for harnessing the confidence to play alone and to sing out—something I have been telling him to do for nearly five years now. And so, when we finished his set, I gave him a huge hug and told him how proud I really was.

The rest of the night went well. Jon Smith played jazz piano and Kim did his own, “unique” concert (all original compositions with highly questionable lyrics—but comical nonetheless). We enjoyed talking to some other people, catching up with other ALTs who we haven’t seen in some time,, and then called it a night, heading back to our apartment with Jason in tow.

And during this time, Matt and I had our last classes of this 2006-2007 school year. For me, it was both exciting and a little sad to be saying goodbye to these students (who I still see at school but will not teach again). Certain classes were amazing and had really great kids in them; others were more challenging and won’t really be missed all that much. But it was just boggling that the year was over and that, come next month, I would be seeing new faces in each class and trying to adapt to new levels of English and new class dynamics. So, on the last day of each class, I had the students pose for a picture with me—so I will always remember them and my experience teaching here.

The first two weeks of March were, in all honesty, extremely boring at school (without classes to teach or projects to work on). Many days I would just sit at my desk, wondering what to do with myself and my 8 hour day. Matt was in the same predicament too. We’d study Japanese, read the news online, email people, and other such mundane things, but after sitting for four hours doing such things, our minds were fried and our patience at the limit. There were many nights when we came home frustrated, irritable, and cranky and these were not some of our finest moments in Japan. But, with only two weeks remaining before my mom, dad and sister will visit us, and having a few holiday days off from school, things seem more manageable and we are much happier. We’ve also been watching many movies, the best we’ve seen recently being The Departed and The Devil and Daniel Johnston. And spring is also coming quickly: the plum blossoms have arrived and sakura should be here any day now. We have plans to visit Ogino-san’s (our Japanese friend) home next Sunday and I will hopefully be able to wear his wife’s kimono and take pictures with Matt and the sakura. So things are brightening up from January and hopefully, as the months march on, as we start a new school year, as the days become warmer, we will begin to feel more like ourselves—like we did in the fall—and will be able to enjoy Japan before we leave her for a long and undetermined time.

Let's Enjoy Sumo Together!

2007-03-19T19:10:00.000+09:00

Saturday, January 8th found me, Matt and our friend Sean (who was visiting us for 9 days) at the entrance to the Sumo arena in Tokyo. We purchased cheap “day-of” tickets and were ecstatic to be a part of the day’s competition. The stadium, small and intimate—with the first floor littered with small “box seats” comprised of tatami mats, low tables, and burgundy pillows and the second tier with regular stadium seating—was not yet alive with the hundreds of spectators cheering on their favorite wrestlers. A large, wooden roof-like structure canopied the clay ring, where amateur wrestlers were currently having their bouts.

We decided to take a few pictures of these “big” guys and then find a good seat (since our tickets were unreserved seating in the top-most row of the arena). Before finding a seat, however, we asked one wrestler to pose for a picture. Matt thinks (and I would have to concur) that Sean and I look slightly terrified to be standing next to such an iconic Japanese figure (though the wrestler was, in all honesty, a very pleasant man). Finding a seat, and leaving our jackets there to hold our place, we ventured down to the souveneir shop to peruse the “sumo” trinkets. Each of us bought a deck of “sumo” cards and Sean got a few other things for his family members. Then, feeling the pangs of hunger slowly creeping into our stomachs, we got popcorn, soda and other refreshments and then climbed the steep steps back up to our tiny seats, where we awaited the grand festivities.

Watching the actual (televised) competition was amazing! Everything is so ritualistic (as is to be expected from a Japanese sport) and the crowds were so into the action. The ceremony preceding the competition (where all the sumos who will compete come out in their decorative skirts and do the opening ritual) was amazing—the colors and demeanors of the wrestlers were so astonishing and regal. The lower division went first and then it was time for the top division and the “big guns.” Kotooshu, a wrestler from Bulgaria, was most certainly a crowd favorite, as was the Mongolian Asasyoryu, who holds the title of the Yokozuma (the highest rank for a sumo wrestler). His opening ritual was beautiful and poetic, which may seem ironic for the fact that he weighs a whopping 148 kilograms (about 326 pounds).

Matt, Sean and I found ourselves cheering for certain players, tallying who defeated who, and trying to bet who would win each match. Though we were at the stadium for around 6-7 hours, the action captivated us and the time we spent watching sumo felt astronomically less than the reality. After the final bout, we watched the bow dance, performed by a lower sumo, snapped a few photos, and then joined the masses leaving the stadium.

We spent a good deal of time, waiting in line for the trains, but it was incredibly worth it! If anyone were to come to Japan during sumo season, I would highly recommend that they go and be a part of that magnificent sport and atmosphere. There are definitely times when I forget that I am in a foreign country—times when Japan just seems like any other place I have lived in—but on that Saturday, sitting in the sumo stadium, listening to the chants and yells from excited fans, I knew I was not in Wisconsin any longer—and I was excited about that.

A Winter's Tale: The Matysiks Visit Japan, Part 7--The Last Day

2007-03-15T19:19:00.000+09:00

Our last day with the Matysiks was spent all over the Tokyo area. We visited Kamakura, saw the Pacific Ocean, wandered around various shrines, ate lunch in Chinatown in Yokohama, and then walked around Tokyo some more before heading out to dinner and topping it all off at the Golden Gai area. Here are some pictures capturing what our last day together was like.

Me and Matt standing on the beach. We are on the other side of the world, looking across the vast sea at everyone we love!

In Kamakura, there is one of the largest Buddha statues in Japan--called the Daibutsu. It used to be encased in a shrine but, during a horrible storm and tidal wave, the shrine around the Daibutsu was washed away. And the Buddha has, since then, been exposed to the elements and has been poking its head out above the trees planted in the shrine's gardens.

As we headed back towards the train station, we wandered down a side street and stumbled upon a small shrine. We walked around the beautiful grounds, complete with statues (clothed for the cold winter nights) and bamboo forests.

Kamakura and the Pacific Ocean--what a gorgeous morning!

For lunch, we decided to head to Yokohama, where Japan's largest Chinatown is located. We walked around the neighborhood, got a delicious Chinese lunch, and pondered the racist depictions all around us.

After returning to Tokyo, we were exhausted, so we spent a little time at our hotel in Shinjuku. But, before long, the neon lights clicked on and we were out again, roaming the city's streets.

We ventured over to Harajuku, where we ate dinner at one of our favorite restaurants in Tokyo, Fujimama's. We had a wonderful (more Western) meal and enjoyed our last dinnertime conversation.

But, before Greg, Michelle and Allison left Japan, we needed to get them a crepe from one of the crepe shops lining the Harajuku streets. So, after a delicious snack, we headed back to the Golden Gai area, where we found another little bar to sit in and, after a few drinks and some conversation with the bartender, ventured back to our hotel and the Matysiks spent their last night in Tokyo.

And so concludes our winter's tale with the Matysiks. They left for American on January 5th, catching glimpses of Japan before they climbed into the skies and back across the Pacific Ocean to home. Matt and I cried at Narita airport after they left, knowing that it would be a while until we'd see them again. But, once the tears dried and we got some lunch, we were ready to begin our next adventure: hosting our friend, Sean, for 9 days. But that is another story for another time.

A Winter's Tale: The Matysiks Visit Japan, Part 6--Kyoto Day Trip

2007-02-19T20:10:00.000+09:00

Monday, January 2nd--a blustery, cold, rainy winter day. We set out at the crack of dawn to embark on our day trip with Hiroshi and Chieko to Kyoto. Little did we know that we would soon be transported into a world of middle-aged, food-loving Japanese people who clearly had no real interest in all the hidden wonders scattered among Japan's ancient capital.

We no sooner left the tour bus (after listening to the guide go on and on in Japanese for almost two painstaking hours) then we were rushed over to our first shrine. "You only have 30 minutes to look around and take pictures. Then be back on the bus," was the extent of what our guide murmured to us as we quickened our pace to catch a glimpse of the shrine.

Upon entering the grounds, the rain tapping persistently on the exposed tops of our umbrellas, we beheld the brightly-painted orange buildings of this particular shrine. We approached the main building, coins in hand, and repeating the ritual we had learned the previous day, we paid our respects to the god of the shrine and then had a muddy, wet look around. Everything was decked out for the New Year's holiday and with scads of people roaming around, laughing and clasping wet hands with wet hands, we became part of the festivities surrounding us.

Rushing back to the bus, we soon found ourselves creeping and winding around small cobblestone streets, towards a hotel on a hill. Moving up to the second floor, we entered a small tatami room with a banquet table full of many more traditional New Year's foods. After a hearty meal, we consulted our maps and, utilizing the two hours we had to walk around the old streets, we began the best part of our day.

Walking down the sloping streets of the Higashiyama area, we saw the head of a giant deity rising above the barren trees. Climbing steep stone steps, we made it to the shrine dedicated to an unknown soldier. Paying the small entrance fee, and, with incense in hand, we approached the large statue. Her peaceful gaze and stance cast a tranquil atmosphere over the grounds. It was so quiet and peaceful, with rain drops dancing on the surface of the small pool in the center of the complex--I felt completely at ease in this moment in time.

Placing our incense sticks into the burner and looking around the grounds, we were soon on our way down the hill once again, stopping to take pictures of the little shops and shrines along the way. We happened upon not only shrines and temples, but little stands selling typical festival foods. So, in the midst of all this ancient history, Matt stopped and had a tasty snack of takoyaki (fried octopus in breading).

As our next departure time was quickly approaching, we began our ascent of the steep roads and soon, after a few stops, made it back to the tour bus. Stopping inside the hotel for a quick bathroom break, we did a little window shopping in the gift shop and then were on our way again. The bus, after meandering through Kyoto's narrow streets, stopped across from an ancient, magnificent looking temple complex. Anxiously awaiting to go and see what was inside, I quickly got off the bus--only to find that we were all being herded into a radish shop, for wine and radish tasting. So, as we ate the sour veggies and drank the too-sweet wine, we looked out of the glass windows towards the historical buildings on the other side of the street. Then, after our 10 minute stop, we entered the bus again and drove away. I never did get to see what was inside the complex--maybe I never will.

We drove on for what seemed like hours and finally stopped at a parking lot. We boarded another bus bound for another shrine. This shrine, apparently, was extremely popular, and so, following the crowds towards what we could only assume was the gate to the shrine, we soon found ourselves scrunched in a mob of "pilgrims." It was almost surreal how many people were headed in the same direction, and we couldn't help but step on a few peoples' feet as we snaked through the winding streets to the mouth of the shrine.

The shrine itself was nothing particularly special to look at, but the mere fact that so many people found it necessary to make the trip to its very gates was moving. As I was shoved to and fro from all the people moving towards the shrine entrance, I almost felt a sense of calm--like the eye of a storm. Taking it all in (as quickly as I could since we had yet another deadline to return to the bus), we then turned on our heels and headed back, through the crowds of people, back to the tour bus and, very soon enough, were on our way back to Kobe and to our warm beds.

A Winter's Tale: The Matysiks Visit Japan, Part 5--New Year's Day

2007-02-18T13:17:00.000+09:00

Happy 2007! Our new year began by walking around the grounds of the very famous and exquisite Himeji-jo. One of the oldest and completely original castles of Japan, Himeji-jo stands regally above the town below. Nestled high on an unmovable bed of boulders, the castle's main keep is nothing less than breathtaking. The pitched roof, the small slitted windows, the blinding white paint--all situate Himeji-jo in a dark, war-plagued, samurai-ridden past. Though, walking through the grounds, I felt distinctly at ease, as though the castle itself has a welcoming and safe presence. We entered one of the buildings on the grounds, stepping into wooden rooms where women were housed and, slinking along the smooth floorboards, we felt transported to another era. Outside, beyond the thick mud walls, a group of men were playing on Japanese flutes and the beautiful, simple music floated into the sunlit rooms. The castle grounds, while strewn with many visitors, were so serene and it was so relaxing just to be ambling among the trees and gardens.

Eventually, we found the exact place where, six years ago, Matt had taken a stunning picture of the castle and, having found the same spot, we snapped another photo with all of us in front of the castle. Then, having only a few minutes left to peruse the grounds, we made it up to the main keep, where tiny doors led into secret holdings and stone steps were worn down from years of use and exposure. Paying our respects to this historical site, we said goodbye and began our walk towards Himeji station. There, we boarded another shinkansen (bullet train) and, in less than 30 minutes, found ourselves in Kobe.

Waiting in the Shin-Kobe station, our respective head colds really started to get the best of us. I remember sitting there, thinking how I could try to make my runny nose, sore throat, and persistent headache go away (or seem less disabling than it really was) before the Oues came to pick us up. But no sooner had I began to think about this, then I heard Greg say that Hiroshi was here! So, mustering up the little strength we had in our exhausted and ill-stricken bodies, we went to greet Hiroshi and Akinori (the first time for Greg, Michelle and Allison; the second for me). Walking out of the station, I asked Hiroshi, "Hiroshi-san, o genki desu ka?" And right away, he laughed in his cute little chuckle and told me that my Japanese had greatly improved since the last time I was here. I smiled, shook my hand in front of my face (an indication of saying "no" in Japan) and told him that it was still very poor. So, after introductions and a few words, Matt and Allison hopped into the car with Akinori and I accompanied Greg and Michelle in Hiroshi's car. We talked about our trip and all that we had seen and eaten since Christmas Eve. It was a relaxing car ride back to Suma, the part of Kobe where the Oues reside.

Twisting, turning and creeping up the steep hills of the neighborhood, I started to remember certain landmarks from when I was visiting back in October. We pulled up to the beautiful white house with the Oue's kanji written on a plaque by their mail box. We exited the car and entered the beautiful foyer. Chieko came out to greet us, a huge smile on her face which I distinctly remembered from our first meeting. Masahito was sitting in the kitchen and when we entered for lunch, we found the table covered with decorative bento boxes full of delicious New Year foods. Chieko and Seiko had made all the food the day earlier--and it was quite a feast! We had mochi, fish, vegetables, beans, and beer. Lunch lasted a good hour or so. When it was over, we went into the living room, where we all looked at pictures around the coffee table and Chieko served us tea and coffee. I felt right at home again with this wonderful family and felt so happy that Greg, Michelle and Allison were finally able to meet them after all these years.

After a few minutes, we all piled into the cars and headed down to a small shrine to pay our respects to the New Year. There were people lining the roads and small stands set up to sell takoyaki, anko fish, and other little sweets. We climbed the stone steps up to the shrine and then, getting our our 5 yen pieces, we approached the opening, where hoards of other people were tossing coins into the bin, then clapping twice, bowing, then clapping once again. So, following suit, we tossed our coins, clapped and bowed. Then, we took a look around the shrine. We saw people tying their bad fortunes onto pine trees around the shrine. Then, walking down the steps again, we headed back to the cars, but since there were so many of us, we had to take two trips, so Matt and I waited at the 7/11 for Chieko to come get us. While we waited we ate a kit-kat bar and commented on how many unwelcoming stares we had received on our way to and from the shrine. It was a really interesting experience. We are used to being stared at most places we go, but this was definitely a different kind of stare--it was very unfriendly and almost hateful. We were both really surprised.

Once Chieko picked us up and we returned to the home, we just relaxed in the living room, watching New Years programs on Hiroshi's huge TV. Then, as dusk fell and the sky turned a midnight blue color, we took a drive down to Rainbow Bridge, where we took some pictures and admired the view of the bay at night. Then, upon returning back to the house, we had another amazing meal (Chieko is a magnificent cook) and soon, feeling the effects of the long day and the extensive traveling we had been doing for the past week, we took our baths and got ready for bed. Greg and Michelle would be staying with the Oues, but Matt, Allison and I were to be guests at the neighbor's house. She was a kind, old widow who had a whole huge house to herself. At first, before I met her, I was a little reluctant to stay at her house, but once we entered and saw this spry, spunky (and extremely genki) old lady, we immediately felt right at home. She nestled us under her kotatsu in front of her TV, and we looked at some of her pictures from a trip she and Seiko took to Thailand only a few months ago. Then, feeling fatigued, we shuffled into the tatami room and, climbing under the bedding, soon fell into a deep and much-needed sleep. And so ended our first day of the new year--a wonderful day full of history, food, and reuniting with friends.

A Winter's Tale: The Matysiks Visit Japan, Part 4--Miyajima and New Year's Eve

2007-02-12T17:16:00.000+09:00

On Sunday, December 31st, we took a day trip to a small island in the inland sea. Here is our day's excursion to beautiful Miyajima and the night that was to follow in Himeji, Japan.

Up early on Sunday morning, we boarded a train bound for Miyajima. Greg and Michelle were in playful spirits.

Approaching Miyajima from our ferry boat. What a spectacular day!

Matt feeding some greedy but docile deer--look at the one grabbing a hold of his pants! So mischievous!

As the tide goes out, Miyajima's famous floating torii's mystery is exposed.

Greg and Michelle gazing at the torii.
The temple and pagoda looming high into the crystal blue sky.
Inside the temple; preparing for the New Year celebration.
Muddy temple grounds and the sea bottom exposed as the tide rushes out to sea.

Matt about to receive a sloppy deer kiss.

The inland sea from the top of Miyajima's highest mountain.
The tide slowly comes back in. Our time in Miyajima has come to a close. Now on to...

Himeji-jo--the most beautiful and majestic castle in Japan. We spent New Year's Eve admiring the castle (illuminated in the blackness of night) and eating dinner at a local izakaiya (Japanese bar).

Our delicious New Year's Eve dinner, complete with Nihon-shu, soba, yakiniku, and other tasty dishes!

Our luxurious accommodations for the evening. Soon after our magnificent dinner, we settled down for a sound New Year's Eve sleep.

A Winter's Tale: The Matysiks Visit Japan, Part 3--Hiroshima

2007-02-03T14:11:00.000+09:00

Saturday, December 30th, 2006: After an extremely uncomfortable night on a coach bus (carrying us from Tokyo to the Kansai region), we finally stepped foot into Hiroshima around 8:30am. Overtired and with swollen feet, we hobbled into the cold morning air and tried to determine the way to our hotel. Outside of the bus terminal, we saw a city of modern buildings and streetcars--all the hustle and bustle of a major urban area. And once I saw this, even before we made it anywhere near the Peace Park, I felt emotions welling up inside me, knowing that the morning the bomb was dropped, the city must have looked somewhat similar to this day. So, suppressing the lump in my throat, I followed everyone into an elevator (which took us below the city streets into a passageway leading to the other side of the street). Once there, we crossed traffic and stood, waiting at the streetcar platform. Soon, out of the stream of cars flooding past us, a space-age looking tram approached our terminal. We boarded the car and rode it to Hiroshima-eki. Once there, we disembarked, walked a few blocks, and finally found our little ryokan (Japanese-style) hotel. Collapsing in the small dining area, finally rid of the weight of our heavy bags and coats, we enjoyed some hot tea and snacks (provided by the nice hotel ladies). Having rested for an hour or so, we decided to try to find our way to the Genbaku Dome (Atomic Dome), and so, heading back to the tram stop, we hopped on another street car and were on our way to the Peace Park.

The dome was in sight as we stepped out of the street car and into the bright winter day. Crossing the road and entering the park, the ominous, frightenly-ghostly shell of a building loomed before us--exposed to the elements, hiding nothing from the eye. We quietly circled the building, our once-smiling faces dropping into serene, contemplative forms. The feelings this building evokes from one gazing upon it are, in reality, indescribable. Reading that this building, once a teeming, cultural center, full of life and beauty, was only 500 meters from the epicenter of the bomb and that the people inside were immediately engulfed in fiery flames made my heart drop to my stomach. Yet, I couldn't stop looking--I felt like I had to look, I had to feel nauseous, I had to etch this imagine into my mind forever. Seeing the sun's rays caress the barren structure, while ravens took perch amongst the debris and exposed metal beams, I felt a distinct, fleeting sense of hatred for humankind--for the suffering and atrocities we bring upon one another. At the same time, though, this dome--this phantom building--is truly an ever-lasting reminder of what we cannot repeat again. And while crossing the bridge to walk through the rest of the park, I looked back on the building with a morbid sense of beauty and hope. It is difficult to describe, so I must leave it at that.

The rest of the park was tastefully laid out--with memorials scattered throughout the grounds--and we all were so happy to be walking amongst the many trees and gardens, taking in this place and its history. Once a hip, happening part of Hiroshima, it is now a memorial, forever preserving what happened sixty-two years ago. Where buildings used to stand and people used to shop and eat their meals, there is now a peace bell, an internal flame of peace, a war-museum, a children's monument (where thousands of paper cranes line glass cases, remind us of the after-effects of war on those too small to remember it), and even a monument for all the Koreans who were killed by the blast as well. The museum was, unfortunately, closed on the 30th (for the New Year's holiday) but it didn't really matter. The power of the park and memorials spoke to us in their own way. Pictures were unnecessary to helping us imagine what it must have been like.

After walking around the park for an hour or so, we decided to cross the bridge (which had been the target for the bombers) and meander through city, on our way to Hiroshima-jo (a newly-rebuilt castle--the original, of course, was destroyed in 1945). The castle was slightly unimpressive, so, deciding that we needed a break from the cold and walking, we made our way over to another part of the city (first stopping at a bookstore and a shopping center to look around). We found a nice little restaurant with veggie sandwiches--a first for Matt and me in Japan. After a nice, filling "western-style" meal, we went back to the hotel, where we showered, rested, drank tea and took it easy for a few hours (I seem to remember that we watched a TV program where these two men were visiting various spas around Japan and enjoying onsens too--but I could be wrong).

The sky grew dark and the lights of the city began to shine through our hotel windows. We bundled back up in our coats, scarves, hats and mittens and headed out into the night. Back at the dome (we wanted to take pictures of it lit up at night), all the feelings we felt earlier in the day returned to us. Against the black sky, the dome glowed like a lantern, both guiding and warning people of a past drenched with fear, anger, sadness and healing. Unlike the park--the hallowed ground--the streets surrounding the calm and stately memorials were alive and healthy and we soon perked up in the presence of so many young, vivacious people. We had a great dinner of Hiroshima okonomiyaki (very different from the kind found in Yamanashi) and then we stumbled upon a Jazz bar. We enjoyed various drinks and good jazz music and had a very relaxing end to our emotional day. Leaving the bar, Allison and I startled a Japanese man with our "gaijin" faces and had a good laugh about it. Tired and cold, we happily found a warm seat on the street car and, entering our hotel room once again, we contently crawled into our respective futons, reflecting on the day and all that it meant to us as Americans.

A Winter's Tale: The Matysiks Visit Japan, Part 2--Yamanashi-ken

2007-01-27T16:08:00.000+09:00

Wednesday, December 27th: Morning (day 3)
I awoke to the bright sunshine illuminating the paper windows in the tatami room where the five of us had just spent a peaceful night. The previous night's rain had cleared and left in its wake clear skies, magnificent mountain views, and Fuji-san, outlined by the morning mist. Matt and I decided that today would be the best day to drive down to Motosuko to get pictures of Fuji, so after a big breakfast of French toast, I sent Matt, Michelle, Greg and Allison off in our tiny Opti Daihatsu to witness on of Japan's natural marvels. As for me, I decided to stay behind and get some laundry done.

Mid-morning:
After a beautiful, scenic drive through the Minami-Alps--passing Matt's school in Kyonan along the way--the little party in the tiny Daihatsu made it to Motosuko. Snapping numerous pictures of Fuji-san, they soon crammed back into the car and headed back to Ryuo.

Noon:
By the time Matt, Michelle, Greg, and Allison returned from their Fuji-excursion, it was lunchtime. Matt and I decided to take them to one of our favorite "fast food" restaurants, Kaiten-zushi. It is a poor excuse for sushi, compared to the fresh stuff we ate in Tokyo, but it's cheap, fast, and pretty tasty. So, as the conveyor belt swished plates upon plates of different types of sushi by us, we had a nice, relaxing lunch, discussing all the exciting things we had already experienced in our four days together.

Mid-afternoon:
After dropping Matt and Greg off at the house--they were both pooped out and needed a bit of a rest--Michelle, Allison, and I took the train into Kofu, where we walked down Heiwa Dori (so exciting...), had a much needed Starbuck's break, and then did some shopping at Okajima's Department store. It was nice to just be out with Michelle and Al, and by the time we got home, we were ready for some dinner and another relaxing night at home.

Evening:
For dinner, we drove into Kushigata (past Shirane High School) and entered our favorite　おこのみやき（okonomiyaki） restaurant, Nishiki. Once seated at our tiny table, we started to explain how you make okonomiyaki: you get a cup with a raw egg, veggies, and cheese (sometimes you can get meat as well); mix it up well until it looks a little like lumpy pancake batter; add the mochi (a type of rice cake); pour the concoction onto the heated griddle in the center of the table; spread evenly with a spoon; allow to cook until golden brown on the bottom; carefully take two spatulas and flip the pseudo-pancake over; while allowing the other side to cook and brown, baste the okonomiyaki with a bbq-esque sauce and sprinkle nori (seaweek) flakes on top; cut into "pizza" slices; carefully pick up a slice with the chopsticks; dip in mayo; enjoy its deliciousness! Needless to say, we were stuffed by the time we left the friendly little establishment.

Late night:
Since we were already in Kushigata, Matt and I decided to take the Matysiks to Trial Supercenter (basically a depressing Japanese "Wal-Mart"). After laughing hysterically at all the "Engrish" t-shirts, we headed downstairs to load up on all kinds of tasty (and quite unhealthy) snacks. We bought pocky, koala munchies (I loved these things when I was a kid!), chocolate and some chips. Then, with our bags full of treats, we drove back to Ryuo, where, filling our bellies with even more food, we talked and laughed and then fell asleep.

Thursday, December 28th: Day Trip to Nagano-ken to see Matsumoto-jo
Cozy underneath the mofu blanket and comforter, I did not want to get out of bed, but after mustering up the courage to brave the cold apartment, I remembered that today we would be taking a road trip to Matsumoto castle, one of my most favorite places in Japan. After breakfast, showers, and the like, we all piled into the car and started our hour and a half journey to Matsumoto--on the at times scary but very scenic Chuo Expressway. The blustery, winter sky held promises of snow showers and I was happy when we made it to Matsumoto without any unexpected blizzards. Approaching the castle grounds, we saw Matsumoto-jo in all her majesty and, floating effortless on the moat's choppy surface were two beautiful, cotton-white swans. We stood, gazing at their beauty, and then made our way across the berry-red bridge into the castle compound.

Taking off our shoes and placing them in small plastic bags, we meandered through the ancient castle, stopping at each window to catch a glimpse of the city and surrounding mountains and to imagine what it must have been like, looking out of these same windows during the era of the samurai. After ascending the six-stories and then descending once again, we wandered the grounds, taking way too many pictures (as usual) and enjoying a brief retreat from the cold, nipping wind in the little gift shop.

With bellies rumbling with hunger pangs, we trooped on over to a tiny little soba shop, where we had an amazing lunch--complete with both cold and hot soba noodles, tempura (天ぷら), tea, and pickled veggies. Feeling full, tired and very wind-blown, we decided to head back to the car and to begin our ride home. Little did I know that I would be soon be driving through a snowy mess, in the mountains, with balding tires, resulting in sore, white knuckles afterwards.

Once the snowy weather was behind us, we had a fabulous drive back into Yamanashi, where the eight snow-covered peaks of Yatsugatake-san glimmered in the mid-afternoon sunshine. Fuji-san could be seen as we raced down the freeway and the concrete forest of Shirane, Ryuo, and Kofu was sparkling in the warm sunshine. Back at home, we took a little rest, then went out for dinner at Gratzie Gardens (our favorite "Italian pizza" joint). Content with our day of travel and sightseeing, we relaxed again at home, listened to Matt's ipod, and drifted off into a fantasy-land sleep.

Friday, December 29th: Last day in Yamanashi
It started with a lazy morning. I got up and had some tea with Greg and Michelle. Soon Matt and then Allison awoke and we had a leisurely breakfast. After cleaning up the tatami room (putting the futons, blankets, sheets and pillows back into the closet), we packed for what would soon become our week and a half "tour" of the Kansai region. Before saying goodbye to Yamanashi, though, I drove Michelle over to Shirane High School, where she took some pictures and then we got a few snacks at the conbini for lunch. Making sure we were all packed and leaving the tap dripping ever so slightly (just to make sure the pipes wouldn't freeze), we took one last picture in our entry way and then, locking the door behind us, set off towards Ryuo-eki, and the second part of our winter's tale.

A Winter's Tale: The Matysiks Visit Japan, Part 1--Tokyo

2007-01-20T17:17:00.000+09:00

Christmas Eve 2006--We left our home in Ryuo, taking a coach bus three and a half hours east, and arrived at Narita airport, excited for the arrival of Matt's family that evening. Waiting in the airport lobby, watching the big "score board" of arriving flights, noticing that the Northwest passengers were supposedly going through customs at the moment, our hearts were racing in excited anticipation of seeing familiar faces after five months of living 6,000 miles away from our home. Watching the exits, I spotted a familiar blond head and yellow coat and, quickly gathering our backpacks and jackets, Matt and I, dodging other expectant family and friends, ran over to greet Greg, Michelle and Allison with big hugs and huge grins! Finally, our long-awaited reunion with family and friends had started!

The Matysiks traveled around Japan with us for almost two weeks, and in that time, we saw many sights, ate all kinds of foods, and shared our admiration and disappointments of Japan with each other. The following account is how it all began:

Travel itinerary: Day 1--Tokyo

I awoke at 6am on Christmas morning and, emerging from my tiny room at the New Koyo Hotel, I was surprised to see Michelle already up, dressed, and brushing her teeth. We quickly assembled our 5-person group and, stepping into the bright, sunlit morning, we began our day's excursions around Tokyo. Taking the subway to Ginza, we walked toward the Tsukiji Fish Market, for a look at the morning's freshest catch. The market was teeming with people, buying, gazing, and snaking through the narrow walkways between each "booth." Narrowly escaping the fishermen's motorized carts and picking our way around pools of fish blood, we made it through the bustling market and into the fresh, less fishy-smelling air. Finding a small street to walk down, we happened upon a small sushi shop and entered. We sat at the little bar, ordered our meals and awaited the glorious moment when the fresh fillets would be placed on our leafy plates, ready for our ravenous stomachs. This was actually my and Matt's first time eating "fresh" sushi in Japan--and it was no less than amazing! Topped off with miso soup and bottomless green tea, we had a fantastic first meal in Tokyo.

Leaving the sushi shop, we ventured over to Kabuki-za, where we got tickets for one act and were awed by this traditional Japanese art form. Kabuki theater was nothing like I had imagined--the costumes were stunning, the music and singing gripping, the dancing magical. I felt I had a bird's eye view into a time long ago--an older, more mystical Japan--and while this is certainly the point of theater in many respects, it was really something special to experience. Exiting the theater at 12:15pm, we decided to take another train to Asakusa, to see the famous Senso-ji (temple).

Asakusa is a really unique part of Tokyo and the feeling of traditional and modern is distinctly present when walking its streets. Before reaching the temple, we encountered a large gate, with a huge paper lantern hanging from the beams. On the other side of the gate were masses of people emerging and disappearing into the tiny shops lining the canopied street. We poked our heads in and out of specialty shops, buying small trinkets to remind us of our trip here, and then followed the crowd toward the temple grounds. Senso-ji, situated amongst a world of concrete and neon lights, emits a kind of power and serenity over the entire grounds. Cleansing ourselves at the water pool and at the large incense pot, we entered the temple to gaze in amazement at its intricate designs and detailed drawings. Our trip to the temple ended with a delicious soba lunch at a nearby shop, where Allison and I partook of some soft-serve ice cream afterwards and then, at least I, regretted it once we stepped into the brisk, December air.

Soon after we found ourselves in Shinjuku, on the 45th floor of the Tokyo Municipal Government building, gazing at the "endless" city below. The sun was just setting and as the lights began to flicker on in various skyscrapers and districts of Tokyo, we found ourselves slowly wearing down from a long day of sightseeing. Taking a small break at the top of the building, we concluded that the night could not end and, after regaining a bit of strength, we forged ahead with our "night on the town."

Deciding to skip a normal dinner, we wandered the streets of Harajuku looking for a coffee shop to rest in. Along the way, Matt and I stopped for a double chocolate crepe, which almost did me in! Then, finding the familiar and beckoning circular Starbucks sign, we squeezed into a small table and had our caffeine fix for the evening. Sitting around the small table, people watching out of the thinly-paned windows, Matt told us that he wanted to go to Shinjuku to find a special area called the Golden Gai. We agreed that we could go for a little while longer and, with that, we left and walked back to the station, where we boarded the Yamanote Line train to Shinjuku station.

The lights of Shinjuku brighten up the sky like the mid-day sun, and with all the flashing colors, imposing store music, and hoards of people, we soon found ourselves with a good second-wind. We walked down the main street, past Kabukicho (red-light district) and then made an unexpected left turn down a quiet, dimly lit, cobblestone pedestrian pathway. I was a little nervous, walking down such a "shaddy" looking street, but soon, and to my great surprise, we found ourselves in a new world, full of tiny streets with bar after bar after tiny, hole-in-the-wall bar. Meandering around, we decided to test one of them out and, finding a place called "The 60s bar," we stepped inside, filling up over half of the capacity on our own. The woman who owned the bar was very nice and even put some Andy Williams Christmas music on for us. We enjoyed Nihon-shu (sake) in wooden boxes and had lively conversation with some other gentlemen who entered after us. After a few more drinks, we decided to call it a night and, after a short walk and a few train rides, we made it back to our little hotel and fell fast asleep.

Travel itinerary: Day 2--Tokyo and Ryuo

I awoke on December 26th to rain smattering against my window. Knowing that we would be outside for the good part of the morning in the foul weather, I grabbed my small, travel umbrella and headed down to the lobby. The minute I stepped outside and heard the pattering of raindrops on the canopy over my head, I knew our hours spent outside would be close to miserable. We went down to the 7/11 for a quick breakfast, shaking as we ate outside in the dampness, and then we went to Ueno, to walk around the park and to visit the National Treasury Museum. Both the walk and the museum were "below-average," but we continued and tried to make the best of our current situation. We found a little place to eat some lunch--various kinds of udon bowls--and then we decided to retrieve our luggage from the hotel and to get to Shinjuku station, where we would take the Kaiji Limited Express back to Kofu.

Well, by the time we dragged all the luggage through large puddles of standing water and transfered a few trains, we were ready for the hour and a half train ride back to Yamanashi-ken. We were all tired and cranky and the weather hampered our scenic view. My jeans had just almost dried out when we reached Ryuo, when we had to brave the elements once again to make it to our tiny, freezer-like apartment. Entering the cold kitchen, I felt awful for having dragged the Matysiks through this crappy weather only to enter an unheated residence. But, once we got our kerosene heater working and sat around the kotatsu drinking jasmine tea, things started to get better.

Matt and I took Michelle, Greg and Allison to our favorite Indian restaurant, Suriya, for dinner and then, with our bellies full of delicious curry and nan, we drove to the Yamanami onsen to really warm up. Inside, I explained to Michelle and Allison what the proper way to "experience onsen" was and then we had a nice, relaxing hour in the baths. Feeling warm and tired afterwards, we came home, talked a little bit and then, laying out the futons, blankets and comforters in our 6 tatami mat room, we called it a night and prepared for our next day in Yamanashi.

And this concludes the first two days of our winter vacation with the Matysiks. After these 2 days, we did a few things around the Yamanashi-area (which will be highlighted in the next post) and then began our intense 14 days of travel all over Japan. But, for now, we were just sleeping on the night of the 26th, happy to be out of the elements and dreaming about all the exciting adventures to come.

Christmas Time is Here

2006-12-19T18:30:00.000+09:00

Per usual, I am so late in updating the blog. With the upcoming holiday and our long-anticipated reunion with Greg, Michelle and Allison Matysik drawing nearer and nearer, I haven't been thinking about writing much lately. But here I am, at 18:32 (6:32pm), sitting down at our macbook, finally trying to remember one wonderful, Christmasy celebration we had in Minami-Alps earlier this month.

At the beginning of December, our friend, Megan Walton, asked me and Matt if we would be willing to help out at an International Christmas event in Minami-Alps on Saturday, December 11th. Seeing as we had nothing else planned, we agreed and then didn't think much else of it. We figured it would just be some little event--nothing too special--and then we could come home and resume our everyday routine of reading books, listening to music, eating lots of snacks, and watching unhealthy amounts of the TV show LOST. However, that rainy Saturday in early December made our stay here in Japan a little more meaningful.

Walking into the center in Kosai on Saturday morning (after, might I add, Matt and I both had teacher's drinking parties--called an enkai--the previous night and had stayed out rather late, singing karaoke and yucking it up with our respective co-workers), we felt tired and rather indifferent to the impending event. Crowding into a small back room, filled with other ALTs and local Japanese residents, we were immediately handed a schedule of the day's events and then practiced some Christmas songs. I was handed a few things to carry into the larger auditorium, and as we began to set up the tree and the decorations, and practiced our "reindeer dance" in the main lobby, I started to feel the Christmas spirit creep into my bones. When I found that a shabby, felt Mrs. Claus outfit had been placed in my cold hands, I didn't even hesitate to done the outfit--as goofy as I might look.

As the small children started to arrive (some were so young they could barely walk yet), Matt, Megan, Mark, and I went to greet them at the entrance. However, I think we counted that, in total, we made thirteen kids cry just by smiling, waving and wearing "scary" Santa caps. Oh well! As we pranced into the auditorium, singing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" and wearing our felt get-ups, I had a brief flashback to many Christmas' ago, when I was just a little kid staring at the big, jolly Mall Santa sitting on his cushioned throne. I felt elated (and I'm sure the smiling faces and wide-eyed children helped my giddy mood as well). We danced, sang, acted, and mingled with the kids and while having pre-K and elementary school children hang on you all afternoon tires you out pretty well by day's end, it was the most rewarding thing I have done here in quite some time.

Working every day with high school students--who are not only hormonal but unmotivated and uninterested in both your language and your culture--I think I often forget that I can only experience a small portion of Japan through them. Branching out, participating in local events, interacting with younger children and adults who are enthusiastic about English language education is what is most exciting about cultural exchange (as far as my own experiences have proved). Having a small child, who can only say "Santa-san," want to come up to you and touch your hand, to crawl all over you like you are special jungle-gym, to look into your eyes and to give you a big, toothy grin--this is what I wanted my daily life in Japan to be like. And while I have my share of disappointments with school--and with life in Japan in general--it's these moments that I hope will shape my future remembrances of living and working in a foreign country.

Autumn Leaves

2006-11-27T20:04:00.000+09:00

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...

2006-11-14T14:27:00.000+09:00

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

2006-11-05T18:01:00.000+09:00

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

2006-11-03T19:11:00.000+09:00

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!)

"The Silly Jelly-Fish"

2006-10-26T18:12:00.000+09:00

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!

2006-10-25T20:17:00.000+09:00

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

2006-10-22T14:00:00.000+09:00

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!

2006-10-20T19:48:00.000+09:00

(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!

2006-10-19T19:38:00.000+09:00

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