Fuji, Day One

My friend Mark and I took advantage of the recent long weekend (Monday was "Respect for the Aged Day") to make our assault on Mt. Fuji, affectionately known in Japan as Fuji-san. The climbing season is officially closed, though it is possible to summit year-round if you have the gear and the gumption. September is an opportune time to make the climb actually, as most of the crowds (600,000 a year) are gone and the weather is still quite good (or maybe we just lucked out). We set off Saturday afternoon from 5th Station, where the road stops and the trailhead begins. 5th Station is as high as many folks go, unfortunate as it is merely a collection of over-priced restaurants, over-priced souvenir shops, and rather poor views of the great mountain. After stocking up on some riceballs and $2 Snickers, we began our walk.

After leaving 5th Station, it doesnt take long to get above the tree line. The lush green of Japan soon turns into the gray, brown, and red rock of Fuji's cone.




The trail is ugly at times, especially as the afternoon sun disappeared behind the mountain and the light faded. Yet, when turn your back on the mountain and take a look a the 雲海　(unkai/cloud sea) below, you realize what a spectacular place it is.



It took us just over three hours to reach the 8th station, arriving just after dark as a cold mist was enveloping the mountain. The ascent was by no means easy, the terrain was often steep and rocky, or covered in loose gravel. Yet, we were some of the fastest climbers on the mountain, leapfrogging the few bottlenecks we encountered,



and half-competing with a group of four young Frenchmen who were hiking in jeans and suede loafers.

By the 7th station, I noticed a considerable difference in the air. We luckily didn't suffer any affects from the altitude, save for becoming easily winded. Our climbing strategy of walking fast and breaking often, was much different than the trudginly slow, but steady pace of most of the Japanese.



Reaching the 8th station as the temperature dropped and the winded picked up, we checked into a warm hut/bunkhouse, paid our $55, and were given a couple of futons/spots on a large bunkbed. We had hoped to chat a bit with the others in the hut, but it seemed a rather unsocial crowd so we ate our onigiri, chips, and chocolate quietly, and had a few nips of brandy to keep the chill off. Not quite full, I paid an exorbitant $5 for a instant cup noodle, but did so with little complaint as it was hot and delicious. Retired to our bunk-futons early to rest for the early morning ahead of us...

Below, a few more photos from the afternoon's ascent above the clouds:

Canyoning

No time to write much, but here are a few photos from my trip last weekend down to Gunma prefecture. Spent all day Saturday canyoning with about 25 other JETs and a few guides. For the uninitiated, canyoning is "having fun in canyons", to put it simply. Lots of jumping and sliding from waterfalls (as high as 20 meters), as well as wee bit of climbing, some river walking, and a whole lot of yelling and screaming. The water temp was in the 40s, hence the wetsuits.

Thank you a gazillion.

Yesterday afternoon I walked into town to say hello to the Oikawa family, and repay their many kindnesses of last week (dinner, lunch, and more invitations) with a loaf of fresh-baked bread. I quickly found myself further in debt, as within minutes of entering their shop/home, I was given an assortment of beverages, two presents (one, a beautiful laquer bowl/platter made by the father), and a small album with several photos from the festival I attended with them several weeks ago.

After an hour of chatting, and playing with the 4yr-old grand daughter, they insisted I join them for dinner again, though this time we went out to a local yakiniku restaurant called "8 trillion". Upon inquiry of the reason of the moniker, I was told it was the proprietor's middle name and that, apparently, the parents felt the son would become very rich if they dubbed him a really big number. Before you think them greedy, realize thats only about 70 billion in American dollars.

Anyway, we had a lovely meal. In between bites of grilled beef, rice, scallops, pigs' feet (the father's 2nd favorite food), some kind of spicy tripe, and sips of beer and a strangely delicious yogurt-sake of sorts from Korea, the father told me of his love for classic American movies and his fond memories of going to the cinema as a young man. I know very little of American classics, but upon mention of For Whom the Bell Tolls (which I've enjoyed twice), his eyes lit up and he said "Ahhh, Gehri Coopah!....Ingurido Bahguman!...great!" He, too, had seen it several times.

Over the course of the meal, I was extended even more invitations to dine, visit, go to onsen and festivals together, etc. At the end of the evening they dropped me off at home and after several bows and many thanks and a few "I had a splendid time", the father just said "We will have even more fun the next time" and bid me goodnight.

Oh, almost forgot to mention, the father finally settled on a character for the final kanji of my name. He drew it for me, and explained its meaning as "boy". "Thoroughbred boy" I said to myself, rather liking the youthfulness of it. However, I later looked it up in the dictionary and the character actually means "baby/infant". I think I'd rather stick with just Thoroughbred.

Step up

I have been devoting the majority of my free periods at work to Japanese study the past two weeks, thus the lack of recent posts. Signed up (and paid $60) to take the the Japanese Language Proficiency Test (3rd level) in December. No idea if I can pass the thing, but if I do I will have the equivalent of an elementary school reading, writing, and grammar comprehension level.

Below, some pics of a beautiful hike I did with my friend Mark last Sunday, to the top of Kurikoma-san, the highest mountain in Miyagi prefecture (I think). A warm-up for what we hope is a late-season assault on Fuji-san in two weeks, assuming the weather holds and that we can figure out the buses from Tokyo to the trailhead.

Snakes in the Teacher Room

Yesterday after lunch, the janitor gave me a piece of grilled "mamushi", a poisonous Japanese snake. Though bony, it does indeed, taste like chicken. The other teachers wouldn't try it, but swore that I would feel a "power up" (from the trace of poison). It must not have effect on gaijin, because I was incredibly lazy all afternoon and evening.

A Family Trip, and I Get a New Name

Last week Japan celebrated one of its most important annual holidays, Obon, or the Festival of the Dead. Most families gather to remember their ancestors, and there are a great many festivals. One of my English conversation class students (Oikawa-san, who always comes with her 4yr grand daughter Haruna) invited me to join her family at the Nishi Monai Bon Odori festival in Akita prefecture. As most of my JET friends were travelling and my Japanese friends were busy with their families, I was happy for the invite.

The family (grandfather, grandmother, two daughters, and grand daughter) picked me up in their minivan and we began the 2 hour drive north along a curvy, mountain road. We stopped briefly at a convenience store for a bathroom break and to pick up Japanese fast-food, more specifically three kinds of sushi, Japanese pickles, fruit, and cold bottles of green tea. Snacking comfortably in the very backseat, I had distinct memories of family trips as a kid in the same minivan backseat , but with burgers, fries and large, sweating paper cups of Coke as nourishment instead. The family peppered me with questions, mostly in Japanese but using some English when they could. The spry grandfather,a lacquer artist, was especially keen to talk, and we conversed about a wide range of topics such as the population of North Carolina, the situation in Israel/Lebanon, the Japanese military, my recent vacation to the Philippines, the family's lacquerware shop, NASA space shuttles, and the possibility of a MLB World Series Champion vs. Japan League Champion match-up. The unbelievably cute 4yr-old entertained me with 4yr-old antics, slipped me a few gummi-bears and caramels from her candy stash, and asked the grandfather to lighten up when the conversation became too serious for her liking. I chatted too with with oldest daughter, who lives in Tokyo and speaks English quite well, but she passed me endless containers of sushi and other delights so our conversation was well interrupted by my noshing (After a primary refusal, I find it impossible to say "no" to 2nd and 3rd offerings of food...).

The festival, which centers around its Bon Odori (Dance of Obon) was quite interesting, though my ignorance of its 400yr old origins made it not nearly as special as my inclusion in the Oikawa family's attendance. A long line of people dressed in patchwork kimonos, all with their faces completely masked by black shrouds or peculiar shaped rice straw hats (the name in Japanese is "kasa", which means umbrella), marched and danced slowly and repetitively around fires in the street while old traditional songs blared from loud speakers. Merely standing and watching with the Oikawa family gave me a brief yet refreshing sense of inclusion, something I had not felt in some time.

As the rather unvaried dancing came to a close and the 4yr-old's cotton-candy high wore off, we returned to the car sweating and fanning ourselves in the stifling August night. Again we made a pit-stop at a market before beginning the long drive home. The grandfather returned with two bottles of sake, one as a gift for me, and the other to be drunk on the return trip.

In the back seat again, he liberally poured into little plastic cups, and told me of his love for rice wine. With each sip, his English became better and he at one point declared "If there was no sake, I would die!". Too, he expressed his gratitude for sharing the wine with him. Living in a house full of women, he claimed to be constantly henpecked, and even went so far as to call me his new son. Upon hearing this, the grandmother turned around from the front seat and in a manner that was both polite and curt, told me: "You are NOT our son, but you are welcome in our home anytime. Please come soon". The grandfather mostly ignored her and then began to consider a combination of kanji characters to represent my name . I told him of the serveral I had already received from other Japanese folks, but he seemed to dislike them. After some deliberation and more tiny cups of sake, he wrote down three characters of my new name (the Japanese pronunciation of my name has four syllables: Ma-i-ke-ru), though apologizing for his indecision on the fourth and final character. He explained the first three and why he felt they represented me. Though he had known me for several hours only, he believed me to be a powerful person and thus had selected "horse" for the first character. Not just a horse, but a grand horse--thus the second character means "great". He also believed me to be a fast learner, and and showed me a third kanji which means as such. He then put his hand on my shoulder and declared in English "You are a great person, a great horse, your mind is clever, you are....a thoroughbred!" He again apologized for the lack of the 4th kanji, but preferred to wait until his mind was clear to choose the final piece. I told him I was pretty happy with thoroughbred. He promised, "when you come to my house, I will make you a hanko" (a personal seal with one's kanji, which is used in place of signatures in Japan).

The 2hr journey home ended too quickly. Though it was nearly 1a.m. when we arrived at my apartment, I begrudgingly climbed out of the comfortable and familiar backseat. I had not enough words to thank them properly for all their kindness, and yet they replied with open invitations to visit their home and lacquer painting lessons. How could I say no?

Afternoon in Tokyo

Nearly forgot to recount the interesting day I had in Tokyo just before leaving for the Philippines.

Spent the afternoon with a friend who I met during JET orientations, and who now lives not far from Shinjuku, one of the busiest sections of Tokyo. Took a walk through a park in Koenji to people watch, and was not disappointed. A large number of people were out walking/carrying their dogs, some half of which were what I call "accessory dogs" and were wearing some kind of outfit. In fact, on the edge of the park, we passed a dog salon/dog boutique, offering hair colorings, cuts, clothing, and accessories.

A lot of practicing musicians as well, including two young guys jamming Robert Johnson's "Sweet Home Chicago" and my favorite, an old guy in running garb belting out blues tunes with his steel guitar and harmonica.



Afterwards, jumped on a train down to one of the city's amusement parks. [Trains are excellent spots for people-watching as well, I tried not to stare at the 6 year-olds riding solo, and the 50-something suits reading manga/comics and pornography on their way home]. At the amusement park, we had a short, but exhilirating ride on Thunder Dolphin, a rollercoaster that races past Tokyo Dome and seemingly twists and turns between the skyscrapers of Tokyo (and actually passes through hole in one building). Other riders in the line carried "Jet-coaster Stamp Books" and checked another one off in their quest to ride all the coasters in Japan. When we finally made it to the front of the queue, we unsuccessfully pleaded with the ride operators to allow us to wait for the next train so we could ride in the front car. Absolutely not. Stay in line, gaijin.

In the evening we had a beer at a "Standing Bar", a joint with no visible seating options and built almost completely out of bright, white plastic. The narrow room looked more like a spaceship corridor than a pub. We later found out there was some couches upstairs, but we were denied access--"Ladies only" said the employee. Moments later,we watched a group of four Japanese men walk upstairs, unimpeded. Japanese only, perhaps.