This is less of a fun post or a story post than an informative post. Many people do know, but some don't that this Christmas I'm not staying in Japan. I'm also not coming home. Instead, I'm going with a couple friends from here in Japan to India.
The plan is as follows:
1) Fly into Chennai
2) Immediately fly to Delhi
3) Christmas at the Taj Mahal
4) Mumbai for a few days
5) Goa for New Years. Party.
6) Hampi for gorgeous, freaky temples for a day or two
7) Flight out of Chennai
Obviously I can't give photos yet, but I promise bunches when I get back. And if anyone has some advice on India... I can't use it. My head is about to explode with planning this as is and if you tell me one more must-see spot to go, I'll believe you and try to make it work. Otherwise, Happy Holidays and I hope you are enjoying the snow back stateside.
Nuts to that. I need beach.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
Daftfacemeltingfunkfest / I've wanted to dance for 3 months.
I saw Daft Punk in Tokyo last weekend.
For some of the people who might read this (Does anyone really read this? The whole blog idea still feels like an exercise for the ego.) that means absolutely nothing, but for those that do understand what Daft Punk is and everything that it means, I know they're already as fired up as I was when I first heard they were coming to Tokyo and tickets were available.
The Famous Pyramid
For those of you that don't know, however, Daft Punk are a Parisian electronic music duo who have been doing their thing for about ten years now. They were around as electronic music was just getting started and were among those fighting to legitimize a genre of music that many people hated. Basically, they're awesome.
On the way to Makuhari Messe, a large convention center in Chiba in between Tokyo and Tokyo Disneyland, there were a lot of foreigners on the train and I was pretty confident that most of them were going to the concert. In fact, I knew lots of people who would be going and lots more who wished they had bought tickets in time. Our arms were sore from the Typhoid Vaccinations we'd gotten just hours ago in preparation for India, and we were tired from a cold night in our capsules at the hostel in Shinjuku. But none of that could drown out the excitement we were feeling at seeing one of our favorite artists at such a huge venue... and in freaking TOKYO!
The Pyramid and Graphs.
When we got off the Subway I took a mental note of the scalpers selling tickets right outside the train station. I was so glad I already had my ticket. We got in line, got searched, and I handed my ticket to the woman. "Honto?! Kono wa Ashita!"
Crap.
I didn't look at the calendar when I bought the ticket at the convenience store and accidentally bought one for the next day. Not to be discouraged, I gathered all of my (and my friend's money) and we sprinted back to talk to those same Yakuza scalpers that I'd noticed earlier. The two grown Japanese men in white track suits were really friendly and gave us a much better offer than the first Russian guy we talked to about swapping the tickets. I suppose maybe you shouldn't buy tickets from the Japanese mafia, but I prefer to think of it as correcting a mistake rather than doing something downright evil. After all, someone had to buy those tickets. If not, both my ticket for tomorrow, AND the one he had for that day would have been wasted. Really, I'm a hero.
When the curtain on the main stage lifted, the famous pyramid of light was center stage, the two Frenchmen were wearing their robot suits and masks (Google Image them if you want to see), and people were shoving hard for the front. It was like a tide, there would be a hard push forward, and then a hard push back a few seconds later. As the duo opened with "One More Time," a classic, the pushing was still going on, and it would be another five minutes of awkward dancing/ pushing/ standing in one place because there was no space to dance, until those that were tired of being pushed retreated, and the rest of us secured our dancing space.
Red Lights. It was awesome dammit! You could never understand!
It was amazing. The music was incredible and on a whole other level than listening to the CD for the Daft Punk parties like in College. The lights on their pyramid and the rest of the stage were awesome. Then, they turned on some red lights on their suits and helmets. Everyone went nuts. It was just lights... but... yeah, I know it sounds stupid now, but it was awesome then! The set was far two short at one hour and the brief encore did little to make me feel otherwise. But despite that, it was without a doubt the best DJ set I've ever seen.
At the end of the show, it was 8:30 or so (early I know) and once again, we had no hotel that night. As usual though, we met some people at the concert. After the train ride back to Tokyo, we spent a couple hours looking for a hotel in Shibuya, and were told every single one was full. Not much of a surprise at midnight though I suppose. After retreating to the 24 hr. McDonald's to contemplate our next move, and admittedly, I was ready to sleep at the McDonald's if need be (Lord knows I wouldn't be the first) the Japanese punker we met at the show offered to let us crash at his place a little ways north of Shinjuku. We hopped in a cab, picked up a couple beers at the convenience store and then stayed up a little longer watching an old Fugazi (DC Hardcore Punk band from the heyday back in the late 80's) that definitely made me miss D.C. until we all fell asleep on the floor.
It was another great trip to Tokyo, and yes, another example of making a Japanese friend and having them save us. Can't wait to go back and do it again.
For some of the people who might read this (Does anyone really read this? The whole blog idea still feels like an exercise for the ego.) that means absolutely nothing, but for those that do understand what Daft Punk is and everything that it means, I know they're already as fired up as I was when I first heard they were coming to Tokyo and tickets were available.
The Famous Pyramid
For those of you that don't know, however, Daft Punk are a Parisian electronic music duo who have been doing their thing for about ten years now. They were around as electronic music was just getting started and were among those fighting to legitimize a genre of music that many people hated. Basically, they're awesome.
On the way to Makuhari Messe, a large convention center in Chiba in between Tokyo and Tokyo Disneyland, there were a lot of foreigners on the train and I was pretty confident that most of them were going to the concert. In fact, I knew lots of people who would be going and lots more who wished they had bought tickets in time. Our arms were sore from the Typhoid Vaccinations we'd gotten just hours ago in preparation for India, and we were tired from a cold night in our capsules at the hostel in Shinjuku. But none of that could drown out the excitement we were feeling at seeing one of our favorite artists at such a huge venue... and in freaking TOKYO!
The Pyramid and Graphs.
When we got off the Subway I took a mental note of the scalpers selling tickets right outside the train station. I was so glad I already had my ticket. We got in line, got searched, and I handed my ticket to the woman. "Honto?! Kono wa Ashita!"
Crap.
I didn't look at the calendar when I bought the ticket at the convenience store and accidentally bought one for the next day. Not to be discouraged, I gathered all of my (and my friend's money) and we sprinted back to talk to those same Yakuza scalpers that I'd noticed earlier. The two grown Japanese men in white track suits were really friendly and gave us a much better offer than the first Russian guy we talked to about swapping the tickets. I suppose maybe you shouldn't buy tickets from the Japanese mafia, but I prefer to think of it as correcting a mistake rather than doing something downright evil. After all, someone had to buy those tickets. If not, both my ticket for tomorrow, AND the one he had for that day would have been wasted. Really, I'm a hero.
When the curtain on the main stage lifted, the famous pyramid of light was center stage, the two Frenchmen were wearing their robot suits and masks (Google Image them if you want to see), and people were shoving hard for the front. It was like a tide, there would be a hard push forward, and then a hard push back a few seconds later. As the duo opened with "One More Time," a classic, the pushing was still going on, and it would be another five minutes of awkward dancing/ pushing/ standing in one place because there was no space to dance, until those that were tired of being pushed retreated, and the rest of us secured our dancing space.
Red Lights. It was awesome dammit! You could never understand!
It was amazing. The music was incredible and on a whole other level than listening to the CD for the Daft Punk parties like in College. The lights on their pyramid and the rest of the stage were awesome. Then, they turned on some red lights on their suits and helmets. Everyone went nuts. It was just lights... but... yeah, I know it sounds stupid now, but it was awesome then! The set was far two short at one hour and the brief encore did little to make me feel otherwise. But despite that, it was without a doubt the best DJ set I've ever seen.
At the end of the show, it was 8:30 or so (early I know) and once again, we had no hotel that night. As usual though, we met some people at the concert. After the train ride back to Tokyo, we spent a couple hours looking for a hotel in Shibuya, and were told every single one was full. Not much of a surprise at midnight though I suppose. After retreating to the 24 hr. McDonald's to contemplate our next move, and admittedly, I was ready to sleep at the McDonald's if need be (Lord knows I wouldn't be the first) the Japanese punker we met at the show offered to let us crash at his place a little ways north of Shinjuku. We hopped in a cab, picked up a couple beers at the convenience store and then stayed up a little longer watching an old Fugazi (DC Hardcore Punk band from the heyday back in the late 80's) that definitely made me miss D.C. until we all fell asleep on the floor.
It was another great trip to Tokyo, and yes, another example of making a Japanese friend and having them save us. Can't wait to go back and do it again.
My Best Student Just Legimitately Kicked My Ass.
There are a couple things that dawn on you when you pull on a kendo mask
1) You're reasonably well protected now from the wooden sword you're about to be repeatedly hit with.
2) That itch on your masked nose is now so out of the reach of your gloved finger that you're just going to have to deal.
Kendo is Japanese fencing. It's a pretty common thing to practice in gym class in the winter when it's too cold to have the usual relay races or swimming. Since I can see my breath in the English Classroom I guess it's time for Kendo.
After a moment of meditation, students put on their armor. At my junior high school, these pieces included a large chestplate (with an adorable little pot belly) glove and wrist guards, a sort of protective kilt, and finally the helmet made of some thick woven material with a hard metal cage over the face. It's all pretty light and easy to move around in, except for the helmet, whose unforgiving chinguard makes it a little tricky to speak, let alone speak in your third language.
After watching my students take turns walloping each other for two minute intervals, it was easy to see how their personalities in class translated to their fencing. My best student, a 15 year old girl who just recently passed a very important national English test had a very slow, methodical approach to her fencing. She rarely made the first move and almost always found an opening on her opponent, the star baseball player who had at least a foot on her in height. After he made a quick move towards her, she would do a quick forward hop, bringing her sword down across his guard and then further extending and angling her swing with a sharp downward wrist movement, thus bypassing the additional defense given by the hilt of his sword. There were no huge hits, but they did connect.
One of my other students, really more of a class clown but still one of my favorites, had a much different approach. His tactic was to almost ignore his own defense completely in favor of landing as many quick swings to the gut as possible. While his strategy seemed to yield some results against his opponent, it was difficult to imagine how he and the one girl in the class would have matched up. I knew his tactics were unique when he turned and ran away from his opponent at one point to get away from his counter attack and all the other students started laughing.
When it was finally my turn, the Gym teacher strapped on my helmet and told me I would be matched up against my best student, the careful fencer who I'd watched take down someone twice her size not 10 minutes earlier. I had an itch on my nose, was fighting in my socks, but I knew that neither of those minor handicaps really made a difference for what was about to happen. Itch or not, I was about to get my foreign, non-sword weilding butt handed to me.
The first half of the fight, she went on the offensive, and I was able to deflect her attacks for what felt like a pretty long time (maybe 5 seconds in reality right?) before she landed a hit to my forearm just above where the guard ended. As we retreated back to our starting positions, she apologized endlessly, as expected, though it really didn't hurt at all. The next go, I had her on the defensive for a while, landing maybe one or two glancing blows to her gloves before she whacked me square on top of my head. Third try: smack to the head. Fourth: Two quick smacks to the head. The 2 minute buzzer sounded and the match was over. I don't think anyone bothered keeping track of the score, the fight being as one-sided as it was. She and I were both laughing as we sat down and began taking our armor off for the end of class meditation. As soon as her mask was off though, she turned to me one last time to say, "I'm sorry!"
I know she was going easy on me. I found out a couple days ago that she's the best in the class, and has fought in competitions. I'm lucky I got away with as few knocks to the head as I did. I am hopeful I'll be invited to class again so I can strap on my potbelly armor one more time. Maybe I can join the 7th graders. They're smaller and haven't been practicing as long. I might be able to beat a 12 year old... But 15 year old girls are way too tough for me.
1) You're reasonably well protected now from the wooden sword you're about to be repeatedly hit with.
2) That itch on your masked nose is now so out of the reach of your gloved finger that you're just going to have to deal.
Kendo is Japanese fencing. It's a pretty common thing to practice in gym class in the winter when it's too cold to have the usual relay races or swimming. Since I can see my breath in the English Classroom I guess it's time for Kendo.
After a moment of meditation, students put on their armor. At my junior high school, these pieces included a large chestplate (with an adorable little pot belly) glove and wrist guards, a sort of protective kilt, and finally the helmet made of some thick woven material with a hard metal cage over the face. It's all pretty light and easy to move around in, except for the helmet, whose unforgiving chinguard makes it a little tricky to speak, let alone speak in your third language.
After watching my students take turns walloping each other for two minute intervals, it was easy to see how their personalities in class translated to their fencing. My best student, a 15 year old girl who just recently passed a very important national English test had a very slow, methodical approach to her fencing. She rarely made the first move and almost always found an opening on her opponent, the star baseball player who had at least a foot on her in height. After he made a quick move towards her, she would do a quick forward hop, bringing her sword down across his guard and then further extending and angling her swing with a sharp downward wrist movement, thus bypassing the additional defense given by the hilt of his sword. There were no huge hits, but they did connect.
One of my other students, really more of a class clown but still one of my favorites, had a much different approach. His tactic was to almost ignore his own defense completely in favor of landing as many quick swings to the gut as possible. While his strategy seemed to yield some results against his opponent, it was difficult to imagine how he and the one girl in the class would have matched up. I knew his tactics were unique when he turned and ran away from his opponent at one point to get away from his counter attack and all the other students started laughing.
When it was finally my turn, the Gym teacher strapped on my helmet and told me I would be matched up against my best student, the careful fencer who I'd watched take down someone twice her size not 10 minutes earlier. I had an itch on my nose, was fighting in my socks, but I knew that neither of those minor handicaps really made a difference for what was about to happen. Itch or not, I was about to get my foreign, non-sword weilding butt handed to me.
The first half of the fight, she went on the offensive, and I was able to deflect her attacks for what felt like a pretty long time (maybe 5 seconds in reality right?) before she landed a hit to my forearm just above where the guard ended. As we retreated back to our starting positions, she apologized endlessly, as expected, though it really didn't hurt at all. The next go, I had her on the defensive for a while, landing maybe one or two glancing blows to her gloves before she whacked me square on top of my head. Third try: smack to the head. Fourth: Two quick smacks to the head. The 2 minute buzzer sounded and the match was over. I don't think anyone bothered keeping track of the score, the fight being as one-sided as it was. She and I were both laughing as we sat down and began taking our armor off for the end of class meditation. As soon as her mask was off though, she turned to me one last time to say, "I'm sorry!"
I know she was going easy on me. I found out a couple days ago that she's the best in the class, and has fought in competitions. I'm lucky I got away with as few knocks to the head as I did. I am hopeful I'll be invited to class again so I can strap on my potbelly armor one more time. Maybe I can join the 7th graders. They're smaller and haven't been practicing as long. I might be able to beat a 12 year old... But 15 year old girls are way too tough for me.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Mountain Child.
I have this thing about planning my vacations here in Japan. I just don't do it. This past weekend was no different. The morning the long weekend started, I was cleaning up my house after a TV Party and I still didn't remember the name of the town I was about to drive some number of hours to meet a friend and go hiking. Lucky for my friend and me, Japanese people seem to save us (like surfers in Kamakura for example) on a regular basis.
After a drive that was only slightly longer than anticipated, I arrived in Okutama. It's a long stretch of mountain town extending along a road and the river along which it runs parallel for a few miles within local train distance of Tokyo. First thing I noticed when I got there, was all the locals noticing me. I get stared at in Tenryu, but here, I got the distinct impression I was being stared down.
Tori on Mt. Mitake
After meeting up and spending an hour or so looking for parking, we hopped on the cable car up the mountain to the shrines, trails, and our youth hostel. The hostel was great and as soon as I walked in to the room I would be sharing with 6 other men, a 40 something Japanese man, hiking alone, introduced himself in English. "Nice to meet you. My name is hard to say, so please call me Yama-chan." Yama-chan basically translates as "Mountain Child."
Mountain child and I went off to dinner where we began discussing our plan for tomorrow.
Mountain Child: "What is your plan?"
Us: "We don't really have one."
GASP! Cardinal transgression number one. Japanese hikers nearly always have a plan ages in advance. We had broken a key rule.
Mountain Child: "I will leave at 7:30 tomorrow morning. When will you leave?"
Us: "Maybe 8..."
GASP! To a Japanese hiker, waking up past 5 is late, leaving past 6:30 is late, and going to sleep after 7 is late. I don't do that schedule well. In fact, the disparity in internal clocks between Japanese hikers, trekkers, mountain climbers, and the rest of the world is well documented. Lonely Planet's Japan hiking guide makes special note of this call foreign hikers attention to the early starts, early sleeping, and planning of hikers. They also state that these tenets are rigidly adhered to, regardless of such factors people might consider like, inclement whether, crowds, or any other such nonsense. The fact that the HALF HOUR DIFFERENCE between our start times elicited such a response, along with some aspects of my story of hiking Mt. Hakuba should be ample evidence of these facts.
Planning or some such nonsense
After being made to feel thoroughly inadequate we talked with the other lone hiker men populating the hostel that night, nearly all of whom spoke excellent English. After dinner, we looked at a map with Mountain Child to discuss our plan for tomorrow. After a while, we began to notice his use of the singular first person pronoun "I" shift to the plural first person pronoun, "We." This did not go unnoticed.
Sure enough tomorrow morning as I was munching on my breakfast in the common area, I learned that Mountain Child was planning on hiking with us that day. Sure why not. But we made him wait to leave til 8:30.
The hike was great, we saw a Rock Garden, waterfalls, and made it up three peaks during the 7 hours on the trail that day. Mountain Child was a great traveling partner too. He kept us from getting lost with his amazing skill at... reading Japanese. We fed him yaki soba and helped him carry his backpack during the hike. Despite his plan and concern about our starting time, his behavior on the trail was much closer to what you might think hearing his name. He was a lot of fun and loved showing us all the neat spots on the trail. A great time was had by all.
At the bottom of the hike, we said goodbye and exchanged emails. It was at this time that I learned that I had misheard Mountain Child the previous night when he had told us his name. Part of his name was "-yamayan," dangerously close to "-chan" explaining my mistake, but not changing my mind that his name was, in fact, Mountain Child.
It was another good day of hiking, and I had another great Japanese bath to close out the night.
After a drive that was only slightly longer than anticipated, I arrived in Okutama. It's a long stretch of mountain town extending along a road and the river along which it runs parallel for a few miles within local train distance of Tokyo. First thing I noticed when I got there, was all the locals noticing me. I get stared at in Tenryu, but here, I got the distinct impression I was being stared down.
Tori on Mt. Mitake
After meeting up and spending an hour or so looking for parking, we hopped on the cable car up the mountain to the shrines, trails, and our youth hostel. The hostel was great and as soon as I walked in to the room I would be sharing with 6 other men, a 40 something Japanese man, hiking alone, introduced himself in English. "Nice to meet you. My name is hard to say, so please call me Yama-chan." Yama-chan basically translates as "Mountain Child."
Mountain child and I went off to dinner where we began discussing our plan for tomorrow.
Mountain Child: "What is your plan?"
Us: "We don't really have one."
GASP! Cardinal transgression number one. Japanese hikers nearly always have a plan ages in advance. We had broken a key rule.
Mountain Child: "I will leave at 7:30 tomorrow morning. When will you leave?"
Us: "Maybe 8..."
GASP! To a Japanese hiker, waking up past 5 is late, leaving past 6:30 is late, and going to sleep after 7 is late. I don't do that schedule well. In fact, the disparity in internal clocks between Japanese hikers, trekkers, mountain climbers, and the rest of the world is well documented. Lonely Planet's Japan hiking guide makes special note of this call foreign hikers attention to the early starts, early sleeping, and planning of hikers. They also state that these tenets are rigidly adhered to, regardless of such factors people might consider like, inclement whether, crowds, or any other such nonsense. The fact that the HALF HOUR DIFFERENCE between our start times elicited such a response, along with some aspects of my story of hiking Mt. Hakuba should be ample evidence of these facts.
Planning or some such nonsense
After being made to feel thoroughly inadequate we talked with the other lone hiker men populating the hostel that night, nearly all of whom spoke excellent English. After dinner, we looked at a map with Mountain Child to discuss our plan for tomorrow. After a while, we began to notice his use of the singular first person pronoun "I" shift to the plural first person pronoun, "We." This did not go unnoticed.
Sure enough tomorrow morning as I was munching on my breakfast in the common area, I learned that Mountain Child was planning on hiking with us that day. Sure why not. But we made him wait to leave til 8:30.
The hike on Day 2 was up a mountain covered in Wasabi. REAL Wasabi.
The hike was great, we saw a Rock Garden, waterfalls, and made it up three peaks during the 7 hours on the trail that day. Mountain Child was a great traveling partner too. He kept us from getting lost with his amazing skill at... reading Japanese. We fed him yaki soba and helped him carry his backpack during the hike. Despite his plan and concern about our starting time, his behavior on the trail was much closer to what you might think hearing his name. He was a lot of fun and loved showing us all the neat spots on the trail. A great time was had by all.
Fuji san from the Hike on Day 1
At the bottom of the hike, we said goodbye and exchanged emails. It was at this time that I learned that I had misheard Mountain Child the previous night when he had told us his name. Part of his name was "-yamayan," dangerously close to "-chan" explaining my mistake, but not changing my mind that his name was, in fact, Mountain Child.
Yeah. Mountain Man.
It was another good day of hiking, and I had another great Japanese bath to close out the night.
Onsen for Beginners. Or the case for taking a 3 hour bath with strangers.
Onsen are the Japanese public baths. They are everywhere. There are three in Tenryu. You're never too far away from stepping into a boiling hot tub with dozens of (Japanese) members of the same sex for a good old soak. Whether you believe it upon first hearing or not, that's a good thing.
Baths are a real Japanese tradition (or so I understand). There are the huge public baths that one can find in the cities, like Iida near me, all the way down to slightly less extravagant tubs for one. Traditionally they would be fueled by underground hot springs, but the only real requirement is hot water. Having said that, I have seen -- this weekend in fact -- rusty old metal drums set on cinder blocks that are used as baths as well. Just put a wood fire under the drum filled with water and, voila, you're cooking yourself alive just like a crab. Fantastic.
What often holds foreigners back when visting onsen, are the unspoken rules, occasionally difficult treatment, and overall awkwardness of being surrounded by naked Japanese while being naked yourself.
There are lots of rules at an onsen such as:
1) Don't make eye contact. In a society where eye-contact is frowned upon generally, do you really think it would be encouraged when the person you're staring at is naked?
2) Shower before, after, between, and whenever you can. You may be bathing, but that part is to relax. You get clean before you even step in to the tubs. You sit down at a little shower station and lather up well (make sure the Japanese see you do this so they don't think you're still dirty). You should do this before and after the tub, but you should also rinse between the various tubs. More on those later.
3) No Tattoos. It's a Yakuza (Japanese Mafia) thing. Basically, it's not allowed. I know people who have been turned away at the door for having a little bit of that Popeye tattoo on their shoulder visible from under their t-shirt sleeve. You can get away with it sometimes, but don't expect the red carpet treatment. Expect stares.
4) Don't drop the towel. You carry a small hand towel with you at all times. You use it to scrub down in the shower and wipe off your face in the tubs. But absolutely do not let it fall in the tub water. That's bad.
Sound like a lot of rules? Now try doing it naked while being meticulously scrutinized on your execution of all of them. Admittedly, I felt a little paralyzed my first visit. I was alone and completely clueless. When I touched the water, and the ripples of my entrance reached the Japanese men in the tub, they all became aware of the foreigner and got up to leave. But then I went again with some Japanese men after a hike. They showed me the ropes. Now I go at least once a week and its a breeze. The real pleasure is visiting different onsen to see the different tubs they have, and believe me, there are a variety.
I have done several noteworthy tubs thus far: Beautiful outdoor tubs made of rocks and with little waterfalls like miniature versions of a pool on "Cribs." These are gorgeous (if cold) in the snow, or when the appropriately placed Cherry Blossoms are in bloom; indoor tubs infused with Yuzu, a Japanese citrus fruit; natural pools that reek of sulfur or other minerals; and my new favorite, an electro-shock Onsen that shoots electricity at you from little holes in the seat. No joke. It's supposed to make your muscles relax but I had more fun using those "relaxed" muscles trying to fight the electricity as it made them convulse.
There are others too, like the one near the Monkey Onsen (not THE actual Monkey Onsen I love so much) where the monkeys DO occasionally come down to visit. The town where the Monkey Onsen is located is actually made up entirely of Onsen (It's a hotbed for the underground springs) and Ryokan (Traditional hotels) that occasionally house Onsen. Another Onsen there has apples floating in it. The possibilities are endless. When you visit, there are people just walking around the street in their yukatta (robes) between the various Onsen. And (if you're into that sort of thing) there are co-ed Onsen (men and women are usually in completely separate areas within the buildings) that you can visit to sit and relax with ALL of your friends in one place. From what I hear though, These tend to attract the same types as a nude beach in Europe. Lots of tourists and nearly all men.
The real benefit of the Onsen is that, once the pressure surrounding the rules is gone, it is a great excuse to take an overly long shower. After a long cold hike 3000 meters up, there's not much that can top an hour (or two? three?) at an Onsen. It's a great way to slow down and clear your head after that debacle of a lesson for the 2nd graders. Or, after speaking at half-speed English for a whole week, a great place to meet up with other foreigners and have a legitimate excuse to just talk for a couple hours.
So if you come to Japan, don't be afraid. Embrace the steam and awkwardness. Every day of my existence here is awkward, the locations doesn't really matter. And as for the nakedness, well... Don't be a prude. But also don't expect photos attached to this post.
Baths are a real Japanese tradition (or so I understand). There are the huge public baths that one can find in the cities, like Iida near me, all the way down to slightly less extravagant tubs for one. Traditionally they would be fueled by underground hot springs, but the only real requirement is hot water. Having said that, I have seen -- this weekend in fact -- rusty old metal drums set on cinder blocks that are used as baths as well. Just put a wood fire under the drum filled with water and, voila, you're cooking yourself alive just like a crab. Fantastic.
What often holds foreigners back when visting onsen, are the unspoken rules, occasionally difficult treatment, and overall awkwardness of being surrounded by naked Japanese while being naked yourself.
There are lots of rules at an onsen such as:
1) Don't make eye contact. In a society where eye-contact is frowned upon generally, do you really think it would be encouraged when the person you're staring at is naked?
2) Shower before, after, between, and whenever you can. You may be bathing, but that part is to relax. You get clean before you even step in to the tubs. You sit down at a little shower station and lather up well (make sure the Japanese see you do this so they don't think you're still dirty). You should do this before and after the tub, but you should also rinse between the various tubs. More on those later.
3) No Tattoos. It's a Yakuza (Japanese Mafia) thing. Basically, it's not allowed. I know people who have been turned away at the door for having a little bit of that Popeye tattoo on their shoulder visible from under their t-shirt sleeve. You can get away with it sometimes, but don't expect the red carpet treatment. Expect stares.
4) Don't drop the towel. You carry a small hand towel with you at all times. You use it to scrub down in the shower and wipe off your face in the tubs. But absolutely do not let it fall in the tub water. That's bad.
Sound like a lot of rules? Now try doing it naked while being meticulously scrutinized on your execution of all of them. Admittedly, I felt a little paralyzed my first visit. I was alone and completely clueless. When I touched the water, and the ripples of my entrance reached the Japanese men in the tub, they all became aware of the foreigner and got up to leave. But then I went again with some Japanese men after a hike. They showed me the ropes. Now I go at least once a week and its a breeze. The real pleasure is visiting different onsen to see the different tubs they have, and believe me, there are a variety.
I have done several noteworthy tubs thus far: Beautiful outdoor tubs made of rocks and with little waterfalls like miniature versions of a pool on "Cribs." These are gorgeous (if cold) in the snow, or when the appropriately placed Cherry Blossoms are in bloom; indoor tubs infused with Yuzu, a Japanese citrus fruit; natural pools that reek of sulfur or other minerals; and my new favorite, an electro-shock Onsen that shoots electricity at you from little holes in the seat. No joke. It's supposed to make your muscles relax but I had more fun using those "relaxed" muscles trying to fight the electricity as it made them convulse.
There are others too, like the one near the Monkey Onsen (not THE actual Monkey Onsen I love so much) where the monkeys DO occasionally come down to visit. The town where the Monkey Onsen is located is actually made up entirely of Onsen (It's a hotbed for the underground springs) and Ryokan (Traditional hotels) that occasionally house Onsen. Another Onsen there has apples floating in it. The possibilities are endless. When you visit, there are people just walking around the street in their yukatta (robes) between the various Onsen. And (if you're into that sort of thing) there are co-ed Onsen (men and women are usually in completely separate areas within the buildings) that you can visit to sit and relax with ALL of your friends in one place. From what I hear though, These tend to attract the same types as a nude beach in Europe. Lots of tourists and nearly all men.
The real benefit of the Onsen is that, once the pressure surrounding the rules is gone, it is a great excuse to take an overly long shower. After a long cold hike 3000 meters up, there's not much that can top an hour (or two? three?) at an Onsen. It's a great way to slow down and clear your head after that debacle of a lesson for the 2nd graders. Or, after speaking at half-speed English for a whole week, a great place to meet up with other foreigners and have a legitimate excuse to just talk for a couple hours.
So if you come to Japan, don't be afraid. Embrace the steam and awkwardness. Every day of my existence here is awkward, the locations doesn't really matter. And as for the nakedness, well... Don't be a prude. But also don't expect photos attached to this post.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
I didn't travel.
I didn't go anywhere crazy this weekend. This isn't an entry like most of the others. Instead I worked.
Funny statistic: I have monday off after I work a weekend. SO, The number of Mondays I have had off can be taken as a sign of weekends worked. Last week one of the other teachers told me that it was the third Monday we had worked since the Semester had started. Third. That means I have worked three weekends a month since I got here. Wow.
The plus side to this: We went to the elementary school for a lecture where I do a visit every once in a while. The Junior high students were putting their bags away in the first graders' room to store them until after the lecture. I took that opportunity to walk around and see the kids' room since I usually see them in a play room.
In some, maybe most of the 6 or 7 desks, the students had saved the handouts I had given them in class. It was kind of heart warming to know that the kids were enjoying my class and getting something out of it, or at the very least they liked the pictures I drew for them. Regardless, the fact that just a few of them had different sheets as decoration on their desk meant that they weren't forced to by their teacher. Moments like that make me glad I'm in a small village, and I know all my kids... and their parents... and their cousins, brothers, grandparents, postmen, barbers, tofu delivery men...
Funny statistic: I have monday off after I work a weekend. SO, The number of Mondays I have had off can be taken as a sign of weekends worked. Last week one of the other teachers told me that it was the third Monday we had worked since the Semester had started. Third. That means I have worked three weekends a month since I got here. Wow.
The plus side to this: We went to the elementary school for a lecture where I do a visit every once in a while. The Junior high students were putting their bags away in the first graders' room to store them until after the lecture. I took that opportunity to walk around and see the kids' room since I usually see them in a play room.
In some, maybe most of the 6 or 7 desks, the students had saved the handouts I had given them in class. It was kind of heart warming to know that the kids were enjoying my class and getting something out of it, or at the very least they liked the pictures I drew for them. Regardless, the fact that just a few of them had different sheets as decoration on their desk meant that they weren't forced to by their teacher. Moments like that make me glad I'm in a small village, and I know all my kids... and their parents... and their cousins, brothers, grandparents, postmen, barbers, tofu delivery men...
Monday, October 22, 2007
Kyoto
Yesterday I went to Kyoto. That's 4 hours away. Kashima san, a friend from Urugi likes to drive. He likes to drive English Speakers. Tons of Jets from Nagano know him because they rode with him on trips to places all over, Shizuoka, Kyoto, Tokyo. He's famous among the English Teacher community.
He drove me to Kyoto where I was able to visit a few more shrines and temples. These were definitely some of the most well kept shrines I've seen thus far. Gorgeous. Even stumbled across a little parade festival, not unlike the one I saw last weekend in my own village. What with the "Washoi!" and all.
Next we met up with his friends. 'Met up' might be a little off though. Kashima picked me up after my walk on the Philosopher's Path and they were in the car. I had no idea what was going on and only a vague idea of his relation to the family. We went to see a Kimono Fashion show, then to a great outdoor market on a temple's grounds and last to the area outside the Emperor's Palace in Kyoto. The kids and I climbed trees while the family discussed where we would go for dinner.
He drove me to Kyoto where I was able to visit a few more shrines and temples. These were definitely some of the most well kept shrines I've seen thus far. Gorgeous. Even stumbled across a little parade festival, not unlike the one I saw last weekend in my own village. What with the "Washoi!" and all.
Next we met up with his friends. 'Met up' might be a little off though. Kashima picked me up after my walk on the Philosopher's Path and they were in the car. I had no idea what was going on and only a vague idea of his relation to the family. We went to see a Kimono Fashion show, then to a great outdoor market on a temple's grounds and last to the area outside the Emperor's Palace in Kyoto. The kids and I climbed trees while the family discussed where we would go for dinner.
The Incredible Growing Hike.
Kyoko called a few days before to correct the following items:
A) It's now two nights.
B) It's going to be very cold. I have complete foul weather gear, gloves, long underwear etc. right?
C) No more cabin. I need a tent.
D) Now we are hiking on ice. I have spikes for my boots right? (Good thing boots had just arrived...)
E) We would be hiking about 8 hours every day.
F) No I shouldn't worry about that Typhoon I heard about. (Silly American)
This was not the casual hike I had thought, but I wasn't going to wuss out. I do like hiking, I just don't like hiking on snow.
Day 1
I meet Kyoko at 6 am and we drive up to meet her hiking friends. We get to Hakuba and get hiking at about 10. We start off at an altitude of
about 1400 m. First day, we climb up to 2700 or so. Most of that is up snow and ice. The other people in the group are all older than me (At least twice my age) but they did a good job handicapping me by getting me to carry the tent and giving me the items they couldn't fit in their own bags. "You're so young!"
When we hit the top it was SO cold because of the wind. I never thought I would be so happy to have my City Year jacket from last year. After that we turned in at abut 6 in the afternoon. 5 of us in a 6 person tent, plus our bags. It was cozy and I was basically snuggling with everyone else and trying to avoid Kyoko sleeping at my feet. Lucky for me we went to be early though, because tomorrow we would wake up at 4 AM.
P.S. If you look close, just to the right of me, that's Mt. Fuji in the distance.
Day 2I hate 4 AM. After listening to the radio in the morning, we decide to change course because of the typhoon that will hit the next day. (Silly American nothing! I win!) Today we peak the first mountain at about 2900 m. So windy and cold on top I don't even want to take my hands out of my gloves and pockets. And maybe I'm a wuss, but every once in a while I do catch myself taking deeper breaths because the air is a little thin. then we walked along a ridge. We ditched out bags for a "2" hour hike to another peak at 2600 m. Ends up taking three hours. Today we were supposed to hike for 8 hours. At 6, I ask how much further out of curiosity. 2 more our navigator says. 2 hours later, I ask again. 2 more he says. I'm not the only one who's surprised. 2 hours later I ask again. 2 more. No just kidding, only 20 minutes. I couldn't understand the Japanese, but some people were definitely making fun of our navigator by this point. Wait, no his mistake. 1 hr. and 45 min. Just under 12 hours on the trail that day. My feet were killing me by the time we got to camp and set up our tent.
We were supposed to sleep late, til 9 or so. But at 5, the typhoon was too strong and our tent was flooded. Time to make breakfast and bail. The way home was really relaxing. We stopped to take an onsen (hot spring). It was a lot better than my first visit where the Japanese people just avoided me and even went so far as to leave tubs when the ripples from where I stepped in hit them. Being with other Japanese in the tubs seemed to somehow legitimize my presence. Travelling with older women is great too. We stopped for cake and tea twice. I love cake.
This was the first time I've ever really gone hiking to peak mountains. It was great. The group is training to climb Fuji. I've already told them I want to go to. We might give it a go next summer.
Link to more photos:
Mountain Climb October
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Tokyo + Surfers + Dancing
This past weekend I went back to Tokyo. My first visit was right off the plane, and it was less than ideal. Jetlagged, too many lectures, generally worn down. This time was much more entertaining. The one trick was the lack of a hotel Saturday night...
All of Tokyo and its neighbors like Yokohama were completely booked up as far as 2 hours out of the city. So when we went to Kamakura, where one friend's father was born and grandparents used to live and the site of a great (but dirty at the time courtesy of a typhoon) beach, we sort of expected to find something. We didn't. What we did find were some surfers who spoke English and were willing to help. Unfortunately, nope. No hotels in Kamakura that were within our price range. We thanked them for their help and went to have a drink to think. We decided to have another drink on the beach to think. Well, it helps me think. But granted we really weren't that worried.
On the way out to the beach, we ran into the surfers again. They were having a barbecue and invited us to join. Within 5 mintues of talking with them, one girl invited us to stay at her house. We played the polite game refusing a few times, but there was a lot of sideways glances like, "Let's totally do this." So we partied with the surfers all night. Stayed up late talking to the girl who let us crash at her house with her and her boyfriend, and then tucked in for bed. Japanese style. With me all but snuggling with the girl and her boyfriend... A tad awkward in my estimation but it was still a great night.
Sunday during the day we visited the shrines in Kamakura, including the Daibutsu, A giant statue of Buddha. Lots of fun. I don't care how many of these shrines I visit, each one is different and has something new. Not unlike the mummified remains of Saints on display in Spain.
That night was a huge party at a club in Tokyo. We danced til the sun came up by the outdoor poolside DJ. This trip was much more fun that the last visit. This doesn't really seem to capture how much fun it was... oh well.
Link to more photos:
Tokyo and Kamakura Photos
Monday, September 24, 2007
Nagano Round 2
So I was able to get back to Nagano recently to meet up with some folks. Not much planned for the trip, but a lot happened. It was good fun. A little karaoke, some monkeys, some ski jumping in the middle of the summer. Fantastic.
Note to anyone that wants to go see the monkeys at the onsen outside of Nagano city, go at the end of the day, near the 5 o'clock closing time. That's when they feed them. And its crazy.
The next day we went to go see ski jumping in Hakuba where they held the event during the winter games. Apparently there is also luge here later on and they let people try it... I know I'm interested. We made some friends with some folks at the ski jumping. They were fans from the area supporting a Japanese ski jumper. He came in sixth, but the way they were partying you would have thought otherwise. I've got to say its rare that I have a beer before 11 now that I'm out of college, but these people were throwing down at 10 in the morning.
Note to anyone that wants to go see the monkeys at the onsen outside of Nagano city, go at the end of the day, near the 5 o'clock closing time. That's when they feed them. And its crazy.
The next day we went to go see ski jumping in Hakuba where they held the event during the winter games. Apparently there is also luge here later on and they let people try it... I know I'm interested. We made some friends with some folks at the ski jumping. They were fans from the area supporting a Japanese ski jumper. He came in sixth, but the way they were partying you would have thought otherwise. I've got to say its rare that I have a beer before 11 now that I'm out of college, but these people were throwing down at 10 in the morning.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Sports Festivals
In Japan, they like sports. They like physical education. In recent years, the Japanese government has been pushing to extend class time in the most 'important' subjects, such as Japanese, Math, Science, and Physical Education. English sure isn't listed there. At any rate, the Sports Festival is like Field Day in America, except in the villages I work in, most of the village comes out to watch and support their children. Everyone from the Nursery school to the elderly have events, although the stars of the show are the kids in the elementary and middle schools.
There are all sorts of events ranging from classic runs and relays to the tug of war. My favorite event though, was a combination of steal the bacon and tug of war. The video below should give you a good idea, but basically 7 large bamboo poles are lined up in the middle of the field. The gun sounds, and two teams rush the middle in an attempt to pull as many poles as possible over to their side of the field. Pole = point. Pretty simple. Except that when you get to that last pole, It becomes a real fight. Here are some photos from the day, and a video of the "Bamboo Pull" (Rough translation).By the way, White won.
The photo below is a link to the album of a few more photos from the day. I was really sunburned, but it was a great time. As was the barbecue enkei (drinking party) afterwards.
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| Sports Day |
Friday, August 31, 2007
The Forbidden Lesson: Warning! Some lowbrow humor here...
In the States, as we all know, the litigious nature of our country has made the educational environment fairly rigid and structured, at least within the Public School System. Teacher - student interactions have a strict set of guidelines, and one of the first rules that any teacher, or any American for that matter knows, is that students should not hit each other and a teacher should probably not smack their students around. I have not seen a teacher outright thwack a student in Japan. But I have seen good natured sparring. It's common in class, if one of my students starts acting up, for another student to smack them (sometimes really hard) on the back of their head. If a student says something out of line, a teacher may feign to whack them on the head or shoulder too. The first time I saw this practice, it caught me a little off guard. I think my student who got smacked, a somewhat loud third grader, was caught only slightly more off his guard when his female classmate gave him a real hard smack on the crown of his head. The day that I saw a student punch his teacher in the stomach, however, and the teacher respond with a swift kick to the students back was a whole other step. What followed that first punch was a (mostly) pretend fight that evoked memories of the Kung Fu movies I watched back in America... where I had a DVD player. Teacher and student playfully punched each other in the stomach. A good time had by all. Imagine me looking on. My jaw was resting comfortably on the floor. There's even a game called Kancho where students try to catch the other off guard and thrust a finger up their friend's butt. Girls can also be front kancho'd. The points or value of the kancho is based on the effect, and depth of the thrust. I haven't seen this in school yet, but I did catch a little girl, maybe 3, kanchoing her mother at the bus stop one day.
One little match really jumps to mind though. I was teaching an elementary school class. There were 8 students in the class; a combination of first and second graders. Today was going to be a fun. We were going to practice introductions. Right off the bat, one first grader, Johnny (fake name) was louder than normal, as though he had eaten too much Mr. Donut for breakfast. As the class was getting settled, he threw a punch at his teacher's crotch. The teacher dodged, covered, and laughed. I laughed too, albeit a little nervously. But then Johnny did it again. Dodge. And again. Maybe 10 times he punched and the teacher dodged. After a particularly close call, the teacher told him to stop in about the least authoritative tone I've heard in my life. Johnny laughed maniacally and took his place., leaving his teacher nursing his inner thigh at the front of the class. With Johnny in place, I was able to really begin the lesson. Bear in mind that my objective according to the Ministry of Education with regards to the younger students is more to get them excited about learning English than to have them fluent by sixth grade.
The students stood in a circle, while I selected one student to stand in the middle. I blindfolded that student and spun them around. The lucky kid stumbled around the circle (With my guidance of course. I'm not that mean.) hands outstretched, trying to find one of their fellow students. When they did, they shook hands and the dialog went like this:
One little match really jumps to mind though. I was teaching an elementary school class. There were 8 students in the class; a combination of first and second graders. Today was going to be a fun. We were going to practice introductions. Right off the bat, one first grader, Johnny (fake name) was louder than normal, as though he had eaten too much Mr. Donut for breakfast. As the class was getting settled, he threw a punch at his teacher's crotch. The teacher dodged, covered, and laughed. I laughed too, albeit a little nervously. But then Johnny did it again. Dodge. And again. Maybe 10 times he punched and the teacher dodged. After a particularly close call, the teacher told him to stop in about the least authoritative tone I've heard in my life. Johnny laughed maniacally and took his place., leaving his teacher nursing his inner thigh at the front of the class. With Johnny in place, I was able to really begin the lesson. Bear in mind that my objective according to the Ministry of Education with regards to the younger students is more to get them excited about learning English than to have them fluent by sixth grade.
The students stood in a circle, while I selected one student to stand in the middle. I blindfolded that student and spun them around. The lucky kid stumbled around the circle (With my guidance of course. I'm not that mean.) hands outstretched, trying to find one of their fellow students. When they did, they shook hands and the dialog went like this:
"Hello."
"Hello."
"Are you name?" The first student uses the other's, "Hello," to guess which friend it might be.
"Yes its me! I am _____" or, "No I am not!" If they get it right, they switch places. They loved it.
After all the students had gone I thought they might like to watch their teacher stumble around dizzy and blindfolded like them. This was the biggest treat yet. The 1st grade teacher burst out laughing when I gestured towards him with my makeshift necktie blindfold and continued laughing as he tied it around his head. The students spun him around and backed away to their places in the circle, but began creeping back toward the middle, hands outstretched, in the hopes that their teacher would shake their hand. It was great fun. The teacher was laughing. The students were laughing. I was laughing.
Then, I noticed that one student hadn't gone back to his place in the circle. Before I could react, Johnny threw one last very calculated and direct fist, squarely into his blindfolded, dizzy, and completely unprotected teacher's crotch. His sensei doubled over... in pain... and laughing the whole way down. The student threw his hands up in triumph. All the other students laughed. When the teacher regained his breath, he laughed out loud, told Johnny not to do that again, and continued the game. He didn't miss a beat. But I guess students and teachers are just comfortable enough to joke around like that here. Even though it was surprising, it's refreshing. I think I could be punched by a student, but not Johnny. He's vicious.
Also, no photos to accompany this story. That would be a poor decision, BUT, here are some photos from my trip to Nagano city for our Prefectural Orientation. 
Nagano and Zenkoji
Addition: This was written a while ago. As of this writing I have started calling this the forbidden lesson. I did it again with another first grade class and had a similar incident, only this time, I had the close call. Recently, I had another class with Johnny. The same teacher took another hit. And I did too this time. It's a mixed blessing that the students are now fairly comfortable with me...
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Arrival in Tenryu
I arrived in Tokyo's Narita airport two weeks ago. A welcome end to a long flight made longer by the two and a half hour delay before take off in Minneapolis thanks to a Japanese English club in the United States that was running late for their flight. One of the students told me on the plane that they had been visiting Nebraska once we had gotten moving. I've never had any urge to visit Nebraska and was having trouble understanding why anyone would fly across the globe for a rousing week of corn and... is there anything else? When I think of Nebraska, I think of rural. 
Tenryu is the Japanese manifestation of the idea of rural and a few more trips to Nebraska in my life might have prepared me a little more for what would be awaiting me here in Japan. For those I haven't already told about Tenryu-mura, I'll give a few sentences background. 'Ten' means, 'heaven.' 'Ryu,' means Dragon. Just like in Streetfighter. 'Mura' identifies Tenryu as a village, there's also Tenryu-kyo up the road a bit. That's a town. You get the idea. Tenryu has fewer than 2000 villagers spread out over a pretty wide area, with a modest main area clustered around the river, schools, village office, and train station. Of that population, The majority are over 50. There's a modest number of younger parents, and I teach all of their children. In the junior high school where I teach most days, there are 27 students. My smallest class has 6, the largest, 13. I haven't had class yet, but I've already met most of them.
Tenryu is the Japanese manifestation of the idea of rural and a few more trips to Nebraska in my life might have prepared me a little more for what would be awaiting me here in Japan. For those I haven't already told about Tenryu-mura, I'll give a few sentences background. 'Ten' means, 'heaven.' 'Ryu,' means Dragon. Just like in Streetfighter. 'Mura' identifies Tenryu as a village, there's also Tenryu-kyo up the road a bit. That's a town. You get the idea. Tenryu has fewer than 2000 villagers spread out over a pretty wide area, with a modest main area clustered around the river, schools, village office, and train station. Of that population, The majority are over 50. There's a modest number of younger parents, and I teach all of their children. In the junior high school where I teach most days, there are 27 students. My smallest class has 6, the largest, 13. I haven't had class yet, but I've already met most of them.
The past two weeks have been holiday time in Japan. It's Obbon, a time for acknowledging and respecting ancestors as it has been explained to me by my Japanese friends. Obbon is a great time for Japanese families to get back together in their hometowns and villages and have some real quality time. No friends to speak of and no ancestors have made the past two weeks a little slow paced. But then last Thursday, I was finally thrust in front of the village at the annual Summer Festival.
The whole town, or at least those that are still capable of walking or being carried came out to the Junior high school's soccer field for a good old time with music, food, and fireworks. I met up with my vice principal and then we went down at 7 or so for our first beer and yakitoris. On the way, I was introduced to everyone. Every student I would teach, their parents, the PTA. I chatted with the Mayor and my bosses at the Board of Education. Lots of people were decked out in Kimonos, 
including many of my kids, while some people brought a little feeling of country from back home to me. The wife beaters, and bleached blond pigtails made it feel a little more like home, but not quite in a way I might have been expecting. The evening was a lot of fun, particularly as the fireworks started and the dancing began. By dancing, I mean 8 or so basic movements to a beat that would repeat for maybe 20 minutes. Then a new dance would begin and we would do it in the opposite direction around the circle. I joined a group of younger students and their matronly dance teacher to try to pick up the steps. 
I was awful, but the gesture was appreciated and, slowly, village members with a few beers under their belts began to filter through the circle and find me to test out the English they had learned back in high school, or to get their children to translate for them. The most commonly asked question, "How old are you?" Immediately followed by, "You look so young!" This is the gist of every conversation I've had in Japan thus far. But I stuck around until the night ended fielding questions and fanning the humid country air off my face. By the end of the night I had even made friends with a few people closer to my age in the village getting back to their roots for Obbon. They all left their email addresses in my hand and left from the train station the next day to return to the cities they now worked or studied in.
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