Mike in Japan

73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 4

2011-09-18T11:19:00.001+09:00

Hour 49: 9:00a - "You're paroled? Congrats! Time to find yourself a woman and get into trouble." - Text message from Chris, hours after I was discharged.

I eventually fell asleep but spent most of the night tossing and turning. Hospital beds are not comfortable. For places that are supposed to aid in convalescence, hospitals sure are uncomfortable, drab, boring, tasteless places. I would have felt a lot better with some sun, some decent food, and a colour scheme other than "neutral."

My wound hurt less than it had the day before. Where before I could walk but only slowly, today I was able to walk at full stride. When I took my breakfast tray down the hall to drop it off, I bumped into the nurse who was with me the first night and she was shocked to see me up and mobile only two days after being unable to even sleep. I smiled and thanked her for the other night and then waltzed off down the hall, leaving another confused nurse in my wake.

The doctor was quite pleased with the speed of my recovery and after poking me some more, asked me when I'd like to go home. I smiled and said, "Now." She laughed and said that if my blood test tomorrow morning was good then I could go home tomorrow morning. I was ecstatic. If she had told me I'd have to stay a few more days I would have tried to bribe her. I'm sitting here on a Saturday writing this and according to the original estimation I'd still be in the hospital right now -- possibly till Sunday. I would have gone insane.

Aimee came for lunch and I told her the good news. Neither of us wanted to get our hopes up, but it was difficult since I was no longer in pain and didn't appear to have developed an infection. We lounged around talking about how nice it would be once I was home, Aimee gagging down some unappetizing sushi from the grocery store, me gagging down rice gruel. Not exactly a good note for Aimee to go to work on, but someone had to earn the money while I was infirm.

I spent most of the day reading and working on a little Japanese. A couple of the nurses were pretty impressed that I was studying while recovering from surgery. Not impressed enough to slip me a little extra (or decent) food, but oh well. Aimee had brought me some pears, bananas, watermelon, and cashew nuts, so I was well stocked.

Our friend Chris came to visit me after he finished work and he brought me a sandwich -- a true friend. I stashed it in my refrigerator for breakfast and I walked him through the whole ordeal. I was no longer hooked up to various machinery (even my IV had been removed) so it was a little less dramatic. I also didn't have any pictures -- another regret from this experience. Neither Aimee nor I were thinking about posterity, apparently.

Chris left around 8:00 and I went to bed to read, hoping to outlast my laughing neighbour. No such luck though -- his movies were more entertaining than my book. I didn't have as much trouble falling asleep as I thought I would though. I guess my rage toward him was dissipated slightly by the likelihood that I'd be leaving the next day, so I slept a little better. No dreams though, which was surprising. I remember that I was having a dream while I was being operated on, but since that one I can't remember anything else. I would have thought that being doped up would produce some good ones, but alas...

I was woken up by a nurse roughly shaking me, which I took as a good sign: If I can be roused roughly then I must be good to go home, I thought. She took my blood and then what I hoped would be my last breakfast arrived.

Aimee snuck in 30 minutes before visiting hours started and we laid in bed relaxing. She had only been back in Japan for 10 days before I got sick, so we hadn't spent all that much time together between work and socializing. Laying in a hospital bed together wasn't exactly romantic, but it was nice.

My doctor, another doctor, and three nurses all showed up shortly after Aimee arrived and we weren't sure at first what to make of them. Either the news was dire, or they just wanted one last look at the foreigner. Luckily it was the latter. I was given my biopsy results (negative) and my doctor said my blood work was okay, so I was free to go. I thanked them for everything, we packed my bags, and I damn near skipped out of that hospital just after 10:00a Wednesday morning -- 73 hours after my operation started.

The sandwich Chris gave me was the first thing I ate when I got home and it was delicious. Does the penal system have a program in place where you can request a first meal after you're paroled, like you can request a last meal before you're executed? Because that meal would taste really, really good. Probably better than a last meal; I think if you knew that you were eating your last meal it would taste like ashes.

It's Sunday morning now and I've been out of the hospital since Wednesday. I'm totally mobile, I feel fine, and there's only the slightest bit of pain under my incision -- and only if I push hard. My vacation ends on Tuesday, when I start work again.

Somehow I forgot to mention that my doctor said I had the smallest appendix she'd ever seen -- about the size of my pinky finger. So if I've learned nothing else from this experience, at least I've learned this: Size does matter, but not how I originally imagined it, and possibly only to cute Japanese surgeons.

73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 1
73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 2
73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 3

73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 3

2011-09-17T15:03:00.000+09:00

Hour 25: 9:00a - "Boredom is rage spread thin." - Paul Tillich

I woke up in a tangle of IV tubes, heart monitor wires, blood pressure gauge hoses, and thrombosis prevention compression socks/boots. But I woke up in very little pain. Aimee came around 9:00 o'clock and I told her my harrowing tale. She wasn't impressed that more wasn't done to help me, but she was pleased to see me feeling much better. "You're my little invalid now," she cooed, clearly pleased with her attempt at humor.

The nurse from the night before was gone, so a different one came by and was shocked to see me not writhing in pain. I guess the report from the night before was pretty damning. I was sitting upright on the bed talking to Aimee, the only evidence of my ordeal the sweaty, disheveled sheets beneath me. The nurse took my blood, temperature, and blood pressure, and then left, no doubt confused that my smile wasn't a grimace.

My cute doctor came in next and she too was surprised by my rapid convalescence. She poked my stomach expecting me to pass out in pain, but I didn't feel much more than some slight discomfort. The only place that hurt was below the incision where my abdominal muscles were stitching themselves up. The doctor shrugged and said I could eat solids for lunch and drink tea and water, but no juice.

Meals in Japanese hospitals are as bland as their counterparts in Canada -- and likely the world over. However, they do serve a lot of vegetables. They're steamed and flavorless, but they're vegetables nevertheless. Where Japanese meals really differ is that they give you no utensils.

I thought they forgot to bring them so I rang the nurse and she asked me, quizzically, "You didn't bring your own?" Um, no, I didn't bring my own utensils when I came to the hospital in pain the other night. She left and brought me a spoon and then told me that I could buy one downstairs after my meal. When I finished my lunch I scratched the number off the back indicating what wing it was from and put it in my drawer. Buy my own spoon indeed.

Aimee left shortly after I gagged down lunch and boredom promptly set in. I had my Kindle with me (I anticipated having to provide my own entertainment, not my own utensils) with a bunch of books I wanted to read, but I was still bored. I think setting or environment must have a lot to do with boredom. Reading at home in a relaxing chair, or lounging outside next to a lake or river with a book -- reading in places like these is not boring. But reading on an uncomfortable hospital bed? Boredom defined, somehow. Maybe it was because that was the only option I had.

Dinner came around and I gagged down some more rice gruel and bland vegetables. Even the food was boring, as unstimulating to the palate as the environment was to the senses. Boredom inside my body and out. Surely sleep would entertain me; painless, deep sleep.

Meet my first neighbour. To my right, with his mouth aimed right at the thin partition dividing my "room" and his: the snorer. Light out, head hits the pillow, snoring begins. For 30 minutes. Straight. And then... silence? Strangely enough, yes. His snoring could be heard down the hall; it rattled the walls; it surely threw off the timing of pace makers. And it blew itself out after 30 minutes, the bass drum sound turning to the sweet sounds of a baby breathing. Peace.

Meet my second neighbour. Directly across from me, headphones on, laptop on, what must have been the funniest movie ever made playing on his computer because he would not. stop. laughing. Not a loud, obnoxious laugh, though. This could barely be described as a laugh. It was a gentle sucking in and expulsion of air; a polite noise to indicate that yes, what was said was funny; a Japanese, I'm-in-a-hospital-and-must-be-polite sort of laugh. The most irritating laugh I've ever had to suffer.

An obnoxious laugh could be stopped. Ring the nurse, point to the offender's area, and sleep. But how could I call a nurse for a little snicker, a soundless chortle? Call her over and have her wait? "You'll hear it, I promise! It's unbearable!" There was nothing to be done. The rage that had unfolded itself into boredom concentrated itself into an impotent wish that the man's computer would explode, ending my suffering.

73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 1
73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 2
73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 4

73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 2

2011-09-16T12:55:00.003+09:00

Zero Hour: 9:00a - "Don't Thank Me; Thank the Knife." - Dr. Hibbert

Minor surgeries like gall bladder removal and appendectomies are typically done by laparoscopic surgery. Unfortunately for me, I was in the city hospital -- as opposed to a private hospital -- and they lacked the equipment for laparoscopic surgery. So I had a good ol' fashioned laparotomy. For those of you uninterested in Wikipedia articles: in laparoscopic surgery, small holes are cut into you (3-4) for a camera, a knife, and a tweezer like apparatus to grab your diseased organ; in a laparotomy, your abdominal wall is sliced through to gain access to the diseased organ. Laparoscopic surgery has a significantly shorter recovery time since the damage to muscle is minimal. Laparotomy recovery time is longer (and more painful), but leaves you with a significantly cooler scar. And my dad always told me that chicks dig scars.

When I was wheeled out of the room where I changed into my surgery outfit (they're as bad here as they are back home), two of the guys from work had arrived and were standing with Aimee at the end of the hall. I opened my legs and flashed them, but being a modest country, the nurse had asked me to leave my boxers on while I was changing. Everyone laughed nonetheless. (Except for 10 excruciating hours of pain post-operation, I made light of this entire experience).

The cute doctor and her team of nurses were in the operating room and we greeted each other as if we were meeting for the first time -- it was very formal and not at all surprising. I jumped up onto the table and laid back and we practiced the things they would ask me after the operation was finished to make sure I was coherent: Open your mouth; Squeeze your hand; Open your eyes; Breathe. I know all these things regularly but we practiced them several times so they were familiar. I have no recollection of whether or not I said them.

After my Japanese lesson they put the gas mask on me. I started to feel drunk and I told them and everyone laughed. Then I asked if I was the first foreigner anyone had operated on, and that got a really good laugh. My greatest regret is that I cannot remember anyone's answer.

There's an episode of Seinfeld where Jerry tells George that the secret to being a comedian is going out on a laugh. George spends the episode leaving meetings and so forth after making everyone laugh. I followed this rule to a tee. Everyone was laughing and I felt pretty good and then I was out. The next thing I remember was someone saying "Stanton-sama" and I was being lifted from the operating table to a bed. After that I remember hearing my co-workers discussing Sex and the City (the male ones; Aimee and the female were discussing something else, I later found out).

The pain started promptly when I got to my room, and it was my own doing. I mentioned that we practiced some sentences earlier. The one I practiced more than any other was "Sore o nuite kudasai." Or, "Please pull that out."

The English speaking doctor told me I'd have a catheter for the operation; pretty standard procedure. He told me it would be removed around 6 hours after I woke up; not so standard procedure? "Um, what if I want you to take it out earlier?" I asked. He said to just tell the first person I spoke with that I wanted it removed. So I practiced that very simple sentence over and over because I wasn't sure how my Japanese would be right after surgery. Pretty good, apparently, because whomever I spoke to removed it promptly. Painful, but much less painful than waiting 6 hours till I was fully coherent.

I dozed on and off for the next couple of hours while Aimee sat next to me, alternatively upset because I was in pain, and enthralled by her book while I slept. I think she preferred it while I slept, and rightly so -- I'm orders of magnitude grumpier when I'm in pain than when I'm, let's say, hungry. In particular, I don't like to be touched. So I was writhing in pain on the bed and Aimee's (anyone's) first instinct was to touch me, but that just made me lash out.

When the pain became unbearable I asked for relief. The nurse came and hooked up this bag full of milk-looking fluid to my IV and told me it would take 30 minutes to empty into my bloodstream. It didn't help. The 30 minutes came and went, but 20 minutes after that the pain was worse. I asked for something stronger and they brought a bag of heavy-duty pain killer. I have no idea what it was but it worked wonders; I was in pain one moment and then blissful the next. It was 30 minutes before visiting hours ended so Aimee snuck in a kiss while I was high and left. I don't know how long I slept for.

When I woke up again I was in pain. But dull pain; pain waiting to be painful. I wanted to outsmart this pain so I called the nurse again and asked for more medication. But she said I couldn't have any. The stuff they had given me earlier was too strong to give regularly; I'd have to wait 3.5 hours before I could have something else. And the something else couldn't be the strong stuff -- it had to be the ineffectual milk. I was livid. The pain sensed weakness and launched its assault.

Slowly, I could feel the pain spreading from my incision into my lower abdomen, and then up into my stomach, stopping just below my ribs. My entire mid-section was screaming. It felt like I was being stabbed to death, but somehow gently enough that I wouldn't die. I pushed the buzzer repeatedly for the nurse but they kept telling me the same thing: they couldn't give me anything. I asked for a doctor and this took forever because there wasn't one in the wing I was staying in.

By the time the doctor arrived I was in tears, almost screaming. My legs were kicking back and forth and I was alternating between squeezing the sheets and pounding the mattress. The doctor must have been moved by my death throes as he authorized the nurse to sedate me -- but with the ineffective milk. I almost died. And later, I think the nurse thought I had.

I watched every drop drip into my IV for 30 agonizing minutes, and then lay there for another 10 building a hatred in my head so powerful it would have infected any remaining vestigial organs, had I had any -- good riddance, tonsils and appendix. The milk did my body no good. Then suddenly -- I have no idea how much time passed -- I found myself on my side, in rapture. I felt nothing. I didn't even respond when the nurse asked if I was alright. I didn't respond again when she asked more urgently. Nor did I flinch when she grabbed my wrist to check my pulse, presumably to make sure she hadn't just killed me.

73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 1
73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 3
73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 4

73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 1

2011-09-15T16:06:00.002+09:00

Saturday, 10 September, I got up at 8:00a for work, as I usually do. My abdomen felt a little cramped, but I didn't think anything of it. I ate breakfast as usual, showered as usual, and went to teach my classes as usual. The irritation persisted throughout the day, and I thought maybe I slept funny. When I got home we went out to celebrate a friend's birthday and the irritation persisted throughout the night at about the same level. Neither of us thought much of it; we joked that maybe I had appendicitis.

At 4:30a Sunday morning (11 September), I woke up in a little bit of pain for the first time. It dawned on me that maybe I should feel around my abdomen to see if the pain was localized. And it was -- above my appendix. I got up to use the washroom and then laid back down in bed and felt around again. Yup, right above the appendix. I turned to Aimee and asked, "Are you awake?"

"Ugh," she groaned.

"I think I'm sick."

Some more poking by me and some groggy getting dressed by Aimee preceded our walk downstairs to the convenience store to find out where the closest hospital was. Just down the street, luckily. Rather, luckily if it was open.

We walked through the doors of the hospital and the place was dark. No lights. No noise. No people. We poked around and I called out once for someone behind the counter (the counter that had a bank of computers with their screens on. I knew I wasn't too far gone because I still raged about wasted energy.), but no one was around. On our way back out a patient came out of the elevator and he explained to us that the hospital wouldn't be open today because it was Sunday. This floored us. In Canada hospitals are open all day, every day (although apparently emergency care [24 hour hospitals] is a thing from 1950 onward). Furthermore, you have to call first in Japan; you can't just show up.

We went home and checked Google for hospitals in Nagoya that were open on Sunday and found a couple. We called one and they were closing in 15 minutes (so if I showed up with my guts in my hands...?). We called the second one and they were open, so we jumped in a cab before they could send me and my primed appendix elsewhere.

Once we finally got inside the hospital, things became normal. They smell as sterile as any North American hospital; they're bureaucratic; the tests are as routine; one of the doctors even spoke English. One important difference, though, was the wait time: nonexistent! We walked in the door, I handed them my card, and within 10 minutes I was being examined by two doctors and three nurses. I was in the examination room by around 6:30a and by 7:30 I had had bloodwork and a CT scan. By 7:35 we were waiting for a surgeon to consult with the other two doctors (and when a cute Japanese woman walked by I said to Aimee, "I bet that's my doctor," to which she rolled her eyes) and by 7:40 I was diagnosed with acute appendicitis.

The English speaking doctor asked if there was any Japanese person we could call to have them help translate, because some of the vocabulary is pretty technical, so I went through my phone and called everyone I knew. However, since we were all out late with most of them the night before, no one answered their phones. I finally got a hold of one of the three people who work in personnel at our company, but none of them were able to come before 9:00, which is when the doctors wanted to operate. "Do your best," I said to the English speaking doctor.

There's not a lot to know about appendectomies, surprisingly; they're pretty routine. He drew a map of my large intestine, appendix, and blockage, and explained what they would do. He told me the possible complications and the recovery times, and introduced me to my doctor: the cute Japanese woman who walked by earlier.

Mike: 1 Aimee: 0

73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 2
73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 3
73 Hours in a Japanese Hospital: Part 4

Why Dogs Bark at Other Dogs

2011-05-22T21:40:00.001+09:00

Aimee and I were in Osu with our friends Chris and Caitlin, and their friend Anne, this afternoon. The girls wanted to go shopping and Chris and I opted to go wandering rather than suffer being strung along to various shops. We're both horrible to go shopping with, we've been told, and that wasn't about to change in a single afternoon.

We were wandering around aimlessly when I noticed a tall white guy walking in the opposite direction with his Japanese girlfriend. I raised my eyebrows in a male "I acknowledge your existence" sort of way, as I usually do when I make eye contact with men, and he laughed. I realized that I had looked at his Japanese girlfriend before I made eye contact with him, and he must have seen me do it, and when I raised my eyebrows he must have thought I was somehow complimenting him. I would have laughed in the same derisive way had our situations been reversed.

I laughed and told Chris what had happened and he laughed and said, "After living in Japan I now understand why dogs bark at other dogs."

I laughed again because I instantly understood what he meant. We're all foreigners in Nagoya but we're not tourists: we live here, we work here, we have lives here. We've got our social circles, our local bars, our grocery stores, our neighbourhoods; we have the same things that are "ours" that we all had back in North America. So when we see a foreigner we all instantly wonder what they're doing in "our" city.

The phenomenon is probably more strongly felt where we live than if we lived in a tourist city, like Kyoto or Tokyo. No one comes to Nagoya for tourism. There are a couple of huge office towers here and a single castle - nothing too interesting. It'd be like going to Canada to see Hamilton. So any foreigners we see here almost certainly work here. They're not just some dog who happens to be passing through our park; they've moved in and we want to know why.

This feeling isn't malicious, but it's definitely stronger than the feeling of curiousity when we see foreigners in our home towns. I think it stems from the experiences with douchebags that we've all had since living here. The obnoxious foreigners who get angry when waitresses don't speak their language; the obnoxious foreigners get upset when they can't pay with credit cards; the obnoxious foreigners who lose their minds when they see a sign without English on it. You get my point.

We all love that we have the opportunity to live and travel abroad, and we think that everyone should live in a foreign country for part of their lives. It's a life changing experience and everyone, douchebag or otherwise, should try to experience it. Nevertheless, we still all feel like barking a little when we see someone we don't know.

Happy Japaniversary?

2011-03-13T20:04:00.005+09:00

11 March 2011 was our one year anniversary in Japan. We've got lots of goodbye parties and end-of-the-year parties to go to this month, so we decided not to do anything special. This was a good idea, as The Ring of Fire gave us something much more memorable than an expensive dinner.

Neither of us have been in a country during a natural disaster. The closest thing to a natural disaster I've experienced was a big ice storm in 1998. So this has been a very interesting experience for us, even though we're 400km south of where the earthquake's epicenter was.

To start with, I've never felt an earthquake last for 2 minutes. Since we're 400km from the epicenter, what we felt was probably only a magnitude 3 (I'm guessing based off of other 3s I've felt since living here) but it lasted for so long. The other earthquakes I've felt have lasted for 10 seconds. Maybe. Sometimes it has taken me the duration of a quake to even recognize that one was happening and I wasn't just dizzy. But this one I had time - lots of time.

I was eating a sandwich in the lunchroom when I felt a train go by (the school I was at is next to a train station) and the building did its usual rumbling. But when the train was gone the building was gently swaying. I thought it might be an earthquake, and after sitting in my chair for 10 seconds trying to figure out if I was just dizzy or not, I got up and stood in the doorway. For 30 seconds. And the building still swayed. I could hear two of the staff members at the front of the school talking, and they didn't sound alarmed, so I walked up.

"Uh, this is an earthquake, right?" I asked. The ladies paused, tilted their heads to the side in consideration of my question, and concluded that yes, the gentle swaying of our building was indeed an earthquake. They started to giggle softly at the strangeness of it; "I thought I was just dizzy," one of them laughed. I started laughing too and said I had thought the same thing. The other lady took out her iPhone and checked a website that reported earthquakes at almost the second they happened. The long time it took for the page to load, and not the way her face sagged when she saw the magnitude of the earthquake at its epicenter, should have been the first indication that maybe this wasn't a small, localized earthquake.

"There was an 8.6 (report at the time: I think it has since been raised to an 8.9) earthquake in the Tohoku area," she said quietly. What had before been humorous laughs at the gentle swaying of the lights and 100kg air conditioner hanging above our lobby, and the silliness of thinking we were just dizzy, turned to somber thoughts about what our office would have looked like after 2 minutes of an 8.6 magnitude earthquake.

Even though I knew the size of the earthquake, the reality of the situation didn't start to take hold until after work when I checked my phone. My shift started at 3:00, just 15 minutes after the earthquake, and lasted until 9:00. When I took my phone out of my pocket it was lit up like a Christmas tree: four missed calls, 6 unread text messages, 4 unread emails, and countless Facebook notifications. My train ride home was spent texting one of my sisters and drafting an email to send to family and friends when I got home.

More troubling than the numerous attempts that were made to contact me was the visible frustration of the Japanese passengers trying to contact people with their cell phones. Almost everyone on every train I've been on is doing something with their cell phone, but it's usually mindless, meant to pass the time. On this night, everyone was focused and intense. I knew that 8.6 magnitude earthquakes were bad, and knew that the number of people trying to get in touch with me was indicative that the aftermath was terrible, but seeing people who live with earthquakes year-round so worried was really disconcerting.

I spent two hours when I got home writing emails, texting, and calling family and friends back home to let them know we were alright. I'm thankful that I'm alive in a time when it's so easy to get in touch with people. Had I not been working, I would have been able to let people know that we were alright before they even woke up back in Canada. At the same time, had cell phones and the internet been down, me not being able to respond promptly to emails and text messages would have been interpreted as a sign that I was not okay. Choose a metaphor to describe the good and bad of instant communication - there is no shortage.

Who is your daddy, and what does he do?

2011-02-15T23:37:00.005+09:00

I had a private lesson with a 16 year old girl today and it prompted me to finally write about something that, for a long time, I've thought is quite strange.

There are an unusual number of Japanese kids who don't know what their parents' names are, nor what their parents do for a living. Let that sink in a little. It's natural for a 5 year old to not know their dad's name, nor to know what their father does for a living. But a 16 year old girl? It's unbelievable.

I know the names of every family member I can think of, and I know what they do for a living. This 16 year old girl with whom I was talking thinks her father's name is Norimoto. Thinks! I guess this gives her an out when she gets in trouble at school and can't give her father's name to someone so they can call him, but I really can't think of how this is beneficial.

Later in the lesson we were talking about occupations and I asked what her nameless father did. She said she wasn't sure. Okay... not everyone knows exactly what their parents do at their place of work. But most know where they work. "Does he work in an office?" "Um, maybe?" Maybe!? You live with a nameless man who disappears for more than half the day and you don't know where it is this man disappears to?

This isn't an isolated incident; as I said in the beginning, this is something that has perplexed me for some time. I taught a junior high school class a couple of months ago and they were learning occupation names. Only one of the students knew what his father did (he's a pastry maker).

I get that it's rude to call your parents by their first names (at least when you're young) but I don't think it's rude to ask them their names. And unless your father is a member of the yakuza, I don't think it's unwise to ask what he does. Or at least where he works. At the very least, maybe ask the general direction he heads in when he leaves the house in the morning.

Pikachu!

2011-02-05T22:47:00.004+09:00

The other day, one of my smartest kids -- as usual -- finished his work before everyone else. So I struck up a little conversation with him. He has a Pokemon pencil case and I started pointing to different characters asking their names. I pointed to Pikachu and said, "I know Pikachu, but," pointing to the rest of the characters, "I don't know who these guys are."

Usually kids in any country are happy to go on for hours about who their favourite cartoon character is, what he likes, what his powers are, what his weaknesses are, what happened the last time he did such and such. I've met kids -- they do this. But this smart kid gave me a smart ass answer.

"Why do all foreigners only know Pikachu?"

He's 5 so he said this in Japanese, expecting that I wouldn't understand. And because of the rules at work (we're not allowed to speak Japanese) I maintained the illusion for him. The other two kids in the class thought it was hilarious that he said this, and they laughed and laughed while I sat there with a dumb "I don't know what you're saying in Japanese" smile on my face.

I gave them all extra homework and told them Santa Claus isn't real. But they're smart kids and they like homework, and they don't celebrate Christmas because they're Japanese, so neither of those things had the desired effect; that is, their spirits were not crushed.

A Stranger in the Night

2011-02-03T14:45:00.005+09:00

"What's that sound!?" Aimee exclaimed, awakening our hero from a deep slumber.
"Hm, probably a rat," he said, rolling over to go back to sleep.
"Michael! A rat!? You have to get it!"
"How does one get a rat that's chewing through the garbage bag we put on the balcony?" Michael wondered. He thought that only the summer brought unwanted guests to dine on the garbage on the balcony: cockroaches, flies, cicadas, and other insects.
"You have to do something!"

"Mmm," he grumbled, rolling out of bed. Better end this before it gets worse, he thought to himself. And check on that rat.
"Ooo, it's a big black rat," he said, peering through the drapes. "We're in trouble now."
"Michael!"
"Relax - I'm kidding. It's a cat." He made for bed but was halted mid-step by another shriek.
"We have to feed it!" a suddenly animated Aimee cried. His pleas for sanity went unheard amidst the rattling of dishes.

"What?" she said with a bowl in one hand, the open fridge door in the other.
"I said we can't feed a stray cat right at our door. You don't feed strays or they keep coming back. That's probably a proverb."
"But it's hungry!"
"But it's probably not unhealthy. It was able to climb up to the second floor..."
"Michael, we have to."

"Fine," he said. "But this cat is your responsibility now. I'm not getting up every night when it comes back." Michael laid back in bed and thought about the days ahead when he would be pushing his girlfriend out of bed in the middle of the night to feed a mewling cat. He thought about commenting on the similarities those experiences would have to raising a child together - but thought better of it.

---

Yes, we had a cat visit us the other night. No, I did not want to feed it. No, I am not heartless; feeding strays from your doorstep is just a bad idea. We've fed a couple of stray cats since we've lived here, but they've been away from our apartment. I relented when we shook hands and made the agreement that Aimee would get up to feed/shoo away the cat when it returns.

But it didn't come back. We got up in the morning and checked on the bowl full of milk and it was still a bowl full of milk. It either disliked milk or, more likely, overheard me badmouthing it and decided to make me look like a prick and not come back, because cats are assholes.

However, vindication was mine as I was writing this entry. Not one or two paragraphs in we heard a cry signaling the coming of the Apocalypse; if cats could talk, had they heard that sound they would have turned to each other and asked, "Do we really sound like that? We should apologize to humans everywhere."

We went to the window and nervously looked outside, not wanting to anger the harbinger of doom. Staring back at us was a huge white and gray cat. Yes, a different cat. Not only has Aimee fed a stray from our doorstep, but that stray has gone and told its friends about our place. And those friends have sent their largest, loudest, most-upset-that-Aimee-put-out-milk-instead-of-fois-gras buddy to mewl for more.

Learning Japanese - Validation

2010-12-08T22:03:00.009+09:00

Studying another language is difficult and it sometimes feels like I'm not making progress. I'll sit on the train trying to understand what Japanese people are saying and I'll only be able to pick out a few words. Or I'll try to read advertisements and forget what certain kanji mean. But then things like the following happen that validate my attempts to learn Japanese.

This afternoon in one of my classes I corrected an 8 year old girl's kanji. There was a picture of a train ticket from Tokyo to Osaka and I pointed to Tokyo and asked if she knew what this word was. I helped her sound it out and then she wrote the kanji for it above the word. But I noticed that one of them was wrong. And she didn't. I looked at her, then at the kanji, then at her again thinking she would notice, but she hadn't. So I went for it.

Mike: Is this 'Tou'? *pointing at the kanji on the left*
Student: Chigau! ...Sensei, kanji ga wakaru?
Mike: No. *smiling*

"Chigau" is the verb "to differ from," but used the way she used it it roughly translates to "It's different!" "Sensei, kanji ga wakaru?" means "Do you understand kanji?" This episode took maybe 30 seconds but it made me feel pretty good about myself... Even if it was just one simple kanji that the 8 year old I corrected can draw better than I can with her left hand. Blind folded.

My other Japanese language episode was a lot more validating.

I was heading out to pick up some wine for a party last weekend and on my way out the lobby a Japanese woman said "Excuse me" in Japanese. From here on in, everything written in English was said in Japanese.

"Yes?" I said, smiling.

"Do you know how to use these new mailboxes?"

I turned around thinking there must have been a Japanese person behind me that she was talking to. But there wasn't. She was asking me, a dirty foreigner, how to do something she, a Japanese woman, didn't know how to do. I was floored. But it just so happened that I did know how to use the new mailboxes. So I mustered up my courage and saved the day.

"First, you have to turn to the right till the dial starts clicking. Then, stop at the first number. After that, turn left to zero and open the door." This was all said with perfect Japanese (and a little pantomiming...) - but there was one problem.

I was using my mailbox to give the demonstration, which made her think that every mailbox had the same code. Apparently she didn't get her code in the mail, which explained why she didn't know how to open the door. So I guess I didn't save the day entirely.

If you don't understand how these little events can make someone happy then you have to imagine experiencing them as someone who is learning a foreign language. The majority of the time it's frustrating as hell but then these little things happen that make the studying worthwhile.

After I bid the lady good evening ("Konbanwa!") I smiled the whole way to the store and all the way back. And it was the first thing I told Aimee about when she got home. And the first thing I told my friends at the dinner party. And, hopefully, it will be one of many more anecdotes about how learning another language is a lot of fun.

My First Experience Fishing in Japan

2010-11-23T19:17:00.007+09:00

Two weeks ago I was invited to go deep sea fishing with one of my students and some of his friends. I happily accepted as I haven't been fishing since the summer of 2009 and I've missed it greatly.

On the morning of 7 November we arrived at the fishing wharf at the crack of dawn - 5:45. My friend had reserved us a spot on a boat headed out to catch scabbard fish. Before coming to Japan I'd never heard of them. They're thin, silver fish that have a whip-like tail and don't put up much of a fight. If I caught any there will be pictures somewhere in this post...

We got on the water by 6:00 and had our lines wet by 7:00. Wet, and tangled. There were 30 people on the boat and there was no more than a meter between each person. This resulted in a lot of lines getting tangled - sometimes three or four different lines. This happened so frequently that there were people employed whose only job was to untangle tangled lines. Our lines were getting tangled every one out of three times we reeled in - though strangely never with each other, even though we were standing next to each other.

Having our lines tangled so often was frustrating for both of us - for similar and different reasons. The similarity of our frustration was that we had both paid money to come fishing, not to get our lines tangled damn near every other cast. Kazu's own frustration came from the trip being less than he had expected for his foreign friend. He put a lot of pressure on himself to deliver a good time and the success or failure of the fishing part of our trip, unlike the excellent dinner and breakfast he prepared, were out of his control. I could tell this bothered him.

My own frustration came from not being able to vent about how shitty the fishing conditions were. They were out of his control and I don't fault him at all, but being able to complain about the fish not biting or giving your brother or father shit because they got their line tangled with yours (never, ever the other way around) has been part of fishing for me since I first learned how. I lack the language skills to vent without potentially offending Kazu so I had to bite my tongue.

We did catch some fish though.

Our first fish came about an hour into the trip at almost the same time. As I was told, they didn't put up much of a fight. They're so small and weak and the line is so strong that it was hard to tell one was even there. I caught two more in the last 5 hours and Kazu caught one. He told me that the scabbard fish season was ending soon so there weren't a lot left. The ones that were still hanging around were the smaller ones we were catching. I didn't mind too much as it was my first time fishing in Japan and I was enjoying the experience, despite the poor conditions.

When we got back to Kazu's place I posed with my fish before he showed me how to clean them.

They were pretty easy to clean. Scale, gut, fillet. The ribs end about halfway down, at which point the tail turns into the whip I was describing. This whip part is the easiest place from which to cut sashimi.

I'd never had sashimi that fresh before. It was delicious. Kazu told me it's his favourite kind of sashimi. He said it was partly because the fish is so fresh, partly because it's not stocked in super markets so it's rare, but mostly because he catches them himself. I understood entirely how something that you catch and prepare yourself tastes infinitely better than something caught and prepared by someone else.

No Wonder We Got Seats

2010-11-15T13:49:00.003+09:00

I forgot to post this a couple of weeks ago.

I was working an extra shift on my day off and another teacher and I rode the train home together. This scene greeted us when we got on the train.

Unfortunately I can't move the crap at the right side of the screen so that the full video is viewable from this website.

Public intoxication is really common in Japan and isn't frowned upon. I've seen more drunk people stumbling around the streets here than I ever did at university. And no one cares.

Today I Was A Pirate

2010-11-10T11:32:00.006+09:00

The first book I ever received was a present from my grandmother: Today I Was A Pirate. I'm pretty sure that's the book on Amazon but there's no picture so I can't be sure. I have the book at home on a shelf so I can't check the author's name.

It was an excellent book for a kid my age and got me hooked on pirates. How many little boys have a grandmother who encourages them to be a pirate? Just me.

For Halloween at ECC we had to dress up for a week. I teach at 5 different schools so I had to wear my costume five times during the week leading up to Halloween. It wasn't too bad though because I had a sweet costume:

I wasn't really going for the Johnny Depp/Jack Sparrow look but this was the only pirate costume at the department store near our house. It worked out well though. All of my kids liked it (some a little too much as I ended up with significantly less black plastic hair by the end of the week) and all of my staff members were happy to pose with Jack Sparrow. The best part for me was that I looked about 8 feet tall with that hat on.

At the end of the week I realized that I should have dressed up as a pirate a long time ago. I received Today I Was A Pirate when I was 5 or 6 (I think) but Halloween week was the first time I had ever dressed up as a pirate. Sorry I took so long Grandma!

There Are Some Big Spiders in Japan

2010-11-02T22:47:00.000+09:00

No, it's not poisonous. We've seen a lot of these spiders while out hiking this autumn but this is the first picture that turned out. They're quite difficult to get the camera to focus on for some reason. I do only have a point-and-shoot which is likely part of the problem.

Spiders don't bother me - I think they're pretty cool. These ones are neat because they're so multicoloured. From far away they all look the same but close up the different markings make them quite distinguishable. They all have a black base with coloured patterns on their legs and bodies. This one was purple, yellow and black. We've seen some with up to five different colours on them: orange, yellow, green, blue and purple.

I was hesitant to pick one of these ones up because they've got some formidable looking mandibles. But when we get spiders in our house I catch them and put them outside. Actually, when Aimee points them out I catch them and put them outside. If Aimee doesn't point them out I just let them roam around our apartment. Usually they're just jumping spiders - those are my favourite. I think they're cute and they're a lot of fun to watch jump around. I'm fascinated by the fact that they can jump distances up to 10 times their body length. That would be 20 meters for someone my size.

My First One-on-One Conversation with a Politician

2010-10-27T21:01:00.010+09:00

"Excuse me," the man said, "does this train go to Nagoya?"
"Yes," I said while smiling. "It's two stops from here. Do you want a hand with that bag?" The man was lugging a box from Noritake (a fine porcelain store) and a large suitcase onto the subway.
"Yes, thank you."

We exchanged pleasantries while riding the subway and it turns out I was talking to the former Minister for the Environment of Nicaragua. He was here for the COP (COP stands for the Conference of the Parties to the Convention of Biological Diversity) conference that's being held in Nagoya this year. I asked him in what capacity he was here since he was no longer the Minister for the Environment and he said that he was just here for public relations and to stir up awareness. And also, a very important political position: dirty joke teller. Apparently he likes to tell dirty jokes when he travels.

We continued to talk and he told me that all of the important discussions had already been had before COP 10 had convened. There would be nothing talked about spur of the moment, nothing added to the agenda. There wasn't even anything to sign - it had all been done before any of the nations arrived in Japan. This confirmed a long-standing belief I've had about large, multi-national meetings like COP: they're useless.

Meetings like these (G8, G20, etcetera) could be held over the internet and would save millions of dollars, time, energy, and resources. Instead the host countries waste all of those things for the prestige of hosting these meetings. What a joke. If everything can get agreed upon and signed without having an in-person meeting, then why have one?

There are two other things about giant conferences like COP that bother me: infrastructure that gets built only because there's a big event in town and wasteful advertising.

One:

This is a new bike rental station. I realize that bike rental stations don't fall under infrastructure but I wasn't sure how to classify them. These bike rental stations popped up in about a one kilometer radius of the main COP 10 conference location a week before it convened. They're covered in COP 10 advertising so there's little chance their arrival didn't just happen coincide with the COP 10 conference.

I'm not against bike rentals stations. I think having these stations is a fantastic idea and riding a bike is a great way to see almost any city. Nagoya is quite flat so it's an especially good idea here. My problem is that a project like this likely wouldn't have been undertaken without the COP 10 conference being here. I liken it to Vancouver finally getting a Light Rapid Transit line from downtown Vancouver to the airport. It had been talked about ever since the LRT system first started but it took the Olympics coming to town to finally get it done. Why does something like the Olympics (or in this case a conference whose size pales in comparison to the size of the Olympics) have to come to town to get really useful infrastructure built? If Vancouver was able to throw the kind of money it did at the Olympics then it easily could have afforded to build the Canada Line years ago, so I don't buy the line that the Olympics were necessary to get the money to do it.

Two:

Usually the Nagoya TV Tower is lit up with regular lights but since COP 10 is being held here all of the lights were changed to green. I think this is an unnecessary waste of energy - especially to advertise for a conference about environmentalism. It's also a waste of light bulbs - how many new ones had to be purchased to make the tower green? A better message would have been to have the lights on the TV tower turned off for the conference's two week duration. Having the tower darkened would have caused just as much conversation and would have saved a lot of energy and money.

Meeting this politician was both good and bad. Bad because it made me angry about how much of a waste of time the COP 10 conference is. Good because he was an interesting and funny man. When I asked him what he bought from Noritake he smiled and said, "A beautiful vase for my wife. I have to silence the beast."

After Eight

2010-10-17T12:18:00.005+09:00

In North America, After Eight is a delicious after dinner snack. In Japan, after eight is the time you go to the grocery store to get 50% off sushi. Japan's version is substantially better than North America's.

The quality of grocery store sushi is nothing to scoff at. An After Eight bought in Japan tastes the same as one bought in North America, but the quality of sushi from a Japanese grocery store is head-and-shoulders above that from a North American grocery store.

I think the best part of the experience was seeing that we weren't the only people who were waiting around for the sushi to go on sale. Two or three other people were hovering with me waiting for the grocery store clerk to finish tagging the trays of sushi with the discount prices. There's probably a whole sub-culture of people who do nothing but try and buy the best discount sushi they can. I wonder if there's an iPhone app for that...

Idling Cars are Michael's Playthings

2010-10-11T19:27:00.006+09:00

Everyone in Japan leaves their car running when they're parked. Every time we walk to the park to go running we walk past parked cars that are sitting idling while their owners are: reading, writing, emailing, talking on the phone, watching movies, smoking, sleeping - you name it, we've seen it. One time when we went running there was a guy who parked his car in front of our apartment and left it running while his wife sat inside it. He was moving boxes in and out of his apartment. When we came back from a 10.4km run (20 minute walk there, 50 minute run, 20 minute walk back) he was still moving boxes into the car and it was still running.

When we walked to a neighbourhood restaurant this evening we walked past a guy who was sitting in his running car watching a DVD and using an electric razor that was plugged into the car's cigarette lighter. When taxi drivers park on the side of the main road here to chat with each other they leave their taxis running.

Where am I going with this? I fantasize about turning these vehicles off for their operators and then giggling my ass off when they get upset. In Canada I would (and have) approach(ed) people who do this but here I lack the language skills to properly lay into people when they tell me to mind my own business. You polluting my air is my business and one day when I'm better able to I'll tell you. Or at least find out why idling vehicles are so prevalent here.

As a society we've become dependent on cars and we've decided that it's necessary to use them instead of mass public transit to navigate our cities. This causes a ton of unnecessary pollution - an amount that is increased by idling vehicles. If your vehicle isn't moving it shouldn't be running.

I remember my grandfather telling me that when he went to Switzerland he was amazed to see signs posted indicating that drivers were to turn off their vehicles at stop lights and were only permitted to turn them back on when the light turned green. I was amazed not at the law but that it hasn't been implemented world-wide. It's so simple to do but the effect would be amazing.

I discussed this last night with some friends and their objections were the objections that a lot of people have: it takes more fuel to start a vehicle than it does to leave one running; and, starters will need to be replaced due to more use of the ignition. I told them the same thing I tell everyone else I talk to about idling: those objections are simply not true.

Stop Speaking Japanese To Me

2010-10-06T10:08:00.005+09:00

Aimee and I are both studying Japanese but it's not that Japanese that this post is about. Although Aimee does sometimes find it irritating when I speak actual Japanese (my Japanese skills are higher than hers).

As English teachers we sometimes have to simplify our English when we talk to lower-level English speakers. This was a little difficult at first but after almost 7 months here it's ingrained and automatic. So much so that it's transitioned from a classroom thing to an outside-the-classroom thing. Perhaps this was inevitable.

The most common way to simplify your English is to make it really obvious that you're asking a question. In Japanese a question is made by putting a "ka" at the end of the sentence, so there's never any confusion about whether or not a question has been asked. If there's "ka," it's a question. In English it's sometimes a little more subtle. So one way to simplify your speaking is to make questions really obvious by having a rising intonation at the end of every one. This is natural with any yes/no question ("Did you have a good time?" "Do you want to see a movie?"), but a little less so with what/where/when/who questions.

We had this exchange last night:

Mike: What are you going to buy me for dessert? *his voice rising*

Aimee: Stop speaking Japanese.

Mike: Uh, what?

Aimee: You're speaking to me like I'm a Japanese person. *her voice rising*

Mike: Am I? *his voice rising*

Aimee: Yes, and it's really irritating.

It can be frustrating having to simplify your English but it's even more frustrating when that simplified English migrates into your everyday life. Next we'll be putting an "s" at the end of uncountable nouns.

Pray for us.

Ankle Socks and Other Workplace Fashion Faux Pas

2010-09-30T02:58:00.001+09:00

I wear ankle socks with my dress pants. White ones. Apparently white socks don't match dark pants but it's really comfortable. Dress socks are too tight and make my legs itchy. And they trap heat. When it's 39 degrees plus humidity, every little bit helps. Ankle socks -- of any colour -- are against the dress code but that doesn't bother me. I'm told that if I want to be fashionable I should buy dress socks; at the very least I should wear black ankle socks.

I roll my sleeves up. This isn't against the rules like the ankle socks are but I'm told it's not fashionable. Apparently it's too casual. I'm told that if I want to be fashionable I should buy short-sleeved collared shirts.

I use my hiking day bag to bring books and work stuff to work. It's 4 years old and has been all over the west coast and the Yukon; it's had the shit kicked out of it. It's not dirty but it's worn. It's a great bag and I like it. However, it gets more strange looks than my white ankle socks do. I'm told that if I want to be fashionable I should buy a brief case or, at the very least, a messenger bag.

There is not a chance in hell that I'm buying more Stuff so that I'm considered fashionably dressed. There isn't language strong enough for me to convey how ridiculous I think fashion and its trends are. I don't look unprofessional with my white ankle socks, rolled up sleeves and backpack - I just don't look trendy. It is important to look professional at work - it is not important to look fashionable or trendy.

I got on this rant because 9 times out of 10 when I ask one of my students what their hobbies are, they tell me, "Shopping." And when it happened again yesterday I had to vent.

Shopping is not a fucking hobby. And you don't need to buy clothes every 4 months because the trends change. Some assholes you've never met set trends. Buy clothing that never goes out of style and stop wasting time, energy, money and resources on trends.

The Night Summer and Autumn Battled for Supremacy

2010-09-26T17:11:00.010+09:00

This past Wednesday night we went to our friends' apartment to, as they put it, enjoy some "light drinking and stimulating conversation." The evening delivered on both counts but it's difficult to say why. The conversation is always stimulating but either it remained so because the drinking was light or the drinking was light because the conversation wasn't belligerent. It's typically the former when we don't discuss politics, and even when we do discuss them the belligerence isn't aimed at anyone in our group because we're all level-headed. It's fun to discuss politics but we get all riled up and are basically just complaining about the state of the world. But I digress - there was a battle to speak of.

We got home in the middle of the night and promptly went to sleep. Shortly thereafter we were woken by what I would imagine the sky would sound like if it were falling. Thunder overcame the silence like a wave: a low rumbling began at one end of the city and at its crescendo crashed upon the city-centre. Autumn was announcing its return from a long absence. In its absence summer had cast its heavy, humid blanket upon the city. Its removal sounded like the sky was being ripped apart and the pieces were being cast down around us. The sounds of this sundering went on for upwards of a minute and a half.

To those who would say I am trying to pull a memory through the fog of sleep in my estimation of how long the thunderclaps lasted, I say nay. I counted. One minute and thirty-one seconds was the longest one I counted and it was awesome. I've seen some incredible lightning storms before but I've never heard thunder to match what I heard Wednesday night/Thursday morning. What made it all the more incredible was the timing.

The Japanese are known for having their trains run on time and they have it down to a science. It's possible to set your clocks by them. To those who would scoff at this, again I say nay. I've done it. The circuit board in my cell phone has nothing on the punctuality of a Japanese train. And apparently, a record-breaking hot summer has nothing on the punctuality of autumn. The night of the storm was 22 September - the autumnal equinox.

The day after autumn vanquished summer the change in the weather was instantaneous: 35 degrees became 25 degrees; 90% humidity became 30% humidity. Typically seasons merge together in a blurring-of-the-lines sort of way. Here it was like a train arriving: one second the platform is empty and the next there's a train screaming to a halt.

On time.

More Strange Subway Stuff

2010-09-21T23:41:00.007+09:00

I wrote 3 months ago about some strange stuff I saw one day. I've since seen much more pornographic sandwich board advertising and have even seen more of the little Michael Jackson impersonator. But until today I hadn't seen much more strange subway stuff.

I was riding home from school practicing Japanese and two Japanese girls sat down beside me. I didn't give them much thought and went back to trying to learn 3000 kanji so I can read a Japanese book (only ~2850 to go!).

A few stops after the girls got on the train I noticed a guy shoving himself through what was now a crowded subway car. He wasn't excusing himself as he pushed his way from one end to the other. He was making for the other end of the car but when he was perpendicular to the girl two spots to the right of me he made an abrupt turn toward her and pushed his way past a couple more people to stand in front of her. He grabbed two of the rings hanging from the ceiling and then leaned in, bringing his face about 4 centimeters from hers.

From the moment I noticed this asshole shoving himself through the crowd to the point where he leaned into this girl's face was about 10 seconds. At first I thought he was just a rude asshole; then I thought that this rude asshole must know this girl because he made an abrupt turn toward her. But he didn't.

Immediately after leaning into her personal space he repeatedly shouted "Sumimasen! Sumimasen!" ("Excuse me! Excuse me!"). He shouted for about five seconds and then, disgusted that the girl didn't acknowledge him, resumed pushing his way through the crowd to the other end of the train car.

I was totally fixated on this guy: from the moment I noticed him pushing his way through the crowd, to when he was shouting at the girl, to when he stormed off in anger, I didn't take my eyes off of him. And I was the only one. Not a single person cared that he was pushing his way through the crowd; not a single person cared that he was shouting at some girl; and not a single person cared when he resumed shoving his way through the crowd. The strangest part was that the girl he was shouting at didn't bat an eyelash while he shouted at her.

When the screamer exited the car I looked over at the girl and she was gorgeous - and very composed. Her beauty explained why the guy took an interest in her but I wasn't able to figure out how she remained totally serene. It bothered me more than it did her that she got screamed at by this guy. She acted as if he hadn't existed. Maybe she's adjusted to these kinds of things the same way women in North American adjust to being hooted and hollered at?

If I spoke better Japanese I would have loved to talk to her about the whole episode. If I ever see her again I'll have a leg up on the competition, too - I'll know not to break the ice with a "Sumimasen."

How We Almost Killed Our Japanese Friend

2010-09-16T21:46:00.011+09:00

Most of you know that we've got some elderly Japanese friends who like to show us around Japan. This past Sunday we went with them to Yunouyama Onsen to go hiking. They had wanted to take us out hiking ever since they rescued us back in May and the weather had finally cooperated (read: cooled down) enough that we could go hiking with them. Or so we believed.

We met them at the train station at 7:00 in the morning and caught up on what we'd all been up to since the last time we were together. Yasuo (the one we're closest with) had climbed up a mountain near Fujisan and he showed us some pictures of his adventure; we showed him some from our summer hike from Tateyama to Kamikochi.

The train ride out to the base of the mountain was an hour and a half. On the way I practiced my Japanese and Yasuo practiced his English. My Japanese is a lot better when I practice it in my head - when I actually have to speak Japanese to Japanese people I get nervous and verbally stumble around like an idiot. I'm sure it's very endearing to my Japanese friends but for me it's frustrating.

When we got to the base of the mountain, Yasuo pointed out the hotel where we'd be drinking beer and relaxing in the onsen after our hike. It was a ritzy looking European-style hotel. We were excited to get into the onsen but then Yasuo told us that it wasn't a real onsen - it was just boiled water. This news was a little disappointing but after a long hike even a hot bath feels good.

Early into the hike Yasuo set a pace that was good by our standards - we had expected something a little slower from a man who is in his seventies. But it started to wear on him after about 30 minutes. I think he was worried that we would be frustrated if he slowed down. We assured him we wouldn't but it's difficult to do in a language that neither Aimee nor I have enough skill in to express more than basic feelings. By the time we reached the halfway point he was pretty burned out. Though after some water and a snack you wouldn't know it looking at him.

The above picture was at the halfway point. From right to left: Yasuo, Hayashi-san, and the-guy-with-calves-like-steel-cables.

After snacking at the halfway point, Yauso told us that our group would be splitting into two. He, Hayashi-san and their other friend would form one group and Aimee, me and Steel Cable Calves would form the second group. We would go on ahead since we were younger and the other group would meet us at the top. Please note that we were the younger group in name only - Steel Cable Calves is 60 years old. And he ran us up that mountain like a couple of dogs.

I had been watching Steel Cable Calves for most of the first half of the hike. He was very nonchalant about the hike; he had an air of sprezratura about him that couldn't be ignored. It seemed like he didn't care if he had to walk up the mountain or bound up it as fast as he could. He was more than willing to show us that the latter was as easy as the former.

As soon as I slung my bag onto my back, Steel Cable Calves took off like a shot. His pace was like a speed-walker, but up hill. He didn't scramble up rocks so much as he leaped over them. It was impressive but after a little while it became a little bothersome. Hiking at a fast pace means your eyes are glued to the trail because you don't want to slip up. You can't enjoy any of the scenery and enjoying the scenery is half the reason we go hiking, especially when the view from below the top is a lot better.

To get to the top of Gozaisho (the highest peak in the area, 1212m) you can either hike or take a cable car. If you know me well you can see where I'm going here. Once we got to the top, The Hikers and The Cable Car People mix together and the two just don't fit. I realize I'm generalizing, so please spare me, but I don't like The Cable Car People. It's a 2 hour hike at an easy pace from the bottom of the mountain to the top - there is no reason to build a cable car, a restaurant, a washroom, a petting zoo, a ski hill that maybe has a vertical gain of 100m, and a chair lift for said ski hill. Ridiculous.

The view from the top was beautiful but it was marred by the infrastructure and the crowds of Cable Car People. It was also irritating how impressed The Cable Car People were when we told them that we hiked up instead of taking the cable car. "You hiked up!? Wow, that must have been difficult." No, it wasn't. It's 1212 vertical meters - it's pretty easy. Anyone can do it. Our seventy year old friend is doing it right now. Next time try walking up, and then tell your friends, and then maybe more cable cars and everything associated with them won't be built.

About 20 minutes after we reached the top, Hayashi-san found us and told us that Yasuo was struggling with the heat and the steepness of the paths and that he and the other guy would be a while getting up. He told us to go on to the next peak and then head down and that he, Yasuo and the other guy would take the cable car down and meet us at the onsen. At this I could feel Steel Cable Calves ears perk up. It was as if sitting and waiting was more trying for him than hauling ass up a mountain.

Steel Cable Calves descended the mountain like a mountain goat. He jumped from boulder to boulder and damn near ran on boulder-free parts of the trail. Aimee did a pretty good job keeping pace with him but I had no interest in doing so so I ambled along behind them. I saw some cool spiders and some really nice rapids that Steel Cable Calves and Aimee missed out on.

We got to the onsen about 10 minutes before the group coming down in the cable car so we went in without them. I didn't think I would be able to tell the difference between a real onsen and a man-made one but I could. It was strange. The water had too much of a processed smell to it. But, there was a cold bath and that more than made up for the onsen being fake. After loosening my muscles in the various hot baths the cold bath was very refreshing.

After cleaning ourselves up we enjoyed some beers in the lounge while we waited for the bus. Yasuo kept apologizing for not being able to make it to the top which made us feel worse for having suggested we hike up Gozaisho. We assured him that it didn't bother us at all and that we were very worried about him when Hayashi-san told us he was struggling to make it to the top. When we got home we got an email from Yasuo suggesting that our next outing be somewhere flat and we happily agreed. Maybe one of us will have to race Steel Cable Calves.

Tateyama to Kamikochi - Day Six

2010-09-05T20:17:00.004+09:00

11 August 2010

When we woke up in the morning the only sign of the typhoon was our waterlogged hiking gear. The fly was soaked; our clothing was soaked; our boots were soaked. But we were only an hour's walk from an onsen (hot spring) so we were pretty happy.

I've talked about onsen experiences before so I won't go into too much detail. My favourite part isn't actually sitting in the onsen - it's washing myself before and afterward. I like the whole process of getting clean before getting into the onsen and then doing it again afterwards. It's more relaxing for me than lounging in the pools. Probably because I can't tolerate the heat of the pools for too long. The water that you wash yourself with is from the pools but you're not immersed in it so you don't notice how hot it actually is.

We spent about an hour in the onsen before heading to Takayama. We spent about 3 hours in Takayama eating and shopping for Aimee's sister (she bought her a nice ceramic mug). We ate, in no particular order: frozen pineapple slices, Hida beef stew, sukiyaki (a soup from which you take vegetables/meat and dip them into raw egg before you eat them), ice cream and Hida beef skewers. We were really excited to have some more owara tamaten but the vendor was closed.

The city was crawling with tourists and it was very hot so we didn't hang out much longer after we were full. On our way to the train station we did have to stop so I could get a picture of these:

They're ocarinas! You know, from Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time? I thought they were just something invented for the video game. Apparently they're Italian. They're also very, very expensive (which is why I'm not running around with one, stopping periodically to summon my horse. Anyone...?).

Final Thoughts on Hiking in Japan

We were both really impressed with the beauty of the North Japan Alps but we had a lot of mixed feelings about the trip. One thing that bothered us was the amount of people. The trails were crawling with people almost everywhere we went. Back home we never ran into people - ever. Most of the places we hiked back home weren't national parks though. They also weren't in a country with as many people as Japan has. And while the number of people did irritate us at times, it was great to see so many people outside enjoying the outdoors. Japan has incredible natural areas and while a lot of people use them, as a percentage of the population hikers aren't a large group. The only way parks like this will continue to be protected (and created) is if people use them. Which brings me to our next mixed feeling: the huts.

It was a lot easier to accept the large number of people than it was to accept all of the huts along the way. The huts ranged from nothing more than large one-room sleeping areas to all-inclusive resorts in Kamikochi. Neither of us felt they were necessary - especially the resorts. To build these places, maintain them, and keep them stocked requires a fleet of helicopters. And for what? So people can have a shower, drink cold beer or sake, watch television, and even use the internet. It's an incredible waste of energy and resources. However, these huts bring in different kinds of people (read: People. With. Money.) and if more people (With. Money.) come then these places, and others like them, continue to be created and preserved. And even though thousands of people pass through these parks every year and these extravagant and wasteful huts/resorts are built, the area is still very pristine. I don't think it's asking too much for people to hike the way we hike, but maybe I'm wrong.

Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five

Tateyama to Kamikochi - Day Five

2010-09-02T10:55:00.001+09:00

10 August 2010

Today was our longest day yet. We ascended from 2500m to 3060m and then descended to 1400m. By the end of the day we were tired, soar, hungry and soaking wet. But it was a lot of fun.

Because we knew the weather was going to be bad we were up by 5:00 and on the trail by 6:00. Four hours would get us to the fork where we would decide to head south if the weather was bad or push on east to Yarigatake if the weather was good. From 2500m where we camped up to 2800m (the first peak of the day) the weather was fantastic. We couldn't even see where the typhoon would be coming from. At this point we thought we might get lucky and it would miss us entirely. Whoops.

At the fork the weather was still good but we could see dark clouds chasing us from the west. We were still 4 hours from the peak of Yari but we figured that, worst case scenario, we'd be a few hours from the top before the edge of the storm descended on us. We decided to get to the top of Yari, take a quick break, and then hike down the mountain 2 hours to the next hut, since we didn't want to stay on top of Yari during the typhoon.

As expected, about an hour from the fork the mist that had slowly been creeping up on us from the west got tired of toying with us and turned into rain. This bullying also coincided with us running into Glen again. Until this point we had only ever seen him at the camps because he left so early. That morning he hadn't left till 5:00 and he wasn't surprised we caught up to him. We exchanged plans while putting on our rain gear - he was going to go to Yarigatake and stay there for the night, braving the typhoon.

The final ascent to the top of Yari was pretty grueling. It had stopped raining so we were able to take off our rain gear and air out, but that didn't make the monotonous switchbacks any easier. Everywhere the mountainside was the same - scree and mist, scree and mist. With the trail switching back every 10m it didn't feel like we were making any progress. When we looked back to see where we had came from we couldn't tell - for all we knew our starting point could have been 10m back or 1000m back. And then all of the sudden we were at the hut - 3060m.

The hut and the area outside it were very crowded. The rains returned in earnest immediately after we dropped our packs so everyone crammed together under the awnings. The foreigners were particularly popular here - all two of us. While putting on our rain gear for the descent to the next camp we were accosted by drunk, rich Japanese climbers. Drunk because they were drinking beer from the hut; rich because they could afford to. A beer at 3060m cost 1000￥ - and that's the cheap stuff. Foreigners are uncommon in Japan; to see them on hiking trails is rare. So we got the usual questions: where were we from, why were we here, what did we think of the mountains... We weren't feeling as accommodating as we usually do (these kinds of interrogations happen frequently and we're used to them) because we were in a hurry, so we played the foreigner ace card: "wakarimasen" ("I don't understand"). The questions quickly turned to "gambatte!" ("goodluck!") and we were on our way.

We decided against ascending to the peak (3180m) because of the weather. This was a little disappointing but we couldn't even see the top from where we were because of the clouds so we weren't missing much. As we were heading back to the trail to take us down the mountain we ran into Glen for the last time on the trip. He had ascended faster than we thought he would. I guess getting out of the rain was good motivation. We exchanged expletives about climbing up that "fucking" steep slope in the "fucking rain," shook hands and bid each other goodbye.

Thirty minutes into our descent the rain, which must not have felt that it was being paid much attention to, redoubled its efforts. Thunder lasting for what seemed like minutes echoed off the valley slopes; lightning lit up the underside of the clouds; and raindrops the size of pennies washed away the trail beneath our feet. This lasted all day and well into the night.

I make it sound a little bleak but it was actually kind of fun. Neither of us had been in a storm of that magnitude before; nor one whose power was so unrelenting for so long. It's one thing to be in a storm that powerful; it's quite another to witness one that sustains that power for 6 hours. I've never been in even a light storm that lasted for that long.

The above picture is of us exploring a cave about 1100m down from Yarigatake. A monk used to live there for half the year and would ascend Yarigatake... many times a year. I forget how many. He would spend his days chanting something about being in awe of the power of the gods. It was a 1 or 2 sentence chant that he would repeat all day, every day.

We made the next camp in two hours despite the rain. It was still pouring when we arrived though so we decided to push on another two hours to the next camp since we couldn't set up in the rain and we had no idea how long it would last. We had been to that camp during Golden Week and we knew it was only 3 hours from there to Kamikochi (and 2 hours from where we were) so it wouldn't be too much work. We got to see some interesting wildlife on this stretch.

We saw (and avoided stepping on) dozens of these giant toads all the way from the first camp we stopped at to the last camp. They were huge and came in different shapes and sizes. Some skinny, some fat; some brown, some yellow; some all warty, some very smooth; some old, some young; all huge. They were adept climbers. The rock this one is climbing was probably a meter high and it got right to the top. They weren't hard to miss because they a) were huge, and b) jumped like crazy when they felt us coming. We also saw a rabbit and some more grouse.

We made the next camp and it was still pouring rain so, yes, we decided to keep going. This time we decided to push straight through to Kamikochi... but we bit off more than we could chew. An hour away we were wiped out: hungry, sore, soaked. We collapsed under the awning of the closest hut, defeated.

Aimee dug the stove and dinner out of our packs while I endeared myself to the receptionist by dripping water all over the foyer of the expensive mountain hut while paying for our campsite. Then we further endeared ourselves by cooking our food on our rocket stove (it's loud) under the awning that was conveniently placed over the window of the expensive restaurant. Then we put on a show for the patrons - we set up our tent under the awning so we could walk the assembled tent out into the rain.

After staking the tent by myself we collapsed inside it and went to sleep. The wet grass gave us the most comfortable sleep of the trip. Our 13 hour day soaked us; tired us; took us from 2500m to 2800m to 2500m to 3060m to 1400m; and left us 1 hour from our final destination. It was a great day.

Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Six

Tateyama to Kamikochi - Day Four

2010-08-22T12:58:00.013+09:00

9 August 2010

Today was the latest we slept in for the whole trip - 5:30. We were pretty slow about breaking camp too and didn't get on the trail till 7:00. But today's hike was pretty easy - an ascent to 2800m that would take 4 hours from camp and then a 3 hour descent into the valley and the next camp - so we weren't in a hurry.

By 9:00 we had our first negative interaction with water. Not the rain that would hound us for 6 hours on the next day. Not slipping into a creek and having wet feet. It was something much more sinister - a leaky water bottle.

Hiking up and down mountains produces a good amount of sweat, especially when the sun is beating down. So Aimee didn't give much thought to the water that was making her shirt cling to her like plastic wrap; nor did she give much thought to it while it slowly spread from her shirt down to her shorts. Only when we stopped for a water break and slung off our packs and she noticed the accumulation of water in the bottom of her pack did she - and I - finally give it some thought.

Aimee: I think my water bottle is leaking!

Mike: Shit.

Sure enough, the threads of Aimee's ancient water bottle had finally become so stripped that the lid wasn't sealing. Almost 1 litre of water had run from the top of her bag down to the bottom. Fortunately, her clothes were in a plastic bag, her sleeping bag was in a waterproof compression sack and the only food she had were granola bars (and her loving boyfriend was carrying the tent, his sleeping bag, most of the food and the stove). Luckily we had picked up a 500ml bottle of water from one of the huts since we knew we had a long and sweaty first half to hike today.

We had no further incidents between the mystery of Aimee's wet shorts and ascending to 2800m to eat lunch. Here we ate the last of our delicious walnut bread (it was sorely missed for the remainder of the trip) and complained about having to hike downhill once again. Downhill sucks. Uphill is hard and sweaty and tires out the muscles but extended downhill sections make me want to hurtle myself off the mountain.

We hung out in the valley below for a while because it was the best spot on the trip up to that point. There was a creek we could get water from, there were no people, there was lots of vegetation, there were no people, we watched the mist roll down into the valley from the peak we ate lunch on, and it was quiet because there were no people. And there was a cool boulder.

It was huge. That black speck on the top right corner of the left piece is someone's small backpack. A man had climbed up the back side and was enjoying some solitude. We wanted to do the same but we didn't want to disturb him. The boulder was split right through to the ground - as if Zeus had cleaved it in two with a lightning bolt. More likely it was split by the glacier that dropped it there but geology (geography? both?) just doesn't make for exciting narrative.

We made camp about 2 hours after leaving Zeus' boulder and ran into Glen again. Despite having been one of the first people to arrive at camp he had managed to secure the worst tent site. Draw a straight line. At the bottom of that line put a circle. The line is the path, the circle is the boulder. Glen pitched his tent to the left of the circle, thinking people would take the right hand side around the rock. But that side was more precarious so everyone opted to take the 1 meter path between his tent's door and the rock.

We talked with Glen about hiking, growing organic foods, the problems with the 9-5 lifestyle and all the other problems in the world. He's a very interesting man. He also told us about the 50 acre plot of land he and his wife have on an island in Australia. They're planning to start a farm and possibly host international students. It sounded like an interesting lifestyle. More importantly, he told us about the typhoon that was building to the west of us.

By the middle of the next day the area we were planning on hiking to (Yarigatake) would start to get torrential rains followed by a typhoon. This would be problematic for us since Yarigatake was the jewel of our trip. But there would be no point in summitting it if we did so during a torrential downpour. The split boulder had shown us the awesome power of Zeus' lightning (or, if your inner child is dead and you have no imagination, the awesome power of glaciers moving a centimeter a year) and we had no desire to see what he could do with a storm (or, what would happen when a low-pressure system met with rising warm air). So we plotted an escape route to the south in case, when we reached the fork that would take us east to Yarigatake or south to safety the following morning, the weather was bad. And then we slept.

Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Five
Day Six

Utsumi Beach

2010-08-17T11:13:00.006+09:00

Aimee and I went to the beach for the first time yesterday so I thought I'd take a break from the hiking updates to talk about our first beach experience.

Highlights:

we burned the bottom of our feet
we swam in the ocean for the first time
we ate gross hamburgers
we saw our first bare Japanese breast

Beaches in Canada have nice, warm sand that feels good to walk on. When you finally arrive at the beach, kicking your shoes off to walk in the sand is part of the beach-going experience. Not in Japan. The sand burns here. We kicked off our shoes and walked no more than 10 steps before screaming like little girls and promptly putting our sand-covered feet back in our shoes. It was awful. I thought that digging down into the sand might offer some reprieve from the heat but it's just as hot 6cm down as it is on the surface. It was ridiculous. I guess that's why everyone had rented umbrellas from the man in the parking lot.

After setting up as close to the water as possible we kicked off our shoes again and ran into the water. You know how back home it's little kids who run as fast as they can into the water and then fall over? At this beach that was what everyone did. No one was walking casually into the water. They were running [and shouting "atsui, atsui!" (atsui means hot) if their location happened to be far from the water] as fast as they could. Surprisingly it wasn't from running and popping out of her bikini that we saw our first Japanese girl's breast (and unfortunately for you that last sentence wasn't a transition sentence for the next paragraph).

We made it into the water without burning our feet and got to enjoy our first experience swimming in the ocean. Not just in Japan - anywhere. When we lived in Victoria the ocean was always too cold to swim in. I tried a few times to swim to an island in the summer but there were too many boats going through the channel and I feared I would be run over. However, I only had to fear being swam over by one of the numerous people who were in the water yesterday. It actually wasn't as busy as I thought it would be. There were lots of people but it was no more busy than Sauble Beach during the summer.

Swimming in the ocean was a lot of fun. Even though I knew it wouldn't hurt I was still surprised that salt water didn't sting my eyes when I opened them underwater. It stung Aimee's eyes though because she wears contacts and the water gets trapped behind the lense. The only downside to swimming in the ocean was the film of salt leftover after you dry out. Oh, and being incredibly thirsty when you get out of the water.

After our first swim we got something to eat. We were craving hamburgers and there just happened to be a hamburger shop on the strip. Unfortunately they were Japanese-style hamburgers, which means they were loaded with a ketchup/tomato sauce/salsa topping. It's not good on hamburgers and almost all hamburgers in Japan are made with this sauce on them. The exceptions we've found are a 50s diner near our place and McDonald's. I haven't yet been desperate enough for a hamburger to go to McDonald's.

We washed down our hamburgers with some ice cream and then went back into the water and, yes, saw our first bare Japanese breast.

Swimming ahead of us was a man pushing his girlfriend in a floating chair thingy. She was tanning and giggling, like girls do at the beach. The following quick conversation ensued:

Aimee: Japanese girls have no role here other than to dress prettily and giggle.

Mike: How is that stereotype any different than the stereotype of North American girls at the beach?

So we were swimming behind this guy pushing his girlfriend in her chair thingy. He kept trying to do something to her (poke her, touch her - I'm not sure) and she kept giggling like girls do when they're acting like what you're doing is something they don't want you to do. You know what I'm talking about. You have your arm around your girlfriend and then you casually slide your hand down to her bum and she giggles and slaps your hand away because that's what propriety demands. But she's not upset and you know that because of the giggle. This is what that girl was doing. And this is what she continued to do when he reached up and pulled her bikini down, exposing her breast.

Aimee and I found the whole episode incredibly funny. We are in Japan but the exact same things happen here that happen at home. I've seen this exact scene play out at every beach I've been to. This girl pretended to be angry and put on that pout face that girls have - you know the one - when they're trying to act indignant. But based on her reaction we figured she kind of enjoyed it. That and she didn't kick the shit out of him. Because I've seen this scene play out like that before, too. The guy pulls down a girl's bikini and she goes ballistic - rightfully so: don't take my amusement at this particular situation as condoning the behaviour - and beats him senseless. That is infinitely more amusing to me than seeing an exposed breast.

We enjoyed our first beach experience, but only because of the swimming. It was far too hot to do anything other than swim. We brought towels and books to lay on the beach and read but any part of our bodies that wasn't in the water immediately started to sweat. So the only thing you could comfortably do was swim.

Tateyama to Kamikochi - Day Three

2010-08-14T16:03:00.011+09:00

8 August 2010

The morning of the third day was the most beautiful. Not too clouded over, not raining, not cold - beautiful.

We ate breakfast and packed up in an hour and were on the trail by 6:00. The first four hours of the hike were great - a nice breeze and not too much change in elevation. It took an hour to climb to the second highest peak of the day (2616m) and another hour from there to a peak at 2591m. From there we could see the hut we'd be eating lunch at. It was around 2 kilometers away but we had to drop down to 2000m and then back up to 2300m to get there.

It was a little tiring to trudge down 500m and then back up 300m but we did it in about 2 hours and were only a little hungry and sweaty when we arrived at the camp. Lunch was excellent. We brought salami and Gouda cheese to eat with walnut bread - a delicious combination at home and downright kingly while hiking.

The above picture is at the 2591m mark from where we could see the hut we would eat lunch at.

As we were packing up to head back out Al and Holly came up the trail looking pretty wiped out. As I told you in the last post this was the last time we saw them. They were taking the same route to Kamikochi we were but they likely changed their minds and went a different way. If this were a novel I would tell you that after beginning our descent of the 2926m peak at the end of today's hike we heard the agonizing screams of a man and a woman tumbling down the mountain, followed by the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of a helicopter coming to rescue the poor souls/collect the bodies. But it's not. As I said they likely changed their minds and went a different way. They had mentioned they might do that exact thing when we first met them. [Brief aside: it costs 3,000,000￥ ($30,000) to be taken off the trail/mountain/rock you're impaled on by helicopter, so be careful.]

After lunch our day got pretty tiring. The ascent to 2926m was long and tiring. We only had to gain 600m but there was a lot of up-down to gain those 600m. We got cranky at different times for different reasons. Me: Hungry and sweaty. Aimee: Sore and tired. It took us about 2.5 hours to get to the top.

There are 5 symbols on the bottom of that post:

二 = 2
九 = 9
二 = 2
六 = 6
m = m

This was the highest point of our day. From here we could see another expensive hut and the campsite beyond it that we would be staying at. We took some time to rest and eat and then started on our way again. Even though the hut and the general area of the campsite looked close, we still had 3-4 kilometers to go.

It ended up taking 2.5 hours to get from the peak to the campsite. At least a kilometer of the walk were switchbacks down the mountain to the hut. The slope on the descent side was pretty steep and covered in scree so it was a pain in the ass to descend. About halfway down we started to get passed by endurance runners. Where they came from and where they were going we had no idea. I was impressed enough that someone would run up just the one peak we had just ascended, but we got passed by some more the following day about 10 kilometers from where we first got passed.

We eventually made it to the hut and shortly after it we entered a dry creek bed to complete our descent to the campsite. If this sounds cool it was. At first. The creek bed was pretty easy to navigate at the top but further down the rocks turned into boulders and it became an arduous descent. What was really frustrating was that the people who had built the wooden bridges and walkways we had crossed at earlier spots during our trip were now sending people through a dry creek bed. Aimee and I both thought that the wooden walkways through grasslands were ridiculous and unnecessary, but if they were going to be built then someone should have had the sense to build them around boulder-strewn creek beds instead of across soft, lush grass.

The dry creek bed finally became a wet creek bed and at this point we had made the camp. And we immediately ran into our next foreigner - Glen.

Glen is a 40 year old Australian teaching English in Korea and was vacationing in Japan for a month. He had been all over the South Japan Alps and had hiked a little in Hokkaido (the large island north of Japan). He was a pretty interesting guy and also quite nice. He pointed us to the best campsite in the area. It was up a short path and overlooked the rest of the large campsite. He had already set up his tent before finding it and he didn't want to move. We were quite happy that he told us about it since the campsite was packed. For some reason camping damn near on top of each other doesn't seem to bother most Japanese. In North America most people seek out campsites as far away from others as possible; in Japan most people try to camp as close together as possible. It's really quite strange but it meant that the best spot in the area was open for us.

Glen also mentioned an area of the creek where we could bathe. He had found a way down to the creek and found a pool formed by a small waterfall that was hidden from the path so bathing without being seen was possible. We were elated at this news since we didn't think we'd be able to bathe until we got to Kamikochi, which was still 3 days from where we were. We thanked him again and, like Al and Holly, would only see him one more time...

I'm kidding. We saw him a few more times on the trip. But in the novel he'd either kill us in our sleep at the secluded campsite he conveniently found or slit our throats while we bathed.

After dinner we bathed, brushed our teeth and went to bed clean for the first time in 3 days. It was fantastic.

Day One
Day Two
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six

Tateyama to Kamikochi - Day Two

2010-08-13T13:17:00.016+09:00

7 August 2010

We were in bed by about 8:00 the night before but at around 2:00am I woke up to the sounds of tent flies being flapped in the air and blue and orange flashes of light in every direction. It had been raining so in my haze I thought maybe the multicoloured lights were lightning and the flapping sounds were the flies blowing in the wind. Turns out the flapping sounds were the flies being shaken in the air to remove rain water and the lights were from the numerous stoves being lit to make early, early, early morning tea.

Finally realizing that these people were getting up to watch the sun rise over the mountains, and not being concerned with seeing that ourselves, we went back to sleep. We woke up again at 5:00 and decided to catch up to the early birds. When we drew back the flaps of the tent we saw that nearly half of the tents that were there the night before were gone. The mountain was going to be crawling with people.

The people you see above were a group of high school students we passed on our way to the top of Tateyama. There was a group about two times the size of this one that we got on the trail ahead of by about 5 minutes when we left in the morning. There were also numerous groups of elderly people that numbered from 10 people to 30 people. It was crazy.

We made it to the top in good time since most of the sunrise viewers were back down from the peak. Unfortunately it was quite cloudy when we reached the top so the view wasn't great.

Up to this point 3003m was the highest I had ever climbed. I was pretty pleased to have climbed that high, but it was easy in comparison to the climb to the top of Yarigatake. We only had to ascend 600m to get to the top of Tateyama. In 3 days we would have to ascend 1100m to reach the top of Yarigatake, and at a much steeper pitch.

It only took two hours to ascend and then descend Tateyama and get back on the trail, and we only had 4 hours to go from the base of Tateyama to our next camp, so the second day of our trip was pretty easy. There was a lot of アプダウン though according to the sign we saw shortly past the base of Tateyama. Pronounced a-pu-da-oo-n, it took me a few minutes to figure out that it meant "up-down." The sign was a caution that the next several kilometers of the trail were up-down sections. I would have rather not known that from where we were to camp was a lot of up-down since I hate going down hill. But it only took 4 hours to complete and we got to camp early in the afternoon so we had time to relax and talk to the only other foreigners in the camp.

We saw Al and Holly when we went to fill our water bottles at the camp. We stared at them for a while and they stared at us for a while because it's uncommon enough to see other foreigners in large cities here; it's downright rare to see other foreigners on hiking trails. After setting up our tent we went over to introduce ourselves.

Al and Holly are British lawyers working in Tokyo. Al had been in Japan for 5 months and Holly for one. Apparently she drags him on these kinds of expeditions regularly - they've been hiking in the Himalayas and all over Northern Great Britain. They had been hanging out at camp since 11:15. They had taken a night bus from Tokyo and got into the camp we were sleeping in around 5:00am. They skipped climbing Tateyama because it was a "Crocodile line from the bottom to the top," according to Holly (I don't know what a crocodile line is but I understood what she meant), so they only had the 4ish hour hike to do.

We talked about life as foreigners in Japan, which is a topic that can never really be exhausted. Everyone has stories that are interesting to even the most seasoned foreigner living here. Holly is a vegetarian and she told us about how the Japanese don't consider chicken to be meat. We knew this already from experiences our friend Grace has had but it's still funny to hear about. A lot of the time if you ask a waiter "Does this have meat in it?" they'll say "No, just vegetables and chicken." Apparently Holly has this problem frequently and with varying degrees of derision towards her by the waiters when she tells them she doesn't eat any meat - even chicken.

We haven't been able to figure out why chicken isn't considered meat. It's possible that chicken is classified as a non-meat for Japanese vegetarians the same way fish is classified as a non-meat for some Western vegetarians. Another mystery I'll have to solve before we leave.

We talked for about an hour before heading off to make dinner and relax for the afternoon. This would be the only day of the trip where we'd have much spare time, since the remaining days would be more difficult in terms of terrain that would be covered, distance covered, and time spent hiking. Al and Holly were following the same route we were so we agreed to meet up at the next camp but we only ended up seeing them one more time - at the half-way point the following day.

Day One
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six

Tateyama to Kamikochi - Day One

2010-08-12T11:36:00.017+09:00

From 6 to 11 August, Aimee and I hiked from Tateyama in Toyama to Kamikochi near Takayama City. It was a 65km hike which included summitting three 3000m+ peaks. The peak you see in the distance was the highest peak we summitted - Yarigatake. "Yari" is Japanese for spear - the mountain is so named because it looks like a spear is being thrust into the sky.

The peak of Yarigatake is 3180m, but we only made it to the campsite/expensive mountain hut at 3060m. The clouds you see to the left of the peak in the picture were the finger tips of a typhoon. Eventually the white fingers closed into a black fist that hammered the peak and the surrounding area for more than 6 hours. The initial blow came about 20 minutes after we began our descent. But more on that in the day 4 post.

6 August 2010

We caught a train at 7:50am bound for Toyama. Toyama is a city on the west side of Honshu (the main island of Japan) on the Japan Sea. We didn't see much of the city until the 4th day when we were high enough to look back on it. After arriving in Toyama we immediately took a one hour local train to the base of Tateyama. From there we took a 10 minute cable car ride to a bus station and from the bus station a one hour ride to Murodo. Murodo is at ~2400m and is the base camp for about a dozen different North Japan Alps climbing and hiking routes. The place was packed with people.

It's hard to see in the picture but there are close to 100 tents crammed together down there. Some of them looked like they would sleep 20 people. These belonged to base campers - people who stayed at Murodo and did day trips up the various peaks surrounding Murodo. They had every luxury you'd expect to have at home - except for a television. A lot of the base campers were parents with children or high school groups who were probably just there to climb to the summit of Tateyama. Tateyama is popular because it is one of Japan's Three Holy Mountains (Mount Fuji and Mount Haku are the other two).

After setting up our meager (by comparison) tent we set off to explore the sulfur fields. Murodo is situated near an active volcano which releases sulfuric gas into the air. In order to make it very clear where you are and what you're climbing, the volcano is also called Tateyama.

The sulfur fields were cool. They stank. But they were cool nonetheless. There was all kinds of gas being released everywhere. More irritating than the rotten egg smell was the recording that kept playing in Japanese, Chinese and English warning us to stay on the path and not to venture into the sulfur fields. In any other country there would just be a simple sign telling people not to be fucking stupid (at least if I was in charge of making those kinds of signs that's what they'd say) since it's pretty obvious that you shouldn't run through a jet of steam that was heated by a volcano. But in Japan there's a recording that plays all day (7:00am to 7:00pm). However, there's only a sign (and only at the end of the trail, not the beginning!) to explain that should the air raid sirens situated throughout the area go off it's because the poisonous gas has reached a lethal level and you should promptly evacuate the area. But don't run.

It was also interesting how the steam was released. There were tiny puddles on the path that bubbled slightly and there were giant ponds that erupted 1.5 meters into the air. What we found most interesting was that some of the pools were quite hot while others were quite cool. This was because the fissures in the ground were only releasing steam, not water. If the gas was released into a pool of standing water it became quite hot; if it was released into moving water it stayed quite cool.

We returned to camp to have dinner and sleep early since we wanted to get ahead of the hoards of people the following morning. Turns out half the people in camp got up at 2:00am to get to the top of Tateyama to watch the sun rise so it didn't matter that we went to bed early. But more on that in the day 2 post.

Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six

World Cosplay Summit

2010-08-02T23:33:00.009+09:00

The picture to the left was taken this past Sunday at the World Cosplay Summit, which was conveniently held 10 minutes from our apartment. The character you are looking at is Porco Rosso, who is from one of Hayao Miyazaki's oddest films: Porco Rosso.

Cosplay is a compound noun formed from "costume" and "roleplay." In Japanese it is pronounced "ko-su-pu-re." People (mostly young) dress up as characters from manga, video games, fantasy novels and movies, anime, and hentai. It is quite an odd event but it's also a lot of fun if you're open minded. The people get really into it and put on quite a good show.

There were a few Final Fantasy characters - mostly Cloud and Sephiroth - and a lot of Zelda characters. Most of the Links I saw were women and they were as attractive as you'd imagine they would be. Unfortunately I didn't get a picture. My friend did get an awesome picture of Ganon though:

He looked even better in full costume. At this point he was walking to the stage where the performances took place. You didn't think people from eight different countries just came to dress up, did you?

Each country put on a ~5 minute skit that was typically a popular scene associated with their characters. We saw four of them but not the one I really wanted to see: Cloud vs. Emerald Weapon. Don't bother clicking the link if you didn't play the game - you won't like it. Their costumes were both excellent, but I only got a shot of Cloud:

The best performance we saw was put on by the Korean team. Unfortunately I didn't get any pictures of them because we didn't see them before the skits started and we were too far away to get decent pictures of them when they took the stage. One of them was dressed as a giant robot and the other was dressed as a samurai warrior. The samurai would jump off the robot doing these aerial kicks or he would run up him and flip off him like you see martial artists run up walls and flip off them. The choreography was really well done for an amateur exhibition.

This event was probably the most quintessentially modern Japanese thing we've seen so far. We've seen the traditional things you think of when you think of Japan (castles, temples, kimono) but this was something entirely different. Even though it's relatively new (the Summit has only been held since 2003) there was still the same sense of propriety and custom you feel at a traditional Japanese event. You weren't allowed to take pictures at random - you had to ask permission and then thank the person or people for allowing you to take a photograph. This stems from the initial practice of photographers photographing reiya (people who dress up) and then giving them copies of the pictures as gifts. There was also a level of seriousness from the reiya that I didn't expect. They would get in character when they had their photos taken and then they would be all smiles and happy afterward. It was really interesting to watch the transformation.

I can definitely see the appeal of being able to transform yourself into a character from your favourite entertainment medium but I don't think it's for me. I do enjoy dressing up for Hallowe'en but I don't think I'd like to do anything more than enter a best dressed competition.

Weird Day at the Pool

2010-07-26T10:45:00.003+09:00

It was an uncomfortable 40 degrees on Sunday so we went to the pool with a few friends to cool off. Or had intended to cool off.

The pool was only 1 meter deep so it was a little less lame than being in a wading pool. It wouldn't have been too bad if it were cold, but since Nagoya has been so hot for 5 weeks the water was lukewarm. It was like sitting in a luke warm bath. It would have been an entirely worthless experience had we not been with friends with whom we could complain about the warm water.

After soaking in the giant bathtub we got out to lay on the side of the pool to read/tan/talk. About ten minutes later a bell rang and everyone got out of the pool. Some men got up to stretch so we figured that the bell ended the child swim and started the adult swim. But this guy was just prepping for the stretching routine that everyone was about to do.

Some weird music started playing and then everyone stood up and started stretching in sync. From the 4 year olds up to the 80 year olds everyone knew what actions to do and when. It was eerie how coordinated everyone was. The 5 of us sat in awe, no doubt making fools of ourselves by starting at everyone - but we couldn't look away.

This is the stretch routine they were doing if you want to check it out. Having seen the whole thing in person I didn't watch the entire video since nothing compares to watching it live.

"My name is Dragon!"

2010-07-22T08:56:00.005+09:00

Sometimes Japanese people take English names to use at the schools we work at because it's easier for the Native teachers to pronounce them than to pronounce Japanese names. I think this is ridiculous - your name is your name and you shouldn't change it because some people who come to your country to work have a hard time pronouncing it. But this is a choice a grown person makes so I've never said anything to anyone other than Aimee.

This past weekend I worked at a kids summer party at one of my schools. Basically my job was to play games with each of the groups of 20 or so kids who rotated around the different game centres in the building. The last group of the day was the largest and also the most disturbing. My conversation with the first kid who came in illustrates this:

Mike: "Hello! What's your name?"
Kid: "My name is Dragon!"

At first I thought this was cute. The kid wanted to be a dragon so he called himself Dragon. I asked the next kid:

Mike: "What's your name?"
Kid: "My name is Bear."

Ok, maybe this kid likes bears? At this point most of the kids had come into the room and I started looking at their "My name is ____" name tags and was thoroughly disturbed. Here are some of the highlights:

A group of 5 or 6 boys came in and they were all named after colours. I had a Blue, Green, Red, Yellow and Orange.
Dispersed throughout the group were common animals. I had a Dog, Cat, Mouse, Snake and Bear.
The worst was the group of girls named Chocolate, Cinnamon and Candy. They had no idea that if they lived in North America they would be destined to become strippers.

Wanting your kids to learn another language is a good thing. Languages are useful and anyone who can speak more than one language has a huge leg-up in life - especially if that language is English. However, it is ridiculous to go so far as to give your children English names thinking that this helps the process. It is especially ridiculous when those names aren't even names! If the group were any larger they would have had to start giving the kids numbers as names.

Maybe I'm making a light situation into something it's not but wouldn't renaming your child make them feel like their real name isn't good enough or is worthless in another country? When I was learning Japanese at university my Japanese friends gave me a Japanese name (it's Masato and it means "elegant and graceful person," which I am). They would call me Masato when they helped me with my Japanese or when I helped them with their English but I never thought about changing my name. My name is part of my identity.

I don't think that changing part of a child's identity is a good thing. If I were one of those children I immediately would have questioned why I needed to have an English name just to go to an English party. Children are already easily confused as it is. Why would a parent willingly add to that confusion?

The Japanese Shaved My Earlobes

2010-07-11T20:32:00.006+09:00

I had my first straight-razor shave this week and it was quite an experience. I went to my usual barber and got my usual haircut. The last time I was there he asked if I wanted a shave but I declined citing a lack of cash (even though Japan is a cash-based society I carry little cash). I told him I would try one next time though because I had not had a straight-razor shave before.

So, it's 6 weeks later and I'm laying back in my chair with my beard lathered. And my... forehead lathered? This is kind of odd, I thought to myself. I didn't think the fine blonde hairs on my forehead warranted much attention but the barber was the one with the razor so I kept my mouth shut. I also thought that if I tried to speak my forehead would krinkle and I would have part of it sliced into. He must have also thought I was developing hairy ears since, after leaving my forehead smooth and unscathed, he immediately shaved my earlobes and the outside of my ears.

Throughout the whole experience I never once thought about asking for an explanation or asking him to stop. Remember, I'm the guy who let Japanese men feel him up so getting a shave is a walk in the park. I thought the forehead shaving was a little odd but having my earlobes and outer ear shaved actually felt kind of cool. You know that feeling you get when someone kisses your ears? The "this is cool but it wouldn't be cool if they stuck their tongue in my ear" feeling? Having your ears shaved is kind of similar. It's cool unless the barber slips and lops a chunk of your ear off.

While I was impressed with the thoroughness of the shave, it was less smooth than I thought it would be. I think the barber thought so too - when he finished he stood up, wiped his brow and said "Muzukashii," which means difficult. I guess he wasn't used to shaving thick North American beards.

No shirt, no shoes... get arrested?

2010-07-01T20:33:00.007+09:00

In one of my kids classes a couple of weeks ago my kids asked me what I wore in Canada (they only ever see me in suit pants, a collared shirt and a tie). I told them that in the summer I wear shorts and a t-shirt, but if it's hot I just wear shorts. They lost their minds. They told me that kind of thing would get you thrown in jail here. I assumed they thought I meant I go to restaurants and stores without a shirt and just laughed their comments off as a lost in translation kind of thing.

A few days later Aimee and I were stretching after one of our runs in the park I took my shirt off to cool down and went about my stretching. This caused some curious and outright scandalized stares from passers- and runners-by. Thinking there may actually be something to this topless nonsense my kids were talking about, and not wanting to further scandalize anyone, I put my sweaty shirt back on.

The next day I asked one of my near-fluent adult students what the big deal was with taking my shirt off. He smiled and told me that if a policeman had seen me he would have come over and told me to put my shirt back on. I thought he was kidding but he assured me that it was illegal for men to walk around without a shirt on. I was stunned.

Let me tell you about some of the things I've seen in Japan that are far more scandalous than me running with my shirt off:

a homeless man at the train station masturbating while staring at one of my American friends (I didn't actually see this but it came up one night while a bunch of us were out. I found this absolutely hilarious and chastised her relentlessly for not taking a photo of the guy. Brief aside: the situation reminded me of that episode of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia where the homeless guy masturbating in the alley stares at Dee.)
more skirts-that-are-short-enough-to-be-panties than you'd see at a Victoria's Secret runway show
Japanese men looking at magazine porn while riding the subway
Japanese men looking at manga porn while riding the subway
Japanese men looking at internet porn on their phones while riding the subway
Japanese men looking at porn videos on their iPods while riding the subway

I run three times a week in 35+ degree weather with a humidity level that is as close to 100% as is possible before it starts to rain. I don't want to masturbate at the train station. I don't want to wear a really short skirt. I don't want to look at any kind of porn on the subway. I want to run with my shirt off!

My First Experience Being Felt-Up by Japanese Men

2010-06-27T11:50:00.003+09:00

Over the weekend our friends Chris and Caitlin had a couple of their friends come to Nagoya to visit and we all went out for dinner. While we were eating these two Japanese girls came over to talk with us. This is common in Japan. After a sufficient number of alcoholic drinks, Japanese people lose their reluctance to practice their English on foreigners. They stayed for a few minutes to talk about where we were from and how they wanted to go to America and Canada and then returned to their table.

After dinner we saw them again with their male friends at the subway station. This is where things got a little weird...

I guess the male friends wanted to see what I looked like under my shirt so they come over and before they had even introduced themselves they lifted my shirt up to see what I was hiding. I found this very amusing. I guess they liked what they saw because then they felt my pecs. They felt over my shirt so it was only a little weird. I probably would have drawn the line at being felt-up underneath my shirt. Instead of responding like a lot of foreigners would (yelling, lashing out, screaming) I just lifted their shirts up. They and their girl friends found this incredibly amusing because they all burst out laughing. The guys then slapped their bellies and said they were fat. I told them that I'm skinny because I run every week; they told me they were fat because they drink beer every week.

That episode was definitely the strangest thing that has happened to me since moving here. I thought maybe I wasn't offended because I had been drinking but even two days later I still think it's just funny. I think a lot of it had to do with the demeanor of my frisky friends. They were drunk and happy and harmless. Had some sober Japanese business man come up to me to lift my shirt my reaction would have been much different.

My only regret was that I didn't tell the guys that next time they want to see a foreign man's stomach they should send their girl friends over to do the undressing.

Beer Gardens

2010-06-17T14:52:00.004+09:00

This past Sunday Aimee and I had our first visit to a Japanese beer garden. It was hosted by one of the schools Aimee teaches at and we, along with a friend and a couple other Western teachers, were the token Westerners attending the party. This afforded us a discount on the entry price (1500 yen instead of 3300) and the rockstar status most foreigners get when they're surrounded by a group of Japanese people who wish to speak English.

Beer gardens are all you can eat and drink so there is no shortage of entertainment in the form of Japanese children running around with heaping plates of food and Japanese men inebriated enough to try their best at picking up women. I saw more unsuccessful flirting Sunday night than at a high school dance. Keep high school flirting in your mind while you read the next paragraph (I'm thinking specifically of this scenario: You ask your friend to tell the friend of a girl you like to tell the girl you like that you like her... maybe... only if she likes you back).

Draw a tall, narrow rectangle. In the bottom right corner is M (for Mike) and the top right corner is K (for Kate, our friend). The top left corner is JM (Japanese man) and the bottom left corner is JL (Japanese lady). JM makes small talk with K before revealing the reason he introduced himself - JL would like to be introduced to M. K tells JM to tell JL to introduce herself then. JM smiles and says she is embarrassed. K interrupts my conversation with a different Japanese lady and introduces me to JM. We make small talk until JM tells me that he had himself introduced to me so that he could introduce me to JL. Two things should strike you as odd here. First: we are adults and should be able to make our own introductions. Second: JL was sitting closer to me than JM was (you can see this because you drew a rectangle). JM and I had to lean uncomfortably over the backs of our chairs to make the kind of small talk you make when you first introduce yourself to someone you like so that JL could overhear it ("Where are you from?" "How old are you?" "You have the most beautiful eyes in the world and I could be swallowed up in them..."). I found the whole episode quite humourous - I'm not sure that my tone has captured that.

JL and I talked (with JM translating a little since his English was pretty good) for a little while until Aimee came back from refilling our glasses. JL didn't lash out when I introduced Aimee as my girlfriend but I could tell she was disappointed. Brief aside: I've had numerous conversations with friends and girlfriends (ex and current) about the appropriate time to divulge that you have a boyfriend/girlfriend and have never reached a consensus.

Now, to continue my tale...

The garden is on the rooftop of a 6 story building in the heart of Nagoya. It was raining though so we were eating under tarped gazebo frames. This was a pretty stifling environment to be in. The food at a beer garden is cooked at the table on hibachi-like grills so there's lots of smoke which gets trapped because of the tarps. This smoke is mingled with cigarette smoke since there are no laws in Japan banning smoking in restaurants. Add to this a humidity level that is rivalled only by sitting in tub full of water and you get a recipe for a not-so-comfortable night. I had had a lot to drink the night before so I wasn't in an all-you-can-drink mood otherwise I probably would have been more comfortable than I was.

I'm also not as enamored with all-you-can-eat restaurants as I used to be. When you're a teenager they're fun because you have an appetite that could shame an elephant and no real understanding of how wasteful it is to eat a twentieth of your body weight in one sitting. The problem is that no one needs to eat 5 dinner plates worth of meat and 3 bowls of pudding. All-you-can-eat restaurants perpetuate the belief that people need to eat until they're stuffed when people actually only need to eat until they're not hungry. I think this message would fall on deaf ears here though (if I could even translate it into Japanese properly) because Japanese obesity rates are essentially non-existent when compared to obesity rates in North America.

Boys Don't Cry?

2010-06-10T12:10:00.003+09:00

One of the boys in my class lost a game to another girl and he freaked out - he started swinging his arms and stomping his feet. Inadvertently he hit me, so I told him he had to leave the class for 5 minutes. He refused and instead sat down on the cushions and cried. So I picked him up, carried him out of class and sat him down outside the room. The tears kept rolling down his cheeks and he buried his face in his sleeve so none of the other children (nor the giggling mothers who were also outside the class) could see him. Oh, this boy is 10 years old.

What 10 year old cries because they lose a game to another kid? I was embarrassed for him. I told them to touch their noses with their right hands and the girl was faster than the boy, so she got a point. It's not like he got the answer wrong - he was just slower. When I tried to bring him back in he again refused. Perhaps he realized he was being a baby and felt embarrassed? I had to pick him up again and carry him into class, stand him up and give him a ball to shoot in the basket on the wall (we play "shoot the basket" a lot). Miraculously he got the ball in the basket (they rarely do) and afterward all was well.

After talking with other teachers I've found out that the crying boy phenomenon is common. I don't think there's anything wrong with crying - if it's for a legitimate reason. I had a different boy in the same class cry once but he got hit in the eye by one of the other students. There's no shame in crying there. But because you lost a game?

The consensus seems to be that it's because Japanese boys are spoiled. I agree with this. I see more boys walking over their mothers and getting away with murder than I have seen in Canada. It's ridiculous. If these boys don't get what they want from their mothers they start to cry or they throw temper tantrums. It's logical for them to assume that the same thing will work with Native teachers. This is one reality I'm happily destroying, one crying boy at a time.

Strange things...

2010-06-06T21:32:00.003+09:00

I saw three very strange things today. In order of strangeness: a 5 year old boy dancing to Michael Jackson in the street; a man wearing a sandwich board advertising porn; three girls on the train touching each other's breasts. All of these events were within an hour of each other.

The boy in the picture above was dancing where these guys usually dance. He must be a good dancer if he can scare off those greasers. Kidding aside, the kid was quite good. He was dancing to "Smooth Criminal" and he definitely was one.

The man wearing the sandwich board with scantily clad women on it was kind of creepy. He was handing out tissues (handing out packages of tissues with information about your product on them is a mainstay of Japanese advertising) which had the address of some sort of strip club on them. I was most intrigued by the look on the man's face. He was just as resigned to his crappy job as anyone else I've seen doing something they hate. It didn't seem to bother him at all to wear a sandwich board with pictures on it that 13 year old boys would happily masturbate to. Although with the advent of the internet I imagine 13 year old boys now need something more racy than women posing provocatively in their bras and panties to get off...

The young girls touching each other's breasts was the strangest thing I saw all day. I was riding the train home from work and these girls got on the train and stood next to the door. One of the girls had a loose bra strap so she asked her friend to tighten it for her. I'm sure just this act would give a lot of Japanese men something to think about for the rest of the evening. After it was tightened the girl admired herself in the glass door. When she turned around her friend poked her in the breast. Then the pokee poked the other girl in one of her breasts. After a few more rounds the poking turned into groping. It's like they were feeling for growth. I'm sure young girls do this all the time - at home. Everyone is curious about their bodies and there is nothing wrong with that. However, you don't explore your body and your friends' bodies on a train that, from 5am-9am and 5pm-9pm, has women only cars because of problems with sexual assault in crowded trains.

Golden Week - Takayama and Kamikochi (Days 3 and 4)

2010-05-27T23:09:00.009+09:00

Day Three

We woke up to this:

There had been a lot more on the ground but we laid in the tent for a while since we didn't have to get up early to catch a bus. We did get up in time to try the hot spring though.

Our first hot spring experience was a good one. There were separate baths for males and females so we agreed to meet in the lobby after the non-guest hours were over. So we had a little over an hour to soak. After stripping off all of your clothing (there's even a sign that says not to bathe in your underwear or swimsuit) you must clean yourself in the outdoor showers. These pump water from the hot spring through regular plumbing so you can shower/bathe. You sit on a little stool and lather up and then rinse yourself off. Now clean you are free to enter the various pools.

At this point I forget all the temperatures of the pool, but the only indoor pool was probably the medium temperature pool. I sat in this one for about 10 minutes with no problems. I then ventured to the outdoor pools. There were two wooden tubs and two pools. The upper pool was, as expected, warmer than the lower pool into which it flowed. The first tub was warmer than both the indoor and outdoor pools and the second tub was the hottest of all. When I got out of the hottest tub after sitting in it for 2 or 3 minutes I felt light headed. I staggered back inside and got into the indoor pool again before I fell over. Passing out, cracking your skull and spilling your blood into the pools is a major faux pas.

After 10 more minutes soaking in the indoor pool I got out and showered myself again on my little stool. It felt very cleansing and relaxing the first time so I wanted to do it again. After meeting Aimee in the lobby we both agreed that this would be a fantastic way to start and end every day.

After our hot spring baths we broke camp and headed back to Takayama and began what Aimee called “eating our way through Takayama.”

Aimee had been told by the staff at one of her schools that we had to try Hida beef. What was our first meal? Hida beef stew:

The meal was expensive – 8000 yen for both of us – but nothing compared to what the high-roller at the sushi bar must have spent. While we were waiting he and his lady friend dined on champagne and 3 appetizer plates. While we were eating they had 2 plates of sashimi which was prepared right in front of them. Even though we couldn't afford to eat what he was eating, we were not disappointed. The beef was fantastic - well marbled, well aged, well cooked. The vegetables were excellent too.

We ended the night with Haagen Dazs ice cream sandwiches from the convenience store and then headed back to our accommodations for the evening. We stayed in one of the oldest Buddhist temples in Japan - the Zenkoji temple. The one in Takayama is a branch of the Zenkoji temple in Nagano. We slept in traditional Japanese beds – on tatami mats on futons with blankets. The blankets were electric since it was quite cold, so the experience wasn't entirely authentic.

Day Four

We got up early to head to the morning markets. Aimee and I are both huge fans of farmers' markets back home so we were excited to see the Japanese version. We were a little disappointed. Every vendor has pretty much the same vegetables and a few spices. All of them also sell silly knick-knacks. We did have a good breakfast though.

First course:

These were little rice balls coated in a soy-type sauce and then grilled. Basically an appetizer; not filling at all. They were pretty tasty, but not something you could eat 5 or 6 skewers of to feel full.

Second course:

Owara tamaten is basically a fried marshmallow. But sooooo much better than what you're thinking. The inside is marshmallowy, but not like the marshmallows in North America. They're not just high fructose corn syrup and preservatives. The guy who makes them does so himself using some kind of gum syrup. Once they're made into cubes he dips them into an egg mixture: beaten eggs, sake, mirin (sweet cooking sake) and honey. Then they're placed on a giant table-top-sized electric frying pan and fried golden brown. They're amazing. We had one and then went back for 4 more in the afternoon.

Third course:

Hida gyuman (Hida beef bun) are made from ground up Hida beef which is fried with onions, wrapped in dough and then steamed. They're also much tastier than they look. They weren't as good as the Hida beef stew though.

After the beef bun we went back to the temple to check out. We were allowed to leave our bags at the front of the temple so we could continue exploring (and eating our way through) the city.

From the temple we went to Hida Folk Village. It was created in the 1960s by moving houses from traditional Japanse villages to Takayama. A lot of traditional villages were flooded during the creation of hydroelectric dams in the late 1950s and early 60s. People had started to leave traditional villages for the city in the 1940s and 50s so they were becoming less and less populated. However, a group of people wanted to preserve that way of life so they created an open air museum – Hida no Sato. It was a really cool place to see. Some of the buildings were from the 1600s. We both particularly liked the thatched roofs. They're over 30 centimeters thick. An entire town (approximately 40 people) could put one together in two days. Some of them had moss, grass and even small trees growing on top of them. There are a lot of pictures of the Folk Village but this update is already huge so you'll have to check them out on Facebook.

After returning to town from Hida no Sato we promptly visited the Owara Tamaten vendor for the aforementioned 4 more Owara Tamaten. From there we decided to look for a birthday present for Aimee's friend Kirin (whom some of you know so I'll keep my mouth shut) which we found. We also found these:

They're frozen tangerines. We saw dozens of people with these and we were determined to find them. It didn't really take long... we worked our way through the crowd and then were shouted at to buy them by the vendors. It wasn't all that difficult. If they hadn't shouted at us though we probably would have missed them.

After finishing our tangerines we decided to get our bags, catch our train and end our Takayama adventure. On our way back to the temple though we were waylaid by another food vendor...

Hida beef sushi and Hida beef gyuman were both really good. The Hida beef sushi – not so much. The problem with eating raw meat isn't the “Eww, but it's raw meat” factor – I have no problem with raw meat in that sense. The problem I have is that with raw meat you can't really taste the fat, and fat is what makes all Japanese beef so good. With the Hida beef stew and Hida gyuman you could really taste the fat. With raw Hida beef you couldn't. It was still ok, but not great. I would have rather had another helping of stew.

And with that meal our Golden Week adventure ended. After a disappointing beginning we ended up having a great time. Looking back on it we even enjoyed our time in Kamikochi, even though we didn't get to hike.

I'll leave you with one last picture. The baby monkey was the best picture from Kamikochi; this is the best picture from Takayama:

Golden Week - Takayama and Kamikochi (Days 1 and 2)

2010-05-27T22:43:00.008+09:00

Golden Week is a week long holiday in Japan which starts at the end of April and ends in the middle of the first week of May. Aimee and I decided to go to Takayama (a city in the Japan Alps) and Kamikochi (a resort area and the beginning of many Japan Alp hikes – we went for the hiking, not the resort).

Day One

We took a 2.5 hour train ride from Nagoya to Takayama. The scenery we saw from this ride was second only to the scenery I saw riding on trains in Switzerland. We followed the Hida river almost the entire way up to Takayama. The Hida river is often called the Japan Rhine because it looks so much like the Rhine River in Germany. The vegetation is incredibly lush and green and the river has been running for so long that it has carved its way 10 meters down – sometimes more – through solid rock.

When we arrived in Takayama we promptly got on a bus for Kamikochi. We planned to spend 4 days hiking in Kamikochi and then return to Takayama to spend two days there before heading home. The bus ride to Kamikochi was much like driving through the Rockies in Canada. The snow-covered peaks brought back many memories of my numerous drives across Canada. They were also an ominous sign of what was waiting for us in Kamikochi.

Kamikochi is in the Shirakawa World Heritage Site area, so there are no private vehicles allowed past a certain point on the highway. Most people do what we did and take a bus from Takayama. It takes about 20 minutes from the blockade on the highway to the resort area in Kamikochi because the road is one way and there are a ridiculous number of buses making the trip in and out daily. When we arrived at the resort parking lot there were probably 50 buses.

All those buses must have meant the area was pretty popular. This is why:

Our Hiking in Japan book said that 95% of the people you see milling about near the bus terminal don't make it past the kappabashi bridge. They come for photo opportunities like this and then stay in the resort or turn around and go home. Five percent of the people continue past here to hike. Unfortunately for us, this was the only accurate information we had concerning our trip.

After we got off the bus we went to the tourist information centre to get maps and information about hiking in the area. We had planned on camping in Kamikochi for the night and then starting up Yari-ga-take (at 3190 meters it's the second highest peak in Japan. Fuji-san is the highest) in the morning. The lady looked at our bags and asked if we had crampons and ice axes. We looked at each other and then back at her: “No, we don't.” The book we have said we wouldn't need crampons nor ice axes at this time of the year for the hike we wanted to do. “Oh, well you need them to hike up Yari-ga-take.” We looked at each other again and then I asked her, “Well, where can we hike without crampons or ice axes?” She said, “We recommend here and here.” She pointed at the map on the table in front of her. “And how long does it take to get to here?” I asked, indicating the longer trail. “Oh, it takes about 6 hours – 3 hours each way.” We looked at each other with great disappointment. It had taken more than 6 hours to get to Kamikochi. We didn't come here for a 6 hour round trip hike. We thanked her and left the building.

After venting our disappointment with the hiking book we decided to camp for the night in Kamikochi and reevaluate in the morning. We went and registered for a camp site and set up our tent. Since it was only 3 o'clock we decided to walk for a while on the longer trail the lady had told us about. We weren't entirely disappointed since there were animals along the way - monkeys and a Japanese sero. A sero looks like a cross between an antelope and a goat. I've got a picture of one on Facebook here that you can have a look at. I'd post it here but it would have to be small so you wouldn't see much detail.

The monkeys were significantly more interesting than the sero. There were about two dozen monkeys – half of them were on the ground foraging and the other half, mostly younger monkeys, were in the trees. Not surprisingly they didn't mind our presence. They continued foraging for roots as if we weren't there. When we got back to camp we saw a man chasing them with a wooden rake. They're seen as pests by the people who work at Kamikochi. Interestingly they don't seem to steal food from campers. We thought we might have to take precautions similar to those you take to keep bears from stealing your food in Canada. I guess the rake man has that problem solved.

Day Two

The walk the tourist information centre lady said takes 6 hours we did in 4. We passed pretty much every person in front of us so maybe the 6 hours only applies if you're Japanese. The walk wasn't too bad though. It's railroad grade the entire way so it wasn't difficult. And we were walking through the valley so the mountain scenery was very beautiful.

On the way back we ran into more monkeys. We took a few more photos and then continued heading back. Our timing was perfect because we saw this little guy:

Watching him play and eat was almost worth not being able to do any hiking. Almost. The coolest part was when something spooked his mother. She ran over and grabbed him at full stride, swung him under her chest and scampered over to a tree. The whole motion took maybe 3 seconds. We took a lot more pictures but this post is already huge... You can check out the rest on Facebook.

We wanted to experience our first onsen (hot spring) when we returned but we missed the time period it was open. The two hot springs in Kamikochi are at two (of about 8) hotels and they are only open to non-guests during certain hours. So we spent the rest of the day/evening writing and reading in the tent.

I'll make a post about days 3 and 4 later.

Hiking in Tajimi

2010-05-27T21:51:00.007+09:00

No, we didn't need to be rescued this time.

I found out from one of my students that there is a hiking path almost right off the train at a place called Jokoji. It's a very picturesque area – there's a river running right by the station which runs through a valley so there are high tree-covered hills on either side.

The trailhead is right across the bridge this picture was taken from (to the right). About a kilometer along the trail is a nice park with a huge pond and large shaded grass areas. A nice place to have a picnic – especially on a day off since it's only an hour from our place. We couldn't find where the trail continued from the park so we ended up following a road up into the mountains. We eventually came to a footbridge that crossed the road. The footbridge was part of the trail we were originally on. Back on track, we carried on.

Three kilometers along the trail we stopped to eat some of the food we had brought. Aimee and I both have fine taste – we ate Brie cheese and some kind of walnut bread. Very delicious. Sated, we continued along the trail, where we ran into our first Japanese snake.

He was originally on the trail but he moved much too quickly for me to catch him. Stop gasping – the only poisonous snakes in Japan are in Okinawa. He climbed this tree (it's about 4 meters high) in 30 seconds. From where he was perched he was able to watch as we took pictures of him. He also tracked us as we moved along the trail to change picture taking angles (but that doesn't worry you because you remember that they're not poisonous). It was really cool. Aimee would walk underneath him and I would watch as his head turned from one side to the other. Wanting to let him get back to sunning himself, we continued.

About four kilometers after we saw the snake the trail came to a crossroads and we weren't sure which way to go. There were sign posts but, as you all know already, my kanji reading isn't great. We picked the path that lead down the mountain and, a couple kilometers later, ended up at a strange natural history museum.

It says Nishiyama Natural History Museum. The “museum” consisted of a bunch of old fish tanks on this guy's lawn, a lot of junk, and some strange paintings strewn about the lawn and entrance. We poked our heads inside the building and there was more art hanging in a hallway. At the end of the hallway we could see a man sleeping. Fearing we would be invited in, we took our leave.

There were no more trails to be had so we had to walk along the road to get back to where we (thought) the train was. We ended up walking 15 kilometers along the road to a train station a couple stops up the line from where we originally got off. We've got 11 more months to work out this navigation thing – have faith!

Rescued in Seto

2010-05-27T21:25:00.004+09:00

Aimee and I went on our first hiking excursion on the 11th of April. Aimee had been out to Seto earlier in the week to teach and she said that there were mountains there that we could hike up. I had been to a similar area during the week (Tajimi) but we decided to go to Seto instead. My ride out to Tajimi had been nice – I passed through vast rice fields and went through some small mountains. Since Aimee said she found mountains I assumed that our rides would be similar. I was mistaken. The entire ride went through the city and upon disembarking at Seto, I estimated that it would take us about 6 hours to get to the top of the nearest mountain, meaning a 10 hour round trip. This would not usually be a problem except that we arrived in Seto at 11:45 and the trains don't run late on Sundays. Aimee disagreed with my estimation, so off we set.

We walked for about an hour up a road which proved to be a nice walk. We got off the busy main street and saw lots of quaint Japanese houses and more than a few people enjoying the nice weather by gardening. After topping the hill we had been walking up we found a trail head and decided to take it. The sign post said it was 5.4 kilometers – what was 5.4 kilometers we weren't sure. My kanji reading was not up to the task of translating the sign. At best we figured we'd end up somewhere interesting; at worst we figured we'd do a loop and end up where we started. Turns out we did neither.

Half an hour of walking brought us to the summit of a small mountain – maybe 250 meters. We took a break and drank some water because it was extremely humid. In retrospect it probably wasn't “extremely” humid and we're just not used to it yet. It only gets worse so we've been told. We saw another sign post indicating we were 3.0 kilometers from our destination so we pressed on. About 30 minutes later we had reached the bottom of the other side of the mountain and found ourselves at a crossroads. We could take a road and continue down the mountain or we could take the road up. Or, we could take another trail which lead to... we didn't know. When we got off the train in Seto we saw a sign that said Tajimi was 17 kilometers from the station and we knew we were walking in the approximate direction of Tajimi, so we decided to take the new trail, figuring we'd hit Tajimi at some point. Not 5 minutes up the trail we met 4 Japanese hikers who would prove to be our rescuers.

They were taking a break at the top of a hill we were coming up. After exchanging a friendly “konichiwa” (good afternoon) they quickly offered us beer and snacks (Kirin and peanuts with puffed rice things). The offer of beer and food came within a minute of introducing ourselves – easily the fastest I've been offered beer in my life. After hiking for two hours the beer was very welcome.

Even before we told them we were ECC teachers from Canada they had seemed to take an instant liking to us. They kept trying to fill us up on snacks because we were offered more as soon as we were done each handful. I'm sure they would have filled us with the sake they had had we not nursed the beers they gave us (the cold can felt good in my hand so I took my time). We told them we had been hiking from Owari Seto (the train station we got off at) and didn't really have an idea of where we were going. I asked how far it was from where we were to Tajimi and the oldest man told me “dame desu!” while making an X with his arms (pronounced “da-may dess,” it means “no good”). He told me it was 20 kilometers to the nearest train station in Tajimi. Already 2 o'clock we would have been hard pressed to cover 20 kilometers of unfamiliar ground to catch a train. Perhaps realizing that we did not want to turn around and walk all the way back to Owari Seto, Yamazaki-san (the man we spoke with the most based on his English ability) invited us to join them. He told us they were walking an hour and a half to another peak and then on to a closer train station. We happily accepted the invitation.

We continued to make small talk while we drank our beers. Yamazaki-san used to work at Hitachi selling electronics and was now retired. The four of them meet once a month to go hiking somewhere in the Chubu area (the area we live in). Fuse-san (pronounced “fu-say”), the eldest of the group, asked me how old I was. I told him I was 27 and Aimee was 25. He smiled and looked at Yamazaki-san, who told us that Fuse-san was 71 years old. 71 years old! The mountain the 4 of them had just ascended and descended was more than 600 meters high. Yamazaki-san then told us that he was 70, the elderly woman was 68 (Atsuko) and the other man (Hayashi) was also 70. They called themselves “Silver Hikers,” though you would not know it looking at them. Aimee told Yamazaki-san that she had guessed they were in their 50s – 55 at the oldest. He found this amusing.

For the remainder of the hike down to the train station we spoke at length with Yamazaki-san about all kinds of things. He told us about his children and grandchildren; his favourite hikes in the area; where he and his group had travelled and were planning on travelling; some of his business trips (he did a whirlwind trip of North America 30 years ago: 1 day in Montreal, 1 day in New York and, I think, 2 days in Washington before returning home); and he told us Japanese names for some of the flowers and trees we passed by. We also spoke a little with Fuse-san, who, when he was 64, had run a 42.195 kilometer marathon in Honolulu. Hayashi-san drove the support car for him, though I would not have been surprised if he was capable of running a marathon, too. Fuse-san was also a “patrol man” in the area were were hiking, as he lives in the area and walks the trails every day. Hayashi-san had hiked Kamikochi and he told us a couple places to check out when we go there – specifically which onsen (hot spring) to go to.

As we neared the bottom of the road, Yamazaki-san told us we would be stopping in a traditional Japanese house for a rest. Aimee and I were excited by this as we had yet to see a traditional Japanese residence. The town it was in probably appealed to us more than the building itself. The town was a tiny rice farming village which probably had no more than 50 people in it. I counted probably a dozen buildings. I was surprised that places like that existed so close to Nagoya (the 4^th largest city in Japan).

Twenty more minutes of walking took us to a parking lot where Fuse-san had his car parked. Our rescuers extended their hospitality further by offering the lost Canadians a ride to the train station. Yamazaki-san, Hayashi-san and Atsuko-san were being dropped off there by Fuse-san anyway so we were not making them go out of their way by accepting their offer.

On the train Yamazaki-san pointed out landmarks in the area – the Toyoto Automobile Museum and the 2005 Aichi Expo were the highlights. Before the stop where he and the lady were getting off, Yamazaki-san gave us his email address and told us to email him the next time we were going hiking. We told him we definitely would since we had had such a great time. He also told us to come and visit him sometime to meet his wife. She wasn't with him because she doesn't enjoy hiking. She does love to cook and make clothing though. We thanked him again and told him that today had been our best day in Japan so far. I think he was pleased.

We weren't being polite when we said that today had been our best day in Japan. We were having fun hiking before we ran into the Silver Hikers but running into them made our day much better. We felt that we got to see the real Japan – the Japan behind the commercial behemoth. There were no tall buildings or giant advertising billboards; no cars or buses or trains; and not a lot of people. These four people were also the first people with whom we had had a lengthy conversation and with whom we had spent a significant amount of time. It was great getting a chance to have a real conversation with some Japanese people instead of just talking about work or students in classes we teach.

We also weren't just being polite when we told Yamazaki-san we would email him the next time we go hiking. Talking about it later, Aimee and I agreed that it would be a real pleasure to spend time hiking with the four of them once a month when they go out. We would also really like to meet Yamazaki-san's wife. I got the feeling from the way he was telling us to visit that he would like to show off the Canadians he rescued.

Ieyasu Parade

2010-05-27T19:51:00.010+09:00

Today we went to our second Japanese Festival – the Iesayu Parade in Okazaki City. Now those of you who know me well let me stop you right here – it wasn't that kind of parade. There were neither floats nor bands. I would not have gone to that kind of parade. This parade was a celebration of cherry blossom season and the birth of Tokugawa, the Shogun of Japan during the - wait for it - Tokugawa Era. Tokugawa was born in Okazaki and he is the one who ordered Nagoya Castle built (the castle from the mass email I first sent out). More importantly, this was a parade featuring samurai.

There were over 1000 samurai dressed in traditional samurai warrior armor with real-enough-looking swords. They also had fully-functional flintlock rifles, which they fired over the river.

Tokugawa's general was on horseback, as was the general's... lieutenant? Assistant? We weren't sure. Unfortunately we didn't get great shots of them.

We were told by a lady we work with that when she first went to this festival the horsemen would ride by targets at full gallop and shoot at them with bows. I was really excited to see this but it didn't happen. The only bows we saw were on the midway across the river. (Brief aside: these were recurve bows, not cheap plastic Canadian Tire bows. You had to shoot at balloons 20 meters or so away. The lineup was 50 people deep so we skipped it – we wanted to get good seats for the samurai battle [we didn't end up getting very good seats]. Could you imagine going to a carnival in Canada and shooting a bow and arrow at targets? It would be an insurance nightmare. It'd never happen.) I would have been satisfied with the General hurling his long spear at something but that didn't happen either. Oh well.

The battle itself was pretty well choreographed. Tokugawa's men were attacked by the ninjas and the samurai had to fight them off. After the ninja were killed/run off, the General ordered a full assault on what was presumably the enemy's army. The different contingents of foot soldiers then charged off the field to much cheering by the fans.

After Tokugawa's men charged off the field, he and his daimyo (lords) watched a fireworks show and then the festival ended. Fireworks during the day aren't as impressive as they are at night. For one thing, the colours aren't as vibrant. Another problem is the smoke. You don't really notice the smoke from fireworks at night because it's dark. During the day it's really all you can see. The pictures didn't turn out too well so we're skipping those.

Grace (our friend from Edmonton), Aimee and I crossed back to the other side to get some more festival food (I think I mentioned how delicious festival food is in my last email). After enjoying yakitori (meat on a stick – we had pork) and squid (also on a stick) we decided to sweeten things up with candied apples. Neither Aimee nor Grace had had candied apples before. Grace still hasn't because she opted not to get one.

We continued walking along the river enjoying the cherry blossoms while taking the obligatory cherry blossom pictures. Here is the best one:

On our walk along the river we encountered an old Japanese man and his dog, Nowaru. The dog looked like a small akita. If I've looked it up correctly, Nowaru means “sly” or “sneaky.” The name applies to the dog as he looked like a trickster.

I ran into the man first while Aimee and Grace were behind me taking pictures. He asked me if I was “Igirisu,” which means British. I told him I was “Canada-jin” and his face lit up. He started to go off about all the places he had been in Canada. He had been to: Vancouver, Kamloops, Calgary, Edmonton, Athabasca, Anchorage and Juneau (those last two are in Alaska). He had driven between some of the places and taken a train between others. By this point Grace and Aimee had caught up to me and Grace, whose Japanese is better than mine, made the conversation between the three of us (Aimee doesn't speak Japanese) much better. He asked where in Canada we were all from and he asked me my age – but not Aimee nor Grace. I thought that was odd. He asked if he could take our picture and we happily agreed to pose for him under a cherry blossom tree. Then he took Grace's address – presumably to send her a copy of the picture (hopefully more than one). He was a very friendly old man and while we were riding the train back Aimee and I discussed how that sort of thing would not happen in North America as often as it happens in Japan. Even though we are becoming more and more common in Japan, the Japanese do not seem to tire of striking up conversations with westerners.