Hello, dear readers! Alas, I have returned. I'm not vain enough to believe that you've been pining these last 5 months to read about my life, but I have received complaints from several loyalists, so I figured it was about damn time.
Why have't I updated?
This isn't a "Why is the sky blue?" type of question question, with a logical scientific answer. This is more the "Why do some people get headaches when it rains?" types, mysterious and inexplicable even to me.
It's similar to writer's block, but not for lack of words or ideas. Moreso, despite the activity of the last few months, I felt there was a certain lack of impetus, a staleness that affected other areas in my life as well.
But that's neither here nor there. And certainly not what's most important. Everyone falls off the horse at several points in life, and while most of us aren't gymnasts, we've got to jump back on. (There's a little Derek Zoo-logic for you.)
What is important, and what you've probably been waiting for, is the travels. So let's go back, back to -- yes, when was it? -- that's right...
But that's neither here nor there. And certainly not what's most important. Everyone falls off the horse at several points in life, and while most of us aren't gymnasts, we've got to jump back on. (There's a little Derek Zoo-logic for you.)
What is important, and what you've probably been waiting for, is the travels. So let's go back, back to -- yes, when was it? -- that's right...
September 2013, 阿蘇（Aso）, 大分（Oita）, and 高千穂（Takachio）
Prepare yourself. You wanted an update -- I'm giving you a full-scale report.
Last year, my traveling buddy was Monica. Though I think about her often on these trips, I couldn't let her absence inhibit me from more adventures -- not that she would want it that way.
This year, I've been traveling with two equally good friends of mine from Amakusa: Erika and Dan. Both came the same year I did, but it's only as of this year that we've really been traveling together. Erika is extremely fun to be around, and has a level of Japanese that I sincerely aspire to. She lives quite close to me, but Dan lives on an island of Amakusa that can only be accessed by ferry's, which stop running at around 4:30pm on weekdays. Work ends at 4 pm, need I say more? We only see him weekends, though he's incredibly intelligent and funny in the witty sort of way. Both of them are wonderfully kind, and traveling is never dull.
Our first true trip together was a three-day excursion over a long-weekend in Septemer. On Friday night, we hopped into my little silver hatchback Honda after work, and drove to Aso, a rural area in northeast Kumamoto Prefecture. It's most famous for its range of volcanic mountains, in particular one large and quite active caldera that is mistakenly called "Mt. Aso" (the locals get flustered about this, as there is apparently no single mountain called "Aso," yet even the Japanese tourists make this error). We stayed at a hostel called「阿蘇び心」 "Asobi gokoro," a great play on words where 「遊び」 "Asobi" means 'play,' but the characters for the "aso" part are substituted with the characters for the region's name、「阿蘇」Aso. 「心」"Kokoro" means 'heart.' It's difficult to explain, but quite a clever thing if you know Japanese. The hostel's staff is also incredibly kind, and offer you a full explanation of the area and history on your first stay, as well as recommendations on where to go. They also pick you up and drop you off at the nearby station, for free.
But I digress. It was Erika's birthday on Saturday, and neither she nor Dan had ever seen the caldera, whereas somehow I had seen it about 5 times by then. On Saturday morning, we took a leisurely stroll around the artsy countryside near our hostel, coming across a strange, bird-focused topiary, the prefecture's only colored cement artist, and a strange combination of Japanese characters burned into the side of a mountain (something like 内"in" and 牧 "breeding" -- inbreeding?). We went up to the volcano, saw it, had some ice cream, then went to have lunch -- except all the places were closed. We had inadvertently missed lunch-time, and so ended up eating a skewer of grilled meat from a street vendor before setting off, stomachs a-rumble, for our next location: Takachiho.
As a city itself, it is nothing terribly beautiful; it's a tiny town, with unremarkable buildings, no real train, and maybe two or three convenience stores. Historically, however, it is one of the most sacred places in Japan, if not the most sacred. The gorge that we had gone to see is said to have been formed thousands of years ago, when the volcano in Aso last erupted. It's said that from there the gods pulled out the islands of Japan. However, the detailed, well-written English sign at the location made the one error, insisting that it was the hold "cods" that made Japan. Needless to say, this has become an ongoing joke amongst us.
It's long and narrow with clear and crisp blue water, flanked by dark rocks and forest. It's also incredibly close to the city itself, and packed on the weekends, so if you want to go you should plan to get there early in order to park. We had to park in the further lot and walk a long way down to the row-boat station, but it was worth the hike if only for the beautiful trails and tiny bridges. We had to wait for two hours to ride the row boat, but the wait was worth it. Somehow, with much effort on Dan's part to understand Erika's directions (it was a backwards row-boat, and we call Erika "Master Navigator" ironically, though she eventually gets us where we need to go), we managed to get in a great view with some stunning pictures to boot.
This year, I've been traveling with two equally good friends of mine from Amakusa: Erika and Dan. Both came the same year I did, but it's only as of this year that we've really been traveling together. Erika is extremely fun to be around, and has a level of Japanese that I sincerely aspire to. She lives quite close to me, but Dan lives on an island of Amakusa that can only be accessed by ferry's, which stop running at around 4:30pm on weekdays. Work ends at 4 pm, need I say more? We only see him weekends, though he's incredibly intelligent and funny in the witty sort of way. Both of them are wonderfully kind, and traveling is never dull.
Our first true trip together was a three-day excursion over a long-weekend in Septemer. On Friday night, we hopped into my little silver hatchback Honda after work, and drove to Aso, a rural area in northeast Kumamoto Prefecture. It's most famous for its range of volcanic mountains, in particular one large and quite active caldera that is mistakenly called "Mt. Aso" (the locals get flustered about this, as there is apparently no single mountain called "Aso," yet even the Japanese tourists make this error). We stayed at a hostel called「阿蘇び心」 "Asobi gokoro," a great play on words where 「遊び」 "Asobi" means 'play,' but the characters for the "aso" part are substituted with the characters for the region's name、「阿蘇」Aso. 「心」"Kokoro" means 'heart.' It's difficult to explain, but quite a clever thing if you know Japanese. The hostel's staff is also incredibly kind, and offer you a full explanation of the area and history on your first stay, as well as recommendations on where to go. They also pick you up and drop you off at the nearby station, for free.
But I digress. It was Erika's birthday on Saturday, and neither she nor Dan had ever seen the caldera, whereas somehow I had seen it about 5 times by then. On Saturday morning, we took a leisurely stroll around the artsy countryside near our hostel, coming across a strange, bird-focused topiary, the prefecture's only colored cement artist, and a strange combination of Japanese characters burned into the side of a mountain (something like 内"in" and 牧 "breeding" -- inbreeding?). We went up to the volcano, saw it, had some ice cream, then went to have lunch -- except all the places were closed. We had inadvertently missed lunch-time, and so ended up eating a skewer of grilled meat from a street vendor before setting off, stomachs a-rumble, for our next location: Takachiho.
高千穂 Takachiho: Land of the holy Cods?
Takachiho is in the northwest corner of Miyazaki prefecture, and borders Aso on the east. The drive was only about two hours from Aso. It was a grey day, and after a late lunch on the way, we arrived to our hotel -- a small, two-story business hotel run out of what had probably been the old man's home at one point.As a city itself, it is nothing terribly beautiful; it's a tiny town, with unremarkable buildings, no real train, and maybe two or three convenience stores. Historically, however, it is one of the most sacred places in Japan, if not the most sacred. The gorge that we had gone to see is said to have been formed thousands of years ago, when the volcano in Aso last erupted. It's said that from there the gods pulled out the islands of Japan. However, the detailed, well-written English sign at the location made the one error, insisting that it was the hold "cods" that made Japan. Needless to say, this has become an ongoing joke amongst us.
It's long and narrow with clear and crisp blue water, flanked by dark rocks and forest. It's also incredibly close to the city itself, and packed on the weekends, so if you want to go you should plan to get there early in order to park. We had to park in the further lot and walk a long way down to the row-boat station, but it was worth the hike if only for the beautiful trails and tiny bridges. We had to wait for two hours to ride the row boat, but the wait was worth it. Somehow, with much effort on Dan's part to understand Erika's directions (it was a backwards row-boat, and we call Erika "Master Navigator" ironically, though she eventually gets us where we need to go), we managed to get in a great view with some stunning pictures to boot.
From there, we traveled ten minutes across town to another portion of the river, next to which there is a shrine in the cave that is said to have been the hiding place of the goddess Amaterasu (the goddess of the sun) when she got into a fight with one of the other gods. Many people were visiting to pray there. We mostly took pictures, and enjoyed the thousands of rocks stacked devotedly in triads throughout the cave area.
Following that, we departed for our last location: Bungo-ono, Oita Prefecture. This place boarders both Aso and Takachiho on the north, so we were essentially triangulating. Looking at the GPS, we saw a road that seemed more direct than the main road, so we decided to take it. This was the first experience that led us to realize an important road rule in Japan: If the route has less than three numbers in its name, then you're going to be on a small, rural road. If it has one number, brace yourself!
We were on the road we endearingly call "the 7," which we invoke with a disgruntled shaking of fists if not a bit of humor every time we drive on a narrow road. "The 7" started off all right, but quickly narrowed off into a one-lane, dirt mountain road. Now, in Amakusa, there's a well of unpaved mountain roads with space for about one car and most of us have had the experience of back up slowly into the winding curb to let an oncoming car pass. "The 7", however, was special in that it was flanked on the mountainside by a giant gaijin trap (a large, uncovered space between the road and the mountain to help water run-offs in spring and rainy season and which unsuspecting foreigners often drive their cars into), and a steep cliff drop-off on the other side.
Oh, and by the way, it was rail-less.
The view was stunning, and I pride myself on my control of my car. However, the weather, which had been fabulous in Takachiho, was turning stormy. The winds soon picked up, and the clouds over the distant mountain range started to get swirly. We were spared from rain, but the leaves were starting to fly past us, and once Erika had to get out of the car to move a giant tree branch out of the road. The further we drove, the more frequent the hairpin turns became, the slower we had to drive, and the more apparent that we had to haul ass to our destination.
As much as we cursed "the 7," though, we saw two awesome waterfalls along the way, one an orange color that we're sure we'll never seen again.
As the elevation started dropping and we were entering Oita, the weather started to relax. The cliffsides gave way to more ample, forested roads, but then all we started seeing was shacks and abandoned buildings. It was almost like a horror film. Our speculations kept building exaggeratedly, until we finally reached our town, which was large and spread out for a small town, and not the least bit creepy. Our hotel was nice, and we saw not even one pachinko parlor (slot-style gambling establishments, the only kind legal in Japan it seems), though we did see an advertisement for one named "Miami."
Following that, we departed for our last location: Bungo-ono, Oita Prefecture. This place boarders both Aso and Takachiho on the north, so we were essentially triangulating. Looking at the GPS, we saw a road that seemed more direct than the main road, so we decided to take it. This was the first experience that led us to realize an important road rule in Japan: If the route has less than three numbers in its name, then you're going to be on a small, rural road. If it has one number, brace yourself!
We were on the road we endearingly call "the 7," which we invoke with a disgruntled shaking of fists if not a bit of humor every time we drive on a narrow road. "The 7" started off all right, but quickly narrowed off into a one-lane, dirt mountain road. Now, in Amakusa, there's a well of unpaved mountain roads with space for about one car and most of us have had the experience of back up slowly into the winding curb to let an oncoming car pass. "The 7", however, was special in that it was flanked on the mountainside by a giant gaijin trap (a large, uncovered space between the road and the mountain to help water run-offs in spring and rainy season and which unsuspecting foreigners often drive their cars into), and a steep cliff drop-off on the other side.
Oh, and by the way, it was rail-less.
The view was stunning, and I pride myself on my control of my car. However, the weather, which had been fabulous in Takachiho, was turning stormy. The winds soon picked up, and the clouds over the distant mountain range started to get swirly. We were spared from rain, but the leaves were starting to fly past us, and once Erika had to get out of the car to move a giant tree branch out of the road. The further we drove, the more frequent the hairpin turns became, the slower we had to drive, and the more apparent that we had to haul ass to our destination.
As much as we cursed "the 7," though, we saw two awesome waterfalls along the way, one an orange color that we're sure we'll never seen again.
As the elevation started dropping and we were entering Oita, the weather started to relax. The cliffsides gave way to more ample, forested roads, but then all we started seeing was shacks and abandoned buildings. It was almost like a horror film. Our speculations kept building exaggeratedly, until we finally reached our town, which was large and spread out for a small town, and not the least bit creepy. Our hotel was nice, and we saw not even one pachinko parlor (slot-style gambling establishments, the only kind legal in Japan it seems), though we did see an advertisement for one named "Miami."
Go figure.
We spent Sunday night uneventfully, and woke early on Monday to hit the caves we had intended to see. We were sidetracked by an hour in our search for the Totoro Bus Stop (Totoro is a famous Japanese animation for children), but we got there eventually. The caves weren't as natural as we had hoped, but were still big enough to occupy us for about 2 hours, and impressive enough to be worth the trip. For anyone interested in caves, but worried about straining oneself, this is a great place; you don't really need more than sneakers really.
In the same park area next to the caves is a giant statue of the Buddhist god Kanon, and some other Buddhist statues. Then, there's the random throw-back replica of a Japanese street of the 1940's or '50s, including an old, glass-bottle coke vending machine (with real glass-bottle cokes you can buy!) and an old toy and paraphernalia store. Why are these three things all together in the same place, and included on the same entrance ticket?
You learn to stop asking "why" about these things in Japan after a while. The more frustrating, work-related things can be grating, but I'm willing to let these touristic oddities slide.
Anyway, from the caves we set off on our trip home, stopping only at a RANDOM, GIANT WATERFALL in the middle of the city to eat our convenience store lunch.
In the same park area next to the caves is a giant statue of the Buddhist god Kanon, and some other Buddhist statues. Then, there's the random throw-back replica of a Japanese street of the 1940's or '50s, including an old, glass-bottle coke vending machine (with real glass-bottle cokes you can buy!) and an old toy and paraphernalia store. Why are these three things all together in the same place, and included on the same entrance ticket?
You learn to stop asking "why" about these things in Japan after a while. The more frustrating, work-related things can be grating, but I'm willing to let these touristic oddities slide.
Anyway, from the caves we set off on our trip home, stopping only at a RANDOM, GIANT WATERFALL in the middle of the city to eat our convenience store lunch.
The drive back to Amakusa was about 4 hours, and we didn't get back until late, but the Tuesday morning exhaustion at work was well worth it.
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