These dreams won't let me be...

People say that dreams often represent the desires of the subconscious mind.

When I was at my old job, it was more like "torment of the subconscious mind" - I would dream about not finding an editor, or perpetually filling out the project forms on that special project management software we used!

Now, however, I find myself dreaming about Amakusa.

It's never a memory, always a return. I've just arrived, and I haven't told anyone that I'm there to visit. It's always a surprise. This is not a recurring dream, however -- it's always different. One day, I'm visiting the 711 that was by my apartment and the family that runs it; another day, I'm headed to the sushi bar, excited to see my adoptive Japanese "dad".

The reason I find this so strange is that these dreams only started up a few months. At least once a week. Of course I've wanted to go back and visit since...well...basically, the time that I came back to the States. That said, I've been so busy that my day-time musings of Japan have been short, though I use Japanese on a daily basis.

It's not hard to say what I miss the most: people, hands down. It wasn't a tourist trip for me, nor did it have the finite boundaries of a study abroad. The people I connected with - my students, neighbors, coworkers, friends - were what made Amakusa great.

Living the small-town life - and I mean really living it, not just being a student at a university in a tiny town (though I did that, too!) - gave me a different perspective on life all together.

I used to have high hopes and expectations for myself as a kid, the kind of student that killed all but my math classes, ate, slept, and wept academics and high gpas. Though taking Japanese language in college was a reality check for me (honestly, I think the only thing I've ever struggled more with is Calculus), I was still a go-getter throughout college for the most part. I had a clear plan: Graduate, do JET 1 year, go to Grad School, Pass Go, Collect $200 plus Salary and Benefits.

I look back now and think, "Damn, I was a machine." In Amakusa, however, life was simple. I went to work at my small school, went home, did some pottery or shamisen with the local teachers, went home, ate dinner, went to sleep. On weekends, I saw my friends. My job wasn't glorious - it was often frustrating, but what job isn't? However, the interactions I had with my students, with the people around town, gave me a joy that I think I didn't truly appreciate until now.

Growing up, I had aspirations to be a lawyer, a psychologist, a professor - something grander than what I was doing in Amakusa. There was always an anxiety that came with that, an anxiety I still feel when I think about it. But now, dreaming of Amakusa, it makes me wonder: would living a simple life be bad? Is it wrong to want to do less than I know I'm completely capable of? I think it's just fine for other people, so why not myself?

In any case, I never thought I would have ended up in a place as small and sleepy as Amakusa, but I would never take it back. Hopefully, I'll be visiting soon.

Reflection: The Transition Year

Another year has come and gone. 

It's been a year that I've been back from Japan, and yet it's strange to think I've been back so long. It's even stranger to think that only now do I feel like I'm starting to live my life again.

What is it that they say? That Change is never easy? I didn't have too much trouble with it initially when I moved to Japan, save carrying all of it around in my wallet (oh yeah, and there were those swollen ankle days).

Moving back to the U.S., however...

Well, the first 5 days home, I was tired. And it wasn't that Jet lag tired -- I felt drained. Physically, my trip in Japan and LA had exhausted me. Emotionally, there were too many ties to Japan, an abruptness to the departure that left me kind of empty.

It didn't quite feel real. It wasn't until I went over to my sister's house for my "Welcome Home" party that I realized I hadn't left my house in 5 days.

When I told her, she all but shoved me out the door. Go to the place with free WiFi, buy the cheapest damn coffee they have, and don't come home until you've applied to at least 5 jobs.

This is probably the best time to explain that my sister and I, being 7 years apart, get along like PB&J. Now, if you'd known us as kids, you would never believe it. She was the big sister who locked me out of her room at play time, I was the little sister poking her over a foam ice chest in the back seat of a rented sedan on our two-week road trips with mom and dad. Somewhere along the line, we went from nemeses to co-conspirators.

Now, when I'm bugging out, she just gets me.

I like to think that I'm a good voice of reason every once in a while, too.

Anyway, after back to the program: My sister kicked me out with a matter-of-fact order. For the next few days, Panera became my haunt. Alas, I did not find the meaning of life, nor my next job, at the bottom of a crappy iced coffee cup. It did, however, give me a little more motivation.

And vitamin D. That always helps.

I did find my next job soon after. My mom, ever talkative and helpful, came upon a coworker with ties to a translation company. (The company will remain unnamed). I sent my resume, had some interviews, and started as an editing intern.

I was excited! For the first time in 6 weeks, something was moving in my life, and it seemed like I had a good opportunity to work on my Japanese. However, this is Miami.

AKA North Latin America.

Before I knew it, I was reviewing Spanish, Spanish, and more Spanish. Granted, I was getting a good reading practice, and I had the chance to work with some of the best, most detail-oriented senior editors, but more often than not I felt as though my eyeballs were about to fall out of my head.

It was only supposed to be for a couple of weeks, then I was going to work on Japanese-English documents, they said. What really happened was one of the most stressful periods of my life.

Disclaimer: I lasted eight months at that job. Throughout that period, I gained an incredible amount of business experience and met fantastic friends that I am perpetually grateful for.

That said, I don't think I have ever been more miserable. At first, I told myself that it was a learning curve -- Project Management, business, was something I had no experience with. They'd started training me on a new client, which blew up fast. That account became my baby. There was always a new challenge, a higher hurdle, and it was all part of the curve. Someday, I'll reach the top of the hill, I said to myself, short-winded.

It just so happened that the hill included an obstacle course of long hours, emails 24/7, and no overtime pay. The worst was when I'd dream of work, wake up, and have to go to work. It happened more times than I can count. Eventually, I came face to face with a conundrum: I was so drained that I needed coffee, but coffee started to make me anxious.

Finally, it came to the point where I could no longer ignore the fact that crying when I came home from work was not only hormonal, and that the shortness of breath and tears together were panic attacks -- something I'd never suffered from before. I even went to see a shrink.

So I quit. I admit, at first it hurt my pride to leave at first, almost like I was giving up. However, another job opportunity came along not long after, and I am now happily using Japanese in my every day life. I took a pay cut, and the kind of work doesn't seem quite as prestigious -- I don't get to call the shots, most of the time. Even so, I feel like I've done a complete 180. Reasonable hours? Normal days off? Weekends without answering emails? Home before 9? Wait, before 7?!

I remember telling a coworker towards the end that I didn't even feel human anymore. Perhaps that was the most valuable lesson I learned from that job: that no job is worth that kind of misery.

Again, the knowledge and experience I gained there are invaluable and will undoubtedly help me in the future. The human connections -- for all the inhumanity I felt -- were priceless. Some of my coworkers became my best friends, and my bosses were always kind to me. It just so happened that they were as crazy workaholic as the industry expected me to be.

So, to sum it up, I spent the better part of a year like that. A lot of good things happened in that time, too, however.

I started growing a little maple tree for a few months (it eventually died, but I reveled in the short growth process). I went to France for two weeks after I quit my job, which I liked more than I expected (French people are much nicer than we are often led to believe). Oh, and that sister I mentioned earlier? She had a baby, a cute little nephew for me to spoil when he's old enough to tell the difference.

Don't get me wrong, I still can't wait to go back to Japan. But it seems like life is finally moving forward again. I have absolutely no idea what the next step will be, or where it will take me, but at the very least it's started off with a smile on my face.

On the way home...

By now you must be wondering, "Where is she? Where has she been?"

Well, now I'm back home. As to how I got here? Beyond the conventional airplane, of course.  Well, that's a longer, somewhat bumpier story.

The first part of this was written in a somewhat surly state of mind, influenced by sleep-depravation and the general frustrations associated with dragging a good percentage of your life across 7,000 miles of ocean and terrain in three suitcases. Please forgive me when it gets ranty, haha. The second part, well...let's see how it goes.

Part I - ALL I WANTED WAS SOME SOBA.

I had it all planned out.

When I went to Kamakura, and out with friends on my last days in Japan, I though, "Nah, I'll get it at the airport." It was to be my last, perfect meal, a time to reflect in my last few moments alone in Japan.

zaru soba: cold soba noodles, a refreshing summer staple



All I wanted was some freaking zaru soba and tempura. What I got was a quick, ready-made sandwich in a plastic pack from Dotour as I ran to the boarding gate.



This is what happened:

I left my friend's place, and got to Narita Airport at a reasonable time (about 2.45 hours before my flight). I had left my two large suitcases with my friends at the 711 コンビニ (convenience store) back in Amakusa, who sent it to Tokyo for me four days before my flight. The shipping company had called to confirm that my bags had arrived at the airport the day before, and there was a cell phone station where I could cancel my service right next to it. It seemed to be going perfectly.

"Seemed" being the optimal word.

As soon as I got to the airport, things went downhill fast.

I strolled up to the cell phone kiosk counter of Terminal 2, ready to cancel my phone service, only to be met with a surprise. My 2-year contract would be "up" on September 1st - even though I started a contract on August 14th two years prior. It was August 27th. Could I just leave instructions for them to cut my service on September 1st? No, I had to be there physically. Could I have a friend go in person to close my account? No, it had to be me or a family member. After a bit more prodding, they told me I could have my work supervisor do it for me, but I'd have to hand her the special form... 
 


...too bad my flight was in two hours.

So guess what? $100 early cancellation fee, plus my regular bill.

Nothing to do but pay, so pay I did.

But at least I had my baggage situation arranged, right? WAIT. I arrived to find that, yes, my bags had arrived, but to the WRONG terminal. There "wasn't enough time" for them to transport my bags to the next terminal - given the time that Kuroneko would spend in calling the truck, packing the bags, and delivering them to the next terminal - so I had to take them on the terminal shuttle with me. Now, terminal shuttles run great at Japanese airports, much like anything else in the country. However, we're talking about me, two +20 kg  (approx. 60-70 lbs) suitcases, one carry-on, and a shoulder bag. Somehow, with the balancing/clinging skills honed during my university bus-riding days and the help of two nice, Japanese ladies, I managed to do it.

I thought I'd cleared it, and did my math: I'd have about an hour to check my bags in and have lunch...except SURPRISE!

Delta recently changed their international flight baggage allowance from 2 checked-in suitcases to 1. So bam! $100 extra baggage fee. Oh, and one of my suitcases was over weight. But not just overweight. (Mind you, I realize this is my own fault for having too much crap, but really). The policy is that 24-32 kg costs $75 extra. Above 32kg to, gee, Idon'tevenknow, would cost $200 extra. My bag weighed 33 kg! The stewardess directed me to the corner nearby, and told me if I could transfer 1 kg to my other suitcase, which was underweight, then I could avoid the heftier of the two fines.







Now, if my suitcase would only open. The overweight suitcase was an old, hard-shell beast, which my father had found for $5 at a garage sale and had fixed for my initial trip to Japan. It had lost a handle on the way there, and apparently lost proper lock function just as I was ready to make my way back. After about 10 minutes of fighting with my luggage, I finally managed to open this crazy bag, transfer some clothes, and...now the suitcase won't freaking lock. Another 20 minutes later, I'd finally managed to lock one side of the suitcase, and slip the clasp lock on the side of the other. 

With a hope and a prayer, I rush to check in my two suitcases in, practically throwing $200 at the stewardesses. At this point, about 45 minutes have passed. I realize I don't have enough money in my Japanese account to cover the extra cost of the phone bill, but as I rush to the ATM (you can deposit money from an ATM to your account for most banks in Japan!), I realize that  I can't because my tiny Amakusa bank is, well...too tiny.HAHA!


By now, it's about 3:30 in the afternoon. I haven't eaten lunch, and haven't really eaten breakfast, but there are 10 minutes until boarding. I haul ass through security, manage to buy a prepackaged sandwich from Dotour near the gate, and make it just in time to line up for boarding. 

Well, I didn't get that soba, but at least I got that Coolish Peach ice cream in a pack from the vending machine. And the girls next to me on the plane were nice. 



Bright sides, right?

Plus, I was going to see my great friends in LA, where I was going to spend a week before making my final stop in Miami. 

Except, someone left an entire container of bags on the plane in LA, of which mine were conveniently included, so I, along with several other passengers, were waiting over an hour for our bags to get out of the plane. This bag carousel is also just  past customs - a no-phone zone - but also had an extra customs component that made the carousel area phone-free. I couldn't even get the airport wireless signal to message my friend who was picking me up. 

When I finally get out of the airport, I spend 15 minutes just trying to get onto the wifi. By the time I am able to contact my friend, he has just left the airport because he has a class at Northridge...and with the traffic, and there's no way he can turn around to come back to the airport...



So, again, My Three Suitcases and I hobble slowly, painfully, to a charter bus that drops me an hour away, nearer to my friend's school, hobble into the wire-less terminal (no phone for me, and certainly no wireless devices), where I started plugging away at this blog post. 

Needless to say, my departure from Japan was less than stellar, and certainly less than I had imagined for myself. From that point on, though, things got much better: My friend arrives, we get food, and after a magnificent shower I spend a great week seeing the LA sights with my great friends Monica and Justin. It was just the medicine I needed after that ordeal. 

And the best part? My suitcases stayed in the trunk all week.

School Lunch

...kind of.

In Japanese schools, 給食 (kyuushoku), or school lunch, is compulsory. There is a special person at the head of the Kyushoku Center who crafts the menus for all the schools in an area, term by term. These aren't the frozen something-nuggets that our schools threw in an oven, or the limp green beans and french fries we warily ate in American schools (I saw "we" collectively, as I always brought my own lunch to school). Japanese school lunch is in fact made by the people at the centers. The idea is that, by eating the lunch prepared by the lunch centers, the schools can educate children on healthy eating habits.

A typical Japanese school lunch (in my area) consists of:

Rice
Salad
Miso Soup (variety)
Meat (usually fish or chicken)
Milk

(On special occasions, perhaps thrice a year, there's cake or some other sweet.)

This really translates to:

A mountain of rice.
Half a small plate of thin, pickled cucumber salad.
Miso soup with  some vegetables, but mostly potato and konnyaku (a hard, tasteless jelly)
Meat (which, when not chicken or fish, translates to fried medalians full of mystery called 'croquet')
Milk (freezing in the winter, luke warm at best in the summer by the time you can drink it.)

This all adds up to a whopping 1,000  calories. 

That's almost a daily caloric intake, I thought when I first found out. No wonder I felt like I was going to burst.

While granted more delicious than any public school meal I'd had in the States,  I don't need that much food at lunch. I can't eat that much food at lunch! Kyushoku was built with growing children in mind. But teachers in the public system have to heat it, too, as a way to educate the children. And, you have to eat everything, even the things that you don't like (even if you hate it). I guess it's good in a way because it makes children have to try new things, but at the same time I think it can breed resentment. I  certainly felt resentful. There aren't a lot of foods I dislike, and even then I can eat them if the situation calls for it, but having to eat everything on my plate, especially when I didn't serve myself, was extremely taxing.  I was seriously struggling not to fall into a post-lunch coma during my afternoon classes, especially at elementary school where I have to be the most active.

I tried asking the teachers who make the lunches to serve me less, but they kept doing the same thing. Again, and again, and again.

So I quit. And started bringing my own lunches.

I was lucky, since my school still let me eat with the children. I suppose they see it as a form of cultural exposure, but other people who have quit eating Kyushoku weren't so lucky. Their schools made them stop eating with the children so as to not influence them.

In any case, my lunches (now cut down to perhaps a third of its previous caloric value) consist of many different recipes, some local, some Cuabn (when you try to make picadillo in Japan, you learn just how much a difference an olive makes!), and most times my own creations.

This is my most recent Japanese お弁当（o-bento), or "homemade lunch."



かっぱ巻き（kappa maki)Cucumber roll with sesame (I cheated and added prociutto because, well, I had some left!)


いなり寿司(inari-zushi) Sweet soybean curd filled with vinegared rice (and sometimes other stuff).

たくあん(takuan) Yellow, pickled Japanese radish

A little pre-made pasta salad (you wouldn't believe how popular that stuff is here!)








 

Daily Dallys

I've written quite a bit on my travels, and been on even more than I've written about, but I rarely talk about the things that go on every day.

While the daily things that keep me busy may not be as exciting, they're just as much a part of my life as my trips, if not more so.

More importantly, they're easier to write about on a consistent basis. When I think of cramming all of my wonderful experiences into one post -- impossible, even for me -- I get anxious and tend to procrastinate. It's my goal to try to update at least once a week.

Better late than never!

Experiences in Jewelry Making

When I went to Kyoto with my mother in the Spring of last year, I bought some cute, hanging earrings, cloth-crafted white flowers with a dab of color at the center...which I promptly LOST. But only one. Frankly, I don't know what's worse, the loss of a new purchase or the taunting reminder that it's not fully gone.

In any case, I searched  everywhere I went for earrings similar to that which I had lost, but not even specialty stores that sold that kind of fabric and objects made of that fabric sold earrings.

So, I decided to make my own!







I bought the flowers at one of the specialty stores -- while I am amazing, and I'm sure there's some youtube tutorial about  making them, I didn't make this particular part myself. Then I bought the earring parts (posts, beads) at a craft store. I've never made jewelry before, so I kind of did this at my own whim, cramming things together how I thought they'd hold together and using pliers that I'm sure were meant for other purposes. Currently they're being held down with a Scotch Tape backing (desperate times, you know?) until I can find a proper back to glue them to the post.

“Traffic Cops,” or “It’s not like we’re trying to make a countdown.”

Between Graduation and preparing for the new school year, playing catching is hard work! I’ll do my very best, though.



This issue will be about…

New Years in Japan (Part Deux)

This past December, after enjoying a brief stay back home for my sister’s wedding, I flew back to Japan. For those of you who don’t know, when you fly from America to Japan it’s like you lose almost two days due to the time difference. That put me on the cusp of the new year when I flew out on December 29th from the East Coast.
 

Arriving (groggily) in the early morning hours of December 31st, I had about 4 hours to rest in my airport hotel before checkout. After transferring my bags to my next hotel, I hit the streets of Tokyo to meet with my old college friend, Julia. We studied Japanese together, and she’s likewise teaching English in a place north of Tokyo. This was the first time we’d seen each other in almost two years, so it was great. We met with a coworker of hers, also spending New Year’s in Tokyo, and went for lunch and some light shopping on the famous streets of Ginza.

That night, we went to Shibuya (a popular nightlife district in Tokyo) for dinner with a few other friends of hers. It was a prison themed restaurant, with each of the tables secluded in cubicles like a cell block, barred windows and all. It was slightly dark, and every once in a while a siren would blare, the lights would flash, and people who had “broken out” would run around with masks.

As the hour got later, we finished dinner and went along our ways. Julia’s friends had opted to stay in lively Shibuya for the countdown, but Julia and I planned to be two among hundreds (if not thousands) of people making a trip to the famous Sensouji Shrine in Asakusa on New Year’s eve.

We had planned for this in advance, knowing that many people would be out and about. Traffic would be bad, both on the streets and on trains, but we had left early to combat that. However, there was one thing we hadn’t expected: that the police would be our undoing!

Don’t worry, no one got arrested. At least, none of us. The point I want to make is:

Traffic cops are terrible. Everywhere.

While I’m sure they had good intentions like crowd-control and traffic relief in mind, what they really created was a mass of confusion. Like cattle, we (the crowds) were herded off the streets and onto the sidewalks – a smart move for safety, and now what I have qualms with. The mess began when certain, otherwise convenient subway entrances were blocked from use. Locals and tourists alike complained in confusion, stopping to ask cops where the heck we were supposed to get the subway, all the while moving along at an ant’s crawl.

Needless to say, Julia and I hadn’t anticipated pedestrian traffic of this level. Add to that, Shibuya is at least a 30 minute train ride from Asakusa. We jumped on the first train that came as soon as we made it to the train stop, but even then we were only the slightest bit out of luck.

So it was that we found ourselves counting down the seconds to midnight on a crowded, Tokyo train next to a very amused Japanese woman.


“It’s not like we’re trying to make a countdown, or anything.”

 

The train arrived at Asakusa Station at 12:02 am.

We thought we would have to run to the shrine once we exited the train, but as we ascended onto the busy street I looked at Julia and said, “What the heck. It’s not like we’re trying to make a countdown or anything.”

It became our slogan for the night.

We went to the nearest convenience store and bought some wine coolers, then proceeded to the shrine. It was quite cold out, and we were sure to be waiting in line for a while, so we figured the alcohol would keep us warm on our way.


When we arrived, however, it was worse than we had expected. The crowd, at least 60 people or more across, spanned back about 5 blocks from the shrine with hopeful Japanese waiting to make their first prayers for a good 2014.


By this point, we were freezing and exhausted (I’d averaged a total of 4.5 hours of sleep in the previous 24 hours, and Julia had likewise arrived from a trip abroad on the previous night). Glancing at each other, we shrugged.


“It’s not like we’re trying to make a countdown.”


The shrine would be there when we got back. So would the people, but we hoped the crowd would have died down by then. We went to a nearby bar, where we warmed up and played card games with a few area locals. At around 2 am, we returned to the shrine. The crowd had lessened, but we still waited about an hour and a half before we arrived at the shrine steps. The crowd leaving was much better than arriving, but still hectic to push through. By the time we were walking to the station, it was about 5 am. As we trudged along, we were surprised to find that Starbucks was open.

We were cold again, and we figured, “Well, it’s not like we’re trying to make a countdown!” So we had our first coffees of the year in a Japanese Starbucks, watching as the rest of Japan trudged along home.

神戸 Kobe

The Takachiho　trip entry was long winded. I'm going to try to shorten the future posts for the sake of my own time, but I make no promises.



This time, I want to talk about Kobe. A neighbor from the U.S., who was placed in Kobe, couldn't rave enough about it. On another long weekend, when everyone was busy, I decided to go on my own. I trained and flew out to Osaka on Friday night. When I got to Guesthouse Tennoji (a place I've stayed before), it was nearly midnight. The Guesthouse keeper remembered me, but looked perplexed. Apparently, somewhere between all of the English competitions I was training my students for, I didn't realize that his Guesthouse requested an email confirmation. It's rare that hostels or hotels do so in Japan. As such, he had canceled my reservation for that night, but I was in luck! The mens dormitory was completely empty that night, so I was able to stay there.

I was staying in hostel in Kobe the next night, but I really wanted to see Hikone Castle, which is in Shiga, bordering the east of Kyoto (if you look at the map, it'll all make more sense).





I set off on a 45 minute train ride with all of my bags to meet up with my friend Masafumi who lived in Kyoto and had planned to come see the castle with me. Carrying my bags, I mused about the pleasantries of public transportation in Japan. Almost all Japanese train stations and airports have lockers of varying sizes, which make traveling from place to place extremely convenient. I intended to do so with my duffel bag and backpack. As the train I was on got crowded, I placed my duffel bag in the overhead rack and relaxed.

When I finally got to the station at which we were meeting, I took one look at my friend's face and felt the icy cold fingers of realization rake down my back; I had forgotten my bag on the train!

Not only that, but I had forgotten my bag on the train when I changed trains at Kyoto Station, easily one of the biggest, busiest stations in Japan. I was lucky that I had forgotten my duffel bag and not my book-bag, which had all my important things -- computer, phone, wallet, etc. However, the duffel bag had all of my clothes for the trip, including spare shoes and all of a girl's essentials.

Thankfully, Japanese trains run extremely on time. Trains are only late by a minute, if at all, and so online train tables are very accurate. If you ever travel by train in Japan, check out hyperdia.com (input the departing station, arrival station, and departing time, and it will give you several options around that time, including prices!)

It was easy enough to explain to the station staff at what point in time I lost my bag, but describing it was another matter. All I could say was "It's a Japanese style design with lots of zippers." Which it was. There was no other way to describe it, as only seeing would really help, and there was no solid description to go on besides "it has lots of flowers." Even so, the staff was kind enough to put out a call for train attendants to be on the lookout.

There was nothing to be done at that point, so my friend and I went out to see the castle.

Hikone Castle is one of the few original castles of Japan. There's no real furnishing left inside, but the timbers of the rafters are not as factory-straight like some of the recreations; rather, they are made from naturally cut trunks, and it's interesting to see how they curve together to support the roof.

We called the station help line to check on the status of my bags over a cup of Starbucks coffee (Japan has special flavors not available in America, so don't judge me!), but they were still lost to me it seemed.

It was nearing 7:00 in the evening. Sad and clothes-less save the clothes on my very back, I took an hour train ride to Kobe, this time careful not to leave my bags behind. My GPS insisted on taking me down an alley that looked like a dead end, but as I turned the corner, there before my very eyes was a colorful, newly built hostel that radiated warmth.

Exhausted, and not little worried for my bags -- I was on a three-day trip, day one, with no spare clothes! -- I checked in. I had a personal room with a bathroom and shower to myself, which was a relief. As I was preparing my instant noodles in the kitchen of the place, two Japanese guys come in, acting like a comedy duo. They were surprised that I not only spoke Japanese, but enough to joke back at them. Needless to say, we were fast friends.

The two of them were actually Kobe locals, who were friends with the barista/bar tender and often came to the hostel to drink coffee.

Oh yeah, as if it's not cool enough that this hostel is an old Japanese house that was reconstructed by the owners and the owners' friends by hand, and is decorated with original artwork (doors, walls, everything!), it has a small cafe area that's available to everyone, locals included. The barista, a twenty-something with an awesome mustache, mysterious air, and incredible English skills, was equally entertaining. Talking through the night with them and the female owner, I ended up with two tour guides for the next day.

My friend from Kyoto, who had never been to Kobe, was kind enough to come meet up with me, and as we were about to call the train station, I got a call instead. Lucky for me, my bag ended up at a station only a ten minute train ride away! We went over and got the bag, with all of my articles untouched, and got a nice view of the coast along the way. The rest of the day, we spent with the Kobe Comedy duo, who took us all around the city by foot.

The harbor area at night is splendid, as many of the buildings are illuminated, including a rainbow-lit Ferris wheel. The most astounding part, however, was the large waterfall on a mountain directly behind Shin-Kobe station, a major station!

Overall, this was my impression of Kobe. It used to be the center of Kansai, that region of Japan, until the great earthquake a bunch of years ago. Now, it's still a rather large port city, but the main attractions seem to be shopping and food, Osaka having taken a more dominant role in the realm of business. Many of the streets are wide and open, and there's a lot of beauty to be seen. Compared to other places, it may seem unremarkable, but there's an air that's, simply put, enchanting about it. Now that I have friends there, it's double attractive, and I couldn't wait to go again. I did, actually, for this past New Year's, but that's a story for another time...

5-month Hiatus: Shenanigans.

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...

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.

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."

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.

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.

Catching up: Cambodia

It was crowded and noisy. We were sitting on the floor at the low tables in the only room of the small Sushi restaurant that we frequent monthly for birthdays. They were set out with an array of foods -- starfish carcases piled on plates, fresh sliced fish nestled in beds of cabbage salad, cuts of succulent Japanese fried chicken, deep flavored green tea roll cakes -- the remains of an amazing feast rising out of a graveyard of used plates and wooden chopsticks.

When my friend turned to me amidst the muddle of Japanese and English and boisterous laughter, the last thing I expected was, "Do you want to go to Cambodia with me?"

Certainly, Cambodia was the last place I'd thought of going. It's hard to say I had ever considered it at all.

Living in Japan, I realized that I have much closer access to a lot of places that would be much more expensive to travel to from America. I have friends who live in Australia, South Korea and China -- plenty of other friends who have been to Thailand -- but I knew little to nothing at all about Cambodia. At best, it was some forested, rural country near Thailand, and the most I'd actually heard of it was in conjunction with Laos and "Khmer Rouge" at a time when I was much too young to understand the news.

At that moment, I realized just how little of the world I actually knew. Well, know. I mean, I know there's a lot out there, but it hadn't occurred to me how many things are out there, ya know? And a new culture, and a new language?! All for one super-duper inexpensive cheap price? OF COURSE I SAID "Yes!"


It was a short trip -- three days, perhaps the shortest trip abroad I've ever had -- but it was, hands down, one of the most rewarding trips of my life so far.

We departed early one Saturday morning in April, taking a bus from Kumamoto City to Fukuoka airport, where we took our first  5-hour leg of the trip on Vietnam Airlines. The service was surprisingly wonderful, including some delicious food and coffee, and fragrant wet towelettes. The service at the Vietnam airport, in contrast, was much less welcoming. We deplaned into the hot, humid air of the afternoon, and took a small bus to the airport. Passing through security was easy enough; we lined up with the sticky, sweaty masses, and it went quite quickly, if not pleasantly.

The atmosphere - not the weather - was stifling; guards in their army green uniforms all but yelled at an old lady as she passed through security, and the guy who took my passport glanced disinterestedly away before handing it back to me without even opening it to my picture. The airport staff wasn't much better. A small airport with two floors, the layout of the shops is oval shaped like a running track, with glass-cased kiosks lining the center ring and the large, duty-free shops the outer rim. Monica and I had a small emergency, and the store clerks were beyond unhelpful as we looked through the hodgepodge of goods -- strawberry cream Oreos next to scorpion alcohol on a shelf above small change purses crushed next to hand crafted jewelry boxes. Between the two of us, we managed to scramble up an "excuse me" in Spanish, English, Japanese and Chinese, yet the women who worked the shops wouldn't even look at us unless we were ready to pay.

The heat of the airport -- unconditioned as most in southeast Asia -- added to the uncomfortableness of the situation. Though I have never been to Cuba, I couldn't help but feel a mild sense of dread, like something wasn't right; the military security uniforms, the uncaring, almost disdainful attitude of clerks towards customers...a slight paranoia that seems to run in most Cubans, perhaps a remnant survival instinct that runs in the blood after the traumatic aftermath of the revolution, one that can't help but equate Socialism as a euphemism for Communism...

But there was no time for that. Not with a 5 hour layover and way too much time to think. We found our supplies in the last store, and begrudgingly bought it from the most uncaring clerk of them all. Then we found the only place with airconditioning: a small cafe with peeling red vinyl booths and wireless internet, and an overpriced menu.

Make it more interesting: USD is the name of the game.

In an airport in Vietnam, where you could only pay in USD. Traveling from Japan, my companions and I brought Yen of course, which we planned to exchange when we got to Cambodia. My Japanese friends had no reason to have USD, but luckily I had quite a bit left over from my initial voyage to Japan -- something I carry in my wallet just in case of emergencies. It was enough to get us in and buy us some overpriced tea and coffee. While it was pure chance that I had it, I will certainly keep some on me just in case from now on.

Cambodia and Vietnam were like night and day. We took our short flight to Siem Reap, and landed easily in a balmy, tropical night so  reminiscent of home. Again, there was no bridge connection into the airport, so we walked. The staff at the airport was polite, nice even! The tour guide, a small slip of a man, dark gold like the natives, picked us up at the airport and took us with the rest of the Japanese tourists to our hotel for an incredible evening meal. The hotel itself was beautiful; French colonial style like so many others, with a wide open lobby flanked by two large staircases, and floor-to-ceiling glass windowed dining area in the back which led to the pool. Of course, there was no time for that.

We were tired, exhausted really. The beds had us fast asleep, but not for long enough it seems. At 4 am, Monica and I woke up for the optional portion of our tour: going to watch the sunrise at Angkor Wat. The boys decided to sleep in. Balmy but cool, it was an entirely worthy view.

We reconvened at the hotel for breakfast, which was an amazing spread of tropical fruits and western/eastern style breakfast (why not try some lemon chilli pepper pork congee with that baguette, madame?). Energy restored, we set off again to Angkor Wat, where the adventure really commenced.

Angkor Wat, now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, has not been fully roped off from tourists. This allowed for climbing and exploring the ruins easily, like Indiana Jones sans the lethal snakes and death traps.

Despite the heat, I was relishing the sweat, the sun, the organic scent of the red clay dust and forest and history. It smelled pure, natural. Paired with the magnitude of Angkor Wat, the complex temples surrounding the area, stones all intricately carved by hands who knew nothing but crude tools; "exhilarating" is just the tip of the iceberg.

"Third-world country."

You heard the world in school. On the news. You've probably used it, talked about the situations in such countries, possible solutions even, in conversation with friends and coworkers. I certainly had, growing up. But the knowledge of it was nothing compared to seeing it first-hand.

Humbling. Incredibly so.

The poverty was striking. In a country where public education, while offered, is not compulsory at any level, children become the weights at the end of the heartstrings, used by parents to sell their merchandise. Promise one 5 or 6 year old girl to buy a refrigerator magnet, and immediately you'll find yourself flocked by kids trying to sell you postcards, travel books, t-shirts -- all in nearly perfect English, rehearsed, and all pleading for you to buy from them with stories. "A landmine killed my father," one boy told me as I moved to walk away. He must not have been more than 11 or 12 years old. The next day I met another 12 year old boy who was working on a river boat, pushing off and docking, and giving $1 massages in between.


As refugees, my grandparents worked day and night so that my mom and aunt could go to school to better their futures. My initial reaction was, "Where's the responsibility, the priorities of these parents? Of society?" But the more we drove into the jungle, the fewer schools I saw, the more I came to realize. Especially if you live in the rural areas, your house is a wooden shack raised on stilts. You've got one big room, maybe a back room if you're lucky. Everyone lives and sleeps together. And if you've got 6 or 7 mouths to feed (or 10, like the tour guide's siblings), you don't have time to walk your kid 4 miles or more to school; you need to use as many resources as possible to make ends meet. That might include making a pact with a travel agency, so that they can bring foreigners to see your house, how locals live, just so you can earn an extra bit of money. Our tour took us to such an area, and while it was interesting, it seemed like such an absolute invasion of privacy; the necessary evil of foreign intruders in impoverished homes, almost wrong in the casualness of it all.

Trash was the other wonder.

I'd never given much thought to trash, besides taking it out on trash day. Of course, I've seen trash on the streets in America here and there, as much as I wish people would just put it in the can. In Japan, it's virtually unheard of to litter. While in Cambodia, the poor seem to dress cleanly even if their clothes are old, both in Siem Reap (the main city) and the countryside trash was amazingly abundant on the streets. We saw people taking out trash bags at night, so there must be some kind of disposal system in place; but either the dogs or other night animals must get to it often, and the people walk past without a care. I suppose, again, when you've got more important things on your to-do list like feeding your kids and paying bills, the trash conditions of your city take a back seat. It really made me think: At what point of a country's development does strict trash disposal become a commonality?

The Kingdom of Cambodia is young yet, only about 20 years old since civil war ravaged the country and a shaky facade of stability was pieced together, slowly making progress. Now, it has reportedly the third fastest growing economy in the world, but it still has a ways to go. 

Belatedly, Kagoshima

I had completely forgotten about my trip in February. On the Friday before a long weekend, my friend Monica and I drove out to visit  Josh, a friend of mine from college who was working in Kagoshima Prefecture.

Kagoshima is in the southernmost part of Kyushu. From Amakusa, it's about a 4 hour drive. Being from Florida, it should have been a piece of cake, but somewhere between the twilight zone tunnel (someone later told me the tunnel is actually 11 km long, and that's why I was disoriented) and waiting for the car ferry at Kagoshima, I thought I was going to die of exhaustion.

Anyway, we took a car ferry from Kagoshima city to the other part of Kagoshima, where we left the car at the port and took off with Josh as our weekend chauffer.

Josh lived in Kanoya, an area about another 1 hour drive from the port. while it seems inconvenient, it's actually a wonderfully located little place. Located between Kagoshima city and Miyazaki Prefecture, it allows for lots of travel. Case in point: we went to an awesome shrine in Miyazaki on Saturday!

This shrine is in actually located INSIDE A CAVE next to the ocean. There are lucky rocks inscribed with kanji (Japanese written characters) that people attempt to toss into a hole on a giant rock in the ocean.

This shrine is also famous for having a boob rock...basically a rock that feels like/is shaped like a boob attached to the cave wall. Of course, you have to do some groping around to find it (pun intended), and when you do it doesn't really so much resemble a boob as much as, well...a rock. This could be due to the fact that tourists and worshipers have sought it out and touched it so much over the years, or that the people who found it were entirely too desperate. I can just imagine some shrine priests and disciples groping around in the dark and saying, "hey, this kinda feels like..."  They weren't celibate, but still, living in a cave...

But I digress.

It was an amazingly beautiful place, the gusts of sea breeze surrounding the shrine, protected from water by the cave. We extra lucky in that there was a special ceremony going on that day. Apparently, when a baby turns one, it's usual for people to take their child to the shrine. It was just the parents, the baby, the priest, and the priestesses who played the ceremonial music and assisted the priest (kind of like alter boys in a church). The baby was swaddled in a grand kimono bundle. Unfortunately, we didn't get any pictures, but it was indeed a sight to see!

After the shrine visit, Josh's friend was having a baby shower, so we dropped by. We were dragged into a game of "scientific fertilization pin the tail on the donkey," with sperm and ovum replacing the tail and donkey. Somehow, I won. My prize was a foam ball gun!

On Sunday, we got a late start to the day and basically did one thing: ONSEN! Except this wasn't any regular hotspring, this was Ibutsuki sand onsen! At this sand onsen, you get changed into a yukata. Then, you go behind the building to the beach, where you lay in the sand and the onsen workers use pails to cover you with hot, black sand from head to neck. After about 15 minutes, body literally pulsing from relaxation (or is it compression? That sand was heavy!), you get out of the sand and go to the actual baths, where you rinse and shower and soak (in that order).

Kyushu, like much of Japan, is highly volcanic. Kagoshima is particularly full of volcanic activity, and the geothermal activity is precisely what heats the sands at Ibutsuki. Driving into the city, we could actually SEE the steam rising from some of the water drains in the road!

Another perfect example of Kagoshima's explosive potential is Mount Sakurajima -- possibly the most active volcano in Kyushu. And by explosive, I do mean explosive! Every day, this volcano sends out plumes of an innumerable amount of ash. Unlike Mt. Aso, where you can climb to the crater and look into the caldera on days that it's not emitting too much gas, you can't climb up to look into Mt. Sakurajima.

Well, I suppose it's possible. But you'd probably die.

I was told that the lungs of people born and raised in Kagoshima are about as bad  as those of a person who has smoked for 40 years. That said, the furthest we got was a volcanic lava rock overview, where we walked around older lava formations, bought some stuff from the merchants that was covered in ash (the pineapple juice also tasted ashy), and watched in a mixture of terror and amazement as the monster belched endless black streams into the sky.

I never thought I would be so impressed by a volcano, but let me just say that there really is nothing quite like it.


Last, we ate two of the must-eats from Kagoshima: Kurobuta (quite literally black pork; the bigs are black, and DELICIOUS), and Shirokuma (meaning not literally "white bear"; it's a shaved ice treat with fruit and condensced milk. It was so cold outside, but so good! (Anabel!)

Unique End-of-winter Holidays: Girl's Day, Boy's Day

While Japan has adopted  and improvised on some Western holidays like Christmas and Valentine's day, it also has quite a unique set of its own holidays.

O-Hinamatsuri - Girl's Day

Dating back to the Heian Period (late 8th century to late 12th century), this holiday was traditionally meant to ward away the bad spirits. Originally, every year straw dolls were collected in a boat and set afloat down the river and out to see, supposedly taking the bad luck with them. Nowadays, people no longer do that. You can, however, see colorful, elaborate displays of dolls representing the empress and emperor. The most is a 7-tiered platform, with a red carpet on which the dolls are placed.

Dolls begin to be displayed around February, and are taken down on March 3rd (superstition says that taking it down after the 4th can result in late marriage for a daughter!). From my own observations, this is also a time to celebrate daughters -- just like we have a mother's day or a father's day. Several families I know celebrated the first Hinamatsuri for their babies.

My pottery teacher was in charge of his town's City Hall and had his hands quite full with the City Hall doll display. However, that did give me the opportunity to make my own (much smaller) set of dolls!

Kodomo no Hi - Children's Day

Initially, this was boy's day, but that changed when it became a National holiday in Japan. This holiday, which used to take place on the 5th day of the 5th moon of the lunar calendar (confusing!), was changed permanently to May 5th when Japan officially changed to the Gregorian calendar. To celebrate, families raise flags of carp. The movement of the flag makes it look like the carp is swimming, the symbolism which calls to a traditional Japanese fairy tale about a boy named Kintaro. Some people also display a doll of Kintaro and a miniature set of the traditional samurai helmet/regalia, traditional gifts for newborn sons. I had the opportunity to see some of these, as one of my friends' parents kept a full set of my friend's (received by friends and family when he was born) as well as my friend's father's own set. Needless to say, they took up a whole table.

Children's day also marks the beginning of summer, and heralds the return of the rainy season...believe it or not, it's Spring in Japan now!

Valentine's Day Culture in Japan

It's now April, so it's about time I try to catch up on the months. I'll start with February, as nothing particularly interesting happens in January after New Year's.

In America, February is heralded (often as soon as Christmas is out) by heart shaped signs and confections in reds and pinks. For even the most hard-hearted of folks, it is impossible to escape this holiday and the repercussions of (gasp!) forgetting to get something for a significant other.

For those not romantically involved, it's a nice opportunity to give small gifts to friends, as well as a perfect excuse to eat your weight in chocolate.

In Japan, the borrowed holiday has been adopted as a holiday for lovers. While it's become a little more popular to give chocolates to your friends, it's mostly a couples holiday. The Japanese also capitalized big on this by creating another holiday to go along with it: White Day.

So what's the difference?

Well, on Valentine's Day, women give chocolates to the men (or special man) in their lives. Mothers will usually give some to their sons as well, as a show of affection. Handmade chocolates are particularly impressive, and -- when well-done -- coveted. Boys at school often joke eagerly about who will receive the most chocolates (even though they're not allowed to give them or receive them at school!)

White day, in turn, takes place on March 14th. This is the time when people reciprocate for the gifts they've received, usually with white chocolate in return. If you really know your gifter, you'll get them what they actually liked.

While I enjoyed the displays, I definitely didn't let Japanese conventions stop me this year. I made chocolates for my female coworkers, and my direct male boss as well (some people call this last one giri or obligation chocolate, but he's a really awesome boss!). As a result, I cashed in pretty well on White day!

New Year's Part II

Monthly installment, as usual. I keep saying I'll get better at this, but I suppose we'll have to wait and see if that's true.

In any case...

IN THE LAST EPISODE:

Lauren ventured out by train, braving neatly dressed women, crying children, and suit-clad sexual harassers, and arrived in the concrete jungle of Osaka, Japan. After serving justice on a side street, she proceeded to Nara, where she battled with the Holy Deer. With the blessings of the Giant Buddha, the deer were stripped of their horns -- and there was much rejoicing as peace once again reigned in the Kansai region of Japan...

AS THE STORY CONTINUES...

The night that we returned from Nara was relatively uneventful. I went to the central shopping streets to meet up with my friends from Amakusa -- coincidentally ALSO in Osaka for new year's -- and ate dinner there. As I was on my way to the train, I stopped in at a random bar. It was tiny, but classy. There was a 500 yen cover charge, but once I was in, I figured I may as well stay. I nursed one drink -- a Cuba Libre, which happens to be my drink of choice as of late -- and proceeded to chat up the bartender. There were only about 3 other people at the bar, but they were a group that seemed uninterested in my foreignness. I didn't mind at all.

As I went to leave, the bartender smiled at me and told me the drink was on the house. Turns out he was just a lonely man with poor social skills. That was, quite literally, the reason why he opened the bar in the first place, he confessed. As a child, he couldn't really talk to people because he was always nervous, and he wanted to create a place where others could converse and gather. I think he was happy that someone tried to hold a conversation with him despite his reserved appearance. So next time you go to a bar, talk to that surly bar tender. He may just need a friend!

December 30th

Anyway, the next day was a complete wash-out -- it rained ALL DAY. Since there's not much except for shopping during the day in Osaka, I decided I may as well spend the rainy day in Kobe. I caught an early afternoon train to Kobe, which is only about 30 minutes from Osaka. Regrettably, I couldn't really see much of the city, but it seems like a beautiful place.


Kobe is famous for sake, among other things. There are several breweries in an area of Kobe that have been making sake for generations, and most of them offer tours and free sake tastings. I decided "Why not? That's what trains are for!" I went to Kikomasamune, a brewery that has a small museum displaying the items that they use to make sake, and a really helpful English video explaining the process. The method used by Kikomasamune today is the same as it was a long time ago, with the exception of a few more machines. The biggest point, from what I understood, is that they even let the rice create it's own lactic acid, as opposed to introducing foreign lactic acid. Consequently, it takes a lot longer for the sake to be done (about 20-something days for one batch), but the results are worth it. The free sake had a really delicious, clean taste, and I ended up buying Umeshu, which is an alcoholic spirit made from plums. It's sweeter than sake, and I personally like it better.

December 31st

 On the day of the 31st, I went to Sumiyoshi Shrine in the early morning. "Great, another shrine," you may think to yourself with waning enthusiasm. "What's so special about it?" you ask. Don't knock it, I tell you. What distinguishes Sumiyoshi Shrine from the rest is its age: estimates date it back to around 200 A.D.  As it predates the influx of Chinese culture into Japan, it can be said that Sumiyoshi shrine is an authentically Japanese shrine, its architecture untouched by the influence of the mainland. If you go to any other shrines, and then see Sumiyoshi, you can understand.  There are six or so individual shrines on the complex, neatly side-by-side. In particular, the crossed beams are of interest. The tapered tips of most of the buildings indicate the shrine of a male deity, while the horizontal cut of one set of beams indicates the shrine of the only female deity at Sumiyoshi.

There are also three bridges that lead to the entrance of the shrine grounds, round in shape, which is also rare. It's said that you cross the central bridge for good luck.



But back to the story. It just so happens that as I got near the shrine, I couldn't find the entrance. A nice woman with a cute baby hanging in a sling from her front immediately offered help, and we walked around the shrine together. It turned out that her father was the head priest of the shrine, and that it had been in her family for generations! Completely unexpected and welcome surprise, convincing me that for the most part, Osaka people are great.

After the shrine, I returned to my hostel where an old college friend of mine from Osaka came to pick me up. I took him around in the States when he was studying English, so he was my tour-guide for the afternoon! We drove to Arashiyama in Kyoto (about 40 minutes from Osaka). Arashiyama ("Storm Mountain") is a beautiful area of Kyoto. There are still some shrines, but they're more natural, slightly removed from the more touristy albeit stunning shrines. As we descended from the car, he turned to me with a serious expression and said, "Today, we're going to eat a lot." I was confused, but he made sure of his promise. While we walked through the forested area, he proceeded to stop me every 15 minutes or so to eat at some randomly placed stall or restaurant, and thus we ate many small, delicious foods...

Arashiyama - the Bamboo Forest

Hot Tofu...
  




Zenzai: a hot, sweet red-bean soup with pieces of mochi (a sweet, soft, sticky ball made from rice flour).





Beef Croquettes (Somehow, they're crispier here...)

My friend Ryuto, posing with the croquettes and his man-purse

Kushikatsu: Literally "stick fry." Osaka is pretty famous for this food as well. There is no documented evidence, since it was consumed too quickly.

As if that weren't enough, as we drove back into Osaka, it struck him that we hadn't eaten Takoyaki, an Osaka staple. Before I knew it, were were parked on a side street just off of a main Osaka thoroughfare, eating mouth-scorching doughy balls filled with octopus in his car.

Nighttime drive through Osaka

Had it not been New Year's I would have been ready to throw in the towel and call it a successful day. However, the adventure was not over yet! After being dropped off, I met up with my OTHER awesome college friend. We went to a bar to drink for a while and catch up. The bar, called Lapichu, is co-run by a Japanese man and his Colombian employee. The atmosphere is really fun, and they serve pretty much anything, as well as hookah. My friend and I had planned to catch a train to Tennoji Temple (where my other friends were meeting) for the countdown, but we were so absorbed in talking that we almost missed the 11:30 train! By some miracle, we made it. However, the temple was crowded with people coming to pray before the new year. In looking for my friends, we lost track of time (again!) and barely caught the last 5 minutes of the countdown.

Tennoji Temple

Tennoji with my friend Satoshi

I then proceeded to wait in line for an hour with my friends to ring the bell. In Japan, it's tradition to ring a shrine bell at new years for luck. It was freezing, below 0 degrees celcius, but we somehow managed to stay alive by playing Shiritori, a Japanese word game where the next word begins with the last syllable of the previous word. Just don't use a word that ends in "n," because then you lose!

NEW YEAR'S DAY

On New Year's day, my friends were dead tired. So, like the travel trooper my mother raised me to be, I set off on my own for Sumiyoshi Shrine once again. THAT again! Yes, that same shrine. Why? Hatsumode. Hatsumode is another New Year's Tradition in Japan. From around January 1 to January 6, people visit shrines to pray for luck and whatnot in the new year. The previous day, I saw what seemed suspiciously like booths being prepared. I was completely unprepared for the mass of people that came to Sumiyoshi, slowly trudging through the crowds to cross the lucky bridge and toss 5 yen coins into the prayer box (5 is supposedly lucky because it's got a hole in the center, representing eternity and continuity, etc.)

Over the Bridge

Omikuji - tied to a fence to dispel the bad luck foretold by the fortune

It's the Year of the Snake! Wishes written and tied on wooden plaques

Goldfish Scooping! A traditional Japanese game for festivals

Dragon Dance outside the shrine gates

The morning was cold and crisp, and the sunshine was glinting off of the red-orange Tori gates. On the small road leading up to the bridges in front of the shrine, maybe a hundred vendors had set up booths, selling games, stuffed animals, but mostly FOOD. I grabbed my breakfast there -- an interesting "Chinese style" okonomiyaki (at least according to the vendor) and a hot cream Tayaki (a sweet bread in the shape of a fish, traditionally filled with sweet red-bean paste, but now also with chocolate, cream and caramel).

Vendor street food!

Breakfast I: mini-"Chinese" Okonomiyaki

 

 

 

 

 

 

Breakfast II: Cream-filled Taiyaki - perfect on a cold day!

 

Sea-shells, anyone?

Somehow, I was able to call my sister and tell her that the world hadn't ended in the future, although that transmission was short-lived due to the crappy application I was using. After a nice lunch with a Korean girl and a Japanese girl who I met at the hostel, I took a nap and rearranged my things, then set off for the airport in the evening. I had an early flight the next morning, and since my airline had a strict early policy, the owner of the guest house suggested that I sleep at the Manga Cafe in the airport (In Japan, "comic book" cafes offer lockable cubicles and rooms with couches that you can rent by the hour. If you're ever traveling and find yourself without a hotel in the middle of the night, a "Manga Kisa" is your best bet!)

DISCLAIMER: No pictures for the rest, since I was too exhausted to take them from this point in the story.

My flight was in a different terminal, which was in a completely different building than the cafe. While I intended to go back to the manga cafe after checking out my terminal and eating, I was so tired that I didn't feel like catching the bus back. I settled near some of the other waiting passengers, and tried to sleep in the terminal like them...with the music blasting from the cafe behind us. I arrived at around 9 pm, and my flight the next day was at 7 am... needless to say I passed out as soon as the plane took off! Best hour of my life -__-

January 2nd

The plane landed in Fukuoka, where I had to wait get my reimbursement for the ill-fated flight to Tokyo. About to die from sleep deprivation, I  managed to drag myself and my luggage to the Shinkansen and train back to Kumamoto city, where I caught the bus to Amakusa. My amazing supervisor from the board of education picked me up at the station and drove me home. Total travel time? Let me not even mention it, since it makes me sad.

All in all, my trip to Osaka was an amazing experience. I saw so many things that I hadn't thought to see, and the coolest part was seeing the things I had studied in school up close. There are no words to describe the value of personal experience over textbook/second-hand learning. That's why I encourage you to go anywhere you've had even a remote interest about.  I promise, even if it falls short of your expectations, you're bound to experience something incredible along the way!