My trip part 5

Here is the fifth and final part of my adventures. Thanks for your patience. After this, I'll post some pictures and return to my normal picture-based blogging. I have tons of pictures to show and tons to say.

Again, this is part five of five. I recommend you read them in order.

Anyways, here is part five:

My last full day in town started off quite slow. Everyone had to work in the morning, so I got a chance to just relax and catch up on my writing. I tried and failed to get my laptop working on their wireless network, but it wasn’t such a big deal, and actually I found the lack of internet to be strangely soothing and allowed me to focus as there was nothing else I could have been doing. Things got off to quite a lazy start, and I was enjoying my peaceful time.

After a while the mother came up and asked me if I wanted to have lunch while I waited for the sister to return from work. She prepared some delicious curry using leftover beef that we didn’t end up cooking the night before. Curry has been a staple food since I moved to Japan, so having homemade curry with Yonezawa beef was quite a treat. Another treat was the mother, working at a school, gave me a big stack of Japanese learning books for kids. They were all promotional books, so there was no problem giving them away. I feel a bit silly with the Astro Boy teaches Kanji books, but I think it’s the best ay to learn.

The sister came home from work and before anyone was really given a chance to relax, we were loading up the car with ski equipment. For the record, I have a very love/hate relationship with skiing. I really do enjoy skiing and when I was younger, I was fairly good at it and I started skiing at a very young age. The problem with skiing is I own no equipment, no ski pants, no ski jacket, and it’s very time consuming and costly to ski, and for the first little while, if you haven’t skied in a good while, you aren’t very good. It didn’t seem like I had a choice in the matter, but that was fine.

We drove a couple hours into the mountains, passing by some lovely country side and beautiful scenery. The father was driving and seemed to be enjoying himself once we got on the windy mountain roads. The scenery very much reminded me of the mountains of North Carolina, with similar foliage and roads, however the occasional building here and there clearly reminded me of where I was.

When we arrived, we unpacked and the father didn’t feel like skiing, because apparently his back was hurting from the drive. The mother, sister, and I got geared up. I got introduced to a relative who was a ski coach at the mountain. Nobody had proper gear that I would fit into besides gloves, so we went to a nearby rental shop. The owner looked like she was a rocker in the 80’s that never grew up, but was really quite sweet and endearing. There were a few other people there and she was very busy, but even so, was very personable. While we were trying on boots, she took a moment to tell us her son was a professional snowboarder and was currently in Canada for the winter. She didn’t know much English, but she knew enough to conduct business. There was a Korean couple there and the man spoke English, but not Japanese and there weren’t really any problems.

I ended up needing to rent a jacket and ski pants, things that I don’t really think of these as ‘rentable’, but it seemed to be a regular thing here. The selection seemed to be mostly smaller sizes than me, and I ended up with a really bright yellow suit. It fit just fine, but looked a little tacky, which didn’t bother me at first, but then I remembered that girl snowboarders are really hot. Just holding a snowboard increases a girl’s attractiveness by 10%. I wasn’t looking for a date, so it didn’t really matter that much, but it was a shade embarrassing.

What was more embarrassing was my skiing ability. Several years of not skiing can really change your ability. Also, there are muscles used in skiing that I just don’t use that often anymore. Even from the beginning it was clear that I was far from where I used to be in terms of ability. I’m sure if I had a week or so in a ski resort, I could capture and even surpass where I used to be, but an afternoon of skiing was not going to do it. Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time skiing, but it was unbelievably painful.

The skiing system in Japan is quite different than what I’m used to. In America, you buy a ticket and ski for a day and that’s it. In Japan, or at least at Mount Zao, it worked more like Suica or any other train pass, where you pay per lift. With some thought, it seems much fairer, as if you ski for 3 hours, you only pay for those lifts, but if you ski all day, you pay a lot more. You also use sensor cards at gates and don’t touch anything. Most people it seemed had pockets for these cards in their sleeves or shoulders, but mine didn’t so I had to push my chest near the sensor in order to go through, because it was in my front breast pocket. I noticed I wasn’t the only person doing that, and the sensors seemed to be really sensitive, so even that worked.

The first gondola took us up to the top and there was a cute little European looking restaurant and hotel built at the top of the mountain. We skied over to another lift and proceeded up it. Out of the hotel was yodeling coming from a speaker, which is something that I had never experienced in my days of skiing. We skied some relatively easy slopes, obviously seeming like we had a destination a bit away. Going up another ski lift, there was music coming out of speakers on every pole.

After a bit of skiing, I was still enjoying myself, but I was happy to take a bit of a rest. We got on a gondola that went up the mountain, and out the window you could see piles of snow built up around wind swept trees. These were referred to me as “Snow Monsters” which at first made me chuckle, but when they were repeatedly referred to this way I got questioning if it was a translation issue. Turns out, that’s what they call those piles of snow around trees in Mount Zao, and not just the quirkiness of my company.

At the top of this gondola, there was a sightseeing place on the roof and it was quite spectacular. Hundreds of these ‘snow monsters’ dotted the landscape and there was an amazing view from all sides. Apparently, people who aren’t skiing can come up there and just take a look around. I could clearly see why someone would want to do that. Outside the gondola building there was a giant statue. It was something I’d seen before and was described to me as “Buddha’s child”. It was enormous, but because of the snow, we could only see the head, which was pretty surreal.

After this nice sightseeing, there was a truly painful descent down a gorgeous mountain. It wasn’t so bad in the end, but I seemed to be the only one suffering, which made it worse, but it was still fun. The sister wanted to go some more, but I was actually feeling like I was done. When we went to return the skis and jacket, the same woman treated us to some wonderful tea and hand made cookies, which were fabulous. The level of service she offered was way more than I had expected from a rental place. When we returned to the car, there was a sumo match on the in-dash TV. The TV can only work when the car is in park, so we sat there watching the end of this match for about twenty minutes. It was really fascinating, so I was quite fine watching, even though in concept, it was a little strange.

After skiing, we went out to sushi. It was a moderately empty ‘kaiten’ or conveyer belt sushi restaurant. These are nice, as I don’t have to order based on name, as this limits me to only getting what I already know, and instead I can just grab what I want based on looks. I sat next to the father and he encouraged me to try some of his personal favorites. I tried lots of different things, but there were two surprises, one was the intestines of some fish which was white and flakey and reminded me more of chicken than fish, but had a unique texture and flavor. The other surprise was raw Yonezawa beef sushi, which was just a slice of raw meat on a ball of rice. This was only the second time I’ve had raw beef, and while I enjoyed it the first time, a lifetime of being told to fear raw beef doesn’t rub off easy. I ate it anyways, and it was really delicious. For anyone who’s never had raw beef, it does not resemble its cooked counterpart in flavor or texture. It’s good but it is a very different type of good.

We all returned home where there was some more drinking and some more games. Not a whole lot as I had to get on a train early in the morning, but it was quite a lot of fun, as always. I beat the father at a round of Othello, but it was not easy. Even so, I think he might have let me win.

I had to get on an early train, so in the morning I woke up and didn’t have time to do much besides leave. They gave me plenty of snacks and food along with a bottle of their homemade plum wine. I said goodbye to the mother and the father drove me to the train station with the sister. It seemed we were running late, so he drove much faster than I thought a Prius could. He even blatantly ran a red light or two to get me there on time, which I think was half out of concern for missing the train and half out of fun, as we still got there about ten minutes early.

The sister and then the father waved goodbye and I thanked them the best that I could in English and Japanese, but I’m not sure it was enough. These people who I had a loose connection with treated me really well. Way better than I have had by people who don’t really know me and way better than I deserved. This was an amazing family, and they were all very thoughtful and caring. I was grateful in ways I couldn’t quite express. It was truly a life changing experience.

The ride back to Tokyo was quite the opposite from the first time. The weather was absolutely wonderful, and the views were amazing. However, I did not have a reserved seat, so I ended up in the unreserved section which was completely full and I had to stand the entire time. It was quite annoying, and I’m sure I looked silly while I was taking pictures out the window, but people didn’t mind. Upon entering the train, there was a group of young kids, mostly girls, headed for Tokyo Disneyland. It was clear that I was the topic of many snickers, giggles, and conversation. They were staring and I would smile back at them which would cause an eruption of laughter.

I made it just a few minutes late to my tutoring session, and then after that I went home and completely collapsed. It was a long trip, but a lot of fun. I was happy to be back in Tokyo, but seeing small town life was way more interesting than I had expected. I had an amazing time, and hopefully I will return there soon.

My trip part 4

It's been a while, but here is part 4. I hope to be doing updates more frequently, as the semester is over and I have LOTS to say. If you haven't read parts 1-3, go ahead and check those out. Like I said before, I'll be posting pictures once I've finished.

So, what was this area all about?

I was about to see.

After weighing our options, the sister and I decided to first go to a winery. Living in Northern California in the heart of wine country, I’ve been to quite a few in the past, so I knew what to expect. One thing that was odd from the beginning is the sister was telling me she couldn’t drink ANY wine while driving. As respectable as this notion was, it was also a bit strange, as I can’t recall a single event of wine tasting where the driver didn’t take a single taste. While I’m not sure about the liquor laws in Japan, I know that America has a legal limit and anything below that is quite alright. For almost anybody, a single taste of wine would not put them over the limit. I’m assuming the laws are a bit stricter here, which is probably for the best.

It was raining slightly and it was cold enough for any slight drizzle to be obnoxious. There was a nice garden out front, but based on the temperature, it wasn’t worth exploring, so we went inside. I didn’t notice at the time, but it seemed we went in the exit, which wasn’t a big deal. Upon entrance, I was a bit surprised how much like a large American winery this was. There was a room where they were selling snacks, cakes, and fancy dips. Past that was the tasting area. In theory we were supposed to see that on the way out, not the way in, but it didn’t matter so much. The longer I looked, the more I realized how different it was, as what were normally fancy crackers and chocolates was replaced with dried fish snacks and a variety of pastries. The most horrendous and sad part of it all is that the wine shop was missing cheese. I’m quite aware that good cheese a scarce commodity here in Japan, but I figured if there was one place to get fine cheeses would be in a winery.

When we went to the tasting section, it was not what I was expecting. We were given small glasses and allowed to go around tasting any of the wines we desired. These were not wine glasses by any account, more resembling shot glasses, but smaller. Most of the wine was available in bottles but a few types came in wooden jugs with taps. I’m used to people serving me wine, and for a few types there was someone eagerly serving, but most were self service.

The wines ranged from pretty good to really terrible. They were generally quite sweet, and on some it was nice, but on others it was just too much. The pear wine and one of their champagnes I found to be quite good, and a few others were decent but still seemed far behind the quality I’m used to in America. Then again, I know Japanese people like sweeter wines than Americans and Europeans, so while it might not been my cup of tea, they seemed to be doing their fair share of business for a rainy Thursday.

After the tasting, we went on to view their mini tour of the production facilities. This was a sharp contrast from the American wineries I’ve seen. In America, they love to show off the oak barrels for aging and the process of production and how it relates to history. Wines aged in steel barrels are usually not shown, or at most briefly displayed as an alternate method from the traditional barrels. American wineries pride themselves on quality and tradition. On the other hand, this winery proudly displayed their steel barrels and modern mechanized production process, a step that Americans prefer not to talk about. The focus was obviously on technology, not tradition.

The sister got a chance to taste some gourmet non-alcoholic fruit juices and snacks while I was doing the drinking. As we were leaving, after purchasing a few bottles, we stopped by a miniature ice cream stand on the way out that was selling winery made ice cream. There was wine flavored ice cream, made with real wine and my memory is foggy, but I believe it either said 1% or .1% alcohol in the ice cream. The sister and the girl behind the counter both said it was a bad idea to eat it if you were planning on driving. They were so strong on this point that they both thought even tasting it was a bad idea. While I truly admire their discipline, even at 1%, it would take 5 times as much ice cream to equal one beer, and the volume was a normal cone, so, and I’m being quite generous, the volume of a standard can of beer. While I think the sign said .1% not 1%, I’ll be even more lax and assume eating the cone was comparable to drinking 1/5 of a beer. While maybe the lightest of drinkers may be affected by that, I can’t possibly imagine anyone who could be affected by even a taste. But, as the signs seemed to indicate, the question asked and the answer given about not even allowing a taste to the driver were common, so this wasn’t the first time it had been asked. With some pondering, it made me realized how much better this solution is, and while alcohol flows like water quite often in this country, I’m very glad that drinking and driving is taken extremely seriously and the thought of ‘okay to drive’ isn’t considered.

The next point of interest was a bit of a bust, yet also another learning experience. Much like in America, there were rest stops along the highways. One thing I’m finding is Japan has very unique town cultures and every town, no matter how big or small, seems to be famous for something. We stopped at a rest stop in an area apparently famous for their traditional textile manufacturing techniques. The building which we stopped was pretty typical, with a convenience store that sold fruit, a generic restaurant, and gift shops highlighting local food and culture. One interesting section that was pointed out to me was a collection of wooden toys which to my understanding were locally made, and the brand was quite famous across Japan. There was a newspaper clipping that showed the emperor’s children playing with these wooden toys.

The sister, still being my tour guide, was actually quite disappointed, as this building used to contain a section where they were weaving fabrics by hand and explained a bit about the process. Instead of this, there was a big empty room, which was a tad depressing, but it was a nice stop anyways. I could tell she was more disappointed than I was, which makes sense, because I didn’t really mind so much and she wanted to show off something interesting that wasn’t there anymore.

After the rest stop, we decided to see some traditional points of interest. On our way, we drove by a small train station, and the sister wanted to show me something special. The station itself was quite unremarkable, as it was a bland building and some tracks. Outside, however, there was a quite large, possibly seven feet or so, bust of Ultraman. I couldn’t quite understand why, but it was an odd site and worth driving by to look at. Of course, I took a picture.

We headed to Nanyo City, where the first stopping point was this large shrine which was the most famous in the area. To get there, we had to climb a large set of stairs, as this had been built on the top of a mountain. At the top of the mountain was a large bell, which apparently dates back to 1626 and was one of the few spared when the Japanese government needed more metal for World War II. From what I was told, they still ring it from time to time.

The main shrine itself was quite massive and elegant. There were plenty of hand carved decorations and a thick thatched roof. The roof alone reminded me of some buildings I have seen in England, while the rest was purely Japanese. There was some signage in English which helped me learn a little about the temple. It was built some time in the 16^th century, and it was one of the few still surviving in the area. I’m sure if this same building was in Tokyo or Kyoto, there would be mobs of tourists. However, there were very few people, which was nice but also a bit sad. There were several smaller buildings around the main one, and I wanted to take a closer look, but as there was so much snow, it was a bit awkward to get there.

At the bottom of the hill, there was a giant Ginkgo tree. It seemed like people were unsure how old the tree was, but it was thought that the tree was planted at the end of the Gosannen no Eki war, which ended in 1087. If that was true or not, one thing was for sure, this was an old tree.

We went driving, and I kept hearing these vans driving around. They all had megaphones on the top and were shouting, while inside people wearing white gloves were smiling and waving to everyone. It turns out that there was an election coming up real soon, and they were trying to gain some political support. I found it more obnoxious than anything else, but I’m neither Japanese nor a resident of the area, so my opinion didn’t really matter to them.

We drove for a bit, and enjoyed some fun and interesting conversation and I really liked seeing the scenery around. The sister showed me this gorgeous pagoda in quite an empty area. It was amazingly striking, and seemed kind of in the middle of nowhere, which added to the drama. I couldn’t read the sign, as it was all in Japanese with lots of kanji, however I could read, and was explained that it was originally built in 860. Not 1860, mind you, but 860. From what I gathered, it was previously destroyed and rebuilt, but the original date of construction was 860, which is quite impressive. It was built with all interlocking wooden pieces and supposedly no nails were originally used. It was clear that there were nails in the handrail around it, however I couldn’t see any in the building itself.

There was another small building behind it which looked quite dilapidated and a sign with a digital reproduction of that building looking much nicer. It seemed like that building was just about to undergo renovation, so future generations could see it too. While its current state was a tad depressing, the knowledge it was coming back was quite welcome. There were a few other sites around, but the obvious important part was the building that was soon to be rebuilt and the pagoda.

We headed on back and on the way were instructed to pick up some ingredients for dinner. One such ingredient was beef, but not just any beef. Yonezawa is well known for having some of, if not the best beef in Japan. I actually had heard this before, but had long since forgotten about it. Everyone knows about Kobe beef, but apparently foodies enjoy Yonezawa or Matsuzaka beef better, and most people seem to agree that Yonezawa is the best. The mother wanted to cook sukiyaki, and I certainly found that a pleasant choice, as I absolutely love that dish. We picked up the Yonezawa beef, and then returned home.

It seemed everyone was still a bit full from lunch, but the father and I snacked and drank while the sister and mother ended up cooking. I helped out a little, but as I’m quite useless in the kitchen and most of the work was already done, I didn’t have much to offer. When the diner came, it was fantastic. The sukiyaki was quite flavorful and robust; just what I wanted on a cold winter night. The beef was quite good, but while I liked it, I wasn’t totally blown away. Then again, it was an ingredient in a very flavorful dish, not a stand-alone testament to the quality of the meat. Maybe next time, I’ll try Yonezawa beef grilled alone, or in shabu-shabu form. Something so I can get a flavor of just the meat.

As the night and the drinks poured on, the mother ended up breaking out her jug of homemade plum wine. I may not be a plum wine expert, but this was good stuff, quite easily what I would consider to be the best I’ve ever had. We were getting more comfortable with each other’s company and after a nice meal, the father, mother and I decided to retire to the kotatsu room and play some hanafuda. The problem was I didn’t know how to play and they didn’t know English.

When asked about hanafuda, I let out a bit of an overenthusiastic “Aaaah!” at the idea of playing. I didn’t know the game at all, but I recalled learning that Nintendo got their start by selling hanafuda cards back in the late 1800’s. I had no idea what I was doing, but the game was quite simple to understand and after 2 rounds, I pretty much had it figured out, even though it wasn’t explained to me using words. I can’t speak for the father and mother, but I had a very enjoyable time playing it. After several rounds of that, the father challenged me to a game of Othello. It seemed like something he really enjoyed playing and while I liked it too, I hadn’t played in years and I was no good then, so I got my ass thoroughly kicked. It was quite fun, and added a lovely end to a very long and wonderful day. After that, it was time for bed.

But the next day, there was something said about a ski trip?

Sorry guys...

Sorry everybody.


Now that it's nearing the end of the semester and the beginning of great weather, I've been absurdly busy. I haven't had time to finish the story of my trip or post about the many, many things that has happened since then.

Anyways, in a few weeks, I'll be done with school for a month. I should have time to catch up, but until then, be patient. Thanks for reading!


(picture taken of a sign that I see on my way to my tutoring classes)

My trip part 3

Here is part 3 of my trip. When I'm done with the essay, pictures will follow.

The next morning, I woke up bright and early to the sound of a dog scratching at my door. While I could think of more pleasant ways to rise, I can certainly think of worse ways too. I joined the family as they were discussing what to eat. They decided on natto, a fermented soy bean dish known for being unpopular with foreigners, combined with mochi, a doughy substance made from rice that I’d only eaten sweetened as a dessert. While I honestly enjoy natto now, I wasn’t quite sure how it would mix with sweet mochi. I was aware that not all mochi was sweet, but I couldn’t picture it, so I was anxious but nervous to try. The night before, there had been some confusion about bathing, as I said I was used to showers in the morning and this got mangled into “I don’t want to take a shower at night”, so the mother told me that she was making fresh mochi which would take a while, so now was the time to get clean. She pulled out a mochi maker, which was also surprisingly a bread maker.

I was told the bath was warm and ready for me, with bath salts added in to make it a more pleasant experience. Bathing in Japan is totally different than America. In Japan, you shower before you bathe, and in the tub you just soak. You do not, by any means, go in the tub dirty, and it is not strange at all to have an entire family use the same bath water. There is a shower right next to a tub and they had a plastic device that rolled over the tub to prevent water, soap, and any dirt from getting in before they bathed. Thankfully I knew enough about Japanese faux pas to not dive right in.

For the second time in my life, I was in a bathroom and unsure about how I’m supposed to clean myself off. There were two different sets of nozzles, one obviously just for the bathtub and one for a showerhead and water spigot. The showerhead had a total of three knobs. One seemed to be for the temperature, but the other two I wasn’t sure of. There was a small metal knob on the left and another knob with Japanese characters that I didn’t recognize in the center. The center knob seemed to be fixed in position, so I turned the left knob and water came shooting out, like it was a pressure relief valve or something. Sitting naked in a cold room not knowing how to do anything is a bit of a humiliating experience, but I didn’t know what to do. Out of desperation, I tried the center knob and it moved, producing the desired result. The problem was it just required more force then I had expected.

After showering, I got in the very delightful warm tub, enjoying myself very much. I heard a clacking sound coming from somewhere in the house. I dried myself off and after some insistence from the sister, blow dried my hair. The clacking I heard as I approached the kitchen was a visiting monk who was either blessing the house or warding away bad spirits, I’m not sure. I was really anxious to see what I was doing, but as I’m not Buddhist, nor do I have a good understanding of Buddhism, I felt like I would be intruding.

The family really wanted to get a picture of me next to the monk, which I happily but awkwardly obliged. The monk was an older man, quite rough around the edges, wearing some very dramatic ceremonial garments. He sat down on the family’s pillow next to the family altar and I sat next to him for a picture. I didn’t know what to do, so the family using their camera and mine, we got some pictures of me with my hands behind my back and a big goofy smile.

After the picture, we all sat together at the kotatsu with the sunken floor below it. I watched as the monk was discreetly paid by taking an envelope placed on the table before his arrival. We drank some tea, and I heard about how he was the head of the local temple and had been for quite some time. The family explained that I went to an American school in Tokyo and the confusion of the name “Temple University” was repeated. I was used to this by now, but adding a head monk into the process kind of made it a bit awkward.

The monk left and the family told me part of the awkwardness is they think that he was losing his hearing. Shortly afterwards, several people arrived, some were relatives and some were friends. I didn’t quite get all the relationships figured out, but it was like meeting anyone else’s aunts and uncles in America. They were all significantly older than me, yet warm and accepting. It is customary to give gifts upon arriving at someone’s home, so when I arrived, I gave the family a gift of “Tokyo Bananas”, a treat that somehow became synonymous with visiting the city and a bag of handmade candy from my new favorite candy shop in Nakano. When these people arrived, box after box of miscellaneous treats were piling up. It was pretty unbelievable exactly how much stuff arrived.

One of the relatives was a teacher in the art of the tea ceremony. She brought us this really thick green tea and instructed me to hold it at head level with the palm of my left hand, turn it twice towards me with my right hand take a small bow and sip. This was so we could admire the tea bowl’s lovely design, and apparently the bowl is the proper way to serve it. I found the tea to be really good, and I was eager for seconds, which seems to have been a bit of a surprise, as most people seem to find the taste a little bitter. Apparently, I was told, that snacks are as equally important to the tea ceremony as tea was. After a few bowls of tea, I got to see how it was made, which was ridiculously simple. There was this special type of powder you put into a bowl, and with a special bamboo whisk, you stirred it and that’s all. It came out really foamy and creamy.

Shortly after the tea, we went out to lunch. We drove up to this fairly tiny restaurant and took our shoes off and entered a small room. There were trays already made up and ready for us and we just had to sit down and eat. It was a bit odd to just sit down and start eating with no ordering or waiting. This was, without a question, the most elaborate Japanese lunch I’d ever had. There were several small dishes with pickled radishes, a type of light Japanese kimchi, some sprouts, a slice of what I assume was a piece of very expensive melon, and large dishes of sashimi (slices of raw fish) and tempura. There was also a bowl of miso soup, a bowl of rice and this container of something that looked like pudding but was fish based. I’m not sure what it was, but I had the same pudding-like dish in an izakaya and I hated it, but at this place it was much better, and I actually enjoyed it. Next to all these elaborate dishes, there was this type of fish and rice dish. When we sat down, we lit a fire beneath the dish and near the end, it was fully cooked and really hot, but delicious.

Even before I sat down for that massive spread, I was still full from an overwhelming breakfast. Even before breakfast began, I was not at all hungry from the massive dinner a night before. As if lunch wasn’t enough, when I was finished, people wanted to give me more tempura or whatever they had left. To avoid being rude, I tried to say no, but after the second offering, I said yes and just gorged myself. Throughout the meal, I was getting really thirsty. I drink a lot of liquids with my meal in general, even for an American, and often times in Japan you get very little to drink or nothing at all. At the end of the meal, they offered more tea, which I anxiously took. Without thinking I took a sip and burned the hell out of my tongue. While I was in terrible pain, nobody else seemed to mind.

As awkwardly quick as the meal had started, it ended just as abruptly as it began. We all got up and left in what seemed to be a rush. We climbed into our cars and drove to another parking lot across the street. It seems that some of the people we were with had tickets to a play by a troupe visiting from Tokyo. After they left, we all went back to the family home and me and the sister were going to explore what this area was all about.

So, what was this area all about?

My trip part 2

Part 1, 2, and half of part 3 were written when I was away. School is kicking into high gear, so the other parts and pictures might come a bit slower, but I assure you they are coming. So, without further adieus, here is part 2:

Since moving to Japan, I have spent my entire time somewhere in the metropolitan area of Tokyo. The closest I got to escaping this city was Kamakura and an afternoon in Takao. While Kamakura was quite lovely and interesting, it was filled with tourists and sightseers from Japan and abroad. Takao certainly didn’t have tourists except for those changing trains to go to Mt. Takao, but it would be difficult to describe it a as anything but a picturesque suburb of Tokyo. While this was fun and all, spending all my time in a small portion of this country was not what I wanted to do.

One of my best friends in America is Japanese. She has two sisters and two parents. I have met both of her sisters in Tokyo, and much like my friend, they were quite delightful. One of them lives in the city and doesn’t speak much English. The other sister lives with her parents, something not uncommon in Japan. Upon meeting this sister, she invited me to spend time with her parents in her hometown. As I had a four day weekend approaching, I was invited up on Wednesday night to spend Thursday and Friday relaxing and enjoying the sights and sounds of small town Japan.

And what a small town it is. After getting off the train, we drove through the tiny city and on towards a liquor store. The whole place reminded me of a tiny East coast town that had been there for a long time, but never became a big place. It was cute and charming, but also a shade run down and old fashioned. Unlike Tokyo, here the car was the desired, and often times only, mode of transportation. Shops were almost indistinguishable from those in America, as they had parking lots and were obviously built with cars in mind, unlike those in Tokyo which are shoved where ever they can fit them.

On the ride to the parent’s house, the sister informs me that we would be eating dinner the mother has prepared. After asking if I can eat Japanese food, a question I get often, I say “Sure. Anything but raw squid”, as raw squid is still probably the worst thing I’ve ever eaten. After saying that there was a long pause, and I knew it… Fuck. We’re having raw squid. My imagined nightmare of being invited to a Japanese home where I was served a traditional, delicate, and expensive Japanese meal that was comprised of things that I would never in my life imagine eating was coming true. I envisioned a plate full of all manners of things yanked out the ocean staring at me with their cold, dead eyes and some gracious host was insisting that these were the tastiest parts. Of course, in such a situation I would swallow my squeamishness right before I swallowed my eyeball.

On the morning of my departure I packed what I thought would be enough then took off. I realized that I forgot to pack a sweater, and while Tokyo was becoming quite warm, I was told that my destination wasn’t. Conveniently, the liquor store we were headed to was next to Uniqulo, a cheap yet trendy clothing chain in Japan. I stopped in and picked up a track jacket, one which I’m sure will serve me well in the future.

The liquor store was stopped at was absolutely massive. I would compare it to a large Beverages and More in America, but after seeing nothing but tiny, crammed shops in Tokyo, it seemed astoundingly large. Their selection was quite nice too with decent American wines, a Canadian beer that was a favorite of the sister, and to my surprise, Tim’s Salt and Vinegar Potato chips. In America, I would sometimes buy these and eat them with a nice deli sandwich, but finding kettle-style potato chips in Japan was tough, not to mention a brand that I was quite fond of in salt and vinegar flavor. They were only 400 yen, which is about $4. Considering that in the US, they cost $3-$3.50, this was a great price.

We left the store and headed off to what only can be described as the country. Views of shopping centers and houses were replaced with snow covered rice paddies. After a bit of driving, we were in a tiny town and quickly pulling into the driveway. The house was surprisingly not very foreign looking from the outside. It wouldn’t seem that out of place in America. I was warned that the family dog would be barking at me, but this didn’t seem to be the case as we pulled up. He was quietly and calmly waiting for my arrival.

The father and the mother, who I had already been warned they didn’t speak English, greeted us upon our arrival. The father had surgery a while back and can’t talk without an aid and when he does talk, which he did so by pushing something on his throat, it is quite rough and a bit shocking. Since his first words were kind and welcoming and I had been expecting this, it quickly stopped being something that was a bit frightening and became normal. The mother was full of smiles and was obviously eager to have us.

The house itself has obviously been a family home for quite some time. There were knickknacks hanging about, plenty of gorgeous flowers in the mud room, something the mother was obviously proud of, and the kitchen cabinets were full of all sorts of dishes, glasses, and other things. I was never given a ‘grand tour’ of the house, which is seemingly not something done in Japan. I was shown the bathroom, the shower room, and the kitchen, where we all sat down at the table.

To describe the kitchen as cluttered would be describing a bookshelf that was completely full of odd shaped books arranged in order based on category, not size, as cluttered. Everything in this kitchen had its place and the mother seemed to know instantaneously where things belonged. Everything wasn’t quite finished being prepared, so I was offered some beer and light snacks to go with it. The father graciously offered me some dried whole fish as he was chomping on one and clearly enjoying it. Having eaten these before and not being fond of them, I didn’t really want to join him, however he was anxious to share with me, so I was anxious to take one. The only thing that comes to mind when I think of the flavor is the smell of fish food. In truth, it wasn’t that bad, which I think is an indication of my changing tastes.

While we were waiting for the mother to finish, the sister and I helped by making gyoza (pot stickers). While the process was easy, all of mine were odd looking and mangled while the ones made by the sister were delicate and quite pretty. The father shared some delicious sake made of rice from his cousin’s farm. It was also clear that the father did not have to do the work.

The food was placed in front of us. For starters, a delicious appetizer of boiled cabbage with a peanut butter and soy sauce was presented. Then came the freshly made gyoza, which was very flavorful. The mother made a custom sauce which was simply soy sauce, lemon juice, and Chinese hot oil to taste, but way better than what I was used to with this quite common dish. At the same time, salad was served, with some type of shellfish and cherry tomatoes, which I wanted to avoid but a plate was made up for me. These tomatoes were obviously fresher than most I had eaten in the past, thus making them better, but I still did not go back for more. The shellfish was surprisingly good in the salad, if not a tad chewy. I ended up going back for more a few times, avoiding the tomatoes. In front of all this was what I would consider to be the main event, a plate of sashimi, or straight up raw fish. While pointing out what was on the plate, there sat my nemesis, the raw squid.

The drinks were flowing and I was very much enjoying myself, as was everyone else it seemed. Plans for the next day were discussed. While skiing was the initial plan, rain kind of put a damper on that. The next day was spring equinox, and according to them, a priest would visit the house in the morning and we would have lunch with some family friends. After that, the sister and I would head out to go sightseeing.

Drinks were flowing and everyone was having a great time. The father was anxious to pour sake for me and told me that my tiny glass was from an area known for having the best chinaware in Japan. I was ready to be brave and try some raw squid, giving it a second chance. When I went to go reach for it, it was all gone. Apparently, raw squid is the father’s favorite and he gobbled it up. I was both saddened and relieved to know that it was not the time for me to try this dish again.

The father retired to bed and the sister, the mother and I sat down in the tatami room for a rest. Tatami is a straw mat that covers the floor and we sat at a kotatsu, or heated coffee table like device. Unlike the kitchen, the tatami room was quite empty by comparison. Sitting down, I was surprised to find that while I sat on the ground, there was a large hole for everyone’s feet, and the heat came from below this. It was really nice and after some light conversation, we all headed for bed.

My trip part 1

Recently I took a trip over my long weekend. In the process I took a few hundred pictures (which I will post when I get the time), and I wrote a long essay about it. Here is part one:

Arriving in Tokyo station just in time to get cash, buy a ticket, and get on the train forced me to push my mixed feelings about this trip aside. Realizing that I had an aisle seat instead of the window turned my feelings towards something as trivial as a seat on a train. As I’d never been on a shinkansen, I was terribly excited. I remember as a young boy owning a book about different type of vehicles around the world. I very clearly remember reading about the “Bullet Trains” of Japan, and how they were, at the time, the fastest in the world. Just the phrase “Bullet Train” causes the eight year old imagination to go spinning. Add in that these trains are in the far off land of Japan, which at that time was about as close to being a place I would end up living as the moon, possibly less so in the mind of a young boy.

Since reading that book about these trains, the title of fastest train in the world has been moved to France, as they can be a little more liberal in their safety precautions because they don’t have to deal with pesky earthquakes. You can tell me that I’m not riding in the fastest passenger land vehicle in the world, but the child in me simply won’t listen. Because of this, sitting in a window seat is a bit more important than just having something to lean on when I get sleepy. At first, I was located in seat 4C. As nobody sat down in 4D (out of A-D), I quickly moved to my desired seat, using the passive-aggressive businessman technique of throwing my bag down next to me, hoping anyone desiring to sit there would be intimidated and would go somewhere else.

As the train pulled away from Tokyo station, feelings of excitement came equally as fast as the shinkansen had accelerated, which is quite fast. The grey buildings and concrete whizzed by underneath the grey, overcast sky, but it was sunny inside my utopian dream of my first “Bullet Train” ride. The first stop was Ueno station, which is fairly close to my departure point, so the short lived excitement was replaced by stares at people waiting to board, wondering who, if anybody, was supposed to have lucky 4D.

When the old lady came up to me two stops later, I was terribly relieved when she indicated her lack of desire to usurp me form my position. The only thing she wanted was to know if I would like her to put my bag up for me, as she found her newspaper far more interesting than what was outside the window. This is an appropriate response for anybody who’s taken this trip before. However, I was not in that position.

As the train accelerated, I was impressed at how smooth the ride was. Hardly any shakes or bumps like I get on my daily train rides or even the commuter rails around Boston, this shinkansen was the smoothest train that I could recall. It was fast too. Not as fast as the eight year old in me would like, but certainly faster than any other land-based vehicle I’d been on.

Tokyo stretches out for miles. Once I left Ueno and saw the familiar train that loops around Tokyo, the Yamanote line, turn left as I went straight, the glitz and glamour of the big city faded into bland apartment buildings and acre upon acre of houses. The amount of homes was truly mind boggling. There were town centers that were visible and some skyscrapers and giant apartments that humbled anything I’ve seen anywhere else, but most of the land was just houses with a few single or double story businesses scattered about and after a while, an occasional tiny farm.

One could notice after a while that the automobile was becoming much more of a viable transportation. Other train lines were less prevalent, establishments had parking lots, main roads and interstates were seen filled with traffic, and there were fewer small business centers based around stations and more massive malls. I have been to the giant shopping centers in Shinjuku and I’ve been to a mall outside of Atlanta reported to be the second largest mall in America***, but these buildings dwarfed it all. Sure, Shinjuku has these gigantic shopping centers humbled by amount of people and amount of shopping centers, and the plaza near Atlanta*** uses more land by a substantial amount than these monstrosities in the suburbs of Tokyo, but because they actually had the land at one point to build them instead of attempting to squeeze them into anywhere they had left, they built them as big as they could. They looked like fat, short skyscrapers of nothing but commerce. It’s as if someone took four city blocks, fused them together, and built a 30 story building there. That may be a slight exaggeration, but I believe I recall seeing one of them advertise 27 floors.

Around both the second and third stops, there were cities that came thrusting out of the endless houses. While the lights of Shinjuku or Shibuya are enough to truly be considered some of the most dramatic scenes in the world, these cities were nothing to scoff at. It seemed a bit perplexing that after miles of flat, boring suburbs, there were these incredible town centers, but I don’t know much about how towns are formed, so I am not a credible source for commenting.

While all this urban and suburban chaos was happening outside my window, on the inside of the train, businessmen slept and read books or papers, a family a few seats up and to the right a family enjoyed their Pokemon bento boxes, a Caucasian couple started off as excited as I was but quickly became bored, and two men directly behind me talked loudly about sports. Occasionally, a young woman would go up and down the aisle selling snacks, drinks, and the signature desserts of an area designed to be presented as gifts. There were two trains connected as one, which would veer off in different directions later on, and I was on the one towards the front. The announcer spoke much more politely than on normal trains around here, and with a soft, British accent. As stops were few and far between, they were able to have long winded speeches about how happy they are to have you aboard and where you were going. Also, the silence inside the train made the soft voice audible, as on a normal train, it would not have been heard.

A bit after the third stop and the generosity of an old woman who had no idea what she did, the fields of houses were spotted with just plain fields. Occasionaly a major highway and a few distribution centers could be seen, but it was no longer the infinite ‘concrete jungle’ that I have become used to. After the houses with some fields, it became fields with some lumps of houses, and eventually, just fields. As soon as I was ready to declare it the end of metropolitan Tokyo, the train would slow down and before coming to a stop, another city would pop up. While this was by no means Tokyo, these areas would give any medium-large city in America a run for their money. As we departed these stations, the town slowly began to fade back into fields.

After a while, we started to go through a few tunnels. Since I can only see out the sides of the window and not the front, I had no concept of what these were going through, but understanding that this train was going really fast and any curve at all would slow it down, the tunnels seemed logical. After one tunnel, the darkened cloudy grey sky had become noticeably darker. I have no idea why it got dark so quickly, but because I was intently focused on the world outside, I can say without a doubt, it happened quite suddenly.

The shinkansen stopped at the point in which the track split into two directions, taking each half of the train in a different direction. This was yet again another large town and it lead me to assume that the next stop and my final destination, Yonezawa, was going to be a fairly decent sized place. I also had found it curious that I hadn’t seen anybody get off, but realized that all the earlier departures were on the other train.

I could feel the train ascending up a mountain. Compared to earlier, the train felt sluggish, even though it was still quite fast. There were more tunnels and some of them were quite long, but most were fairly short. I noticed that the sides of the trains bowed out a little bit in these tunnels, most likely due to the difference in pressure at such great speeds. Much like the darkness came earlier in the day, after one fairly average and not too long tunnel, there was snow. It wasn’t like I rode through areas where there patches of snow or I saw mountains where there was snow on one side, or fields with snow in the shade, it was simply no snow-tunnel-snow.

The mountain views were amazing, if not a bit hard to see at night. Sometimes it looked like we were mere millimeters from the edge of a cliff, causing even the slightest shift in ground soil to lead us plummeting to our dooms and sometimes we were deep inside a mountain tunnel, but when we were above ground, the views were amazing. It was quite dramatic and I attempted to capture the moment with my camera, but didn’t quite get the ambiance, as the glare from the window was overwhelming.

Trains in Japan are so accurate that I would have almost bet my life that my train would arrive at 6:20, as that’s what my ticket stated. So, a few minutes before, I started getting ready to depart. I was half expecting a very large small town like I had seen before, but when the train was slowing down, it was clear I wasn’t getting that. Instead, I was greeted by a tiny station and the strangest clash between old world and new. There was a man taking tickets at the gate by hand and in front of him, a sensor for Suica, the automated ticket counter service which I use every day.

After I left the station gate, two things were painfully clear. First is that this was not Tokyo or anywhere that could even be considered on the outskirts of Tokyo. This was very much a small town in the middle of nowhere. If town centers are around the main transportation hub, which has always seemed to be the case in and around Tokyo, this place wasn’t even as big as my hometown of Auburn, Alabama, which is quite small. Even if the main ‘downtown’ was somewhere else, there was next to nothing near the station.

The second thing that became quite clear is that I was no longer one of the many Caucasian foreigners around. I instantly got stares of surprise and confusion. Although I am aware of how homogenous Japan is, as it is over 99% comprised of Japanese people and the majority of that 1% is made up of other Asians, I have become used to not fitting in, but not sticking out too much. I felt like I had a giant sign over me, but I didn’t at all feel like anyone was displeased, which was nice. I just felt a level of curiosity that I’m not really used to. It was a tad disconcerting, but even more than that, refreshing to know that I wasn’t in Tokyo at all and that I had reached small town Japan.

I was waiting for my ride to pick me up, so I wandered around the tiny station which had a large waiting room (an unfamiliar concept in Tokyo), an attached convenience store, and not much else. Out front, there was an interesting but odd statue, a disproportionately large amount of taxi cabs, a parking lot, and a circle for passenger drop-off/pick-up. It was clear that here, the car is King.

So, where was I, and why was I here? Like most things worth talking about, that wasn’t so easily answered.

My favorite band in Tokyo.

A few months ago, I went to go see my roommate's band. With his band, there were also a few other bands that played. One of them was the excellent Highered-Girl, who I highly recommend you check out their website. But, another band blew me away with their music, the singer's voice, and their overwhelming exuberance. That band is called BB Mojaco.

Made up of three of the finest individuals I've met around here, Mojaco is a delight to see. The drummer (pictured above in the center) is also the singer. Her exuberance and sheer joy while performing is unbelievable! The other members (guitarist on the left, bassist on the right) are also talented, energetic, and fun to watch on stage.

When I saw them live for the first time, I was first struck by their talent and accuracy. It was clear that they had practiced several times before and almost seemed to know what the other members were doing automatically. But, the major striking feature of the band is the lead singer's voice. It's amazingly robust and incredibly high. If you want to hear their muisc, click here.

But, this isn't really a story about music. It's more about the people themselves. After the first show I saw them at, I got their contact information, viewed their website and found out about future shows. Shortly after, I went back to America for christmas and missed their next show. I caught the show after that and afterwards, we went out drinking. I got to try sake from all across the country and enjoy the company of a lot of new people. The whole evening was a nonstop thrill ride filled with laughter, good discussions, and awkward English to Japanese translation difficulties. It was an absolute blast, and I had so much fun.

The third time I saw them was on a Monday night which I had Tuesday off. I had fun, but it wasn't the sake drinking nonstop riot that the first time was, since everyone had to work the next day, but it most certainly was fun.

The most recent time I saw them was a week ago Tuesday. I convinced my American friend in the area to come with me, as they were playing in her neighborhood. For reasons I don't quite understand, I had no school on Wednesday as it was a school holiday. We ended up staying up all night drinking beer and enjoying everyone's conversation. Needless to say I had yet another good time.

When will I see these guys again? I don't really know, but I can tell you that I am looking forward to it.