Zen and the Art of Trains

I witnessed my first system failure in Japan the other day. Ok, maybe not complete failure. But things went wrong, in a place where things rarely go wrong. Especially when they involve public transport. The train system is definitely one of Japan’s strong suits; something it rightly boasts as the best in the world. The punctuality, the cleanliness, the unsurpassed efficiency of it… all characteristics of something I hold in reverence. Trains have been my passport to Japan since I arrived- shuttling me here and there between my smallish town and the castles, metropolises, temples, villages, mountains and oceans beyond.



I’ve come to know the different types of trains well (brand-new five-star shinkansens, generic local trains, tiny, rickety ‘one-man’ cars), their various smells (the wet-dog funk of a rainy day, the sticky, sweaty aroma of summer, the acrid stench of alcohol on the last train home), and the unspoken rules of on-board etiquette (never look someone in the eyes, take up as little space as possible, don’t engage in lively conversation before 7pm on a weekday). By now, it’s pretty safe to say that where trains are concerned, I’ve turned Japanese.



To think of Japan’s train lines as its arteries and veins (with Tokyo the heart, and Nagoya and Osaka other vital organs) wouldn’t be too fanciful.

So when trains here are late, you know something bad has happened. You learn that the most likely explanation for a train delay in super-efficient Japan is a suicide. Yep, someone has jumped onto the tracks, and usually succeeded in their mission.

Yesterday, my Belgian friend Aurelie (who I met in Canada and was now hosting in Japan- hello globalization) and I boarded the train for Takayama. We were heading up there to see an ukiyoe exhibit, lured by the offer of free tickets from another friend. All was well at first, bar a run-in with the third middle-aged man in two days to forcibly engage us in English conversation practice. Having shaken him off with a train-change, we settled contentedly into our seats on the express bound for Toyama. But on arrival at Hida Kanayama station (i.e. middle of nowhere), the train stopped, and didn’t get going again FOR FIVE HOURS.

Of course there was no indication that we were in for five hours of suspended animation. As far as I was concerned, this was an unusual, if not unprecedented, train delay, and we would be only a little late meeting my friend. At first Aurelie and I were wrapped up in conversation so it didn’t bother us in the slightest. But after two hours we were getting restless. There had been announcements, but no explanation of the problem- that I, with my conversational Japanese, could decipher. After hour three, I was starting to think that this wasn’t a case of “someone on the tracks”. We were even getting to the point of losing sympathy for the hypothetical victim, and discussed how long it should reasonably take to clean up after such an incident.

A few times, Aurelie and I left the train and sauntered around the platform, to battle a growing case of cabin fever. Passengers in the train stuck going the other direction stared woefully out at us. A local wandered out of his house to gawk at the motionless trains and peer down the tracks, all the while tucking in his shirt. At least the view was pretty. That part of Hida is gorgeous. The station was nestled among small mountain houses surrounded by lush spring greenery spilling down from the forest.





What struck me most about the whole experience was the behavior of the other (Japanese) passengers. For the most part, there was no behavior. They stayed in their seats and dozed, or stared at their mobile phone screens. There was an air of resignation about the whole thing. And this was despite a lack of information from the authorities. No one really knew what was going on, but apparently no one really cared. There was a middle-aged woman scurrying around, hassling the conductors with questions of “when?”, but mostly people just stayed put and waited it out. With not so much as a sigh of impatience.

It got me thinking. I know I’ve changed, being here in Japan. I’ve definitely developed more patience and a greater ability to just ‘let things go’. This is a result of both absorbing some of the cultural norms and the fact that there’s so much more I can’t control here, being a foreigner. For the most part, patience and endurance are a virtue. Certainly they were in the delayed train situation. But I maybe they can also signal apathy and aversion to change. I couldn’t help but think that had there actually been an emergency, where passengers could have done something to help or escape danger, that they would have just stayed put and waited for instructions from the authorities.

I’m sure plenty of people were fuming inside, in their own way. But Japanese culture trains them (no pun intended) to hide outward expressions of strong negative emotions, so they’re masters at concealing frustration. Although strange, the quiet atmosphere in the face of a major disruption to the day was refreshing for me. For the time that I was able to, it was soothing to just accept that our day of sightseeing was shot, sit back, and listen to my iPod, safe in the knowledge that whoever needed to was busily and efficiently working at a solution to the problem.

The hills are alive...

Ahhhh Nagano. What would Japan be without you? Well, it would still have Hokkaido, but that's a whole 'nother island, way up in the north. Nagano must be Honshu's Hokkaido... if that makes any sense.

A few weeks ago, I spent a weekend in this wonderful neighbouring prefecture. The occassion? A soccer tournament. The thing is, I am not a soccer player. Until last June, I had never played a game of soccer. And yet I signed up for two days of non-stop soccer action- on two separate occassions. Anyway, it was for the 'All-Japan ALT Soccer Tournament', held in the green, green mountains of Nagano-ken. Back in June, what really drew me to it was the prospect of running and jumping on a lush carpet of fresh green grass. And, since we were in the middle of the spring/summer season, I definitely wasn't disappointed. The fields we played on are quite possibly the most beautiful soccer fields ever. The view is spectacular- and not at all what you would expect in Japan. You can see the Japan Alps, a wide blue sky, and green fields everywhere:



Contrast this with my typical day-to-day view living in the so-called inaka (countryside) in Gifu:



This time, though, it was an autumn tournament, so the view was just a little less than vibrant green. But no problem; the weather was pretty much perfect for running, jumping, falling head-over-heels, getting bruised, and sweating like a pig.

Anyway, back in June we managed to place second out of about 10 teams. This time, with a different line-up, we came fourth. Which is still a good effort... especially given that these tournaments invariably involve playing multiple games back-to-back. (Although they are mini-games with 15-minute halves, and on a small field.)It doesn't help that the fields are at a bit of an altitude. Needless to say, the two tournaments really took it out of all of us, but most of the returning players felt a lot less like a piece of chewed-up meat the second time around. Here's something I meant to post back in June:

By the closing minutes of the final, my legs were shot. My quadriceps felt like over-stretched rubber bands and I could barely jog off the field, let alone run back on to shake hands with the other team. I also had several Mercedes-Benz imprints on my thighs. That is, from the soccer ball slamming into me. Shrugging it off as battle scars, I managed to join the rest of the team in accepting our second place trophy and 6 packs of Asahi beer.



This time, there were no fountains of beer to help us numb the pain away. I returned to Gifu with a nice bruise on my shin, which emerged despte me wearing shin-guards!

Besides the injuries, the other highlight of the weekend was what I'll call the 'Gaijin Party' on Saturday night. Basically, all players (there were over 100 of us) headed down to the hotel's party room to relive the high school days we never had. It's an all-drinking, all-dancing evening filled with cheesy tunes and even cheesier moves. I don't think any song played that night was released this century. The combination of dated music, alcohol and soccer exhaustion created a dance floor like no other. All I can say is I'm glad I didn't bother bringing my camera. Or maybe I regret it. Either way... No one seemed put off by either the music or the dancing. In fact, apparently a few people journeyed in from Tokyo solely to come to the party. It's not every day you find a foreigner-only party in Japan!

Suprisingly, we pulled up ok on the Sunday after the party. The whole soccer experience is pretty intense, but well worth it. If only to return to the 'burbs of Gifu and boast to your friends of your conquests in the Japan Alps.

August

For the last month, I’ve been living a life of two extremes, filled with intense planning and socializing on the one hand, and mind-numbing boredom on the other.

Intense…
August was the month of new JET arrivals. As a second-year JET, I was appointed to the role of RPA (Regional Prefectural Advisor) in April. Usually there are only PAs, not special regional ones as well, but since Gifu is such a big prefecture, it’s necessary to have representatives for each of the five regions. There are two of us for each region, so I’m working with another JET to help the new people settle in. So during August, much of my time was taken up with the following tasks, some of which were pretty tanoshii (fun), others which were more of a drag, and kind of scary, to be honest:

-Contacting new JETs at their schools, the week they arrived. This sounded easy enough. Simply dial a number, use super-polite, rehearsed Japanese phrase to inquire as to whether a certain ALT is available, speak to said ALT in English. And it was fairly simple, although I fear that I scared most of the JETs, who were a) not expecting a phone call at work, and b) had no clue who I was. From the first tentative ‘moshi moshi’, or ‘hello?’, I became all-to-aware of the trepidation and bewilderment in their voices. No doubt most of them were somewhat dazed, partly as a result of the fact that only days before, they had been teleported from a five-star hotel in Tokyo to a shack/apartment in the middle of some rice-fields. I tried to explain that I was calling just to “see how things were going”, but still I could sense that most didn’t feel comfortable enough to answer honestly. I’m sure calling them helped at least a little in their adjustment to life in Gifu, though.

-Making a video about Gifu. This appeared to be an overwhelming task, which me and the other RPA avoided doing for quite awhile. The aim was to introduce ourselves and our region via video to the new JETs, some of whom we will probably never meet in person. Eventually, we borrowed a camera on what turned out to be the hottest day of the year (around 40 and humid)… a trek around Gifu city was required, and overall, we did really well considering the conditions! We also ‘voluntold’ my visiting Australian friend to play camerawoman and director. We really didn’t have much of a plan, so we used our improv comedy ‘skills’ to liven up the video. Uh, yes…it was hilarious…?

-Writing a guide about Gifu. Still working on this one… another endeavor to make this place more accessible to the newbies. Maybe once we’re done, I can finally grant the people at Lonely Planet their wish and write that book for them- I’ve been in demand there for a few years now, you know. *sigh*

-Organizing presentations for Orientation: another task we successfully managed to avoid until close to D-Day. Ultimately, the orientation went well, but not without a bit of anxiety. Especially since I hardly feel qualified to tell other people (some of whom are trained teachers) how to teach English to Japanese kids. One cool thing we RPAs got out of orientation was brand spanking new Gifu T-shirts (limited edition, of course). With ぎふ (Gifu) on the back, and a map of it on the shoulder (MY idea!), we were looking pretty snazzy. The best part was, one stroke of the ぎ was drawn as an ayu fish, and the ふ was made to look like a cormorant. You really have to be Japanese or a Gifu JET to get the reference- but cormorant fishing (ukai) is Gifu’s claim to fame. Check it out:




-Organizing welcome events. One of the more fun jobs. Lots of meet-and-greets, bringing out the ‘social butterfly’ in me… actually, probably more like a ‘social caterpillar’. It was exciting to meet some fresh faces for a change. Plenty of drinking and eating and sweating under the hot summer sun (during the walking tour of Gifu, conveniently conducted on the other hottest day of the year).

In between being a busy little RPA and dealing with the summer heat, I also squeezed in a quick getaway to the US to visit my Grandma. My August schedule was so full that I had to book my trip for the day after the orientation. Once I arrived, it was so much the complete opposite of everything I’d experienced for the past month and year that I was a little dazed. Not only was I in the US - radically different from Japan in every way - but I had nothing I had to do… except bond with Grandma. I have to admit I spend many quality hours in front of the TV, absorbing all the English I could and rejoicing in being able to understand everything! Unfortunately, my trip was so short (6 days) that I didn’t get a chance to venture into Chicago or enjoy much of the outside world, except a couple of restaurants and the optometrist’s clinic. But no matter; in many ways, the trip recharged me for my next 11 months in Japan. In other ways though, it made me a little more fed up with some aspects of living here that I will explain in the next post.

Mind-numbing…
So as a foil to my RPA persona, my alter-ego was bored ALT. It was the usual scenario, which I don’t believe I’ve described here before. Probably because it’s so boring, even writing about it is boring. Basically, in Japan, teachers have no official holiday periods. Well, aside from a week in August (Obon-week) when many Japanese return to their hometowns to pay homage to their ancestors and dance in a circle- yes, really. But there are no school holidays for teachers, not in the way there are in Western countries. The situation is confusing, and I’m no expert, because no one has ever explained it properly to me, but many teachers have to be at their desks all summer in case a student comes with questions about their school work. Yes. In summer. Summer ‘break’ is only about a month here anyway, and for the first part of the break there are ‘supplementary classes’. (Don’t ask me, I don’t know why they’re necessary either.) A LOT of students continue to come to school, in their uniform, all through summer. They come to prepare for the school culture and sports festivals, which are held during the second week back. Their dedication is unbelievable, but to me, as much sad as admirable. In my first classes back with students I ask them, ‘Did you enjoy summer vacation?’. To which they invariably reply, ‘No.’ Why? Because they spent every day either at school, studying, in sports training, or traveling to some obscure part of the country to participate in a compulsory sports match. In Japan, the emphasis on just doing what you’re supposed to do is reflected in the fact that there is no phrase (that I’m aware of anyway) equivalent to ‘Have fun!’. Only がんばって (Gambatte), which roughly means ‘try your best’. But, some students managed to go to Disneyland – the height of adolescent pleasure in Japan. And a few went on a study trip to Australia. How could anyone not enjoy Australia??

Needless to say, I got a lot of my planning and RPA work done at school each day. Along with a whole lot of web-surfing, emailing, reading, and some Japanese study. My other free moments were filled with staring across the empty staffroom, gazing wistfully out the window, and marveling at the tasks my colleagues had managed to accomplish during a summer spent at their desks. Like making a model ship out of paper. Or cutting their toe nails. (Seriously.)

And now, to demonstrate a typical summer’s day in the staffroom, here’s snippet of a blog entry I wrote a few weeks ago, but never finished, since 35 degrees doesn’t lend itself to being thoughtful- or coherent for that matter…

It’s so hot I can’t think properly. And I’m at work. What about air conditioning, you say? Well, it seems our school or our prefecture is close to bankruptcy, because even though it is over 30 degrees in the staff room right now, the air conditioning is off. I am baffled as to why it is sometimes on and sometimes off. There seems to be no rhyme or reason regarding the on/off schedule. At first, I was told it had to be over 28 degrees in the staffroom, and after the date of July 1, for the air conditioning to be on. But now, those two requirements have been filled. And yet I am sweating like a pig.

This is summer in Japan. Occasionally, a bug or two enters the staffroom. Sometimes it’s a wasp, sometimes a mosquito, sometimes a fly, sometimes a bumblebee. Heck, we’ve even had a bird. Other times, I am so cold from the air conditioning blasting right at me (due to my unfortunate seating position) that I need to put on a sweater even though it’s 30 degrees outside. But mostly, I’m just hot. And my mind is fuzzy.

No Mean Feet

So... remember that little bicycle incident I had back in March? Just before I left for Thailand? The one that gave me a bruised and bloodied left foot? Well, it turned out to be a significant handicap on my trip to Thailand. Yes, it was a wonderful trip. But there were definitely some hiccups along the way- for me, one BIG hiccup.

My foot was fine before I left for Japan- at least I thought so. But my second night in Thailand... well, let's just say I discovered the colours white, green and yellow. It was at Bangkok airport, waiting for our flight to Chiang Mai, that I decided to do something about it. We took the escalator down to the ground floor where the medical clinic was supposed to be. But it wasn't to be that easy. Two official-looking men with name-tags asked us where we were going. We told them "the medical clinic". They didn't seem to understand, so we were led over to another man with a clipboard. He started talking about accomodation. Obviously, they were hawkers looking for tourists to sucker into a hotel/tour deal. We got completely pissed off and walked away. Admittedly, they probably didn't know enough English to work out what we were saying, but what if it had been an emergency? They were leaching our time and our patience.

Eventually we found the medical clinic, and after a couple of scary moments- a VERY tight blood pressure cuff and previous patients' dirty bandages left in the sink - I was all patched up. I was given a 6-day prescription of antibiotics and strict instructions NOT to go swimming. Arghghgh! Perfect!
(But thank you very much Thailand, for your cheap prescriptions!)

I consoled myself with the knowledge that we were only going to Chiang Mai for the time being. There are no beaches there, and I could live without swimming in waterfalls and rivers. Of course, I avoided rafting like the plague. And showers.
Rafts, with me not on them.

By the time we arrived in Phuket, I was still on antibiotics and the situation wasn't much better. I went to the beach, where my attempts to avoid both sand and water provided hours of amusement for me and my friends.
Me not in the water.

The speedboat tour of the islands off Phuket had promised to be the highlight of the trip, but I was marooned on the boat for the entire trip. -Save for an eventful trip to shore which resulted in a wet foot and a panicked bandage-change over lunch. Watching my friends wade through the pristine turquoise waters and frolick on the beach was almost too much to bear. (Okay, I'm exaggerating!)
At least I still had my sense of sight.

Strolls along the main drag proved challenging too, since Thailand is well-equipped with open sewers (well, with grates on top), dripping drainpipes, and random puddles of dirty water. Not to mention stray dogs who, rumor has it, are no strangers to rabies. Normally, none of this would bother me much, but in my condition, I developed a slight paranoia and an aversion to walking long distances. I also suffered visions of diseases caused by flesh-eating tropical bacteria and of rabid Thai dogs approaching me and drooling on my foot... evidence of an ridiculously over-active imagination.

It wasn't long before I was a walking pharmacy. I was carrying all kinds of ointments and every size of bandaid available in Thailand. And I knew which chemist sold the best ones (Boots, in case you ever need to know).

Last stop: Koh Samui. It had been my Emerald City for the entire trip. Surely by Koh Samui, 2 weeks after the bike disaster, I would be recovered enough to swim!? Seems the gods (or maybe Buddha) had other plans. Despite my friend's urging that I should "just do it" and deal with the consequences later, I was a good girl and kept dry. I've discovered that if I think something is unattainable, I am quite good at avoiding temptation and ruling it out as an option (sometimes maybe to my own detriment).
My beach experience. Not too bad, all things considered.

So as a result of this unfortunate course of events, I have lots of photos of me fully clothed, on the beach. I suppose I should be grateful that I come from Australia and have had my fill of ocean swims. Even so, I fully intend to return to Thailand or a similarly gorgeous tropical paradise in the near future- and make swimming and snorkelling my top priorities.

Midori

I just had a very green weekend. No, I didn’t save the environment, but I appreciated it. For someone from Australia – currently drought-stricken and dry as a bone – Japan is incredibly, unbelievably green. It almost looks neon in some places. Especially now, with spring in full swing. Even my friend Julie, from Canada, insists that Japan’s green is much more vibrant than Canada’s green. Forget Ireland! My own town in Gifu is green(ish), and pretty in some places. But this past weekend I saw what are surely three of Japan’s most beautiful places.

First, there was Shirakawa-go: home of the world-heritage-listed gassho houses. (Which, as I described in a earlier blog, look like gingerbread cottage houses.) It was my second trip up there; last time I went in autumn. I really think it is best viewed in spring, although I’m sure the village looks amazing after a fresh snow fall too. Anyway, it was a typical rainy spring day when we arrived. There were fresh leaves and newly-blooming flowers everywhere.


I know it’s a cliché, but there’s really something about drops of water on foliage that makes me feel so clean and refreshed.


Sleeping next to the window that night in my friend’s house, I fell asleep to the sounds of frogs and trickling water… nature’s lullaby!

On Sunday we drove up to Kanazawa, near the Sea of Japan. We visited Kenroku-en Garden, considered one of Japan’s top three gardens. It’s supposed to encapsulate six ideal qualities: spaciousness, seclusion, air of antiquity, ingenuity, flowing water, and views. Not being a Zen scholar, I’m not sure I can comment on all that, but it sure was exquisite. And, of course, intensely green.





Finally, we stopped at Eihei-ji, which has been Japan’s most active Zen meditation monastery for over 400 years. It was maybe the most beautiful place I’ve seen in Japan so far. The ancient trees, moss, ferns, mist and dim light all came together to create an atmosphere like something out of Lord of the Rings. We arrived at the end of the day, so my three friends and I had it all to ourselves.


From afar, Japan tends to be viewed as somewhat of an urban wasteland (albeit an obsessively clean, orderly one). Despite the face that I live in the inaka (countryside), I still get this impression. Every square inch seems to be occupied in some way- by a house, rice field, shrine, vending machine, combini, train station... But this weekend reminded me that landscapes don’t have to be undisturbed to be beautiful. I'm not the first to say that the Japanese are experts at working with nature to create beautiful spaces.

Places Where Dreams Come True

Japan is the land of theme parks. There’s Disneyland and Universal Studios and Huis ten Bosch (replicates Dutch villages), Parque Espana (replicates Spain) and Meiji Mura (recreates Japan in the Meiji period) and… the list goes on and on:
http://www.tjf.or.jp/eng/content/japaneseculture/31themepark.htm
I guess it must be the Japanese preference for controlled environments that makes them particularly successful here. You can pretend you went somewhere (America, Holland, Spain, back in time) without actually doing it, and without having to deal with complicated travel plans, culture shock, or too many gaijin. And look kawaii while doing it!

Already, since I’ve been here, I’ve visited five amusement parks: Little World, Tobu World Square, Tokyo Disneysea, Japan Monkey Park and Sweet Castle. And I’m not particularly obsessed with theme parks; it’s just that they seem to present themselves as entertainment options so frequently that eventually you find yourself giving in and going.

When my friend and I went to Tokyo around New Year’s, we knew we had to make a stop at one of the Disney parks… but since there are two, we had to choose. Disneyland is obviously the more conventional option, a clone of the Californian version. We decided to break with tradition and visit DisneySEA instead, since it was supposed to be “more adult” (not in a risqué way, though!). The whole place was designed with a seafaring/aquatic theme in mind, and turned out to be more enjoyable than I expected. There were no Mickeys or Donald Ducks running around, which suited me perfectly since I find those characters a bit too manically happy. But there were plenty of Japanese people of all ages and genders wandering around with furry Disney-character hats on, which in itself would have been enough amusement for one day.


The town of Inuyama, only 15 minutes by train from where I live, seems to be somewhat of a theme park mecca in Japan. It has at least four amusement parks: Little World, Monkey Park, Sweet Castle and Meiji Mura (I’ve visited the first three). Little World turned out to be sort of a disappointment because it wasn’t the miniature world I imagined- just some replicas of traditional buildings from around the world. The selection of locations was bizarrely random, too: Okinawa, Nepal, Thailand, Ghana, Italy and Germany. However, Tobu World Square in Nikko, which I went to later, fulfilled all my dreams of seeing tiny versions of famous landmarks and taking surreal photos of them.

My visit to Monkey Park (Japan’s biggest!) last weekend is what prompted this whole blog entry. I went with three other friends from JET who, like me, have retained the ability to act unapologetically immature when necessary. The first indication that we would need to revert back to childhood to fully enjoy the park came when we noticed that everyone else there was either a 3-year old child or the parent of a 3-year-old. In other countries, you might expect a zoo specializing in monkeys to be relatively scientific and convey messages of environmental conservation etc… but Japan Monkey Park is more like the name suggests- a monkey theme park. There were mechanical animals to ride, miniature trains to sit in, ice cream and beer to buy, and various other rides to enjoy… that we were too big to fit on.

In addition to these stellar attractions, there were, of course, monkeys. Hundreds of monkeys from seventy-three different species. Some were in antiquated cages with concrete and bars, others were in what I call ‘monkey pits’, still others had jungle gyms and wooden bridges to play on, and some lucky ones were roaming free in their own mini-jungle. A stand-out memory was “Monkey Valley”, where several macaques were sitting on posts about 4 meters above the ground, clapping their hands (see picture below) so that the spectators would throw treats at them… which the monkeys would then try to catch by leaning out from their perch. At least the treats were apparently healthy (not popcorn or other junk).

A couple of monkeys also practically launched themselves at us, in the enclosures which weren’t actually enclosed- the squirrel monkey island and the lemur colony.

The baboon pit held our attention for more than a few minutes. Actually, though, I think the monkeys were doing pretty well socially, given how overcrowded the enclosures seemed.

After Monkey Park we decided to further indulge our immature side by visiting Sweet Castle. It’s marketed as being “filled with a sweet aroma”, but I guess we arrived too late that day since we missed out on both the smell and the baking activities they offer there. We did get to marvel at the splendor of the castle’s architecture, Cinderella’s glass slipper and the 14.2m tall sugar cake (which I suspect is actually made of cardboard with a few sugar decorations stuck on). We also saw the ‘Santa and his sleigh’ statue outside the castle, which is there all year long… further evidence that Japan does not understand Christmas at all. Ultimately, all we really cared about was the sweets smorgasboard, where we gorged on mousse, cake, crepes, fairy floss and parfait (it WAS a birthday celebration, after all).

If I don’t visit another theme park while I’m here in Japan I’ll be very surprised.

Thailand I: Took a Tuk Tuk

Last week I returned from a two-week holiday in Thailand. It was quite an affecting trip in many ways, both positive and negative. It was my first trip outside the so-called ‘developed’ world, and while I’m wary of seeming politically incorrect or snobby even bringing it up, that fact definitely can’t be ignored. I will probably milk this trip for all it’s worth on my blog, since there are so many things I saw and experienced in Thailand that are worth commenting on.

I went with another ALT friend, Julie, and her boyfriend, Duane, who met us in Bangkok after flying in from Canada. Our trip turned out to be a typical ‘clueless tourists do Thailand’ holiday. We had originally planned to do a few days of volunteering to compensate for what was going to mainly be a beach holiday. But those plans fell through due to logistical reasons and the general (perhaps selfish) consensus that since we couldn’t spend more than two days volunteering it wouldn’t be worth it since we probably wouldn’t have much of an impact. So we decided to keep our save-the-world ambitions for another time and another trip.

We picked the perfect place to 'find ourselves' as tourists. Tourism makes a bigger contribution to the Thai economy than that of any other Asian country. And people working in this industry in Thailand certainly know how take advantage of tourists, in more ways than one! All three of us were aware of the Thailand’s various tourist scams, and we felt that we were adequately prepared to avoid and deflect any attempts to ensnare us. But despite our best efforts, we, like the naïve westerners we were, managed to get tuk-tuk-napped on our very first day in Bangkok.

Tuk tuks (named after the sound they make) are the infamous small ‘taxis’ that zip through traffic in cities all over Thailand. Riding in one is a pretty exhilarating experience. They aren’t quite cars, but aren’t motorbikes or scooters either… Wikipedia calls them ‘auto rickshaws’, which sounds like an apt description. Technically they’re tricycles (!), since the driver steers with handlebars, not a steering wheel.


Prices are usually set by bartering, not by meter. So we were kind of wary of tuk-tuks to begin with. After visiting the Grand Palace (huge, stunning and gold), we had planned to see the Reclining Buddha (also huge, stunning and gold). Of course this involved unfurling our huge map of Bangkok right on the corner of a busy intersection. We were too hot, too sweaty, and too naïve to bother trying to be any more discreet. Plus, by this stage we were getting comfortable with our tourist status and didn’t see the point in feigning street-smarts.

Within a few seconds we were approached by a very friendly, very smiley Thai man who spoke excellent English and asked where we were from and where we wanted to go. I was suspicious, but we told him anyway. He told us which direction the Reclining Buddha was in and then proceeded to inform us that we wouldn’t be able to see it until after 4pm that day since the monks were having a special ceremony for the King’s sister, who had just died. Instead, he advised, there were a number of other sights we could visit, including the Sitting Buddha and the Standing Buddha. Oh, and had we heard of ‘Voglee’? No, we hadn’t. Apparently it was a wonderful silk market and was on the way to one of the million other Buddha statues we ‘needed’ to see. He drew it on the map for us and then outlined a route which would allow us to see everything we wanted before 4pm. The man was so friendly that I found myself doubting my initial instinct that he was going to try to get money out of us. I wasn’t even suspicious when he claimed he was an ex-monk. And we all scurried away obediently when he told us, ‘Quick! Get in that tuk-tuk there on the corner! It will take you to the sights. A very low price for you! Don’t pay more than 40 bhat.’

To start off, the tuk-tuk driver took us straight to our desired destination, of course… to gain our trust. A couple of Buddha statues later, we returned to the tuk-tuk to find our driver waiting. ‘Sorry,I go to toilet now’, he said. We thought this a little strange since he had been waiting for us for around 20 minutes and had had plenty of time to relieve himself. But we stayed put anyway and waited for him in the tuk-tuk.

By and by, another friendly, smiley Thai man speaking excellent English greeted us from the car next to us. “Where you from?” he asked. (I have since become highly suspicious of anyone using this as their opening line!) After exchanging small talk about the weather and our trip plans, he asked us if we knew about ‘Voglee’. All we knew was that it was a silk shop, we said. This was his cue to talk it up: it was very cheap; only just opened to tourists; today was the last day of a massive sale; and oh yeah, he had been there with his mother just yesterday! Surprise, surprise, immediately upon completion of this spiel, our trusty driver returned from his 15-minute ‘toilet break’. “Take us to Voglee!” we chimed.

The second we pulled up to the building, it clicked: we were in the middle of one of Thailand’s finest scams. The silk market we had envisioned was actually a kind of seedy suit shop with a few hot and bothered European tourists milling around outside. A nervous Indian guy showed us to a room and made us look through some catalogues. We flicked through for a few minutes and then decided to just straight out say we weren’t interested. This was the turning point. After our escape from Voglee, we were ready to see more Buddhas and ONLY Buddhas. No more silk!

“Did you buy anything?” our driver asked. No. “Why you not buy something?” Because we didn’t want anything. We could tell our driver was frustrated. He seemed to be stewing about it, and looking at his expression in the rearview window I almost felt sorry for him, because he was looking incredibly stressed and anxious. Soon enough he stopped by the side of the road. “Now what?” we wondered. “I take you silk shop and jewellery shop. ” “Ah, no…” we protested. “Very nice, very cheap, special for you.” Then he came clean with us. If we spent just 8 minutes in the shop, he could get a free petrol token from the shop. But we had to pretend to be interested, ask questions, look at the pictures. Plus, our entire tuk-tuk ride / tour / scam would be free if we just went to these shops. We felt sorry for him and he WAS finally being honest, so we agreed. But only if he promised to take us to the Golden Mount straight afterwards. Well, we went to our second silk shop of the day and pretended to be interested, inquiring about the sizing, styles, and prices of the clothes they could make. We had a good laugh thinking about how this entire operation was a scam from every angle- everyone was playing a role, us included. The jewelry store was semi-enjoyable since they had some nice souvenirs and there were lots of pretty shiny things for us to look at. And in the end we did get dropped off at the Golden Mount… but so much for the rest of our tour. Our driver had deserted us! He was nowhere to be found. We weren’t particularly surprised, though, after all that had happened.

In the end, we didn’t even mind having been victims of the Great Tuk-Tuk Scam (which I’ve since found described on the internet, exactly like what we experienced). It was interesting to see how it operated and even more interesting to realize that skeptics like us could be roped into it. We were pretty clueless regarding what we wanted to do in Bangkok anyway, so it wasn’t like we missed out anything. And we got to see several sights for free… Except we never DID get to the Reclining Buddha!

Bike Dramas

I'd been debating whether or not to write a post about my Lake Biwa cycling experience, but the most recent development in my life has prompted me to go ahead and write one without further delay. Today, riding home from work on my bike, I passed a couple of students from my school. They turned out to be some of the more friendly ones, and their enthusiastic "herro"s prompted me to be friendly also, so I asked them a few simple questions in English. In hindsight, this was a mistake. Noble, but a mistake nonetheless. Riding a bike on a busy road while talking to people behind you is not a smart idea. After being overtaken by an annoyed housewife in an SUV (yes, they exist even in space-starved Japan), and realizing I had better just pay attention to where I was riding, I slammed into a rock by the roadside. Well, "sustained scraping" might be a better description. I could feel excruciating pain in my foot almost immediately, but not wanting to scare the students or make a scene, I simply yelled 'ow!' a few times (instead of the choice words I'm accustomed to using) and carried on. Of course I couldn't think of any more questions to ask the girls after that, and was grimacing all the rest of the way home.

Needless to say, I have been lying with my leg elevated for the last 2 hours, trying to keep the purple golf ball (a.k.a. swelling and bruising)on my foot from getting any bigger. So instead of doing all the productive things I planned to do today after work, I am forced to lie here and reminisce about the Lake Biwa ride...

It sounded wonderful, in theory. And ultimately, I'm glad I did it. The idea was to cycle around Lake Biwa over a weekend (and to fundraise for Cambodian children, at that!). I just wish I had had a more realistic picture of what it would entail. Sure, I knew I was cycling 160km (100 miles) around Japan's Biggest Lake(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Biwa). But JAPAN- how big could it be, in this land of minatures? And actually, it wasn't the length of the journey that was the problem. It was my bike... and a case of 'modern Japan strikes again'. The bike rental place did not make much of an attempt to size our bikes for us. Basically they gave us a bike and we got on it. I put my seat up before I began, but that was it. So one hour into the journey, I was starting to fear the worst- that my bike seat was going to beat my behind into a pulp. By hour 2, I started to realize that in addition, my handlebars were way too low. So low that I couldn't breathe properly because I was practically bent double.


Me looking way happier with my bike than I actually was (note the sweater used as padding).

The other unexpected negative aspects of the trip were the scenery and road quality... or lack of them, in places. Being from Australia, I've come to expect a certain amount of unspoiled scenery when I do things outdoors. But, hiking or biking in modern Japan, the most you can reasonably expect are fairly fleeting, postage-stamp-sized windows of beauty now and then. That in itself definitely has a certain charm...


But somehow on the trip I found myself enduring way too many moments of annoyance and fear when riding along busy highways or through tunnels, with trucks and motorbikes zooming past. It definitely couldn't be helped; I'm sure the route we took was the best possible, but it was just a reflection of how urbanized Japan is.

That said, there were plenty of pretty spots along the way- especially since it was still cherry-blossom season in that area of Japan. Another issue, though, was the time limit we had and the fact that my group of friends and I were so far behind the others that we had little time for photos. I will never be a speed-demon, that's for sure!

**By the way, I don't want this to come across as a whine or rant. And I'm embellishing a little bit... none of this was by any means the hardest thing I've done. (Although at the time I swore it was!) And also, I feel lucky that I even had the chance to do this trip. But if I didn't exaggerate a bit, this blog entry would read, 'Last weekend I rode around Lake Biwa. It was pretty and we had good weather.'**

So, two facts about Japan unite these cycling experiences:
1. Japan is suffering from overdevelopment.
2. Despite my cautious nature, I am becoming overconfident in my cycling abilities here.

If it wasn't for point 1, maybe today I could have actually rode on a footpath rather than the road, or had more room to ride, and therefore saved my foot. If it wasn't for point 2, I never would have attempted to talk and bike at the same time.

Regarding Lake Biwa, if it wasn't for point 1, I may have had the 'communing with nature' experience I anticipated. If not for point 2, I wouldn't have attempted to ride around Japan's biggest lake in 2 days on a bike designed for a Japanese child.

But, thanks to these two facts, I am now blessed with interesting memories, a limp, and an exquisitely-composed, extremely riveting blog entry. Makes it all worthwhile.

I Found The Twilight Zone in Tokyo

Two random, pretty weird things happened to me in Tokyo on my recent trips there, and I just have to get them down.

1. The scene: New Years Eve, sick in bed at a cheap hotel because I got food poisoning from KFC! On my 10th visit to the bathroom, I am sitting in the cubicle when I become aware that the Indian guys from down the hall (who have been partying in their room for several hours) have decided to also take a trip to the bathroom before they venture out for NY celebrations. It suddenly occurs to me that this is a unisex toilet, and there are urinals just outside my door. So I vow to remain silent and let them do their business. One by one, they come in, take care of the task at hand (I am unfortunately privy to exactly what that involves), and leave, taking their sweet time! After each one leaves I am SURE it must be over, but no- another one shuffles in. I am getting more and more annoyed and embarrassed by the second, not just because it's not exactly pleasant listening to the tinkling, but also because I am afraid if they find out I've been in there all along, who knows how they might react. Just when I think it can't get much worse, drunk Indian guy number 8 comes in, warbling 'My Heart Will Go On'. Yes, the Celine Dion ballad. In an Indian accent. At least it drowned out the other sounds.

2. My friend Leanne and I are walking across a busy street in Akihabara, the area of Tokyo where all the weird and wonderful newest technological advances first go on sale. Just as we reach the other side, we both feel someone rubbing our heads firmly and vigorously. I am stunned for a couple of seconds and the possibilities of who it might be run through my head. Leanne's friend Yota, who we met for dinner last night? His friend Simon, who we also met? We turn around and see a middle-aged Japanese guy in glasses running away (in what can only be described as a 'frolicking' manner), half giggling, half-panicked. It sounds funny, but it left me outraged. A complete invasion of... everything. And people around us, although they had noticed, didn't bat an eyelid because the Japanese are masters of the 'bystander effect'. This angered me even more. Looking back, yes, it's funny... but unsettling, because he could have done way more than just mess up our hair.

Insert Seoul/Sold/Soul pun here

I made it back safe and sound from the wilds of Korea. Yep, in the past few weeks I've shed my skin flakes all over eastern Asia. Seoul was cool, but I can't say it was the trip of a lifetime. Food was great, onsen was nice, the company was good, but something about the trip fell a little flat with me. I'm cautious saying it, but I think I've become a bit 'Japanized'. I think that after only a few months of living in Japan, even the most hardened foreigner will find themselves adopting (at least to some degree) the impossibly discerning attitudes towards cleanliness, 'politeness' and aesthetics of the Japanese.

Granted, Seoul is a huge, bustling metropolis, whereas I currently live the suburbs of a fairly small city... actually, full-on inaka (country-side) according to the Japanese (but then everything except Shinjuku is inaka to them!) But Seoul came across as kind of dirty, too busy and annoyingly chaotic. I don't know if there was a garbage collection strike while we were there, but you couldn't help but notice the piles of garbage bags, many half-open, on every street corner. There were also people trying to sell you (low-quality) stuff EVERYwhere. Oh, and we got lost trying to find a castle, so we walked all over Seoul (which, by the way, must be one of the world's hilliest cities) looking for the bloody thing.
From the top of a hill after failing to find the castle.
When we finally found the castle (aided by the directions of a very friendly parking attendant), the gates were closed. By that point we had exactly 15 minutes to make it back to our hostel across town for the next activity.

...Which actually happened to be the highlight of the trip- a Korean public bath. Yes, that means you get naked with strangers, something I am well acquainted with now, having developed a fondness for Japanese onsen. I can't say I was a huge fan of the 55 degree sauna, or the hessian bags they placed on our heads before we entered (?!). But the washing and the scrubbing and the being massaged was pretty relaxing. And exactly what we needed after a day of what was for me, sort of disappointing sightseeing.

The day before (just to give you the story out of order), we took a tour of the DMZ, the 'demilitarized zone' between North and South Korea. Unfortunately the tour we took didn't actually go inside the DMZ, like some do, but we got pretty close to it and it was interesting to learn about the situation. The most interesting thing was the way that South Korea presents the situation to tourists. If you were to believe their hype, North and South Korea are about to reunite any day. It's great that they're optimistic, and I'm no expert on the politics, but I couldn't help feeling that it kind of denies the gravity of the conflict.

Oh, and of course the day we visited the lookout point that allows you to see across a valley into North Korea, it rained cats and dogs. The fog was so thick you could barely see a few meters in front of you. The view from the observation deck was a sea of white. So much for binoculars!

I can say that the people in Korea were, overall, really helpful and friendly (the hostel lady, random people who helped us out with directions, the waiter who brought us the best meal ever, the tour guide, the onsen ladies...). Let's just try to forget the old guy on the train that came up to my friend, GRUNTED to her to get up, and took her seat. Our last meal in Korea was absolutely, amazingly delicious, and extremely spicy, of course.

We were wary of the after-affects, namely the "ring 'o' fire" that would strike, possibly while we were on the plane back to Japan, but decided it was worth it. (I was spared the suffering, but my friend wasn't so lucky.)

Pretentious disclaimer: The above is just an account my my own reactions and experiences on a quick, 2-day trip to Seoul. It is by no means representative of Korea and any trip anyone else takes there, and any future trip I might take there, will bear little resemblance to what I experienced this time. I know there are many many amazing cultural and social aspects to Korea that I have no idea about and would love to discover. The negative things I've talked about shouldn't be a reflection on Seoul or Korea in general; they're mostly just a result of the shortness of our trip, the rainy weather on the first day, our slight lack of planning, and my now Japanese-influenced cultural perspective!

The best laid plans...

I've just completed the mammoth task of deciding what to do with my mum when she visits. The possibilities were endless: what to do when you you've got Japan at your doorstep, one Japan Rail Pass, 3 months worth of pay and 5 days off work? I felt the pressure to show her the best Japan could offer. Finally, after weeks of prodding her for ideas- and receiving varying suggestions such as "somewhere warm", "somewhere we can't go on a weekend", "anywhere, really" - I took the plunge and booked us a 2 nights at two different minshukus (family-run inns) in the Kiso Valley, Nagano prefecture. After making the commitment to invest time and money in these places, I spent the rest of the day convincing myself I had made a good choice. The Kiso Valley is home to the Nakasendo road, a 'post road' (whatever that is) from the Edo period (1600-1868). Many of the towns along this route have been preserved as they were in the Edo period, even to the extent where no aerial wires are allowed. You can walk a 9km trail past woods, farms and old inns between two of the towns (Magome and Tsumago). The minshukus we're staying in were apparently resting spots for travellers back in the day. Anyway, it'll probably be pretty damn cold, but I'm looking forward to 'stepping back in time' for a couple of days, and seeing 'the other Japan', as one travel website put it. So much for "somewhere warm"!

PS. My bedroom has just reached a high of 18 degrees after I broke down and turned the heater on for the first time. Yep, winter's definitely approaching, and they're predicting a not-so-mild one.

Let's play catch (up)

Whoops. It's been over a month since my last post and I didn't even write anything about my trip to Shirakawa-go, or Nara, or Halloween, or Hida, or... or... So, time for a quick run-down:

Shirakawa-go
I got to spend a weekend in a UNESCO World Heritage-listed village in the mountains of Japan. AND, I got to appease all my senses by witnessing traditional festival celebrations. AND, did I mention this was a SAKE festival?! It's called the 'Doburoku Matsuri' and it's named after a type of unfiltered sake. Unlike the clear sake you might be familiar with, it looks more like oatmeal because the rice grains haven't been completely filtered out. Doburoku tastes a whole lot more bitter than the mainstream version. Actually, it was hard to get down but it didn't take us long to acquire a taste!

Basically, the weekend looked like this: Me and a couple of other JET friends from down south (Gifu) took a 3 hour train north to Takayama (an incredibly beautiful town in itself, dubbed 'Little Kyoto') where we were picked up by another friend who just happens to live in one of the most picturesque villages in all of Japan. (Nice to have friends like that.) Unlike his predecessor though, who was the 'experienced woodsman' type, I don't think Jordan particularly enjoys the 'roughing it' aspect of his situation, which involves things like helping the townspeople thatch the roofs of generations-old houses, and in winter, digging a tunnel through the snow to his get to his car. ;P Anyway, from what I can tell, his situation looks like the 'storybook JET experience' and I hope he realises how lucky he is.

So what's all the fuss about Shirakawa-go? Well, it's home to 'gassho-zukuri' houses, which have a 'prayer-hands construction' style. To put it in English, the houses look like cute little gingerbread-house woodsy-mountainy village houses that you'd find in the Swiss Alps. They're actually designed that way so snow can't accumulate on the steep roofs in winter. The upper part of the building was traditionally used for things like producing silk, so the silk-worms lived up in the attic. And my friend's students live there!

Back to the festival: We followed the parade (involving a lion/dragon, a drum, a red devil, a green devil, lots of boys in white, rainbow streamers and a respected elder riding a rickshaw) up to the village temple, watched a lot of lion dancing, and tasted sake. We were impressed when the officials laid down two long mats in front of the temple and let everyone sit down on them before they came by with pots of sake and served us all-you-can drink proportions. Needless to say, most people were dead to the world on the bus-ride back to Gifu...

Halloween
I have to say I am getting a little annoyed at the Japanese versions of American holidays. And I haven't even lived through Valentine's Day yet! The Japanese don't know much about the REAL meaning of any of these holidays. Of course, most holidays have lost their significance in the West as well, what with commercialization etc... but in Japan, the sole reason they adopted these holidays is because they think the decorations are cute. I don't want to sound like Scrooge, but it makes me feel a bit sick. The minute Halloween was over, out came the Christmas decorations. And if you think it's overkill in America or Australia, you'd better not set foot in Japan. The malls and supermarkets have been playing Christmas carols since the first week of November. And I'm not particularly religious, but the whole Christmas thing being completely devoid of any references to Jesus, Mary, etc, is a bit wrong, I think.

Having said all that, Halloween was fun. The ironic thing, though, is that despite the plethora of Halloween merchandise available in Japan, the Japanese people seem to have a big problem actually wearing any of it come Halloween-eve. My friends and I went to the 'Nagoya Friends' Halloween party- supposed to be a chance for 'foreigners' and Japanese people to have fun together. It was 80 percent 'foreigners', and the Japanese that were there wore cat-ear headbands (girls) or the work suits they had been wearing all day (men). The Japanese guy we talked to said he had come as 'the British PM'. Because he was wearing a suit. Ha. I guess I can see their point in not dressing up. It can be chotto embarrasing. My friend Julie and I decided to go as Hello Kitty and My Melody (another similar character, a pink rabbit). Seeing as all we had to do was buy a headpiece and gloves for 20 bucks, it seemed to make sense. Except unfortunately for me, Halloween evening happened to coincide with the official bankruptcy of Nova, Japan's biggest English language school. This story was huge in the Japanese media. Nova's mascot is a pink rabbit. Who looks a lot like My Melody. And I was wearing a pink rabbit costume on the night of the day Nova went under. JET is like the 'rival' way (and I must say, the superior way) to go teach English in Japan. Anyway, lots of people thought I was making fun of Nova. So I felt bad, but not until the next day when I was sober enough to work out what all those Japanese people had been saying: "Nova usagi!" (Nova rabbit). That night we had fun trekking back to our hotel for 45 minutes, bringing joy to groups of Japanese businesspeople and traffic officers along the way.

Nara
It might not have been the best plan to go to Halloween festivities the night before a big trip to Nara, one of Japan's cultural and historical capitals. But it turned out ok anyway. Except for the fact that we made the mistake of actually taking advice from a train conductor, and ended up spending 6 hours on trains when we only meant to spend 3. Note to self: never ask for advice if you think you know what you are doing. Inevitably, it will throw you off course. I'd spent a good hour online planning which trains we should take, etc, and it was all undone by the advice "the other train will get you there faster". We got there in the end, with enough time to meet the deer and see the Todai-ji and the Daibutsu, a huge Buddha statue. Yes, that's right, meet the deer. They're left free to roam all through central Nara because they're considered messengers of the gods according to Shinto beliefs. They're cute, especially the young ones, but some can be pretty aggressive in their search for treats. We also got to see Kasuga shrine, where the deer seem to be more peaceful, perhaps because they're more religious. This shrine has lots and lots of lanterns and is really beautiful. To finish off the trip, we considered buying omiyage (souvenirs) to take back to our colleagues, but I wasn't game enough to buy the 'deer dropping' cakes! (chocolate, of course)

Hida
Two weekends ago I was lucky enough to be a special guest of the Hida Tourism board. Along with 4 other JETs and other 'foreigners' (there's that word again), I experienced an all-expenses paid overnight tour of northern Gifu-ken. I feel it's my duty to now convey to all my friends and family how wonderful Hida is as a tourist destination. And it really is; it's a very traditional, mountainous area of the prefecture, where a lot of old crafts are still practiced. We had to fight our survival instincts to actually board the tour bus, having read the itinerary stating that the tour will require "ten foreigners to execute". Our first stop was an apple orchard where we did some pickin'. Unfortunately, because it had rained a little that day, the 'Country Walk' was cancelled (for me, it felt like a frustrating example of Japanese-ness, but that's probably being unfair). Instead, we got to see a town called Kamioka, which had some beautiful autumn leaves and a funny-but-not-really sign on a bridge that said "Think again. There's a brighter future" in Japanese. The guides told us, through their laughter, that it was there to stop people committing suicide, since it commonly happens on that bridge.After the strenuous hike, we were dropped off at an onsen to soak our aching muscles. I love onsen but I don't think my body is quite used to being immersed in 50-degree-celcius water for minutes on end. Finally, it was off to the hotel, and a beautiful traditional Japanese dinner with local delegates. My friend and I were seated with the Head of Tourism for Hida (I think that was his title, anyway), and of course, managed to drink enough sake to help him confirm every misconception of 'foreigners' he ever had. Actually, it wasn't me who was so drunk, but my friend, who was christened a 'champion' at the end of the night. Oh, and by the way, I overheard one of the delegates commenting on how we 'ate everything' (zenbu tabeta). To which the other replied, 'their bodies are big' (karada ga ookii). Of course they must have thought we couldn't understand, but I did! The delegates also treated us to a couple renditions of the Hida song and taught us the Hida dance. You must understand that in Japan, whenever alcohol is offered, it's expected that people will drink until they're making fools of themselves.

The next day we had our choice of soba noodle-making, paper-making or lacquering. I chose to lacquer, and of course, you can't do that in two hours, so we only got to do the first layer. Our bowls will be sent to us when they're done. After a tour of Furukawa town and another amazing meal, we only had to spend half an hour filling in a survey and we had 'paid' for our trip. Of course they served us coffee and snacks while we worked on the surveys, to make us feel even more guilty.And that's what I've been up to, fun-wise, over the last month or so. Next time I'll write an entry that's more representative of my daily life!

Kyoto Khaos

The past two weeks have been fairly easy, work-wise. It feels like I’ve spent more time doing interesting Japanese-y things than working, which is great, but believe it or not, I am actually ready to start ‘real’ work, 2 months into the job! Japan has had two long weekends in a row, thanks to ‘Respect for the Aged Day’ and ‘Autumnal Equinox Day’. By comparison, Australians really shouldn’t get so excited about their one or two slack ‘do we really need this?’ public holidays- the Melbourne Cup and Queen’s Birthday. Japan is the world leader in those kinds of days off… a sample from my diary: Health and Sports Day; Culture Day; Coming of Age Day; Vernal Equinox Day (and it’s on a Thursday!); Emperor’s Birthday; Greenery Day; Children’s Day; Marine Day… etc.

Anyway, the last few days at work have been taken up with high school exams. I think they have them every couple of months or so. I actually had to write one of the tests for the 3rd grade class (Year 12)! That was interesting, given that I hadn’t even taught them the material they were going to be tested on. Oh well, somehow I cobbled together a few questions using the textbook. I also had to mark the tests, and freaked myself out because the first 5 or so were terrible- like 20 out of 50. I thought I had made the test too hard, until I found a few students who managed to get in the high 40s. Phew! “With great power comes great responsibility.” ;-pBut the main thing that’s blog-worthy this time is my trip to Kyoto ! I went last weekend with 4 other people (all doing the same program as me). Kyoto, in case you didn’t know, is the cultural capital of Japan . It wasn’t bombed during WWII, so many of Japan ’s oldest and most famous temples are there. AND, it’s only a 2 hour train ride (only around $20) from here! I knew Gifu was good for something… getting away!

Saturday, September 22-
Wake up early and try to discreetly (i.e. through much banging of pots and pans; turning taps off and on; opening and shutting doors) force my friend Sandra to wake up and get moving because we can’t miss the train! Arrive at the station on time, but receive a call from the other three, saying they’re gonna miss it. Decide to go anyway- screw them, they can get the next one. (hehe) Are surprised when they step on the train one stop after us; they made it after all, but had to do a last-second car park in a weird spot. We all pray the car is still there in two days time.

Arrive in Kyoto, ravenous. Must eat before we can sightsee. Wander the station for half an hour and finally get a meal in an ‘Italian’ restaurant. After eating, realize we need bus and sightseeing info. Find the tourist info office, but unfortunately, it’s only for Japanese people. A sign informs us that foreigners must go to the 9th floor. “Apartheid!”, we protest. 2 hours after arriving at Kyoto station, we manage to exit it. Get the bus to our first destination, Nijo-jo (Nijo castle). Buy an entry ticket from machine (yeah, why DO we need ticket booth attendants anyway?) Enter the glory that is Nijo-jo. Marvel at the architecture, straight out of a samurai movie, and the sheer number of middle-aged French tourists. Marvel again at the ‘nightingale’ floors- the floorboards are arranged so that when you walk on them, they squeak and sound exactly like birds twittering (designed so that intruders could be detected).

Take the bus to the hotel, Orange Inn, chosen by yours truly. Check in and flop on the bunks. But realize we must soldier on. Take the train to an out-of-the-way, but reportedly incredibly awesome, shrine: Fushimi Inari Taisha. It’s a Shinto shrine dedicated to Inari, the god of fertility, rice, agriculture, foxes and industry (according to Wikipedia!). Her spirits, or messengers, are foxes, which supposedly hold the key to rice granaries in their mouths. I just like the bit about the foxes. Anyway, behind the shrine, there are hundreds of red gates (torii) lined up like dominoes, which are very impressive and picturesque. If you come to Kyoto , you must go.

Take bus to Gion, the old ‘geisha’ district of Kyoto, with visions of geisha dancing in our heads. Fail to spot a geisha but are too hungry to care. Eat okonomiyaki at a traditional-looking restaurant near a very beautiful stream and bridge.

Go to bed early, with plans to rise early to make the most of the day.

Sunday, September 23-
Miss the alarm; sleep in until 10. Abandon all hope of getting out early, knowing the reputations of two of our crew (they like to groom). Eat a combini (convenience store) breakfast on the way to first sight: Kinkakuji. This is the most well-known landmark in Kyoto . It’s a temple coated- COATED- in gold (Kin means gold). It’s a bit smaller than I imagined but absolutely stunning.

Take bus to second site, Ginkakuji. Gin means silver. But alas, it’s not coated in silver. The intention was there, but it never happened. Instead, (cue pretentious language) this temple has become an example of the wabisabi aesthetic- basically an idea of beauty that’s not about perfection, but about seeing beauty in imperfect, impermanent, incomplete things. The gardens surrounding the temple are beautiful; so cultivated- every branch and rock has been pruned or placed just-so, but it still manages to look natural. Personally, I found Ginkakuji just as, if not more, impressive than Kinkakuji, but in a different way.

…Continue our temple-crawl- onwards to Kiyomizudera (It means ‘clear water temple’. Little did we know, it was to live up to its name in an unexpected way). Anticipate the most breathtaking view in all of Japan , perhaps the world (the view has just been declared one of the new 7 wonders of the world, or something). Walk for 30 minutes through a cemetery, slowing developing the suspicion that we’re going the wrong way. Eventually arrive at the temple. Confirm that it’s beautiful. Look up as the heavens open and the first of many, many raindrops hit us. Look around at all the Japanese tourists, huddled under the sheltered parts, staring gloomily out. Decide we might as well look even weirder than we already do, and run through the rain to the temple. Look out at haze. Wonder if the view really is nice and decide we may never know. Get even wetter, running from one pagoda to another. Get separated. Call each other with instructions for how to find each other. Don’t find each other. Get literally pushed into the rain by grumpy Japanese woman trying to close up her souvenir shop. Leave the temple, this time walking the correct way down the hill, along with 10 000 other Japanese tourists. Finally give in a pay 400 yen each for an umbrella. Walk for another half hour to the bus. End up in Gion again.

Decide an sento (public bath) is what we need. Arrive at sento – boys and girls separate. Fumble around with our lockers et cetera for 10 minutes before we get up the courage to strip off. Enter bathing area, cover certain areas with our ‘dignity towel’. ‘ Wash ’ (whoops, forgot to bring soap!) before getting in the bath. Enter 50-degree water. Turn pink, but enjoy the feeling of having the top 2 layers of skin die. Move to outdoor bath. Notice old Japanese lady in bath. She notices us. She leaves.

After sento, find a random restaurant and eat. Go back to hotel. Fall asleep.

Monday, September 24
Awaken to the sound of loud American and Australian backpackers talking about nothing. Check out of hotel and take bus to Kyoto station. Find omiyage (souvenir) store and fork out 1000 yen for the obligatory edible presents all Japanese work colleagues expect upon one’s return from afar.Take train back to Gifu . Celebrate when we find the car still in the car park. Officially declare the trip a success!

Ayu Party

I just came back from a very Japanese experience. Actually, a very Gifu experience. One of the Japanese teachers of English at my high school invited me and the other ALT, Khaleelah, to an ayu-eating party. What's ayu, you ask? It's 'sweet fish', a small river fish that is a speciality of this area. They like to boast that it only lives in clean water, hence the Nagaragawa River, which runs through Gifu, must be incredibly clean.

Anyway, this trip was interesting in more ways than one. Mari-sensei was supposed to pick me up at 4pm. A little after 4 I got a phone call. Her: 'Hello. Sorry I'm late.' Me: 'That's ok, no problem.' ....[silence]... Her: 'I'm waiting for you.' I hadn't seen a car pull up or anything. But I went outside, looking for her car, and 2 minutes later found it waiting at the corner 100 meters from my house. heh

After that we went to pick up Khaleelah, then took some very narrow roads towards what must be the wealthy area of Kakamigahara. We ended up stopped in front of a house. I guessed it must be her house, although she hadn't said anything about going there. The place was like a fortress. You would have though we were in South Africa, not Japan. There were rolls of barbed wire below the windows, a high fence, a metal gate with a chain and lock wrapped around it, and two burglar alarm lights. Mari-sensei pressed the intercom and after a full-on conversation with a man who I guessed must be her husband, he emerged from the house, unlocked and unwrapped the chain, and we were permitted to enter. We went into the house, changed shoes, as per usual, and walked into the living room. One object dominated the space- the TV. It was... monstrous. I can't think of a better word. Not big, not huge, monstrous. A plasma TV of 3 meters by 1.5 meters, I'd say. And appropriately for Japan, the baseball game was on. To the left of the couch was something that can only be described as an electronic horse saddle. It was a black leather, fake horse saddle, stirrups and all, mounted on an electronic base. No horse to be seen. Apparently some kind of exercise equipment. Maybe they watch footage of rolling hills on the plasma screen while they ride this thing, to imagine they're horse riding...? Anyway, after sitting and gawking at the TV for 5 minutes, Mari-sensei's husband announced it was time to go. I don't really know why we went to their house in the first place; maybe so they could let us see their TV and horse saddle!

We arrived at the riverside restaurant 40 minutes later and walked into a room full of Japanese sitting on the floor, obviously waiting to start eating. But of course they couldn't start until everyone was there (we were the last to arrive). I sat down next to Hiramitsu-san (Mari's husband), on my knees, so as to be polite, whereupon he immediately told me I could sit cross-legged (only Japanese men are supposed to do this). Considerate of him! After pouring our drinks and toasting ('Kampai!'), we tucked into the Ayu. All-in-all, we ate 6 fish each. The first pair of fish were simply grilled. The second were deep-fried and the third were coated in a miso sauce. They cook the fish bones, organs and all, and usually eat the head. I couldn't bring myself to do that, but the rest of the fish was delicious; it really does have a sweet taste. Of course, during the the meal, I was praised for my skillful use of chopsticks (if you are non-Asian and make any attempt to eat with chopsticks in Japan, someone will inevtiably tell you this). I was also asked if fish was daijoubu (ok). Um, yes.

In what must be true Japanese style, we came, we ate, we left. No languishing over beer or after-dinner chatting. You come to do the job, and when it's done, you go home. The drive there and back was as long as the meal itself.

Speaking of the drive, that was also interesting. Mari-sensei's car is unbelievable. It has a GPS navigation system and TV. It also tells you the mileage you have accomplished every 5 minutes. And best of all, it has a camera at the back so you can see what's behind you when reversing, and estimates the angle you will need to turn the wheel in order to clear things. Oh, and it's so quiet and smooth that it feels like you are in a hovercraft, not a car. Khaleelah and I joked that Honda, Toyota, etc. send their old, crap models to the West and keep the better ones for their own country. Another thing about the drive was that it was a team effort between Mr. and Mrs. Hiramitsu. She was driving, but he would tell her what to do every step of the way and say 'ok, ok, ok' if she was doing it right. And there didn't seem to be any complaining or sentiment of 'Shut up, I'm the driver' from Mari-san.

On the way back, we stopped at the Nagaragawa river in Gifu city, where they do cormorant fishing (ukai). This is an ancient tradition in which men go fishing off boats... BUT... they use birds (cormorants) to do the fishing for them! The birds do it for themselves naturally, but in cormorant fishing, about 8 of them at a time are tied onto leashes and when the dive for fish and bring them up, the fishermen take the fish. I don't understand why the cormorants cooperate, but they do. Some of the fish they catch are ayu, the very ones we ate tonight. Anyway, they still do some fishing the old way in Gifu, on long canoe-like boats, only at night, with a lantern of fire to light the way. And the fishermen wear the traditional clothes as well- including funny-looking elf-like hats. It's really almost a sacred practice, because you must be authorized by the emperor to do ukai, and positions are passed down through families. It's now big tourism business, so there were other boats following them with tourists on board. But when I saw the ukai-fishermen floating down the river with the flame guiding them, it looked kind of spooky and you could really imagine how it might have been 500 years ago or so.

So now I've eaten ayu and seen ukai! My Gifu experience is complete, at least according to the tourist brochures...