I can’t imagine which of my dear readers wouldn’t know that I’m stateside once again, but I’m putting it out there just in case.
After heading home via Sydney and Fiji, I’ve been staying at my parents’ house until my evil plan comes to fruition: moving into Christopher’s house, securing employment wherein I can indoctrinate young minds, and managing regular exercise.
Some time in the near future will feature a few entries (new, but backdated) to fill in some of the gaps in the Japan saga.
Well, I’ve officially left Tomioka, but not before cutting a wide swath or leaving my mark or something like that.
Currently, I can be found in Saitama, staying with my host parents until July 7th. From there, it’s off to Oceania! By which I mean Australia and Fiji.
As I write to you, dear readers, I am sitting in an internet cafe in Akihabara, the otaku’s paradise, with the taste of my maid-cafe-made dessert still on my tongue. It’s quite a life I lead.
As dearly as I love my middle school students, I despise my first Monday morning class of toddlers – not so much as a whole, but due to this one little stinker that drives me up the fuckin’ wall. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
This weekend found me in Saitama and Tokyo, visiting the host parents and swanking it up in Tokyo Bay, respectively. One of my friends scored some tickets to a two-hour yacht tour with booze and food and all that, so we got ourselves all fancied up and floated down the river on a luxurious boat not unlike what you’d find in a Bond film. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, since I would have either been too nervous to approach him or I would have been too drunk and made an ass of myself, Daniel Craig was not in attendance.
At any rate, it was perfectly lovely, and I met a great many interesting people and managed not to alienate anyone. Kudos to me!
The ship came in a little later than expected, as so I missed my train to Tomioka. I shacked up with the host parents for one more night, slept almost not at all (due to assorted reasons including too much imbibing), and then staggered home the next day on 4 different trains.
And so, Monday began. This first class I mentioned earlier – they were there, as usual. I wish they could somehow manage to all be absent at the same time, but that’s pretty unusual. So, they were all there, including that one, the three-year-old (I know, THREE? Honestly, people, wait a year) that doesn’t really understand what a classroom is. On average, she leaves the classroom for no apparent reason around 3 times a week (in a space of only 50 minutes), spends a lot of time just laying on the floor, or interrupting me to say a bunch of stuff that has nothing to do with anything. (I know, I know: I should be grateful she’s not a little terror, ripping posters off my walls, poking my groin [common among preschoolers here], or something worse, but dammit, I have standards, you know?) Anyway, for her, class is an utter waste of time, but I imagine the idea that she’s in a room she doesn’t have total control over is a foreign concept to her – a lot of young children here are totally spoiled a fawned upon. Japan must have one of the highest tantrum rates per capita here, because I can’t seem to go a day without witnessing at least three or four.
So yeah, she often will get up and stand, inches from my face (I usually kneel when teaching this class), and do various things to get my attention, despite the other two kids that are trying to learn something.
Oh, and did I mention that this week was parents’ week? The parents are fine – it’s the extra, younger kids they bring with them in the classroom that drives me over the edge. So there was that. And then, when my students were doing their coloring, my little angel just sat there, babbling about something or other, and I said, “Okay! Let’s clean up!” And after finally getting her to respond, I see that she’s colored (with her greasy, oil-based crayons) all over the table.
I absolutely, unabashedly love my middle school classes here. The worst-behaved students I ever had were just quiet, in that “too cool for school” kind of way, but they never swore at me, or screamed in my face like American students I’ve had.
Currently, all of my middle school students are utterly delightful. They are kind, work hard, and we have a pretty good rapport with each other. Recently, I’ve managed to get a few honest-to-goodness laughs out of them.
This evening, we were engaged in a workbook activity focusing on “kind of” and “I like to ___” “Do you want to ___?” etc., centered around movie and television genres. As per usual, the illustrations in the book were totally stupid and low-budget, because the folks at the publishing company didn’t want to pay royalties for pre-existing movie posters, AND they don’t have the funds for an even mildly talented design team. I used to wonder if the middle schoolers thought the book was as incredibly idiotic as I do, but even the more ridiculous things illicit no reaction from them. Not surprising, considering most of my students are exhausted by the time they show up at 7 or 8 at night. I assume they just take it all in stride.
Students were asked to label the “movie posters” with their apparent genre:
This is a... piece of crap.
I asked one of my students a few questions while we were waiting for the other student to finish her work.
Me: What is your favorite kind of movie?
Masaki: I like action movies.
Me: You like action movies? What is your favorite action movie?
Masaki: [Here, he pauses for a moment, and then refers to his textbook] My favorite action movie is “Bye-bye, Bad Guys.”
Recently, I discovered a delightful little town in Gunma by the name of Kiryu, about 90 minutes by train from Tomioka. The town in usual for assorted reasons, but one of the more interesting aspects is that it’s a mountain town, but not an onsen or temple town. This is someone unusual for larger cities, at least in my neck of the woods. By and large, cities in Japan tend to be in flat areas because it’s easier to build and farm rice. Keep in mind that most towns/cities in Japan are really old, so it was unusual for people to settle in the mountains once agriculture and complex societies developed.
View of Kiryu city from the park
Other outstanding features are as follows:
Numerous prehistoric archeological sites
A plethora of pre-WWII architecture (one place we managed to miss in the carpet bombing)
Forest and mountain adjacent (as in, you walk five minutes and you’re out of town and an actual forest)
Free zoo (of questionable quality, but still)
Cheap amusement park
An artsy-fartsy young people vibe, not unlike Portland, Oregon, but with much better Japanese food.
Billboard for a photography studio - isn't this every girl's dream?
Kirin Beer!
My first day trip out, I had a bit of a late start, so I really only scratched the surface of what Kiryu has to offer.
In that time, however, I managed to find a 300 year old intact shrine (unusual in this area – many were destroyed by fire or bombing and have since been rebuilt) totally covered in amazing carvings,
Carvings on the inner shrine at Tenmangu Jinja, from the 1790s.
visit the tiny zoo,
Papa pig asleep.
WWII Zero at the zoo.
have a delightful conversation with a couple of locals at the small, oddly familiar boutiques (I think they actually had a couple things from Oregon in there) one of which was about to close its doors forever,
Meet my little friend.
and hike around the park and nearby mountains.
Sunset
Park!
Oh, and I also went to this awesome cafe in a 100+ years old farmhouse.
Dinner time at the Basho Cafe
My next adventure roundabouts Kiryu was a bit more action-packed: I decided to take a ride on the old Watarase Keikoku railway – formerly the transport line for the Ashio Copper Mine, operating from the 1600s to 1973. Obviously, the train line was a fairly recent development in the mine’s history. Oh, and the mine dumped a bunch of waste into the river in the 1880′s, which was really bad.
View from the train
These days, the train line and mine operate as tourist attractions. Simply riding the train is pretty cool, is it winds through the mountains of northwest Gunma and southern Tochigi along the (apparently) no longer polluted river.
I rode the train to the end of the line, Matou, and wandered around for the 30 minutes it took for the train to head back. I found a nice trail through the woods that ran parallel to the train tracks and almost missed my ride because of a high fence keeping me from the station – only 20 feet as a crow flies.
A street of houses all like this one.
Next stop was Ashio, where I assumed the copper mine could be found. Alas, it’s just a clever name, but I did find the Meiji era boarding house that was built as a place for important muckety-mucks and their ilk (some sumo wrestlers, for example) to stay when conducted important business around the mine, I guess. As any rate, the building was cool – a mix of Western and Japanese architectural styles.
Fancy!
Gorgeous mix of Japanese and western architecture.
Telephones through the ages.
Switchboard operators back in the day.
Coolest stove EVER, and it comes with a novelty eagle!
I feel sorry for the actual historical people this represents, but this is the most fantastic mannequin ever!
Next stop: Tsudou, the actual home of the Ashio Copper mine. Truthfully, these two stations were both in the town of Ashio, but you’d think they’d name the stop nearest to the mine after the mine. I think they just want to confuse the tourists into spending more money going to more spots, but whatever. On the way to Tsudou, I passed the remains of the actual mining part of Ashio – settling ponds, ruins of factories and employee houses, and other cool, ghost town stuff. This would have been the place to explore, had I the time and tetanus boosters.
The mine tour had us all pile into an odd little train/mining car thingy that drove us about a hundred yards before depositing us not too far from the mine entrance. From there, we walked. Diorama with historically costumes mannequins illustrated miner life, but the best part was the added sounds and lights. I didn’t understand most of it, but I took some cool pictures.
Many miles straight into the darkness
Me and a miner - a drunk one, I think
This is how they ate lunch back then
Trying my hand at drillin'
Umbrellas at the train "station" (a cinderblock shelter, really) for visitors to borrow if it rains.
I was tossing around the idea of going for a 9k hike up to a waterfall, or at least that’s what I thought the map was describing to me. The weather was nice, and I had the time, so I decided to stop in Konaka for the hike. When I got off the train, there was no apparent trail from what I could see. I realized what I had thought was the “trail” was actually the river on my map. I found a path leading up through the woods, so I followed that. After ten minutes, I emerged on a hilltop with a few farmhouses and gardens, and still no idea how to get where I was going.
Bridge to the waterfall
A farmer nodded as I passed, and I decided to ask for directions. He had a funny dog – like if a German Shepard, after its thighs have been removed, crawled inside a Corgi skin. Its head was too big, its legs too short, and this made it confused and mildly irritated at everything else in the world. At any rate, my conversation with the farmer went something like this:
Me: How do I get to the waterfall?
Farmer: That’s pretty far from here.
Me: Yeah, 9 kilometers, right? That’s okay. I don’t mind the hike.
Farmer: There’s not really a trail.
Me: What about the road?
Farmer: I don’t know… it takes a car maybe… an hour, at least a half hour to get there. Walking would take you maybe three hours one way.
Me: Uh… what about this area? I could just walk around here.
Farmer: Not really anything around here to see.
Me: Oh.
Farmer: Did you come on the train.
Me: Yeah… Are you sure? Nothing.
Farmer: [Pause] Hold on a minute. [He steps out of the garden, goes and washes his hands. He is thinking... I assume he is going to get a map. He checks the time.]
Me: I could walk part of the way, I guess…
Farmer: [Standing by his truck] OK! Let’s go!
Me: What? Um… it’s okay. No trouble.
Farmer: Ah, it’s fine, fine.
And off we went. I know, I know, dear reader. You’re thinking, “What in the HELL WERE YOU DOING?!? Getting into the car of a strange man! You’re going to get killed.” I guess you had to be there.
When I asked to take a photo of us, my farmer friend first put out his cigarette out of politeness. I was like, Dude! You are way too nice.
We chatted about life in the area. According to him, there wasn’t much industry in that neck of the woods: farming wasn’t too good because of all the mountains/severe weather/monkeys and boars, and there weren’t really any nearby cities. The town I was in had one store half the size of a 7-11 and nothing else. I suppose someone like me was pretty exciting, as I was to find out when we returned from our foray.
He dropped me back at the store near the train station, and two children (belonging to the shopkeepers, no doubt) considered us as we discussed by next move. The girl, probably eight and a little chubby, was wary but interested. The farmer told her to go check the train times, which she did quickly, knowing the results would bring more amusement. It was soon discovered I had at least 40 minutes until the next train. The farmer thought for a moment, and I told him, “It’s okay, I don’t mind waiting. Are there any restaurants?” He laughed. “Nothing around here.” I told him, “That’s okay, I have a book.” But this was unsatisfactory: he said, “There’s a nice little trail right over there, down by the train tracks. It’s pretty interesting.”
Orange drink
We bid each other farewell, and the farmer drove off. I walked down to the train tracks, where a trail forked to the left and right. I wasn’t sure which to take, when I realized the girl was a few yards behind me. She trotted to catch up, directing me to go right. “The trail goes down and around. You’ll come to a red bridge. You should turn around before too long, though, OK?” She handed me a can of something orange from her family’s store and said, “OK! See you later,” grinning broadly, and with authority.
She watched me until I disappeared from view, and satisfied, went back into the house.
I found a spot along the river by the bridge with a familiar, rocky beach. All the bugs were out and skimming the water.
So close to Eagle Creek
My final stop was Mizuma, an onsen. The only thing of note was when I dropped my hundred yen behind the counter. The clerks hefted the counter aside and found three coins: a one yen and two hundreds. They asked me if I’d like the second hundred as well, and I said, “Oh, it’s not mine.” They laughed and said, “No matter! You can take it.” I put it in a donation box for local environmental efforts. Oh, and there were pretty Christmas lights up all over the station.
This entry is one that I’ve struggled to write about. It was incredible, and kind of defies description.
At any rate, here are some photos, an interactive map (click on pointers to see notes about each landmark), and a journal entry about the first day of my 5-day trip from May, 2010.
The great yonder
I don’t know where the intense love of cycling that I’ve developed while living in Japan comes from. I know that some of it is the freedom of mobility – I can go farther, faster, but I can also go places a car can’t (not that I could drive myself anywhere anyway). I think this freedom of mobility is something I’ve never really known before, being someone whose never been able to drive. I guess too, that I love it because I move with my own power. I like the independence and feeling of self-reliance.
So, anyway, I decided to ride my bike as far as I could towards the ocean for vacation – maybe not the entire way, but I wanted to go pretty far. The road along the Tone River (Toh-ney Gah-wah), which flows from northwest Gunma to the ocean) is flat and paved (or it is mostly, as I was to find out later), and more or less continuous. I booked my hotels in places I thought would serve as suitable weigh stations, duded out the bike, and off I went.
My supplies included 3 shirts, assorted leggings and tight underwear, a bike pump, compact energy foods, a first-aid kit, a spare tire, and other crap
I thought I’d planned ahead sufficiently with the Japanese cycling book I bought, which featured sections of the trail I was to follow. I also printed out maps of spots where I had to change to the highway, or switch from the north to the south side of the river, and vice versa. On a whim, I bought a couple road maps of Gunma and Ibaraki prefectures, and in the end I used these almost exclusively.
Day 1
Mr. Imai poses with a crab leg
First, I woke up too late, having stayed up with co-workers and my boss at a crab tabehodai, where I managed to light an entire book of matches accidentally. It was really hot.
My Urban Rain matchbook rendered useless in one fell swoop
One of the brain crabs trying to escape through my mouth
It took me far too long to print the numerous maps, which I ended up not using after the first few proved useless – the ink was too light, and many of the roads weren’t labelled. Then, it began to rain, so I had to get some rain pants. My intention was to set out from Tomioka at 8 or 9 AM, but I didn’t make it out until at least 10 or 11.
The map I had printed was mildly helpful, in that I knew the name of the road I wanted to be on: Route 17, but I wasn’t sure how to do that. Route 17 was easy enough to find, but large sections of it had no shoulder and plenty of traffic. I had to settle for riding near to it until I could get onto the next road.
After much confusion, I decided I was where I needed to be, but then I realized my cycling book was not all that clear or helpful. This became especially evident when the Japanese cyclist I asked for help couldn’t make heads or tails out of what it was telling me to do. Incidentally, he was experienced with the cycling roads in the area, AND I assume he could read Japanese, therefore, it was a piece of crap! After puzzling over the damn thing for almost half and hour (as we stood by the road, propping up our bikes with our hips in the hot sun), he eventually decided I needed to backtrack slightly, make a few turns, and then I’d be there – the actual bike trail. He gave me his phone number, and his name, Takasaki, made me promise to call him if I got lost, and then we parted ways.
Sure enough, I made it to the trail and rode down it triumphantly for about three or four hundred meters, only to find that a large section of it was under construction. What the hell?!
Construction
After riding around for another fifteen or twenty minutes, going down various roads only to find deadends, asking construction workers for directions “Just take this road back a ways and then turn at the vending machine”, I managed to find the trail again, and off I went. It was quite nice – lots of cyclists out that day, and part of the trail went through a forested park. I was thoroughly enjoying myself, until I realized I was on the wrong trail.
Sigh… what followed was a lot of riding down roads, turning back, going another way, only to find I was going in circles. Attempting to use my compass only made things more confusing: the Tone was running east or southeast, depending on where I was on the map. Unfortunately, I wasn’t exactly sure where I was on the map. ANNNND, there was at least one other river running parallel to the Tone, adding to the confusion.
I stopped by a cafe with the cutest dog ever, and the cook came out, despite the fact that she was in the middle of cooking something, and gave me directions to the river. This was done in the usual Japanese style, she making sure I understood things perfectly while disregarding her own concerns and those of her customers. Still, this was only moderately helpful, since I wasn’t sure how to get back on the damn trail. I wasted about two hours riding in circles (see the map), until I finally decided to get back onto Route 17 through Saitama. This would take me to another highway that crossed the river and, I supposed, the bike trail.
On the road again
Sure enough, after checking at a convenience store (a Family Mart with a very cheerful young lady, apparently glad for the novel distraction: “Just head down about one kilometer, and you’ll see another Family Mart right at the intersection! It’s right where you want to go!”) to make sure I hadn’t passed it, I found the highway and the trail, again! At this point, it was about 3:00 PM, or four hours from starting, and the wind was not on my side. It was an absolutely gorgeous day, though, and the bike road was up and away from the car traffic. Oftentimes, I couldn’t see any cars, and between the river and I, the land was turned into parks or left more or less wild. The sheer number of model airplane enthusiasts – all older men in groups of four or more – was a bit baffling. I also saw a young man standing next to his parked car, with a music stand and a saxaphone, practicing.
From here, it was smooth sailing to Ibaraki and my first hotel, or so I thought. Now, dear readers, I must backtrack a bit.
When I was planning my trip, there was a dearth of hotels in the area immediately near the trail, so I had to look pretty far to the north and south. I found a couple towns with quite a few, but I thought, “I’ll bet it would be smart to go a little more than halfway on the first day, so it’s easier on the second.” And here it was, dear readers, that I made my first major mistake: I picked a hotel that was much more than halfway – it was about 3/4 of the way there, or about 90 miles from my starting point, give or take. Also, it was much farther from the river than it looked on the map.
Returning to Day 1, things were going pretty well, despite the wind blowing against me and the four or five hours I’d wasted trying to find the damn trail in the first place. Round about sundown, 7:00 PM, or 8 hours from starting, I came to the end of the Saitama section of the trail. From there, I needed to take Route 354 up into Ibaraki and to my hotel. And into hell.
Sunset
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I stopped in the bike park to ask for directions. A local family was chatting by their car, and when I asked about the highway, they invited me to use the GPS in their car. No luck, so they asked me where I was going, specifically. They typed in my hotel address and gasped in disbelief when the GPS told them it was 40K away. Since it was getting dark, they were pretty concerned about the distance, until I told them that I’d come from Tomioka that morning. They hemmed and hawed for a while amongst themselves, and then I realized what they were planning to do. They cleared out the trunk of the car and tried to put my bike inside. No dice. I was disappointed, because I could have used the break, but then they told me there was a truck at their house nearby. The mother would walk me to it, while the son and daughter-in-law (I assumed) would drive back.
On the way, I told the mother all about my work and life in Tomioka, and how I’d lived in Saitama before. She was mightily impressed, and spoke slowly so I could understand everything.
At the house, the son hoisted my bike into his truck, and the ladies and I piled into the car to drive to somewhere along the 354. In the end, they drove me about 15K, and dropped me off at a 7-11 in Ibaraki, all the while asking if I’d be okay. It’s alright, I’ve got a jacket. Earmuffs, too. I won’t get cold. I have a map. I’ll ask if I get lost.
It was great.
New friends
From there, I rode along the 354, which was great at first, when the bike lane was as wide as a car lane, separated from and raised above the road, and the street was well-lit. I flew down this with nary a care, dear reader, nary a care.
Soon enough, however, it narrowed and darkened, and instead of a lane there was a shoulder, walled in by a scary cement meridian that jumped up and down out of the road as I passed driveways and parking lots. Sometimes the surface on which I rode was regular pavement, and sometimes it was foot-long cement slabs used to cover the ditches along the road. These ditches are deep – about nine inches to a foot – and the slabs are sometimes oddly spaced, causing gaps. I had before encountered roads with missing slabs, a hazard that, if I encountered, would cause a bad accident. Fortunately, I didn’t run into that on this trip.
Returning to my nighttime slog down 354, the traffic was screaming past, and I thought, “If I can do this, I can probably do pretty much anything.” Right about then, the cement wall jumped up again, and my front tire was too close, sheared the edge, and I fell off my bike sideways. There were multiple things about this that were incredible. First, there were no cars on the road at the time, and second, flew off my bike onto my helmeted head (which made an unsettling loud sound when it hit the pavement), and I didn’t have any injuries. Not even a bruised elbow. It scared the shit out of me, and I was shaking all over, and the moment I stepped off the road a motorcycle doing about 120kph flew past. Lovely!
Back on the road again, this time a bit more cautiously, and a bit more slowly, even though I really wanted to get to my damn hotel.
The road continued on like this for a while, until finally the bike lane/shoulder disappeared all together. The speeding cars were replaced with speeding frieght trucks, and there were no street lights. The car lanes continued right on up to the guardrails, and there were no streetlights. So, that sucked.
Fortunately, I met up with the river again, and I hopped up onto the bike path. I zipped down it, happy to be in one piece, when suddenly, the 354, my path to the hotel, turned abruptly away from me. This was one of the many times I felt the urge to cry or scream or something, but it passed quickly. Really, getting upset served no purpose, since it inhibited my ability to ride, and I was the only one who was going to get myself to my hotel. I pulled out the map, and further up, there was a road that cut across easily to the 354 and came out near Mitsukaido, where I was to find my hotel. Okay, that’s not bad. It can’t be more than, what? Thirty minutes maybe? An hour, tops.
The next hour or so was sort of a blur, but there were almost no lights around. There were silent, dark houses on the edges of the flooded rice fields, and the sound of the frogs was almost deafening. The moon was full, and it was pretty cool, considering.
I eventually found my road, or something like it, and made my way over and up to the 354. I’d called the hotel about three times by this point, to tell them each time I’d be an hour later than the last time I told them.
Sorry, but I’m coming by bike from Gunma.
Be careful, be careful! Don’t worry, we’ll wait for you.
There was a point, under an overpass, and I was pretty sure this was it: follow this road a little while, then it crosses a highway, which leads up to 354. Dark houses, no street lights. Where the hell am I? The road went on and on, and then there was some light. Well, maybe I passed it hours ago. No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t.
And then there were more houses, and signs. And intersection that was probably right – it was the biggest one yet, and the right number of roads…
I came to a spot that was pretty rural, but there were a few love hotels and bars. I thought about staying at one of the love hotels, but I’d come too far, and the old couple was waiting for me. I stopped in at one of the bars with lots of trucks parked out front, in the hopes of meeting another kind soul who might shuttle me part of the way. I did find a kind waiter who helped me as best he could, puzzling over my map for a while, making a mark to show me where I was: “The 354 is about 10 minutes north of here, but to Mitsukaido… I don’t know. Maybe 20 or 30 minutes by bike.” The clock said 10:15.
I was so fucking exhausted. For about the millionth time, I imagined myself in my hotel room, or soaking in the bath, laughing about my insane trip. I’d been riding for about all freakin’ day, and I was ready to be done. I think at this point I was moving at a crawl, focused solely on getting one hoof up, over, back, repeat. Blargh.
Going into detail about the state of my body and mind at that point would be redundant. I reached a point where the road rose up in front of me, like it does for an overpass or bridge. The waiter from before had pointed a river on the edge of Mitsukaido – was this it? I pedaled as hard as I could, which was pretty pathetic by then, too afraid to hope, but daring to try, dammit! I was going make there be a river through sheer force of will! Wa ha ha! I climbed to the top of that fucking bridge (as that’s what it was, my dears), and the bluish street lights popped into view. I laughed and laughed. I was so happy. I didn’t know where my hotel was, but I didn’t care. Everything was fine and lovely.
At the hotel (not easy to find, since it looked nothing like a hotel, and the sign was in kanji! Hooray!), a little old man greeted me and rushed me up the steep stairs (the hotel, he explained, was over a hundred years old, all heavy beams and joinery) so I could dump my stuff and make it to the bath before it closed. I was just shy of 11PM.
After my bath, I actually felt pretty good. Tired, but nothing hurt. I was probably energized from the elation of making it all the way there. My friend from work, Dan, called me to ask how I was doing – he’d decided to come out and meet me in Ibaraki in the next two days. I told him about all the crazy shit that happened, and I had a good laugh. He was beside himself, but I guess you had to be there.
The comfiest futon in the world, in the softest, nicest inn I'll ever encounter.
Route 6 and 294 - a major intersection on my trip! I had to commemorate the attaining of this goal with a photo. From here, it was a striaght shot to Chiba. Naturally, I went north instead of south, catching my mistake after 20k or so.
Ah ha! Much better.
Rice paddies - a common sight in both Chiba and Ibaraki.
Itako, Ibaraki. I took the train here from Fusa, Chiba. Itako is known for its canals and iconic canal boats. The locals, dressed in traditional boatman garb, pester tourists for rides.
Crabs!
A famous park in the center of Itako. The flat, dirt sections are actually fantastic iris gardens in June, and the canals wind through the park. The bridges, while old-fashioned, were built very recently.
Day 3
Guess who got suckered into a boat ride.
I guess only the people selling you the boat ride wear the cute costumes. The people that actually steer you around don't. Also, the boats are all motorized. What?!
The train station for the beach where I planned to meet Dan. By far the longest name for a station I'd ever seen.
Cement geodes at the ocean. But don't worry, dear reader - most of the beach was covered in sand and shells.
Close-up of the very pretty beach.
Fugu. Don't touch.
Yay, friends! Dan rode his scooter all the way from Tomioka in one day to meet me out at the coast!
There were a mess of surfers out that day, so Dan and I just sat and watched them for a while. It was especially pretty, with the sun setting behind the mountains, causing the waves to turn orange - something I'd never seen at the beach before.
Sunset. I took the train and he drove back to Itako. My train transfer took and hour of waiting at the station, and the traffic was so bad, we both managed to get back to Itako at almost the same time. Afterwards, Indian food for the third night in a row!!!
Day 4
Dan and I parted ways – he heading north, and I going back more or less the way I came. I took the train from Itako to Fusa, where a tiny festival was transpiring! Naturally, I had to partake just a bit.
Freshly-made kinako mochi at the Fusa-matsuri. Delicious!
Small Fusa-matsuri - reminded me more of a local festival in Oregon than a typical Japanese setup.
Mothra! I think this may have been a plaster model the kid painted himself at the festival.
An incredibly common sight, there were groups of old men model plane enthusiasts up and down the Tone throughout my trip.
Bender? No, it's an irrigation control robot.
Koi-no-bori, or carp streamers, for Boys' Day. Families with sons display them throughout May.
The same park where I met that nice family. They weren't there the second time.
A "highway" station on the border of Gunma and Saitama. Highway stations usually have local goods and specialities, and this one had expensive goldfish in cheap plastic sandwhich bags. I wanted to rescue one, but I didn't think my backpack was any better, really.
Construction site. And this one isn't as gratuitous in its signage as some others I've seen.
The following clip requires a little explanation:
After riding for about eight hours (with breaks), I finally approached what I thought were cities. Here, it would be easy to find a hotel, right?
No, unfortunately not. The “cities” were small towns off in the distance, and I’d have to go pretty far out of my way on a chance that I’d find something. Instead, I headed up into Gunma, departing from the Tone road, to the large city of Ota.
Somehow, I managed not only to entirely miss Ota (I don’t think I went far enough), but I found myself so far away from anything resembling a city, I added another hour or two onto my already overlong day. I finally found a gas station still open at whatever time it was. There were two people working there: a young-ish woman and an older man – they interacted like father and daughter (perhaps they were). At any rate, I asked for directions to a hotel, and the woman was almost aggressively friendly. She said there was a place nearby – a business hotel:
Man: I don’t know of anything like that…
Woman: No, you know the one, it’s called ___
Man: Hm. Oh, yes. Are they open?
Woman: I think so. It’s down this road. Head west, so turn right…
Man: I need some paper. Let me draw a map.
Woman: Here.
Man: Now, where is it?
Woman: On highway __, past the bridge?
Man: Do you think so? Are you sure?
Woman: Yes, yes!
Man: Okay, so from here…
Woman: Turn right, and then get onto highway ___…
Man: What would you say, about 20 meters? (as he draws and writes 20m)
Woman: Yes, that sounds right…
Man: Wait, no. It’s more like 30 meters. (scratches out 20 and writes 30)
Woman: Is that so?
Man: Yes. And then the bridge… this is not totally accurate…
Woman: But you get the idea, right?
Man: Okay, now you be careful. It’s right after the bridge.
Woman: A business hotel, ___.
Man: Will you be alright?
Woman: Be careful! You look very tired!
Man: (Handing me the map) Here you are. Be careful, eh?
To find out what happened next, look at the map, and then watch the video.
After visiting the squirrels and bunnies, I lost my wallet for the sixth or seventh time in Japan (left it at the bus stop!), and then retrieved it, utterly intact and without difficulty with the aid of various strangers.
From there, Kana from Global Sports Club (remember part 1, dear readers?), took me and a trio of Saitama-ites to the volcano for a jaunt around the caldera. All along the trail were tunnels leading to nowhere, which I now regret not having taken any photos of.
The last sound you will ever hear.
At any rate, they’re for hiding in when all the huge boulders come shooting down the side of the mountain. As you approach the summit, there are fewer and fewer, until there are none. I guess if you’re up there when the end comes, it’s pointless to prolong the inevitable, smashy,magma-y end that is waiting.
To illustrate this point, a coffee shop that used to stand on the edge of the older caldera was completely subsumed by magma during the 1986 eruption. Remarkably, the Shinto shrine nearby was left unscathed, despite the magma passing within inches of the building. Luck, or kami-sama, you be the judge.
The black rock (covered in snow) is the cooled volcano guts. Literally a hand's breadth in some spots.
Enjoy cool photo time:
Natural lava rock formation that looks like Gojira if you stand in the right spot, which I didn't.
Drippings in a lava tube. Until fairly recently, there was public access to one of these caves, but now it's closed due to danger of collapse.
The other Oshima islands from the rim of the caldera
Steam rising from the moist, hot rocks heated by all those volcanic insides lying in wait just beneath the surface.
The latest caldera, from the eruption in 1986. Quite a few lovers dove in there together.
Kana, stuck in the knee-deep snow
After the mountain, we hiked down into the craziest forest I’ve yet been to. The ground was entirely volcanic rock, so the possibilities for flora were fairly limited. There was this one particular tree that grew everywhere, under any conditions. If you cut it off at the base, six more grew out of the trunk. Needless to say, having no soil to set its roots in provided no obstacle.
One of the aforementioned super-trees with a super-tumor.
The coolest part of the forest was the labyrinthine paths, either natural or man-made – I don’t know, through the lava rock. Snaky tree roots clung to the sides of narrow passages as deep as we were tall. While we failed to encounter any, rogue monkeys wander around in the woods too (escapees from the local zoo). When we finally parted ways, I was surprised by the granddaughter, who up to that point had sulked her way through most of the trip, replying to various questions from myself and other in monosyllables, when she smiled brightly and waved a vigorous good-bye, as if we were the best of friends. Apparently, she thought I was awesome. That was nice.
I made it back just in time to see the sunset over the hamanoyu onsen, and I sat soaking for the next hour as the stars came out over the ocean. And then the trio from before – the grandmother and her two charges – appeared. Let me take this moment to say that, unlike almost every other onsen in Japan, this one required bathing suits be worn. We chatted politely, but you know how it is when you say your good-byes to someone, thinking you’ll never see them again, and then there they are, over by the tomatoes. The girl was fascinated with me for some reason (and I’m really not bragging – it was kinda weird), and she stared at me the entire time they were there, unless I looked in her direction, at which point she would try to subtly avert her gaze.
Sunset from the oceanside onsen.
Once again, we said our good-byes when they left, and that was that, or so I thought.
But no! Nearly twenty minutes later, in I come to the changing room, and they are STILL THERE! Here I was, faced with a situation I never had to deal with before – getting totally naked in front of people I kind of knew, but I wasn’t really friends with. Now, nudity in front of strangers (in my case, women) is fine, as it is with friends, but Japanese people I’ve made polite conversation with, one of which is a preteen, is just fuckin’ weird.
Moving on…
Dinner - day two. I got seconds on the sushi.
I found a delightful sushi restaurant with a statue of Gojira and a lobster tank with the biggest lobster I’ve ever seen. The chef and I chatted it up.
Wa ha ha!
Stone statue in the park
My final day would be spent biking, as I had planned. I rented a mountain bike, which I felt absolutely ridiculous riding on the road, not because it was not a road bike, but because mountain bikes in Japan tend to look completely stupid. Like a Humvee going down a suburban street with nary a mountain or terrorist enclave in site. This thing had shocks on it. Shocks, people. I mean, really?
I rode north up the coast line, on a path that more or less hugged the shore. All the beaches are black rock and severe, with huge, jagged rocks rising up out of the water. Not a beach to be trifled with. It was gorgeous. I spent at least an hour listening to uguisu and watching the freighters pass by.
I’d like more idle time to do things like this.
Northwest coast - the sun came out a little later.
When I could go no further, I struck inland, and explored all the one-lane roads cut into the dense foliage. The trees and grass come right up to the edges of the road, and they are impermeable, threatening to swallow up any abandoned buildings or neglected tracts of land. And they did, and it was awesome.
Inland - by bike!
At 2:30, my ship came in. For the return, I booked passage on the slow ferry – about five hours to Tokyo. My accomadations were totally awful: essentially a greyhound bus seat facing a wall in the sub-basement of the ship. The windows on this floor were all covered. Instead, I sat up outside on the deck, and in all that time, I never got bored.
This ship spends its time wandering around Tokyo Bay, eating the lesser ships (you can see one in front of it, and no, that's not an optical illusion, it really is that big).
Sunset. I couldn't tell if that was Fuji-san or a cloud -
and it somehow managed to become more spectacular.
My final day would be spent biking, as I had planned. I rented a mountain bike, which I felt absolutely ridiculous riding on the road, not because it was not a road bike, but because mountain bikes in Japan tend to look completely stupid. Like a Humvee going down a suburban street with nary a mountain or terrorist enclave in site. This thing had shocks on it. Shocks, people. I mean, really?
Recently, one of those rare, precious vacation periods came up (three consecutive days!), so I was off to Oshima island for some adventure. Inexplicably, Oshima and its chain of brethren is part of the Tokyo metropolitan area, but thankfully, the islands are nothing like that craphole. Actually, Oshima is nothing like any part of Japan I’ve yet seen, which made it more pleasant and refreshing than I had anticipated.
So, anyway, I reserved passage on a jet foil (a ship with a fucking jet engine!!!) from the city of Atami, set to depart at 10AM. This required getting up at 5AM and riding a hell of a lot of trains, and I still only just made it. Upon arrival to the island, I was greeted by a very handsome man from the Global Sports Club – a diving outfit with English-speaking guided. He didn’t really speak much English, so he was a bit quiet until I said something in Japanese. “Oh, is Japanese okay for you?” he asked me over the rattling of the van (it was used to ferry customers to and from their dives, so everything was covered in plastic, including the seatbelts, so I guess people just hang on to something…) I told him it was okay, I spoke a little.
I love you.
After arriving, we were greeted by the two cutest dogs ever, and the most laid-back and most contented Japanese people I’ve met in Japan. I imagine being a professional nature guide (scuba, mountain-climbing, and whatever else they did) in Japan is a much-envied and rare position to find oneself in. I immediately decided I was in the wrong line of work.
The dry-suit - always flattering!
Ishida (my guide) went over the finer points of diving: I’d be wearing a dry-suit (as opposed to a wetsuit), which has air pumped into and out of it. Would it be okay if he adjusted the valve on my chest. Sure, handsome! I’d have to take deep, even breaths, so no panicking. Okay… The water pressure would be pressing on my eardrums constantly, so I’d have to release the pressure to prevent my eardrums from getting damaged. What?!
Once I actually made it to the water, I couldn’t keep from laughing constantly – I was so excited about and so terrible at what I was trying to do. I was made to wear about 20 pounds of weights so I didn’t float to the surface, and Ishida swam above me, his arms wrapped around me to constantly adjust the valves on my suit. Awesome.
I wanted to touch everything, even the stuff I knew I shouldn’t, like the giant fugu swimming in front of me. Was that really a blowfish?! I reached out, and Ishida waved his hand to indicate, “NO!” I did the same thing with the sea urchins and eels. He did pick up a couple of sea cucumbers and toss them over to me like they were footballs. That was a little weird. A big, purple football with an anus on one end. And then there were these little sea plants/animals that lived on the rocks, with delicate, feather-like appendages that swept the water for food, presumably. We brushed them with out hands and they shot like reverse puffs of smoke into their little barnacle-shaped holes.
We both spotted the sea turtle at the same time, and he was so excited, I could hear his voice making excited sounds. Suddenly, we picked up speed and pursued it, until it finally outswam us. Ishida and I waved good-bye.
After the dive, everyone suggested I go to the local coffee shop, so Ishida dropped me off with an umbrella and bid me farewell. The coffee shop was a geodesic dome – certainly not the first thing I expected to see in a tiny island town, but whatever. I was stuffed to the gills with hand-carved, -forged, -printed, and -etc. crafts from the locals, and all of it was exceedingly cool. The best part was the gaggle of obaachan that were conversing excitedly over all the news of the day. One of them eagerly approached me and tried her best to speak excellent English, as I assured her it was. We chatted for a bit, while all of her companions watched and clucked their tongues in adoration. After a moment, my new friend conferred with the others, and it was decided that they must all buy me an omiage. I tried to pick the cheapest thing I could that I actually liked, and they made me pick out something else.
The welcome wagon
After this, I decided I should head on down to the indoor onsen, and it was here that the weather turned foul. Seriously. I was like being in a hurricane. It was all I could do to keep my umbrella from staying inside out, the rain poured down, the freezing wind blew (and I do mean freezing, as in snow), and the sky turned black. I hid out in the hot water for an hour or so before venturing out again, after the storm had passed. Dinner was fried fish, miso with fish, and fish salad. (Did I mention I had sashimi for lunch?)
The northern port of Oshima
In the morning, I woke up to a delightful breakfast of broiled fish, fish soup, and some non-fish food items – delicious! And so, it was off to the flower park and squirrel zoo. Oshima is known for its camellia flowers, and March is right at the end of the blooming season. The flower park was pretty spectacular, although the best feature was a grassy hill covered in violets with 180 degree view of the ocean and mainland Japan.
Camellia garden
The previous night’s storm had blown away all the haze, and Fuji-san was clearly visible from the island.
I eventually made my way down to the squirrel section, where creepy little forts have been constructed out of logs, and they are jammed packed full of psychotic, horny squirrels. It was a warm day, so most of the critters were laying in the sun being mounted by their more energetic counterparts.
Before the melee
I paid 100 yen for an oven mitt and a packet of sunflower seeds to feed them, but they didn’t seem all that excited at first. Eventually, the fat ones came out – you know the little bastards that probably shove the weaker ones out of the way so they can stuff their fat faces with a few more seeds, and the party started. The little log fort erupted with fur balls, and one of the fatter little shits jumped on me. After shaking it off I backed up, far enough so they couldn’t reach me from the fort. Then I realized they were watching me from the tall grass. It was like Children of the Corn – I could hear them skittering and chirping to each other. I eventually gave all my seeds to on squirrel and headed out of there.
Furry evil
I stopped by the rabbit pen for the last few minutes before my bus came, and I wished I had spent time with them instead. They were softer, gentler, slower-moving little creatures, and a hell of a lot cuter. Also, they couldn’t crawl up my pant leg.
Lots of fun with my buddies these days, whether we are eating icecream (three scoops in one trip!!), drinking in tiny bars with bat-shit crazy strangers (who turned out to be minors!), or drinking cup after cup of tea while making copies and lesson plans late into the night (okay, I do that by myself)…
At the moment, I’m still trying to figure out where I’m going to go from here. I have it narrowed down to a few different ideas, but in the end, it really comes down to who will take me.
Votes?
Pro
Con
California
Close to Colin
Lot of outdoor things (at least where I’m going)
New and exciting!
The sun comes out.
Farther from family
Sales tax
Not licensed
Washington
Closer to family
I think they have jobs there, more resources for public schools
Crappy weather
Meh.
Oregon
Close to friends/family/etc.
Familiar territory
Already licensed
Some jobs, maybe
Been there
Crappy weather
Not really a lot of jobs
New Zealand
It’s fucking awesome.
And did I mention, it’s AWESOME!
Long, elaborate certification process
Farther than Japan
UK
See above
See above
And, have you SEEN these peoples’ teacher aptitude tests. Unreal.
Japan
Familiar territory
Close to host parents.
I like it here
Adventure!
No work
Far from family and friends
All the cement stuff gets depressing after a while.
In other news, the weather has been getting nicer, after the SNOW last week, yes, snow. It’s been sunny the last few days (‘cept for when it wasn’t), and I’ve been meaning to get out more. Then there was this cold. Boy, that sucked. Anyway, I made it over to Shimonita. It all started where I thought, “I wonder what’s by that bridge over there… -” that one past the other one – the farthest point west I’ve been on my bike, maybe. So, I went and saw.
I really was there
I first came to the edges of town, with assorted shrines and temples. Despite my intent to go straight on to my goal, I did as always and let myself get side-tracked. After hiking around a temple or two, I went up to a shrine (that housed another, older shrine) and found a narrow trail snaking its way into the woods. It led up a hillside, along the spine of a mountain. On the south was bamboo, and on the north was pine. As the wind blew, the bamboo rubbed against each other, making a whining sound that I at first took to be wild pigs.
Further down the road and around a bend, I came to the bridge. The river was pretty, but further on looked more interesting, so I followed a little, winding road from a small clutch of houses on into the woods. The road became wet and mossy as I entered another pine forest reminiscent of something around Eagle Creek. Eventually, I came to a tunnel, short and straight, or so it seemed, and I thought, “Well, I can keep going or turn around.”
About a quarter way in, I realized how dark it was (I couldn’t see the walls or ceiling or ground, for that matter), and how much longer it was than I had originally thought. I had no light on my bike (still in my bag), and if a car came, I would, at best, be embarrassed and the cause of huge inconvenience, and at worst, I would become one with the pavement.
I imagined myself years later, at a party, where someone says, “What was the scariest thing you ever did?” And I would say, “Actually, it was also the stupidest thing I ever did…”
On the other side, I came to a path leading into the woods. This one had a sign in Japanese telling me to go one way or the other. It went pretty far in, all the way over, actually, so my bike was to come along with me. Further on, the path forked: one way was easy and wide, the other was steep and narrow.
best friends.
You can guess which way I went – I mean, was I going to have an adventure or not? And I did. And I came out on the other side, into Shimonita, and back to the highway, and back home, after 7 or 8 hours.
Excellent.
I’ve had a knee injury that’s been giving me problems for over a year – the kind of thing that comes and goes when I’m not paying attention, but serious enough that I’d always wanted to see a doctor about it. Of course, I haven’t had anything resembling affordable health insurance since I was 24, so I only go to the doctor when I’m dying from some sort of infection (like that time I got staph IN MY FACE).
Anywho, since I have public health insurance (all residents are required to have either public or private – public is just automatically deducted from your paycheck every month – for me it’s about $100 a month), I figured I might as well take advantage of it. I went to the local muscle/joint clinic near my house (you can’t spit without hitting a specialty clinic, hospital, or dentist in Japan) to make an appointment for my knee. After the initial difficulty of trying to communicate what was wrong, the nurse asked if I had time right then. Well, sure, why not? So, 10 minutes after walking in the door, I was talking to the head doctor about my knee. He sent me in for x-rays, which took another 15 – 20 minutes, including the wait time. Then he talked to me some more (nothing wrong with the bones, dear readers!) and gave me some advice and a prescription for some joint medication.
Well, crap, thinks I. I only have a few bucks in my wallet, but I assume they must do some sort of payment plan for the bill, right? Nope. She hands me the bill and expects me to pay right there. It’s 3,010 yen (a little over $30) for my examination and x-rays. I almost laughed out loud. What?!? How can this be? I guess my insurance pays for a larger percentage than I thought.
Next, I head over to the pharmacy across the street. No line – they take my prescription and I take some free tea and sit and wait for all of two minutes. Out comes a pharmacist, with a form to fill out. She asks if I can read kanji. Nope. So she fills it out for me. Next, another pharmacist comes out and explains the medication in detail (little pads that stick to my skin). When I don’t understand, he explains it again until I do. I am utterly flabbergasted with the price for my meds: 960 yen (about $10).
The real shock comes later. When talking to one of my students, I tell her how cheap everything way. “Of course,” she tells me. “With your insurance, you only pay 30% of the total cost.” Do the math.
