Japan Photo Special

 

Stress on Vacation

 

Toilets are pretty advanced in Japan, as I've mentioned before. They will sing to you, they will wash your butt, or your front-butt, if you prefer, and sometimes they are a video game and you win if you hit the right targets with enough force.

 

But sometimes they are just downright practical, like the one pictured here. In order to save water and space, I think. The sink is attached and only activates itself when you flush. Which, for the anxious Minnesotan(!) only creates the following stresses:

 

1) hurry!

2) is the water dirty?!

3) hurry!

4) like, is it recycled poop-water?

5) it's attached to the toilet...

6) HURRY!!

 

 

Why is life so hard sometimes?

 

Pretty Girl

One of my favorite things about me is my Herpes Simplex 1. Remember me though? I'm unique! Have you even SEEN how I spell my name? Well- MY Herpes Simplex 1 is so unique that in fact that I've never gotten any on my lips or mouth, but rather, in and on my nose. I have been so lucky in recent years because most of the time I get them inside of my nose, and even though those ones are really painful (blowing my nose-ouch!), I prefer them because nobody can see them. Once in a great while though, and usually when I least want one (Maid of Honor at Kasey's wedding, vacation, etc.) I get them on the outside of my nose.

I got a real beauty last week in Japan. It has six clumps of blisters. Six! Yay!!

 

So nice to meet you!

Oh, yah. I forgot. Don't be scared!

 

 

I gotta tell you though. Japan was the perfect place to get one! Half the population walks around in these funny surgical masks. I thought they were for like prevention of colds and then I heard that people who have a cold don't want to spread it because they're polite or maybe they have bad allergies and THEN I heard that some people just don't want other people looking at them. Who knows? Who cares? Look at what a PERFECT Herpes Simplex 1 cover-up they make!

 

 

 

You can go real incognito, man.

 

My only complaint is that they're real hard to breathe in. I modified mine, and then another added bonus was that people could tell when I was smiling.

Dummy.

 

Japolite

I fell in love with Japan almost immediately and I still haven't figured out if it was because I had just come from India which makes Japan seem even cleaner, and more sanitary, and more polite. Do you know why the Japanese wear surgical masks? Not because they're afraid of getting sick. But because they're sick and they're afraid of getting YOU sick. Lovely people.

 

But this? This takes it too far:

 

 

It took me three stores to figure out that these cloth bags go over your head so when you try on clothes you don't get make up on them.

Nagano

The way that I travel does not lend itself well to planning ahead. It's really not possible to buy expensive guidebooks to do research and learn everything about multiple cities/countries and I couldn't be bothered anyway. (Too lazy and too cheap.) Instead, my strategy is to trust the other travelers that I meet and find out as much as I can from them about what to do. I was chatting with a mother-son traveling team in Kyoto and that's how I learned there was a MOUNTAIN. IN JAPAN!

 

Well, duh. They had the Olympics there. I forgot. Whatever. I can't remember everything I ever know. So I rearranged a few things with my loose itinerary and headed up to Nagano on my way to Tokyo from Hiroshima. (It's not on the way.) While I was there I was able to rent a complete snowboarding get-up and borrow a pair of cozy big socks from one of my hostel mates.

 

Rented. All but the coffee.

I woke up early and hopped on a free shuttle to the mountain. I buddied up with three friends from my hostel (the socks girl and two Aussies). The girl with the socks had a lesson and so she broke off from our group leaving me with the two dudes. Well, it's not their fault they have no snow in Australia and had only been a handful of times. I regretted my decision to hang with them pretty quickly. I ended up waiting for them a lot and finally had to part ways and spend the rest of the day by myself. After all, I spent way too much money on train tickets and a lift ticket and equipment to spend the whole day sitting on my butt waiting.

 

And then I got in touch with the nature.

 

Best. Day. Ever.

 

Miyajima Island

Just outside of Hiroshima, Japan, there's a beautiful little island called Miyajima that's totally worth a visit. It takes about an hour from the A-Bomb site, but it's an easy tram ride. And if you're like me, you can totally snooze open-mouthed and snoring and get woken up by the tram driver and you're there!

 

And then you get to take a ferry! (I love ferries.)

 

 

Upon arrival to Miyajima, the first thing you'll see are the zillions of deer walking around willy nilly. I saw little kids petting them and so I figured it might be OK, but you know, deer are vicious creatures and I couldn't be certain it wouldn't turn and maul me so I played it safe.

 

Vicious!

This torii gate at high tide appears to float on the water.

 

I was traveling with a couple of dudes from Australia, and we decided to meet at the island and hike up Mt. Misen. It's only a couple kilometers up and back down, but the guidebooks said it takes four hours to do it round trip. We decided we didn't have enough time before dark and so we took the cable car most of the way up, hiked to the summit and then RAN back down.

Hilarious!

View from the rope way. (Cable Car.)

As if I hadn't just ridden the cable car 80% of the way up.

 

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Frozen Bike Ride in Kyoto

Do you feel sorry for all these people I force to take my photo?

 

I had romantic visions of riding bicycle on my entire trip through Eastern Europe, Sri Lanka, and India. And why shouldn't I? I became quite the hipster cyclist wannabe last summer in Minneapolis.

Well, it didn't quite work out that way and I only ended up going for one sad little hour-long ride in Nepal. One ride in almost five months. Pathetic! So in Kyoto, Japan when I saw a flyer in the hostel lobby for $2 off the $8 daily rate I agreed to it in my mind before I even considered the weather. Or the walking distance from my hostel to the rental shop. Who cared? I had nothing else to do.

Ooh I froze. Well, I had no socks. Or rather, I refused to wear the sneakers which had become attached to my feet in India and Nepal with their human feces-exteriors. I was determined to try to look a tiny bit cuter in Japan. No sneakers meant either flip flops or ballet flats, which could not EVER be worn with anything but the tiny little socks you wear inside to keep your feet from stinking.

Yah. Sneakers would have totally ruined this look.

 

Aside from the freezing weather, I had a blast and saw lots of Kyoto's sights. I went to my first Starbucks since leaving the US and saw the man with the extreme combover picking his nose. I went to the Imperial Palace but couldn't tour it because I didn't have a reservation. But that was OK because I rode all around their gorgeous gardens and I saw a man having a picnic with his cat and that made my day.

Then I rode up to the Kinkaju-Ji (the Golden Pavilion) and at a stoplight on the way met a handsome American on a bicycle who asked if I was on vacation. When I said yes, he said he lived here and then rode off. Well la-di-da.

Ooh my feet were cold. I stopped in a few gift shops on the way looking for socks. I was cold enough not to care anymore about socks inside ballet flats. Every pair was Hello Kitty and $10. Highway robbery!

The Kinkaju-Ji was fantastic. Absolutely gorgeous. I hung out there forever and imagined myself walking around in there in wooden shoes and a kimono 500 years ago.

 

After that I rode down to another pagoda and the TV tower and another temple and in the end I think I rode for a total of five hours. It was weird, because it took me about an hour to figure out that Kyoto drivers do not want bikes on the road. You're supposed to ride on the sidewalk! Totally illegal in Minnesota. But, when in Rome...

 

 

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The Red Gates in Kyoto

...or in Japanese: the Fushimi Inari. I was excited to visit this shrine not only to see the thousands of Red Gates, but also because it included a 4k round trip hike to the top of a mountain made up almost entirely of stairs. I was still 47 pounds short of my weight loss goal for the wedding I would be attending as soon as I got back home to Minneapolis, and I figured with this and a bike ride around Kyoto, I should have that covered.

I was told to expect 2.5 hours to make the loop all the way to the top of the mountain and back. But I didn't have that much time so I moved quickly. Much like most responsible Everest Summit groups before me (which I learned by recently reading Into Thin Air by John Krakauer), I established a drop dead turn around point. If I hadn't made it to the top by a certain time, I would have to start my descent, no matter how close I was to my goal. Fortunately, I made it to the top with time to spare. On my way back I came across many tired tourists on their way up as I ran, ran, ran down the mountain.

With a renewed surge of energy, I would taunt them (never even knowing if they spoke English) with such heckles as "What's the matter? No energy?" or "Tired already?" As I Sally-O'Malley-one-two punched the air next to them! and then kicked!

One kid laughed and laughed and then said, "you look hung-a-ree!"

A few photos:

Spectacular views of the city are not done justice with this photo.

Of course I had to do a #hexumhat

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Fashionista She Ain't.

I have never been "good at fashion". I come from the very northern part of Minnesota, from a very poor family and nobody taught me. I had clothes of course. (You know, "BOXES of Esprit clothes under the steps".) And my mom always dressed us pretty cute when we were little. But like, fashion. It's never been my strong point.

I'm also not very "good at packing". So you can imagine how my outfits come together when traveling. In fact, they don't. When I left for my first extended travel trip, what I shoved in my backpack ended up being essentially what didn't sell at my garage sale. So it was a mish mosh of items that made no sense. Tops that didn't go with any bottoms. Three pairs of jeans, but traveling exclusively in tropical climates. That kind of thing.

I ended up wearing things like this in public: (I guess you never know when you'll need to start running.)

Exhibit A.

A few weeks after the above photo was taken I arrived to Singapore, where it was incredibly hot and sweaty. I went shopping at a store in Little India and ended up buying several new shirts and dresses. "Burn this," I told the shopkeep, throwing my yellowed-armpit white t-shirt at him as I strutted out of his store, head held high. I loved everything! I was amazed that just $100 could make me feel so good about myself. I met up with Summer a few days later in Thailand and she made so much fun of everything I bought. When I looked at my new clothes through her eyes, I was humiliated. It was true that I purchased everything because I thought their fabrics looked 'cool' ('cool' as in 'less sweaty'), and didn't really realize that everything was pretty ugly. See exhibits B and C:

 

Exhibit B.

Exhibit C.

 

To prepare for my current trip and determined not to make the same mistakes, I enlisted the help of a friend who manages a J. Crew to help me pick out some stuff so I wouldnt look so dorky. And I think she did a great job. For the most part in Europe, I felt OK. Cute, even.

 

When I left for hot, hot India, I sent all my cute cold-weather clothes home with my cousin Ross, but then it got cold and I regretted the decision almost immediately. I only had one pair of pants and two sweaters and ended up wearing them for three weeks in northern India and Nepal:

 

I resolved to spend my first day in Japan to buy at least one cute outfit. I picked up some really cute checkered pants. I saw an orange down coat that looked very attractive to me at the time because I was so cold. I couldn't tell if I liked it or hated it, but I put it on and it was so warm. I left the store and decided I hated it. It was cute, but wasn't the coat of a 35-year-old woman, and certainly not the coat I wanted to leave Japan with.

I walked around Tokyo feeling embarrassed, but toasty warm. And then this happened:

 

 

 

 

 

I give up.

 

 

 

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Misdirected Cynicism

In India, it was nothing for me to put my Nicaraguan finger wave right in people's faces, and even less to look someone in the eye and say, "DON'T LOOK AT ME". It's been a little strange to come to Japan, the land of polite. I've been marveling at the marked contrast between the two countries.

While at the Hiroshima museum, for example, I was looking at a display case in which a pocket watch and belt buckle were kept. I was cornered by a man in an official green vest who approached and asked me in very broken English if I was from Australia. I shook my head and said "America." I was annoyed and skeptical and so I didnt really make eye contact. I kept waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop, however I had no choice but to let him hand me the headphones attached to an ancient FF-only cassette tape player. I should have finger waved him and marched past. But it was too late and I waited forever as he pressed Play, then waited some more as he realized the tape needed to be flipped and then flipped the tape over and adjusted the volume and then pressed Play again.

"Hello." it began, in an American voice. "I am [so-and-so], and I am helping to tell the story of Minoru Hataguchi".

Oh, Brother.

The tape continued. Minoru donated the pocket watch and belt buckle to the museum. They belonged to his father, who was just 31 on August 6, 1945 at 8:15am when the bomb hit. When his mother, 29 didn't hear from her husband for four days, she travelled into the city to the train station where his father worked. She rifled through the ashes and found the pocket watch and belt buckle under an overturned safe. She gathered a few bones and some ashes she found nearby and brought them home with her. She was pregnant at the time, and so Minoru is a confirmed Hiroshima survivor.

I still didn't look at him. Was he going to ask for money?

The tape concluded. Minoru removed a laser pointer from his pocket and showed me on the map how far his mother had to walk to the train station, and also how far the train station was from the epicenter (1.7 kilometers). I finally looked him in the eye. He smiled. I smiled. He just wanted to share his story. Embarrassed, all I could muster up was to quietly say "thank you" to Minoru and walk away.

I started crying and didn't stop until I left the museum. Thanks a lot, India. You've really made a wonderful person out of me.

The box contains the names of all of the victims. In the background, an eternal flame burns. It will continue to burn until all nuclear arms are destroyed.

 

140,000 people died by Year's end 1945. People just like you and me. Three days after Hiroshima, the US dropped a second nuclear bomb on Nagasaki and killed an additional 150,000, half of which died immediately and the other half later from injuries sustained. The US, France, Russia, and The UK are still testing nuclear arms on a regular basis. The mayors of Hiroshima since 1968 have sent letters of protest each and every time they are made aware of a nuclear arms test, a copy of each hangs in the Peace Memorial Museum. 559 letters have been sent to date.

Oh, and a google search informed me that Minoru Hataguchi is the director of the Peace Memorial Museum.

 

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Okonomiyaki

This is just the most yum thing. It's a Japanese pancake called Okonomiyaki. It's got noodles, cabbage, mince (no idea), egg and sweet onions and sauce and yum.

Here's a recipe.

You cook the pancake a little and then add all the stuff on top. It's TALL, but it cooks down.

Egg on top.

Green onions on top. They flame broil those.

 

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