So I like to hike, you already know that, but what you don’t know is what propels me to climb the next mountain.

The challenge, of course!

Now, in America this challenge is not very challenging as there are maps, blogs, pictures, and road signs aplenty. The only hard part is getting out of bed before 8am and deciding if you want grape or strawberry jam on your peanut butter sandwich. Sure, some mountains have a higher or faster rate of elevation gain, some trails are better maintained than others, and some require a 4-wheel drive vehicle to access the trailhead. These things are chump change compared to what I deal with in Japan. The language barrier kills you. Then try not owning a vehicle and all of a sudden you can't do ANYTHING without a ton of preparation. I pretty much felt like Mighty Mouse after this trip just for completing it with no major complications or calls to the rescue squad. (Not that we could...more on that later). 

Hiking in Japan as a foreigner who knows little Japanese requires preparation, planning, studying, and a little luck. I wrote a bit about it from my Adatara experience but this one was a little more involved as it required a two-night stay on the mountain. Since being stranded on a mountain was not how I wanted to start my vacation I asked Okubo sensei to call the mountain hut for me and make the reservation just in case I missed something in translation. I found someone crazy enough to go with me: Rachel.

We started out easily enough on the 8am train, walking to the station with our friends who were headed to Tokyo and Thailand for break. Parting ways we skipped up north on the world’s slowest bullet train ever. It stopped at everyone’s lemonade stand and garage sale on the way to Shinjo, a grueling 2-hour ride through the otherwise beautiful mountains. It was so slow that it cost LESS to ride up there than the short 1 hr train south to Tokyo. We transferred trains at the station only to realize that Rachel had left her cellphone in the seat pocket of the train! We talked to the station staff and they agreed to hold it for the next two days until we came back on our return route home. 

Taking two local trains we finally arrived at the quaint town of Nikaho or “Kisakata.” We bee lined to the beach and changed into our swimsuits in the wash building. On every dedicated swimming beach there is a changing building with men’s and women’s sections, toilets, and a foot wash station. American music featuring “Call Me Maybe,” the summer’s popular selection, was blasting through the loudspeaker. It was gonna be a great day.

Already p.m. we didn’t waste time getting in the water. We ended up running into a group of high school girls participating in an exchange program with their Japanese sister school in that village. The Americans were from Anacortes, WA! It’s a small world, after all.

We ran to the water’s edge and I gingerly dipped my toes in the next wave to lap on shore. It was warm! Why, hello Sea of Japan!

We brought a beach ball and enjoyed chasing and hitting it across the waves as we swam in the salty sea. After two hours of leisurely activity we changed and headed back to the station to catch our only bus up the mountain at 3:30. We met some fellow hikers on the bus. One man lent me his book written by an ancient samurai who had visited the area hundreds of years ago and wrote haiku about the flora and fauna. It had been translated into English.

After 45 minutes of switchbacks we arrived at the trailhead, two large parking lots with a few cars, vans, and campers. Three buildings were situated on the side of the mountain: The cafeteria/omiage building, visitor center, and sleeping lodge. We went to the lodge and checked in with the friendly manager. He brought out a huge bowl of fresh cherry tomatoes for all the guests to enjoy and we sat around watching the Olympics.    

Even though we’d packed enough food for dinner, we made the easy decision of visiting the cafeteria and had a nice plate of curry and rice before sitting on the grass to watch the sunset. The afternoon clouds blew away and revealed a lovely sunset across the Sea of Japan. Hundreds of dragonflies flew about, darting between hikers and photographers set up to watch the horizon. Simultaneously the full moon rose behind Mt. Choukai, lighting up the twin peaks with promise and tranquility. 

We were tired by p.m., what with the long travel and expending energy on the beach. However, we were stubborn and played a game of cribbage to put us in bed past the acceptable 9 o’clock hour. We grabbed futons out of the closet and slept soundly until 4am when the sun came streaming through our east-facing window. Good morning! Others in the lodge woke up too and started getting their gear together to climb the mountain. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em! Since we were already awake and had to climb the mountain anyways we decided to set out early and were on the trail by 6am.

It was beautiful.

Stone stairs led the way up through the tree line and out into an open side of the mountain. A patch of snow was stuck on the side. Morning glories, thistles, mountain bluebell, foxglove, and other things I don’t know the names of adorned the trailside and alpine fields. 

There were plenty of other hikers, mostly retired age, but it was never crowded and easy to pass or be passed. We took our time up to the first mountain hut straddling a ridgeline. On one side the dramatic dropping slope to the Sea of Japan and a beach riddled with elegant windmills, the other an alpine lake stood before miles of valley and a distant Yamagata mountain range with snow-capped peaks. You should have been there. 

The sun was out in full force and showed no sign of being covered with pesky clouds. So we put on sunscreen.

Part two continued along this ridgeline until stopping for lunch on a log. I’m not sure how the log got there since there were no trees….

After lunch we reached the split in the trail, choosing to go left up the inside of the crater and then continue clockwise around the edge of the crater before returning to the same spot. A mini loop hike, essentially. It climbed up and down some rocks, a ladder, and along a steep ravine edge. We came down to a snowfield that had to be crossed, but a rope had been installed for guided travel. On the other side we met our friends from the bus who saw us crossing the snowfield and decided to wait for us. They also took pictures of us coming! We chatted for a few minutes before exchanging addresses as they promised to send us the pictures they’d taken. We continued across the ravine floor and traversed another snowfield. We finally reached the crater wall and started the ascent. Up, up, up the side of the wall we switch backed and climbed the rocky trail with the sun at our side. The greenery had long since faded to brown shrubs and rocks…of course. At last we made it to the last mountain hut where people walked around good-naturedly. A shrine and “bio toilets” completed the little compound. But that wasn’t the summit. No, the summit was another climb bouldering up rocks to places we couldn’t even see. This summit was a mini adventure trail easily circumvented by a connecting trail that would lead you straight to the rim and back on the circuit home. No thanks.

We bouldered up the rocks like little mountain goats and noticed the awesome formations made by the volcano. 

Then we reached the canyon. Well, it was a canyon to me. It looked huge and ominous. If you’ve seen 127 hours, it looked like they could have filmed it here…and now the little painted arrows are telling me to climb down there?! Little red flags started waving in front of my eyes. Despite the clearly marked trail into the death trap I refused to believe the evidence until I asked a Japanese person,

“Is that REALLY the trail to the summit?”

“Yes.”

Oh. Rats.      

Once I got over the terrifying prospect of pinning my arm between rocks and being stuck for 5 days I had fun climbing down the canyon and then climbing back out and up to the summit. It was so clear and beautiful I can’t even describe it.

We traversed yet another snowfield that went down the saddle of the twin peaks, this one more steep and treacherous than the last. We slipped a few times even with the use of poles. Up the side of the saddle we went to the twin peak for posterity’s sake and then began the long walk along the ridgeline home. 

After a time I felt like I was getting burned and should reapply some sunscreen. I unscrewed the cap and rubbed it in with the opposite hand. All of a sudden a sharp pain from my leg caused me to catch a huge fly creature sitting there eating me. With my non-lotion hand I swatted at it and it flew off, but not before the cap I was holding bounced off of a rock and fell doooooooown a black hole in the rocks. Crap. What do you do with a capless bottle of sunscreen?! Rachel put some tinfoil from her sandwich around the top and I stuck it inside my empty carrot stick bag. Hopefully it won’t be a bag of sunscreen by the time we get back.

We joined up with our original trail at the split, but soon split off again to take advantage of a trail around the alpine lake we’d seen earlier. This was probably a bad idea since Rachel was super low on water and I wasn’t far behind. Large stacks of wood placed right in the middle of the trail by a helicopter further set us back. They were building materials for a nice plank trail system but hadn’t been built yet. And the trail was on the steep slope of a mountain…hard to just walk around them. When we finally reached the lake it was a little disappointing, hot, and we were thirsty and tired. My left hip was hurting really badly. Another junction in the trail prompted us to take the shorter, direct route back to the first mountain hut…and straight up the side of the ridge. It took seemingly forever as the sun blazed overhead and we picked out a trail from the rocks and grasses. When we finally reached the top at the hut we used the toilets and got back on the main trail home. I took my dear sweet time, nursing my hip and taking a little siesta in the middle of it. Poor Rachel was about to die of dehydration and made it back to the lodge as quickly as she could. Slowly I made it down the last leg of the mountain finally reaching the comforting sight of the lodge. Bed! Water! They called to me. I drank a full liter straight off, and another one within the next hour. My arms actually burned…I can’t even remember the last time that happened. 

We spent this evening watching the sunset again, eating the last of the tomatoes and watching the Olympics…but no cribbage. We didn’t care that we were in bed by 8 o’clock this time, more than happy to turn off the lights and rest our aching, burning bodies.

Up with the sun again I ate my pre-made pancakes and we got on the 6:30 bus down the mountain. There are only two buses each day. We had planned on spending several hours at the beach and coming home late that night, but since we couldn’t spend any time in direct sunlight without pain we cut it down to 2 hours. The area outside the swimming area was filled with white boats…but no people in them. Keeping a weather eye on the scene we spotted the fins of divers on the surface of the waves. I’m not sure what they were diving for though. A few families came to park on the beach and we left to catch our train…and pick up Rachel’s abandoned cell phone. We came back to town without a problem just a little tired and burnt. I unpacked and threw everything into the laundry because it had to be packed the next day—Mt. Fuji!

What do you know about Japanese music? One of these things might come to your mind:

1.     If you don’t know anything about Japanese music, you’re probably thinking about sumo wrestlers and ninjas hollering “Banzai!” at the top of their lungs. Or karaoke.

2.     If you’re into manga and Japanese anime you’ll have no problem listing a few J-pop bands like Exile or Bump of Chicken, probably even a few Korean groups that are popular in Japan.

3.     The folks with a scholastic background might think of indigenous instruments like the koto or shamisen, or traditional Japanese songs that are endeared by the retired Japanese population. Enka.

4.     If you’re super eclectic about music you may know the stray Japanese punk or indie band that’s trying to make it big out of their parents’ garage.

5.     But NONE of you would say “gospel.”

Little does anyone know that gospel music in Japan is a steadily growing genre among middle age Japanese. I don’t have any written facts to back that up, just my personal observations from attending concerts and talking with various people.

When I first came to Japan I learned that one of our teachers was the leader and director of a gospel group that met twice a month at the community center. It was a sprightly group of about 12 members. Sometimes more, sometimes less. This group has been meeting for 3-4 years singing at community events for occasional performances. The repertoire is exclusively religious though spanning a noticeable range of “gospelness.” For example, the stereotypical “Go Down, Moses” makes way for the old hymn “Amazing Grace” yet charges through to contemporary gospel compositions and arrangements like “Lord, You are Good.” For a nation largely ignorant of Christianity and its roots, it was very surprising to learn of the popularity of gospel music.

Japan is known for intricacy and devotion in their work and civilian lives. They are proud to be set apart by their uniqueness and cohesiveness as a people—it’s how they survive. They are also adept at taking foreign ideas and physical items and modifying them to fit in a Japanese world. Actually, it’s more like evolving these things to become acceptable to Japanese mainstream. Gospel is no exception, and since the religious and personal meaning of gospel music is largely lost in translation it becomes simply a musical experience. The lyrics are an exercise of English pronunciation, the beat a test of clapping on 2&4, the music a beautiful arrangement of harmonies and breakout soloists, and the style a step outside the comfort zone as they’re encourage to stomp, sway, and follow the leader’s arm movements. These musical differences are indeed an enticement to the average housewife looking for an hour out of the house, or the hard-working office lady in need of a fun hobby with good friends. The retired fellows add one more activity to fill their weekly schedules. The people who attend gospel are well-meaning, kind-hearted, and very interested in gospel music. They love learning the interpretations, singing in either Japanese or English, and love filling the air with beautiful sound. However gospel has not escaped the ruthless evolutionary gauntlet imposed on all foreign entries. It has been stripped of religious significance and set up as “just another genre” that anyone can sing successfully if the right amount of practice and devotion is dedicated. If you’ve been to Japan I hope your experience has been like mine; Japanese people on the whole are very kind, thoughtful, helpful, and go above and beyond our American standards of service and sometimes even humanity. Gift wrapping in a store is expected. Giving someone directions means you TAKE them to that place, even if it’s out of your way. They’ve made an entire industry in omiyage, which is bringing back presents and treats to your entire office and every one in every group you are affiliated with (PTA, boy scouts, piano teacher, gospel choir members). I recently bought a stack of books in Tokyo and the store offered to send them anywhere in Japan for me for free so I wouldn’t have to carry them home on the train.

I do not doubt the intentions of Japanese gospel singers; they want to be fully participating and understanding of gospel music. My point is that Japanese people are very accommodating and friendly, and they tend to add things instead of delete them to avoid confrontation and save face.

Oh, you can’t make English class anymore because you added a math class to improve your failing grades? Let’s just not show up anymore but keep the name on the roster so that it looks like you still want to take English classes. At the end of the year you can formally withdraw.

Oh, you have conflicting schedules between hula dance class and photography? Just do half-time at both of them so that we can see you're really trying to be there.

Oh, you have Shinto and Buddhist beliefs? That’s cool. You should join a Christian gospel choir to even things out.

Now, I’m being a little sarcastic but don’t make the mistake of thinking these things don’t happen…because they do. To my knowledge, none of the Japanese members in our gospel choir are Christians. They know my American friends and I are believers in Christ and they understand that the message of gospel music is to essentially proclaim Christ’s love for the world. However, in true Japanese fashion they take the parts they want and change it to fit their culture. You don’t have to believe it on the inside as long as the outside looks compliant and harmonious.  

Link: Christianity in Japan

I am happy to share my deepest beliefs with anyone who has an interest and sharing it through music is even more desirable. I love music! I’m not regretful at all of being a part of gospel choir or even now as the director, leading the choir through each practice session and teaching the pronunciations and meaning of the lyrics. The part that makes me most sad is that there is no feeling behind the words. There is no belief in the power of God. There is no heart singing praise to the Lord of Creation, no lips uttering thanks to Jesus for taking the responsibility of death for our wrongdoing against a righteous God, no hands raised reverently in awe of the love of Christ. Instead there are voices filling the air with sound. There are eyes carefully watching me, copying my movements in effort to be in sync with the group. There are swaying bodies and hands tenaciously waving in the air to mimic the gospel groups they’ve seen on youtube.

No heart. No soul. No emotion.

Is that not the epitome of all music ever? It doesn’t inherently belong to the gospel genre, but any musician who is void of those three things can be immediately spotted and blacklisted by the casual listener. As the leader of Funehiki Gospel Choir, practices can be a little disheartening when the music becomes no more than notes on a page.

A member of my choir is very dedicated to gospel music and frequently attends workshops and concerts. She informed me of a particular one in nearby Iwaki, though not being able to attend herself another choir member and friend, Manri, went with me. We drove out to the coastal town previously ravaged by the tsunami and cast into tourism darkness because of the nearby reactor crisis. Tourism is back on track with the reopening of The Hawaiians, and the beach is cleaned and ready for swimmers and surfers…though it was somewhat lacking visitors that holiday morning. We walked along the beach picking up shells for my garden decorations. We saved a starfish from certain death in the shallows and sent it back to the ocean after taking a few pictures with our textured friend. The waves were shallow and strong, the gulls flew overhead with their familiar high calls. I looked out to the east as far as I could see to say hello to America…somewhere out there. After learning how to say, “This is a broken shell. This is not a broken shell,” in Japanese and walking along the beach for a few hours we returned to downtown Iwaki and into the concert hall. Looking at the program I realized the enormity of the concert. 4 hours long, no intermission. The entire northern region of Japan sent local choirs to the festival and because of the sheer number of people involved, they had to conglomerate into 4 mass choirs of no less than 100 people each. The kids had their own choir. The city of Iwaki had their own choir of 300 people. In my opinion they completely defaced the meaning of gospel by singing “Heal the World” by Michael Jackson and another song by Elton John. Anyways. Between these mass choirs were selected performers: hula dancers (having NOTHING to do with gospel but significant to the town), a combo enka/gospel group (purely entertainment value), and a couple from American who make their living singing gospel music. They were legit.

After sitting through the first half of the concert I couldn’t help but wonder how many people actually believed what they were singing. How many people actually understood the lyrics of the songs? I’m not gonna lie, “Christianese” is the set of words that are typically used in the church and not easily understood or related to people with no church background.

When the black American couple took the stage, they didn’t hold back. Musically and performance-wise they were great. They had the band, the lights, the matching costumes, the energy. They got the audience on their feet and encouraged singing along to the projected words on the screen. I didn’t need the words, I knew “Lord, You are Good” by heart and even learned a signed interpretation of it. It was here the mood switched, not only in the room but in my heart. For the first time in Japan, I was standing with a crowd singing praises to Jesus in my native language. When I say crowd I mean the hundreds of people who filled the concert hall, not the ten of us Americans who meet each Sunday evening. 

 All the complaining I’ve done in this blog doesn’t address the fact that there were in fact Japanese Christians who attended the concert and sang in gospel choirs. Now that those people were standing in front of their chairs and not on an obligatory riser on stage I could see and feel those willing hearts around me. At first the crowd was singing loudly and clapping, then the clapping subsided slightly as many of us raised our hands in worship. The words of this song will never mean more to me than they did at that moment:

“People from every nation and tongue, from generation to generation we worship You for who You are: You are good. Lord, You are good and Your mercy endureth forever.”

These were people whose lives had been destroyed by the recent earthquake and tsunami, lost friends and relatives, lost their jobs and had to move, lost their homes and live in temporary housing. People who are the minority, the 1% of the population who believe in a God and a faith that doesn’t have roots in their country or culture. People praising God in another language, sharing the experience with foreigners like me all for the sake of God’s love and unity in Christ. I became aware of my own inhibitions, my own fears of fully following God. I recognized my own shallowness and judgmental behavior. I saw myself drawn up and in, protecting myself from being broken. In fact it was brokenness required of me to become healed by God the Healer, willingness to be led by Him during my remaining time in Japan. I still don’t understand many Japanese behaviors and social rationale and probably never will, but I can love people and share my experiences with them; I can share the gospel that I have in my heart and show the love of God through my actions.  

I didn’t even care that we sang the same line over and over again; I didn’t want it to stop ever. I just wanted to continue with my brothers and sisters in Christ, praising our Audience of One.

That’s the day I found God in Japan. He was here all along, waiting for me to worship Him with all my heart, soul, and emotion. 

6am. Why do I do this to myself?

Though the threat of rain pervaded the forecast, I packed my newly purchased rain coat, pants, and gaiters, and trekked out into the wilderness of the Adatara mountain range alone.

Well, not really a wilderness, more like a well-marked trail of red and white targets. And not alone either because Eric braved the elements and went with me on our new adventure.

I tried to get reservations on a bus that would take us directly to the trailhead but called to late to secure the tickets. Thus, we took two trains and a bus that dumped us 5km from the trailhead.  At the train station I spotted a group of senior citizens grouped in a corner dressed in outdoor clothes and carrying cameras. I thought, “they might be climbing the mountain too, and if they have a tour bus maybe we can jump on with them! We walked over and I struck up a conversation with a pleasant-looking man. He told me the group was on it’s way to a hydrangea garden, what fun! He was super excited about it, telling me how everyone in the group was around 70 but they were still in great health. Their tour started to get underway so we sat down at the bus stop and watched them walk past. Have you ever seen a Japanese tour group in the States? They have their little flags in the front and back to mark the group and ensure no one gets lost. Well, they do it in their own country too! Not only were the front and back people carrying flags, but also 5 people dotted throughout the middle of the hoard. Awesome.

I taught Eric how to ride the bus and it dropped us off on a very clean and attractive street. 

We started walking and hoped to thumb a ride up the rest of the way. After all, the only attraction on this windy mountain road was the resort and trail at the end of it. I’d say our odds are in favor of a passing motorist who is also climbing the mountain and willing to give us a lift. 6 cars later, I started to rethink my strategy. Eric gave some advice: you have to walk backwards and look at the people passing you. Give them your best puppy dog face that says, “I’ll die on this mountain if you don’t pick me up.” I tried it. Another car passed that was completely empty!

I tried again. Car full of people. Okay, I can’t help that one.

Next car: two guys in the front pull over and open the sliding door, telling us to jump in. If this was America, no thanks. But we’re not in America now so without hesitation we jumped in the back and enjoyed a leisurely ride up the road to the trailhead. Win number 1.

It wasn’t raining but the entire mountain was buried in the clouds. As we started up the loop trail we passed some little waterfalls and lush greenery. There were two trails, the new and the old. The old trail looked more like a river bed going over tree roots, and the new one was wide enough to accommodate a small car. Rounding a bend in the road we stopped in our tracks, face to face with the largest rabbit/hare I’ve ever seen! It snuck into the bushes just as I whipped out my camera. Our car trail quickly turned into a more narrow trail with a stream running down the center. Then, we were pretty much walking up the stream. It was very wet and muddy, but very beautiful. The mist made things seem further than they appeared and we couldn’t see the top of the mountain to gauge our distance. It was probably just as well because we had a long ways to go! The earth was a beautiful reddish yellow color and there were plenty of volcanic rocks to pick through on the trail. It made me wish I had paid more attention during the geology portion of Earth Science class…almost. 

Mounting a false summit the trees and bushes thinned and piles of rocks instead were the only terrain markers. On the larger rocks a large red and white targets had been painted to mark the trail. There were many of them for good reason because the dense clouds made it difficult to look ahead. We rounded a corner and found river gushing at the bottom of a ravine. The opposite side, covered in cloud, was the summit. 

Heigh Ho! As we got within 200 yards of the summit I prayed, “God, Could you part the clouds for us?” And guess what happened? Oh yeah, parting of the clouds for Eric and I to see the ginormous crater! We left the crater area and the clouds came back. Uh huh. 

We took a short spur trail to the rocky top. The actual summit of Adatara was pretty cloudy though I can imagine what kind of a view would be had on a clear day. This mountain is in a prime position to see 360 degrees of the mid-Tohoku region. We couldn’t even see her close neighbor Bandai-san (which I summited a few weeks ago). There were so many bugs up there that we just took a few pictures and came down to the main trail to eat lunch.  Peanut butter on English muffins. Mmmm.

I was surprised at the number of trail runners we passed. These hard-core athletes were running along the ridges like it was a warm-up! I’d like to do that someday if I can stay uninjured for a period of time. We continued the loop down the mountain until we got to the gondola junction. My legs were a little tired but not finished. We decided to flip a coin and ended up walking down the rest of the trail leaving the gondola car empty. If I had known the condition of the trail I’m not sure I’d have made the same decision twice! Because of the past three rainy days the trail was completely soaked and muddy. It became twice as steep as the previous section of trail and I slipped several times despite our slow pace and using trekking poles. I busted out my gaiters for fun…and it was fun! I felt impenetrable! We finally made it back to the parking lot and looked out into the valley which was now sunny and blue skies. The lodge area had some hoses and a brush to wash our muddy boots (which made it easier to thumb a ride).

The very first car that came down the mountain stopped, though warily, to pick us up. Actually, they were probably wondering if we needed help because they didn’t offer to take us anywhere. The passenger seat lady stuck her head out the window and looked at us silently and waiting.

“Um, excuse me. Are you going to Dakeonsen or Nihonmatsu train station?”

She relayed the information to the man driver. He said no.

She told me no.

“Oh, okay, thank you.”

The man said to the lady, “Oh, I know where it is.”

They had a conversation about whether or not they could go there and how far away it was (5km).

“Yes, we’re going there.”

Awkward silence.

“Um, can we come with you?”

Another conversation passed between them as if they’d never known we were hitchhiking. Isn’t the thumbs-up thing international?

The lady in the passenger seat looked us over and said, “You can get in the back….but take off your shoes!”

They were so nice they actually took us past the bus stop and all the way to the train station. We arrived with 5 minutes to spare before the next train to Koriyama. Excellent.

So, after the long day of hiking and hitching I learned some valuable things:

1. Clean hikers are more likely to be picked up.

2. Hikers who speak Japanese can weasel a ride. 

Monday, Monday. It’s probably my least busy day at work, but it’s also my prep day for the entire week. That means I have no “catch up” days for the next 4 days, just business. However, I’m finding that a good hike on the weekend helps me return happily to work the next day. After Otakine with Eric I climbed up Utsushigadake with Dan last Saturday. After summiting 3 times and encountering rain, fog, wind, and snow, the 4th time was the charm as I came over the last rock to find the sun shining warmly. New signs had be erected, proclaiming the dangerous peril of the eroding summit peak…some things just WANT you to challenge them! They’re pretty much asking for it. 

This week I made a dream come true and hiked up Mt. Bandai with Rachel. It’s the local volcano, last erupted in 1888 and leaving several lakes and a chunk out of the mountain in its wake. I supposed I should say “one” of the local volcanoes because we’re on the Ring of Fire for cryin’ out loud. It’s neighbor, Mt. Adatara to the north, blew up a year later in 1889, and is famed to host one of the most beautiful 360 views in the region. It’s now on my list. I’m getting this terrible habit: as soon as I summit a mountain and look around in my binoculars, I spy a mountain even cooler and higher than the one I’m on and start planning my next ascent. Thanks to google maps and google earth and google in general I’ve got a system for route planning:

1.     Figure out the name of the mountain. This is a little difficult since it’s not always written in both kanji and romaji (English letters).

2.     Google the daylights out of it and try and find a blog or trail map in English. This usually fails, especially if it’s a local mountain.

3.     Google the mountain in Japanese, which usually results in too much information that I can’t read or sift through.

4.     Go to my new favorite website, yamareco.com and find the mountain using the map function. From there I can click on users’ routes and hope they took lots of pictures. It’s unique in that it utilizes the GPS information uploaded by the user and matches the picture taken with the exact point on the topographic map. Super helpful, especially when you need to know where to turn in a land with no street signs.

5.     Find someone crazy enough to follow my directions.

6.     Find a weekend where I don’t have some random work activity and the weather is nice and I’m not sick.

7.     Have a wonderful hike.

Of course I’m a little limited in the transportation department. If I ride my bike I can’t go too far. If I take the train I can’t bring the bike because it’s not allowed. I can hope there’s a bus at the train station but then I have to be SUPER sure it’s going in the right direction and pretty much know the names of all the local places where I’m headed…and how to read it in kanji. And hope the bus schedule fits my hiking schedule/route. And make sure I’ll be in time for the last train home.

Anyways, I got up at 6am to make myself some power pancakes (wheat pancakes, wheat germ, blueberries) and pack up for the day. We took the 8am train and waited only 3 minutes in Koriyama before our other train left for Inawashiro. Upon arriving we sighted the mountain and plotted the first part of the course: through the rice fields. Turn left from the station, go about 1 mile and turn right by the shrine. Oooookay. From there we easily found our next checkpoint and passed some campgrounds. Then we had a map fail. Right at a crossroads in the map, a giant circle had been superimposed and it was impossible to tell whether we should turn or go straight. We went straight. After about 5 minutes of walking on a paved path-like street a lone woman came walking towards us carrying freshly cut mountain flowers and grasses. She was wearing a bear bell and it clanged noisily with each step she took. Covered head to toe with layers suitable for gardening, it was obvious this lady was not out for a stroll up the mountain. She was also the only person we’d seen for the last half hour. I stopped to ask for directions.

“Excuse me, is this the trail up the mountain?”

“Nope, this definitely doesn’t lead up the mountain.”

“Oh, I see. So, where is the trail?”

“I’m not sure, but this isn’t it. You should turn around.”

“Okay. I brought a map. Can you tell where I might have missed my turn?”

“Hmm….you should turn at the road. That will lead you in the right direction and keep your eyes peeled for the trail. Good luck!”

She walked us to the junction and bid farewell. We took the prescribed turn and shortly found the trailhead, well marked of course. The next half hour was a steep climb up a ravine, swatting at gnats that swarmed around our faces.

We came out of the jungle at the nearby ski resort, tumbling onto the waving grasses of the wide slopes. Ever upwards and onwards, the bugs quickly dissipated and the sun shone brightly though never hotter than a mild 70 degrees. Perfect temperature combined with blue sky and a light breeze served as our hiking weather throughout our entire duration on the mountain. Climbing up the trail we continually looked behind us to an unobstructed view of Lake Inawashiro and its town. The flooded rice paddies reflected anything and everything, giving the earth a shiny, serene appearance. We passed a few people coming down and a few people going up, mostly middle-aged men and women out for a group hike. 

The terrain varied as we approached the saddle of the mountain. There are actually two peaks opposite each other and in the middle is a swamp filled with croaking frogs and sketchy half-dried pools of stagnant water. It’s regarded as a national reserve area. This saddle area was very flat as we walked from the east to the west. 

Starting to climb again we approached very rocky trails, the result of the eruption. It blew my mind (pun intended) to think of these large rocks, boulders, being effortlessly shot out of the ground like rockets from a huge force of the bowels of the earth. Pffftttt! We made our way to the roped off area of the crater, which was more like a huge chunk of the mountain completely blasted away exposing its red layers. From the crest we saw a panoramic view of the north valley, Goshikinuma, Lake Hibara, and other lush valleys and lakes created from the eruption. 

We continued up and found a natural spring to the side of the trail, welcoming travelers with fresh cold water. There was even a complementary cup provided if you were willing to share with everyone else. I just used my imagination.

We started to pass more and more hikers as different trails started to merge towards the top. We passed a hut serving refreshments but didn’t stop. On the last trail to the top we frequently pulled over to allow others to pass on their way down. It was a nice break from the stair-like trail to stop and look at the mountain sakura in bloom. Finally approaching the summit we looked around for less than a minute before sitting down and greedily reaching into our packs for lunch. I was so hungry! Good thing I made power pancakes. 

Like I mentioned before, there are several trails to the summit, each one starting in a completely different location surrounding the mountain. We decided to take two trails, one up the east side and one down the south side. The south trail is the shortest but also the steepest since it goes straight down the ridgeline. It also parallels a gondola from a ski resort so we hoped it was running for the summer hiker season. Before we hit the trail we asked a few bystanders to take a picture and asked if they knew about the gondola. They didn’t know if it was running, but suggested hitchhiking if nothing worked out. I didn’t know the word for “hitchhiking” at the time, so she gestured pulling up her pant leg and sticking out her leg! Of course I understood immediately and we all got a good laugh out of it. International signals. Awesome.   

Climbing down was an adventure in itself; the trail was so steep we couldn’t see very far in front of us because it looked like we would fall off of a ledge. The top half of the mountain was above the tree line so we had an unblemished view of Lake Inawashiro the entire time. We passed a few patches of snow, happy mountain flowers, and enjoyed the bug-free zone of high altitude. We eventually got to the gondola station, which was closed. It may not have even opened for skiing this year. So, instead of catching a ride we continued walking all the way down, down, down, down, down, down. 

Finally arriving at the ski slopes we took a shortcut down one of them. I sat on my rain tarp and started to slide down, but quickly stopped to avoid ripping a hole in it. Next time I’ll be prepared with something more durable. After tearing up our calves and shoving our toes into the top of our boots for such a long time, we walked backwards down the grassy slopes for some relief. From there it was the long road home, or at least the road to the train station. 

Since we took two different trails from two different locations, we ended up closer to a different train station. It was a smaller station and some rapid trains don’t even stop there. We had an hour to kill so we went in a little local store and loaded up on snacks and drinks. We took naps on the train platform because it was delayed by a half hour. When we finally boarded and started making progress, it stopped on the tracks for another half hour to wait for passing trains. When we finally got to Koriyama we beelined to a ramen shop and ate a hot bowlful of yumminess. I’m not sure what the broth base was, but there was a nice slice of tender pork, boiled egg, veggies, and noodles.  What a great ending to a great day.  

In current news, the social networking giant Facebook has gone public with it’s company and is more valuable than ever. More and more people around the world sign up for a free account everyday, probably on par with the amount of people already using Facebook and complaining about how many times their profile or newsfeed setup has been rearranged to their disliking. Personally, I could care less about the latest and greatest change to Facebook though freely admit I’m resisting the switch to “timeline.” Most importantly I have temporarily suspended my Facebook access for an undetermined period of time.

My beef with Facebook is not Facebook itself, but how I am interpreting the information that my friends are posting about their lives. We’ve all seen it: I’m engaged, I’m married, I’m pregnant, I’m single, I just saw the most awesome movie, I just got a new job, I’m moving, I’m in love with this TV show, I went on an awesome hike, I love my puppy, my team won, and every other interesting and uninteresting detail about our lives. I know I’ve been part of it and I’m not condemning any of it, but I’ve come to realize that living in Japan and living in America at the same time is a little damaging to my mental and emotional health. Being on Facebook, even casually, makes me want to be there and be a part of your lives. “Liking” a status, posting a comment, and your reciprocation doesn’t fill the void I feel in my heart. Spending more time on Facebook doesn’t help either, in fact it makes it worse because logging off and returning to my “real” world here in Japan sharply reminds me that I can’t just finish work and go grab some coffee with you at Starbucks. I treasure my relationships with my friends and if you’re reading this then you know I’ve invested in your life and you’ve invested in mine. Quality time is the best way I know how to connect with people and Facebook can’t satiate that craving no matter what fancy application they buy next.

It is a true paradox, being bound to Facebook in order to keep in touch but in fact losing touch due to lack of interaction. Real interaction. The more stories and newsfeeds I read, the farther apart I feel. The loneliness made me retreat from my current living in Japan, pine for my job and friends in America and created some resentment towards my situation here. Of course I don’t want to feel that way about my job or my team, and I certainly don’t regret moving to Japan. I enjoy living here in this safe and hospitable country and I appreciate the opportunity to live overseas for 2 years. Decidedly the best way to deal with my inward struggle was to become less attached to the America that WAS and more focused on where I AM.  This realization was the catalyst to abandon Facebook until I come up with a reasonable balance of communication with my friends at home.

My mother served two years in the Peace Corps back in the day, sent to the dry, dusty, and very third-world Yemen. It was not the dangerous rebel-rousing country it is today, of course. She sent letters to her family and close friends, probably to whoever took the time to write her back…including my dad. When I was a teenager I remember rummaging through some old tapes and noticed a few weren’t labeled. My dad and I popped them into the living room stereo system and a familiar voice boomed throughout the house. It was my mother, a younger version with a distinct Jersey accent, reading her journal aloud on tape so her parents and siblings at home could hear her voice and keep up with her adventures. No Facebook, no Skype, no acquaintances dropping a line. As I listened to it I thought, “How horrible! She was all the way across the world with primitive communication, weekly at best, and no thought of email or video chat.” My mom came from a corner of the house and realized what was playing. She ordered us to turn it off but we were having too much fun imitating her East Coast pronunciation of words like “cawffee.” I paused it long enough to ask, “When you came back, what happened to all of your friends?” “Well,” she started, “When you live so far across the world and for such a period of time people tend to go on with their lives without you. When I came back many of my friends were married, kids, new jobs, moved, you get the picture. So, I just went along with my life too.”

“That’s terrible!” I thought. “If I ever go overseas I’m going to keep in touch with all of my friends and when I get back it will be like I never left. Thank God for the Internet and the 21st century!” I now realized it’s both a blessing and a curse. My mom’s experience had truth in it even though it seemed to be from the stone age. Underneath the mask of which mode of communication you are using is a universal truth: time together makes people closer. How much time does it take to post a comment? About 2 seconds. How much time does it take to read a comment? About .5 seconds. How much time does it take to write a letter? 1-2 hours for me. How much time does it take to read a letter? About 10 minutes, usually more because I read it more than once. How much time is my average skype call? 1-2 hours. That’s even with people I Facebook on a regular basis.

You see, what’s invested in a relationship is so much more than just the information you’re giving and receiving, it’s the TIME you’re investing. I’ve decided to stop investing my seconds in small talk and comments, to save those for where I am now, not where I could be. Spending an hour of time browsing a hundred newsfeeds of a hundred different people is less valuable to me than a 10-minute real-time conversation. Of course I have no desire to trash all of my relationships in the states, I’m just not giving myself false hope to think that your lives are going to stop and reconvene when I return. I know I made a joke of it when I left and told my friends they weren’t allowed to get married or have babies for two years, but the truth is that we’re all changing. See you on the other side.

Again, I don’t know how long I will be MIA from Facebook, perhaps a week, a month, a year. I care about what’s going on in your life, but I also need to be fully here in my current relationships and not living my life with regrets of missing out.

Skype me, email me, or write me a letter when you’d like to invest some time in us. I’ll do the same.  

Have I mentioned that I’m climbing Mt. Fuji in August?! Well, I am. Everything has been arranged as far as accommodations and travel, so now I’m amassing a wish list on REI to keep track of the gear I need to buy. In lieu of this fact I also decided to go hiking as much as possible until August 6th. I’m much more confident in my train and road navigation abilities. The recent discovery of my bicycle having an internal gear system made it much more amiable to ride up and down the hilly valley roads to get to a trailhead. Learning Japanese hiking vocabulary is a step-by-step journey but I’m making progress in that area as well and was able to find a very helpful site for hopeful hikers. The absence of a car makes it a little tricky and I have to be more picky about the mountains I climb, but it always promises adventure for me and the party involved.

Recently Eric was the hiking buddy victim and he accompanied me on a hike up Mt. Ootakine. Although I woke 2 hours before I had to leave the house, an impromptu conversation had me scrambling to pack my things at the last minute because I couldn’t say goodbye. I whipped up some pancake mix and threw in blueberries, filled my water bladder for the first time and hoped it wouldn’t leak on it’s inaugural run. Eric was ready to go and came to check on me…good thing because I had since forgotten about the pancakes cooking and ended up charring a few. Oops. Steaming hot they packed in tinfoil, I stuck some veggies in a plastic container, grabbed the camera and battery from the charger, bug repellant and sunblock from the dresser, sunglasses from atop the mirror and off we went!

We took a train 3 stops to the South East, a direction I’ve never taken on the train line. It was there I remembered that the map I’d painstakingly written out the night before was still lying on my bedroom floor by the computer. Oops. Riding further into the countryside we stepped lightly onto a single empty platform, the nine o’clock sunshine promising a slightly view from the mountain summit. At such a small station there is no one to man it so we stuck our tickets into a wooden box by the entrance. Walking along the road we passed local farmers carefully planting each baby rice plant by hand in the flooded fields. Our road weaved up the mountainside for an hour. We passed some local tourist attractions like a cave entrance and a “pure water” bottling plant. At the top of the ridge we walked through a nifty looking campground that had large and small cabins available to rent.

Walking over the summit of “Sendaihiwara” our road finally began to slope down. At a fork in the road I suddenly wished I had remembered the map. We went right….after a few minutes we turned around and took the left fork. The correct one. Soon we came to the trailhead. The trailhead didn’t let us down and led straight up the southwest ridge of the mountain. Some parts were actually pretty steep! I changed from my road running shoes to my hiking shoes and began the ascent. It involved some awesome trees and short bamboo brush, a few rocks to climb over and some ladders and chains to climb up the dangerous places. We passed only 3 people who were coming down the mountain.

The top was somewhat anticlimactic as it was the post for a communications base for the Japanese military. 1,192 meters (3910 ft.) if you’re interested. We walked around the chain and barbed wire fence that hogged the summit before settling on a lovely view of the lazy wind turbines chilling out on the south ridge. Do you know how huge those things are?! I passed one on the freeway once…one blade was being carried by the entire length of a flatbed semi truck. As we ate our lunch in the sunshine we theorized the probability of surviving a flight through the gap in the blades while hang-gliding. According to our non-calculations, one has 5% chance of survival, all dependent on wind speed and the length of your glider.  (In case you were curious). We tried to look at the ocean through the binoculars but it was too hazy to see it clearly. I did see two large towers by the coastline and couldn’t help but wonder if they were from the reactor plants. 

On the way back we hunted for and found the overgrown west trail. Quite steep and slippery, it more than made up for its faults when it followed a stream for the last mile or so of the trail. The route crisscrossed countless times back and forth, allowing us to jump, leap, and otherwise tip-toe across river rocks to make it to the opposite bank.  This miniature lush mountain paradise was further enhanced by the joyful songbirds and croaking frogs encouraging us along the way. 

Coming out of the woods we happened upon a cute little church building complete with a rock wall and white birch tree border. Approaching the front of the building there was obvious earthquake damage to the tile staircase and the rock retaining wall. One of the front doors was completely gone and most of the windows had left their glass on the floor. Fans were hanging by wires from the ceiling. A piano left out collecting dust was luckier than the pulpit covered in rat droppings. Discarded programs from a wedding were strewn about the floor as were relinquished ribbon pew decorations. Silently we walked through the deserted set, imagining a wedding being interrupted by a violent earth shaking, windows shattering and people screaming as they run outside only to be met by crumbling rock walls and cracked tiles. Of course we can’t say for certain that is what occurred, but the remnant pieces certainly fueled the imagination. 

After leaving the chapel we walked a few paces down the road only to discover that it was owned and operated by the hotel perched above the tranquil rice paddies. The hotel had long since been abandoned as well, though a bit more methodically than the chapel. All the furniture, documents, props, and other easily movable/sellable items had been removed, right down to the light fixtures in the ceiling where bare wires now crept out of dark holes. They took everything but the kitchen sink and the industrial laundry machines…and the disco ball. What a shame to leave THAT behind! The windows were mostly shattered of course, and the parking lot was completely impaired since half of it had slid down the hill into the road. A lone boulder sat in the middle of the pavement, content in its new location.

We chose a different road to return by, this also requiring boarding at a station further down the line. We began descending the mountain speedily enough but realized that we had quite a ways to go. In an effort to not miss Bible Study that evening we decided to try our thumbs at hitch-hiking. Two cars later (and those were the ONLY two cars coming down the mountain) an old lady pulled over and offered us a ride into town. We had a lovely little chat with her for the next five minutes or so as we enjoyed the sensation of sitting and moving. After nothing but walking only up or downhill for hours it was a very welcome feeling. It turned out that our kind driver was headed to the store directly across from the station! Everybody benefitted from this encounter, especially since we had four minutes to spare before the next train pulled in! Had we walked into town we would have had to wait another hour and a half for the train and arrive home late for the meeting. Awesome. And a definite win for my first ever hitch-hiking experience. Sitting on the train home I opened my pack to partake of the last burned pancake. It was delicious.

 Hopefully my next summit will be Mt. Bandai, the local volcano to the west sitting at 1816 meters (5,958 ft.)  

As mentioned in my previous blog, we missed seeing the cherry blossoms (sakura) in Kyoto when my mom was visiting. Unfortunately she left before seeing more than one tree in bloom, and I figured they would come out right after she left. Well, it turns out that she would have had to be here awhile because they didn't happen until the end of April! Tokyo was aflutter with pink and white petals the first two weeks of the month, but up in Fukushima prefecture we had a freak snowstorm at the time. No flowers here. 

Eventually it warmed up and the buds started to loosen up around April 23rd. I know this sounds like flower information overkill but you have to understand that this is a BIG deal in Japan. I heard about the importance of sakura here but I never fully appreciated it until now. Living in Japan is great and they have lots of pretty and colorful flowers planted in the front of each house and storefront. The parks let little streams meander past the walkways, hillsides are green, and in autumn the rice paddies wave their rice stalks back and forth like the ocean waves.

Then there’s winter. A cold, iced-over wasteland for three solid months. Nothing but clouds and snow, snow and clouds, cold, unheated schools and layers of clothing taking up space in the washing machine. Though snow-covered trees are lovely, everyone is ready for change by spring time.

Speaking of change, the blossoms come at a convenient time of year: the start of a new school year. Everyone changes grades in April so it’s kind of symbolic in that respect. Oh, and by the way, if you work in the school system your job is completely changeable whether you’re an elementary special ed teacher or a principle of a high school. Anyone anywhere can be reassigned by the Board of Education….and they are. We start the new year having no idea if the classroom teachers we worked with last year will be the same or not. The funny thing is that the teachers don’t know if they’re moving either! All of a sudden they get put in a different school with different kids, different grades, and they are expected to perform. Many people move their families with the change of a job that crosses a long distance.

Imagine these changes and consider the sakura, five-petals and perfectly beautiful. Large blooms in bunches at the ends of branches make up the consistency of the whole tree, light pink or white and one of three kinds. There are two types that are majorly different in structure: the droopy and non-droopy…at least that’s how I remember them. Even when completely bare the sakura are easy to spot as they tend to grow out instead of up. If a tree is more than 50 years old its trunk tends to become twisted and gnarly, and they’re usually planted along a river or in a prominent spot in front of a house or on a hill. They have to be planted you see, and tended to with care. Oh, by the way there are three sakura trees in Japan that are over 1000 years old and protected as national treasures. People from around the country flock to these trees and take pictures like there’s no tomorrow. They sit under sakura and have a special lunch. It’s an event called “hanami” which literally means “flower watching.” Business men go for walks in the park on their lunch break just to look at the blossoms. Stores profit by producing special obento lunches during the season if one cannot prepare their own hanami lunch. Drinking sake is also a great way to celebrate under the cherry trees as the petals gently float around and to the ground like pink snow.  

Okay, now that we understand the importance of sakura I can move on with this.

It was two days before my birthday, Thursday, and I took a walk down by the river to check on the blossoms. They’re almost there!!! The trees were looking pink even though the flowers weren’t open yet. Everyone was talking about it and Kawaai-sensei said Enchou sensei would take us to Takizakura on Saturday because it was supposed to bloom.    

Then it rained.

We didn’t see the sun for two days and Dan and I had planned a Saturday morning run to Takizakura. It’s one of the three national treasure trees in Japan, over 1000 years old and very popular. It also happens to be less than 12 kilometers from our house so we decided to run there. I generally try to do something active on my birthday as a way of gauging my overall level of health for the year. Since Enchou sensei was taking everyone to the tree by car and leaving at 6am to “beat the crowds” we told them we’d meet them there and drive back with them. I gave a change of clothes, water, and food to a friend to bring for me and Dan and I took off at 5am. I budgeted an hour and a half for the trip since we’d never been that way and I didn’t know how many hills we would encounter. It was also our first “big” run of the season and both of us are coming out of winter running hibernation.

It was very misty in the morning as we set out and I wondered if it would rain. Dan predicted it would burn off and as we ran out of town into the countryside he proved to be right. We took the back roads, passing lovely and quaint sakura trees along the way adorning the hillsides with their fresh-smelling blossoms. A larger tree of the “drooping” variety stretched out from a hill over the road where some early birds had already set up their cameras on tripods, pointed at the tree towards the East and waiting for the mist to rise to capture the perfect picture.

After a few turns we finally made it to the last junction on the way to the tree when we saw it, a line of cars stretching far beyond sight to the right and left but all going in one direction: to the tree. What joy we felt as we ran along the white line down the hill, passing cars and their idling engines completely disabled to go further except to turn around. We half expected to pass the van of Wakakusa teachers and wave as we ran past but we didn’t get that opportunity…because we were already an hour ahead of them. We arrived at the tree and took a look around to pass the time but we ended up waiting a long time for them to arrive. Stuck in traffic. That’s a WIN for running! The destination was not lacking in visitors despite the early morning hour. The mist was completely burned off by this time and revealed the majestic beauty of Takizakura nestled in the country hills. 

Its name means “waterfall cherry tree” because of its fluid-like branches in the likeness of a waterfall. Even though there were many people standing taking pictures, the crowd flowed nicely and it was very easy to photograph the tree. Above the tree on the hill were more trees, a graveyard, and a shrine. Below was a café and many vendors ready to sell you any product related to sakura: soap, saplings from the mother tree, ice cream, mochi, and who knows what else.

Like I said, we went to look at the tree etc. while waiting for our friends (and my food/water) to arrive. After our walk-about we came out by the road and realized that we were supposed to pay 300 yen to enter the area. Oops. There was a man who originally showed us the entrance but since there was an open area near him we just went in that way. Little did we know the pay station was at the official entrance and we were “sneaking in.” The guy clearly saw us go, but he probably figured we were just stupid Americans and let us pass. Of course Enchou-sensei paid our way when he got there but we felt bad for our original mistake. 

So everyone finally showed up and we spent a half hour taking hundreds of pictures of cherry blossoms. We then went to a tofu shop for some sakura-flavored tofu ice cream and tofu donuts. Super yummy!

Arriving home, I rode my bike to the dollar store for some dirt and planter and grabbed some snacks for later. It’s my birthday! I grabbed the leftover wire from Christmas wreath-making and securely strapped the small planter to my balcony. Now my morning glorys can grow without fear of falling to their death in a wind storm. It’s my first time to plant anything from a seed with reasonable hope I won’t kill it. I usually kill plants because I forget about them. Not this time!

I grabbed my snacks and everyone packed into cars to head to the top of Katasone mountain. The whole team plus Celete’s mom, Yuta, Manri, and Emi unpacked homemade goods and spread them out under the covered bench. We spread our towels and mats on the ground and soaked in the sunshine while eating our picnic lunch. Linner. Everything was so delicious! The boys pulled out their guitars and Yuta joined in on harmonica while singing Happy Birthday. Then I got a personal concert as they sang all kinds of made up birthday songs and just played whatever came to mind. It was absolutely fabulous. The atmosphere was merry and bright and everyone’s tummies were full of karage (fried chicken), strawberries, sushi, muffins, chips, onigiri, kabobs, etc. 

Emi drove me to the bottom of the mountain where I got out and walked through town to enjoy the blossoms which had burst to life on this day of my birth. I ended up meeting Jay and Eric down by the bridge and we had an impromptu hanami, drinking sake and looking at the flowers. It was so peaceful.

Later I made fruit pizza with Linsey and we all gathered at the Newhards for dessert and some Rock Band! Pretty much a perfect day with perfect weather and perfect company.

The next day was rather relaxing with more sunshine to go around. On Monday, Eric and I packed a lunch and rode our bikes out of town to the south, passing some local sakura trees and cruising down steep hills while merrily ringing our bicycle bells. We headed towards a mountain in the distance, a mountain I’d only seen from the window of an elementary school office. It has 3 black jagged peaks that call out to me, “Susie! Come and climb me!” We found a road and headed up, up, up, of course a little bushwhacking shortcut found its way into our adventure as well as two snakes that Eric almost petted accidentally. 

Loose rocks tumbling down, we scaled the outcroppings and ate our lunch at the tippy top while enjoying a 360 degree view of the valleys and mountains. I enjoyed (from a safe perch) watching Eric partake in his pastime of rolling boulders off the cliff. Boom! Crash! They fell into the chasm below and echoed monstrously. To the right of the cliffs was a granite quarry…no one was working that holiday weekend so we decided to check it out. Through observation and scientific inquiry we discovered the quarry process. It felt like a homeschool field trip. Yay for hands-on learning! The smooth cut of the stones made me want to lie there like a cat for the rest of the afternoon…but I didn’t.

Instead we rode towards home…but took a detour to the gorge! It’s a beautiful and secluded place on the river in the forest. We met the rest of the team minus two and everyone hung out on the rocks enjoying the nice weather. Rachel sat by the river to finish a letter to friend…then we heard a scream. Her letter fell into the river. It was retrieved but soaking wet. We staked out a place for a rope swing and saw yet another snake while picking up trash stranded from last year’s typhoon. We hauled huge bags of trash home on our bikes, much to the amusement of the local old ladies out sitting on a curb enjoying the evening air. A few more sakura trees later we arrived home and ended the evening drinking tea with Rachel. Yep, that’s three perfect days in a row. Happy Birthday to me! I’m happy to report my overall health is good.  

Okay, time to catch up.

Everything is a vivid blur from March through April. I remember every minute I spent in the office, writing term reports, organizing materials, and looking at maps and tourist attractions for Kyoto. My mom was coming and I had to be prepared! Of course that entailed cleaning the apartment and washing the sheets, pulling out the futon from behind my dresser and stuffing every unnecessary thing in my already crowded closet. Good thing Japanese closets are deep.

After stealing away from work at the earliest possible moment I traveled to West Tokyo on 5 trains during the rush hour, sleeping on the bullet train and sleeping while standing on the local trains. It’s quite easy when you’re packed like sardines in a can. I arrived at 9pm where I called my Japanese family to pick me up from their local station. I ate some delicious beef stew made by otoosan, then we all got in the car to pick up my mom and Takae. They came in by bus having ridden almost three hours straight from the airport. After she accosted me with a giant hug and screaming she met okaasan and they both embraced and started crying. Moms. Sheesh! Takae and I walked behind them to the car as they talked and cried to each other without really knowing what the other was saying. Yay for crossing cultural boundaries!

Of course we stayed up late eating more stew and chatting about stuff. The next morning otoosan took us on a trip to…anywhere. My mom went to a craft store to purchase some special quilting needles, then we decided to head to Yokohama Bay, my dad’s old workplace once upon a time.  It was so cool to walk around the pier; artsy ocean-inspired architecture weaved out into the water in a blue-gray tone highlighted by the dark planks underfoot. 

We spent some time walking around the waterfront park and ended up in Chinatown for dinner. I ate the most ginormous steamy nikuman known to man and it was delicious! I bought a few hanging tapestries for my future home back in America…someday. Of course I got caught in a shop that sold dried fruit and cute earrings. I won that game and bought several goods. Takae bought a flowering tea flower for my mom to watch. If you’re a tea connoisseur you’ve probably seen these tightly bundled leaf balls that magically open and spread into a mini garden when introduced to boiling water in a glass pot or cup. I’m not sure what kind it was but we drank it happily.

The next day we all went into Tokyo to watch the Seattle Mariners play the Hanshin Tigers, a Japanese team. The Mariners ended Spring Training in Arizona early and flew overseas to play a few pick-up games with two Japanese teams. Then the Oakland A’s flew into Tokyo and the M’s and A’s opened their season against each other in Japan! We didn’t see that game as it was later in the week, but we did watch the M’s get slaughtered by the Tigers. I heard from a Japanese friend that we were spotted on TV! Oh yeah! That’s ten points for being white at a Japanese baseball game.

Coming in to Funehiki late on the evening train, we unpacked and repacked for the “family trip” the next day, hosted by my employer. The entire team trekked in the vans out towards the coast, but not in the ocean. We stopped a few miles short in Hawaii. Well, not really Hawaii, but a pretty good replica of it by Japanese standards! The Hawaiians Resort is a large, mostly indoor water park and spa. The features included water slides, onsen, water pools, buffet, hotel, spa area, and a hula show. This place had been shut down for almost a year following the earthquake due to damage and being in the radiation scare zone. We were super excited to start our Spring Break off at this place…and then we found out you had to pay $2 every time you wanted to go down the slides! So we hung out in the pool and mooched a beach ball from some kids to hit around. Monkey in the middle--what a great time waster. We all watched the show together, and when they asked for volunteers I raced up on stage with all the little kids and practiced my hula hips. Oh yeah. Another win for the white girl.

After a few hours in the pool we cleaned up, ate lunch at the buffet, watched the hula girls, and packed back into the vans for part 2 of our trip: onsen. Yes please. We ended up in Bandai-atami, our frequented onsen hotel of choice. Or rather, Enchou-sensei’s favorite one in the area. Personally, it’s one of my favorites too. Despite the nice weather near the coast, we were now back in the mountains and while we sat in the outdoor onsen it started to snow! It felt so nice, the freezing air above the hot natural spring pool. We made some friends with some Japanese girls while sitting there and put on a mini concert featuring the Wakakusa ladies singing, “I’ve got peace like a river” in harmony.

That night we celebrated Janelle’s last supper by dining not in the buffet hall, but a private room with a course meal. 30 different dishes later, I was so stuffed I never wanted to eat anything ever again. I would have stopped after the 2nd round but that would have been rude. I’d love to tell you what I ate, but I’m not really sure about most of it. Of course there was some sashimi (raw fish like tuna and squid), rice, abalone, nabe, udon, shrimp (cooked and raw), vegetables cooked a hundred different ways, and many more unrecognizable items.

We spent the night and left in the morning, just in time for me to go to work in the afternoon. Wait, I thought I was supposed to be on Spring Break?! Nope. I worked for two days and my mom came to a few of my classes to meet my children. On my first official day off I took her up Mt. Katasone, the local hill with a great view at the top. We did laundry and packed our bags yet again for a great adventure.

The next morning was Kyoto: 4 hours by train from start to finish, including both local and bullet trains. We got down to Tokyo just fine and transferred onto the south line for Kyoto. It was my first time ever going to that part of the country! We didn’t even hit the first stop when a lady came by to check our tickets…which has never happened on any of my train rides.  Mine cleared, but when she looked at my mom’s rail pass we got kicked off the train! Out of all the trains in Japan, there are two that aren’t covered by the pass. Guess which one we were on….yep. So we got off at some obscure station and I did my best to negotiate directions in Japanese and explain the situation to an attendant. They pointed out the right train and we were delayed only about 20 minutes compared to our initial itinerary.

In Kyoto we met Rachel…poor Rachel had been up all night after riding the cheaper night bus down to Kyoto for 9 hours. We put our stuff in lockers at the station and got some lunch and drinks at an Irish pub down the street. I can’t tell you how many times I asked for directions in Japanese, but I’m getting pretty good at it. It took awhile to find the correct platform in the huge station, eventually arriving at …..somewhere. I can’t remember the name of the area but it’s where the bamboo forest is located. Yeah, this grove of giant bamboo trees is just chilling in the middle of Kyoto and it’s super old. There was a very friendly artist selling his postcard artwork on the sidewalk and we stopped to look…then we bought a ton of cards because they were so awesome! I have plans to matte and frame them in the states. 

You know I could give you a play-by-play, but in the interest of time I’ll just sum up.

We rode in a rickshaw, saw a bunch of temples, ate tofu donuts, got lost, saw more temples, ate yummy Thai food, made a table runner on a loom, dressed up as geishas, bought pottery, saw an awesome castle, and did a lot of walking. Our hostel was in Gion, the entertainment district, but despite the connotations it was very quiet and safe. 

We returned to Funehiki safely and spent the next two days hanging out around town and doing some local shopping. Mom practically cleaned out the store of fabric squares for her quilting and sewing projects.

On the day she was heading out to the airport there was a low-grade typhoon sweeping the nation. Great. All the trains got off schedule and Kawaai sensei got worried so she paid for a taxi to take us to Koriyama. We said goodbye and I left my brave mother to find her way home alone. No, I’m just kidding. We researched the route way beforehand and she knew the exact trains to take the whole way…including a brief stop in fabric town!

The new team members had arrived by this time so each of us took time to acclimate them to different aspects of living in Japan. April is the start of a new school year in Japan so I took several new classes at Wakakusa…that includes the tasks of learning their individual strengths, weaknesses, and names! Two classes remained the same. I also became the co-leader for the community gospel choir with Jay! I spent most of my nights organizing materials left from previous leaders as well as composing my own arrangements for the choir. I employed Travis to figure out some lyrical translations in Japanese so we can sing in both languages.

The cherry blossoms will bloom soon, marking my first and last sakura season in Japan. Because of last year’s disaster I was delayed a month in coming to Japan. The short blooming season had finished and we never saw more than one cherry tree dotted with white flowers. This year is going to be epic from what I hear. When my mom and I were in Kyoto we had hoped to see the cherry trees blossoming since the South end of the island is warmer than the North, but we were a week too early! They’re finally coming to our part of the country….here they come!!!