Taipei Highlights
A bunch of highlights from the last couple days in Taipei:
I played with a group of Taiwanese school children at the Confucius Temple and probably spectacularly disrupted the field trip. But the teachers seemed to like trying out their English on me as much as the kids. They made me miss my kids in Japan so bad. I also got to visit the Baoan Temple right next door. I was looking for some god to pray to that would heal my aching back, but instead prayed to the altar of ibuprofen.
Yesterday afternoon, I spent most of my time at the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall and the surrounding plaza where I got to see the changing of the guard. What a strange, anachronistic display. More fun, I think was the people watching outside in the plaza.
The highlight of the day was the night market and snake alley. I’ve been to a few markets in Asia now, but so far, this one takes the cake for volume and variety of ridiculous nonsense. Of course, the cheap garbage products were there. And the weird animal parts being sold for consumption. But, where this one stood out was the live animals.
They call it snake alley for a reason. Snake handlers put on mini shows with cobras and whatever reptiles they happen to have in their cages that night. Often the shows will culminate in the snake being killed and drained of its blood so that passers by can buy a drink. Other valuable parts are extracted and everyone except the snake seems pretty happy about the whole affair.
I didn’t stick around to watch the skinning of any of the snakes nor did I bother to watch a guinea pig get fed to a snake that was about the size of a boa constrictor but yellow in colour. The snake’s handler was just bringing out the ill-fated rodent and I couldn’t bring myself to watch. I walked past again later and it looked like that same guinea pig was still alive, so the whole thing may have just been for show.
Worst, however, were the turtles. These poor things had been laid out in a row and were gradually dying under a lamp while they slowly, but desperately flailed their tiny flippers in the vain hope of turning over. Occasionally, the owner of the shop would come by with a spray bottle and spritz the helpless amphibians keeping them hydrated enough to prolong their doom. Thanks for reinforcing my vegetarianism Ms. Turtle Torturer!
I had the fortune of spending my time in the market with a nice couple from Canada. The market was a good place to have some company. And one of them has been living here in Taipei for four months, so he knew his way around.
Today, I took a trip back to Longshan to take some photos of the hustle and bustle during the day. I happened to nitice a photographer there had the National Geographic logo on his camera. I said hi then proceeded to shadow him briefly just to see how he approached subjects. What I liked was how he just walked up to people and started shooting. It’s his job, after all. That prompted me to get over that somewhat lingering fear of just walking up and photographing a stranger. It’s actually pretty easy. I have moments where it doesn’t seem like any problem to just snap away, but this guy just proved how it easy it was to just get right in there and start shooting.
I then hopped on the train and headed to Taipei 101, currently the world’s tallest building. The high ‘end mall below it didn’t have much to offer me so I headed across the street and happened to find a little tradeshow for canine products. Fortunately, this was food for dogs, not food made of dogs. And plenty of dogs were there, having a merry time sniffing whatever they could.
As the sun started to disappear behind the clouds and the horizon, I headed up to the observation deck of Taipei 101. It’s a pretty incredible building. The views from the top are probably better saved for a day when there is less haze, but it was still quite a view from the top. The outdoor observatory was somehow eerie – hearing only the wind while in the middle of this metropolis left me feeling strangely alone. So I went and checked out the wax figures on loan from Madame Tussaud’s of Hong Kong. Nothing like getting up close to a David Beckham replica to comfort you.
Oh, and one last highlight. A store at the base of Taipei 101 had chocolate-covered almonds from Japan! Yay for the best thing ever!
Sun Moon Lake to Taipei
Back to the hustle and bustle of Taipei. I was reintroduced to the congestion of this place by having my 3.5 hour bus ride turn into a 5 hour ride because of the traffic coming into Taipei. But, the screens on the bus were showing King Kong, so that kept me interested. Sure, it had no sound and I had to get off the bus at the climactic Empire State Building scene, but it looked like a fun film.
Instead of braving another bike seat yesterday, I decided to head to Sun Moon Lake and do some walking in the area. It’s the highest and largest lake in Taiwan and the guidebooks rank it high among things to see here.
The azure waters didn’t disappoint. A light haze gave depth to the distant mountains while the noon-hour sun sparkled in the water. That same noon-hour sun beat down upon my hatless head and now I can feel its heat trying to escape back out through my short hair.
I wandered the small town by the lake and found a vegetarian restaurant where the owner spoke Spanish and Chinese, but no English. Too bad I hardly remember any Spanish. So, we fumbled through things and I think I eventually communicated that whatever she made would be fine as long as it was vegetarian. She came back with a nice bowl of rice in a broth with veggies and tofu and I was happy as a clam.
With my belly contentedly full, I hiked around part of the lake to Wenwu temple. Set up on a hill, this spot has a great view of the lake and is a nice example of some of the Chinese temple architecture. It’s also interesting because it blends styles from Buddhist, Taoist and Confucian temples. Not that I’m an expert on the subject, but that’s what the brochure told me.
I hustled back down the hill to the town so that I could catch an afternoon bus and not arrive in Taipei too late, but the traffic prevented my speedy return. I am, however, happy to be back in a place for a few days where I won’t have to seek out a new place to stay each night. Now, to figure out what to do with myself today!
What’s Chinese for ‘Sore Ass’?
You never forget how to ride a bike. But, you may forget that, after a long bike-riding hiatus, a whole day of riding is going to take its toll on your ass.
My sore butt is the result of a day of cycling around the town of Ershui here in Taiwan. Thought I’m not, by any means, in capable of sitting down, I’m currently considering skipping a second day of cycling in the nearby town of Jiji. Getting back on a bike seat, makes my bum unhappy. I’m not sure what I might do as an alternative, but I was scheduled to go back to Taipei later in the day, so I might head that way a little earlier than planned.
Despite a sore behind, the day was a good one. Without any problems, I made my way to Ershui from Changhua. As I exited the station, I had the good fortune to cross paths with the owner of a bike rental shop recommended by the good folks at Lonely Planet. They suggested that the place may not be open and they were correct, but as I was checking out the store, she walked past and said hello. At which point, I jumped on the chance to ask about renting a bike somewhere in town. She said she was the owner of the shop and could rent me one even though they were closed.
And with that, I peddled off and reveled in the joy of once again peddling through rural Asia. I had so many good days of wandering on two wheels through the countryside surrounding Ichinoseki in Japan that I was thrilled to be gliding along similar roads. A pagoda here, a temple there and I was having a great time. The most obvious difference between these roads near Ershui and the Iwate landscape is the vegetation. Tawiwan is much more lush than that northern Japanese prefecture and I’m pretty sure the palm trees here wouldn’t last a single winter in Ichinoseki.
I managed to get myself lost more than once and often found myself trying to ascend hills that my wee bike and my out-of-shape legs couldn’t quite handle. That just meant more for me to explore.
I stopped for a quick bite of roadside noodles and when I insisted that I didn’t want any meat with my meal, the woman serving me looked at me like I was insane. At least she understood. In Japan, she might have just thrown some pork on top of my meal anyway. Here, no pig products went to waste and I devoured my first real meal of the day midway through the afternoon.
After my lunch, I headed up to visit a monkey preservation area. Signs warned not to feed the monkeys, but there was one man in particular who had come to the area explicitly for the purpose of feeding them. He had driven his scooter up into the forest and endlessly pulled fruits and vegetables out from the scooter’s hold to feed the greedy primates. They were veritable pets to this old man and they vocally jockeyed for prime fruit picking position.
After watching the macaques frolic, fight and f… um, copulate, I headed back into town to return my bike. I then boarded the Jiji Small Rail line and headed over to Shuili to spend the night. The hotels here were cheaper than at Jiji, so I’ve decided to stay here even though Jiji is the location of another bike path that may be calling my name. But, like I’ve said, my butt may not be up for the challenge. So, who knows what tomorrow will bring.
You Can’t Get There From Here
When the guidebook tells you that the bus station is five blocks south and one block east, sometimes, that means, four blocks south. Yes, there may be a bus station at that first location, but not one with a bus that goes to your destination. But fret not, with a little help from the locals and a lot of hand gestures, you’ll get there.
But when the guidebook tells you there are buses running from Changhua to the Taiwan Folk Village, it lies.
I suspect I’ll never know the reason why, but apparently buses no longer run to the Folk Village. When I inquired at the bus station about the trip, I was initially just waived off with only a terse Chinese explanation to guide me. I persisted with some other members of the station staff and eventually figured out that no, you can’t get there from here.
The staff teamed up and helpfully suggested that I go to visit the giant Buddha that sits on a hill overlooking the city as an alternative to my planned day. I was ushered onto a bus and off I went to visit Baguashan.
A network of paths criss cross the hill leading to various points of interest, the most notable of which is, of course, the 22 metre tall Buddha statue. I spent most of the morning wandering the area and taking photos. Other sights on the hill included a temple behind the Buddha, the Nine Dragons Pond and pavilion, and the Silver Bridge. A good place for anyone looking for a picnic spot in Changhua.
I also managed to venture into a couple of temples in the city before heading back up to the hill in the evening to catch the Buddha in a different light.
And now, I’m resting in my hotel room that, yes, cost more than the guidebook suggested. But, despite the guidebooks misinformation, I managed to have a fun day. By the way, I can’t fault – I can’t even imagine the amount of effort that would go into putting together a guidebook for an entire country. And keeping it up to date is near impossible. As soon as one establishment changes a price, you need a new edition. Though, I would very much have liked to have gone to the Folk Village.
Lukang and Lung Disease
Okay, so the bus wasn’t so bad. I had my own little green vinyl-covered EZ chair as a seat on the bus and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind lulled me to sleep on the screen at the front of the bus. It didn’t even take as long as I had expected.
Lugang is just as the guidebook described: 90 per cent of it is relatively unremarkable, but the other 10 per cent is lovely.
After checking into my hotel, I started exploring that other 10 per cent. I started with the Old Market Street – a narrow, winding lane where artisans, craftspeople and antique dealers crowd their shops into any available space. Along the way, I chatted (as best as two people with no common language can chat) with a local artist whose specialty was drawing and painting on traditional folding fans. As far as I understood him, people would come in with a photograph and they would commission him to draw a custom design on a fan with the photo as inspiration.
He then fed me some, well, mush. It was a powder that he put into a little paper cup with warm water and it all turned into a runny paste. I tried a couple different kinds, one of which was nice enough. The other had me washing it down with water as soon as decorum allowed. Each of the tastes defied description (by me, at least – I have both a ignorant palate and a narrow vocabulary for tastes).
After the Old Market Street, I wandered to the Nine Turns Lane, another narrow, winding alleyway running through the centre of the old town. This twisting path was formerly used as a defense system, but now seems to only serve as an inconvenient alleyway. I watched a vendor attempt to navigate his cart through the bends only to scrape its top along the walls beside him.
Next, I unwittingly stumbled on the Folk Arts Museum. Housed in a huge mansion, the collection of the museum was interesting enough on its own, but didn’t fare as well when compared to my previous day’s visit to the Royal Palace Museum. I guess I’ve been spoiled by all the emperor’s jade.
My next destination was Lungshan Temple, but my aim was not true. I think I managed to run more than one circle before finding another ornate temple and I stopped there, thinking perhaps that I had found my target. Upon further review, I’m now sure I missed Lungshan temple completely and mistook this smaller temple for the larger one I was seeking. I’m pretty sure I must have passed within metres of Lungshan’s entrance, but somehow missed the mark. However, the keepers of the temple I did find were nice enough to switch on some extra lighting for me as photographed the golden carvings lining every inch of the walls.
Feet throbbing and stomach rumbling, I headed back to a place where I had been greeted earlier in English. The restaurant turned out to be a burrito place run by a Taiwanese man who had lived most of his life in Texas. The affable gent was ever so pleased to offer me an extra large vegetarian burrito and I was even more pleased to eat it. Finding vegetarian fare in Taiwan is proving to be possibly even more challenging than in Japan. At least in Japan, I had a hope of making myself understood in Japanese that I didn’t eat meat. Here, I can’t even find the phrases in the guidebook.
Last stop for the day was Matsu temple. A lot more Spartan than the temple I had previously visited, the Matsu temple still made for a good wander in the evening.
But with my feet already preparing to explode, I ambled the block back to my hotel where I’m now willing my feet to skip the blister stage and go straight to callous. I mean, I’m only a couple days into my trip and already my feet want to fall off? I’m hoping that’s not a trend that keeps up or four months from now, I’ll but crawling on my hands dragging stumps behind me where legs should be.
Though, in Taiwan, I suspect, someone would loan me a wheelchair if that were the case. The people here have been genuinely friendly for the most part. And if they’re not friendly, they’re not rude – they just tend not to notice you. Well, there is the guy next door right now with a serious phlegm problem who’s attempting to shatter a record for loudest hack possible. But I don’t know if that’s really rude here. Just seems to be par for the course in some parts of Asia. This guy has nothing on the folks in Hong Kong though. Those guys can cough up a loogie like the stuff was valuable. Hooray for rampant overpopulation resulting in ever-present contagion of respiratory illness!
I just hope he’s going to cough himself to sleep soon.
A Pause Before Lukang
7:45 am
I’d rather be waiting for a train than a bus. Trains have an elegance to them I have learned to appreciate since in Japan.
Maybe it was just the fault of the bullet train there. Those were things of beauty. So much so that my sister, when she arrived in Tokyo, became completely obsessed with these technological marvels to the point we had to return to a particular toy store to buy the rest of their bullet train paraphernalia after we had only bought half of it on the previous visit.
Cute mascots aside, the shinkansen was indeed the way to travel in Japan. Gliding just over the ground at 300 kilometres per hour can’t be beaten.
Certainly not by the folks here at Ubus, Taiwan. Fine folks though they may be, I am not expecting the quality ride of a bullet train on my eventual departure for Lukang this morning.
I could have taken a train and I probably should have. But, when talking to the manager of the hostel at which I stayed last night, she suggested taking the bus. Cheaper and faster were the selling points. And considering that I’ve incurred some unexpected costs in the last couple of days, the cheaper part sounded especially attractive.
But it turns out I would only be saving a couple dollars and maybe a half hour of time. The problem is this two hour wait I have before boarding. Who knows how frequently the trains run. What I should have done was check the price and time here at the bus station and when I found out about the two hour wait, I could have easily headed over to the train station to check their prices and times. Alas, 20/20 hindsight, but hopefully a lesson learned and on the way back, hopefully, I will be more awake to take advantage of what should have been a little common sense.
Speaking of common sense, I truly that picking up all of your belongings is just one of those things you happen to do when getting up to board a train. Me, not so much. And yesterday, I finally bid farewell to my tripod.
That little camera stand is now in the hands of someone else. And really, I think it would be happier there. It has always been trying to escape me by camouflaging itself into the ground when I go to pick it up when picking up my things. The thing was just waiting for this day when I would leave it behind long enough for someone else to come along. I thought I had treated it well, but apparently it was disgruntled.
No, yesterday, it happened to blend in with a train platform on the Taiwan metro. When I went to board the train, there it lay, stealthily dodging my gaze. I boarded the train, sat down then realized something was missing. I darted off the car before the doors closed, but in one of my more idiotic moments simply assumed that I must have left the tripod back at the hostel. I didn’t even think to look at the bench where I had just been sitting. But, I suspect that even if I had, that wily former tripod of mine would have scurried behind a bench leg and out of my view. That thing really didn’t like me. I know it.
So, instead of my planned itinerary of fun and photos for the evening, I got to go on a shopping trip. It didn’t last long. After wandering to the area where I was likely to find a camera shop, I soon spotted a Leica logo and followed it into a small used store where a tripod almost identical to my old one awaited me. Easy! And the shopkeeper’s wife told me I was handsome too. Mind you, she was in her sixties and probably not my type, but still…
Damn it. As I have been writing this, a bus has boarded for Chanhua, a city very close to Lukang. It’s boarding an hour and a half before my bus. And they didn’t give ma an option to get on that bus at the counter! Grr. I know I have to be a patient person to be a traveller, but I think Japan’s unfailing adherence to schedules has spoiled me. Oh well. With my laptop here, I can use the time productively.
Since I have the time here, I might as well chronicle the rest of yesterday’s fun. Aside from the tripod incident, it was a great day. My first stop was the National Palace Museum where millennia of Asian art makes its home. I think my favourite would have been some of the jade carvings – there was one plate in particular that caught my eye. It wasn’t the most practical of dinnerware, but then again, who eats off jade? It was full of hundreds of holes that surrounded a slithering dragon. Actually, It might have made a good sieve.
After the museum, I wandered over to the Shilin gardens. They used to be a part of the grounds for the estate of a dictator. Well, apparently, this particular dictator had a lot of fun exploiting his citizens because his gardens were pretty nice. Nice enough for at least a dozen pairs newlyweds to be taking their wedding photos there. Around every corner there was a new bride and groom with a photographer ordering them around. I found it odd that all this was happening on a Monday, but I’ll just chalk it up to being an ignorant foreigner or something.
Next was my fun with the tripod. But after securing my new three-legged friend (who will never, ever be leaving my side, by the way), I headed over in the direction of Longshan temple. Even during the evening, the place was buzzing with the activity of worshippers. I wandered about and tested the new tripod, all the while thinking that I’ll have to go back during the day to see if some of the people there will consent to a photo or two. The darkness didn’t make for the best portrait lighting, so I think I’ll have to return when it’s light out.
Cross your fingers that my bus has a speedy passage to Lukang and I can have a good time taking some photos or the old city there.
Sophomore Mistake
10:40 am
Okay, so those earlier mistakes of mine were nothing. Nothing compared to the $70 mistake I made when I left my ticket to Taipei somewhere in Calgary.
Now, it’s not as dumb as it sounds. I had changed my ticket to Taipei for a later date and was then issued an itinerary via email. With that itinerary printed out and in hand, I approached the China Airlines counter. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until my ticket agent ran off with my booking number.
She retrieved her manager who then proceeded to ask me if I had my ticket. I told her I only had the itinerary delivered via email. What I didn’t realize was that since the original ticket was issued as a paper ticket, I was still, apparently, travelling on a paper ticket. A paper ticket that was now somewhere in the trash in Calgary.
She the informed me that I would need to buy another ticket. And then I shot laser beams from my eyes that obliterated half of the airport. Or, at least, I wanted to. Instead, I desperately asked if there was some other way I would be able to get on this flight without buying another ticket. She wracked her brains and told me that I could say that I had lost my ticket, pay $70 and then be allowed to board the plane.
I begrudgingly accepted the offer and watched some wee Asian girl dressed in purple hustle off around a corner with my itinerary, my Visa card and my passport (in other words, my life lines). I nervously waited for her return. When she came back, I happily signed away some cash that I had not budgeted for this use and got my boarding pass.
So yes, I am still going to Taiwan. But just barely.
All of this drove out of my mind that, just before this incident, I had ordered a couple of veggie burgers from Burger King only to have them delivered to me with no patties. Is this just how they do it there now? If this morning is any indication of how this trip is going to proceed, I should get ready for a lot of surprises, big and small.
Rookie Mistakes
8:00 am
I haven’t even left the country and, on this trip, I’m already two mistakes old. Neither of them were especially serious, but easily avoided.
First, I had a sudden rush of panic when I realized I had enterer the Calgary airport still wearing my winter coat. Ordinarily, donning a winter coat in the Calgary airport in January isn’t such a big deal, but when you’re embarking on a trip to Southeast Asia and you have very limited packing space, a winter coat is not a wise choice of clothing. I’m sure, once I got to, say Thailand, I could claim it was a fashion statement, but in 40 degree weather, that’s not a statement anyone wants to hear.
So, I quick rush to the payphone to call my chauffeur, (a.k.a. dad), and I was sorted. My only comment to him as returned was, ‘Well, I hope that’s the last mistake I make for a while.’
If what I meant by ‘a while’ was a half hour, then I was right on the money.
I made the rookie travel mistake of carrying a pair of fold-up scissors in my carry-on. It was confiscated of course, but what amazed me about the whole affair is how many flights I must have taken with those very same scissors in the exact same location without having them noticed by security. Go figure.
This will be my last report from Canada as I now sit in the Vancouver airport waiting for the ticket booth to open for my next flight. Next stop, Taiwan.
Up and Away
As of Saturday, January 7th, 2006, you can officially consider me a nomad, or, if you prefer, a hobo. Your choice really. I’m setting off for Asia once again and I don’t exactly know when I’ll be back home in Calgary. In fact, I’m not even positive when I will once again have a proper home.
I plan to seek some modicum of stability once I reach New Zealand, but I might just get too excited to explore the country and quickly rush off into a nearby mountain range (until the money runs out of course).
In the meantime, I will be doing my best to update this blog and, if possible, provide the occasional addition to the photo gallery. At the same time, I suspect I’ll be more excited about seeing sights than blogging, but my new year’s resolution is to stay in better touch with people, so I shall try to set aside some time for updates.
And if any photo buyers happen to be interested in my images while I’m away, I will redirect you to my images at Alamy.com. This agency happens to have the best selection of my images, so if you’re in a big rush and can’t wait for me to find a good internet connection in the jungles of Southeast Asia, try Alamy and they will help you out.
My next update will be from somewhere on the other side of the Pacific Ocean, so until then, take care. Next stop, Taiwan!
Upcoming Plans
It’s Wednesday morning. I’m wearing my pajamas and listening to the Constantines. Yesterday, the weather hit a record high temperature for that November date. Today, the Chinook bringing that warm air will still be hovering over the city. Orange juice and a muffin are happily digesting in my warm belly. Home is an okay place to be.
But, such simple pleasures are soon to be usurped by a wholly different set of pleasures. Morning music will be replaced by the noises of Asian markets. Unseasonable warmth will give way to consistent heat and humidity. Breakfast will probably include rice. And these are pleasures to be treasured too.
In January, I will be leaving the comforts of my familiar home for unfamiliar Asian lands. As of right now, my plans are not entirely sorted, but a few destinations have been planned. My journey to Southeast Asia will be interrupted by a couple stops.
First: Vancouver. For a few days, I have been granted the opportunity to catch up with an old friend and stay with him on my way out of North America.
Next, Taiwan. Originally, my flight was going to stop there for one night, but I think nine or ten days would make for a more fun exploration of that particular island. Changing my ticket only costs me $100 so I’m considering it a nearly-free ticket there.
As a side note, A long time ago, I set a goal for myself. I wanted to have visited as many countries as there are years in my life. Technically, I have already hit that goal because, yes, I did visit Taiwan once already while on my way to Calgary. But one night at a hotel hardly counts. When I return to Taiwan and get a proper chance to see the culture, I will then have hit the mark of 30 countries in 30 years.
After Taiwan, I will finally make it back to Southeast Asia. I will stop in Kuala Lumpur for a couple days before heading off to Siem Reap, Cambodia for a good nine or so days of temple exploration. I’m already looking forward to staying in a guesthouse run by a man named Chum. You just know he’s going to be friendly…
I’ll then be returning to Kuala Lumpur in time for Chinese New Year. At this point, my plans start to get a little hazy. I would like to see more of Malaysia because my last time there was spent mostly in bed with a temperature of about one million degrees and a few gallons of unwanted liquid in my lungs. I’m not interested in doing the medical tour of Malaysia this time, so hopefully I’ll get to see a few more interesting spots like the Cameron Highlands and the rainforests of Taman Negara.
I plan to be back in Kuala Lumpur for the Thaipusam festival on February 11th. At this Hindu celebration, thousands flock to the nearby Batu Caves to be skewered by substantial pieces of metal. This piercing rite should make for some great photos if I can keep myself from passing out. But, given the number of injections I suffered at the hands of my pneumonia, I think I might have raised my tolerance for the sight of flesh being pierced.
The month after Thaipusam is where details get really sketchy. I have a good four weeks to travel in Southeast Asia and I currently have no real itinerary. I might hit Borneo, Vietnam and/or Laos, but all I know at this point is that I need to be in Bangkok, Thailand of March 14th or so. There I will meet a couple friends who will be travelling down there from Japan.
After a few weeks of Thai travel, I’ll be just about ready to begin my next adventure: New Zealand! (Well, I might stop in Singapore first.) I’m planning on heading to another island nation to live and work. Armed with a working holiday visa, I plan on doing whatever I can to support my photography addiction/business.
Speaking of photography, that has been my main focus while here at home. Processing photos, website development and stock agency submissions take up most of my time now.
I know I haven’t written in a while, but that doesn’t mean life has been uneventful. A couple weddings attended (one was a complete surprise), a few great bands seen, scores of zombies photographed, a host of friendships and family relations renewed, and plenty of other good times have kept me happy here in my hometown.
But since it is never a bad time to have a good time, I think I might just get out of these PJs and go enjoy some of that unseasonably warm weather.
Home Again
I am home. I am jet lagged.
It is six in the morning and I have already been a wake for the past hour. This is not by choice. Right now, in my head, it is 8 pm. So, with a little bit of music to keep my company on this ever-too-early morning, I’ll simply rejoice in being home.
Home is, like a fish flapping on the ground and gasping for air, flopping between the totally familiar and the subtly changed (and thus, unsettlingly foreign). A few moments of reverse culture shock have me shaking my head and those societal rules it only takes a year to forget – note to self, remember which side they drive on here?
Seeing my family again has been great and I look forward to spending more time with them. Some details from an email written to a friend this morning:
My parents are so happy to have me here. It’s kind of silly really. All last night, they had enormous grins stretched across their faces.
Oh and (my dog) Arthur – he’s hilarious. He’s gone quite deaf and so when we got home, he didn’t hear us come in. He was sleeping peacefully in another room. So, I went in and woke up with my voice. He was very groggy and confused. He eventually started sniffing me and I think once he had figured everything out, he just said to himself, “Oh, okay, this is how things are supposed to be,” and carried on with his normal routine of trying to get a treat from my parents when they come home.
It was just weird because there wasn’t that moment of “Holy crap! Darby’s here!” It was just, “Oh, you’re home. Well, carry on then.” And now he just acts like nothing had ever changed. He hangs out with me and looks for love and kisses. No fanfare, just resuming where we left off.
And now at six in the morning, painfully conscious, I am sitting at an old desk, steeling myself for the tasks ahead of me: Make plans for my next travels and finish the damn web site. This albatross around my neck gets to drop away while I’m in Calgary. Mark my words. And mark these too – I will make the best of the Kuala Lumpur debacle. My possibilities are so endless I don’t know how I couldn’t.
Pneumonia, Body and Mind
Two days ago, I was lying on a stretcher in a brightly lit and far-too-cool doctor’s office in Malaysia with an IV sticking into my right wrist. Antibiotics flowed from a bag above, down a long plastic tube, and into my veins. An old copy of National Geographic rested precariously in my one useable hand. I was reading an article about the claims various nations were making to territories in the South China Sea – the part of the world in which I happened to be located.
The article detailed the author’s travels through the area while he attempted to gauge the attitudes of those who will be affected by the conflicting claims on the region. At one point, he described his experience hitching a ride with a cargo ship and learning along the way of the risks of piracy in these waters. At that point, he stated something along these lines: ‘The romantic fabric of travelling sometimes does not stretch far enough to cover up the realities of what you are facing.’ I am paraphrasing, but that was the gist of his point. This point forced a deep sigh of understanding from my enfeebled lungs.
Tonight, I find those words resonating with me still. Soon, I will take four different kinds of pills, a sachet of dissolvable powder, and two teaspoons of cough syrup. After that, I will hook myself up to a machine that will pump medicine into my lungs. If I don’t, I may not be able to breath properly. Such is pneumonia.
A fever came suddenly three weeks ago. One minute I was running an errand and feeling a little sluggish, two hours later, I was in bed, hoping the sheets would not reach their flashpoint from the heat I was radiating. With the classic run-over-by-a-bus flu feeling, I lay in bed for a couple days, completely useless.
On about the third day, I woke to find myself in a puddle. No, it was not a nightmare that had forced me to regress and wet the bed. Instead, it was the fever breaking (or so I thought). Sweat had poured from every pore and left a darkened outline on the bed. The scene resembled a filled-in chalk outline of a corpse. After finding some replacement sheets, I went back to bed and soaked those as well.
The night’s perspirations brought optimism in the morning. ‘One more doctor’s office dodged,’ I thought since I felt well enough to actually step outside into the city. In comparison with the previous day, I felt like a marathon runner, but in reality, I was still quite under the weather. But optimism prevailed and I carried on as though delivering a clean bill of health to myself was a perfectly normal and medically-acceptable practice.
That’s when the cough started. First, a tickle. Then a wheeze or two. Then, a doubled-over, throat and lung spasm that left me whimpering after each attack. Oh yeah, and the fever and aches came back too.
When this worsened condition of mine persisted, I relented and went to the doctor. My determination that I could fix anything that was wrong with me had failed. My fears of doctors sticking sharp objects into me were pushed aside by my slightly greater fear that there was something genuinely wrong with me.
And indeed there was. My worried doctor pronounced right away that he thought I might have a minor case of pneumonia. Soon, those fears of mine of doctors sticking sharp things into me became true. My first experience with an IV had me grimacing the whole way thorough.
The clinic I visited was recommended to me by all the expats I had met so far here in Malaysia. Foreign patients are their specialty. This place has become my home away from hotel. The good doctors there have been slowly filling me with small puncture holes and with medicine. I have shown signs of improvement which gives rise to optimism, but still, I believe I have hit a temporary travel limit.
The mind’s connection with the body is obviously such that changes to your body affect changes to your mind. Do enough nasty things to your body and some of that abuse is likely to manifest itself in your thought patterns.
Where once an extended conversation with a charming cab driver about his indomitable passion for karaoke would have had me grinning the whole day, now that conversation is somewhat one-sided because I have to cough and wheeze my way through it. Where once the kids at the markets playing with their toys would have found a new playmate in me, I pass by because I’m on my way back to the hotel to sleep. Where once a sunset would captivate me and send me trotting off to find the best angle to photograph it, I can only watch from my hotel window because I don’t have the energy to haul my gear to a good vantage point.
This miserable attitude has no place in my luggage. I would much rather my spirit be lifted by all of the extraordinary experiences of travel, but when your body doesn’t enjoy the journey, your mind tends to follow along.
With that knowledge in mind, I am doing everything I can to heal this body of mine and with it, my attitude.
And soon, I will be heading home. After more than 13 months of being separated from my family and friends, we will be reunited. My head will rest on a familiar pillow and my lungs will breathe their native air. I have my fingers crossed that the air of my home will trigger a memory of health in my lungs and they will once again function normally. Barring that, I will rest.
I will rest knowing that all of this will soon just be another adventure tale to tell. I will sleep with the knowledge that as my body heals, so will my head. And after my convalescence is complete, I will wake up with itchy feet, wondering where I should go next.
Back to the Suitcase
Note to self: Future roommate selection screening processes shall include means of evaluating the sanity of the potential sharer of your dwelling.
That said, I am now laughing at the absurdity of now being homeless in Kuala Lumpur and adjusting my plans for the future so that they don’t revolve around living here in Malaysia. Time to decide what to explore next!
An Overdue Update
Well, it’s been a ridiculously long time since I’ve done any writing. I hardly know where to begin. I last wrote about my experiences being enthusiastically tackled by Japanese four year-olds while teaching kindergarten and that feels like it was about a year ago.
Since then, I’ve compressed a year’s worth of experiences into the last few months. I’ve grown immensely close with a number of my friends from Japan, worked my butt off, turned 30, watched others turn other ages (usually younger), sang hours and hours of karaoke, said more painful goodbyes than I ever needed to, visited Tokyo with my sister, travelled in Hong Kong, moved to Kuala Lumpur, and started a new life.
So, I haven’t had journal keeping as a top priority for a while now. However, as I settle into my new home in KL, I hope that perhaps I will eventually get more time to record some of my thoughts and experiences. A number of the events of the last few months deserve their own entries and I may retroactively fill in some of the gaps. We’ll see if life cooperates with this endeavour. If my Internet connection remains as terrible as it is now, we may be in luck – I can write in between page loads’
A Birthday Update
I’m not a terribly materialist person. Fancy cars, expensive watches, gold-plated diapers; these mean little to me. I tend to go for function over form with most of my possessions.
The lone exception may be gadgetry. I like having nice toys. While my financial situation rarely affords me the opportunity to indulge in my fantasy of an unlimited shopping spree through Yodobashi camera, I do have a few chip-laden tools that are near and dear to me.
The most prized of these possessions is my computer. My lovely little Powerbook, over the course of the last year has become my darkroom, my journal, my stereo and CD collection, my DVD player, my video arcade, my answering machine, my post office, my newspaper and even my television.
So, when my hard drive on said Powerbook decides to quit the world of the living, I get sad. Fortunately, however, before slipping into eternal slumber, I was able to diagnose its terminal condition and backup the contents of the drive. Very little data was lost, so that was a big plus. The downsides were the big sum of cash I had to pay to get it fixed and the two-week delay in its return to me.
So, that explains why I haven’t exactly been punctual with my journal entries as of late.
Instead of the verbose, bored-in-the-office-with-little-else-to-do entries that could have occurred in the last couple of weeks, you will now get the condensed version.
The past couple of weekends have featured a couple birthday parties. The first was Brent’s whose bash included a great deal of food consumption and another spectacular round of karaoke. Sarah and I spent a good part of the day grating the raw materials necessary to create Sarah’s delicious veggie sausage rolls. Every tear shed into the grated onions just added the flavour of devotion to the project.
Sarah was also the mastermind behind our gift to Brent: a shrine devoted to the legendary Cliff Richard. Now, Brent holds a large place in the bottom of his heart for the master English songsmith, so it seemed only appropriate to find a leopard-print picture frame to house a photo of the young Mr. Richard at his pouty, come-hither best. Add to that some incense and candles plus a custom-made CD of Cliff’s magna opi (or magnum opuses to all you folks you don’t like to try to conjugate Latin) and Brent was pretty much in hysterics. Mission accomplished.
The next day, a group of us headed north to Kitakami for Italian lunch then a performance by Kodo, the drumming troupe from the Japanese island of Sado. An ear-ringingly good time was had by all.
The next five days counted as my fourth successive week of elementary school teaching. Even now, after being here for a year, I am still going to new schools and giving, self-intro lessons. That made for a few fun moments on June 21st when I inevitably had to tell the curious class when my birthday was. I was treated to numerous choruses of ‘Happy Birthday’ with each of them stumbling when they had reached ‘Dear Da-bi”
That evening, Sarah was kind enough to cook a quiet dinner for me en lieu of a party – that was coming later. Gnocchi was followed by brownies that were destined to become the first in a long line of heavily-sugared foodstuffs to be delivered to me as a birthday gift.
Everyone here knows that I’ll be heading off to Malaysia soon and I don’t want to pack along a lot of extra baggage. They also know I have a sweet tooth that can bite through just about anything. What they may have overestimated, however, is the ability of my body to actually process the amount of refined sugar that now sits in my apartment. Maybe if I had a few months to eat it all, I could manage, but with only a month before I live, I suspect I will be passing out sweet gifts here and there.
My birthday party this Saturday was a well-attended affair, but there were a few people I would have loved to have there that couldn’t make it. Despite a few absences, a great time was had at a party designed to have me feel like a twelve year old instead of a thirty year old. It was pizza and bowling and the only thing that could have heightened the sense of youthful nostalgia would have been a local Chucky Cheese’s franchise. For the record (and because this is my blog and I’m allowed to be a little vain) I did manage to record the highest bowling score of the evening, a respectable (for me) 141. Jonathan was inches behind with a 140 in a hotly-contested match that came down to the last pin.
Yesterday, Sarah, Josh, and north-side Sarah returned to Kitakami to witness the awesome cinematic spectacle that is Batman Begins. A great movie topped off a great weekend.
Now, with my computer back, I can resume my insatiable consumption of information (though I did manage to finish off a few books while it was gone). But more importantly, I can resume work on my now behind-schedule website. I had hoped to have it finished before I left for Malaysia, but that may now be a difficult proposition. If only all this teaching nonsense didn’t get in the way’
Dancin’ at Kindergarten
If you’ve never seen a five-year-old do the twist, get on it. It’s one of the cuter things you’re likely to witness in this life.
Now imagine 20 five-year old Japanese children all shaking their little hips as best as their uncoordinated bodies will let them and you get an impression of my morning. I spent the morning at Gembi Kindergarten and doing an impression of Vincent Vega with the kids is an image I hope I never lose from my mental imagery file.
Visiting a kindergarten is actually pretty easy. The instructional component of each class is minimal (even more so than elementary school). For the most part, I just play games with the little tykes. In today’s case, I spent half the time dancing with the budding Baryshnikovs. Okay Baryshnikovs is a stretch, but you get the idea.
Any difficulties are addressed (mostly) by the Japanese teachers I work with. Shy or undisciplined students are given hugs or glares respectively and not too much trouble ensues. Really, the only concern I had was for my health. If they weren’t trying to shake my hand with their snot-encrusted fingers, they were plotting ways to get close to my butt to either grab it or poke it. Not that a four year old can do much damage to my butt, (in fact, my butt can probably do more damage to a four your old’), but you can never be too careful. Not to mention, you don’t want to set a bad precedent – bum poking now turns into the infamous kancho later.
I didn’t fear for my safety while being tackled by a hoarde of three years olds. You could probably pile a couple dozen on top of me before I would be unable to burst forth like He-Man in a swarm of enemies. No, the tackling was good fun and the kids made no effort to exploit my vulnerable position.
Instead, the only time any harm came my way was while playing London Bridge. In this harmless game, it’s pretty hard to get injured in any way, but one kid managed to help me to that end. While filing into line, one boy ahead of me decided that giving me an upward-motion karate chop to the groin. He landed a direct hit. But again, he was only four. So, while such a blow delivered by an adult would have landed me in a heap on the floor, this was only mildly surprising.
Though it wasn’t painful, it was, however, a little disappointing. I had managed to make it ten months in Japan without any of my students hitting, groping, poking, pinching, slapping, fondling, kicking, head-butting, elbowing, biting, setting fire to, or otherwise making obviously intentional and inappropriate contact with my genitals.
Sure, at every second urinal where I have a neighbour, I find them trying to sneak a peak at my gaijin endowments (I swear, one day, I’m just going to pee on someone), but no one has really tried to do any damage there before. Fortunately for me, his attempt to render me infertile was unsuccessful (at least, I assume so – we’ll have to wait for the test results).
So aside from the testicle punching and germ-ridden hands, kindergarten is actually a good time. But next time, maybe I’ll wear a cup.
Recent Memories
I want to share all these thoughts, memories and experiences with you, but the days are too short.
I want to tell you about chest bumping with my students and being hurled halfway down the hall when one of them, with the build of a junior sumo wrestler, bumped me and sent me flying. His low centre of gravity and pudgy frame makes him into an immovable object and me into an off-balance, stumbling clown. He is the chest bump champion.
I want to tell you about how I utter miniature prayers for deliverance every time I walk to Yasakae Junior High. There is a stretch of road where the sidewalk ends and I have to walk on the street while 18-wheelers carrying crushed cars, agricultural equipment, or toxic waste scream past. Their unstoppable frames push me aside with their currents and each time I hear them approaching from behind, my brain whispers, “Please don’t kill me.”
I want to tell you about the low-flying clouds and the light and shadow they cast over these rural hills. I want to stop and set up a tripod, but instead I have to continue on from the bus stop to the school to do my job. But these clouds, you would just have to climb a low hill and you would be able to jump up and touch them. I had never understood how enormous Calgary’s skies were until I left them.
I want to tell you about teaching my students to call me “handsome sensei” and hearing them giggle endlessly through class.
I want to tell you about the girl at in grade four Ichinoseki elementary who speaks better English than any of my other students at any level. When I told her that her English was great, she matter-of-factly told me, “I’m half.” I later learned she has lived in America. But every time I see her, I am so thrilled because I get to interact with one of my students in a more meaningful way. We can actually understand each other. The language barrier doesn’t exist and it is so freeing.
The other day, I was playing basketball with her and some other students when one of my shots bounced off the back of the rim, over the backboard and got stuck between the backboard and railing above it. Already giddy from playing with the kids, I laughed, “I don’t think I could do that again if I tried!” She understood perfectly and said, “I don’t think you could either!”
Now, I don’t know if I can communicate to you just how significant this is. As I have often said, my Japanese is terrible. And I must now say the awful truth here: these kids, their English is terrible. It’s an unfortunate fact that I am trying to change, but for now, it’s a fact. Yes, we can communicate with each other, but it’s only through considerable effort on everyone’s part and the messages are always simple.
But with this girl, I can actually converse with her. In the middle of English class with me, while learning such simple phrases as, “I like baseball,” she occasionally turns to me and blurts out, “This is too easy!” I think I might make her teach the class next time.
I want to tell you about every moment of my recent tour of Japan and how I felt so alive behind the camera. My feet ached after 15 hours of walking in a day, but the only reason I went to bed was so that I wouldn’t get sick and prevent myself from seeing more. If I could have, I would have shot and explored all night.
I want to tell you about every soccer goal I’ve scored and every basket I’ve made. And I want to tell you about every shot scored against me and every basket scored by the opposing teams. I’m competitive enough with myself that I still get excited when I score a basket – even if it’s against a bunch of 12 year olds. But, I love these kids enough that when their efforts against me yield success, I am just as happy.
Sometimes, I actually impress myself. At one of my schools, the basketball games sometimes resemble rugby more than basketball. The gym often gets full way past capacity and a hundred kids crowd a single court. At any given time, there may be three or four basketball games going on one court and dozens of other kids playing tag or twirling hula hoops or just running over to say hello. This turns the gym into a living obstacle course. When I impress myself is when I am capable of running the length of the floor without toppling over a tyke. Occasionally, I’m able to finish a play with some Jordan-esque reverse lay-up or a dunk on their less-than-regulation height baskets. At those moments, I truly am the best basketball player in Iwate.
But then, they come back at me. They get near the basket and start their passing. I’ll get in front of one determined to take a shot and he or she will pump fake. I’ll jump into the air and while soaring above a body I already dwarfed, the young star will step around me and deftly flip the ball in for two points. And I yell in mock frustration at my defeat, then in praise and celebration of their skill. We all smile together, then run the other way so I can try to get a pass to a teammate to score.
I want to tell you about the caretaker at Yasakae Junior High and how, if I were staying in Japan for longer, would probably turn into a very good friend. He’s my age and likes video games, snowboarding and punk rock. He’s a kid like me and that’s hard to find in Japan. Something seems to happen to people here when they go to university and enter the workforce. They each emerge from that cocoon as a worker any and only let loose at the occasional enkai.
But not Sato-san. He chest bumps the students with me. He plays soccer and basketball with the kids and me. He takes every chance he can get to ask me about the Rocky Mountains because he would love nothing more than to carve trails through endless powder on his snowboard.
I want to tell you all these things. I want to empty the contents of my brain into a bucket from which you could drink. I want to let you see through my eyes and hear with my ears – hear not only the world around me, but also the din in my head.
But I can’t tell you all these things. There is no time to express everything I feel and think. I am greedy. I want more of these experiences. And I don’t want to miss anything because I was taking too much time to write about yesterday.
South of Japan Trip Recap
I’ve returned from gallivanting in the South of Japan and the hard drive of my laptop is just about full of photos. Time to do some editing…
The trip was fantastic and the weather could hardly have been more cooperative (with the exception of a permanently hazy Mt. Fuji). I walked holes into my shoes and blisters onto my feet (which have now turned to callouses – my formerly baby-soft feet now genuinely have the appearance of a wanderer).
I would love to detail every sight of the trip, but any such writing would quickly become frighteningly long. Instead, I’ll share some more general impressions and events from the past couple of weeks.
I started out with an early shinkansen ride to Tokyo where I headed for the Ueno zoo. Ling-Ling the panda and his fellow residents of the zoo provided me with a days worth of photo opportunities in a park packed with locals soaking up the Saturday sunshine. In the late afternoon, I briefly explored more of the Ueno area where I felt my time was severely lacking. I love Tokyo and I’m looking forward to when my sister comes to visit me so that I can see more of it.
My hotel for the evening was located in Asakusa so that gave me a good excuse to spend the evening at Senso-ji – a Tokyo temple famous for the hustle and bustle surrounding it.
Sunday saw me making my way to the Fuji Five Lakes where I hoped to catch a glimpse of one of Japan’s most recognizable landmarks: Mt. Fuji. My prospects looked good when I left Tokyo on the highway bus; the snow-capped peak was clearly visible in the distance.
Approaching Kawaguchi-ko, however, haze had enveloped the mountain and its form was an indistinct blur in the sky. So, I decided to do some walking in the area. Kawaguchi is a cute lakeside town and a couple of temples, cherry-blossom-covered cemetery and a seriously bizarre private zoo greeted my steps. While the sun arced toward the horizon, that great cone giving the area its popularity suggested that it might come out to play. As I reached a suitable spot for taking a few photos, the haze once again shrouded the mountain and my photos lack the clarity I had hoped I might enjoy.
The next morning, Fuji-san drifted in and out of the clouds and I hurriedly bussed to one area I was told would yield a good view of the mountain. After a quick hike up a nearby mountain (whose stature paled in comparison to Fuji’s) I found myself observing a curious meteorological phenomenon: small clouds hovered in front of the peak and eventually drifted towards me and to the left. In their wake, they left more clouds hovering directly in front of the peak.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have all day to wait out the clouds and I descended the mountain to check out the nearby Narusawa ice caves. This brief stop could probably have been skipped – the caves aren’t really that much of an attraction.
So, with a cloudy Fuji toying with me, I decided it was time to start the next leg of my trip and I struck out for Kyoto. Of course, while riding the bus out of Kawaguchi-ko, Fuji taunted me by shooing the clouds from the sky and towering over the landscape. When climbing season rolls around, I think I’ll have to climb that sucker just out of spite…
Kyoto was six days of glorious temple and shrine hopping. I had been warned not to overdose on temples, but I think my temple tolerance level is pretty high. Each one was unique and would pose its own set of photographic challenges, so I was happy to bounce from one lovely, old Japanese building to the next. Rather than list off each of the locations I visited, I’ll let my photos do the talking in this case.
With Kyoto having turned my feet into chum, I headed for the relative peace of Koya San where my accommodation was a Buddhist temple. Finally, I was going to get the chance to sample some traditional Japanese vegetarian food – the stuff they used to eat before the dominant sect of Japanese Buddhism went all flaky and allowed for the consumption of meat. The multi-part meals had some parts better than others and made for a fun glimpse into the culture.
Among other sights on Koya San was one of the most fantastic cemeteries I have ever seen. In fact, I think it ranks a close second to the Old Jewish Cemetery in Prague. Okuno-in’s extensive grounds were rainy the evening I spent there, but that set the mood quite nicely. Huge cedar trees surrounded enormous and varied tombs fighting a never-ending battle with the forest’s moss.
The next morning, the rain eventually abated, first yielding to atmospheric mist, then to pristine blue sky. Having wandering in the cemetery for the morning, I changed gears from traditional Japan into modern Japan and boarded the train for Osaka.
My hotel there was in the worst neighbourhood I have yet seen in Japan, but that doesn’t say much. The worst neighbourhood in Japan is still a lot better than the best neighbourhood in some places I’ve visited. Scores of homeless folks wandered the streets near my hotel, but I later saw them at their best in the park near Osaka-jo: Their limited resources somehow manage to pool together enough resources to have a karaoke session of old-time Japanese ditties under the trees. So, they seem to be getting along okay.
I spent that afternoon at the Osaka Aquarium marveling at the whale shark gracefully meandering through the world’s largest tank. He was definitely the highlight of the visit, but other notable sea creatures included a sun fish, a manta ray, the biggest sea otters I have ever seen and a few flocks of jellyfish.
Osaka acted as a base to explore a couple of nearby sights. First on the list was Nara. Nara is home to hundreds of semi-domesticated deer and the world’s largest wooden building featuring one of the world’s largest bronze figures: a meditative Buddha who would crush hundreds if it ever toppled thus hurtling the religion’s doctrine of compassion into a paradox…
On this day, a ceremony involving what appeared to be some rather high ranking religious officials crowded the area immediately in front of the daibutsu, but the building still afforded great views of the statue.
The whole area was packed with people on enjoying one of their Golden Week vacation days – this made for some good people watching and eventually, some very satisfied deer. By the afternoon, the deer cakes (biscuits sold by various vendors meant as food for the local fauna) that were once inspiring the ungulates to chase down the bearers of these treats were being rejected. Disappointed children kept shoving crackers into deer faces only to have them fall to the hooves of the disinterested animal.
I suspect it was this large number of people and animals mixing that lead to a few good buttings later in the day. I saw one deer with goat-like horns attempt to use them to gore a ten-year old boy who had penetrated the deer’s comfort zone. The kid got away completely unscathed and didn’t even cry after the deer had pushed him back a few feet with its head. He just looked stunned and returned to his father’s side.
The other child I saw get hit was less fortunate. Saying I saw it, however, is a bit inaccurate – I heard it. I was shooting photos of some distant deer when the sound of a spectacular collision filled the forest. About 30 feet to my left, a deer hovered over a now crumpled mass of a child who started bawling once the air had returned to his lungs. The boy’s father rushed him away from the irked animal, but not before a fear of ungulates imprinted itself in this kids mind.
I would advise anyone going to the area to keep a short leash on their kids while interacting with the wildlife. While these critters are extremely habituated to human presence, they’re still wild animals and their behaviour can be unpredictable. You never know when one is going to think it sees a target on your butt.
The next day I struck out from Osaka once more to visit Himeji and Japan’s most-famous castle, Himeji-jo. I certainly enjoyed this well-preserved fortress, but I think I must be partial to European castles – Himeji castle just didn’t overwhelm me like it perhaps should have. That didn’t stop me from spending a good part of the day there though.
On my return, I explored Osaka and found myself on top of the ultra-modern Umeda sky building for sunset. Good views of Osaka kept me out in the open air before wandering through Amerika-mura and the neon glow of downtown Osaka.
I had some time on the following morning to see a little more of Osaka, so I decided to check out Osaka-jo, the city’s castle. The experience was rather different from the pervious day’s trip to Himeji-jo. Himeji castle was completely persevered in its original state. This was most noticeable inside the castle – visitors are able to see the original wood and plaster in which the feudal lords once lived.
In Osaka-jo, however, the castle is now a concrete museum. It was rebuilt in 1931 and refurbished in 1997. It’s full of modern displays of artwork, artifacts and history. The castle still makes for an interesting visit, but a decidedly different atmosphere resides inside Himeji-jo’s original walls.
The best part of the visit to Osaka castle, however, was the group of samurai milling about at its base. Characters of all ages were dressed din authentic samurai gear and spent a good portion of their time blowing through conch shells. Ever more warriors seemed to answer their call and by the time I left, a couple dozen armor-clad anachronisms were guarding the area beneath Osaka-jo’s main tower.
Hiroshima was next on my itinerary. I didn’t expect a busy day of shooting photos, but when I arrived, I soon discovered that the Flower Festival was in full swing and I wouldn’t be having the peaceful night I had expected. The main boulevard leading to the Peace Park was closed to traffic and crammed full of people wandering from vendor to vendor, stage to stage, performance to performance. Marching bands, traditional dancers, orators, baton twirlers, cheerleaders, singers, etc. all kept the throngs busy.
The Peace Park was also host to festivities. A giant pyramid of potted flowers topped by a torch beckoned all passers by and the dim evening light was soon outshined by thousands of candles lit in the name of peace and spread out on tables leading through the Peace Park.
The candles made for quite a sight in the park and brought home just how much the residents of this city are still tied to its past. The latter point was re-enforced the next day when I visited the Peace Memorial Museum. A comprehensive history teaches visitors about each detail of the attack on Hiroshima. Needless to say, it’s a moving display and a necessary stop for anyone who makes their way to Hiroshima.
That afternoon, I boarded the ferry to Miya-jima, an island just off the coast whose fame lies in possessing one of Japan’s “Three Greatest Views.” Let’s just put it this way: the Japanese like lists. Miya-jima’s spectacular sight is the floating torii gate that rises out of the ocean and into the sky. This huge red gate is the scene of endless postcards and is indeed a magical sight.
I was greeted by intermittent rain, but not so much that I couldn’t enjoy my evening walking by the ocean and dodging the deer (yes, Miya-jima is host to another group of people-habituated deer).
The morning brought grey skies which soon turned to clear blue and I meandered through the ocean-side shrine of Itsukushima-jinja. The tide was in and made the whole structure feel like it was an island to itself.
As the sun broke through, the tide waned and the clam diggers materialized. Dozens of rubber-boot-clad locals descended on the now-exposed stretches of beach and began digging holes and sifting through the exposed sand to reveal crustaceans a plenty. Tourists flocked to the nearby torii or had lunch on the sea wall while fleeing from hungry deer. I walked through the hills and found a lovely temple (Daiso-in), some waterfalls and more deer.
I spent a quiet evening in Hiroshima in preparation for my early shinkansen trip the next morning. I headed to Tokyo as soon as my body could be roused from slumber and quickly made my way to the Kokugikan Sumo stadium.
What I would have given to have a press pass at this event. My seats were in the first row of the balcony and were fine enough spots to take in the action. But, never content with fine enough, I slipped down to the floor level and found myself a nice spot only a couple rows back from the ring. I suspect this was a common practice, since most of my neighbours didn’t look like they belonged there either.
This was the first day of competition and thus the celebrations and pageantry were plentiful later in the day. But, early on, fighting was the only thing on anyone’s mind. The salt-tossing and thigh-slapping were kept to a minimum and every rookie fighter just got in the ring to try to knock down the other guy. It made for some good fun. These gents were not quite as behemoth as the later wrestlers, but just as fierce.
When the lights rose signaling the beginning of the television broadcast, I was, unfortunately, ushered out of my posh seat and forced to re-assume my position high above the ring. I snapped away at a distance for a while then realized there spots at the pack of the lfoor level, so I started wandering down there once again while the larger, more adept fighters battled each other.
My last act before heading home was to partake in the uniquely Japanese tradition of omiyage. I found some great little chocolates in the shape of sumo wrestlers that won me some favour back at the office. Everyone thought they were a great little gift. It was my plan all along to get sumo omiyage both for the novelty of it and for the fact that I wouldn’t have to carry it throughout my trip. It’s all about the planning…
I caught one of the last bullet-trains home and lamented the end of my trip. Wandering with my camera is the life for me and Ichinoseki just isn’t as exciting as say, Kyoto. But, you make the best of what you have. It was, however, great to come home to see my friends and to get some much-needed rest.
The South of Japan
I’m off for a couple weeks for a trip to the South of Japan. Soon, I’ll be behind the lens for two whole weeks exploring some of the best sites Japan has to offer. Yay! Here’s the plan:
- April 23 – Tokyo
- April 24 – Five Lakes
- April 25 – Kyoto
- April 26 – Kyoto
- April 27 – Kyoto
- April 28 – Kyoto
- April 29 – Kyoto
- April 30 – Kyoto
- May 1 – Mount Koya
- May 2 – Osaka
- May 3 – Hijemi (from Osaka)
- May 4 – Nara (from Osaka)
- May 5 – Hiroshima
- May 6 – Hiroshima – Miyajima
- May 7 – Miyajima – Hiroshima
- May 8 – Tokyo. Sumo!
So, without further ado, I’m off to pack!
Contentment
We shifted only slightly with the movement of the car through the turns. Sarah flirted with falling asleep in the back seat while Kurt serenaded the smiling chauffeur Racheal to the tune of Wilco’s ‘Passenger Side’ from, of course, the passenger side. The afternoon sun was golden and the air shimmered in its light. We were all at peace weaving past the rice paddies and cedars on the way to Ichinoseki.
Racheal’s birthday weekend brought a group of us North to Mizusawa where the fine food of a restaurant named Ajito beckoned. (Of note, Ajito is not too far from a thrift shop named Second-Hand Sixty Nine, and a pub named Swallow among other establishments with suggestive Engrish.)
Crammed into a reserved room, Tim (it was also his birthday party) and Racheal had gathered a good crowd for the festivities. We feasted. We brushed off the drunken rudeness of one of the Japanese guests as his social coordination became more lax with every sip of beer. With Josh and north-side Sarah, we discussed the endless tragic possibilities of motivating pets through a liberal smearing of peanut butter. We laughed a lot.
At the post-dinner karaoke, we rocked the mic. My opening salvo was a duet with Josh of the Darkness’ ‘I Believe in a Thing Called Love.’ My falsetto wails must have pierced through the doorways and out into the Mizusawa streets for all to hear. They were unstoppable. But, the only thing that could have made the performance more homoerotic would have been a couple of Justin Hawkins unitards for Josh and I. I suspect we might have cleared the room had we been so attired.
The duet was enough fun to warrant a couple follow ups. Kelly and I did ‘Hey Ya!’ and Kurt and I rocked ‘My Name is Jonas.’ Of course, I had to get in a couple solo performances and Price’s ‘Let’s Go Crazy’ was a fine choice. It was, however, eclipsed by my finale of Rick Springfield’s ‘Jesse’s Girl.’ I’m surprised none of the girls threw a bra in my direction.
With most of the night behind us, we retired to Racheal’s for bed. The next morning, Kurt, Sarah and I had to wait while Kelly took Racheal for a birthday massage. We found our way to the bakery to abate our hunger and to a park to enjoy the perfect spring day.
The park we found was a truly strange bit of landscaping. Hills dipped down toward a small amphitheatre whose only purpose could have been to watch the small drainage stream immediately in front of it. Resting in the sun on the grassy hillside, we munched out bakery goods then Kurt broke out the Frisbee.
We could have been anywhere. We could have been in Calgary in May, somewhere near the university with final exams completed and the exercise of freedom the only responsibility for the day. We could have been in Kurt’s South Carolina, tossing the disc through the air and feeling like a champion each time we defied appearances and made a catch that looked impossible. We could have been on a hillside in Sarah’s Durham, laughing with each other in the blue sky. We could have been anywhere. It almost defied logic that we were in Japan. Who would expect this in Japan? How did we get here, with this Frisbee, with these great friends, here in Japan?
Kelly and Racheal returned from their pampering and we sought out a new location for lunch when our original establishment was found to be closed. We filled ourselves with pasta and pizza then headed south.
And Sarah snoozed. And Kurt sang. And Racheal laughed at him. And I smiled in the golden sun.
A Star is Reborn
When I first arrived in Ichinoseki, my foreign, white skin made me into an instant local celebrity (at least, that’s what it felt like at times). I was interviewed by a few different publications and a television crew followed me to a couple of my schools to watch the JET in action.
After the initial torrent of media hype surrounding the arrival of such a handsome and charming (and modest) gaijin in this sleepy town, the interviews halted and I was left to believe that I was just a normal individual. How gauche. We can’t have that.
But, thanks to the fine casting of Telebi Iwate and the zealous willingness of my Board of Education to get me out of the office for a day, I became part of Sunday-morning programming. The station was airing an informational piece about the foreign-language guides available for tours in Hiraizumi and they needed some fresh gaijin faces to act as hapless sightseers in the area.
Of course, I had no idea what I was getting into. One week earlier, my office asked me if I would want to do it while also telling me that Kurt was already signed up. I thought to myself, “Well, since I’m so clueless about what the production might entail, I’ll trust Kurt’s judgment on this one. Besides, it’s good excuse to get out of the office for a day and hang with a buddy.”
I signed up thinking I was going to have to do little more than follow some guide around the Hiraizumi sights with cameras trailing behind. I thought it would just be some sort of informational video for a tourist association.
When Sarah arrived home from vacation, the office enlisted her help as well. She made the same assumptions I did and decided to join the fun.
On the morning of the filming, the first surprise was that no one had ever actually told Kurt about the production. The organizer of the shoot herded us into his car while we protested that Kurt was being abandoned at his office. Confused, our new friend told us that Kurt wasn’t coming and we sped away. Text messaging Kurt only confused him and prompted him to come to City Hall to find out what we were going on about – of course, no one was there to help him.
We later determined that Kurt was probably a backup plan in case Sarah chose not to participate. We think they wanted Sarah and I instead of Kurt and I lest the latter be confused for some gay couple that would make the whole experience just a little too foreign for Japanese TV.
A duo instead of a trio, Sarah and I headed North. In Hiraizumi, we met the camera crew and out English-speaking guide for the day: Asai, a lovely Japanese woman who had lived four years in Vancouver. We were then carted to the station and got our second surprise of the day.
We watched as the camera crew set up in front of the station’s steps and started rolling. To our mild horror, one of the men we had met earlier had metamorphosed into a nauseatingly genki Japanese TV show host. He had the energy of an entire classroom of elementary students and was zealously overacting his way through his lines. Off to the side, we nervously anticipated what our role in this slapstick production might be. This was no informational video…
Now guided in front of the camera, we received instructions from the director and host while Asai translated. The host was meant to be a hapless Japanese tour operator whose language abilities failed him when the foreigners arrived looking to see the wonderful sights of Hiraizumi. Sarah and I were, of course, to play the role of the English foreigners while two Chinese women (dressed to the nines I might add) served as our more classy Asian counterparts.
Our instructions were as follows: The host would deliver a few lines then I would enter and give a big, friendly, “Hi!” We were to banter back and forth with simple English like, “My name is…” and so on. Then came my show-stopping line, “We’re here to do some sightseeing!” (Because that is, after all, how westerners talk.) Rescuing the hapless host from English hell, the Chinese contingent was to approach and deliver their lines. I can only assume they exchanged similar banter.
Then came the real star if the show. Sarah was to arrive on the scene and drop this bombshell: “I would like to go somewhere to learn about Yoshitsune!” And with that, the host’s synapses were to be fried, leaving him incapable of even the simplest of cogent statements and in desperate need of aid from one of Hiraizumi’s new foreign-language guides.
After a few takes, everyone had nailed their lines. Sarah and I stood to the side, bewildered at this bizarre situation and wondering how much more hammy acting we would have to do before the day was done.
We were soon back in front of the camera, but this time, we were little more than props behind the guides. Our director didn’t give us much to go on, so we never really knew if something was expected from us or if the host was going to freak out and start humping legs. (No, the latter never happened, but I wouldn’t have put it past him.)
Next stop was Motsu-ji. One of Hiraizumi’s star attractions, this temple complex oriented around a lovely lake was the scene for the guides to strut their stuff. This was more of what I had expected. The guides lead us along the paths near the temple while explaining a little about the site’s history while the cameras trailed behind. Again, unsure of what was expected from us, we just tried to act naturally and follow along. The genki host only had one episode where he could have required a slight sedative: as we entered the complex, he marched through the gate with high knees and lifted a flag like the grand marshal of a parade. As far as we knew, we were not required to mimic him.
Our whirlwind tour of the temple finished, we were then transported up to a temple dedicated to Yoshitsune where Sarah’s desire to learn more about the legendary warrior would be fulfilled. Again, the cameras trailed behind while we learned about the history of the area.
In order to wrap up the production, the director wanted us to give our feedback about the guiding experience. We were happy to tell them how interesting it was and how much information we had learned, but Asai had to translate our words back for the Japanese viewing audience. How terribly un-Japanese: She had to take our praise and repeat it about herself on television. I hope we didn’t damage her humility too much.
With shooting finished, the crew took us back down the hill to town where we all ate lunch together. We had a good chat with Asai before being escorted back to city hall.
When we arrived, both Sarah and I didn’t stop shaking our bewildered heads for hours. We wondered at how this production would actually appear on TV and whether heart and star graphics would be swirling about our heads on screen.
Recovering from Convalescence
With my eye on the mend, my medication has dropped significantly and I am now returning to a normal level of physical activity. Not feeling exhausted every moment of the day has allowed me to once again enjoy basic activities like walking and breathing.
Really, I had been doing that for a while. Last Monday, however, it was time to get my butt moving a little. Blue skies beckoned and I decided to ride northward into the hills. With no idea where I was going or how long it would take me to get there, I was excited just to explore someplace new.
I criss-crossed roads on the Western side of Route 4 and eventually found myself scaling a hill that my now enfeebled legs and heart didn’t appreciate. But, only twice was I forced to dismount: once when the uphill rise was just too long to bear and again when the slope was too steep for me even on the best of days.
When I finally crested the hill, expansive farms and rice paddies greeted me on the other side. The wind whipped cotton clouds past the pastel blue sky and gave me more momentum than I needed to descend the rural road. My brakes threatened to start smoking, but never failed me.
I stopped for a few photos of the landscape and noticed a secluded hillside cemetery in the distance. This peaceful place was my next stop. There, I spent most of my time photographing the small Buddha statues placidly keeping watch over the graves.
Continuing on my uncharted path, I quickly departed my hard-fought high ground and again was skirting the base of the hill. The road home followed Route 4 up the hill once more, so my daily exercise only ended when I sped down the other side into Ichinoseki.
But Monday was only a warm-up for yesterday. The Japanese school year ends in March and re-starts in April. During that time, I am left to my own devices in the Board of Education offices. This has, in fact, been a boon – I’ve been able to work relentlessly on my new website. But, in an effort to get me out of the office and interacting with students during this month-long break from teaching, the office has suggested I go play basketball with the kids at Hagishou.
Considering how often I play with them when I teach at the school, it only makes sense that I should want to go and shoot some more hoops with them. They’re great kids and good little ball players. (I’m loathe to admit it, but there are actually a couple 15-year-olds there who are already better than me. One boy kept hitting threes and I pretty much had to give up on defending him – he just wouldn’t stop hitting them!) The only problem was that, in my weakened state, I like an octogenarian. I was panting like a husky in desert heat after only a few minutes of one on one.
Graduation at Hagishou
Yesterday, I was privileged enough to attend the graduation ceremonies at Hagishou Junior High, one of my favourite schools. Donning my tie for the first time in a long time, I cycled in the ever-improving spring weather to the 200-strong school South of Ichinoseki.
I didn’t really know what to expect from the ceremony. Graduations are a significant affair here in Japan and each transition to a new school level is rewarded with a graduation event. I don’t recall any such formal events marking my exit from elementary or junior high school, but here, they’re the norm.
Red and white fabric hung from the walls of the gymnasium while the heaters roared their warmth into the normally chilly space. The first and second-years of the school sang as the graduating third-years stoically filed into their seats. Speeches, songs and parchment presentations filled the schedule until all of the graduating class was positioned in tiers at the front of the gym with girls on the left and boys on the right.
There, the somber stoicism continued as the entire class recited a speech with each student completing a new line. And then the crying began’
As soon as one girl stumbled through her line as she began to sob, a trend was set. Few of the girls retained their composure and the graduation started to feel more like a funeral.
Next on the schedule was for all of these now sobbing children to sing together. Thus far, each of the songs echoing in the gym had been flowery, sentimental melodies laden with melodrama. You could easily visualize the videos that would play behind the text at karaoke for these tunes:
A young Japanese couple wistfully strolls through a park in autumn. Hand in hand, they gaze longingly at each other. They reach the edge of the park. The girl must continue one to leave the boy standing alone. Cut to a shot of their hands separating. Cut to a shot of the distance between the two figures increasing as the girl can’t help looking back on her forlorn former love. Cut to a shot the last leaf falling from a tree branch. Fade to black’
Of course these students are going to weep during such schmaltzy songs. Japanese kids eat this stuff up. So, while trying to sing what was undoubtedly some anthem for change and rebirth, the girls sniffed and sobbed forming a background noise like the hisses and pops of a dusty record.
The weeping youth eventually departed the gym, again ushered out by emotive melodies. The ceremony had finished and left me wondering when they actually got to celebrate this period in their lives.
Fortunately, a short time later, all of the kids were back in the gym for photos and their glassy eyes were now shining. Friends hugged and cameras flashed while parents posed with happy graduates. A good number of my students paid me the compliment of asking me to pose with them for photos and I flashed the peace sign with the best of ’em.
Of course, Toshie, the girl with the crush, was ecstatic to see me. All of her friends lined to get a shot of us together: Toshie and her future husband’
I mingled with the kids and even did a couple celebratory chest bumps. That doesn’t compare with Josh, however, he told me in an email later that day that his students managed to pick him up and toss him in the air. An impressive feat considering Josh’s respectable height.
The students continued their mingling outside as they bid farewell to their school and their teachers. More handshaking, hugs and photos ensued and waves goodbye with jovial chants of ‘See you!’ punctuated the day’s events.
What a gift to watch these people grow. These third-years have been some of my favourite students to meet. They’re an outgoing group and always made a great effort to communicate with me in English as well as teach me Japanese. I have so many great memories with them and I wish them all the best.
The Phantom Kancho
10:30 am
My guess is that the most remarkable thing that will happen here at the office today has already occurred. At the end of this minor catastrophe, Michiko-san’s desk was covered in coffee. Her miniature computer, calculator, papers and cell-phone all received a liberal dousing and now reek of something resembling barf.
I have no idea what prompted it, but it must have been a spectacular twitch to set so much coffee flying. My theory is that a Japanese elementary student was running loose in the Board of Education offices and snuck up behind Michiko-san to deliver a tragically on-target Kancho. If you don’t know what a Kancho is, you have obviously never taught at the elementary level in Japan’
Basically, Kancho is a bizarre ‘game’ the kids play where they clasp their hands together with their index fingers pointing upwards. Well, those two little index fingers need someplace to poke. What better place to put them than in someone’s unsuspecting ass. Yup, it’s a bum-poking game.
What strikes me as particularly odd about this game is that there really are no winners. Obviously, anyone who ends up with two fingers in their rear is on the wrong end of invasive tomfoolery. But, really, can the proprietor of those two fingers truly be called a winner? I mean, your fingers were just in someone else’s ass crack for Buddha’s sake. No hero cookie for you my friend’
Now, I haven’t exactly done a lot of research on the subject, but someone mentioned to me that there is actually a Kancho video game in Korea where you guide those same pointed fingers towards the posteriors of unsuspecting, bent-over animated characters on the screen. The more accurate you are with your penetrating prod, the more surprised the character will be and the greater reaction you will receive.
So, to the Kancho ninja who so stealthily maneuvered behind Michiko-san and prompted the coffee explosion. Congrats dude, I think you just got a high score.
Darby Sawchuk is a Canadian-born photographer who currently resides in Manchester, England. He has travelled to over 40 countries and is always adding more to the list. He creates stock for multiple agencies and is available for assignments.
+44 0790 992 8932
