Hiroshima - Lonely Planet Strikes Again

In the morning, I set off - albeit reluctantly - to Hiroshima. In the ticket reservation line, the old man in front of me was kind enough for some reason to let me go before him, even though I wasn't in any sort of hurry. I felt guilty, because after serving me, the counter closed and the guy had to wait over half an hour until the next counter opened. Sucker! You could tell he regretted it, because a woman tried to sneak in front of him and he sharply reprimanded her.

Seven hours later (why does it always take seven hours for the train rides?) I arrived in Hiroshima. I was a bit nervous, even though I've heard only good things about it. But still - we destroyed the place! So far, though, they've been the nicest people in Japan - everyone greets me on the streets as I pass, and they're all extremely helpful.

The hostel was rather far away from the station, but Lonely Planet highly recommended it, and even though they suck at directions, their recommendations are always spot-on. What I didn't count on was the walk taking over an hour, and since this is the most southerly point of my trip, it's outrageously hot.

Finally I got to the hostel, soaking wet. Luckily they had a room open. Turns out it was worth the walk, because this place is amazing. It's called a hostel and the prices are hostel prices, but it's pretty much a hotel. I've got a private room and bathroom nicer than my room back in Aomori. Not only that, but the lounge has a vending machine with about 20 different flavors of ice cream. And if the mint chocolate chip is any indication, I'm going to be spending all my money on this stuff.

Since I hadn't eaten anything since the day before, I immediately set off to the nearest restaurant. According to the bible, it was on the second floor of the Clover Building. But when I got there, I learned that, of course, the Clover Building was some sort of fitness center on all four floors, and the woman at the front desk had never heard of the restaurant I was searching for. Bravo, Lonely Planet. You never miss an opportunity to disappoint. So I just went to the next restaurant, which was Italian.

I know most people don't go to Japan for Italian food, but they should. I can't believe how delicious this food was. I had some sort of pasta with a cream sauce and huge chunks of snow crab mixed in. I'm going to have to resist temptation to go back and get it every meal.

I then strolled around the Peace Memorial Park. It was dusk, but even without that, it would have been extremely beautiful. All over the park are small monuments to those who died from the bomb. In the center of the park, there's a small reflecting pool with an eternal flame that won't be shut off until the last nuclear weapon on Earth is destroyed. The pool had tons of fresh flowers left by it, and I saw a few people stop to pray on their way back from work.

At the end of the park is the A-Bomb Dome. Essentially, it's a building with a dome on top, and the bomb detonated almost directly above it, preserving the frame of the dome. It stays lit even at night, which makes it even eerier.

After that, I just came back to the hostel (I swear it wasn't just for more ice cream). And now I'm laying in bed with a hot mug of free green tea, flipping back and forth between Die Hard 3 in Japanese and Sister Act 2 in English. Try and tell me it doesn't get any better than this, just try to!

Takayama - I Really Don't Think They're Harmless Loop-The-Loops

Today I woke up laughing. The moment I stopped laughing, I forgot the entire dream, but I'm sure it was hilarious. I'm just glad there was no one else in my room.

I went down to the morning market, where a lot of really, really old ladies sit under tents, selling their home-grown and crafted goods. As one woman put it, the young people are too busy to care about markets. I think I was the only person under 60 there.

Now, here's my dilemma: since I'm in Takayama, which is in the Hida District, now would be the perfect time to try the world-famous Hida beef, yes? The problem is that it's no less expensive here than it is in the United States - if it appears in any item on a menu, no matter how small the portion, it instantly jacks the price up at least $20. However, small stands on most street corners in a lot of cities usually sell skewers with grilled chicken, seafood, or a local specialty, and it's usually priced at only $2.50. Here, they sell Hida beef skewers. So I tried Hida beef, and let me tell you - it's perfect. It also allowed me to try Hida beef relatively guilt-free. You see, when you buy it - or practically any other food - at home, you're paying for the meat as well as the transportation of it, which is all too often a trip on an airplane, which is absolutely horrible for the environment. Of course, flying here to eat the beef isn't a viable solution, since I'm not only flying here, but back home as well. But at least while I'm here I'm mostly eating local, guilt-free food.

And since I'm on my ecological soapbox, allow me to continue. I'm reading a book by Al Gore, and in it he describes a phenomenon which I didn't really believe. He says that in heavily-forested or jungle areas, after a rainstorm, you can actually see clouds re-form from the evaporating water from the plants, which in turn rain back down on trees further downwind, and so on and so on. Sure enough, it rained up in the mountains, and as I watched, rain clouds rose right out of the forests, came down, and rained on me and the city. It was so cool. Now, imagine that if I was a tree, dependent on the rain that the mountain jungles provide. If we cut down all those trees up there in the mountains, when it rains, the rain stays up there (or it washes downhill, eroding away all the fertile topsoil, so less crops are able to grow, but that's another story), and now you've not only killed all the trees you cut down, but you've also killed me and all the trees around me dependent on the rain clouds formed by those trees you destroyed, and so forth and so on. And that's just one of the many reasons why deforestation is awful. So stop cutting down trees, DAD.

Anyway, it rained.

So I thought it would be the perfect time to go on a two-hour hike that takes you past all these shrines and temples up in the mountains, since it was just a light rain, which chased off the heat and the crowds for a while. So I followed the signs and somehow wound up in a huge, ancient graveyard instead of on the trail. The rain started to pick up, so I explored this giant graveyard in the middle of the forest while the rain poured down. It was so spooky and cool. And when I returned to the road, I noticed I was on the wrong side of a gate that had those "do not enter" white lightning bolts hanging from it. Oops.

The problem with Japan is that there are so many shrines around, so when you're looking for one specific area of shrines, it can prove quite difficult. I tried to find the path by climbing some really steep, overgrown steps up to shrines I saw on some hills, only to discover that I had unknowingly stumbled into some poor schmuck's private garden.

After about an hour of this, I finally found the path. But they failed to indicate that some of the branches of the path are not actually included on the hike, so sure enough, I'm back in another graveyard. Two guys called to me, so I went over to them. They didn't speak a word of English, and I quickly realized that they were grave-diggers. One started talking really fast to the other, who pointed at me, then at his genitals, and started to laugh really hard. I swear I'm not making this up. So naturally, I just turned and left, the whole time expecting one to grab and rape me.

Anyway, there were some more shrines and chanting monks and stuff on the walk, and it was all very peaceful, since I was the only one out in the pouring rain.

Now, what really piqued my interest in this town originally was this giant house of worship called the Mahikari-Kyo Main World Shrine, which is the center point of the new religion Mahikari-Kyo. Why was I so interested in this, you ask? I'll let Lonely Planet explain:

"Mahikari-Kyo... is said to combine Buddhism and Shinto. Opinion is divided on whether its believers are harmless loop-the-loops or anti-Semitic doomsday cultists."

So I had to visit.

The place is hard to miss - if you're in Takayama, just look for the giant golden roof to the west. When I got there (after a much longer walk than expected - clearly they don't want visitors), I didn't know what to do, so I just entered.

To get in, I had to walk two floors up this huge spiral staircase inside a tower, which brings you to the main grounds. A guard saw me, so as I'm walking up the stairs, suddenly this horrible screeching noise comes echoing from everywhere. What the hell is this? Have they unleashed a banshee on me? The noise carried on for about two minutes, and then a really imposing voice came on the intercom. It would take more than that to stop me, so I continued up. I get to the main ground, look up the steps at the huge shrine, and what do I see?

GIANT SWASTIKAS.

Now, I'm sure it's unsettling enough to be in old parts of Germany and see left-over swastikas and Nazi articles from the war. And I'm well aware that the swastika was originally a Buddhist symbol. But you'd think if you were building a shrine for a religion accused of anti-Semitism, you would choose something other than the swastika to adorn your two enormous towers with. It literally took my breath away and stopped me in my tracks. It was the last thing I'd expect to see.

The tried to offset the swastikas with similarly-huge stars of David, but, dudes, that's not doing anything. In fact, it only makes you look more guilty. If a new religion started and their main shrine glorified both pictures of a Klansman and pictures of a black guy, they would be called many things, but "friendly to all people" would not be one of them.

I stood there for a while, and some ladies passed me, all of them wearing Stars of David and swastika pins on their lapels. Charming. They all greeted me enthusiastically, but were noticeably off-put by my obvious zoom photo obsession with their Nazi symbols.

As I strolled beyond the swastika-bedazzled "Towers of Light", I noticed a strange fountain on the right, which I later learned was dedicated to the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl. I always thought he demanded human sacrifices, not fountains. But maybe that stuff goes on inside. As I began to walk up the steps to the actual shrine, a guard saw me and went sprinting up the stairs, yelling into his walkie talkie. He shortly came back down to enthusiastically greet and welcome me and walked me up to the entrance, asking me questions about myself the whole way.

When I entered the shrine, everyone was standing at attention, waiting for me. Most of the male worshipers were wearing blue jumpsuits, which is fun, I guess. I had to sign some contract totally in Japanese, and on my way out I had to drink some religious wine. So I guess I'm one of them now.

It's unfortunate that I couldn't take pictures inside the shrine, because it was totally bizarre in there. First of all, in the entrance hall, a man was kneeling in the corner with red words written in paint on his shirt, I assume as some sort of punishment for something. It's good to see that the scarlet letter is still in practice.

The actual shrine was - for lack of a better word - ginormous. It had a few balconies as well as ground seating, three crystal chandeliers as big as houses, a whole bunch of gold crap up at the front, and even an aquarium! I didn't spend much time in there, since everyone was doing nothing but standing and staring at me. I had at least ten pairs of eyes on me at all times. So I drank the wine that so far hasn't killed me, and ran back down the steps.

In the main square, just below the gaze of Quetzalcoatl, some guys in their cute little jumpsuits carrying flags, some girls with hardhats and massive first-aid kits, and other swastika- and star-of-david-adorned individuals were gathering for some sort of evil plan, no doubt. Of course, the second they saw me, someone ran at them to warn them and they immediately dispersed.

I checked the whole walk back to make sure I wasn't being tailed.

Later, I decided to go to a noodle restaurant in Lonely Planet that sounded good and cheap. I looked out the window to check the weather, and it didn't look like it was going to rain, so I left my umbrella with my stuff - this restaurant, after all, was only two blocks away on the map.

But by the time I got to the front desk, it had started to pour the hardest it had all day. Unfortunately, I had only noticed after I had already turned my key in at the front desk, and I was far too embarrassed to turn around and ask for it back, as stupid as that is. So I just went out.

Of course, since we're talking about Lonely Planet here, the restaurant was not where the map and address told me it would be. And, again, since I get embarrassed by stupid stuff when I'm alone, rather than stopping in my tracks and turning around, I just turned right. And naturally the road turned out to be a long, winding one that took me out of my way, so I spent nearly twenty minutes walking back through tiny little neighborhoods just to get back to town.

Now, some of you may want to ask, "But, Danny, if it would have been embarrassing to turn around and ask for your key back, wasn't it more embarrassing to come back after only half an hour, soaking wet, requesting your key?" And to you I say: Shut up.

I bought a can of Sprite from a vending machine next door, somehow believing that a good excuse for my little jaunt would be that I spent half an hour in a downpour looking for a Sprite that I could get right next door.

If I've learned anything on this trip, it's that the only person with less street smarts than me is the Lonely Planet cartographer.

Takayama - Apparently Japan Has Some Temples And Shrines

Today was probably my favorite day so far on this trip, even though half of it was spent on trains. I woke up outside of Aomori in time to watch a beautiful Japanese sunrise. Eight hours later, I was on my final train to Takayama, not expecting it to be so awesome.

For most of the two-hour ride, the train stayed on a cliff above a river winding through some amazing mountains. Now, I've been to Alaska, the Canadian Rockies, Switzerland, and New Zealand, and each of those places I thought was the most beautiful place I had ever seen. But: This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen.

I never expected Japan to not only have such great natural beauty, but also to have so much of it untouched. And even if it has been altered by man, the buildings aren't intrusive and often compliment the landscapes. I'm constantly amazed by the millions of ancient shrines throughout this country, and it's always surprising when the train speeds past one, as if it's just an everyday sight - which, of course, it is for these people.

So then we got to Takayama. I threw my stuff in my room and immediately went back out to explore. Unlike most of Japan's other larger towns and cities, Takayama wasn't bombed in World War II, so it is filled with ancient buildings that haven't had to be rebuilt much. A walk down virtually any street will let you see several centuries-old buildings, usually standing directly next to modern restaurants and shops. It's very strange.

The streets are also perfect for walking. They're only wide enough for one lane, so the pedestrians virtually rule the streets. In my walk, I stayed mostly in the oldest area of town, and out of nowhere there was suddenly a huge Buddhist quarter. I went to look around at the various buildings, and the only other people in the courtyard with me were two old Japanese women. They came over and started explaining the history of the buildings to me, but it was completely in Japanese, so I didn't get a word of it. They didn't work there - they were just enthusiastic locals. So I let them tell me all about it, smiling and nodding. The only thing I understood was at the end the smaller one said, "He doesn't understand," and then they both said, "Okay. Goodbye! USA! Goodbye!" in English, and just walked off. It was such a great moment.

On my way out, I passed a more modern Buddhist temple, where actual monks were chanting. It was amazing. There was praying, stick-banging, gongs, the whole nine yards. I didn't want to go up to the door and disturb them, so I stood back by the road and took some video. You can watch it below - it's not very exciting, and the sound sucks, but you can hear a bit of the chanting after the car passes in the beginning. Clearly I'm a skilled cameraman.



The rest of my walk gave me a few more really interesting sights: some Zen gardens, more monks, an old temple being used as bike storage, a street market packing up to escape the rain starting to come down, an elementary school baseball game, some kids playing underneath and with a 400-year-old bell. There's so much history in this place that kids can afford to use things twice as old as the United States as playgrounds, and ancient temples are used as warehouses. It's amazing.

Sapporo - Sa-bore-o

Mission accomplished!

I found the stupid bookstore.

Why was I being so ignorant? Clearly when the writers of Lonely Planet put a dot on a map of Sapporo and labeled it "Kinokuniya Books", they meant that Kinokuniya Books was over a mile away from that dot. It's so obvious!

After that little victory, I did absolutely nothing all day. Having exhausted most of Sapporo's tourist locations yesterday, and faced with the prospect of entertaining myself for twelve hours until my overnight train left at 10 PM, I just kind of strolled. And sat. And ate. And strolled some more. And looked at some crap.

Speaking of crap, I had the worst bathroom experience of my life today. The only good thing about it was that it was a Western style toilet and not a Japanese style squatter. If it had been, I would have just given up on this country altogether.

Anyway, I go into the stall, and the first thing I notice (after the extremely detailed drawings of very graphic homosexual acts on the wall) was the lack of toilet paper. Luckily, I had been forewarned of this, and even though I didn't bring a roll of toilet paper or tissues or anything from home, many businesses hand out on the streets packets of tissues with their advertisements printed on the package, so you think of them on just such an occasion. Which I think is brilliant. However, I don't remember the exact businesses I wiped myself with, but I'm grateful nonetheless.

So thankfully I had a packet of tissues I had received today in my pocket, and crisis number one was averted. But once I sat down, the entire stall went crazy, like dropping a deuce was the magic action of the day in Pee Wee's Playhouse. The wall started yelling something at me - because, really, why shouldn't it? - while some little speaker behind the toilet made gurgling noises. I jumped up, thinking I had offended the bathroom wall, and the toilet flushed. And flushed, and flushed, and flushed. It wouldn't stop flushing! So I just continued with my business while the toilet flushed with no end in sight, the speaker behind the toilet made gurgling noises, and the wall screamed at me. The whole experience scared the shit out of me (ha HA!)

Sapporo - A Bad Day For Animals

Last night, right before I went to bed, Pearl called me. We only talked for a minute until the pay phone cut us off, but she seems as exhausted and overwhelmed as me. Then, one of my roommates came in. I can't remember his name, which I feel bad about because he's taken to calling me "Mister Danny". He lives on the southernmost island of Japan, and he rode his motorcycle all the way up here, on break from his job as a ship crew member. And that was about all the English he knew, so I went to bed.

I woke up to some dude saying, "Danny-san..." Seems I had almost missed breakfast. Too bad he woke me up, since it was awful. I ate only the rice and got out of there.

Attempt number two to find the bookstore proved a failure, and I quit after about an hour. My only explanation is that both bookstores and the Virgin Megastore supposedly near them have gone out of business. Or, who knows, they could look like the road and then occasionally turn into stores, Transformers-style. You never know in Japan.

So instead I did some sightseeing. I wandered through a crazy pedestrian street with all sorts of stores. I entered an arcade, expecting a scene similar to the hilarious one in Lost in Translation, and I wasn't disappointed. These kids take their games seriously.

I then went to some botanical garden in the middle of the city. I expected just a few flowers and plants and stuff, but that's not the kind of crap you get in Japan. This place was, of course, enormous. Several acres of closed-in jungle is not what I was expecting. The place was like I had wandered into Jurassic Park.
I strolled for a little while, and then I came across the worst building ever. Built in the 1880s, the place was filled with dead, stuffed wildlife, also from the 1880s. Dead foxes hunted dead mice, there were boxes filled with dead birds, a dead bear stood right in the middle, and there were all sorts of other various creepy and foreign animals. I snapped a few pictures and ran out.

Later, I returned to that insane food market in the station. When I described it yesterday, I said it went on for "miles". I didn't realize when I wrote that how huge the place really is. The food court was all I really saw yesterday. On the same floor of the food court are two full-sized malls. Each mall has hilarious names for their various areas. I started in the "Pleasure Land", which isn't as exciting as it sounds. It's just food. Then I went through "Beautiful Land", which was all the clothing shops. I then crossed to the other mall and strolled down the "Food Walk", "Fashion Walk," "Market Walk," and "Joyful Walk".

Then I noticed the escalators.

There were 10 more floors of shops, each floor themed, and each as big as the first floor. I didn't explore much of the floors, since I wanted to eventually get some sleep tonight, but I could get the gist of each floor from my view on the escalators. There were three electronics floors, two or three clothing floors, another food floor, a kids' floor (complete with huge, bouncing balloons all over the place and a robotic teddy bear), and a pet floor.

Naturally, I had to stop at the pet floor. But it was almost worse than the dead animal museum. The store was filled with tiny, heartbreaking puppies, all stacked in glass cases you normally find mice or hamsters in. Half of the puppies were shivering, and the other half were barking frantically. It's a good thing I don't live here, because I would have bought the whole store on the spot. Having achieved my goal for the day of becoming completely depressed, I left.

I returned to "Food Walk", picked a restaurant based on which one had the best-looking plastic food in front, and entered. I ordered something, and when it came, I started to eat the noodles. I noticed the woman next to me staring, so I turned and smiled at her. She then called the waitress over, and said something while pointing to me, causing both of them to laugh. Exactly what you want people to do to you, right? Well, turns out I wasn't eating my noodles correctly, and the waitress was kind enough to show me how to avoid embarrassing myself again. When the old woman left, she stayed at the register and talked to the waitress for a while, I assume about how cute I am.

After eating, I wandered around this city-within-a-building a little more. Unintentionally, of course, since I took a wrong turn and it took almost an hour to get back the right way. It's hard to describe how incredibly large this place is - you simply have to see it. To try to put it in perspective, I wandered for almost eight hours, and the only times I saw something I had already seen before is when I intentionally backtracked.

A lot of people told me I would feel huge in Japan, due to everyone's size. But now that I'm here, I feel smaller than I ever have before. I fear if I stay in this city any longer, I may develop a severe Napoleon Complex.

Sapporo - Lost in Translation (Not For The Last Time, I'm Sure)

Since I had thought I would be waking up on the streets of Aomori, it was pretty nice to wake up in my own bed to a warm Japanese breakfast and a hot shower. Breakfast confirmed my suspicions about the hotel's only clientèle - picture me in my gym shorts, a white undershirt, and barefoot, surrounded by ten Japanese business men in full suit and tie, wolfing down breakfast before work. Plus I dropped my chopsticks. Twice.

Shortly after, I checked out, my bag slightly heavier with the robe and tea I stole. I walked the short distance to the train station, got my seat reservations (it's time to take advantage of the free reservations I get with my rail pass, to ensure yesterday doesn't happen again), and boarded the first of two trains to Sapporo, on an island just across a short channel from Japan's main island.

When I boarded the train, however, I was met with mass chaos. The entire car was filled with old Japanese couples. I counted twenty-nine couples, with the thirtieth pair of seats left to me (why don't they ever give anyone the seat next to me? Somehow, I blame Bush.) The couples, all twenty-nine of them, were up in the aisles, attempting to spin their seats around, since the train would be going in the other direction. They were all laughing and having a great time - the woman in front of me was spinning her husband's chair in circles while he was still in it, yelling at her. Things settled down, the train got moving, and I sat, stifling laughs for a good ten minutes.

Since I wasn't riding a bullet train, it took seven hours to go from Aomori to Sapporo. So I finished my book, and had nothing more to do on the train. Finally, we arrived in Sapporo, which was much wilder than I'd imagined. To get to the hostel, I only had to get on the subway and ride for three stops. Easier said than done in Japan. To get to the subway, you have to wind through literally miles of the most confusing indoor mall ever. More on this later.

I followed the signs, found the subway and my hostel, and checked in. Turns out I'm the only non-Japanese person in the place. The room is really nice, but a huge step down, privacy-wise, from last night. I have to say, my least favorite thing about traveling so far is the hostels. I really don't like sharing a room with anyone unless I know them really well. The only person I've ever shared a room with is Bodnar for my freshman year, and we knew each other well enough so there were no real surprises with his sleeping habits (but don't remind him about my snoring). However, now I have shared rooms with seven people, and it's only night four. Yeah, I'm meeting people, but so far we've barely spoken a common language - one German, one Swiss, and five Japanese people. So far, I'm pretty lukewarm about this whole hostel experience. And sharing a dorm with three other people all semester in Egypt? Kill me.

Okay, enough whining. I hopped back on the subway to find an English bookstore and a place to eat before I went to sleep nice and early. But Lonely Planet isn't that good with maps. They just kind of throw a dot on a barely accurate map, marking the general area of a building. That crap may fly with Europe and North America and their gridded streets, but it doesn't work here. All I know is that the bookstore was somewhere between the TV Tower - a giant, neon Eiffel Tower ripoff, which wasn't too hard to find - and the Virgin Megastore, which should have been easy to find, but I never did. I wandered for nearly an hour, but I couldn't even find the damn megastore. The problem with Japan is that it's like the movie The Fifth Element - there's still a huge amount of activity going on 100 stories up. In fact,the store you're looking for could be on the 50th floor of some generic, unmarked building. So I never found the bookstore, but I'll skip all my sightseeing tomorrow to avoid accepting defeat. I will find the bookstore.

After my little tour of a four-square-block area of Sapporo, I headed back to the insanity of Sapporo Station to get some food. And if this is relatively small Sapporo, I can't imagine what Tokyo is going to be like. The place was one part meat market, one part Willy Wonka's factory, and 100% acid trip. Everyone's yelling at you from the literally hundreds of tiny food shops to buy their food, there's loud music, everything down to the walls are speaking to you, and you're hit by hundreds of smells all at once. It was exhilarating. I finally picked the largest restaurant I saw, and I was seated for some reason not at the counter for solo eaters or even a table for two, but a twenty-foot empty table in the middle of the restaurant. I sat in the king's seat at the end, to the amusement of two schoolgirls, and ordered what the waitress recommended, which was really good, whatever it was. I didn't eat the brownie-sized piece of ice-cold tofu, though, which elicited actual glares from most of the wait staff as they walked by and saw the uneaten sponge still on my plate. So I paid and left to get some sleep before heading out again tomorrow into this exhausting Japanese city. How do they not die of ulcers all the time?

Nikko, Aomori, and Everything Between

Today I decided to challenge myself. If all went as planned, I would have taken eleven trains by the end of the day, and would have been going to sleep in Sapporo. Note the use of the conditional tense.

First, I got up, said goodbye to my Swiss roommate and the British woman from last night, checked out, and made my way to the train station easily enough. I bought my ticket to Otsuki, but there were two trains leaving at the exact same time, and the signs that kept changing didn't help get me around at all. So I just picked a train at random and sat down.

A Japanese couple boarded the train and got in my car, so I gathered up my nerves and approached them with the little Japanese I know.

"Excuse me, does this train go to Otsuki?"
"Yes! Yes!" they enthusiastically replied.
"Good. Thank you very much."

Looks like that one semester of Japanese paid off. That semester didn't help, though, when I later got stuck behind a stubborn automatic door that refused to open. Everyone around had a good laugh at the stupid American.

Four trains and five hours later, I arrived in Nikko. The city is only a couple blocks wide and about thirty blocks long, and it only has one major point of interest - but boy is it major AND interesting! (See what I did there?)

Instead of taking a bus from the station to the soon-to-be-described point(s) of interest, I opted to walk the half-hour trek up the hill, so I wouldn't miss the cool little town.

I wandered into the only restaurant with an English sign, and it turned out to be the greatest place ever. Owned and run by two parents and their daughter, the place consisted of only three tables, one of which is reserved for the family to sit and read at until someone comes in. When I walked in, I was greeted by everyone asking if I was hungry. The mom seated me, gave me a menu (in English!), and told me her favorite item, which I of course ordered. Then the mother and daughter ran back into the little kitchen to make my food, since the dad had fallen asleep in his seat. The food arrived quickly, since I was the only customer, and it was perfect. Absolutely delicious, and just enough to fill me up without leaving me uncomfortably stuffed in that typical American way. On my way out, they even gave me a map and labeled places "number one most beautiful", "number two most beautiful", etc. etc. This place was exactly what I expected Japanese restaurants to be like.

Five minutes later, I arrived at Nikko's famous historic park. The place is basically a huge forest filled with the biggest trees I've ever seen, and it is packed with shrines and temples. Everything was very old and beautiful, but I didn't go into the "highlight" of the park - some big gold castle - because it was outrageously expensive and I'll see plenty of that crap in Kyoto.

I did sneak into more off-limits areas, though. Here's the thing: they only close off areas with small little posts that look more like they're for stopping cars instead of people, or by hanging silver paper lightning bolts over a closed entrance. After testing the first lightning-bolted barrier for any sort of electric force field, I decided to simply go into any area closed off by those paper cut-outs and, if caught, feign ignorance and apologize profusely, playing up the stupid American stereotype.

Anyway, the place was cool, blah blah blah, but then the problems started. I had planned on taking a series of trains up north, finishing with an overnight train that would bring me to Sapporo, my northern-most city of the trip. However, I discovered far too late that the overnight I was planning on taking would cost me $80 - and that's already including the 50% discount from my JR Pass. And the unbelievably-useful JR Hotline that tells you how to get anywhere in Japan for either the lowest price or free had closed at 6 PM. You'd think the hotline would stay open until 11, when most trains stop running.

So now I'm on my way to Sendai, the last guaranteed free train. From there, I can either suck it up and pay the $80, or I can suck it up even more and try to find a way to get to Sapporo without spending a yen. I think I'll try the second option, and if I get a few cities ahead and find out it can't be done, I think I'll have enough time to get back to Sendai for the overnight, if I act fast. If not, I'll be spending the night in a train station. So I should probably catch an hour of sleep on this train. Good thing these bullet trains are so comfortable!

Okay, I'm out of Sendai, on my way to Hachinohe, which isn't even notable enough to get a mention in Lonely Planet. I've accepted the fact that I will be sleeping in a train station tonight. The train arrives in Hachinohe at 11 PM, and if by some small miracle a late-night train is running to Aomori, there's no chance I'll get a train from Aomori to Sapporo after midnight. Luckily, it's about a seven-hour ride from Aomori to Sapporo, so if I stay up all night, at least I'll have some sort of sleep when I actually get into Sapporo. I think I'll just sleep at the hostel all day when I finally get there.

I don't believe it. I'm on a train to Aomori, my final transfer location.

Well, things have certainly taken a turn. Of course, there was another train leaving from Aomori to Sapporo - the exact train I wanted to be on - but it naturally was leaving as we were pulling into the station. It looked really, really fancy, too. They had real lamps with lampshades!

So, faced with the prospect of spending a night on the street, I did what any sane person does in a foreign, large, industrial, dock-side city - I started to wander. I picked the brightest and biggest street. Some cute girls parked in a car waved at me, and some teenagers were rehearsing their dance moves outside a Mini Mart. About seven blocks away from the station, I found the Aomori Plaza Hotel. It's clearly only for businessmen, since the name is far fancier than the accommodations, and there is barely a word of English spoken. The concierge seemed absolutely shocked when an American kid with a backpack entered at 1 AM, asking for a room. "Here?" he actually asked.

I ended up paying $40 for the room, which is twice as much what I usually pay, but I have my own room, my own bathroom, a shower and bath to soak my blistered feet in, and a Japanese kimono. You can bet on me stealing that. Oh, and free breakfast, as well as all the hot tea I want. Not too shabby, eh? Plus I saved an extra $40 from not paying for that overnight train, and I'll certainly remember today for a long time.

Realizing my bed for the night would
probably be a bench.

I don't joke around in kimonos.

Lake Kawaguchi - Fujis and Funyons

13 hours after falling asleep, I woke up to the sound of my German roommate's egg timer he uses instead of an alarm clock. Weird. I'm saving Tokyo for the end of my trip, when Pearl's there, so I got up, checked out, and jumped on the first of three trains to get me to Lake Kawaguchi, under Mount Fuji.

After getting lost so many times yesterday, I had gotten pretty good at figuring out the Tokyo subway, although I had a bit of a problem finding the train to actually get me out of the city. After several minutes of staring at a map while standing directly under a sign telling me exactly where to go, I got the hell out of Tokyo and easily found my connecting train to take me to Kawaguchi-ko (not included in my Japan Rail Pass? Bah!) The Fuji Express passed through picturesque towns and some really awesome mountains. So far, Japan definitely has anywhere else I've been beat for man-made beauty (I mean architecture, not breasts), and I suspect by the end of the trip, I'll rank it above Switzerland and New Zealand for the natural stuff, too (again, I mean mountains and rivers, not breasts).

The dancing, animated Mt. Fuji on TV announced that we had arrived, so I disembarked and made my way to the awesome K's House hostel. The map I used showed more or less a straight line from the station to the hostel, but luckily I figured out that there were actually some turns involved. I tossed my stuff on my bed and immediately left to explore Lake Kawaguchi. The lake is pretty beautiful, even though that bastard Fuji-san was almost totally covered by clouds.

I walked almost the entire circumference of the lake, which took all day. I stopped on a whim at a small little restaurant - my first real restaurant in Japan - and it was a good thing I chose this place. The entire staff consisted of one old woman. Somehow she manages to greet, seat, take orders, work the register, and cook everybody's food. And this place was extremely busy. Assuming it would be an hour wait for my meal (which would be a surprise, since the whole menu was in Japanese), I settled back and enjoyed the view of the lower half of Mt. Fuji. Three minutes later, I had a steaming bowl of food in front of me. At first I was amazed at her speed - she managed to get five groups of four in and out in fifteen minutes - but once I tasted the food, I was amazed at her culinary skills. I wolfed the food down, told her it was delicious, and then gave her 9,000 yen for the 840-yen meal. She had a good laugh at my expense, and I sheepishly ducked out.

The rest of the day was spent wandering and at the hostel. I got caught up in conversation with a British woman on vacation from teaching English in Thailand, and since I was still jetlagged, my eyelids started drooping by 8:00. I told her I hated to be such a loser, but I had to go to sleep. She smiled, and when I tried to return it, I could feel my tired eyes cross for some reason. I have to avoid her tomorrow out of embarrassment.

I'm extremely impressed with K's House. The staff is excellent, the lounge is very comfortable, the internet is free and has English keyboards, the kitchen is better than ours at home, their toilets shoot water in my crack, the location is perfect, and everything is so clean. I'll try to stay at the K's House in Tokyo. Although there isn't much to do in this town, K's House makes me want to stay another night.

Oh my God, I almost forgot the best part of the day. Around 5 PM, I stumbled upon "the oldest shrine in the Mt Fuji area". Unfortunately, it was closed. Fortunately, it was only closed with tiny wooden posts, so I simply side-stepped them and went in. You may be able to keep the polite Japanese out with the logs, but it'll take giant gates with elaborate locks to stop an American.

The place was really eerie, and being alone there didn't help at all. I stepped around a few more "barriers" to actually go into some of the buildings, but the utter stillness of the place was too creepy. It didn't help when I decided to explore an ancient cemetery on the grounds.

My view of Mt. Fuji. Beautiful, no?

Tokyo, Japan - Tokyo To Go

I've been sitting here for about five minutes, trying to think of a good way to explain how exhausted I am, but I'm at a loss. Today technically started when I woke up on June 23rd, without a single thing packed. Of course, I waited until the last minute to do it, so let's hope I didn't forget anything important.

We left for the airport at 4:30 AM, and I pretty much slept until we got to LA. From LA to Tokyo it is typically an eleven-hour flight, but since we had brake problems (which is always what you want to hear on a plane), we had to sit on the plane an extra two hours before taking off. I barely slept during the flight, opting to watch The Painted Veil (boring), Bridge To Terabithia (lame), Wild Hogs (kill me), and Shooter (Mark Wahlberg is awesome).

I have to admit, I was really dreading the moment the plane would land. Not because I was worried it would crash, but because I wanted to be home. I felt so stupid for leaving. What did I know about living on my own, let alone getting around in an extremely foreign country? And 42 days was seeming like a really, really long time. The entire game of Survivor takes place in less time than that. And those people go crazy!

Well, once I landed I wasn't filled with nearly as much homesickness or regret. Although, Pearl isn't free after July 21st, so instead of hanging around by myself in Tokyo, I might look into going home early so I can spend more time with my friends and family before I leave for Egypt. We'll see.

Anyway, all doubts evaporated once I actually saw Japan. This country is insane. There are so many chimes and songs and flashing lights. It's pretty hard to describe, and is something everyone definitely has to experience.

I got lost a couple of times trying to make my multiple train connections on the way to the hostel, but I eventually found the place with not too much trouble, got into bed, and passed out after admiring the awesome view from the room.

I Think I'm Turning Japanese

Nine days until I leave for Japan. I've bought my backpack, my rail passes, booked my hostels in Tokyo in advance. I also got my visa for Egypt, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Just a few minor things to do in the next week, and then I'm off.

Many of you probably don't know Pearl, but you will. I've mentioned her in an earlier post - my single greatest life achievement (other than standing up for more than 24 hours) took place at her house, remember? Anyway, you'll get to know her soon enough. She's teaching English in Tokyo and is the main reason for this Japanese trip, since it was originally going to be a trip to Europe. Up until today, Pearl and I were only going to be together for the final Tokyo leg of the trip, but she just called me to let me know that she has a week off to go backpacking. So she'll be meeting me in Kyoto in time for some sort of crazy festival, and she'll join me in traveling for a few days outside of Kyoto. It should be awesome.

I've been temporarily kicked out of my two-man band T-Bag and the Fingercat, since we have two shows during my trip that I won't be able to make. Clay will be playing the part of T-Bag, and I'm sure he'll do well. But clearly not as well as me.

And now here are some puppies.

Apollo

Athena

Two Puppies

Having A Bat Day?

I am now in my early twenties. I spent my last night as a teenager watching TV with Clay Segovia, alternating between Taxi, Van Helsing, and The Pacifier, three of the worst movies made in the past decade. I think the networks put those three on at the same time as an early present to me. It was beautiful.

I got in. I guess I should start rooting for Team Sunni.

Chai To Keep Up With Me

This is just a roller-coaster ride of emotion. First Madison tells me I'll know by the end of April if my Cairo application was accepted or not. Then Cairo tells me I'll know by mid-May. Now Madison just told me I'll find out by the end of the week. How about someone just makes the damn decision instead of putting it off? With all this, "Maybe..." stuff, it's convincing me I'm not going to get in. Perhaps avoiding making a decision is their form of wait-listing you.

Anyway, Bodnar (my current roommate, for those of you who aren't familiar), got a puppy on Saturday. His name is Apollo. His mother was found by Bodnar's cousin, a pregnant, dirty tramp bitch (the dog, not the cousin). So then Apollo and his adorable siblings fell out of her vagina.

Right now I'm puppysitting while Bodnar's at work, and Apollo is sleeping by the foot of my bed. Oh, wait. Now he wants to play.

Okay, I'm back. Here's a picture of him:

Told you he was adorable.

On Saturday, while we were playing with Apollo, Bodnar and I were talking about what we would name a cafe that exclusively sold Chai tea. Bodnar started with "Don't Be Chai", then I came up with "Hello, Good Chai" and then at the exact same time, both of us said "Me Chainese, Me Play Joke, Me Go Pee-Pee In Your Chai". Another suggestion we both had a hand in forming was "The Third Chaiumvirate", but you would obviously need three owners for that store name to work. Got any suggestions of your own?

Are You A Dominican Or A Dominican't?

It's the penultimate day of Spring Break. And there is snow on the ground. So this post will only be about warm places. First of all, still no word on Egypt. It's been one month since I got my email from Andrea something-or-other informing me that Madison accepted my application and forwarded it to the AUC offices in New York, and it's been two months since I first submitted the damn thing at all. Aside from when I was in the Dominican, I think I've checked my email at least once every two hours for the past two months. Hopefully something arrived in Andrea's mailbox over Spring Break and I'll hear about it when she returns to her office on Monday.

Anyway, the Dominican was awesome. Since it wouldn't be a vacation without me getting sick/allergic to something/having my face swell up/receiving near-3rd degree sunburns, I opted for the latter this time. And it wasn't all over my body; it only chose select patterns, making it look like I had some sort of awful skin disease. See?:
Other than learning that applying SPF 40 sunblock does absolutely nothing, here are some other things I learned during the week:

• Dominican men love blondes. Melissa was hit on to no end. Some were fairly subtle, just giving her sly winks, but others thought the proper way to go about it was to request, "Let me have your body just once, please."
• At all-inclusive resorts, a truly excellent meal is rather rare.
• At lower-class all-inclusive resorts, there will only be one or two attractive topless women on the beaches. The others will make you wish for only four senses.
• Scottish people, no matter how drunk, can still be amazing pool players.
• Michael Jackson travels under military escort.
• From what I've seen, all sharks are pussies.
• If you're being shoved into a small motor boat by two men who speak almost no English and, technically, no motorized vehicles are allowed on the water, just go with the flow.

And that essentially sums up the trip. Just like you were there with us, huh?

A Very Chinese St. Patrick's Day

I'm really not going to be writing much of anything here until I get to Cairo (if I get in), since my life won't be very interesting until then, but I figured I should record this for posterity. So if I die, at least this one accomplishment will be recorded.

I spent the weekend back home in Appleton. Friday night was my parents' giant 19th annual St. Patrick's Day party (and the second-to-last one in our house), which was fun, I guess. But Saturday night, the real St. Patrick's Day, I spent at the lovely Pearl Hu's house. Her mom made the most delicious Asian food I've ever had in my life. Judging from how it's pronounced and what Google tells me, I'm going to go out on a limb and say it's called Dao Xiao Mian. But, to paraphrase William Shakespeare, you could call it Stir Fried Semen and it would still taste as superb. I don't know what was in it, exactly, but it was missing cucumber, which Pearl assured me was comparable to "sprinkles on ice cream," so with that description urging me on, I raced to the grocery store in ten minutes, bought a cucumber, and raced back so we could throw sliced cucumber on top.

We then made 3 quarts of mango juice. The afore-mentioned accomplishment is: I drank one and a half quarts of mango juice. Although I felt slightly queasy by the end of the night, I also felt like a champion.

Now I'm back in Madison. Only two midterms and one term paper stand between me and the Dominican Republic.

I'm turning in my Cairo application tomorrow. The study abroad advisor made it seem like it's easy to get in, so now my hopes are up. I hope they don't get crushed. She showed me some of the classes they offer there, and a lot seem really awesome. I can't wait to learn about their perspective on our war of terror.

My Solio is begging for me to go. It has spent the winter suctioned to my bedroom window, trying to squeeze any energy it can from the three hours of daylight Wisconsin sees. And it's only a fourth of the way charged. If we make it to Cairo, I think it'll suck up enough energy to power half the city.