Sometimes I treat travel preparation like a big exam. I will put off thinking about it and then cram for it the night before. I stayed up all night before I went to Japan. Part of it was spent doing research on the Internet. Maybe it was because I was so excited to actually see a place I have probably stopped in 20 times on my way to and from Hong Kong, maybe it was the excitement of leaving my parents house in Hong Kong, or maybe it was because I was about to see Clay after 2 months of traveling.

Whatever created this mad insomnia made the first day incredibly surreal. But then Japan is like that. I hate to sound cheesy it but with all the sweet announcing voices, synthetic chimes, masses of lights and overhead trains I could feel the inspirations for the movie Blade Runner.

Misako is my friend Maki’s junior high school chum. She once came to New York and I led them to a Shanghainese restaurant in China Town for soupy dumplings. Misako was shy to speak any of the English she knew and my little Japanese was long forgotten but Maki told me that Misako had enjoyed meeting me and would be happy to host me in Tokyo. I spent the week before trying to remember any Japanese I had learned in college walking around Hong Kong repeating phrases from a CD. It came back slowly but it was definitely not good enough to write her an email. So I turned to my old standby, AltaVista’s Babblefish Translator.

I have had some funny results before with Babblefish as it has a tendency to mess things up. But when I typed in “Hello” in English and saw “Konichiwa” written in Hiragana, I thought it couldn’t be that bad. The letter I wrote in English said that I was sorry I had missed her and had wanted to see fireworks with her. Maki told me that that came out in Japanese, as “I am sorry I missed seeing you on fire.” I also told her that my boyfriend, Clay would be coming later and we would go to Love Hotel. Apparently that one turned into “My boyfriend is made of clay and we love hotel.”

Luckily Misako had just been hiding her latent English skills and after Maki sent a good translation Misako told me to meet her at the Marunouchi Building. I looked the building up online during my stint with insomnia and I had no problems finding the spot. I began to worry that I had forgotten what Misako looked like. Just at that moment she found me. We went up to the viewpoint in the building and she pointed out the different neighborhoods. I asked her where the love hotels were and she laughed and pointed at Shinjuku. She laughed again when I asked her if she had been to one before. I had become obsessed with them. I really wanted to get a crazy theme room with an aquarium or racecars in it. This was another of my late night Internet searches. She wrote to Maki and asked her if I was serious.

Misako and I spent a large part of our evening racing through our dictionaries for the right word. This had to be one of the fastest ways to commit a word to memory. It’s a terrible waste of time to look up the same word twice in one night. After a tasty dinner of cold potatoes and cream piled in a mountain garnished with tomatoes and little cucumbers, a variety of tempura and yummy Japanese beers I asked Misako what she thought of the food. She felt it was only so-so which made me really excited for the next meal. We took a quick jaunt into a pachinko parlor for some photos and then took the scenic train back to her apartment. Although we spent most of the time chatting and looking at maps and forgot to look out the window.

Her place was small but super-clean and organized. But what else can you expected from an architect? Misako was such a gracious host, she even loaned me stripy pajamas that matched hers. As we fell asleep I thought that if we were fluent in the same language we’d probably keep each other up chatting. Luckily we didn’t because Misako wakes up at the crack of dawn.


CLAY ARRIVES  

KEIRIN RACES

Clay, an avid track biker in NY, had it set in his mind before he came to Japan that he wanted to see Keirin track bike racing. Before I left for Japan I asked my friend Maki if she knew anything about these races. She replied that she didn’t since it was mainly of interest to old people and nerds. Luckily the women at the Tourist information desk knew exactly what we were talking about. The free ride over in this old bus with a wooden floor and orange and brown upholstery was pretty exciting. Clay and I were the only people under 50.

These races started in the 50’s in Japan and now are all around the world. They were noted for their exciting maneuvers and, sometimes violent, outbursts. We never got to see any punching. Right before a race they would play “Take My Breath Away” to let you know it was about to begin and then a repetitive bell sounds to tell you to finish placing your bets. The beginning of the races are laughably anticlimactic they sound the start gun. The reason for this is that they don’t actually start to race until after a few laps behind a pacesetter. Then they rocket and a bell starts to play faster and faster marking the end of the race.

On the way back from the races clay spotted this giant roller coaster. We made sure that we got on that thing. It went through a building and a Ferris wheel. We were especially excited because got the first seats. They took some pictures of all the riders and I wish I had one to show you. Basically you see me screaming and laughing and Clay looking much like a dog riding in the car with his head out of the window. He was so Zen and this thing was pee your pants scary. He said he was just trying to feel the physics of the thing. I love it.

After words I got a little cranky when we had to buy warm clothes for our trip to the north. Basically, I was tired and went crazy-brat and Clay was nothing but a good man during this moment. I thank you Mr. Harper.


SAPPORO: FISH, GANGSTA POSES & PRO WRESTLING

We took many trains to Sapporo, including the bullet train, and brought a few rice ball snacks for the journey – the plum rice ball rocked my world so hard that I get a little sad to when I think about it being so far away now. By the time we got to Sapporo it was a bit late and we were both grumpy carrying our hot cup o ramen noodles from the 7-11 trying to find the hotel. The hotel itself was pretty 70’s and neat.

Laundry was first on the list the next morning and we stopped and ate at a smelly diner with bread only they told me. No Japanese breakfast. Then we headed to Otaru on the train where we rented bikes on the coast and I finally got a pair of shoes. They are good shoes – white, red and blue Patrick’s. On our bike ride clay stopped to take a picture of something and this man hopped into his picture – Clay threw him a sideways pointed “what’s up” hand and the guy came back at him with a “Westside”. It went full blown and the guy ended up squatting in his gangsta pose for clay to snap a portrait. I did notice on my trip that Asians everywhere have adopted the gangsta pose. In the airport I saw an entire family from Mainland China busting out the “Westside”.

The seafood we ate that night was outstanding. First of all the place was like a Disneyland version of a Japanese grill. It had the feeling of a giant industrial basement with wood everywhere. We ate 3 King Crab legs, 4 giant scallops, 2 shrimp, 1 salmon fillet, 1 squid, 1 other fish and 4 beers for 60US. And we grilled it all ourselves. Not to shabby.

Returning from a lake the next day we ended up chatting with two English travelers who stayed in our same hostel on the bus. We got into a conversation about our love for Mos Burger and one of them said they had just been last night to the Mos Burger 2 blocks from the hostel and that he would gladly show us the way. Clay followed the man to grab the burgers and I went to have a shower before we left for the Pro Wrestling show we had planned to attend that night. I waited for 40 minutes watching 100 helpful hints on TV. Tips on how to tape your bento box so your sushi doesn’t fly all over the place. The best one I think was putting a pair of work gloves under the dresser so you don’t scratch the floor when you move it.

Clay finally returned with something other than Mos Burger. Apparently The Englishman had been to the Beer Garden before their trip to the Mos Burger the night before and what was 2 blocks away ended up being more like 10. Clay told the man that he needed to go back and the man offered to pay for his taxi. It turned out OK though; we didn’t really miss much at the wrestling event. When we arrived we were shocked that A) they sold no beer and B) everyone was dressed like an American trucker but golf clapped each body slam. Clay pointed out “this just proves the fact that the Japanese can sanitize anything.”

There were a couple highlights. First there were the token white dudes dressed up like cowboys. I don’t know for sure, but I suspect they were the only ones who were screaming profanities like “Fuck you Mother Fucker” since they did it in English. I did my best to haggle him with such slanders as “Potty mouth!” and “My grandma wrestles better than you.” But somehow I don’t think he heard me.

The second highlight was this little man Kazu whose partner brought out a sword. They got a grand reception with paper streamers and screaming girls with flowers. Kazu had the best move. He would do a back flip into the elastic of the right and then that would vault him into a forward flip into his opponent at the center of the ring.

MORIOKA & MIA

The next day headed to Morioka to meet Clay’s friend Mia. I have to admit I was a bit nervous since I hadn’t ever met one of Clay’s close female friends. She picked us up from the bus station in her little green trapper keeper car. We chatted at her place and I saw immediately how they were similar in their off-sense of humor. Then we went to dinner, where a bleach haired man named “Sexy” served us an awesome meal. That night we all piled on Mia’s floor and had a slumber party. Clay passed out first, which left Mia and I chatting until 3am. I really liked talking with her. Unfortunately she had to go teach the little children in the morning and was really tired.

Clay and I went back to Tokyo and had lunch with Misako then Clay took the train to the airport and I stayed on. It was really sort of shocking because I had not seen him in about a month and half and he left as quickly as he came. I sat on the train and kept looking at pictures hat I had just taken of him the day before. Lucky for me I didn’t have to be alone. I headed to Toyama to see my cousin Nathan.


TOYAMA & NATE

Toyama was good. Nate had a bunch of free time before his fall classes teaching English would begin and he showed me all over the place. The night I arrived Nate met me in a café in the mall. The waitress knew Nate and was surprised that we were related because she thought I was Japanese. Nate is tall and fair and from my father’s side which has a Euro American blend of French, Irish Scottish, English and Pennsylvanian Dutch (which is the Germans who settled in Pennsylvania and spoke Dutch). My being half Chinese tended to lead most people in Japan to believe that I was a native. I wondered what I might have done to my appearance to look more American than Japanese so that they would want to speak English to me instead of Japanese. Unfortunately, short of stamping “AMERICAN” on my forehead (in Japanese) I think that the Japanese kids had already covered all those areas. They had mastered the white trash rocker, the hip hopper, the punk, the hippie, the yuppie and everything in between. I couldn’t even get touristy in a Kimono because they had come back into fashion and it was summer festival time. I found the easiest way to let them know was when I simply spoke English.

Nate's a funny cousin. He’s especially bright and appears simultaneously nervous and relaxed. I am not sure how he pulls that off, but he does. We went down to the train station and met some English teachers Nate was acquainted with. They discussed who was the most annoying teacher while waiting to go out for a beer. Bored of the gossip and tired of waiting, Nate and I bought two dark Ebisu beers and walked around town. We got some sticker pictures. The machine put our faces in wedding outfits and we couldn't figure out how to change it – a bit disturbing. We even played that crazy drumming game - Nate won with points galore and cute little animations of dancing drums cheering. I think my little drum was left to stand in the rain – but he looked cute doing it. I always do badly at things that require rapid coordination under pressure. I need to be in the zone.

Nathan’s girlfriend, Kazuyo, was also cool - seemingly stoic but actually quite warm and sensitive. I think it was the purple eye make-up haloing her lower lids that gave me the first impression. She says she's too lazy to run but she loves to watch marathons on TV. I have to say it did get heated in the end of the Global Athletics race in that last lap and I was quite comfortable watching it all from the couch. She's also an Othello master who can beat the computer. I dared to play her and was severely stomped. Nate no longer treads that path.

Their very nice friend, Shingo, met Nate at a party. Shingo told Nate he saw him swimming at the gym and they soon they became swimming partners. Shingo is a forklift driver by day and a heavy drinker by night. After we had finished our beers at dinner at 11pm Shingo was going strong - opening a bottles of wine at 3 am. He got up 5 hours later to operate some heavy machinery.

My first night in Toyama we rode bicycles and Shingo rode a moped to the grill house. We rode bikes because Shingo wanted to drink and there is a no-tolerance policy in Japan for drinking and driving. Somehow the moped didn't quite make sense to me. The dinner was excellent including the slimy nato beans and Kazuyo's milk + alcohol beverage. We managed to teach Shingo a couple of bad English pick up lines - not that he needs them. He's already got a cute lady.
On the way back we rode “Yankee-Style”. I stood on the bookrack on the back of the foldable bike and Shingo peddled. It was frightening at first and I think I nearly strangled Shingo with my white knuckled grip. Apparently the real “Yankee-Style” kids wear a handkerchief over the nose and mouth like bandits. We saw a couple of them riding doubles on a moped at the train station. They were not standing on the back, to my surprise. They revved their engines as loud as possible looking around to see who was watching.

After a while I felt like a regular circus rider It wasn’t until we reached the cliff at the edge of the river and Shingo pulled right up to the edge to stop that I realized how drunk he was and I jumped off. I proudly pedaled with him on the back but he jumped off and gave me a shove with his foot as I squealed downhill. The four of us cruised in the light rain in the dark parking lot next to the river. We circled the path under the bridge, swapping bike for moped. Too bad it always seemed too damp to light hanabi (fireworks).

Shingo’s place was right between a river and the Aine hotel (another love hotel!). We all went back to his spacious one bedroom apartment, adorned by Shingo’s girlfriend with various Winnie the Pooh characters dressed up as other animals. After a picture show on the back of my digital camera we all passed out on Shingo’s floor only to wake up 5 hours later to him pressing snooze on his three alarm clocks. My thinking wasn’t entirely clear as I kept pushing the clocks to his hand for him to shut off. Nathan however got up and shook him awake. Poor Shingo had a long day ahead of him including operating a forklift and a required drinking session with his co-workers until twelve midnight.

Nate and I had a full day of banana-raisin French toast sandwiches, bowling, and hyaku yen shopping. I must say that the 100 yen (83 us cents) surpassed any dollar store I have been to in the United States. They really had a variety of about everything you might need for your household and also a plethora of things you don’t need. I was especially excited about the paint markers, iron-on hiragana letters, the perverted and politically incorrect buttons I acquired. We devoured a delicious Mos Burger and headed out to the beach but on the way we stopped at Banbi’s Hobby Shop where you could buy more cute things including a robotic cat that moved its head when you combed it and a bear with an inflate-able arm that you can use for a pillow, at least I think that is what it was for. If I spoke Japanese I might have gone for the karaoke microphone that plays music as well. Somehow I thought a Japanese hobby shop would surpass all expectations of what a hobby shop could be. But really it just had more cute stuff and less leather working and woodcarving.

On my last day we made omelets of great proportion. My cousin and his lady have appetites like football players. I envy their ability to consume more but not their food bills. After feeding our faces there was some debate on whether we should go to an onsen or to the park. I left it up to them and they chose Kanazawa to see Kenrokuen “Garden of the Six Sublimities”. The tolls for highway use are quite expensive I think around $20 US one way for this hour-long ride. The rain came down and as we were 15 minutes away I started to wonder how far away the onsen might be. A nice soak in hot spring seemed preferable to squishing through a wet park. Just as we arrived the rain let up some. It was perfect. As we entered the park we were all hit by a wave of tranquility.

We watched as people walked around the garden with their umbrellas like colorful mushrooms. The misted air was serene. Tree branches were carefully propped by giant stilts guiding their growth. In the pond an immense orange and white carp appeared to have human size and shaped lips. That was the least serene thing about the park but other than that it was all very calming and green. On the way back Nate opted for the free route, which took an extra 1.5 hours, and we stopped for Baskin Robbins before dinner. Dessert before dinner never fails to confuse and excite me. Once my Aunt Belinda served dessert before and after dinner. I nearly lost it that time.

After the soba and katsu dinner they took me to an onsen. It was my first time. I felt a bit embarrassed about getting naked in public. I mean, a women’s locker room where you all sort of stare at your locker while you change is one thing, but getting naked in front of your cousin’s girlfriend whom you just met and a room full of bathing Japanese ladies is another. I was glad at this moment that I could pass for Japanese. If I were tall and blonde I would have to additionally deal with staring. I think some women might have been checking me out but that might be because I have a broader build than most Asian women. Or maybe they were just looking. Who knows? The comforting part was that we were all naked and they were used to it. The only people who can’t come in are those with big tattoos on their backs. Onsen are gangster free. Apparently yakuza have their own onsens. I bet they even let them drink sake and two desserts in the bath.

Even though I was shy about being naked in front of Kazuyo, her understanding and casualness relaxed me and she helped me through the whole operation. I realized that this was so natural, these ladies had grown up coming to onsens and had seen it all -or most of it. After getting naked we bathed sitting in front of a mirror with a little tub of water a small shower and a faucet. Once we were clean we stepped in the water careful not to drop the towel in the water. This place was great. It had jet stream, medicine bath, outdoor bath, salt sauna, and a cedar sauna with a marathon playing on TV.

KYOTO & ME

My last few days in Japan were spent in Kyoto. I was fascinated by the Kyoto Train Station. The first thing I did was go up to the skywalk via a series of carefully placed escalators. Gliding up an escalator you could peer between the columns where high school lovers drank tea and laid their heads in each other’s laps just barely hidden from the world. At the top the view is neat but not spectacular. The Kyoto tower is not much to look at. Rather it reminds me of a large orange and white children’s toy – but it lacks the imagination of being exciting like a toy should be.

At the dorm I met a German traveler, Claudia, and invited her to Gion to look for Geisha. We wandered across the bridge and down the small streets until we heard the distinctive clack clack of the wooden geta shoes. A young Maiko wobbled before us in her green bean colored kimono.

“Quick! Let’s catch her!” Claudia whispered. I looked at her thinking “That’s very rude,” and then “Well, why not.” and started running. Soon we were both bolting towards her and the young Maiko who heard our noisy excitement and turned around. Coming almost to a halt I looked up to the sky knowing how utterly obvious it was. When she turned around again we ran up to her like her number one fan club and I asked as best as I could in Japanese if we could take her picture. She kindly agreed and I told her she was lovely and she said thank you.

After the Maiko Claudia wanted to catch a Geisha. We spotted one without any make up on the street. At least I thought she was a Geisha because she was in Gion at 6pm toting a big package in Kimono. Who knows she may have been someone’s mom going to a birthday party and not a Geisha at all. Regardless I told Claudia she was in hopes that the Geisha hunting might end. We had his a main road and some people were staring. Totally sweaty from running I mustered up the composure to ask her for a photo. She seemed shocked that we would want a photo of her but she also gave us permission.

Dorm life was a bit weird. Luckily, my room was only girls that didn’t snore. One of the roommates was an Icelandic woman who had a tattoo of a unicorn on her back who had come for 3 weeks intensive Japanese language studies. Immersion is definitely the best way to go about learning a language. I studied Japanese for one year and these two weeks were tough but I remembered and learned quite a bit. There was also a police officer from Auburn, New York showed me to the bank which was closed and then bought me a red bean pancake and a flan. He told me that it was illegal to swear in the street but that cops can do it.

My last day I rode a bike along the river and snuck back into the Golden Pavilion after being ushered out the one way door. Funny how they never tell you it was burned down by a crazy monk in the pamphlet. After that I ate delicious tofu pudding and visited an onsen. Realizing I didn't need to see every temple in town I went to see "Pirates of the Caribbean". I thought Johnny Depp and his drunken wit were especially funny but none of the Japanese people laughed. I was most likely the loudest person in the theater.


THE TRAIN HOME

On the train I met an old man who was relentless in his efforts to speak Japanese with me after I asked him when we might see Fuji Yama. He spied my Mishima book and he told me the portrait of Yukio Mishima was a traditional ukiyo-e (wood block print). When I showed him my all my pictures of Japan I found out he practiced sumo as a lad - though you wouldn't know that from his current petite stature. He showed me some pictures of his work and it looked to me as though his is in the business of archiving historical documents and organizing messy desks. He said that old people are useless. I disagreed, “Without them we lose our heritage.” He said, “No, it’s not lost. The old people give their heritage to their children.”

“Five minutes to Mt. Fuji,” he tapped his watch and I rushed out to another car to look through the window. I looked and looked and saw nothing. Finally he came out to the window and pointed to a faint peak hiding behind the clouds. “It’s a pity about the clouds,” he said. “Yes,” I replied, “but if you hadn’t said anything I wouldn’t have seen it at all.”