A plan is only that until it becomes fact, something in the past, something that has already happened.
So it turns out I had enough of urban life and feel other things are to be done. This is only intuition since I have no plans, nothing so concrete as to constitute an answer to the, at least my, age old question of "What now?" 'But, the lack of something else didn't stop me from leaving. After 30 hours of travel time from when I woke up in a friend's Kyoto apartment to catch the train to the airport, a stop in Shanghai to switch planes, I am back in the states and refelcting on my short time in Japan. Soon- Kyoto and my last thoughts on Japan.

At a small club, make that a bar, about the size of a typical American living room we stood drinking our whiskey and Cokes we poured under the table, courtesy of my leather bound flask, saving a little money, and listened to music spun by a DJ, a precursor to the upcoming Fuji Rock Festival.

As we danced to the thumping beats or loud guitars, the majority of the Japanese stood, backs against the walll, moving up and down and side to side staying paralell to the wall as though something may catch them off gaurd- so backs to the wall it is.

In a moment of sheer enthusiasm for the Beastie Boys song "Sure Shot" -that is bound to get almost any non-dead body moving- we persuaded them out to the floor a few feet away from the walls- space in a tiny place is relative. Victory!

As the song wound down, transformed by the DJ into the next groovy beat, I looked around to see all but one of them, backs against the walls, moving ever so slightly, dancing paralell and straight ahead to make sure nothing could surprise them.

Sumo:

Imagine not just big, but huge men each wearing a thick thong, but a thong nonetheless, slapping pulling and pushing their opponent in matches that take less time from start to finish than the warm up exercises and posturing that precede the match.

Maybe it doesn’t sound exciting, you would, perhaps, have to be there. A match every few minutes, non-stop for the four hours I was there. Besides, two men with a combined weight of over 500 pounds is pretty exciting when they throw each other out of the ring, set a few feet above the ground, and fly into one of the judges sitting on each of the four sides. Or, one leaps into the air like a cat and you cannot believe it because someone that big shouldn't be able to leave the ground much less with such agility, like a cat.

Sumo sums up Japan more than anything else maybe. It is the place where the Japanese let go and forget for a moment their conservaitive reputation they usually live up to without fail.

At the end of the match when the champions of the day battle for the championship, which often ends with the judges conferring in the center ring and ruling on the winner, the purple pillows that once served as seats fly through the air as the audience shows their approval.

Most of these photos were taken early on before most people arrived, thus the mass of empty seats. Crowds pile in later in the afternoon when the more well-known professional wrestlers start appearing around 2:30. The tournament takes place over two weeks with matches starting perhaps at 10 AM and running through until the finale at 6 PM and there is hardly a pause all day.
Sumo photos:
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Part of the Japanese psyche seems to be that with the big cities and urban sprawl nature has room, thus the beautifully manicured parks of which there are plenty, and just outside of the urban areas are nature-esque places. Only thirty minutes by train makes a huge difference as you see the city quickly drop to the background and the green mountains with steep valleys spread out in front. As I hopped off the train and headed into the forest on a wide trail next to a creek the sound of the train faded into the distance. I headed into the Tokai Nature Park.

Even here the Tokai nature trail is intersected by roads and at one point a resort. At the resort the sign posts guide you onto a sidewalk around a parking area and back into the woods. It is in this combination of urban and attempts at rural that perhaps a balance is achieved- maybe the lesser of evils. At least there is someplace close by to go and though it may not be my idealistic image of uninterrupted trails winding through forested hills with views that do not include the haze of a not so distant city with peaks of skyscrapers protruding, I do not take it for granted. Wherever you happen to be is where you are and it is what you have to deal with.

Almost Zen- Shoden Pond

At the signpost up ahead, the Tokai Nature Trail- View image

No Japanese adventure would be complete without little statues, or maybe odd ones- View image

I am in Japan and barring the early mid-life crisis that resurfaces constantly pulling my psyche toward some type of stability that constitutes the norm (not sure about actually achieving that one), things here are amazingly not that different. The culture shock I was taught to expect never reared its ugly head.

I have the feeling working somewhere takes the novelty out of being in that place to a great extent. It is not a vacation or traveling except on your days off which, like any job, are rather infrequent and must be earned. Except for the strange language that defies dictionary interpretation, I feel perhaps I have not focused enough on Japan and what people here, foreigners, see and hear and find as odd and strange in the sense we cannot quite understand the "why."

Some of these experiences do not fit into photos such as the student today who I asked why the beaches in Japan are only open two months a year (this is true-July and August). She replied quite simply because it is the rule. I followed up: "You never question the rules?" She answered, "No."

At the local Joy Joy, twenty-four hour karaoke is the name of the game. After surprisingly cheap drinks at a local bar we headed over to the even cheaper drinks at Joy Joy where 1000 yen (less than $10.00) per person gets you a room set with the latest in karaoke equipment and all the swill you can drink until 3 AM. We stayed until 5 AM belting out group renditions of songs ranging from Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" to The Living Ends punk rock anthem "Roll On" and Oasis' "So Sally Can Wait" (probably not the real title). We walked out of the darkness to disappearing shadows as the sun was rising in the distance. By the time I rode home and went to sleep, realizing only two hours of sleep was to be had before getting up for work, it didn't matter. This time no one shut off the song before I really got going.

Takayama- View image

Before actually getting to Takayama, a cliche photo of Japan- what I think people might think: View image

More than one student I asked called Takayama “little Kyoto.” Having never been to Kyoto I felt no obligation to make the comparison. The decision to go to Takayama was based on location, only 2 ½ hours away, and my time off- only a couple days. I will not expand on the cost prohibitive nature of local travel in Japan where a ticket to Thailand or Bali is cheaper than one to Okinawa or Hokkaido except to say this also was a factor.

Takayama boasts many shrines (View image
) and temples, “old” streets and daily markets and an entryway to the Japanese Alps which I could see in the distance with snow still filling some of the valleys. Let me paraphrase my friend Dan’s idea as quoted in Rolf Pott’s book Vagabonding: that after seeing so many gothic churches they all start looking the same…and then what. I think he would say the same about the shrines and temples Japan is so well known for. This is not to discount the significance but rather to note that even significant objects and events can become numbing and relatively little thought given to them after seeing so many.

The exception to the monotony is the Suzya Main Shrine (View image
) which was built in the 1980’s and is a new religion combining Shinto, Buddhism, Christianity and New Age into one idea of “true light” which radiates from the Creator God, etc…Perhaps the English pamphlet lacked a well scripted translation because overall it sounded a bit...hokey.

However, the most interesting part of the trip, the part that makes any trip worthwhile, is the point at which it becomes memorable. For me this was while at the Hida Folk Village.

Pictures of the Hida Folk Village:
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I happened upon a group of students who were learning how to make sandals of intertwined straw. What is now crafts used to be necessity. I could see a few of the students daring their friend to talk to me, obviously the foreigner. A few of them walked outside in their new sandals and we talked for a few minutes. They practiced their English and I my Japanese. We walked up the hill and rang a huge bell together taking turns whacking the small log hanging by rope into the metal. One of them took off a sandal and wanted me to try it on. I put my foot over the top showing the span almost twice the length of the sandal.

I was like a rock star as they took turns taking their picture with me, all waving the peace sign or thumbs up. It was at that time the trip to Takayama became more than a tourist stop, more than something simply to see. I might forget one of them already had the dream of becoming a pastry chef in England- the Japanese love of cake already taking root in the young- but I will remember those few moments of genuine interest in trying to communicate for the simple pleasure of understanding something strange, even for a brief moment.

Hell started freezing over last Wednesday when I, the self-proclaimed advocate for not owning a cell phone, caved in and bought one. Well, technically the phone was free (and it takes pictures) with the service plan. This is my confession.

However, I have convinced myself that here, in Japan, the same rules do not apply. It is impossible here without one. Impossible to have a social life since the only way people talk to each other is text messages. It has already proven itself a helpful communication tool. After a late night and long day at work I realized my keys were still in the pocket of my pants, laying on the floor next to my futon. This much I can picture perfectly. I emailed a flatmate. Within minutes he responded and I conveniently found out that for the next 3 hours I have nothing but time to kill.

This is not a testament to the cell phone, but more of convincing myself it is a good thing.

If you have lived or currently live in a big city perhaps you will agree: the only convenience to a big city is the city itself.

In the grand geographical spectrum I suppose there is convenience of a sort about being in the middle of lower Japan- Kyoto in one direction, Tokyo in another, and the mountains in another, all within 1-4 hours depending on where you want to go. I think of my Uncle Eddie's description of why he thinks Midland, TX, is an OK place. When I told him it seemed pretty out of the way and desolate and asked him why he liked it there he said, "Shawn, what are you talking about? This is the best place place in the country. It's at least four hours in any direction to anyplace you would want to go."

Next week it is off to Takayama, in the foothills of the Japanese Alps, for a day or two. I hope to have some photos to share with you then.

Ignore for a moment that all-purpose utilitarian notion that making things useful is, in all situations, pratical and warranted.

No one really lives by the idea mentioned above, thus the overabundance of personal video libraries and knick-knack collections the only purpose of which is decorative or the safe outlet of a psychotic obsessive-compulsive disorder kept under the guise of miniature ceramic animals and Beanie Babies stored on shelves and displayed without humility.

For those of you who have not seen it, I introduce the combination toilet sink:
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Below is a bowl as on any porcelain god but above, where most people put crocheted decorations topped with candles and other fragrant offerings to cover what we all know can be unpleasant, is the crown of this queen: a sink complete with faucet and shallow basin funneling the water back into the tank for further use as gravity pulls it back into the natural cycle.

There is something inherently unappealing about washing your hands on the toilet or with any part that comes directly from or goes directly to the toilet. I know the saying that basically it is all plumbing, however, I beg to differ on the small detail of what we know as a toilet and what we think of as cleanliness, regardless of where the dog chooses to drink. I do not think I am alone here.

Granted, in the woods I have resorted to the politically incorrectly named "indian charmain" at times when proper facilties did not present themselves or I did not want to wait in line. However, that is part of being outdoors, in nature so to speak, and it is a wild place. In here I'll keep the cleansing of the body's interior and exterior in distinctly separate places.