Home Cooked Meal

Home-economic students at one of the schools I visit, which shall remain nameless, prepare lunch for me every week. It's very sweet, and I'm partly to blame. The first meal, a combo of tuna and pasta, was pretty tasty, and I was a bit over the top in my thanks and praise. Since then, they insist I eat with them each week, which I do, but the meals have been somewhat hit and miss. This past lunch, a dish called yakisoba, was a big whiff, but I managed to choke down most of it. Here is a picture, along with some other random shots.
The home-ec class consists mainly of girls, save these guys who I eat with. The one smiling with the pink apron also is the school's star pitcher.

Try as I might, I could not get any of the home-ec girls to look up. They did not want to be photographed, so they just ignored me.

That round deal in the middle of fried noodles was a boiled quail egg. Yum.

View from the third floor of my school.

He's handy with a broom, and gang signs.

A typical student lunch:pasta sandwich, rice ball. Delicious.

These students were not camera shy. They were cold though. While male students here have donned their wool winter uniforms, the girls soldier on wearing their skirts. So during class, they all put blankets over their legs to keep warm.

Happy Birthday Brothers DeGraff

Hokkaido Continued and Concluded

“The sea was angry that day my friends …”
-- George Costanza
Not wanting to expose Jonas to the elements any further, we dug deep into our dwindling wallets and left the campgrounds behind for the rest of the trip, opting for budget-busting hotels the rest of the way. I suppose you can’t put a price on your child’s health. Believe me, I tried. Tricia, however, would sooner shove me off the ledge of a mountain in order to prevent her baby from falling and skinning his knee, so hotels it was. Actually, the accommodations were a nice change, and at least one of them, a traditional Japanese ryokan, was a new and thoroughly enjoyable experience.

Leaving Daisetsuzan National Park, we hopped on the expressway (which was everything you’d hope for in an expressway. The speed limit appeared to be turned off (an observation confirmed by fellow Hokkaido traveler Andrew) and the traffic was nonexistent. But unregulated speed comes at a price. The expressways in Japan can be expensive – a trip that might cost a few dollars in America cost us around $60 in Japan. This forces drivers to choose between frugality and swift travel. We opted for swift travel). We sped past Sapporo, drove around the port city of Otaru, which is alleged to have a famous canal area, and ultimately decided to bypass both, heading to Niseko, one of the top ski areas in all of Japan, and a beautiful place to hike around in the Fall.

After a white-knuckled drive to the top of the mountain, we stopped and ended up staying at the first place we crossed – a small but spectacularly comfortable Japanese inn. Breakfast, dinner and a round-the-clock onsen were included in the price. The place had a capacity of about 20, and when we arrived, there were only two rooms left. In addition to six couples, there was a group of rowdy Japanese dudes, who dined in their own private room and, from the sound of things, were there to live large. They threw down an astonishing amount of beer and Sake, as evidenced by the parade of bottles heading from the kitchen to their dining area. So I was surprised to find them not only awake and ready to go early the next morning, but also middle-aged and very conservative looking. Even more puzzling, four of them were dressed head-to-toe in hard-core hiking gear – and two of them wore gray suits. One of the hiker guys asked me to take a picture of the group posing in front of the inn (a very Japanese thing to do, it seems), which I did, before they all piled into a stretch minivan and took off together, disappearing into the mountains.


Once again, we loved the onsen, and dinner stood out as the top meal we’ve had in Japan (a close second would be the restaurant near the zoo, where entrées featured a piece of meat from one of the zoo animals). The dinner consisted of numerous small and delicious dishes -- crayfish, sushi, vegetables, rice -- and a large pot of soup with chunks of fish, leek, potato, and more crayfish. Breakfast was just OK, as neither of us are really down with the traditional Japanese breakfast, here or anywhere. You can only adapt so much.

We left Niseko, did some fun hiking with some very serious Japanese mountaineers (pics below). One glaring difference between Japan and America: the high numbers of extremely active old timers here. The mountain was filled with oldsters who take there hiking, and stretching, very seriously. They were all decked out in extensive and serious-looking hiking gear, so serious that I began to worry whether the hike would be too much for us and little Jonas, whose balance isn’t the best even on level ground. As you can see below, I needn’t have worried. All that gear for a stroll on a wooden, man-made path.



Along the way we stopped off at a dairy where, among many highlights, was a goat tethered to a stake in the middle of a field where dozens of kids were playing. The ice cream here was delicious. And the goat, well-mannered.

We spent an unremarkable night in a cabin by a lake, then met friends Andrew and Mary Ellen for beers (so-so) and dinner (pretty good) in Hakodate, the final night of our trip. It was here where Jonas, for the first time in front of my eyes, clearly bowed to another toddler upon first meeting him, drawing laughs from all the Japanese onlookers and surprise from me (Tricia was inside still eating). It was a well-executed bow. I was proud.

After a night of good sleep, and finally, Internet access, we boarded the super-charged, two-hour ferry boat that would speed us from Hokkaido to the main island in luxury and comfort, before a short drive home. Those were our plans.

I started the ferry ride by inhaling a $10-dollar sandwich consisting of oddly colored meats and cheeses. This was a mistake. Not only was it overpriced and far from great, I would struggle the next two hours to keep it down. Getting on the ferry, I hadn’t really noticed the rain and whipping wind (the only bad weather the whole trip). I should have. The nasty weather, coupled with a ferry that promised to be twice as fast as its competition, made for a nauseating combination. In other words, once the ferry got going, it really got going. Scores of people – by my guess, at least 50 – got sick. People vomited on the floor, into barf bags, into just about anything they could get their hands on. Trash cans overflowed with sagging bags of vomit. A line of sick, sweating and green-hued Japanese snaked out the bathroom door and down the hallway, trying with everything they had to maintain their composure. The ferry workers, who ran around wearing sanitary masks, actually ran out of those little air sickness bags, and started handing out full-sized trash bags for people to lose it into. It was a long, stomach-turning two hours. Surprisingly, the three of us managed to hold it together, and hold everything in -- a truly remarkable feat for me, as a winding road can turn my stomach. Tricia was nauseous, but held steady. Jonas was oblivious, although he fell down a lot. It was a rough closing to our trip, but at least the weather saved its worst for last.

Hokkaido

“Getting Away from Already Being Pretty Much Away from it All”
-- David Foster Wallace




Classes were canceled last week for Japan’s annual sports festival , where amateur sports teams from all over Japan assemble in one of the kens (states) and compete in every sport imaginable. This year, the festival just happened to be held in Akita, where we live. It literally was a once-in-a lifetime opportunity, even for the Japanese, as the festival visits a different ken every year and had not been in Akita since 1961. While sticking around was tempting, we decided it was time to get out of the prefecture and visit someplace truly exotic – a vacation from our vacation. And so, at 5:30 a.m., we boarded a ferry for the 10-hour trip to Hokkaido, the northernmost island of Japan, and a place enthusiastically hyped by my friend B-San, the science teacher: “It’s just like America! You’ll love it!”

Tuesday

The ferry leaves at 7 a.m., and we’re advised by our fabulous travel agent to arrive an hour and a half early, which we promptly do – only to sit in the parking lot for an hour waiting to board (it’s already starting to feel like America!). Although it was a 10-hour trip, there isn’t a whole lot to report. The ferry was massive – more cruise ship than ferry. We splurged for a room, in which we all took a relaxing and much-needed 2+ hour nap. What else is there to say? We ate, Jonas made a mess, and we spent most of the trip chasing him around, which is about all we do these days, anyway. Luckily, the ferry was expansive and provided plenty of territory to roam, so all in all, it was a good trip.

There was one episode of note. I forgot Jonas’s milk (still a must for nap taking) in the car, which was below deck, locked and restricted to passengers until we hit land. The cafeteria and restaurant were closed for “preparations,” so I wandered down to the main deck and asked one of the workers for some milk. This caused much confusion – for me, her and the swelling crowd that soon surrounded us. Nearly every passerby, in particular a group of older women whom Jonas entertained earlier, stopped to find out what was going on. I showed them the empty bottle, used the Japanese word for milk, and they immediately knew what I needed. But no one had a solution. One woman started rubbing her stomach and midsection in a circular motion (was she hungry?). Thankfully (or maybe regrettably) her friend cleared everything up. With one hand, she mimicked cradling a baby, and with the other, she used a squeezing motion near her, uh, chest, making what must be the international sign for breast milk. No, I told her. We can’t nurse him. I then pointed at her, asking whether she could for us. This got me a big laugh, but alas, no milk. After a few more frantic minutes, a guy dressed in a track suit (it was unclear whether he worked there) appeared out of nowhere, led me back to the cafeteria, grabbed a jug of milk from the cooler, disappeared for another 10 minutes, then returned with a scalding hot bottle. By the time I got back to the room, Jonas barely touched it, falling asleep on his own.


Wednesday-Thursday

We camped near the port our first night, then took off for Daisetsuzan National Park, where we stayed two nights and were the only campers in sight (to which B-san said, “Of course you were the only ones! Hokkaido is very cold. Japanese people know this!”). The days were sunny and beautiful, and the nights were indeed on the cool side, which would have been fine, but Jonas was still getting over a cold, and we decided that, after three nights outdoors, the frigid weather wasn’t helping. So these also were the last nights of camping for us. We hiked a bit, Tricia and Jonas took a cable car to the top of Asahidake, the tallest mountain in Hokkaido(I stayed safely on the ground; the car looked rickety and suspect to me. If Tricia and Jonas wanted to risk their lives, fine. But I wasn’t about to), and spent each night soaking in an onsen (hot spring), which for all three of us, may have been the highlight of the trip.







We also visited the Asahiyama Zoo, which, depending on your source, is either the most-visited zoo in Japan, or the second-most visited (the zoo in Tokyo is its competition, and considering 35 million people live in metro Tokyo, and virtually no one lives in Hokkaido, I’ll give Asahiyama the benefit of the doubt for most popular. I’d imagine a couple thousand people at least visit the Tokyo zoo just to ask for directions). However, it is unquestionably the northernmost zoo in Japan – a curious point of pride, which is highlighted in nearly every description I saw, including on its web site which reads, "Asahiyama Zoo: There are many unique interactive animal viewing facilities here at Japan's northernmost zoo."

As it turns out, the most unique interactive animal to view was Jonas. A group of uber-hip kids from Osaka went berserk when they saw him, stopping us to pose for pictures, which, in turn, drew an even bigger crowd. After awhile, we just had to plow through them to get out of there. Here are some picks, including those of the real animals.





(more to come soon)
For more pictures click on the slideshow below

Camping, Part II

Sunday

We swapped campgrounds for our second night of camping. The site nearest the lake, while beautiful, proved to be full of danger for Jonas. First off, the camping areas consisted of leveled-off plateaus, which gave us some nice privacy but also created steep drop-offs on all four sides of the campground, which Jonas tumbled down a couple of times. He’s tough though. So even that might have been manageable, but the slopes fed into several concrete drainage gutters about six inches deep and wide – just big enough for a small boy to fall into and wash away, forever lost in Japan’s deepest lake. The drainage system was puzzling. It seemed a little much to me, considering the campground already was built on a decently steep decline, where the water could just run downhill naturally. Our friend Andrew theorized they were built mainly to give Japanese construction workers something to do. I suspect he’s right.

The new campground was high up in the mountains, where nearly all of the photos were taken. Best of all, the campground was nice and flat, so Jonas was free to run around picking up sticks and kicking his soccer ball. We knocked the ball around for awhile with a very cheerful 5-year-old Japanese boy, whose family camped near us (he’s the kid who makes the late appearance in the video of Jonas playing soccer). The rest of the day was spent on a short hike, at an Italian restaurant in a nearby ski town (surprisingly good), and cooking some meats and vegetables on a small grill we bought on sale at the hardware store. Purchasing the grill was a special thrill for me, as it was labeled half price, yet when I took it up to the register, I was charged full price. I managed to communicate through some terribly broken Japanese and many hand gestures that this wasn’t the correct price, and after a few panicked moments from the salesman, the mix-up was cleared up. A major difference in our cultures, we’ve found, is the level of professionalism and helpfulness of the workers here (even if it is part act), whether it’s at a hardware store, gas station or pricey restaurant. They’re aghast at even the appearance of a customer slight, and literally sprint from spot to spot to correct the situation. In general, Japan has this all-around positive vibe to it that I will definitely miss when we leave.

Monday


(not actually us)

After a colder-than-expected night, we ate breakfast, packed up the camping gear and headed off to the area’s famous onsens. The region is named Nyuto, which was described to me in great detail by my co-worker, who we’ll call B-San (a science teacher who studied in America for a year and speaks impeccable English. He sits next to me on Tuesdays, and is hilarious. He swears constantly, partly I think, because he knows only I can understand him). As B-san tells it, Nyuto literally translates to nipple, “You know, the nipple. The breast. The boob,” he said while cupping an imaginary breast, as if his description didn't do the job. The hot springs here have a milky-white appearance (hence the name). It has something to do with sulfur in the water, and is supposed to be medicinal in some way, which along with their remoteness, make them a popular draw. We found a “mixed onsen” where we could all enjoy the hot spring together. It might be our last mixed onsen experience, though. I won’t go into detail, but there was an off-putting guy who enjoyed wandering around the onsen, uh, displaying himself to everyone. It wasn’t exactly threatening; just odd. Each onsen also has a male-only, and female-only bath, which is what I’ll opt for next time. Aside from that, the hot spring was amazing and refreshing, and we all loved it. After that, we headed back to Akita City.


Next week (actually, tomorrow), we’re off to Hokkaido for a week-long vacation. Among the sites we’ll visit: “Japan’s Northernmost Zoo,” as described by the travel brochure. It’s also the most popular, with the most visitors annually.
But never mind that detail.

Buddhist Temple

Today Jonas and I visited a Buddhist Temple a few minutes away from our house while Jason stayed home to clean. Jonas and I definitely got the better end of the deal. The apartment looked great when we returned home.

I hadn't planned to visit this Temple today, but when I biked by I felt compelled to stop. There are many shrines and temples here, but this one happens to be on a road that I bike on quite often. The temple was beautiful and reminded me that I'm really in Japan.

Jonas and I were the only people there. It was a beautiful time of day-about 4:30, the sun was shining, but the air was cool. It was so quiet. Jonas was intrigued by all the stone and steps to climb. There were colorful flowers and old stone. I didn't understand what I was looking at and couldn't read anything. I had to come home and look up the difference between Shinto Shrines and Buddhist Temples to decide which we visited. I decided Shinto Shrine**, but I could be wrong. Even though I had no idea what the words, symbols and statues signified, I felt moved at this place. There was something about it, that I can't quite describe. I felt peaceful and reflective. I enjoyed watching Jonas explore.

**I was wrong, so I corrected this in part of the entry. I talked to some co-workers who explained some differences to me between shrines and temples. They told me that I visited a Buddhist Temple, because there were statues there. They said that shrines do not have statues. The statues did not look like Buddha to me, but I guess they are representations of Buddha that are different than what we normally see in the states. I also found out that many families in Japan practice both Shinto and Buddhist traditions. There are different shrines for different reasons. For example, my co-worker told me that there is a specific 'learning' shrine that people visit before big exams!

To view more photos go to:

Buddhist Temple

This post is long, but hey, I didn’t have much to do this afternoon. No classes, as the term is over today, and most of the teachers took vacation and bolted at noon.

Friday

The Subaru salesman delivered our new car, which I’ve mentioned is exactly like our old car in America, to my school, where it was waiting for me at the end of the day (yes, delivered. The process took weeks, but the dealer handled most of the paperwork, thank god, and when it was ready he drove it to our door, or rather, my school’s door). For being 10 years old, it’s in remarkable condition. The engine has 72,000 kilometers (about 44,000 miles) on it, which Tricia was suspicious of, considering its age, which made me suspicious. Tricia speculated the car actually had 172,000 km, not 72,000, and concluded that the “1” didn’t register when the car hit the century mark. Who knew she was such an Encyclopedia Brown! So, at her urging, I prodded the salesman a couple of times about the mileage (or the kilometereage), when he finally said, “Perhaps an old woman owned it. Perhaps she drove it only to the store and back.” That seemed reasonable to me. It's a week later now, and I realize it’s the same line an American car salesman once used on me. I fell for it then, too.

Saturday

Having less stuff and less space did not mean that we moved any faster on the eve of a weekend camping trip. Like usual, we were on the road later than we hoped, the car was packed tighter than I anticipated, but once we were moving, it was like visiting a whole new country. People have wondered how far we are from the mountains, and it feels like, at least in this part of Japan, that it would be harder to get away from the mountains than it would be to get to them. They surround you. Minutes outside of Akita City we’re passing through forests and rice fields -- where the harvest was in full swing -- and heading up and into the mountains. The drive is slow and stunning. The first night we camped near Lake Tazawako, incidentally, described everywhere with gusto as “the deepest lake in Japan” – as though that were the real reason tourists flock there, to waste a weekend pondering the tremendous depths of Japan’s endlessly bottomless lake. “True, the camping is overpriced, the scenery horrid and the weather crappy – but check out this lake. Is it deep, or what?” When pressed (and this is true) people would actually add, “It’s also considered the most beautiful lake in Japan.” Not that you’d want to advertise that.

Getting to the lake is a 1 ½ hour trip that we turned into a 2+ hour adventure as we ended up driving in a complete circle around the lake (thank god its not the widest in Japan) before finally spotting the campground. Had we simply glanced over to our left when we pulled up to the lake, I suspect we would have spotted the campground straight away. Instead, we missed it completely, turning right not left and heading off down a road we didn’t need to go down, reaching the same spot we had left about a half hour later, realizing, “Oh, it’s right here.”

We camped near (although not among) the other English teachers. Tricia thought I was being overcautious, but I remember what it is like to be in my mid-twenties, unattached, drunk and stupid. I had images of someone puking in Jonas’ pack-and-play, crawling into the pack-and-play, and then curling up in a ball next to Jonas and falling asleep. I figured the further away we were, the less likely this could happen. So Jonas and I called it an early night and headed back to our tent after a group dinner, while Tricia partied it up with the rest of the kids.

I leave you with the best video of Jonas yet.

… more to come …