Anecdote #9: Fushimi Inari at Sunset

April 25, 2008

Night 5: Monday, March 24th
near Kyoto

There has always been something a little unnerving about so many red arches snaking through raw forest up the mountain. Why is that? Perhaps in broad daylight Fushimi Inari is nothing but another novel tourist attraction. But at sunset, as the tourists begin to leave, as the last orange light makes the shrine softly glow, there is something thrilling about walking through all those torii, like the start of a grand adventure.

To put it simply, Fushimi Inari at sunset is creepy. But then, that was what we were hoping for.

We brought a picnic dinner to Fushimi Inari: riceballs and snacks we had bought in Uji. When we got to the shrine, the fading sunlight was perfect pictures, which made me happy. Jenny and Hedy were happy going underneath the torii, their first time. The forest around us was bright and crows were cawing.

“This isn’t so scary,” Jenny said.

“Just wait.”

When we sat down to eat our dinner, there were two cats watching us. They were bold cats. I was eating Inari-zushi, rice wrapped up in sweet fried tofu. The cats came right up to us and stared at our food.

“Shoo,” said Hedy, waving at the cats with her hands. They moved two feet back and hissed.

Fushimi inari is named after the god Inari, who uses foxes for messengers. There is nothing foxes like so much as inari-zushi. Foxes can change shape in Japanese mythology. They are neither good nor bad. Some are benevolent. Others are vengeful, malicious tricksters. They take perverse joy in tricking humans.

Hedy had gotten natto sushi by mistake. Natto, fermented soybeans, are pungent and disgusting. “Throw them to the cats.” Hedy rolled it into the forest, but the cats didn’t chase it.

They want my inari-zushi, I thought as I popped the last one into my mouth.

It was getting darker. Crows cackled constantly. Caw, caw, caw. Light was flitting through the rustling forest.

“Okay,” Jenny said, “it is starting to get a little creepy.”

Hedy wanted to go to the top of the mountain, and so we climbed. Up the stairs, through the tunnel, with the light growing dimmer all the time. When we gained altitude, we could see Kyoto lit up at night. It was beautiful. And still the stairs kept coming.

We reached the top and rang the bell. But now it was dark.

“I don’t want to go back the way we came,” I told my friends. “If we go left instead of right, I think we’ll come to a place where the torii are thicker than these ones. I really want you to see it. Or, I know a path that goes through the cemetery.”

“No cemetery,” Jenny said.

We turned off the familiar path and went through the torii. Lanterns came on, giving us dim light. We met a few people coming up. “For once I’m glad this is a major tourist attraction,” Jenny said. “For once, I’m glad there are people here.”

But people grew scarcer. We were going down the mountain. I knew where we were going, I knew, and yet I began to doubt. What if I got us lost? What if this was the work of the foxes? They have confused the landscape and however much we walk, we’ll never make it down the mountain.

The steps down were steep. “I’m going down slowly,” I said, “because I don’t want to slip.” What if I slip and twist my ankle? What if the foxes cause me to slip? Suddenly I can’t get down the mountain. My friends try to help me, but we’re moving slowly. Easy prey.

“What’s that ahead?” Jenny said.

There was a ball of light in the forest.

“It's a flashlight. Someone’s coming up.”

We found the place where the torii grew thick. Behind us, the lamps were still dimly glowing. But there was no light up ahead. The tunnel was dark.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jenny said.

And suddenly the lamps go out. It’s pitch black and we’re all alone. And then we hear cackling. Not the crows. This is high-pitched, wild, evil laughter. And then we see yellow eyes. The foxes crawl out from the tunnel of torii, and we are in their power now.

“People are coming.”

They came out of the tunnel with a construction worker, who brought a flashlight. When he saw us standing there, he led us down the tunnel. As we came to the end, we knew where we were. We were at the main shrine, where we had started. The train station was only a few minutes walk away. We were safe.

At the inn, I wanted to tell ghost stories, but Jenny, for some reason, didn’t want to hear them.

Anecdote #8: Uji and the Tale of the Cute Guy

April 25, 2008

Day 5: Monday, March 24th
near Kyoto

And now I come to an important point I’ve thus far neglected to mention: Hedy thinks Asian guys are cute. It was one of the reasons she wanted to come to Japan. While Jenny and I were fussing over maps and temples and directions, Hedy would calmly admire the “scenery.” Occasionally, she would point it out to us.

“Look over there,” Hedy would say. “That guy.”

“Eh, he’s not that cute,” Jenny would say.

“Yes. He’s cute,” Hedy would insist.

“Where?” I would say, turning my head back and forth.



Hedy had a simple goal: she wanted to take a picture of a cute guy. Sometimes she would point out a guy and take out the camera. (Incidentally, it was usually my camera since Hedy didn’t have a camera of her own.) But then she’d hesitate. Sometimes she’d get embarrassed. Other times she’d try to get a good angle. Whatever the reason, she would wait too long and the guy would turn his head or pass by or something would happen. And so she never got a good picture.

Jenny and I were becoming impatient.

“You’re too slow,” I told Hedy on the train to Uji. She had thought the conductor was cute, but after three minutes of angling all she had gotten was a blurred photo. “Just take out the camera and take the picture.”

“But I’m afraid they’ll see me. They’ll get mad at me and tell me to delete the picture,” Hedy said.

“They won’t get mad at you,” I said. “If anything, they’ll be flattered.”

“Besides, it’s not like you’ll see them again,” Jenny said. “We’re in a foreign country. You have to be bold.”

We got off at Uji City, a fifteen-minute train ride from Kyoto. We had gone there that afternoon to see Byodoin, the famous Phoenix Temple. But the city itself was very pleasant.



Uji described itself as “The City of the Tale of Genji.” As if to offer proof, it had erected small stone statues of Lady Murasaki, the author, and Genji and his love. It was also famous for its bridges—there were three and at least one was the site of a famous battle. It had a shrine that was a World Heritage Site, although our Lonely Planet guidebook decried it as boring. Still, what probably caught our attention more than anything was the fact that it was a small town. The streets weren’t crowded with people. There were grocery shops instead of souvenir stands.

We came to the bridge first and enjoyed the wind and the sight of water rushing by. We walked to the temple. It was a nice temple, large and wooden. The beams underneath it made it seem like it was floating and there were a couple of rooster-looking phoenixes on the top. We strolled around the building and went to the museum.



Once, Hedy tried to take a picture of a cute guy in a gray shirt, but it failed and she was disappointed.

We sat down to rest. I was taking pictures, when Hedy suddenly said, “Look, there he is again.”

“Who?”

“The cute guy in the gray shirt.”

I saw him standing near the temple. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll take a picture of him.”



I looked at him through my camera, trying to get him in my shot. But just as the picture clicked, he looked at me. I stood absolutely still and took more pictures, feigning that I was taking pictures of the scenery. Behind me Hedy and Jenny were giggling.

“There,” I said. “I took it. Let’s go.”

But they were still giggling and it made me embarrassed.

“He looked right at you,” Jenny said. “He knew you were taking a picture of him.”

“It didn’t help that you two were laughing,” I said, grumpy.

Afterwards, we looked at the picture. “It’s actually a good shot,” Jenny said. “I like the temple in the background. It’s like a contrast between old and new. It’s almost like an ad.”

That made me proud. “Are you happy with it Hedy?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, eyes shining.

We talked of my heroic deed as we walked to the shrine. Hedy gave me the full account of what was going on while I was taking the picture, how Jenny had noticed my camera turning and kept saying, “Oh my gosh, he knows, he knows.” Jenny was proud of her role, saying if she hadn’t been talking, he wouldn’t have looked straight into the camera like that and we wouldn’t have gotten such a good shot.



Uji Shrine was a small, old shrine, with a thatch roof that was growing moldy. To wash your hands, you had to go into a small building with an open door. There was a stone plank to stand on, but the rest of the floor was dark water. The shrine was small and quiet and ancient. It was mysterious. It was interesting.

But before we came into the shrine, Hedy took Jenny’s camera and took pictures of her being silly. Jenny said she wanted a group shot of us in front of the shrine and she asked some guys. The guys were cute. We took a group shot.

Later, looking through the pictures, the shots of Jenny being silly were only half focused on her. In the background were cute guys—the same guys that had taken our picture.

“I’m glad you got a picture of them,” I said. “Those guys were cute. And nice. Good job, Hedy.”

Anecdotes #7: Biking

April 25, 2008

Day 4: Easter Sunday, March 23rd
Kyoto

The bicycle shop had a strange odor. There was no one inside. “Ano, sumimasen,” I said. Um, excuse me.

The man came out. I told him, in Japanese, that we wanted to rent bikes. As he took out the bikes, I noticed there was a dog in the corner. That accounted for the smell. Partially.

If it were up to me, we wouldn’t be riding bikes, but Jenny really wanted to. If we were going to go bicycling, today was the day. It was the last day in our hostel in downtown Kyoto. I had wanted to show Jenny and Hedy Heian-jingu and Nanzen-ji. They were close to our hostel. We could easily ride bikes.

“It will be 1000 yen per bike,” the man said, in Japanese. “Have them back by 7 PM.”

We paid the man, but Hedy was a little wobbly on her bike. She had to trade her’s in for a bike similar to my bike at home: with u-shaped handlebars and a lock in the back. Jenny and I had different bikes. I preferred the style of Hedy’s bike.

For Hedy’s sake, we rode slowly. I was the navigator, as usual. We turned right at the corner and rode along the river. It was nice scenery.



Our first stop was Heian-jingu. I had been to it before, as an exchange student. That first time, I was the first one into the garden. This time, we were a little later and it was a little more crowded.

I had been so excited about showing my friends, but when the moment came it was a little disappointing. I had been to Heian-jingu in mid-May, when everything was green and irises were packed along the edges of the pond. Coming in March, the garden seemed a little bare.

Still, Heian-jingu had one major selling point. At one part of the pond there were several large round stones leading up to an island. It had been featured in Lost in Translation, just for a few seconds. But Jenny, who loved that movie, remembered that scene.

There was a bridge at the end. I had seen a turtle there once. Hedy liked turtles. We sat down, but I saw nothing more exciting than ducks. I remembered that before I saw the turtle, I had seen girls feeding fish. I bought 50 yen (50 cents) worth of bread. We fed the fish.

Sure enough the turtle came. He came from underneath the bridge, swimming in the water. Hedy tried to save him some bread, but the fish were too fast. The turtle lurked back beneath the bridge.

We went to a souvenir shop and had lunch. When we returned to our bikes, we rode to Nanzen-ji.

We were riding the same path I had walked last time I was in Kyoto. I knew the area well. I wanted to point out the things that had fascinated me the first time: the water fountain, that strange golden statue. But they didn’t seem interested.



Nanzen-ji was one of my favorite temples last time. I had gone there when the day was still early and few people were there. I had explored the aqueduct, admired the beautiful paintings, climbed up to the top of the gate. It was serene and, without frills, it was beautiful. But as we came up this time, there were already many people walking toward the temple. And as we went inside, my friends were silent.

I stewed. My friends didn’t say anything bad, and I took this to mean they didn’t like it. That I had disappointed them. This made me resentful. Well, maybe they didn’t like it, but I did. I dragged behind them, silent myself.

I should clarify that these may not have been my friend’s true feelings; I didn’t ask them, so I don’t know. It was rather what I felt at the time.

I suppose it wasn’t just Nanzen-ji. On many levels, my friends and I were experiencing Japan differently. They saw everything as new, whereas I already knew most things. It didn’t just mean that they got excited while I didn’t. It just meant that different things excited us. My friends went crazy over ramen. I could have ramen anytime I felt like it. But I was raving about MosBurger, a Japanese hamburger chain that I’ve only been to three times in my life. To them, I suppose, it was just hamburgers. But these little things were irritating, because it kept us from having a shared experience.

And there was something else, too. I was getting sick of playing tour guide. Before the trip, I was looking forward to showing my friends around and impressing them with my Japanese. But now that it was happening, I was tired of my friends relying on me. I hated having to ask for directions all the time. I hated feeling like my friends were dependent on my expertise for their happiness.

To surmise, I was in a bad mood. I was in a bad mood, but I kept it to myself.

We rode back. It was three or four, and Jenny was disappointed with having to return our bike so early. She had enjoyed riding around the city.

There was a spot by the river we had discovered on our way to Heian-jingu. There was seating made of brick and stone, and just across the river was a statue. We rested here.

I took pictures. Slowly, my bad mood was seeping away.

Anecdotes #6: A Bad TV Movie

April 25, 2008

Night 3: Saturday, March 22nd
Kyoto

We were flipping through channels, bored, when we stumbled upon a weird little show. The first image I clearly remember is a bunch of cute, furry puppets, vaguely resembling hamsters, running along. Suddenly some demon machine thing comes out and snatches them up in its jaws. One hamster gets away. But a woman wearing a white dominatrix outfit with a white beehive hairdo whips it.

Jenny, Hedy, and I looked at each other. What the heck…?

It turned out the white lady and her boss, a strict-looking man in a suit, were melding Japanese spirit-creatures with machines, to make demon transformers. In the meantime, the little boy befriends the lone hamster-thing. At some point he wanders into the woods and meets all these creatures from Japanese mythology. Their meeting is not happy and pleasant. He sees a woman without a face and a woman whose head falls to the floor and whose neck stretches like a boa constrictor. Jenny was actually frightened during this part, despite the bad special effects.

The boy eventually finds out these are the good people who are fighting the white lady and her boss. They take the boy to meet a powerful spirit. The spirit gives the boy a sword, but the white lady abducts the spirit and the hamster as well.

The hamster almost escapes. It escapes in a hilarious way. The machine-monster thing squeezes it and the hamster is so frighten that it pees. The pee short-circuits the machine. Unfortunately, the white lady recaptures it and tosses it into the furnace, where Machine-monsters are made.

“Oh no,” Jenny said. “What will happen to it?”

At this point we had to see the rest of the show.

The boy gets a change of clothes. He rallies the spirits to attack the bad guy’s fort. He uses his magical sword to kill the transformer demons.

“I bet they’ve turned his hamster into a monster and he’s going to have to fight it.”

“No,” Jenny said.

But I was right.

It cut to the bad guys. It was obvious to me the white girl was in love with her boss.

“He’s going to kill her,” I said.

“Why would he do that?” Jenny said.

But I was right again. Do I know Japanese drama or what?

The big evil boss, after running the white-haired girl through with a sword, stands on the brink of the crucible, preparing to meld himself with a machine. He jumps in. But then a comic relief character bumps into a guy collecting beans (???) and instead of a machine, the guy gets melded with a bean.

“What kind of stupid way to die is that?” I said. “I mean, at least the white-haired girl died with dignity. But that was just…laughable.”

At the very end, the hamster-thing was shown alive. But then, the big bad guy reappeared and he had red beans where his pupils should be.

“That’s the end?” Jenny said. “We watched it for that?”

It was a bad, bad movie. We couldn’t even be sure if it was comedy, horror, or a children’s action movie. But somehow it entranced us. That night we stayed up until 11:30. That was, by far, the latest we would ever stay up in Kyoto.

Anecdotes # 5: Imperial Palace Park, Two Temples, and the Castle in Kyoto

Day 3: Saturday, March 22nd
Kyoto

For some reason, I got stuck planning the first few days of Kyoto. Hedy hadn’t researched the area and was happy with wherever we took her. Jenny had done research, but she was rather jet lagged and only nodded along as I laid out my plans. For our first full day in Kyoto, we would start at the Imperial palace park, in the center of the city. We’d go northwest to Ryoanji, then come back a few stops to Kinkakuji. From Kinkakuji, we could easily go to Nijo-jo, the castle, if we had extra time.

“So, this was my idea,” I said. “Or would you rather go somewhere else or….”

“Nope. Sounds good,” Jenny said.

That morning Jenny wore boots. They were brown boots going up to her thighs, and they had holes in the soles. She asked if they would be all right to wear. I said I guessed so. But tennis shoes would be better. I had never been to these places and didn’t know what to expect.



We took the bus to Imperial Palace Park. There’s nothing so pleasant as a stroll through the park in the morning. It was nice weather and the park wasn’t crowded. A few people walked dogs and a few people rode bikes.

“I want to ride a bike,” Jenny said.

We walked to the wall of a minor palace. I had my friends pose so I could take a picture, and Jenny casually rested her hand on the gate. A few minutes later we heard an alarm sound. “Jenny, stop touching the gate!” I said. We walked away from that area very quickly.

After that we admired the flowers. I recognized sakura, cherry blossoms, and ume, plum, but I didn’t know what the bright red flowers were. Perhaps peach or apricot? We were so happy to see the sakura though. I had so badly wanted my friends to see the famous cherry bloom. If I knew how much we’d see of the flower later on, I wouldn’t have been so excited.

As we got toward the main part of the imperial palace, Jenny complained that her feet hurt. The roads along the park were made of loose gravel, which poked though the thin, holey soles of boots. The path along the front of the Imperial Palace was long; Jenny demanded a piggyback ride.

Somehow I ended up carrying her. She was heavy.

We couldn’t go into the imperial palace. We just saw the roof poking past the gate. It was a pretty roof.

After we passed the palace, we ended up in a wooded area. The path was dirt, much softer on Jenny’s feet. At one point, I saw a man (a foreigner) take out a flute and play a lovely tune. It was so nice, walking in the park, enjoying the good weather, and listening to music.

Suddenly Jenny cried out, “I lost my earring.”

The big dangling heart on her right ear was gone. We all looked through the grass, but it was nowhere in sight. After some discussion, we retraced our steps. Fortunately, Hedy was smart enough to think to check our digital cameras, so we didn’t have to search the whole park. By magnifying group shots, we discovered that Jenny had her earring on at the gate (where we set off the alarm), but it was gone by the time we got to the flowers.

We searched the area, but to no avail. We couldn’t find it.



After that, we went to Ryoanji, a temple famous for its rock garden. There are 15 rocks in the garden, but, no matter which angle you sit at, you can only see 14. Actually, the rock garden was smaller than I thought, and so it was a little disappointing. But we had a pleasant walk around the garden.

For lunch we had ramen (again!). It was good ramen, but when Hedy and Jenny said they could eat ramen for dinner tonight too, I put my foot down. I get sick of ramen very easily.



We went to Kinkakuji, or the Temple of the Golden Pavilion. It is perhaps the most photographed temple in Kyoto. The outside is covered with gold foil and it sits on a pond, which gives it a splendid look. A more impressive feat, however, is its ability to look relatively empty. There were hordes of people surrounding us, but when you look at the pictures, you’d swear we were the only ones there.

From Kinkakuji, we took the bus to Nijo-jo, the castle in Kyoto. It was called a castle, but to me it looked more like a palace. All castles I’ve seen in Japan are several stories high and heavily fortified. Nijo-jo appeared to be one story high, maybe two stories at the most. And I didn’t see any holes in the wall for firing guns and arrows. Still, it was beautiful.



Nestled inside the roof were carvings of phoenixes and the edges were gilded gold. We walked along the “nightingale floors,” a device a suspicious warlord had installed to warn him of spies. With so many people, the floors squeaked and whistled and sang. The insides of the palace were filled with beautiful paintings. Jenny and Hedy went ahead, but I walked slowly, savoring the art.

We walked along the garden. At the very end were benches for visitors to sit. Jenny didn’t sit. She ran through the grass in her knee-high brown boots and lay down, stomach-up, hands tucked underneath head, on the bench. Hedy and I followed suit. Lying down, we could see black branches spread along the sky.

Hard to believe then, with open space around us and the blue sky above, but not thirty minutes later we’d be pressed against a mass of humanity, squirming just to move as people pushed us from behind. Because once we got out of Nijo-jo, we had to take the bus back to our hostel.

It was about 5:00 PM and we had somehow landed in the middle of rush hour. I watched a bus heading towards Kyoto station. It was jammed packed when the bus opened its doors. The people were like a wall. But the people kept pushing their way in. One, two, three, four. The wall wriggled as more people kept squeezing in. A full dozen or more had somehow crammed themselves in before the bus’ doors closed. It was fascinating and disturbing to watch.

A few minutes later that was us.

I couldn’t see Jenny and Hedy. I could barely see through the heads in front of me to see what the next stop was. I couldn’t move, but somehow I kept inching my way forward. Whenever people got off, the rest of us moved forward. Every little bit of space was precious. And more people were coming abroad.

Jenny told me later that an old lady had pushed her rudely. This same old lady thanked her excessively when Jenny offered a free seat to her. I got separated from Jenny and Hedy, but I managed to get to the front of the bus, where I could see the stops. About two stops before ours, in the middle of downtown, the bus suddenly emptied. We could breathe again. Literally.

Anecdotes # 4: Hostel and Downtown

April 25, 2008

Night 2: Friday, March 21st
Kyoto

In the lobby of the BaKpaK Hostel (or perhaps I should call it the common room?) had two sofas, a coffee table, and a huge TV. There was a computer in the corner with free Internet access. Near the sofa were pictures of famous sites in Kyoto. Near the TV was a collage of Japanese anime video covers.

In the days that would come, we would take over that lobby. In the morning, we’d put our instant coffee or chamomile tea on the coffee table and eat our bread on the couch. We’d flip through the morning news programs to see the weather—but inevitably, Jenny or Hedy would just go online to check. In the evening, we’d drop everything and crash. Jenny would lay across Hedy’s lap like a housecat. Once, Jenny threw a fit in the lobby. Once, we tried on kimonos and took pictures in the lobby. Once, I spoke for an hour to a girl who lived in Germany in the lobby. Other people might pass through, but for the next three days we owned the lobby.

For now, however, we sat in the lobby and tried to figure out our next move. We were hungry. We hadn’t eaten lunch. (“We’ll eat when we get there.”) It was now 4:30 and we were thinking dinner.

“There’s an Indian restaurant on the map. How about Indian food?”

“You’re in Japan and you want Indian food?” I said.

“We’ll have lots of time to eat Japanese food.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine with me. I mean, I eat Japanese food all the time.”

We set out. It was beautiful weather and now that we weren’t lost and our luggage had been deposited, we could enjoy it. A river ran through the city downtown. We walked along it as the afternoon cast long shadows.

We never did find that Indian restaurant. We got lost somewhere around the bridge and ended up in the wrong direction. But I spied a ramen shop and we ate there. The shop was small and utilitarian—that is to say, it didn’t have much atmosphere. The ramen was decent, but my friends loved it.

Afterwards I wanted ice cream, but there are few ice cream shops in Japan. We wandered. It was getting dark. We found a street lit with restaurants and wandered down, looking at the people. We found a park with low swings and a seesaw. At some point, we forgot the ice cream and became obsessed with our wandering. We wandered into Gion, home of the geisha, but we didn’t know it at the time.

Once—and I remember this clearly—we saw a woman in a red kimono and white face makeup pass us along the street. I think she was a maiko—a geisha’s apprentice.

I’ve seen ordinary women in kimonos, but they never paint their faces white. I’ve seen girls dressed up as geishas posing near famous temples. But those girls are followed by a photographer. This woman was out at night, walking quickly as if she had somewhere to be. And we were near Gion. In hindsight, I think she was a geisha.

“Quick, take a picture,” Jenny said.

But I froze. I didn’t.

Anecdotes #3: The Perils of Too Much Luggage

April 25, 2008

Day 2: Friday, March 21st
Tokyo and Kyoto

I had told them to pack light.

Jenny pulled out a Cosco-sized tub of coffee and a jumbo can of jalapeños from her suitcase. She pulled out two large creamers, two sudoku books, and a fat tub of markers. She pulled out hot chocolate mixes, four kinds of tea, a couple cans of coconut milk, taco seasonings, pencils, candy, and a few magazines. This was all for me.

I brought one backpack and one small luggage.

I was touched that my friends back home had thought of me and gotten me so much stuff. At the same time, we were traveling, and when you travel in Japan, you want to try and pack light.

Jenny had to put everything back in her suitcase. We were going to Kyoto.

But first we had to get to Tokyo. We lugged the luggage up the overpass, pant, wheeze, to the station. We had to transfer lines. We dragged the luggage, thunk, thunk, down the stairs. We had to find out where to get tickets for the shinkansen (the bullet train). We pulled our suitcases, grumble, gripe, through the heavy crowds. And then we were on the shinkansen.

We could relax for a couple hours.

But our hostel in Kyoto was downtown. We had to transfer again. The problem was that we didn’t know which line to take. We knew the name of the station: Shijo. Unfortunately, both the subway and the train line had a station called Shijo—in different areas. We had to choose.

Of course we chose wrong.

We ended up in the middle of a crowded shopping area, with nothing that looked like a hostel in sight. Now we were dragging our suitcases, looking for our hostel and asking for directions. A kindly pedestrian told us we were in the wrong part of Kyoto and had to get on a bus. Jenny, grumpy from having to lug all the luggage around, preferred to take a cab.

The cab driver took us to the other Shijo station, but he didn’t know the right exit. We went down the stairs. We found our exit. We went up the stairs. We got to our hostel. It turned out we were on the third floor, and—guess what—no elevator.

This time I carried the luggage up the narrow stairs. It felt like my arm would fall off.

“I learned my lesson,” Jenny said to me later. “No more care packages for you.”

Anecdotes #2: At the Comfort Inn

April 25, 2008

Night 1: Thursday, March 20th
Tokyo

The first night we stayed in the Comfort Inn, in Narita City, a five-minute train ride from the airport. By the time we emerged from the train station, the weather had turned nasty. It was still raining, but now a howling wind was blowing. To get to the inn, we had to go over a pedestrian overpass. So there we were, dragging our heavy suitcases up the stairs, as the wind pushed icy cold water on us and threatened to blow apart our umbrellas.

But we made it. The Comfort Inn was a typical business hotel. It had Western beds and our own private shower and bath. We got TV and a desk, instant coffee and a set of pajamas and a small toiletry set containing a razor, a brush, and a toothbrush. What fascinated Jenny most of all was a chemical put on the bathroom mirror; when the shower fogged up the room, one patch of glass remained clear.

Hedy had the single non-smoking room and Jenny and I shared a twin smoking room, which was the only option available at the time of the booking. Our room still smelled of smoke. Jenny told me to open the window. The wind made a rushing sound, like the ocean, and I looked down to see the sidewalk, nine stories below. It was an unobstructed fall. The sight made my palms sweat and my stomach a bit fluttery.

“That window is scary,” I said. “It feels like the wind will just suck you out.”

We hit the combini—the convenience store—after that. Once we had our (non-alcoholic) drinks, we all hung out in our room, the sound of the wind in the background. Jenny and I had brought snacks. I had brought souvenirs from Kanoya: “Black pork” chips, sweet potato cakes, and rose-flavored castella cakes. Jenny brought guava cookies, pumpkin cupcakes, and banana chips. For about an hour, we ate, drank, and were merry. Then jet lag began to set in. It had been a long day.

Jenny went to bed at about 9:30. I went to bed later—about 10:30 or so.

Anecdotes #1: Airport

April 25, 2008

Day 1: Thursday, March 20th
Tokyo

It was a beautiful morning. The sky was blue without a wisp of wind. Perfect weather for traveling. It was so warm, it was almost a shame to shrug my heavy coat over my T-shirt—but I figured I’d better bring that coat just in case.

I rode the bus to Kagoshima airport, listening to my ipod and watching the scenery. As we got into the mountain, there was nothing but yellow trees and leafy bamboo—a few houses here and there. I got to the airport early and wandered around until I became accustomed to my surroundings. It didn't take long.

When at last the plane came, I took a seat near the window. I could see the bay as we rose and I could see Sakurajima, our volcano, a wisp of smoke at its top. There were houses and square patches of rice paddy land.

This was not my first plane ride alone, but it was the first plane ride I had planned so completely by myself. I had bought the ticket online. I had gotten to the airport. I had made my way through check-ins, baggage checks, and gate numbers. It was a small accomplishment and caused me no particular trouble, but I was proud. Another form of transportation mastered.

When I came to Tokyo, it was raining.

But that wasn’t my first concern. Haneda airport was large and confusing. There were so many gates and people crisscrossing my path, that I immediately felt disorientated. I got my bags and checked the clock. I was running late.

It was already 2:30. Hedy’s flight came in at 4:40. And I still had to get to Narita.

There are two airports in Tokyo. Haneda is closer to the city and is used mostly for domestic flights. Narita, however, is far on the outskirts, possibly in another city. This is the airport used for international flights.

I bought a bus ticket to Narita airport. Then I stared blankly as the man loading baggage asked which colorful band I’d like attached to my suitcase. Apparently, there were three different locations at Narita that the bus stopped at: Terminal 1a, Terminal 1b, and Terminal B. I had no idea which terminal my friends would be arriving at. The man at last tied a blue band around my suitcase.

By sheer luck, he’d picked the terminal Hedy was arriving at, Terminal 2. (Inside the bus, there was a chart, which rather belatedly told me which flights went with which terminal.) Once there I had trouble finding the Arrivals gate. I asked someone and she told me the floor. Then I had trouble finding escalators. They were all over the place.

I found the floor. I found Hedy’s flight and her gate. I waited.

I should tell you now that Hedy and Jenny were not coming on the same flight. Jenny’s plane was 20 minutes later than Hedy’s and she arrived in a different terminal. The plan, hastily conceived, was that I would meet Hedy at the baggage claim, and then we’d meet Jenny at the gate. This was before we knew that Jenny and Hedy were in different terminal buildings. This was also before I rode my flight to Haneda and remembered one crucial fact: in Japan, you pick up your bags before you go out the gate. In other words, you can’t meet your party at the baggage claim.

I was monitoring Hedy’s flight and I noticed she was taking forever in customs. An hour past, but still I waited. Then suddenly, I heard my name on the speakers. I was being paged. What had happened? Had I missed Hedy?

“Do you know someone named Jenny Wong?” the woman at the desk asked me.

“Yes,” I said while thinking, How did she get in so soon?

The woman made some phone calls. “Jenny will be coming. Wait here.”

I waited, but I was impatient. Hedy should be coming out any minute. I had waited for her for so long, and I didn’t want to miss her now. I conveyed my anxiety to the woman and she paged Hedy.

At that very minute, I saw Hedy walking toward me.

It turned out she had come out of the gate late because she was taking her time at the baggage claim. It took her a few minutes to realize it was not a meeting spot, and she wasn’t sure what to do next. She must have come out the gate just as I was making my way to the information desk, because she didn’t see anyone. She was about to step out of the building and hunt Jenny down—which would have been a disaster since Jenny was on her way here. But she decided to ask information first and then she saw me.

When Jenny finally arrived, we all hugged. I was so relieved. Meeting my friends in Tokyo was the thing I had worried about the most. Now that we were together, the worst was over.

Postcard of Tokyo and Kyoto

April 25, 2008

I left for Tokyo on March 20th. A Thursday. A public holiday, by a strange fluke of the calendar. I took the bus to Kagoshima airport, about 2 hours away. I had no problems catching my plane.

Things got more confusing when I came to Tokyo. I came out at Haneda Airport, which was larger, more full of people, and generally more confusing, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was there are two airports in Tokyo. Haneda is for domestic. Narita is for International. My friends were at Narita.

I took a bus to Narita. My friends came on two separate flights, in two different areas, 20 minutes apart. We nearly missed each other, but it turned out all right. We ate dinner at the airport and my friends were impressed by my Japanese speaking ability.

We stayed at the Comfort Inn, in Narita, a suburb of Tokyo. It was a business hotel, which meant it was much like any normal hotel you’d find in America, but a little more condensed.

Shinkansen

The next day, we went by shinkansen (bullet train) to Kyoto. Jenny and Hedy learned the perils of over packing, as they were forced to drag their enormous suitcases up and down stairs, onto trains, and through stations of moving people. Once in Kyoto, we got lost trying to find our hostel. Finally, we took a cab.

We stayed at the BaKpaK Hostel. We shared our room with about twelve people, including boys. But really, the only problem I had was that we had to be quiet at night and in the mornings, so as not to wake people. Oh, and I couldn’t just dump my stuff everywhere, either.

That night we ate Ramen and explored downtown Kyoto. I might have seen a geisha.

Nara deer

On day three, we finally got to do some sightseeing. I pretty much set the agenda. First we went to the Imperial Palace Park. The actual Palace was off-limits, but we had a pleasant stroll and enjoyed the flowers. Unfortunately, Jenny lost an earring.

We went to Ryoan-ji, a temple with a famous rock garden. The rock garden was a little disappointing. It was small. We had more ramen for lunch. (I was starting to get sick of noodles at this point.) Then we went to Kinkaku-ji, the Golden Pavilion Temple. The most impressive thing about that temple was it’s ability to attract hordes of tourists, but still photograph like you were the only one there.

Big Buddha

Our last stop was Nijo-jo, a castle. It was a small castle, but I loved the architecture. On the way back, we took a jam-packed bus. I swear, no train in Tokyo was more crowded than that bus. We were tired after that so we had dinner, did a little shopping, watched a bad T.V. movie after that.

The next day was Easter Sunday. We rented bikes. We rode to Heian-jingu, a shrine with a nice garden. We also rode to Nanzen-ji, a temple with paintings of tigers leaping through bamboo inside. I had been to both places before, but liked them better the first time. We also went to a craft center and I bought two yukata (light cotton kimono) for 3000 yen each.

Swap Meet

The fifth day, we moved from the hostel to a ryokan near Kyoto station. A ryokan is traditional, Japanese-style hotel. It has tatami mats and you sleep on futons on the floor. I find it more comfortable than business hotels. The three of us shared a room. We had more privacy that way.

I was glad that we transferred hotels, even though the move took all morning. Now that we were closer to the station, we could make day trips. After lunch (donburi: meat over rice), we decided to make a short trip to Uji, a city about fifteen minutes from Kyoto, and then stop by Fushimi Inari.

Himeji

I wanted to go to Uji because I wanted to see Byodo-in, the famous Phoenix temple, which is featured on a 10-yen coin. It was a very nice old temple. We also visited the shrine, a world heritage site, and crossed some bridges. Uji was a nice little town and we liked it very much.

We bought Bento (boxed meals) at Uji and took them to Fushimi Inari. Fushimi Inari is a shrine on a mountain, famous for tunnels and tunnels of orange torii. We decided to go in the evening, when it was most creepy, and have a picnic on the mountain. Hedy was unfortunate enough to get natto sushi. Natto, fermented soybeans, is one of the nastiest dishes in Japanese cooking. We climbed to the top of the mountain. Then it got dark. Going down, Jenny and I began to get frightened, but Hedy had nerves of steel.

Osaka

The next day I got dressed up and wore my yukata. Hedy did my hair. Jenny wore a dress and Hedy a skirt. We went to Nara. We fed the deer and saw the big Buddha. Then we came back to Kyoto and went to a swap meet. We went to an onsen, a hot springs, though in this case it was more of a public bath. That’s right, a bath: you go in naked. Hedy didn’t go. Jenny and I did, because we had gone out of our way to find the place and were very footsore. Needless to say, it was a little awkward. I regretted wearing my yukata to the onsen. It was hard to put it back on and a felt a little like a tourist.

America Mura

After that, it was our castle day. We went to Himeji, which has an old, famous castle. Then we went to Osaka Castle, which was a recreation of the original. Inside the castle there were museum exhibits and I brushed up on my history. We also went to America Mura (Village), a shopping district in Osaka, which, despite it’s name, was nothing like America and not so much as a Baskin Robbins in sight.

The next day was Thursday again, March 27th. We packed our bags and went back to Tokyo, by bullet train again. We met Rihito, who had been a Japanese exchange student when we went to college at Redlands. He took us to the Tokyo Tower, which had a magnificent view. We went to dinner at TGI Fridays. I was so happy to go to an American restaurant. I ordered fajitas. I knew I missed Mexican food. I had no idea how much I’d missed sour cream. (There’s none in Japan.)

Tokyo Tower

We went back to our hostel. The Sakura Hostel was located in Asakusa, the old entertainment district in Tokyo. Our hostel was really small. There was almost no space to house our luggage and we couldn’t spread out at all. The lounge was always full of people, so we had no space to call our own.

For breakfast the next morning, we went to a conbini (a convenience store) and bought bread. We carried our food to Senso-ji, the temple in Asakusa. It became our breakfast spot. We would sit on the steps, under the sakura, and watch the strange things that happened. Once there was a TV show being filmed. Another time, some sort of festival was going on. When we finished our breakfast, we’d walk down the path, lined with stores, until we got to the subway.

Okonomiyaki

That day, we went met Yuki, another exchange student. We walked around the park and looked at the sakura, the cherry blossoms, now in full bloom and splendid. Then we walked around Harajuku. Despite the Gwen Steffani hype, it was really rather ordinary. We had all-you-can-eat, make-your-own okonomiyaki for lunch. Okonomiyaki is like a savory pancake. We did more shopping and were surprised to find that even in Tokyo, department stores close at 8:00 on a Friday night. Like in Kanoya.

The 10th day we went to Ueno, a park. I wanted to go there because the final battle of the bakumatsu had been fought there in 1868; afterwards, Japan entered its modern era. However, the presence f so many people doing hanami (literally looking at the flowers; having a picnic to enjoy the sakura) rather distracted me from the historical element. We went to a very nice museum, which gave a history of Japan through art and artifact. Then, we visited a cemetery.

Hanami

After lunch we walked down a street near the park, Ame-something. It was an old street. It was completely packed. We didn’t so much walk as ooze. That was, without a doubt, the most crowded shopping area, this obscure street.

We went to Shibuya, a more modern shopping area, and I found a whole floor of English books in a Tower Records. The fantasy section alone was the same size as the entire English self in my bookstore in Kagoshima. I was so happy. My friends just left me to browse while they did more shopping.

Yakiniku

For dinner, I treated them to yakiniku, or Japanese-style barbeque. They had fun, and so did I. It was our last evening together. Hedy was leaving the following day.

The next morning, after breakfast at Senso-ji, I took Hedy to the airport. We decided to split up, so Jenny could do more shopping. (She was starting to get frustrated about finding souvenirs.) Hedy and I had a nice chat on our train ride to the airport. Unfortunately, I had underestimated the time it would take to get there and back. I was late and kept Jenny waiting for over an hour. We did more shopping. Then we went back.

Monday, March 31st. We went back home.

This, long as it seems, is a general overview. I tried to write long in-depth ancedotes, but I ran out of steam halfway through, after about 20 pages or so. For the half I completed, see the anecdotes.