Fly Over Country

The damp crush of August has once again hit the island nation of Japan, and with it the Obon holiday (1). In the Japanese tradition, Obon is a time first for honoring the memory of dead relatives and second for getting the hell out of Japan, which, with Fahrenheit temperatures and humidity alike peaking just shy of the century mark on a daily basis, feels very much like a Turkish bathhouse this time of year. Just as they do for the Golden Week holiday (2), many schools and businesses close up shop for a week, which makes sense in all kinds of ways, not the least of which being the stratospheric (and rising…) cost of maintaining an indoor temperature conducive to human life between the hours of nine and five. All of which means that travel agencies are once again mobbed, that flights are once again booked solid, and that airline tickets are once again pound-of-flesh expensive.

Yikes.

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We got back to Nan Wan about four-thirty. After the day’s odyssey, we were all a little beat, so we parked the motoche, loaded up on snacks and drinks, and retired to our room, where we flicked on the TV and watched a couple of old cartoons starring Popeye, who is apparently a local favorite in Taiwan and can be seen all over the place. By the time we’d recharged our batteries it was getting on toward evening and there were things to see. Taiwan is known for its night markets, and we’d decided to ride into nearby Kenting Town for dinner and just walk around for a bit.

We were not alone.

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April 29, 2008: My flight took off from Kansai International (KIX) at 1:15 PM. Per SOP regarding international flights, the departure time sounded convenient until you started working backwards. 1:15 PM minus two hours for international check-in was 11:15 AM. The last bus from Himeji Station that would get me to KIX in time arrived at 10:45. That bus left Himeji at 8:20. My mamachari was stolen (again!), and it takes 20 minutes to get to the station on foot. Factor in 15 minutes of leeway, and I have to leave the house at 7:45. So I could shower and breakfast properly (it’s just inconsiderate to stink in coach, and have you tasted airline food?) my alarm was ringing at 7:00 AM so I could catch an afternoon flight.

At the bus station. A very bad place to get in the wrong line. (more…)

Back in February, when the ginko trees were leafless and I still lived in Yotsukaido, my loyal compatriots and I started talking about the Golden Week holiday. We’d all just gone home for Christmas and now we wanted to see a bit more of Asia. It began (as things often do) with a few offhand remarks over beers and slowly snowballed and before long, a destination was decided on. We’d outfox the touristy hordes who flock to Thailand and Okinawa this time of year, and instead fly somewhere cheap and warm, a tropical paradise off the coast of mainland China, one which the Portuguese endorsed way back in 1544 with the nomicker Ilsa Formosa, which means “beautiful island,” and how can you go wrong with that?

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Check it:

All across Japan

sakura explode in pink

welcoming spring.

Matsuo Basho, Edo Period Japanese poet and author of hiaki renga, ain’t got shit on me.

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About a month ago, I wrote a post about a Friday night train ride to Chiba City, and the unwelcome news I received from the management of American Language School (see “Shoganai…”). As you may recall, I was given a choice between Narita (which is right up the JR line from Yotsukaido), Tsurugashima (in Saitama prefecture, an hour north of Tokyo), and Himeji (way out west in the Kansai region). I chose this:

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For those of you who spent fourth period smoking cigarettes and drinking Dr. Pepper behind the auxiliary gym instead of going to geography class, here’s a brief lesson in the topography of Japan:

Now here in Kanto, we enjoy relatively mild winters thanks to the Kuroshio Current, which brings warm air and ocean water up from tropical regions of the Pacific Ocean. On the west coast, this is not the case. The Sea of Japan is very cold this time of year, and the icy winds batter what few fringes of human civilization cling to a thin strip of habitable earth. So even as I shiver each morning on my way to the shower, I tell myself: at least I don’t live over the mountains. (more…)

Squeak squeak!

Happy Year of the Rat! Sometime in early February, the lunar new year rolls around, and the Chinese hold a celebration that lasts for 15 days. Since Yokohama has the largest Chinatown in Japan, I thought it might be worth a day trip.

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Author’s Note: “shoganai” is a Japanese idiom with no real equivalent in English. A close approximation would be something like “it can’t be avoided,” or “it must be done,” or “there’s no sense in complaining about it.” But anyway.

Buddhist gods have a funny sense of humor (the tautology is incidental). Two weeks ago, I went to the Shinsho-ji temple in Narita and prayed for everything in my life to stay exactly as it was. For the first time since ever, I felt like my life was on a positive course for the long-term, and I was deriving enough pleasure in the short-term to keep me satisfied until the long-term got here. So on that gray, snow-dusted Friday morning, when I tossed two silver hyaku en into the box and sucked a hearty lung-full of incense and bowed my head and prayed, all I asked for was: no curve balls. (more…)

It’s January in Japan, and that means two things: cold weather and sumo wrestling. Since returning to Chiba earlier this month, I’ve gotten my fill of the former, which can be really obnoxious in a country that, for all its economic success, doesn’t indulge in such western contrivances as central heating and insulation. I can see my breath in my living room most nights, and my heater is damned expensive to run, meaning that I can go broke or freeze. Fortunately, it is occasionally pretty:

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