Tohoku Trippin

Time is flying.

It was just sakura season and now it’s already getting humid. My days of wearing t-shirts are becoming limited. My time as a butterfly is also coming to a close as summer is practically breathing down my neck.

I guess I’m going to have to buy an air conditioning unit sooner than I thought. For a while I was thinking “Nah, I will just make do with a good dehumidifier and a fan”, proof that sometimes I have noble intentions. Stupid, but noble.

Switching gears….

Before coming back to Japan I knew I wanted to travel, this time domestically. I want to eventually visit each of the 47 prefectures and thus far I am at 29, although my rules are a bit lenient. My only stipulation is that I must be conscious and be physically present in the prefecture- so that means I count train trips. Ideally I would stop and explore but some places are just….boring.

Last weekend I escaped from the Kanto area and went up north. It was my first trek to Tohoku and it was done mostly as a test against myself. I went to Aomori, the northernmost prefecture of Honshuu, a place known for apples and a ridiculously country bumpkin dialect. So the main part of the trip was to gauge my Japanese skills.

I also went alone, so the secondary part was a lesson in independence.

I took a night bus up to Hirosaki, and then hopped on another bus up to Mt. Iwaki nearby. There are apple orchards everywhere up there! Apparently Hirosaki is the apple growing capital of Japan. And despite being late April, there was still packed snow on the ground.

Stratovolcano Mt. Iwaki!

The bus driver told me it was impossible to walk from Iwaki Shrine to the hot spring resort I wanted to go to, but I guess that only holds true if you are incapable of walking 20 minutes up a moderately steep hill. There was no traffic and the roads were big enough to accommodate me on the side.

I love hot springs! After 10 hours on the bus, soaking in the water for a few hours was perfectly acceptable! When I was sufficiently wrinkly and relaxed I had a delicious soba noodle lunch, garnished with local mountain vegetables!

Fresh apple juice, soba and hand rolled sushi!

The evening turned out to be entertaining. It started like this:

I was leaving the inn to go forage for food when the proprietor stopped me and mentioned that if I went to the bar next door I would receive a free drink as a paying guest. So I thought, why not? And headed to the bar.

First impressions of the bar: Everything is painted black. The bartender is a lady in her 50s, very professionally dressed. There is a lone customer, a man, sitting on the stool next to me. Oh, and the walls are decorated with framed pornographic images. Not vintage or antique or pin-up stills, no, I’m talking about contemporary “Shaved and splayed” ladies.

I ordered an apple juice and contemplated whether or not I would end up being sold into the sex trade.

As it turns out, the man at the bar was really cool and had actually studied abroad in San Diego many moons ago. We got to chatting and eventually he mentioned grabbing dinner. I had a little internal conflict, and then decided to go because I hadn’t gotten a creepy vibe at all from this man and he wasn’t going to be driving anyway. We ended up walking down the block to a sushi place and having a good time.

Except I forgot to inform my friend that I was doing ok in the Porn Bar, so when I returned to the inn I had a few frantic texts. It was all laughed over in the end though.

Hirosaki Castle

A warrior on a Neputa float

The next day I meandered around the castle grounds and sighed wistfully at the sakura trees that still weren’t blooming. They were full of buds but the weather is cooler up north so they were late blooming this year. Oh well, I may go back there with Kristi yet!

There was also a little museum dedicated to the local summer festival called the Neputa Matsuri. During the summer there are huge lantern floats that are carried through the town. The artwork is fabulous and I would love to have the chance to see it in person! Apparently it is one of the top 4 festivals in Japan.




I completed my little journey with a shinkansen ride back to Saitama. All’s well that ends well! I discovered just how capable I am can function in Japanese all by myself!

Things That Are Weirder

Without further pomp and ceremony, here is Things That Are Weird, Part 2!

8. Train etiquette= it’s cool to sleep on someone but talking is frowned upon? And so long as we’re squished in like sardines, make sure you don’t look at anyone. That would be embarrassing. Just close your eyes and try not to jam your groin into my pelvis as we lurch around. Thanks.
On the plus side, if you get puked on by a publicly intoxicated businessman I hear you can shame them into giving you a nice chunk of change to pay for the sweater they ruined!

9. How is it that the nation that brought you pressure controlled washlets, heated toilet seats and the glorious o-hime (a nice little flushing noise to cover up whatever ungodly sounds you are producing) refuses to get rid of the foul squatty potty in most public places (I’m glaring at 2 of my schools now- not a porcelain seat to be found in the entire building)? Jean hems, beware! You might get soaked in the pee lining the bowl!

10. What do you mean I can’t pull money out from the ATM at 10 pm? What, you mean my bank that’s 20 miles away can’t be inconvenienced? Last I checked everything was run by computers…Am I interrupting their updates and disk cleanup?

11. Blowing noses in public is gross, I agree. But you know what else is gross? That there’s a lineup of male teachers after lunch waiting to gargle, hack and spit into the sink. No one else seems to bat an eye, while my English coworker and I are covered in goosebumps and trying not to let our gag reflexes get the best of us by spewing all over our desks. One of my coworkers asked us if we do this Stateside after seeing me looking rather pale, and when I responded he looked slightly horrified, "Oh no! You must think we are so rude!" The ethnocentric part of me nodded, but the part that wants to be culturally sensitive managed a weak smile and vague shrug of the shoulders. It's the sound that gets me moreso than the actual act.

12. It’s 7:30 Monday morning, the height of the rush hour for the trains. You bustle to the station and realize the trains are stopped. According to the scrolling text screen, there has been a “human accident” (I.e. A suicide) 2 stops ahead. Do you:

a.)    Stare in mute shock and have a crummy rest of the day  b.) Shake your head in disbelief and sorrow c.) Stomp your foot because now you’re going to be late-Damn it- and that idiot couldn’t kill himself in a way that didn’t inconvenience thousands of other people who were just trying to get to work?!

Sadly, the answer is going to most commonly be C. Suicide via train happens so regularly that the general public sees it as an inconvenience rather than the final, desperate attempt for relief from a struggling soul. I guess it doesn’t help that the train companies will often sue the departed’s family for lost revenue during the time it takes to clean up and restart the train lines. 

13. Cover those shoulders up, you filthy scarlet woman, you! How dare you show them off, have you no shame? All boney and freckly, the men are simply going to go wild with lust! Any decent woman would wear shorts so short their asscheeks are peeking out from the hem, mind you. And don’t forget the accessory to pull it all together- thigh high black stockings! Not. Suggestive. At all. Get rid of that fitted coat too, ya slut, and put on this burlap bag inspired tunic- it’ll hide those disgusting curves!

Things That Are Weird

Living in Japan is weird. Way weird. Some days are weirder than others, while some days it's like I just stepped around the corner and entered the Little Tokyo of San Diego. Other times it's like I just stepped around the corner and entered the Little Saigon masquerading as Little Manila masquerading as an electronic center masquerading as Little Tokyo.

I have quite an extensive list of things that are weird/make me scratch my head/defy common sense and logic, but I'll ease you in slowly with a few.

Without further ado, and in no particular order, I give  you: Things that are weird!

1.      If banks close at 3pm during the week and aren’t open at all on the weekends, how is the common man supposed to accomplish anything? Also, why the heck do I have to sign up for internet banking?! ‘Merica:+1, Japan: 0

2.        For a country that likes to play temperature extremes ping pong, why aren’t houses better insulated (I can hear my neighbor snoring….)? Single pane windows (drafts/noise/temperature leeching) and single drywall sheets are all the rage. C’mon Japan! I’ve stayed decent-to-swanky hotel rooms here and I’ve not heard a peep from other rooms. The ability is there, so put it to practice!

3.       For a country that is prone to mildew EVERYWHERE why are things built in such a way as to practically invite mildew in? I’m talking about weird lips on toilet bowls and strange raised drains with disgusting,  half inch-to-an-inch- moats around them. And why in the name of the Jolly Buddha do most bathrooms not have even a tiny, Japan-sized-friendly window? Methinks the mildew problem would be a lot easier to treat if, you know, you had proper ventilation in the room that needs it the most….

4.       For a country that is all about rigidly separating trash and “going green” with energy cuts, why is every item from produce to snacks to everyday items wrapped both individually and in an excessive amount of plastic wrap and Styrofoam? I am practically swimming in plastic and recyclables every week!

5.        Why are fruits wrapped in Styrofoam and plastic wrap? You can’t figure out if it’s ripe or not! On top of that, produce here is so ridiculously expensive. I forgot about that. My body sure isn’t going to forget the gout and scurvy I come down with.

6.        Sunscreen is sold in tiny, 3 ounce travel bottles for $10. Wait, isn’t this the land of trying to achieve pearly white skin? Where women wear visors, carry umbrellas for the sun, and wear opera length gloves?

7.        Embarrassment bags? So if I buy something scandalous, even if it’s just a necessary monthly lady product, the cashier will put it in a black or non-see through bag. Awesome. Now everyone knows I bought something whose true identity might make me flustered. If it was just put into a regular shopping bag, the dude on the train wouldn’t be peering into my groceries trying to figure out what the hell I just bought to compliment the shaving cream, carrots and hot sauce I'm carrying.

Painting flowers on laughing soil

My mom and my younger brother recently came to Japan on a flying visit. They were here for a week and it was absolutely wonderful to see them. It was fun getting to show them around my world, but I’ve only really just recovered from a month long cold (coupled with a few weeks of intense stress from my personal life that I don’t want to go into detail about just yet), so I was exhausted.

It's not a Japanese experience unless you make weird faces!

My lil brother is not so little anymore! But we have a mutual love of boba!

 They don’t speak a word of Japanese, so it was interesting coming home from work to hear about how they managed to navigate around. All in all though, it seemed like they had a good time!

In fact, they arrived just in time for one of the most beautiful acts of spring revival I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing (twice now): The blooming of the sakura trees.

The Japanese celebrate this fleeting beauty, this transition, blah blah blah, by having what are known as “Hanami” parties. The kanji for “hanami” is a combination of the characters of “flower” and “to see”, so it’s roughly translated as “Flower Viewing”.

Honestly, I hate hanami.

Wait, before you kick me out of the country or bite my head off Mortal Kombat style, let me explain. I halfway take it back. I don’t hate the act of going outside, relaxing, marveling at the change of seasons and looking at the flowers, I hate the “parties” associated with it. Traditional “hanami” entails hordes of people descending on parks and riverwalks, laying garish blue tarps all over, getting mad drunk and leaving behind a mess of cans and echoes of unruly noise.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is ugly hanami

 Call me crotchety, but that’s not beautiful at all. It’s irritating. It’s not necessarily the crowds, because I don’t mind them at the beach whatsoever. The atmosphere of the seaside is much more conducive to that sort of boisterous energy.

I think I get frustrated because I have I very idealized and romanticized notion of hanami. To me, it should be like sitting outside and watching the arrival of a summer storm. I enjoy that stillness, that reflective period. Sakura flowers exude quiet beauty and grace. They are small, they aren’t fragrant, and when they die it’s like the streets are swept with soft pink snow. They glide into full bloom and then drift away.

Luckily, in the wanderings I made with my family across Tokyo, I believe I’ve found my new favorite place to go and take in the sakura. In the middle of Roppongi- that sleazy den of foreigners scouring the clubs for hot Japanese chicks – is a sprawling cemetery. There are some notable graves there, but the only one that is coming to mind at the moment is the loyal dog Hachiko.

Because it’s a cemetery, most folks don’t bother going in because of ghosts and ghoulies, but the place is filled with sakura trees. I was able to take some great photos, enjoy the shade and meander around in near perfect serenity. This will be my hanami spot from now on!

"They are all perfect"

Serenity and sakura.

It makes your nails sparkle like diamond in the sky!

I am not a girly girl.

Repeat. I am not a girly girl.

I have a limited shoe collection, I hardly ever know what to do with my hair, and I can’t apply makeup to save my life.

I have been peed on (and worse), stepped in Godknowswhichendtheycameout animal body fluids, slipped and cleaned countless horse corrals, took a horse kick to the back of the leg like a champ, fallen into manure piles and brushed myself off, shoved my way through intense crowds at concerts, scraped mummified rodent remains from under appliances, repaired roofing, and hauled and stacked hay bales. And then there was the rather unsavory aspect of working for a veterinarian and being the person delegated to do the bagging and logging of departed pets.

I even hang out with goats in my spare time!

Repeat. I am NOT a girly girl.

But I will be damned if there isn’t something about this country that…changes me. And half the time I’m not even certain I like the changes. I find myself waking from a daze after shopping to discover that my purchases have rosette patterns, smiling cartoon animal faces, lace and are the most hideous shade of bubblegum pink the world has ever seen.

I sometimes forget that my favorite color is green and not pink.

I partially blame this cute, pink material barrage on the fact that Japan is obsessed with youth. Not youth in the Western sense, where a we want women to be fully developed and young, but actually the reverse. In Japan, of the end of childhood, the tween age, is hyper fetishized to the point that women in their mid 30s are still striving to be called “cute” (in a childish sense), clutching teddy bears, pouting, and having an assortment of Hello Kitty accessories.

This is a strange land.

I’m rambling, but the point I wanted to make is this: even though I am not a girly girl, I still went out and got my nails done recently. And they are adorable.

I have always wanted them ever since my friend Lena had hers done the year we studied abroad. At the time, I poor as hell and surviving off of 100 yen groceries so there was no way I could afford them.

Not the case now! Long live my gel sparkly!