I wake up at seven, fittingly the morning is cold and harsh outside my futon. I can see my breath as the light filters in through the curtain held in place by thumbtacks. God, how I wish I could simply roll over and slip back into sleep (slip back though time). I go through the daily morning ritual of face washing, teeth brushing, dressing, and waking up Danny in a haze. My host mother has fixed the usual breakfast and asks me sweetly if I’ve packed everything. I invite her and my host father to come to the bus station to see me off with all my friends. She declines, telling me she doesn’t want to cry. She tells Danny that one of his friends should move into my room so he won’t be lonely, and we laugh. I thank them for everything and wonder if the meaning in my words gets through. Up the metal steps for the last time to finish my last minute packing, and suddenly Lucie is at my door and my three bags are in the kitchen. We all wear nervous smiles as we take the blue line streetcar down to Nagasaki Station. The city seems to rush back like a closing tunnel door through the back window of the streetcar, and my throat starts to get tight for the first time. All my friends are waiting for us in front of the huge department store across the street from the bus station. We hug and take Christmas pictures in front of the five story Christmas tree that awkwardly dominates the shopping center’s main plaza. Lunch is all to fast, and brings the inevitable even closer. IO’s roommate Yuika has to rush off to flight attendant school before lunch is over. We hug, and my throat gets a little tighter as I watch her rush off.
There is no time left. The bus will be pulling up in about fifteen minutes, and all sixteen or so of us are waiting at the station. Hands are crossed, and for once no one is laughing. IO and Lucie are the first to start crying. I wanna scoop them up, tell them everything’s going to be ok, but I stopped believing that when I woke up this morning. The world I spent three months building is crashing down around me now. My throat tightens and my eyes water, but I fight it. I’ll see them again. I have to. Danney, Xander, Jon-O, Lucie, IO, Lu Lu, Monji, Asaka, K, Anna, Chris, Laurent, and all the others, there are too many to cry in front of. But one look at Danney seals my fate, and I can’t stop it any more.
Suddenly everyone else is already on the bus, and I can’t let go. I break away and show the devil bus driver my ticket. Charlie is leaving as well, and he and I throw our luggage under the bus. Suddenly I’m hugging IO and K again. I just won’t let go, but the driver hisses, “Hurry up”. My last words are a very broken and tearful, “Great big love guys! Great big love for all of you.” God, this sucks! Back to a window seat and the final deathly silent two hour ride begins as I bite my lower lip and wave goodbye to the people who have been my family for the past three months for the last time. The night, and next morning are a blur. Suddenly I’m in Tokyo. Now I’m in a darkened airplane cabin. I take out my I-pod to drown out the sound of my knees grinding against the seat in front of me. There in seat 25 D, I listen to a mix I made for my friends back in Nagasaki. Joseph Arthur comes on and I’m fine until he says, “Cause when you showed me myself, I became someone else.” And my throat tightens as my eyes snap shut.
In the end I got home safely. Riding home with my parents I’m happy to be home, but my thoughts are still in Nagasaki. I left then in that funeral home bus station, and in the eyes of all my friends. I’m sure in time the hollow sensation of goodbye will leave, but those beautiful beautiful faces will stay with me forever. After all, we’ll meet again. Don’t know where, and I don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again – some sunny day.
To those in Japan (Thank you so much, words still can’t really describe how much our time meant. I hope we all can cross paths again be it in Japan, or any part of the world. The bonds of the heart are not so easily severed by the trails of time and distance. So long as we remember the joys of our shared adventure our ties will never break. What a long strange trip it has been. I miss you guys.)
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
No Words . . . Just Silence
I am alone, or at least I feel that way; standing at the base of a jet black marble monolith that radiates the weight of this place, and the horrors of the human race. At its base is a large black coffin with the names of countless people killed by the push of a button in a matter of months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds. I came to Nagasaki knowing that this would be the hardest part of my trip, but also the most essential. So I’m standing at the base of the Atomic Bomb Hypocenter Memorial. Here, somewhere around 500 meters above ground, the American weapon of destruction named “Fat Man” was detonated. About 74,000 people were killed by the bomb and its aftermath. It is strange that I’m now two generations later and far, far removed from the events of World War II, yet I still feel somewhat responsible for this place. The monolith isn’t the only sobering factor of this space. There is also a shattered church pillar that towers in broken glory next to the hypocenter marker, as well as a large statue of a motherly figure holding a child which represents the women and children that made up 70% of the casualties of the bombing. The heaviness bearing down on my shoulders is becoming a physical burden and my throat is dry now. Next to the shattered church there are hundreds of thousands of rainbow origami cranes strung together into bundles of hope for a peaceful future.
We walk down to the river, flowing clean and slow, that was once so full of dead bodies that the water poisoned by the radiation was dammed for days. My throat has now begun to tighten, and I can’t look my two friends I came with directly in the eyes any more. As we progress towards the Atomic Bomb museum I am relieved of the emotional intensity by more peace cranes and the flame of peace (carried from Greece to Nagasaki). However this sense of relief is only brief and upon entering the museum my feelings of shame and remorse are thrown back on my shoulders by five huge TV screens repeating images of the growing and vile mushroom cloud. I won’t describe the videos that followed within this museum, but know that they were incredibly telling, graphic, and completely necessary for me to watch. I continued through the museum looking upon the blast radius of the bomb, burned clothing of children from one of the multiple elementary schools that was destroyed, and hand bones melted into the center of glass coke bottles because of the unimaginable heat of the bomb. At times I simply stand and look to the floor. I feel dirty and ashamed not necessarily to be and American, but to be human. How is it that we are capable of doing such ungodly things to one another? The feelings that are running through my mind are a mumbled mess of confusion and shock. This is without a doubt one of the best if not the best such museum I’ve ever been to. It forces one to look upon the items of individuals rather than presenting cold hard facts. It shows me melted catholic rosaries, charred mangled reading glasses and the shadows of children burned into school house walls left standing.
After finishing, my friends and I silently get some lunch and proceed up to the ruined foundations of the Nagasaki prison; the current sight of the welcoming and hopeful Peace Park. The grounds are dotted with donated peace statues from many other countries. At the heart of the Peace Park a huge bronze man points to the sky and the threat of nuclear war, as well as to the mountains to his side representing the future and peace. It was uplifting but somehow seemed cheaper and less real than the hypocenter. Still it was beautiful and again entirely necessary.
I always thought I understood the need for peace, but now it is resoundingly clear. Nothing could seem more urgent and pressing that the pursuit of some type of nuclear disarmament in my eyes. After hearing and seeing the terror my country threw down upon the civilian populous of Nagasaki I can only pray that nothing this terrible ever happens again. Many argue that the bomb was the best choice. It did end the war, and in so doing saved many American soldiers lives. Yet somehow that explanation does not work after what I have seen, and the feelings I have felt. I just don’t think I can comprehend cruelty on this magnitude, and attempting to exhausts me. I have many happier stories to tell but it is quite late, and I’m dead tired.
But before I go, please don’t get the wrong idea. This has been one of the most powerful and moving moments of my entire stay in Japan. The feelings I describe are horrible and drove me to silent tears but if no one cries over the atrocities of the past then no one will ever work to keep the past from repeating itself. If you ever should find yourself in Nagasaki it is paramount that you go to these monuments and honor the spirits of those who lost their lives, and learn their stories.
We walk down to the river, flowing clean and slow, that was once so full of dead bodies that the water poisoned by the radiation was dammed for days. My throat has now begun to tighten, and I can’t look my two friends I came with directly in the eyes any more. As we progress towards the Atomic Bomb museum I am relieved of the emotional intensity by more peace cranes and the flame of peace (carried from Greece to Nagasaki). However this sense of relief is only brief and upon entering the museum my feelings of shame and remorse are thrown back on my shoulders by five huge TV screens repeating images of the growing and vile mushroom cloud. I won’t describe the videos that followed within this museum, but know that they were incredibly telling, graphic, and completely necessary for me to watch. I continued through the museum looking upon the blast radius of the bomb, burned clothing of children from one of the multiple elementary schools that was destroyed, and hand bones melted into the center of glass coke bottles because of the unimaginable heat of the bomb. At times I simply stand and look to the floor. I feel dirty and ashamed not necessarily to be and American, but to be human. How is it that we are capable of doing such ungodly things to one another? The feelings that are running through my mind are a mumbled mess of confusion and shock. This is without a doubt one of the best if not the best such museum I’ve ever been to. It forces one to look upon the items of individuals rather than presenting cold hard facts. It shows me melted catholic rosaries, charred mangled reading glasses and the shadows of children burned into school house walls left standing.
After finishing, my friends and I silently get some lunch and proceed up to the ruined foundations of the Nagasaki prison; the current sight of the welcoming and hopeful Peace Park. The grounds are dotted with donated peace statues from many other countries. At the heart of the Peace Park a huge bronze man points to the sky and the threat of nuclear war, as well as to the mountains to his side representing the future and peace. It was uplifting but somehow seemed cheaper and less real than the hypocenter. Still it was beautiful and again entirely necessary.
I always thought I understood the need for peace, but now it is resoundingly clear. Nothing could seem more urgent and pressing that the pursuit of some type of nuclear disarmament in my eyes. After hearing and seeing the terror my country threw down upon the civilian populous of Nagasaki I can only pray that nothing this terrible ever happens again. Many argue that the bomb was the best choice. It did end the war, and in so doing saved many American soldiers lives. Yet somehow that explanation does not work after what I have seen, and the feelings I have felt. I just don’t think I can comprehend cruelty on this magnitude, and attempting to exhausts me. I have many happier stories to tell but it is quite late, and I’m dead tired.
But before I go, please don’t get the wrong idea. This has been one of the most powerful and moving moments of my entire stay in Japan. The feelings I describe are horrible and drove me to silent tears but if no one cries over the atrocities of the past then no one will ever work to keep the past from repeating itself. If you ever should find yourself in Nagasaki it is paramount that you go to these monuments and honor the spirits of those who lost their lives, and learn their stories.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Osaka Kyoto GO!
At 9 pm on Thursday night Jon-O and I boarded the night bus to Osaka, our would-be home for the next 10 hours. It was miraculously comfortable with legroom that put most airplanes to shame. We arrived at 7am Friday and set right to work finding a place to stay. After consulting Lonely Planet we decided, with many doubts and hesitations, to stay in a capsule hotel for the night. For those who don’t know, a capsule hotel is exactly what it sounds like. You are given a capsule that has about enough space to sit up in, fitted with almost all the modern hotel requirements (TV, AC, night light, alarm clock, and radio). These spacious sleeping cells are stacked two high and in our hotel’s case they fill four floors. So with sleeping taken care of we set off to tour around Osaka (second largest city in Japan). We boarded the subway system and without any complications found our way to The Osaka Aquarium. This nicely organized and stunningly clean establishment boasts one of the world's few captive whale sharks, a huge manta ray, not to mention dozens of otherworldly denizens of the deep. The whale shark was stunningly large without a doubt, but as whale sharks go he is small. He keeps a slow meandering pace, circling his huge enclosure being continuously followed by a cloud of darting and dashing, silver and gold fish. While this is going on the elegant and admittedly more impressive manta ray is flying through the water in rollercoaster loops and cartwheels. These two giants are in an enormous central tank that spans four floors. All the other attractions sprout off from this huge tank. The most photogenic creatures where the apathetic jellyfish floating in their neon tanks without care about the bad imitation Christmas music that was creeping through the sound system. We stayed in the aquarium for about three and a half to four hours photographing and staring in awe at the creatures from a world we may never truly know.
After a nice Chinese lunch we headed across town and started towards the outside Osaka traditional farmhouse museum. This naturally sounds....... well. . . boring. I have been to many a great museum and I had my doubts about what this museum’s entertainment value would be. It blew me away. The houses are wonders of human early creation. The sun started to set and the leaves, bamboo, and houses seemed to just sing out in twelve-part harmony TAKE MY PICTURE! And pictures were taken. There were twelve traditional houses (all originals not recreations) taken from all over Japan. Being somewhat tired from our travels thus far Jon-O and I found a nice patch of grass on a hill beside a traditional Kabuki theater and ate some snacks while discussing international politics and how we missed big breakfasts. Then after thanking the museum staff we headed back to the subway system to accomplish the true purpose of the trip. For those of you that don’t know my dear friend, Andrea goes to Wooster just like me and is a major in Sociology. She has spent all semester studying at Kansai, a huge international school in Naga, Japan (somewhere inbetween Osaka and Kyoto). Her boyfriend and good friend of mine, Corey, is also studying there. These two are definitively, a joy. We decided to meet each other while in Japan, and I must say the feelings of excitement that welled up within me while spinning around in Shinsabashi station like a watch dog looking for that one familiar face in a country filled with such unfamiliar things is quite the experience. However, it pales in comparison to actually finding and vigorously hugging that loved face. I haven’t had a proper hug since my arrival in Japan, and damn does it feel good. After many hugs, how are yous, and happy smiles we dashed off to all you can eat pizza. The good company made Japan’s attempt at pizza taste closer to the real thing, and the night drifted on with many stores to tell.
The next day, after a nice night in a comfy capsule, started poorly and ended even more poorly. We were supposed to get to Kyoto and find a place for Jon-O, Andrea, Corey, and me to stay. Nowhere had any affordable openings. We liked the capsules so much we just decided to go back. So after a huge and nice lunch of Dimsum (Chinese food) the four of us headed out to see the fabled temples of Kyoto. Unfortunately rain and hordes of tourists followed, as did getting lost and high winds. We eventually found a nice small temple dedicated to famous Japanese Magicians and a small neighborhood temple. Then the rain picked up a little and we took shelter in a itty-bitty coffee shop where I drank hot cocoa and exchanged more stories. Home to Osaka, capsule pass out, up for breakfast (rice, meat, and raw egg) and back to Kyoto. Sunday was incredibly successful. We started the day off with a small shrine that was connected to a mountain top monkey park! After a twenty-minute hike up a very beautiful red and orange themed forest walk we reached the top. Here hoards of monkeys ran amongst the humans clearly showing their control of the situation. There were park hands with brooms that walked around poking at the more aggressive primates, but it seemed to do little more than agitate them more. Though intimidating, these creatures were remarkably cute, and the views of Kyoto were incredible.
Quick lunch and a riverside walk later we found ourselves in a bamboo forest with light filtering through the tops of the trees like tiny spotlights. Lonely Planet suggested getting out of Kyoto to the more rural communities and temples so we went to a beautiful neighborhood and found a huge wonderful temple. In the height of the leaf season, I walked amongst trees ablaze with red and yellow and thought of the spirits that this temple was surly meant to pay homage to. These temples are all across Japan, but this little gem hidden away in Northern Kyoto drove their purpose home. Then after a bit more neighborhood wandering the four of us boarded the subway for a final time. We said our goodbyes all too quickly on a train, and I must say it hurt as bad as it always does. When you leave the company of those you are most comfortable with it feels like a part of you is missing. So with a heavy heart I gave Andrea and Corey each a quick hug that betrayed exactly how little I liked seeing them go, and watched them quickly disappear from sight. (A note to them if and when they read this. THANK YOU BOTH SOOOOO MUCH! What memories we created, and what sights we’ve seen. I’m so glad I got to share them with you. Thank you, thank you.) Jon-O and I then jumped back onto the night bus and rode back to Nagasaki for Monday classes, smelling only slightly stinky from all night travel. I also want to take just a moment to thank Jon-O for being my travel buddy, good friend, British travel connection, fellow bar philosopher and Japanese interpreter. I wish my friends back home could meet him. He’s 6 feet 5 inches of great “proper fun”.
This whole trip was remarkable, and showed me that you’ll never ever see it all. Kyoto has so SO much more to offer than I got to see. I have a sneaking suspicion that I’ll be saying that about Japan in two weeks when I bid it farewell. Until next time.
After a nice Chinese lunch we headed across town and started towards the outside Osaka traditional farmhouse museum. This naturally sounds....... well. . . boring. I have been to many a great museum and I had my doubts about what this museum’s entertainment value would be. It blew me away. The houses are wonders of human early creation. The sun started to set and the leaves, bamboo, and houses seemed to just sing out in twelve-part harmony TAKE MY PICTURE! And pictures were taken. There were twelve traditional houses (all originals not recreations) taken from all over Japan. Being somewhat tired from our travels thus far Jon-O and I found a nice patch of grass on a hill beside a traditional Kabuki theater and ate some snacks while discussing international politics and how we missed big breakfasts. Then after thanking the museum staff we headed back to the subway system to accomplish the true purpose of the trip. For those of you that don’t know my dear friend, Andrea goes to Wooster just like me and is a major in Sociology. She has spent all semester studying at Kansai, a huge international school in Naga, Japan (somewhere inbetween Osaka and Kyoto). Her boyfriend and good friend of mine, Corey, is also studying there. These two are definitively, a joy. We decided to meet each other while in Japan, and I must say the feelings of excitement that welled up within me while spinning around in Shinsabashi station like a watch dog looking for that one familiar face in a country filled with such unfamiliar things is quite the experience. However, it pales in comparison to actually finding and vigorously hugging that loved face. I haven’t had a proper hug since my arrival in Japan, and damn does it feel good. After many hugs, how are yous, and happy smiles we dashed off to all you can eat pizza. The good company made Japan’s attempt at pizza taste closer to the real thing, and the night drifted on with many stores to tell.
The next day, after a nice night in a comfy capsule, started poorly and ended even more poorly. We were supposed to get to Kyoto and find a place for Jon-O, Andrea, Corey, and me to stay. Nowhere had any affordable openings. We liked the capsules so much we just decided to go back. So after a huge and nice lunch of Dimsum (Chinese food) the four of us headed out to see the fabled temples of Kyoto. Unfortunately rain and hordes of tourists followed, as did getting lost and high winds. We eventually found a nice small temple dedicated to famous Japanese Magicians and a small neighborhood temple. Then the rain picked up a little and we took shelter in a itty-bitty coffee shop where I drank hot cocoa and exchanged more stories. Home to Osaka, capsule pass out, up for breakfast (rice, meat, and raw egg) and back to Kyoto. Sunday was incredibly successful. We started the day off with a small shrine that was connected to a mountain top monkey park! After a twenty-minute hike up a very beautiful red and orange themed forest walk we reached the top. Here hoards of monkeys ran amongst the humans clearly showing their control of the situation. There were park hands with brooms that walked around poking at the more aggressive primates, but it seemed to do little more than agitate them more. Though intimidating, these creatures were remarkably cute, and the views of Kyoto were incredible.
Quick lunch and a riverside walk later we found ourselves in a bamboo forest with light filtering through the tops of the trees like tiny spotlights. Lonely Planet suggested getting out of Kyoto to the more rural communities and temples so we went to a beautiful neighborhood and found a huge wonderful temple. In the height of the leaf season, I walked amongst trees ablaze with red and yellow and thought of the spirits that this temple was surly meant to pay homage to. These temples are all across Japan, but this little gem hidden away in Northern Kyoto drove their purpose home. Then after a bit more neighborhood wandering the four of us boarded the subway for a final time. We said our goodbyes all too quickly on a train, and I must say it hurt as bad as it always does. When you leave the company of those you are most comfortable with it feels like a part of you is missing. So with a heavy heart I gave Andrea and Corey each a quick hug that betrayed exactly how little I liked seeing them go, and watched them quickly disappear from sight. (A note to them if and when they read this. THANK YOU BOTH SOOOOO MUCH! What memories we created, and what sights we’ve seen. I’m so glad I got to share them with you. Thank you, thank you.) Jon-O and I then jumped back onto the night bus and rode back to Nagasaki for Monday classes, smelling only slightly stinky from all night travel. I also want to take just a moment to thank Jon-O for being my travel buddy, good friend, British travel connection, fellow bar philosopher and Japanese interpreter. I wish my friends back home could meet him. He’s 6 feet 5 inches of great “proper fun”.
This whole trip was remarkable, and showed me that you’ll never ever see it all. Kyoto has so SO much more to offer than I got to see. I have a sneaking suspicion that I’ll be saying that about Japan in two weeks when I bid it farewell. Until next time.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Things To Be Thankful For
It is three minutes to sunset on the Saturday after the American holiday of Thanksgiving. I am standing atop the tallest mountain in Nagasaki, looking from the roof of an outlook center down onto the mini metropolis I have come to love over the past eight and a half weeks. I’ve seen and felt many great things, yet there is still so much to be done. Every day I find myself tallying up the things yet unseen that must be seen. I have yet to see Nagasaki’s most important (purely my opinion) attraction, the Peace Park and Atomic Bomb Museum. I find that my mind is crowded with a sense of urgency. I cling to the feelings of surprise that come when a Japanese taxi driver impresses me with his level of English comprehension and I eat up every sentence of English broken by hand gestures, Japanese, and laughter that comes from my friend’s mouths. I have a mere four weeks left now and it seems like so little. This weekend I watched the neon lights of Nagasaki ripple through the valley like wind through tall grass as night fell, and I saw friends smile as the red, setting sun was lost behind mist and clouds.
On a lighter note I also saw many many penguins. K took 20 of the exchange students to the Nagasaki Penguin Aquarium. It was small and understaffed but the cute awkwardness of penguins overcomes feelings of discontent, and reflective aquarium glass makes for interesting picture taking. After watching these little guys for some time my friends and I all piled into three rental cars and strapped in for one of the scariest rides of our lives as EO drove us to Mount Enasa for sunset watching. No offense to EO but by the gods in heaven and Valhalla Japanese traffic is 10 times scarier than any driving I have ever seen in the States. Narrow roads and seemingly no speed limits equate to a mad cap race around bustle that keeps the passengers and drivers on their toes at all times. I’m sure it really is much less dangerous than I imagine it, but at the time, it felt like every red light was a gift from some divine force that allowed me to loosen my grip on the seat.
This weekend was quiet, but much needed. I have purchased my tickets for an overnight bus trip to Osaka to meet up with my dear friend Andrea. I will be gone this coming Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I’m also planning to visit Kyoto, which is the ancient capital city of Japan. Through World War II it was one of the few cities that sustained little damage so all of the temples and shrines are old as can be. I look forward to writing about that experience.
All in all this weekend was a much needed rest before the storm of my last few weeks. I can hardly imagine coming home on essentially the doorstep of Christmas morning. Strange to imagine that I will have to re-adjust myself to American living. Love to all those I couldn’t call and wish happy Thanksgiving. I miss you all, and wish I could share more. . . but some would argue that my silence says it all.
Until next time.
On a lighter note I also saw many many penguins. K took 20 of the exchange students to the Nagasaki Penguin Aquarium. It was small and understaffed but the cute awkwardness of penguins overcomes feelings of discontent, and reflective aquarium glass makes for interesting picture taking. After watching these little guys for some time my friends and I all piled into three rental cars and strapped in for one of the scariest rides of our lives as EO drove us to Mount Enasa for sunset watching. No offense to EO but by the gods in heaven and Valhalla Japanese traffic is 10 times scarier than any driving I have ever seen in the States. Narrow roads and seemingly no speed limits equate to a mad cap race around bustle that keeps the passengers and drivers on their toes at all times. I’m sure it really is much less dangerous than I imagine it, but at the time, it felt like every red light was a gift from some divine force that allowed me to loosen my grip on the seat.
This weekend was quiet, but much needed. I have purchased my tickets for an overnight bus trip to Osaka to meet up with my dear friend Andrea. I will be gone this coming Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I’m also planning to visit Kyoto, which is the ancient capital city of Japan. Through World War II it was one of the few cities that sustained little damage so all of the temples and shrines are old as can be. I look forward to writing about that experience.
All in all this weekend was a much needed rest before the storm of my last few weeks. I can hardly imagine coming home on essentially the doorstep of Christmas morning. Strange to imagine that I will have to re-adjust myself to American living. Love to all those I couldn’t call and wish happy Thanksgiving. I miss you all, and wish I could share more. . . but some would argue that my silence says it all.
Until next time.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Enter Thunder-dome!
In a word Sumo is heavy. Laugh all you want. I’m not just talking about the girth of the individuals that practice this ancient sport. When I say it is heavy I mean, HEAVY: soaked, steeped, deep, multi-layered . . . I’m talking about Grateful Dead “Dark Star” heavy. Or, even maybe heavy like Freud’s philosophies. Anyway, Sumo is virtually built from the ground up in Shinto and traditional Japanese beliefs. The ring may only be made from special mud taken from a traditional spiritual center of a river that runs through Tokyo which is where the Sumo world’s epicenter is located. Everything is meticulously planned, down to the color of the floor cushions the viewers sit on. The indoor Sumo arena even has an artificially constructed period {Yayoi 300a.d.) hut roof suspended from the ceiling.
A Sumo tournament can only happen on the odd months of the year and lasts for a week, as I understand it. Each of the virtually thousands of would be Sumo stars wrestles once a day during this week. Their ranking is determined by the number of winning tournaments the have. The highest rank is currently held by two Mongolians who are seemingly unbeatable.
But enough of the specifics. . . plainly Sumo is a great time! It is tradition to bring a nice bento box filled with sushi and other tasteful treats and a nice 6 pack of your favorite beer or bottle of sake and spend the whole day at the Sumo match eating, drinking, and talking with friends. It was really great though because when you walk to the snack bar you actually walk though the Sumo’s waiting room, and these were some of the most intimidating men I’ve ever seen. Anyone who thinks they are simply giant fat slobs is sorely mistaken. These men are so large and muscular they make me feel tiny. Their flexibility is amazing as well. Just for fun try and squat as low as possible then lift your left leg, keeping it straight, to a parallel line with your shoulders, then repeat with the other leg. So after walking amongst these giants I proceeded to watch them battle it out for most of the afternoon. Their one shot is incredibly intense. If any part of their body aside from the bottoms of their feet touches the ring it is over they’ve lost. Strangely, I don’t think I’ve been as pumped up by a sporting event as I was when I saw my first Sumo flip. One man simply picked his opponent up and spun him over on his back. It was ridiculous. I’ve taken some pictures, but the lighting was terrible and they hardly seem to do the athleticism or impressiveness of them any justice. What fun! I’m finally done with the two huge projects that were due last week and am starting on the other projects I have so hopefully I’ll have a little more time to write. Love to all my friends and home.
Until next time!
A Sumo tournament can only happen on the odd months of the year and lasts for a week, as I understand it. Each of the virtually thousands of would be Sumo stars wrestles once a day during this week. Their ranking is determined by the number of winning tournaments the have. The highest rank is currently held by two Mongolians who are seemingly unbeatable.
But enough of the specifics. . . plainly Sumo is a great time! It is tradition to bring a nice bento box filled with sushi and other tasteful treats and a nice 6 pack of your favorite beer or bottle of sake and spend the whole day at the Sumo match eating, drinking, and talking with friends. It was really great though because when you walk to the snack bar you actually walk though the Sumo’s waiting room, and these were some of the most intimidating men I’ve ever seen. Anyone who thinks they are simply giant fat slobs is sorely mistaken. These men are so large and muscular they make me feel tiny. Their flexibility is amazing as well. Just for fun try and squat as low as possible then lift your left leg, keeping it straight, to a parallel line with your shoulders, then repeat with the other leg. So after walking amongst these giants I proceeded to watch them battle it out for most of the afternoon. Their one shot is incredibly intense. If any part of their body aside from the bottoms of their feet touches the ring it is over they’ve lost. Strangely, I don’t think I’ve been as pumped up by a sporting event as I was when I saw my first Sumo flip. One man simply picked his opponent up and spun him over on his back. It was ridiculous. I’ve taken some pictures, but the lighting was terrible and they hardly seem to do the athleticism or impressiveness of them any justice. What fun! I’m finally done with the two huge projects that were due last week and am starting on the other projects I have so hopefully I’ll have a little more time to write. Love to all my friends and home.
Until next time!
Monday, November 12, 2007
God and the Golden Field
I’m sore and cold and my stomach may never be the same again, and I’ve just had probably the single most empowering and spiritual experience of my life. Just 24 hours ago I finished backpacking in Northern Kyushu. Mark T., Johnny (his son), Danny M. (older friend of Mark T.), Danny (my roommate), John-O, and myself decided to climb the second tallest mountain in Kyushu for fun. It was a two hour drive from Nagasaki to the base of the hiking trail. After donning our packs we headed off into a field of wheat-like 5 foot tall golden grass. These golden fields were accented by crisp blue skies and ominously tall orange brown mountains in the distance. We hiked a good hour and a half of hard up hill climbing until the mountain finally leveled off. Then, in a very Land Before Time moment, we crested the hill and looked down on a great valley of rippling golden grass, with a dark blue river cutting through it, and mountains steaming with volcanic activity on all sides. Add a quick forty minute hike down the hillside and with rubber legs we set up camp. This was easily the most spectacular place I’ve ever spent a night! The sounds of rushing water and wind rushing through grass made campfire chili that much better as we settled in for the night. As soon as it got dark it dropped to freezing and all the dew from the day froze creating a cold hard shell over everything. Luckily we had harvested a small forest worth of firewood to get us through a night of stories. The next morning came all too soon as we got up at 9 and ate a rushed breakfast. This was the big trek up the second tallest mountain in all of Kyushu. It was hard, but we didn’t have the packs this time so it went slightly quicker. After about three hours we reached the peak and oh what a glorious view it was. Clouds whipped around me and a frozen breeze chilled me to the bone, but I loved every second of it! At one point I mentally revisited my childhood fear of heights after looking down over a very steep drop off. So I crouched down between two rocks and watched the blasts of wind whip about through the ice encrusted azalea bushes that bloom pink in the spring. No fear, no remorse, just a sense of peace with the world and sheer wonder at the fact that I was having an experience like this. My sleep pattern needless to say has been greatly thrown off yet again and I’m drop dead tired. I’ve posted half of my photos from this trip and the days that led up to it. On flickr you’ll see some pictures of a family with a little girl dressed as a cat. They own a bar that loves Americans and serves the best fried chicken stomachs in all of Nagasaki. The man is hysterical, the woman is beautiful and 6 months pregnant and the little girl is cute enough to make your eyes explode! I’ve only been to the bar twice but they have come up and eaten lunch with me at the school many many times. There are also some pictures of my friends Charlie, EO, and K. Enjoy. I’ll put the other 50 up when I catch up on sleep. The weekend was such a joy! This trip is such a joy, and words will never do it justice. . . how can they.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
do work!
Well, where to start. I’ll start with an apology for not having written sooner, but I’ve been totally exhausted. Last weekend was the university’s big student festival. During this festival students make international food booths and sell food for two days in the hopes of making a profit. This goes on as all the school clubs perform at a center stage that the food booths encircle. I made the ever American cheeseburger. It turned out wonderfully and we were completely sold out of burgers by 2:00 on the second day. It was fun and I got to know some of the other Jasin students a lot better however the festival days started early and ended late so sleep and relaxation did not happen. This week is also a big week in terms of my actual classes because I have several major projects due all at the same time so forgive me if this seems brief. I’m very very excited because this weekend I’ve been invited to go camping with Mark T., his son, John-O, and Danny in the middle of Kyushu’s deciduous forest. It also just so happens to be the peak of the leaf-changing season so it should be beautiful. I’ll have more later after things settle down a little.
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