Every year the students have Sports Day, a much-anticipated event where the students all do what Americans would think are very strange "sports" in order to show off their athleticism and discipline. Aside from the standard running relays, there are some very amusing games, including "kibasen" where the students pretend they are samurai on horses and "kumi taiso," where the boys form really tall human pyramids (and apparently many students break their arms doing this... haven't seen it yet at my school, though). It was fun to watch and I can't wait to see the real deal this Saturday! In the mean time, check out the "videos" page for some of the things I was able to capture on film!

*so far only one video is uploaded. YOUTUBE IS TAKING FOREVER!

What is up with all the children here knowing how to ride unicycles? I am wondering if this is a new trend, or something that I just noticed recently but has been happening forever?

There is a gang of teeny children who meet outside in the parking lot in front of the building two over from mine. They have their pastel colored unicycles and ride around in circles. But sometimes I see them break free from the circle and go careening down the sidewalk towards the street, which nearly gives me a heart attack every time. I forgot that they are very adept and can turn on a dime with those things.

I fear I will one day be run out of Gakuentoshi by a mob of angry 7 year olds riding pastel unicycles and demanding all my Pocky sticks.

UPDATE: So, it is not a new trend.

Last night was my first Tigers game! The cheers at Japanese baseball games are nuts. They are all choreographed and everyone sings them in perfect unison in time to their noisemaker slapping. What they lack in Kiss Cams and Cap Dances they make up for in fireworks and balloons (see video), and what they lack in garlic fries and Sheboygan dogs they make up for in chu-hi and soba.

The Tigers lost by a lot (10-1 to the Dragons), but the fans keep the spirit alive. Kobayashi sensei told me that currently the Tigers are in first, when they normally finish 3rd or 4th in the season, and the Dragons were in second... I am guessing that changed after last night.

Anyway, see the video below to see what they do for the 7th inning stretch...

In case you couldn't tell, I was VERY excited. Hence the chaotic shaking near the end.

I am not feeling very inspired to write today, but I am slightly bored and my teaching time is over, so I have until 2:00, when I leave to pick up my health insurance card, to fill up my time. I want to appear super productive, but the reality is I have the next 2 weeks already planned out and I don't have anything to do right now. So I decided to compile a list of things that I love in Japan (so far) in an effort to both appear to be insanely productive and record all the things I love now before I head into the dreaded Stage 2.

Efficient trains
At home, BART can be pretty efficient, but even they are prone to breaking down and being delayed. BART workers also seem to be fond of going on strike, which I don't think the Japanese would even think of doing. It seems everyone is pretty content with their lot in life here. The train system in Japan is always always ALWAYS on time, and even though they can sometimes be crowded, at least you are guaranteed an air conditioned car, and although the seats are upholstered like they are on BART, here in Japan they actually appear very clean. And never smelly.

Sweat rags
Since it is still summer, it is still incredibly hot, and it is perfectly acceptable to drape a towel around your neck or carry a rag specifically for the purpose of mopping up sweat. Normally when I see this being done (which I don't think happens too much in California, even on hot days), it kind of looks gross, but since everyone here is into accessories, the sweat rags are always stylish and cute and, best of all, clean. So you can wipe up that disgusting perspiration with class.

Soba
Contrary to what I'd anticipated, I have only had sushi once since being in Japan. I thought everything would be all about sushi, but there are so many other things to eat that sushi eating kind of fell to the wayside. Now I love soba. It is amazing. See here.

Bowing
You can bow for any reason and the person at whom you are bowing will always bow back. I love the bowing. It is awesome. It also reminds you how darn respectful everyone is in this country. After a baseball game, the players run out on the field and line up to bow at their fans. My coworker Alisha noted that the train workers even bow at the trains when they pass by. There is just a level of reverence and appreciation exhibited by everyone in Japan that is simply lost on most Americans. Sad.

Daiso
I recently found out there is also a Daiso in the Bay Area, but since I didn't know that before I came here, I can say that Daiso is a reason why I love Japan. Also called the 100 Yen store, it is a wonderland of useless items juxtaposed with things you absolutely can't live without, and it is easy to confuse the two. I once filled up an entire basket with random things (most of them very useful, others may have been questionable), and I ended up spending only 3,500 yen. That is roughly $40. Weee!

The strength of the yen
Right now the yen is very strong. I hope it stays that way!

Cleanliness
Everything is so clean. I am not going to like coming back home to a dirty city. This is partly due to the fact that they are really anal about their garbage systems, and people carry around trash for miles until they can find an appropriate bin. (In case you were wondering about littering, it seldom happens, since I think you might get a huge fine, or at least a nagging tug on your conscience, and the Japanese seem to be a very polite and conscientious people.) Being in Japan is like walking around my parents' house before company comes over. Like fancy company.

Offensive American rap
For a country that can be very conservative, I find it awesome that they play vulgar rap songs in the strangest places, like, say, the sauna at the YMCA. The naïveté of this is just as endearing as...

Affinity for sporting marijuana paraphernalia
People have pot leaves hanging from the rear view mirrors and wear t-shirts with pot leaves on them. But it doesn't mean they smoke weed. In fact, most people aren't even aware of what it is. This country is so drug-free that the common citizen simply associates the image of a pot leaf with the carefree rastafarian lifestyle... Minus the cannabis. It's like sporting a peace sign to them. Totally harmless, I swear.

Children in hats
Japanese mothers have a tendency of putting silly hats on their children. Particularly the little boys. But the best part? The kids wear it like it ain't no thang. Oh, this silly looking straw hat with the blue ribbon with white boats tied around the brim? Yeah, this is my too-cool-for-school look. Adorable.

Walking
Why am I walking everywhere? I hate walking! Oh, wait, I have to walk because I don't own a car or a bike. But guess what? I have actually begun to enjoy walking places. I like walking leisurely to observe my surroundings, I like walking quickly during my morning commute to get where I need to be (and I take pride in passing the slower walkers, cuz I am usually the slow one with my short little legs, but in Japan my legs are the same length!), I like walking home after the gym at night and feeling the breeze cool me off after my workout, I like walking around my complex while talking on the phone... I have been converted to a walking nut.

Sockies
Or, socklets. Every woman in Japan needs a pair or ten. At home, I always wore my flats with no socks, and then would get home and air out my stinky sweaty feet, and curse any blisters I may have accumulated through the day. But the Japanese wised up and use little socks under all their flats, and although I hated the look of them at first, it has grown on me, and now I have a pair of black lace sockies that have a padded sole. Goodbye blisters and stinky feet! I love that these are sold everywhere for really cheap, including convenience stores. Which brings me to...

Combini
The combini is just what you call a convenience store. Except it should be called a convenience superstore, or a convenience better-than-anything-in-America store. We have 7-11 here and Am/Pm, but the one I frequent the most is the Sunkus by my house, which I think is owned by Circle K. You can get anything at the combini at any hour of the day. And, like everything else in Japan, it is always clean. Never has that weird sticky florescent smell. (Yes, there is such thing as a florescent smell... Think of all the common public places that have florescent lighting: DMV, hospitals, libraries... All have that weird smell...) Plus, you can pay your bills there. PAY YOUR BILLS AT A CONVENIENCE STORE! How apropos.

Vending machines
There are vending machines on every corner! Quite literally! And they are stocked with delightful beverages of all kinds: juice, cola, coffee, milk tea, water, ion water, chocolate milk,etc. Americans, take note. Home would be a much better place if I could conveniently buy my drink the seThere are also vending machines for cigarettes = not as awesome, but if dealing with that means I can have my beverage machine, too, then I'll take it!

Ok, those are the things I can think of for now. I will no doubt find more to write about.

 

Hooray for Japan!

I have a new love. Please don't tell Dan. (I don't think he'll ever find out through this blog, since I am pretty convinced he's never read it anyway!) But I found this new love by accident... Or was it serendipity? There is a thin line between accidents and destiny, and I am toeing it.

It started on Saturday.

Back up, it actually started on Friday when the idea was first planted in my head. It came out in two staccato syllables escaping from my kocho sensei's mouth: "So-ba?" The question mark is not an accident. His voice lilted upwards when he said the word. He was asking if I'd ever tried zaru soba, and even though I had heard of soba both at home and in Japan, I had yet to venture down that road. "It's so healthy! It has antioxidants! It's good for your digestion!" come the cries of soba fans, but I am stubborn and I tend to only want to try things because I want to, not because someone tells me to. Plus, it feels wrong to try to abandon my solid relationship with gohan, which has served me well all these years. "But there's no nutritional value in rice!" some may say. Indeed, it is the rice that is making my middle a bit more squishy than I would like. But it is familiar, and I didn't think I needed any more starch in my diet. (Fact: soba is made from buckwheat, which is infinitely better for you than any other pasta product. I think that is mostly true.)

Anyway, the question of soba, using limited English, intrigued me. Surely if kocho sensei is trying to convince me to eat it rather than easily give up, shake his head, and walk away (I often feel he gets exasperated with himself and would rather not talk to me at all), it must be worth it. So I unwittingly filed it in my head under "stuff to consider doing while in Japan, but you don't necessarily have to do it in order to experience the best the country has to offer." I should have actually filed it under "stuff that will change your life."

Fast forward to Saturday afternoon. Cherrelle and I were lazing around with nothing much on the agenda. All of a sudden it struck me how much I wanted sushi. I needed some sushi in my tummy like a pirate needs a parrot on his shoulder. That's pretty serious!

We wandered through Campus Square, convinced there had to be a sit-down sushi place somewhere. We looked at the dislpay windows that proudly showcased the restaurant's array of dusty plastic food. There was something that somewhat resembled one sushi dish, so we went inside. To our surprise (and, at the time, my chagrin), there was only that one sushi dish offered and the rest were all noodle dishes. And, of course, we still can't read kanji, so we had to decide what looked best from the pictures. Cherrelle ordered soup and the lone sushi offering, and I decided to go ahead and try some cold soba with octopus on top.

Now, anyone who has seen soba knows it doesn't look that appetizing.There is no fancy sauce on top, and the noodles themselves are kind of a greyish color. But, anyone who has looked at soba and dismissed it based on its appearance has made a huge mistake! My soba was delivered to me all in a bowl topped with some thick octopus (which I have grown to absolutely love) and sprinkled with nori and scallions. A small jar of cold soba tsuya came with it, which I was to pour over the noodles. There was also a smudge of wasabi on the lip of the bowl. I am sad to say I didn't bother taking a picture for my flog because I wasn't expecting much, and by the time I started eating it, I was so engrossed that the thought of flogging didn't even cross my mind.

I poured the tsuya over the top, mixed around all the toppings, and decided to be brave and add the spicy wasabi to everything too. When I took my first slurp, I'm pretty sure I went "Whoa!" It was refreshing, it was delicious, and it beat the pants off any other noodle dish I've had in Japan so far.

All cravings for sushi were quickly dissolved. I slurped the soba as though I were a prisoner on Death Row. The octopus was also a delicious compliment to everything else. It was one of those eating experiences where you start approaching your last few bites, and you actually feel sad. But, once it was over, I realized this was the beginning of something beautiful.

I started to wonder how wrong it would be to try to get some soba for dinner in lieu of going to the dinner party I was invited to that night. Surely I can have just a small bowl, and then make it to the party and eat some cake and appear to have a delicate appetite? I decided against this, but the whole time I was on my way to the dinner party, I started thinking about where else I could get soba from, and how soon could I go there. That, night, after the dinner party, I went to the conbini to grab myself a late night snack. But in reality, I was really scoping the deli aisle to see if they had any soba I can buy and shamefully eat in a dark corner somewhere. I pictured myself in my Gollum stance with my arm protecting my soba bowl, and if anyone would approach, I would turn my back to them and hiss, "My preciousssss." (Note: I have never seen Lord of the Rings, so what I am picturing in my head is probably inaccurate.) Unfortunately, the conbini was pretty empty that night, and I had to settle for a bowl of dehydrated ramen, which I ended up not eating that night because I was too disappointed about not finding soba.

Now I will take my soba wherever and however I can get it. Quick and cheap (from the convenience store). Hot and slow (at the soba restaurant at Campus Square). Fat soba, thin soba, I'll take it. I am an equal opportunity soba consumer. It doesn't matter where I have it; it always leaves me feeling satisfied, if not a little bit dirty. (As I type this I notice a tsuya stain on my white shirt and bits of nori scattered on my desk.) It has become my secret shame to think about my next bowl of soba. I have also become paranoid. The old lady on the train is staring at me. Is it because I'm gaijin, or because she knows I am trying to figure out an excuse to stay in Sannomiya till dinnertime so I can score some soba? Can they smell the scallions on my breath? Will my skin start to emit a buckwheat odor? What does buckwheat even smell like?

So if you happen to see me dining by myself in an isolated soba shop two towns over, pretend you don't know me. And please ignore the tsuya stain on my shirt.

PS- I expect my mom to be making a comment on the healthful benefits of soba in

I know JETs working at other schools can also say the same thing, but since I don't work for those schools, I can't vouch for them. I can, however, rightfully say that my school is rad.  

Can we please bring back that adjective? It isn't used nearly enough.

Anyway, reasons why Nagamine wins at the Rad Game:

1) Teachers
The teachers here are super sweet. They all got the memo that you are supposed to be nice to the ALTs, and a few of them will approach me to practice their English. They all have silly sense of humor, too. Plus, nobody else has a Kobayashi sensei. He alone wins the Rad Game for the school. He wears Crocs, after all.

2) Students
Sure they are a little shy at first, but I think that is just a country-wide trait. Having to coax answers out of kids comes with the territory (at least here in Japan). But, once you butter them up with postcards from San Francisco and the promise of stickers, they are hilarious. I can tell which ones are the most devious, but since all of them are essentially good kids, I quite love them already.

3) Lunchtime
Like I'm sure many other chugakus in Kobe do, they totally rock out during lunch. Now, I didn't know this because so far I've only been present for one lunch period, and I spent my time in the quiet staff room. But, today, as I was clearing out my stuff from the library, all of a sudden the intercom went on, a student said something something something something in Japanese, and then a loud head-banging rock song started blaring from the speakers. Whaaaa? I looked around, confused. Did someone hijack the speaker system? My OTE told me that they get to listen to whatever music they want during lunchtime. They take turns playing DJ, too. Who knew my kids were heavy metal fans?

4) View
One thing I know my school has over any other school in Kobe is the view. Holy moly, the view! I know we are situated on top of a giant hill and it's a pain in the butt to climb it (and expensive to cab it) every day, but the reward is the amazing view of all of Kobe. It's gorgeous. Check it out sometime.

5) Supply room
I've always worked at schools that had pretty tight budgets. Sometimes we'd run out of paper, and to hell with trying to get a new stapler. But the schools in Japan come equipped with the most well-stocked supply rooms imaginable! Magnets and cardboard and colored paper, oh my!

6) Kocho sensei
Kocho sensei is a tough nut to crack. He is always standing in some kind of stern manner, either with his arms folded across his chest with his chin up and peering down his nose at you, or with his hands on his hips, still with his chin up and peering down his nose at you. I know his English is not that great, but I hesitate to say that is the reason he doesn't talk to me much. I think he just doesn't like me. But anyway, the reason why he is rad is because he told me about zaru soba. That post will come soon, I promise.

I am sure there are a million more reasons and I can go on and on for days, but think of this as a bit of an amuse-bouche to entice you to want to come visit me and see how rad Nagamine is for yourself.

Peace out,

Japan, I have a bone to pick with you.

For a country that prides itself on its cleanliness, you sure are unsanitary. First there are the public restrooms without soap. No, not "Woops, Gertrude forgot to refill the soup dispensers, what a silly little bathroom matron," but the restrooms actually have no soap dispensers (about 50% of the time). Then you insist on having me select my baked goods by placing them directly on cafeteria trays. Do you wipe those trays down afterward? Oh, you do? With that brown rag? Hmm. I was willing to overlook those things, because exposure to germs can actually benefit your immune system, but some things just cross the line.

Like your urine tests.

Today I went to visit my friendly neighborhood City Hall for my health check. No big deal... blood pressure, eye test, hearing test, weight and measurement, and the requisite urine test. In the states, we pee in sterile plastic jars with screw-on lids that have our names or medical numbers labeled on them, and there is usually a little depository window in a bathroom or discreet area so that we can drop off our samples.

Oh, wait, you want me to pee in THAT cup? The little paper cup out of which I would otherwise drink a cold beverage at a child's birthday party? And you're not going to offer me a lid to conceal my sample from passersby, a way to label my pee, or a nice sterile biohazard bag to put it in? Oh, and you want me to walk with my open cup of pee down the hall and stand in line in an open room to have my health check completed? You don't think that's weird? No?

So there I am, holding my warm cup of pee (sounds like it can be a country song), thinking it doesn't get any stranger than this-- and yes, my fellow JETs are standing around me doing the same, and we are all giving each other the side eye and pretending it's normal and no, that is not urine in my cup. But, it does get stranger. We are being herded like cattle through the different health stations. It is a quick and efficient (though I hesitate to say thorough) method of checking the health of everyone in the city. You tell me to go to the first station where a friendly lady sits waiting for me to have my pee tested. No privacy! No, I am not behind a curtain or in a little room. I am just standing at a table handing my cup of pee to the lady sitting on the other side. Kind of a reverse lemonade stand of sorts. She quickly puts in the litmus paper, the colors change accordingly, she marks off my health form, and hands it back to me. I start towards the next station, but stop suddenly when I wonder: What is she going to do with my little cup of piss? I turn and see that she very casually dumps the urine in a small translucent jug on the floor and discards the cup in a wastebasket. A JUG OF URINE. URINE BELONGING TO SEVERAL DOZEN PEOPLE. All I can do is turn my widened eyes away and pretend to unsee what I just saw.

You sure do things differently here, Japan.

"A wise man climbs Fuji. Only a fool climbs it twice."

I paraphrased a very popular saying here in Japan. I know people who have climbed it more than once, and they are indeed foolish. Climbing Mt. Fuji was probably the hardest physical thing I've ever put myself through. The worst part? I did it willingly. There was no one holding a gun to my head, no one bribing me with millions of yen. Nope, I was just chatting with my friends at the Sogo Beer Garden last weekend and the question, "Want to climb Mount Fuji next week?" popped up. And I said yes. I blame the Chu-Hi.

Don't get me wrong, the climb up that mountain, taxing and arduous as it was, ended up being rewarding. But, as I have related to many people since finishing the climb, I think it is a lot like childbirth. During all the pain and agony and the "Why, God, WHY?" moments, all you can think about is the end. And then, once you've reached the end, this magical cloud is lifted and it is beautiful, and somehow your mind is able to erase all the horrifying pain you just inflicted upon your mind and body. However, to get to that point of clarity and appreciation, it takes a bit of recovery, and I don't think I'm quite there yet.

We started our journey at 6am on Saturday morning. Natalie, Cherrelle, Latoyaa, and I were going to take the subway to Shin-Kobe station to catch the bullet train (shinkansen) to Shizuoka. That is where Cherrelle's friend Ashley from Tokyo orientation was living, and where we would take the bus to the 5th station of Fuji. The bullet train is SWEET. When it passes through the station, the force of it knocks you back a little. We had reserved seats, and the first few minutes were spent in awe at how quickly houses and telephone poles wooshed past. We watched as the city center quickly gave way to greener countryside. However, this beautiful view was cut off when more passengers boarded and the local Japanese, unfased by the familiar passing landscape, pulled the shades down. I took that opporunity to try and catch some sleep. The bullet train only took about 2 hours from Kobe to Shizuoka, which is just before Tokyo. Even though it's pricey, it was so worth it!

Once we got to Shizuoka, we met with Ashley and Krystal. It was still pretty early at this point, so we tried to find the only Mexican place in the area, El Pollito. Unfortunately, it was closed (HUGE disappointment), so we settled for trying some Mos Burger. Not quite In n Out, but it did its job of filling my tummy! We then headed back to Ashley's flat to take a nap and rest.

Being at Ashley's made me evermore grateful for my placement in Kobe. Though it was a good little neighborhood, her building was far older and her predecessors (both male) had left her with a bit of a dusty and run down situation. Even though the apartment was huge, about twice the size of mine, there was only AC in one room. The other girls crammed into the AC room to take a nap, and I settled for sweating it out on the tatami floor. After the nap we wandered around downtown Shizuoka for a little bit. I ended up doing something that would later teach me (and my bowels) a great lesson: I ate a beef bowl before climbing Mt. Fuji. I don't want to talk about it.

Then it was time to board the bus to Fujisan. It was a long bus ride, about 2 hours, and I got a bit car sick on the way. Imagine being on a crammed bus that is winding its way quite quickly up a mountain. I had to trade seats with Cherrelle to stick my head out the window. The air felt so amazing! I miss fresh, non-humid mountain air. It was nice and cold, since it was about 8:00 PM at this point. It was a good preview for the chilly weather to come.

We got to the 5th station (about 2400 meters up) and had to wait around about an hour to let our bodies adjust to the altitude. Then we were off. We took the Fujinomiya trail, which I later found out was the "quickest" but steepest route. Sally, the girl on the bus who had organized the trip, had said that the average person made it to the summit in 5 hours. Now, coming from a girl who admitted she never made it to the top and quit at station 7.5, I somehow believed her. I now know that Sally is a liar.

From 5th station to 6th station was a piece of cake. How deceiving. We were high fiving each other and still very genki, not bothering to really take a break. We just collected our stamps for our walking sticks which indicated how high we were climbing. Then we were on our way to 7th station.

Between 6th and 7th station is where I started getting the inkling that this was going to suck. We got to the new 7th station, which was all boarded up. No vending machines, no friendly man to stamp your stick. I plopped down for a minute, took in some of my canned oxygen, whined internally, and then dragged myself up and headed to station 7.5, the old weather station. Along the way the hill got steeper, and the rocks got tricker to climb. You might be wondering how the heck thousands of us were climbing in the dark. It was part head lamp, part blind instinct, and part trusting the complete stranger in front of you to lead you in the right direction. When I finally made it to station 7.5, I had lost 4 of my original companions but picked up 2 more, Kellen and Rebecca. There was a strong sense of comraderie, not only because we were climbing together, but also because they spoke English and it was reassuring for me to know that if I died, they would be able to tell my family. (No, really, that thought crossed my mind.)

Station 7.5 is where things started to break down. I was originally just in my sweat wicking T-shirt and running pants, but now I had on my long sleeve shirt and was debating putting on my fleece. I was experiencing bouts of dizziness and was hitting my oxygen often, maybe too often that what was necessary. I was hoping I didn't break down and cry, or worse, not finish the climb to the 10th station. Everyone got a bit more whiny and my water was starting to run low. But I knew I had to keep going!

The next stretch from 7.5 to 8 was a blur. I think I lost my friends at one point, and started singing a lot of Bon Jovi in my head. Then suddenly I looked up and saw the lights of the 8th station not too far ahead. Better yet, I could smell the bathrooms. Who knew the stench of rotting human waste would be so welcoming? It meant that there was someplace warm and flat for me to sit for a moment. I got to the 8th station and everyone had to be very quiet because that is where people were allowed to buy a spot to sleep. If I had been given more time, I would have gladly bought one of those spots in the warm hut, but, alas, we had to be back down at the bus by 12 noon the next day, and I was still far from the top. I sent a text to Natalie (thank god for cell reception at the stations), finished my water, left Latoyaa in the fetal position, and then headed up to 9th station. Alone.

A few hundred meters past 8th station, I had to pull on Dan's trusty Foothill Water Polo pants. I think these saved me, since my legs had begun shivering. I couldn't tell if it was because of muscle fatigue or cold, but after the pants came on, I was as happy as I could be at that point. Somewhere along the trudging, I stopped and saw in the distance bright orange flashes in the sky. It turns out we were far above the clouds, and I was looking down at a thunderstorm somewhere over Shizuoka. It was amazing! I stood with the Japanese guys next to me, them exclaiming "Sugoi! Sugoi! Sore wa! Sugoi!" and me going "Holy sh*t, that's awesome!" But, back to business. I kept on trudging, trading Bon Jovi for John Mayer's "Who Says," particularly the line that says "Plan a trip to Japan alone." Cuz that was where I was at that point. Alone, on Mt. Fuji. Weird.

It must have been about 3:30Am when I looked to my right and saw the faintest orange on the horizon. Crap, the sun was coming up, and I could see the 9th station about 100 meters away. Which, in Mt.-Fuji-vs.-Erica speak, was about 10 minutes. I hauled as fast as I could, passing some little old lady who wasn't moving and I hoped hadn't died, and made it to the 9th station with a few minutes to spare. I sat myself on the retaining wall, which scared a woman who thought I was going to fall off. I got a thorough Japanese lecture from her, while I kept saying, "Demo, so desu ne! Ee desu! Ee desu!" Man, I wish I spoke better Japanese.

The sunrise was beautiful. It rivaled Haleakala, and I wish my SD card reader hadn't pooped out on me so I could have used my real camera. Instead I relied on my Flip and my iPhone, which took okay shots, but didn't capture how amazing it was to be 3400 meters above the earth and looking down at clouds and villages below. I was so exhausted at this point that as soon as the sun was completely above the horizon, I scurried into the little hut, bought some hot water for my dehydrated ramen bowl, and sat and ate leisurely. I thought for sure I had enough time to make it to the 10th station and back. I started heading to station 10 at around 5:45 AM.

About 15 minutes into my climb, weird things started happening. The Japanese people behind me suddenly started speaking German. I turned around, but they still looked Japanese. I shook it off and kept climbing. But then I started having a crazy thought. Oh my God, they are Germans disguised as Japanese people. And then I started getting really paranoid. Why were they following me? Why wouldn't they pass? What were they saying? It was at that point that I realized Iwas getting dilirious, and that, after nearly 8 hours of straight climbing, I was going crazy and needed to sleep. The sun was starting to heat up the mountain very quickly, so I found a nice "soft" bed of lava rocks, took off my fleece, and laid down. I set my alarm for 10 minutes. 10 minutes would surely give me enough energy and sanity to make it to station 10?

I awoke to the sounds of booming. It sounded familiar. I've heard that before. It was the sound of the blasts detonated when ski patrol was doing avalanche checks in Tahoe. Was it possible they were doing blasts to loosen rocks on Mt. Fuji? No way they would be doing this with so many people! (It turns out it was a weapons test site a few kilometers from the base of the mountain.) In my paranoia, I jumped up, and checked my clock to realize I had slept over 40 minutes. Crap! There might not be time to make it to 10th station if I wanted to start heading back by 7:00.

I could see the 10th station not too far away. Or, what I thought was the 10th station. Turns out, it was station 9.5. I got to the point where the trail narrowed to next to nothing, and everyone was literally at a standstill. There was no way I would be able to make it to the top (or what I thought was the top), get my stamp, and be able to run down the mountain. I'd heard this line could take over an hour. 

I made the decision at 6:45 to turn around. Sad face. I wanted that 10th station stamp so badly! But I knew it wasn't worth getting abandoned on Mt. Fuji, so I started down.

Nobody told me the descent would be so horrible. It was so much worse than going up. If I had known that making my way down the trail would hurt so badly, I would have traded it in for climbing up for twice the distance that I already covered! My toes were constantly jamming into the ends of my hiking boots, and my bad knee started to buckle at parts. Plus, my body was so tired that I would plant my stick, lose my footing, and stumble down a bunch of rocks before I was able to re plant my stick. 

It was awful. I don't want to have to relive it.

Almost to station 7.5, I met up with Krystal and Natalie. They had made it up to the top, but they didn't look too happy. In fact, non of the gaijin faces I saw looked happy. 

The rest of the climb down was a long torturous journey. My mind chooses to blank it out because of how horrible it was!

In the end, I made it back to 5th station by 11:20. Plenty of time to stretch and buy omiyage. I had wished I waited in that line to get to that next station, but when I was told that wasn't even the top, I realized at this point I could have no regrets.

Once we got on the bus, I almost immediately passed out. It was a dreamless sleep, and I probably could have slept for 12 hours if we didn't have to disembark to switch to the shinkansen. I was filthy, tired, and sore, and the only thing I could think about was my bed in Kobe. Which was still almost 3 hours away!

So, I would recommend climbing Mt. Fuji to anyone who wants a good story to tell, anyone who likes to earn bragging rights, and those masochists out there who think it's fun to push your body's limits. However, if you just want to see the sunrise, I recommend sitting on the beach with a morning beer and dig your toes into the sand. That being said, I am probably a fool for already considering going again. This time, though, I would stop at the 7th station to rest and I would pack much more water. I would also make sure a bus isn't going to leave me stranded if I want to reach the summit.

You got me, Fuji. You got me.

 

 

If you can name where the above quote came from, I will give you ￥100 when I get home. That's more than a whole dollar!

This quote came to mind this morning when I put on my flowy sleeveless top, because I didn't want to sweat through my cardigan before I even arrived at work... again. I got many stares from the capped-sleeved women on the Ladies-only train car, but they could have been staring at the giant REI backpack I have strapped on my back (they favor tote bags and briefcases, even if it screws up your alignment). But it is hot, and I will take off my cardigan while waiting for the train, dammit! And even though the train car is air conditioned, I will keep it off until I walk onto my campus!

Right now the Bay Area is experiencing a heat wave (from the looks of things on my Facebook feed, it seems as though people think the Apocalypse is coming), but I imagine people are happily sitting in their air conditioned buildings and wearing shorts and tank tops as they please. They can probably also wear the giant sunglasses I love so much. (Here you are looked at kind of funny, since everyone carries a parasol.) As for me? I think my wrists are developing carpal tunnel syndrome from all the fanning I have to do. Not sure how well my Japanese detergent will be at getting out all these sweat stains, too.

Grrr, Japan. Grrrr.