You Put Your Down Down and Thrust Your Pelvis! Uh!

week·end (wēk'ěnd') [week-end, -end]
–noun
1. the end of a week, esp. the period of time between Friday evening and Monday morning.
2. any two-day period taken or given regularly as a weekly rest period from one's work.

Rest? Pfft. Not for the weary...

I'll introduce this update in a style that one of my friends here enjoys: So, what does Hard Gay (wikipedia it if you don't know:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hard_Gay), narrowly making/missing trains, and logs set ablaze have in common? This weekend.

So the weekly exodus of Tottori people took us far from home, over the rainbow to the other side of OZ a.k.a. the Greater Yonago Area. Specifically, it's a little town called Kishimoto that is quaint and quiet and out of the way. That is, until the foreigners descended upon it. We were in town for the birthday party of our Trini girl Simone, who had graciously opened the doors to her home to allow us to trash it. I mean party and sleep there. Such parties are great times for us Tottorians because they bring us all together from far and wide to one place to catch up and shoot the breeze.

Just getting started was quite the missions, as I arrived at the station to leave with perhaps three minutes to spare. I was to travel with Michelle, Stephanie, and Renate; however they were making food for the party/train ride, and as I had to go to the bank first and would therefore require more time, I decided to leave a few minutes before them. Just as I walked in the entrance of the station, Meredith breathlessly came running up and all but shoved me along to the ticket counter, up the escalator and onto the train. We made it on with perhaps 30 seconds to spare, and I desperately tried to call the girls to apprise them of the situation. I succeeded in reaching Michelle, who informed me that they were just buying the tickets then. No sooner did the words leave her mouth did the doors to the train close and we were on our way. It was fortunate for the girls that there was another train in about twenty minutes, and, though their journey was a bit more eventful than mine (missed a stop), we did through one way or another all arrive at the party by day's end.

The icing on the cake of this party was the shadow of Halloween cast upon the weekend. Believe you me; you don't want to ask a group of JETs to use their imaginations, especially when it comes to costumes. I’ll... let the pictures speak for themselves.

In any event, it was quite the evening of Panty Dropper (A Jesus Juice-esque mélange of random liquors, juices, and fruits), winding in the dancehall (formerly the living room), and one outlandish costume after another. But oh, it ends not here. Afterwards, we're heading to the bar in Yonago! Suffice it to say, drinks were had, dances were made, fun was done. All and all, a good night.

The next morning we decided as consensus to stop it at Mitoku on the way home to attend the Fire Festival. For those not familiar with Mitoku, it is the mountain/Buddhist temple that we had missioned to in the first few weeks. The one with the temple perched on the side of the mountain? Oy... read the blog more, people.

I'm not sure the specifics of it, but from what I gather the fire is sacred and is supposed to cleanse you of impurities. By literally burning them off of you. We don't actually walk ON fire, or on burning hot coals, but rather on logs that are on the fire, so it isn't so bad, actually. I did get a tiny burn, but I suppose that's the same as someone saying that they got a little wet while going swimming.

After the festival, Ayden drive Renate and I to the train station and we made the mutha with 10 seconds to spare. Quite literally. Well, not THAT literally as when we got to the door someone in a wheelchair was getting off, so that took about 30 extra seconds or so. But if it wasn't for that, it would have been a photo finish.

So while it was nothing that was the hallmark of the Japan odyssey, it was the paragon of just the sort of random, exciting, sleep-deprived weekend that is the norm here in the merry ol’ land of Japan.

A Weekend Out of Time

FOREWARD: So out of an alternating combination of sloth and perpetual busyness, I haven't written this for two weeks, so here it is now. When you see "this weekend" or "today" or "yesterday", think that it happened two weeks ago.

So many a time, a single decision puts us on course for one destiny or another – the slightest of determinations can drastically and irrevocably shape our fates in profound ways never before imagined. An entire life can be thrown on tangents fantastic and terrifying on a whim.

This was not the case this weekend. We simply made the choice to go to Matsue lest we be bored at home.

Renate, Meredith, and I, on the whim of a moment, decided that we needed to get out of the city, and in fact, out of the prefecture entirely. One of the girls decided that we should do up the neighbouring prefecture's capital as it was not all and all too far away. The plan really took shape when we decided that on the way back we could stop at Mt. Daisen and give it a leisurely climb. Smug and content with out battle plan, we strapped on our armor, ready our weapons, and went to wage war with Saturday and Sunday (We got some clothes together, stopped at the bank, and drove off in the car).

The scenery once you leave the city is quite lovely – and stark, too. One moment you're passing the mall, and the next you're surrounded by mountains and valleys all around you, interspersed with tiny villages here and there. It would be a nice drive on a lazy afternoon – If only gas wasn't so expensive.

NOTE: By the way, gas here is equivalent to about $1.50 a litre, so quit your complaining, Canada. Of course, some of the tanks are smaller, so the fill-up is about the same cost, but... yeah.

Three and change hours and one toll booth later, and we have arrived in Matsue, the capital city of Shimane prefecture. Matsue in many ways reminds me of Tottori, but with subtle differences. Perhaps it's the abundance of older architecture; the "Old Japan" feel if you will. Just carried a "Japanese" air about the place, if that makes any sense.

In any event, we decided to hit up Matsue Castle first. Matsue is one of 12 castles in Japan that is still in its original skin. That is to say, it hasnt been besieged, burnt down, and reconstructed. As such, the walls, roofs, beams, etc., actually are 400 + years old. And as most castles in Japan are prone to having, it was replete with artifacts belonging to the castle lords, armor, swords, painting, scrolls, and many other things making it a veritable museum.

After the castle, we hit up a samurai residence. Just as it sounds, it was a house that was occupied by a samurai family about 200 years ago or so. I really enjoyed it there because I thought it was interesting that people actually lived in this place, going about their daily lives oblivious that some time later people would be admiring it and taking pictures of it and such. It made me think if there were any buildings that I see everyday that could one day be tourist attractions: A police station, a restaurant, my friend's house. Hey, you never know. After all, I'm sure that if I time-traveled back and told someone at the house of its future popularity, they'd be quite surprised – And not just because of the fact that a black dude was talking to them in English during the middle of 19^th century isolationist Japan.

We then missed a little boat cruise by a few minutes at around 5 P.M. (much to the girls' disappointment), and so decided to find us some food as we were starving. This led us to drive and then walk to a place that had a distinctly Western-restaurant feel to it (Think Kelsey's, but more done up). The service started great in that Meredith got her food only minutes after ordering it, but then things took a downward spiral. Almost 15 or so minutes later, Renate got her food. And an almost unprecedented 20 minutes after that, my culinary delight finally arrived (By which point Meredith was long done, and Renate was on the hind legs). Bone-headed us, we decided to order dessert, and that took I don't even remember how long to reach us. Needless to say, while the staff was very friendly, we were left wondering whether the servers also doubled as the cooks.

Dinner in belly, we bid our Matsue farewell, and then back into Tottori prefecture. The next stop found us in Yonago, which is the second biggest city after Tottori city. We humbly asked a friend if we could crash at her place because, as we wanted to do Mount Daisen and it was only about 30 minutes from Yonago (As opposed to two hours from Tottori), we felt it the prudent choice. Our friend graciously allowed us the use of her floor and many futons, and we fell asleep almost immediately.

Sidebar: MAD love to Kira (Upon whose floor we slept). There's one more place in the (Tottori) shi to crash if you're ever on this side of the prefecture. (Shi is a prefix attached to names to indicate that they're cities. We here use it as a diminutive to refer to Tottori city: Tottori-shi = Tottori City; Yonago-shi = Yonago City).

Early on the next morning, we gave out much love to our friend and set out for Daisen. Renate's car – which she has affectionately named Mitsurugi – barely made it up the mountain despite the fact that she had her pedal literally to the floor and the poor ol' boy was still barely making 40. But! We made it. A quick inspection led me to believe that I may have underestimated the mountain, as everyone around was in hardcore hiking gear (Clothing, equipment, backpacks, etc), and I was just chilling in my jeans and t-shirt. I gave it no more than a passing thought and we began our odyssey. Even getting to the stall to pay was a mission and a half as the concourse up to it was a good 30 degree incline or so. There was a few shrines and temples on the way up – a few hundred years old each – and then the actual climb on the path began.
Before I talk about the climb, please keep in mind that I'm really, really... really out of shape. P.E. and me don't see clearly. Please just bear this in mind. So there was two legs to it. In the first leg, it wasn't so bad: The trail was inclined, but fairly constant and the terrain was relatively good. Then we hit a dam – literally. A series of obsolete dams at which we could catch a reprieve as it was a very flat and open space. Then the second leg began.

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Renate will vouch for me on this one. I think it's safe to say that I've never been so physically exhausted in all my life and I hyperbolize not. Ms. Über-fit Meredith we bade to go on without us as we were being deadweight. And so the two of us were going at the snail's pace, one foot in front of the other, and taking breaks every 20 meters it seemed. Where there were stairs, I was taking it one step at a time – Nothing in the universe existed to me except for that next step that was barely in my field of vision. I think that at one point I actually saw my life flash before my eyes. Conversely, I remembered a few things that I've got to apologize to a few people for. :P It was about at this point, perhaps 1400 meters up, that I got my second wind. From whom I stole it, I know not, but however I did it, I was still winded, but able to continue more easily.

Something cool about the climb was that EVERYONE who passes you, either going the same way or, more often than not, coming back down, will say konnichi wa to you with a smile. A few will even offer you encouragement, such as gambatte ne (Good luck!) or muzukashii ne (It's difficult, isn't it?), and I found these little bits to be rather fostering to my determination to pwn the mountain.

We did in fact summit, at which point I understood the reason for the crazy climbing gear as the temperature dropped a good ten degrees, and add to that flowing air currents that might blow over a small child. But it made for a great view and a very fulfilling sense of accomplishment to finally make it up there.

A friend of ours is going to do the mountain four times over the course of two days – twice a day. We think that he's mad. But to him, I bid gambatte!

The Japanese rock my socks (Or, The Karma Gods are in a good mood)

The eternal lights in the sky take note of the scurrying little 'uns on the pale blue marble. They pull on cosmic drawstrings to effect the most subtle of events and actions that reverberate forward in time like the butterfly's tornado. Divine intervention, karma, probability, call it what you will; however it seems to swoop down from above and smack us in the head when we often least expect it, for good or for naught. And it just so happens that such a spooky event happened to me yesterday.

For the last few days, I've been doing a presentation for one of my classes. We're doing a unit about world peace and what the students can do for world peace. To give them an example, Karen (The other ALT at my school) wrote a story for all the classes involved about the Free Hugs campaign so as to show the students something easy that one person can do for world peace. Last week, with maybe 10 minutes or so before one of these classes, the teacher that I'd be having class with asked me to put together a powerpoint about the subject. 10 minutes. So in a whirlwind, I manage to research some things and slap something quickly together. It works; the class understood it. Me being the perfectionist that I am, I wanted to make it better (A: Because it was going to be used in other classes by other teachers, and B: Because I was going to be using it the following week), so little by I added in pictures, more explanation, etc. Spice it up a bit.

The point of this deluge is that I've had "Random Acts of Kindness" floating around in my head for the last few days. Bear in mind.

Yesterday @ school was a fight as I was feeling sick from the get go. This nagging sore throat was bothering me all day, and it certainly did not help matters that I had to loudly speak in several classes all day. So coming home, being sick and tired - literally - I had of no inclination to make dinner for myself, so I decided to stop in to a place at the station.
Aside: In or around more sizable stations in Japan, there are a plethora of ramen shops, coffee shops, etc., that serve cheap, quick food to travelers in a hurry or businessmen on the way home.

I stopped in front of a small soba shop and when the owner - a middle-aged woman - smiled at me, I took it as an inviting sign and went it, ordered a bowl, and had a seat at the "bar".

Aside: In Japan, if you speak to someone in Japanese off the bat, especially if you look like you know what you're talking about, especially if your pronunciation is good, they'll continue to speak to you in Japanese until such time as you make a mistake (Say something grossly wrong, fail to understand a question, etc.) at which time they'll either switch to English, or speak in very simple Japanese.

So as I ordered in Japanese very quickly, she proceeded to have a conversation with me. This is no more unusual that it is anywhere else - working at or near a train station/airport/port you encounter your fair share of travelers and want to hear their stories, so you talk to them. Same thing here. I told her I was a teacher living nearby and that I was from Canada and such, and we had a conversation about Canadian life and my time in Japan. Out the blue, during a pause in our conversation, she asked if I like "onigiri", to which I replied in the affirmative, and without a word she took one of the ones for sale on the bar and placed it before me with a smile. Floored, I apologized profusely (that's just what you do here when you get something; apologize) and told her that she didn't have to. She said something along the lines of, "It's no big deal", and that it was ok. I thanked her and finished my meal.

When I paid, she handed me my change, and then placed before me a saran wrapped ball of rice, "for second dinner", she said (I had mentioned earlier in my conversation with her that the soba was my dinner for the evening). Again, I bowed myself silly and told that she didn't have to, but she said that she was happy to do it.

Perhaps it was the random act of kindness that I received at the same time that I was preparing the lessons at school. Or perhaps it was just something nice a stranger did on a day that I wasn't feeling so hot. Whatever it is, I felt impelled to share my simple tale. And so I left the soba shop with a full stomach, a full bag, and a full heart.