Military bases are toxic, right? There must be pollution, right? Open "canals" - ditches - carry irrigation runoff back to the sea. Aircraft take off day and night. Gleaming water pipes run overground everywhere. And this base is surrounded by enormous chemical plants. Groves of candy-striped smokestacks belch white smoke day and night. But the worst pollution on base is the music -- I have Tony Curtis's "That's amore" running through my head. Why? I wonder. Then I return to the exchange (sort of a military Walmart). The one record plays over and over, day after day. I hear it again: "That's amore." The next time: "That's amore." I marvel that the people who work there don't go stark raving bazoo with the repetition. At the club it's far worse. I'm still eating most of my meals there since I'm still in temporary quarters. The music is always the same -- some sort of pop rap. I have a bad reputation there now with the morning waitresses, because I once complained about the music and asked that it be turned down. They turn it off when they see me. They're afraid I'll throw another temper tantrum. It's horrible music -- not the first time nor the fifth, but by the hundredth, it's torture. The night I returned from Tsuwano, there was semi-classical piano music on for once, and how lovely it sounded. Don't you mind the music? I ask the waitresses. Oh, we don't hear it. !!!! One asks me, don't you like Britney Spears? The waitresses are Japanese and Philipino, with a rare American. I think they just regard it as American music, it's not their music, and so they don't hear it.
The one eatery on base that's not standard American is the soba shop. It's a real hole in the wall. It's out in the middle of nowhere, ensconced between a motor pool and other military buildings. A stark little box of a place. Run by Japanese. Plastic food out front. But it's authentic, noodle dishes and rice dishes - double fried soba is one of my favorites - or katsu curry rice - katsu stands for breaded sliced pork - and its cheap. Instead of music, there's a TV showing grainy Japanese variety shows - very silly but at least there's no music. Today I ran into another teacher, a friend of mine, there and we talked politics - evolution - Marxism - he teaches social studies.
You can also eat at the Food Court - which has mini- Subway, Frank's (furters), Taco Bell, KFC, and Burger King. I eat one thing there - No 6 - two chalupas and a taco, supreme, steak. Off the Food Court is the bookstore slash coffee shop which serves Seattle coffee and ice cream. The bookstore is tiny. The base library is somewhat better. I can give you a feeling for what it has when I tell you it has all the Harry Potter's but no Aristophanes. But it does have Sophocles, Homer, Euripides.
One of the offbase eateries is famous, although the story may be apocryphal. It supposed to serve the best BLT in the world. Supposedly Playboy magazine made this claim. How did they find that out? I've yet to try it. The place is another hole in the wall, on the strip just outside the gate, run by an aging Japanese couple.
Several teachers went to an Indian restaurant named Ganesh. Did they know that the elephant god was Ganesh? No, they didn't know that. See the men with elephant trunk all over the walls? Oh, interesting!
The base is a miniature world - it has one of everything - to duplicate life in America, to take care of us so we can support the "mission". We're encouraged to get off base and enjoy Japan. When we do so, we must realize that we are American ambassadors. We don't want to be making American foreign policy by our stupidity. Even civilians must abide by the dress code. We are not to draw attention to ourselves. So I bought a few clothes in drab colors. Then I realized I looked very military - those drab colors. I'm not even in the military! So I bought a yellow sun hat.
I immediately felt at home on base upon arriving here. I grew up on or near Army bases. On Okinawa as a teenage I had a job as livesaver for a marine swimming pool. The marines here don't swagger. They are the nicest boys. There are girls too and it seems normal to have both men and women in uniform. Lots of times you'd think there wasn't a soul living on base -- where is everybody? Then rush hour hits - and downtown Marine Corps Air Station Iwakuni - that one god-awful intersection where five roads converge - is chock-a-block with cars. Or in the mornings, all those cars lined up at the front gate trying to get to work - and they check every ID. The pilots themselves are generally seen at lunch wearing those camel-colored flightsuit overalls which are apparently the marine pilot's garb. They sit in long tables, five, ten, twenty of them, all men, one woman.
One of the social studies teachers Friday says to me it takes four years for a teacher to learn all the social science curriculums - much harder than math. Much harder than math? What's he mean? There are just as many different math courses. Nah, he says, there's only nine numbers, how hard can math be?
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Tsuwano
Japan is big and small. It's big when you set out to explore. But I'm constantly reminded how small it is, when our sports teams head out for the weekend. They take the bus or the shin (bullet train) to the ends of Japan, arrive the same day, play ball, and return a day later. I ought to be able to do the same.
Here I am in Yamaguchi Prefecture, southern-most in Honshu. It's here I want to explore before I head in all directions. I'm reading the Inland Sea by Richie, in preparation for heading that direction. I'm curious about central Honshu and the north. But first let's talk the West. Here on base we're told take the train. It's easier. The roads---avoid them. And anyway it's easy to see the roads don't go everywhere. Chugoku is not very wide. And yet there are not so many highways that cut across. Japan has surprisingly few highways. There's a lot of mountains in the way. The Chugoku Expressway runs down the middle of Chugoku from Osaka to Shimonoseki. Then there's highways that skirt the coast. Relatively few cut across from Inland Sea to Japan Sea. I live on the Inland Sea. I read that the Japan Sea coast is remote. And it certainly looks hard to get to. In short, I want to explore Yamaguchi, but it seems daunting. Go inland on local highways and take your life in your hands.
I've been using the Rough Guide. It tells of relatively few things in Yamaguchi-ken worth seeing. And there's huge gaps between destinations. Other guide books have even less to say. I get it in my head I want to go to Yamaguchi-shi next, that's Yamaguchi City, capitol of Yamaguchi-ken. I want to go to Tsuwano, I want to go to Hagi. The men behind the Meiji Restoration were from Yamaguchi-ken, did you know that? I want to drive across the island which is enticingly narrow down here. So off I went with a friend, Deborah, the elementary school nurse. She'd new this year, too. We both felt the same way. Life in the States was stultifying. Living in Japan is a breath of fresh air. We both miss our families, though. Her Mom's dead, my Mom is getting older. I have sisters in the states, a brother, nieces, aunts, cousins. But they're all over. One of my sisters is a Japan afficionado. She dreams of Japan. She loves sumo, ukiyo-e, kendo, early twentieth century Japanese novelists, the whole history. I also have a dream of Japan, the world-dream, the world that I find and create here.
Anyhoo, Deborah and I found and took the Sanyo Expressway from Iwakuni to Yamaguchi-shi. I'd never been on the Japanese Expressways before. I sort of had the feeling that it would be a strange and daunting adventure. Perhaps the entrances would be weird, and I'd take the wrong one, and go the wrong way. Or perhaps I might come across the end of the Earth and fall off. There might not be turnouts, rest stops, Western toilets, only Japanese toilets, mere porcelain holes in the ground, without toilet paper. Also, it was the first time I'd driven my new-used car on a road trip. The people on base here treat cars differently than people in the States. Everyone drives a used car, all of them cost about $3000, you buy one quickly. I'd bought a white 2000 Honda Capa, which was the first car I could fit in. And it allowed me to sit up without my head hitting the ceiling and see out without my eyes looking straight at the top of the windshield. In short, it reminded me somewhat of my Ford Ranger 1996. A friend of mine called it a milk truck. It's described as a sub-compact, but somehow it's roomy. I had a Daihatsu like that once. But how would the Capa drive on the highway?
It turns out that roads are roads. Once we negotiated the toll booth, which was not in English (don't get in the ETC lane), we did just fine on the Expressway. The top speed on the Expressway, and in all of Japan, is 80 km/hr. Japan is not Germany when it comes to speed limits. However, the Japanese blithely ignored them, and went 90, 100, or 120 kph. Not Johanys. The Capa seemed to swerve a little at speed, but actually handled well on curves. There were plenty of turnouts. There were big rest stops with all the amenities. There were Western toilets and toilet paper. I bought gas for double the U.S. and military rate here. It must have cost $5 or $6 per gallon. The Capa gets 40 miles to the gallon, so we drove all day and used half a tank of gas--5 gallons. We never did reach the ends of the Earth. There were lots of long tunnels. Misty mountains all around. You could see the sea off to the South. We merged with the Chugoku Expressway, got off at Ogori, took highway 9 north about 10 clicks and there we were in Yamaguchi. It took about 2 hours total. The toll was ¥26500.
Yamaguchi is a bit sleepy. Our ostensible goal there was the flea market held in a downtown park every first Sunday of the month. There must have been a hundred vendors, and hundreds of customers. There were old coins, old pottery, lots of fabric swatches which attracted the Japanese, old kimonos, old military uniforms and paraphernalia, beat up chotchkes and furniture. The stuff was pricey, and junky. A shiny Japanese bugle was ¥13,000, $125. No way. Off in one corner, an old man had a blanket on the ground and some little things, and I saw a pretty wood vase with a flower design for ¥300, less than $3. I knew it was for me. I hadn't eaten, there was a Danish stand (Japanese Danish), I asked the vendor for an apple turnover, he spoke Japanese at me rapid patter, obviously offering to cut one up and place it on the free plate for me. Two middle-age ladies were laughing at him and me. He ostentaciously offered them to me, they laughed, then he thanked me, and I thanked him back, and the ladies laughed even harder, saying, "Dozo". All very good fun. I did see a few marines in civvies, one with missing arm, looking at samurai swords. After a while the Japanese vendor chased them off roughly. One of the marines, the armless one, caught my eye and shrugged.
After we'd done the flea market, it was still morning. We ate in the downtown shopping arcade in a Japanese restaurant. We had to take off our shoes and eat at the upstairs counter overlooking the arcade, since all the tables were sit on the floor type. Each table was in its own little alcove with curtains and screens. There were wells to place your feet so you could actually sit up, but Deborah wanted a chair. The place was all wood, and we ate the typical ten-plate or bowl fixed price meal for a very good price, ¥1000. There is no tipping in Japan.
The day was young. I wanted to spend more time in Yamaguchi, but I'd come back later and meander. I hadn't told Deborah about Tsuwano or Hagi. She was disappointed with the flea market. Was she interested in further adventures? Let's go to Tsuwano! says I. Where is it? Oh, about an hour or hour and a half into the moutains. Long as you get me get home alive, says she. So we headed out of town highway 9 north. Immediately there were fewer cars. We drove along river valleys, low mountains on both sides, one narrow valley seeming to lead to another, passing pretty villages and riding along pleasant rivers. This was truly rural Japan, emerald fields, blackgreen mountains. There were lovely rest stops along rivers with multiple places to stop and eat. Eventually we entered deeper into the mountains. There were windy roads, steep ascents, cliffs at road's edge you could fall down thousands of feet. Suddenly we were there. On our left, down in a valley, off the beaten track, a small town---Tsuwano.
We headed down, under a great red torii leading precipitously into the narrow valley. Across on the other slope hundreds or thousands of gaudy vermilion toriis wound up the hill from the town to a shinto shrine high in the hills. Somewhere above the shrine was the castle. Swiftly we were down in the town. We parked at the train station. Parking is cheap in these towns, a hundred yen ($1) an hour. It was a Japanese holiday, and we saw a number of buses letting off Japanese tourists to wander the streets for a while.
The place to start looking around is Tono machi, says the guide book. Tono machi is the main street. Deborah and I wandered down it. For a while we wondered what it was that made Tsuwano so special. But then we started coming across the old buildings. The street is narrow, filled with Japanese tourists, and the old buildings are of blackened wood and white plaster with tile roofs. We entered a sake shop in an old building. Then a shop of beautiful wonders, pottery and wood and many tasteful (and expensive) souvenirs. Out the back of the shop was a lovely garden. And there was one of those tables. Most of the Japanese things I've found easy to resist. But these tables are made of a single giant slab of wood, very long, the edges rough, following the original contours of the wood. Magnificent. Weigh a ton. On base there are semi-annual bazaars to which vendors come from all over Asia, bringing antiques, chotchkes, and also these long, rough tables which are so gorgeous. Deborah agreed.
Off down the street. For a while the fun consisted of these old buildings, of which there were many. But then as we approached the river -- little rivers are everywhere in Japan -- the street was lined with narrow canals -- a meter wide -- filled with carp -- white, orange, gray -- and behind the canals, walls and gates -- and behind the walls, old samurai houses with their gardens -- a lovely stretch of road -- Deborah and I snapped picture after picture -- wandered through old blackened huge gate-doors into gardens and shrines -- there was a little gothic Catholic church -- I had been cranky during the morning -- but now I mellowed -- I felt happy, at peace -- I felt wonderful really -- it was hard to say why -- and I didn't need to -- I felt lovely -- I asked Deborah hadn't we mellowed -- well you're more wide awake, she said -- evidently she wasn't feeling the same -- I was carried back to some other time - this is why you come to Tsuwano -- there's magic in the air -- we came to the bridge -- there's neat stuff on the other side, too -- but I'll be back -- we needed to head back -- so as not to be driving in unknown mountains on little highways for the first time in the dark -- but our eye was caught by a great stone torii guarding the entrance to a little alley lined with shops on one side, disappearing around a corner, with a pretty shrine roof visible back there somewhere -- we thought we'd just check it out before turning back -- I found another little present -- the most lovely small pottery bowl of red clay with a glaze to die for -- translucent, celadon over the red clay, become many colors, cracked, not ¥30,000, like the ones in the old store, but ¥500! I bought one. The bowl is so beautiful it makes me want to be a better person. We wandered down the alley. At the end of it, a smaller stone torii leading into a garden along the river. To our right the alley went past the shrine, a stone wall, a wooden building, what looked like a bronze roof. I stayed and took pictures out front. Deborah wandered in and never emerged. I waited and waited. I surmised she'd found glories. But I didn't want to see them yet. Next trip. It was time to go. I wandered back up the alley. I sat and waited outside the little souvenir store. Finally I went looking for her. She came around the back of the shrine. "You've got to come see this."--"I knew you'd found glories," I said. But I wouldn't go see. I think this shrine in the valley is connected via the toriis to the shrine way up the mountain. She'd found something. It awaits my return. We took a parallel street back the way we'd come.
A note on the carp. They outnumber the humans 10 to 1. They were originally placed there as a food reserve against famine.
We were the only non-Japanese there all day -- till the end near the shrine another couple -- out here the Japanese look at you - even in the arcade in Yamaguchi the women would look at us and laugh and talk excitedly to their companions -- some would bow and laugh in a nice way -- one woman passed us by and said, "Good morning" -- Deborah said the men really looked her over -- I don't think I got as many looks -- Japanese women are many of them thin -- Deborah is shapely -- but we both got looks that we don't get in Iwakuni or in larger cities
Ogai Mori's house is in Tsuwano.
Do they speak English out there? Not so much. Or, no.
Then came the difficult part -- driving two hours straight across Honshu. At one point we were ten clicks from the Japan Sea. But we turned the other way, took highway 187 winding through the mountains. This time there were no rest stops, to towns, just a few hamlets, mountains, and windy roads. About half way across we entered the valley of the Nishiki river and followed it for miles home to Iwakuni. There came a sea change in the feel of things. In the middle, toward the Japan Sea, there had been a sense of peace and beauty. Now that evaporated. There was something meaner as we drove along the Nishiki toward Iwakuni. Eventually we saw the sign for the Sanyo Expressway, which was where we'd gotten on twelve hours before. We had made a big circle. The whole road back took two hours. It was six o'clock, dark. I wanted a meal to cap off our experience, but Deborah was exhausted and I dropped her off at her quarters. I dined alone at the club, reading the Inland Sea by Donald Richie.
Here I am in Yamaguchi Prefecture, southern-most in Honshu. It's here I want to explore before I head in all directions. I'm reading the Inland Sea by Richie, in preparation for heading that direction. I'm curious about central Honshu and the north. But first let's talk the West. Here on base we're told take the train. It's easier. The roads---avoid them. And anyway it's easy to see the roads don't go everywhere. Chugoku is not very wide. And yet there are not so many highways that cut across. Japan has surprisingly few highways. There's a lot of mountains in the way. The Chugoku Expressway runs down the middle of Chugoku from Osaka to Shimonoseki. Then there's highways that skirt the coast. Relatively few cut across from Inland Sea to Japan Sea. I live on the Inland Sea. I read that the Japan Sea coast is remote. And it certainly looks hard to get to. In short, I want to explore Yamaguchi, but it seems daunting. Go inland on local highways and take your life in your hands.
I've been using the Rough Guide. It tells of relatively few things in Yamaguchi-ken worth seeing. And there's huge gaps between destinations. Other guide books have even less to say. I get it in my head I want to go to Yamaguchi-shi next, that's Yamaguchi City, capitol of Yamaguchi-ken. I want to go to Tsuwano, I want to go to Hagi. The men behind the Meiji Restoration were from Yamaguchi-ken, did you know that? I want to drive across the island which is enticingly narrow down here. So off I went with a friend, Deborah, the elementary school nurse. She'd new this year, too. We both felt the same way. Life in the States was stultifying. Living in Japan is a breath of fresh air. We both miss our families, though. Her Mom's dead, my Mom is getting older. I have sisters in the states, a brother, nieces, aunts, cousins. But they're all over. One of my sisters is a Japan afficionado. She dreams of Japan. She loves sumo, ukiyo-e, kendo, early twentieth century Japanese novelists, the whole history. I also have a dream of Japan, the world-dream, the world that I find and create here.
Anyhoo, Deborah and I found and took the Sanyo Expressway from Iwakuni to Yamaguchi-shi. I'd never been on the Japanese Expressways before. I sort of had the feeling that it would be a strange and daunting adventure. Perhaps the entrances would be weird, and I'd take the wrong one, and go the wrong way. Or perhaps I might come across the end of the Earth and fall off. There might not be turnouts, rest stops, Western toilets, only Japanese toilets, mere porcelain holes in the ground, without toilet paper. Also, it was the first time I'd driven my new-used car on a road trip. The people on base here treat cars differently than people in the States. Everyone drives a used car, all of them cost about $3000, you buy one quickly. I'd bought a white 2000 Honda Capa, which was the first car I could fit in. And it allowed me to sit up without my head hitting the ceiling and see out without my eyes looking straight at the top of the windshield. In short, it reminded me somewhat of my Ford Ranger 1996. A friend of mine called it a milk truck. It's described as a sub-compact, but somehow it's roomy. I had a Daihatsu like that once. But how would the Capa drive on the highway?
It turns out that roads are roads. Once we negotiated the toll booth, which was not in English (don't get in the ETC lane), we did just fine on the Expressway. The top speed on the Expressway, and in all of Japan, is 80 km/hr. Japan is not Germany when it comes to speed limits. However, the Japanese blithely ignored them, and went 90, 100, or 120 kph. Not Johanys. The Capa seemed to swerve a little at speed, but actually handled well on curves. There were plenty of turnouts. There were big rest stops with all the amenities. There were Western toilets and toilet paper. I bought gas for double the U.S. and military rate here. It must have cost $5 or $6 per gallon. The Capa gets 40 miles to the gallon, so we drove all day and used half a tank of gas--5 gallons. We never did reach the ends of the Earth. There were lots of long tunnels. Misty mountains all around. You could see the sea off to the South. We merged with the Chugoku Expressway, got off at Ogori, took highway 9 north about 10 clicks and there we were in Yamaguchi. It took about 2 hours total. The toll was ¥26500.
Yamaguchi is a bit sleepy. Our ostensible goal there was the flea market held in a downtown park every first Sunday of the month. There must have been a hundred vendors, and hundreds of customers. There were old coins, old pottery, lots of fabric swatches which attracted the Japanese, old kimonos, old military uniforms and paraphernalia, beat up chotchkes and furniture. The stuff was pricey, and junky. A shiny Japanese bugle was ¥13,000, $125. No way. Off in one corner, an old man had a blanket on the ground and some little things, and I saw a pretty wood vase with a flower design for ¥300, less than $3. I knew it was for me. I hadn't eaten, there was a Danish stand (Japanese Danish), I asked the vendor for an apple turnover, he spoke Japanese at me rapid patter, obviously offering to cut one up and place it on the free plate for me. Two middle-age ladies were laughing at him and me. He ostentaciously offered them to me, they laughed, then he thanked me, and I thanked him back, and the ladies laughed even harder, saying, "Dozo". All very good fun. I did see a few marines in civvies, one with missing arm, looking at samurai swords. After a while the Japanese vendor chased them off roughly. One of the marines, the armless one, caught my eye and shrugged.
After we'd done the flea market, it was still morning. We ate in the downtown shopping arcade in a Japanese restaurant. We had to take off our shoes and eat at the upstairs counter overlooking the arcade, since all the tables were sit on the floor type. Each table was in its own little alcove with curtains and screens. There were wells to place your feet so you could actually sit up, but Deborah wanted a chair. The place was all wood, and we ate the typical ten-plate or bowl fixed price meal for a very good price, ¥1000. There is no tipping in Japan.
The day was young. I wanted to spend more time in Yamaguchi, but I'd come back later and meander. I hadn't told Deborah about Tsuwano or Hagi. She was disappointed with the flea market. Was she interested in further adventures? Let's go to Tsuwano! says I. Where is it? Oh, about an hour or hour and a half into the moutains. Long as you get me get home alive, says she. So we headed out of town highway 9 north. Immediately there were fewer cars. We drove along river valleys, low mountains on both sides, one narrow valley seeming to lead to another, passing pretty villages and riding along pleasant rivers. This was truly rural Japan, emerald fields, blackgreen mountains. There were lovely rest stops along rivers with multiple places to stop and eat. Eventually we entered deeper into the mountains. There were windy roads, steep ascents, cliffs at road's edge you could fall down thousands of feet. Suddenly we were there. On our left, down in a valley, off the beaten track, a small town---Tsuwano.
We headed down, under a great red torii leading precipitously into the narrow valley. Across on the other slope hundreds or thousands of gaudy vermilion toriis wound up the hill from the town to a shinto shrine high in the hills. Somewhere above the shrine was the castle. Swiftly we were down in the town. We parked at the train station. Parking is cheap in these towns, a hundred yen ($1) an hour. It was a Japanese holiday, and we saw a number of buses letting off Japanese tourists to wander the streets for a while.
The place to start looking around is Tono machi, says the guide book. Tono machi is the main street. Deborah and I wandered down it. For a while we wondered what it was that made Tsuwano so special. But then we started coming across the old buildings. The street is narrow, filled with Japanese tourists, and the old buildings are of blackened wood and white plaster with tile roofs. We entered a sake shop in an old building. Then a shop of beautiful wonders, pottery and wood and many tasteful (and expensive) souvenirs. Out the back of the shop was a lovely garden. And there was one of those tables. Most of the Japanese things I've found easy to resist. But these tables are made of a single giant slab of wood, very long, the edges rough, following the original contours of the wood. Magnificent. Weigh a ton. On base there are semi-annual bazaars to which vendors come from all over Asia, bringing antiques, chotchkes, and also these long, rough tables which are so gorgeous. Deborah agreed.
Off down the street. For a while the fun consisted of these old buildings, of which there were many. But then as we approached the river -- little rivers are everywhere in Japan -- the street was lined with narrow canals -- a meter wide -- filled with carp -- white, orange, gray -- and behind the canals, walls and gates -- and behind the walls, old samurai houses with their gardens -- a lovely stretch of road -- Deborah and I snapped picture after picture -- wandered through old blackened huge gate-doors into gardens and shrines -- there was a little gothic Catholic church -- I had been cranky during the morning -- but now I mellowed -- I felt happy, at peace -- I felt wonderful really -- it was hard to say why -- and I didn't need to -- I felt lovely -- I asked Deborah hadn't we mellowed -- well you're more wide awake, she said -- evidently she wasn't feeling the same -- I was carried back to some other time - this is why you come to Tsuwano -- there's magic in the air -- we came to the bridge -- there's neat stuff on the other side, too -- but I'll be back -- we needed to head back -- so as not to be driving in unknown mountains on little highways for the first time in the dark -- but our eye was caught by a great stone torii guarding the entrance to a little alley lined with shops on one side, disappearing around a corner, with a pretty shrine roof visible back there somewhere -- we thought we'd just check it out before turning back -- I found another little present -- the most lovely small pottery bowl of red clay with a glaze to die for -- translucent, celadon over the red clay, become many colors, cracked, not ¥30,000, like the ones in the old store, but ¥500! I bought one. The bowl is so beautiful it makes me want to be a better person. We wandered down the alley. At the end of it, a smaller stone torii leading into a garden along the river. To our right the alley went past the shrine, a stone wall, a wooden building, what looked like a bronze roof. I stayed and took pictures out front. Deborah wandered in and never emerged. I waited and waited. I surmised she'd found glories. But I didn't want to see them yet. Next trip. It was time to go. I wandered back up the alley. I sat and waited outside the little souvenir store. Finally I went looking for her. She came around the back of the shrine. "You've got to come see this."--"I knew you'd found glories," I said. But I wouldn't go see. I think this shrine in the valley is connected via the toriis to the shrine way up the mountain. She'd found something. It awaits my return. We took a parallel street back the way we'd come.
A note on the carp. They outnumber the humans 10 to 1. They were originally placed there as a food reserve against famine.
We were the only non-Japanese there all day -- till the end near the shrine another couple -- out here the Japanese look at you - even in the arcade in Yamaguchi the women would look at us and laugh and talk excitedly to their companions -- some would bow and laugh in a nice way -- one woman passed us by and said, "Good morning" -- Deborah said the men really looked her over -- I don't think I got as many looks -- Japanese women are many of them thin -- Deborah is shapely -- but we both got looks that we don't get in Iwakuni or in larger cities
Ogai Mori's house is in Tsuwano.
Do they speak English out there? Not so much. Or, no.
Then came the difficult part -- driving two hours straight across Honshu. At one point we were ten clicks from the Japan Sea. But we turned the other way, took highway 187 winding through the mountains. This time there were no rest stops, to towns, just a few hamlets, mountains, and windy roads. About half way across we entered the valley of the Nishiki river and followed it for miles home to Iwakuni. There came a sea change in the feel of things. In the middle, toward the Japan Sea, there had been a sense of peace and beauty. Now that evaporated. There was something meaner as we drove along the Nishiki toward Iwakuni. Eventually we saw the sign for the Sanyo Expressway, which was where we'd gotten on twelve hours before. We had made a big circle. The whole road back took two hours. It was six o'clock, dark. I wanted a meal to cap off our experience, but Deborah was exhausted and I dropped her off at her quarters. I dined alone at the club, reading the Inland Sea by Donald Richie.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Hiroshima
I went to the big city this weekend. The big city hereabouts is Hiroshima. It's the biggest city in Chugoku, often translated as Western Honshu. Until I got here I looked at a map and saw a country that stretched from north to south. But the Japanese see their land, particulary Honshu, as stretching east to west. Kenko a while back speaks of "rude easterners". Nowadays the rural people include those of Chugoku. I live in Iwakuni, 100,000 souls, "rural Japan". Chugoku also means China. In fact, the first two characters Chu and Go are the ones used today by China herself as her name, Jung Guo. So, I live in the "China" part of Japan!
Anyway, Hiroshima. I figured, why did the good Lord put me here, in this part of Japan? Instead of seeing the great cities of the east, I ought start with the smaller cities and the countryside of the west. It was my birthday weekend, all my afternoon and late morning kids were on sports trips Friday, so I took 4 hrs leave and packed and took the train to Hiroshima.
I'd already been there once. Took the train up, ate in the train station, took the train back. Sort of a training wheels trip. It takes about 45 minutes for a local and 30 minutes for an express train. Coming into Hiroshima from the south, you see Miyajima, the shrine island, and you can even see the O-torii from the train. Then you see all the skyscraper apartments, the spread of the city across the hills, and you realize, this is a big city. A million people. Then you start crossing the rivers. I love the rivers, and Hiroshima has a dozen or so. Big, beautiful rivers. You come to the station. You take one of the 7 tram routes into the city. I got off at Chuden-mae, my stop, and immediately passersby asked me where I was headed, the SunRoute hotel, and gave me directions. My hotel was right on the Ota river (Motayasu branch) next to a bridge that crossed to the Peace Park. Checked in at the rate arranged by the base travel agency. My room seventh floor. Overlooking the river, and the bridge to the Peace Park. I could see the fountain and the museum from my window. Directly below, one on each bank, were houseboats used as restaurants. Beautiful views! The city was so manifestly at peace. There was greenery on both sides the river, everything was bright and clean.
Tired as I was, having not slept well the night before, I headed for the Peace Park. I refreshed with ice cream from the Peace Museum lounge, then visited the cenotaph, which directs your vision to the A-bomb dome. It's a terrible name for a building; I even prefer the previous name, Industrial Promotion Hall. Next I headed past some lovely cypress and a pool and a flame to the dome itself. Everywhere was park and greenery and the lovely river, a city on a Friday pursuing its private business, and I could not conjure dire emotions. 1945 did not come alive for me. Never again, I agree. It almost seemed like Paris, the many bridges, all the people out strolling, not the visitors to the memorial alone but the citizens of the city, leading their lives. I took many pictures of the dome. Somehow geographically it lies at the center of that part of town. I kept using it as the center of my tour just as it lay at the center of the attack so long ago. In fact, it sits next to the T-bridge, which was supposedly the aiming point for the American bomber that August day. The bomb did not destroy the bridge, which lasted after repairs till I think 1983. Then the current bridge was built. Everything is beautiful about the dome. There are groves and shrines and a green sward and the river. You could not say the damage was done by a certain kind of bomb. It looks pretty bad. But it could have been a terrorist bomb or fire bombing or even a terrible fire. It seemed very at peace to me that Friday afternoon.
I won't go into the Hiroshima politics. Certainly I think we should never use them again. I should mention in preparation for coming to Hiroshima I read Ogura's Letters from the End of the World, and what I got out of the book was incredibly hope and peace - that so many survived, that the green came back within a year, Ogura lived to almost a hundred. It's not that I ignore what happened. All my life I've known about it. But now Hiroshima is at peace. May she remain so. And may we the living do what we must do to ensure it.
I wanted to see the "jo", that is, the castle. The tour book suggests skipping it if you've seen the great ones to the east, but I hadn't seen any, so I walked up river, then across a magnificent field, then Hiroshima-jo. The pictures tell all. Back across the great field Chuo-koen (next to very high rise apartments), down the river green sward, to my hotel. At the end of Chuo-koen I came to a walled Chinese garden not mentioned in the tourbook, by the river. I went in. I was so relieved to be alone in the midst of this beautiful garden. I felt that I was in a retreat. This is how to live, one can step out of the world and let it drop away sometimes. That night I ate in the Kanaka Oyster Restaurant on the river below. Eleven courses, every one oysters. Mmmmmm! The best might have been the first, raw oysters. Big, fat, juicy, tasty oysters, one of Hiroshima's specialities. The other being noodles and veges etc. layered in thin pancakes. Also nice. The waitress, a young woman, was Chinese, from Harbin, studying economics at university here. Harbin is cold, she said. Cost of meal, don't ask. As a friend said, you can spend a lot of money in Japan. The only other table there was of four men, I don't know whether they were a work group or not, but they laughed and caroused and got up and switched about and took pictures of each other, and sat back down and laughed some more. I was struck at how democratic they were - each got to speak and was reverentially listened to. And so to bed.
The next morning I caught the first Peace Park ferry, one bridge up from my hotel, 5 minute walk, to Miyajima. Fortyfive minutes, down the river, out the port, into the Inland Sea, all those islands in mist, to Miyajima. I walked along a shopping street first, rather than rushing to the shrine. Then I came to what amounts to an inlet. The tide was out, and many people were down on the flats about the shrine, some with full panoply of tripod and fancy camera. Well, I took my pictures, too, even if there's already a million pictures of the shrine that are better than mine. I paid my ¥300 and entered the shrine. Now I know what color vermillion is, orange. There is of course a stage upon which sacred No is performed, and there are places where people leave their wishes to be fulfilled, either on white paper which they tie about a line, or wooden paddles which are strung to a wall. I made the mistake of walking over a beautiful vermillion and wood bridge too late realizing I had taken the exit. In fact, I thought I was still in the shrine, walking amidst beautiful gates and temples. I was of course looking for "genuine" chotchke's to send to family - my family is savvy about these things, having lived in East Asia and around the world, so I couldn't just buy anything, even if it were genuine. I bought some little things from a woman at a booth. Are these Shinto? I asked. No, Buddhist. But I thought this was a Shinto Shrine, I said. That's the shrine, she pointed at the vermillion edifice, this is a temple. I looked around, realizing the architecture was indeed more thatchy. Then I looked a little closer and saw in each room of the temple the wonderful expensive things and mostly fierce images of the buddha. One Japanese man tossed a coin in the slats and rubbed the bald head of the effigy there. I did the same. It turns out that there are many temples on Miyajima, including the head temple of one sect of Japanese Buddhism, which is charged with adminstering the Shinto shrine! It really is true that Buddhism and Shinto are hand in hand. Oh, and there are sacred deer everywhere, little deer, "mangy deer" according to a friend. I saw one begin eating a woman's blouse. The deer are like the proverbial bears at Yellowstone, pests accustomed to nip at humans for food.
I wandered back slowly in the sweltering heat through a shopping street - it was an arcade, I guess, with cloth roof, some twenty feet wide, souvenir shops of various sorts on both sides. I bought some little somethings. I came across a much-visited 1050 yen store - everything cost 1050 yen. The fronts of the stores were wide open, one would enter enticed by the frigid air conditioning. There were oysters roasted at store front, and many shops making fish rolls, which didn't look good at that hour, but maybe when I return. Who was at the shrine? Overwhelmingly Japanese. Families and young women, usually in pairs. I glimpsed the 5-story pagoda. I was foot-sore and still tired, I knew I'd be back to Miyajima, so I took the ferry back to Peace Park. From A-bomb dome, I wandered again across the great field to the jo, in search for a famous Chinese garden, Shukkeien. I walked and walked, it came on to rain, first I thought a passing shower, but it rained the rest of the day. I got soaked. I must allow myself to do a better job of using trams and buses in traveling, instead of dogging it out. I way passed Shukkeien, it was raining hard, I came to a river and crossed and recrossed, knowing I'd gone too far, wandered down along it returning heading for a mass of woods which I thought must be Shukkeien. Finally I arrived at this modern building, lounge and art library, and restaurant, and cafe, and you name it, and air conditioning! It was still raining steadily outside, and I was soaked. I sat, then I went out the back into the garden and the rain. One thing the rain would likely have done, lower the incidence of people! The garden was made to appear wild groves, with paths, lakes, hills, one side along the river, little dark red crabs everywhere, little houses, which you weren't allowed into (come on, it's raining!), and a deck on the water with a roof, and I found atop a little hillock a circular bench with a round roof which I had all to myself, and so gladly sat out of the rain and using my towel - you see people carrying their hand towels with them - to wipe the sweat which pours out of you - and to dry oneself in the rain! I took some pictures. It rained harder. Finally a woman came skipping around with blue umbrellas, we were rescued - yes, there were others wandering around in the rain. I walked home. Ate in the hotel's Italian restaurant. Amusing cross of Italian and Japanese. Mother next to me most embarrassed that her baby was crying, finally fed him/her from the breast, American man next to her being as tactfully non-observant as possible.
I came home early Sunday on the train. Guess what? Round trip tickets are only good for two days. This was the third day. Extra 740¥. Live and learn. Took a taxi to my rooms in the TLF, temporary quarters. I had walked to the train station the first day. Once was enough. I could have caught the bus, but then I'd still have to walk from the road to my quarters, a mile, dragging my suitcase.
Was I done for the weekend? Oh, no! I forgot to mention after getting back from Miyajima I went to Sogo's, the great department store. I never shopped in the States. Somehow now it seems like my duty. First to the top floor where were many restaurants, each with its plastic food offerings out front. I looked at every one, some twenty, was intrigued by the buffet style of one. Sat on chairs outside playing musical chairs awaiting my turn. Afterwards I walked the entire department store, just looking. Some wonderful craft things on one floor that the Japanese were crammed about. It was a Japanese holiday, and I think the Jappanese were buying gifts to give upon returning home or some time. Pricey items, pottery, fabrics, slippers, food boxes, etc. Then I went across the street to DeoDeo, the electronic store, to fondle cameras, see which ones fit in my hand. An Irish couple looking for a starter SLR, and completely unsure what to buy. So I launched into a Nikon sales pitch. I thought their choice was between the D40, D40x, and the D80. I don't know the Canon's. Sales girl thanked me profusely. When I left, the couple were still pinging between the D40, D40x, and the D80. You can't go wrong with any of them! I said in goodbye. That's a relief, said the fellow. Good luck, sez I. Thanks, we need it, rejoined fellow, beard, thirtyish.
At Sogo's I found a bookstore! I want maps. I found bilingual maps of Iwakuni, my town, Hiroshima, and Kyoto! Cheap. Japan is not as expensive as people say. Okay, you can spend a forturne. But I ordered the Shohunsha Japan Road Atlas from Omni Maps in the states for 44.95 plus shipping. At Sogo's it was ¥2395! Half as much! I wanted to cry. Armed with maps, I drove off base this afternoon, the afternoon of my return, turned left on 188, and drove 30km south, to Yanai, past the bridge to Oshima. The tour book says this coast is blighted with industry, but for much of the drive we were right on the water, my car and I, right on the sea, that is, looking out at the myriad lumpy shapes (okay, my description of the islands is not "sublime" like Donald Richey's) covered in dark trees, half-lost in mist, no houses at all or only a thin strip of houses along the highway - this is the national route - not the expressway which costs serious money - but the expressway doesn't go along the sea - it's so wonderful to be driving here, the day coming to an end, and the houses only a couple of feet off the highway. Yanai lies at the southernmost point of Honshu. It's true there is some major industry after a while, and the whole of Yanai smelled of "cabbage". I passed a Kleenex - Scottie plant a bit north of there. But it's also the Inland Sea. Somewhere out there are Shikoku and Kyushu.
The reason for the road trip was to prepare me to go south next. The good Lord put me in Yamaguchi Prefecture so I want to explore it. I want to go to Yamaguchi, Tsuwano, and Hagi. Or shall I go to Ehime, Matsuyama, and Shikoku next via ferry or bridge? I felt so good coming back from the big city, and now as it grew dark I approached Iwakuni and saw the sushi place - two easy hiragana - and stopped. My first solo eating out in town. I've been eating at the base club. It's gotten old. It's a fishbowl here, everyone knows everyone, the food is okay but I've eaten it! The sushi place was chockablock with people waiting, all Japanese, with an American man with his Japanese family the only exception, the place one of those circulating counter types with the sushi placed on the conveyor belt, but on a big scale, a hundred people in the room.
I went off base too to start looking for a house. Also I want to acclimate bit by bit to being in Japan. I'm so in love with being here. I want to learn the language - still working on recognizing the hiragana. I want to get out and see the country. In a way it's nice to start small with the West, before working up to the capitols up east. I want to see the Japan Sea coast - the San-in coast. I've wanted to ever since reading Snow Country by Kawabata. And for those of you in my line of spirituality, the islands half-lost in mist reminded me of Lemuria. It must be that Japan has some of that energy, especially the inland sea.
Anyway, Hiroshima. I figured, why did the good Lord put me here, in this part of Japan? Instead of seeing the great cities of the east, I ought start with the smaller cities and the countryside of the west. It was my birthday weekend, all my afternoon and late morning kids were on sports trips Friday, so I took 4 hrs leave and packed and took the train to Hiroshima.
I'd already been there once. Took the train up, ate in the train station, took the train back. Sort of a training wheels trip. It takes about 45 minutes for a local and 30 minutes for an express train. Coming into Hiroshima from the south, you see Miyajima, the shrine island, and you can even see the O-torii from the train. Then you see all the skyscraper apartments, the spread of the city across the hills, and you realize, this is a big city. A million people. Then you start crossing the rivers. I love the rivers, and Hiroshima has a dozen or so. Big, beautiful rivers. You come to the station. You take one of the 7 tram routes into the city. I got off at Chuden-mae, my stop, and immediately passersby asked me where I was headed, the SunRoute hotel, and gave me directions. My hotel was right on the Ota river (Motayasu branch) next to a bridge that crossed to the Peace Park. Checked in at the rate arranged by the base travel agency. My room seventh floor. Overlooking the river, and the bridge to the Peace Park. I could see the fountain and the museum from my window. Directly below, one on each bank, were houseboats used as restaurants. Beautiful views! The city was so manifestly at peace. There was greenery on both sides the river, everything was bright and clean.
Tired as I was, having not slept well the night before, I headed for the Peace Park. I refreshed with ice cream from the Peace Museum lounge, then visited the cenotaph, which directs your vision to the A-bomb dome. It's a terrible name for a building; I even prefer the previous name, Industrial Promotion Hall. Next I headed past some lovely cypress and a pool and a flame to the dome itself. Everywhere was park and greenery and the lovely river, a city on a Friday pursuing its private business, and I could not conjure dire emotions. 1945 did not come alive for me. Never again, I agree. It almost seemed like Paris, the many bridges, all the people out strolling, not the visitors to the memorial alone but the citizens of the city, leading their lives. I took many pictures of the dome. Somehow geographically it lies at the center of that part of town. I kept using it as the center of my tour just as it lay at the center of the attack so long ago. In fact, it sits next to the T-bridge, which was supposedly the aiming point for the American bomber that August day. The bomb did not destroy the bridge, which lasted after repairs till I think 1983. Then the current bridge was built. Everything is beautiful about the dome. There are groves and shrines and a green sward and the river. You could not say the damage was done by a certain kind of bomb. It looks pretty bad. But it could have been a terrorist bomb or fire bombing or even a terrible fire. It seemed very at peace to me that Friday afternoon.
I won't go into the Hiroshima politics. Certainly I think we should never use them again. I should mention in preparation for coming to Hiroshima I read Ogura's Letters from the End of the World, and what I got out of the book was incredibly hope and peace - that so many survived, that the green came back within a year, Ogura lived to almost a hundred. It's not that I ignore what happened. All my life I've known about it. But now Hiroshima is at peace. May she remain so. And may we the living do what we must do to ensure it.
I wanted to see the "jo", that is, the castle. The tour book suggests skipping it if you've seen the great ones to the east, but I hadn't seen any, so I walked up river, then across a magnificent field, then Hiroshima-jo. The pictures tell all. Back across the great field Chuo-koen (next to very high rise apartments), down the river green sward, to my hotel. At the end of Chuo-koen I came to a walled Chinese garden not mentioned in the tourbook, by the river. I went in. I was so relieved to be alone in the midst of this beautiful garden. I felt that I was in a retreat. This is how to live, one can step out of the world and let it drop away sometimes. That night I ate in the Kanaka Oyster Restaurant on the river below. Eleven courses, every one oysters. Mmmmmm! The best might have been the first, raw oysters. Big, fat, juicy, tasty oysters, one of Hiroshima's specialities. The other being noodles and veges etc. layered in thin pancakes. Also nice. The waitress, a young woman, was Chinese, from Harbin, studying economics at university here. Harbin is cold, she said. Cost of meal, don't ask. As a friend said, you can spend a lot of money in Japan. The only other table there was of four men, I don't know whether they were a work group or not, but they laughed and caroused and got up and switched about and took pictures of each other, and sat back down and laughed some more. I was struck at how democratic they were - each got to speak and was reverentially listened to. And so to bed.
The next morning I caught the first Peace Park ferry, one bridge up from my hotel, 5 minute walk, to Miyajima. Fortyfive minutes, down the river, out the port, into the Inland Sea, all those islands in mist, to Miyajima. I walked along a shopping street first, rather than rushing to the shrine. Then I came to what amounts to an inlet. The tide was out, and many people were down on the flats about the shrine, some with full panoply of tripod and fancy camera. Well, I took my pictures, too, even if there's already a million pictures of the shrine that are better than mine. I paid my ¥300 and entered the shrine. Now I know what color vermillion is, orange. There is of course a stage upon which sacred No is performed, and there are places where people leave their wishes to be fulfilled, either on white paper which they tie about a line, or wooden paddles which are strung to a wall. I made the mistake of walking over a beautiful vermillion and wood bridge too late realizing I had taken the exit. In fact, I thought I was still in the shrine, walking amidst beautiful gates and temples. I was of course looking for "genuine" chotchke's to send to family - my family is savvy about these things, having lived in East Asia and around the world, so I couldn't just buy anything, even if it were genuine. I bought some little things from a woman at a booth. Are these Shinto? I asked. No, Buddhist. But I thought this was a Shinto Shrine, I said. That's the shrine, she pointed at the vermillion edifice, this is a temple. I looked around, realizing the architecture was indeed more thatchy. Then I looked a little closer and saw in each room of the temple the wonderful expensive things and mostly fierce images of the buddha. One Japanese man tossed a coin in the slats and rubbed the bald head of the effigy there. I did the same. It turns out that there are many temples on Miyajima, including the head temple of one sect of Japanese Buddhism, which is charged with adminstering the Shinto shrine! It really is true that Buddhism and Shinto are hand in hand. Oh, and there are sacred deer everywhere, little deer, "mangy deer" according to a friend. I saw one begin eating a woman's blouse. The deer are like the proverbial bears at Yellowstone, pests accustomed to nip at humans for food.
I wandered back slowly in the sweltering heat through a shopping street - it was an arcade, I guess, with cloth roof, some twenty feet wide, souvenir shops of various sorts on both sides. I bought some little somethings. I came across a much-visited 1050 yen store - everything cost 1050 yen. The fronts of the stores were wide open, one would enter enticed by the frigid air conditioning. There were oysters roasted at store front, and many shops making fish rolls, which didn't look good at that hour, but maybe when I return. Who was at the shrine? Overwhelmingly Japanese. Families and young women, usually in pairs. I glimpsed the 5-story pagoda. I was foot-sore and still tired, I knew I'd be back to Miyajima, so I took the ferry back to Peace Park. From A-bomb dome, I wandered again across the great field to the jo, in search for a famous Chinese garden, Shukkeien. I walked and walked, it came on to rain, first I thought a passing shower, but it rained the rest of the day. I got soaked. I must allow myself to do a better job of using trams and buses in traveling, instead of dogging it out. I way passed Shukkeien, it was raining hard, I came to a river and crossed and recrossed, knowing I'd gone too far, wandered down along it returning heading for a mass of woods which I thought must be Shukkeien. Finally I arrived at this modern building, lounge and art library, and restaurant, and cafe, and you name it, and air conditioning! It was still raining steadily outside, and I was soaked. I sat, then I went out the back into the garden and the rain. One thing the rain would likely have done, lower the incidence of people! The garden was made to appear wild groves, with paths, lakes, hills, one side along the river, little dark red crabs everywhere, little houses, which you weren't allowed into (come on, it's raining!), and a deck on the water with a roof, and I found atop a little hillock a circular bench with a round roof which I had all to myself, and so gladly sat out of the rain and using my towel - you see people carrying their hand towels with them - to wipe the sweat which pours out of you - and to dry oneself in the rain! I took some pictures. It rained harder. Finally a woman came skipping around with blue umbrellas, we were rescued - yes, there were others wandering around in the rain. I walked home. Ate in the hotel's Italian restaurant. Amusing cross of Italian and Japanese. Mother next to me most embarrassed that her baby was crying, finally fed him/her from the breast, American man next to her being as tactfully non-observant as possible.
I came home early Sunday on the train. Guess what? Round trip tickets are only good for two days. This was the third day. Extra 740¥. Live and learn. Took a taxi to my rooms in the TLF, temporary quarters. I had walked to the train station the first day. Once was enough. I could have caught the bus, but then I'd still have to walk from the road to my quarters, a mile, dragging my suitcase.
Was I done for the weekend? Oh, no! I forgot to mention after getting back from Miyajima I went to Sogo's, the great department store. I never shopped in the States. Somehow now it seems like my duty. First to the top floor where were many restaurants, each with its plastic food offerings out front. I looked at every one, some twenty, was intrigued by the buffet style of one. Sat on chairs outside playing musical chairs awaiting my turn. Afterwards I walked the entire department store, just looking. Some wonderful craft things on one floor that the Japanese were crammed about. It was a Japanese holiday, and I think the Jappanese were buying gifts to give upon returning home or some time. Pricey items, pottery, fabrics, slippers, food boxes, etc. Then I went across the street to DeoDeo, the electronic store, to fondle cameras, see which ones fit in my hand. An Irish couple looking for a starter SLR, and completely unsure what to buy. So I launched into a Nikon sales pitch. I thought their choice was between the D40, D40x, and the D80. I don't know the Canon's. Sales girl thanked me profusely. When I left, the couple were still pinging between the D40, D40x, and the D80. You can't go wrong with any of them! I said in goodbye. That's a relief, said the fellow. Good luck, sez I. Thanks, we need it, rejoined fellow, beard, thirtyish.
At Sogo's I found a bookstore! I want maps. I found bilingual maps of Iwakuni, my town, Hiroshima, and Kyoto! Cheap. Japan is not as expensive as people say. Okay, you can spend a forturne. But I ordered the Shohunsha Japan Road Atlas from Omni Maps in the states for 44.95 plus shipping. At Sogo's it was ¥2395! Half as much! I wanted to cry. Armed with maps, I drove off base this afternoon, the afternoon of my return, turned left on 188, and drove 30km south, to Yanai, past the bridge to Oshima. The tour book says this coast is blighted with industry, but for much of the drive we were right on the water, my car and I, right on the sea, that is, looking out at the myriad lumpy shapes (okay, my description of the islands is not "sublime" like Donald Richey's) covered in dark trees, half-lost in mist, no houses at all or only a thin strip of houses along the highway - this is the national route - not the expressway which costs serious money - but the expressway doesn't go along the sea - it's so wonderful to be driving here, the day coming to an end, and the houses only a couple of feet off the highway. Yanai lies at the southernmost point of Honshu. It's true there is some major industry after a while, and the whole of Yanai smelled of "cabbage". I passed a Kleenex - Scottie plant a bit north of there. But it's also the Inland Sea. Somewhere out there are Shikoku and Kyushu.
The reason for the road trip was to prepare me to go south next. The good Lord put me in Yamaguchi Prefecture so I want to explore it. I want to go to Yamaguchi, Tsuwano, and Hagi. Or shall I go to Ehime, Matsuyama, and Shikoku next via ferry or bridge? I felt so good coming back from the big city, and now as it grew dark I approached Iwakuni and saw the sushi place - two easy hiragana - and stopped. My first solo eating out in town. I've been eating at the base club. It's gotten old. It's a fishbowl here, everyone knows everyone, the food is okay but I've eaten it! The sushi place was chockablock with people waiting, all Japanese, with an American man with his Japanese family the only exception, the place one of those circulating counter types with the sushi placed on the conveyor belt, but on a big scale, a hundred people in the room.
I went off base too to start looking for a house. Also I want to acclimate bit by bit to being in Japan. I'm so in love with being here. I want to learn the language - still working on recognizing the hiragana. I want to get out and see the country. In a way it's nice to start small with the West, before working up to the capitols up east. I want to see the Japan Sea coast - the San-in coast. I've wanted to ever since reading Snow Country by Kawabata. And for those of you in my line of spirituality, the islands half-lost in mist reminded me of Lemuria. It must be that Japan has some of that energy, especially the inland sea.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Mountains, II and III
Arrived Narita too late to catch my scheduled flight to Hiroshima. Airline comped me hotel, meals, limos to and from airport, limo to Haneda airport 90 minutes south. Then up in the air again. And more mountains. This time they were black, again line after line of mountain peaks, wholly undeveloped, with thin, very thin long valleys in light green with occasional buildings in between each line of peaks. The Japan Alps. Really lovely. The black turned out to be the blackgreen of trees. No snow. And then flatter land, as we reached the plains of the Kansai. Kyoto and all that. At the airport I was picked up by my assistant principal. Picked up a stray incoming marine, as well. Hour drive south to Iwakuni, Marine Corps Air Station. Turns out assistant principal and I both were field artillery. War stories.
Everywhere hills. Or are they mountains? They aren't developed. The Japanese seem to live here along the borders of the sea. And off to the east, the misty islands of the Inland Sea.
I was dropped at my TLF (temporary lodging). Exhausted. But wanted to walk upon the seawall which someone mentioned. Okay, I don't want to say much about MCAS Iwakuni itself, but just its setting. It's pressed against the sea by the middling town of Iwakuni, and surrounded by a bowl of hill-mountains, dark green, rocky rather than rolling, three sides hills, one side sea. But in the sea, too, are hills---the islands of the Inland Sea---which you can see from the seawall. The seawall is actually part riverwall. The base is on a triangular island, formed by the delta of the River Nishiki which runs by on both sides into the sea. The seawall runs down one branch of the river, around the sea, and back up the other branch of the river. So you can walk for hours on the water. And the sea wind blows. Though I hear sailors call it the land wind. The breeze helps some to mitigate the appalling heat, even at evening. The sun seems more baleful here, it beats down on you as if it's picked you out personally for punishment. I walked out that evening after sunset toward the bend where river becomes sea. Down the sea to the south you could see the end of the peninsula, nearly the southern tip of Honshu, and everywhere smaller islands, one behind the other, in different shades of mist, and somewhere behind them all, Shikoku. I reached the bend. But for some time the most dark thunderstorm had been moving toward the base along the coast from the north, fat long thunderbolts of lightning remaining in the sky as if making statements of puissance. And behind me in the mountains other thunderstorms thundered and struck. Gorgeous dark skies. The temperature dropped. But I didn't want to get zapped my first night here, I felt naked out there alone, I turned for home, two miles away. In the end the thunderstorms didn't hit the base. The one system passed down the sea to the south. The others remained in the mountains. Night came on.
My TLF is the expensive one. $90 a night. I get reimbursed for it. The Nishiki Lodge. It has two rooms connected by a walkthrough kitchen and a bath. Evidently originally meant for two lodgers, but now one room's been converted into a living room. Plenty of space. Furnished. My meeter-greeter left me goodies! In the bedroom are a double bed and a twin bed and in the living room a sofa bed. Whole familes live in these quarters for months. I'm a whole family. The furniture is dark. Two TV's. Air-conditioning AND ceiling fans. Really big closets.
Everywhere hills. Or are they mountains? They aren't developed. The Japanese seem to live here along the borders of the sea. And off to the east, the misty islands of the Inland Sea.
I was dropped at my TLF (temporary lodging). Exhausted. But wanted to walk upon the seawall which someone mentioned. Okay, I don't want to say much about MCAS Iwakuni itself, but just its setting. It's pressed against the sea by the middling town of Iwakuni, and surrounded by a bowl of hill-mountains, dark green, rocky rather than rolling, three sides hills, one side sea. But in the sea, too, are hills---the islands of the Inland Sea---which you can see from the seawall. The seawall is actually part riverwall. The base is on a triangular island, formed by the delta of the River Nishiki which runs by on both sides into the sea. The seawall runs down one branch of the river, around the sea, and back up the other branch of the river. So you can walk for hours on the water. And the sea wind blows. Though I hear sailors call it the land wind. The breeze helps some to mitigate the appalling heat, even at evening. The sun seems more baleful here, it beats down on you as if it's picked you out personally for punishment. I walked out that evening after sunset toward the bend where river becomes sea. Down the sea to the south you could see the end of the peninsula, nearly the southern tip of Honshu, and everywhere smaller islands, one behind the other, in different shades of mist, and somewhere behind them all, Shikoku. I reached the bend. But for some time the most dark thunderstorm had been moving toward the base along the coast from the north, fat long thunderbolts of lightning remaining in the sky as if making statements of puissance. And behind me in the mountains other thunderstorms thundered and struck. Gorgeous dark skies. The temperature dropped. But I didn't want to get zapped my first night here, I felt naked out there alone, I turned for home, two miles away. In the end the thunderstorms didn't hit the base. The one system passed down the sea to the south. The others remained in the mountains. Night came on.
My TLF is the expensive one. $90 a night. I get reimbursed for it. The Nishiki Lodge. It has two rooms connected by a walkthrough kitchen and a bath. Evidently originally meant for two lodgers, but now one room's been converted into a living room. Plenty of space. Furnished. My meeter-greeter left me goodies! In the bedroom are a double bed and a twin bed and in the living room a sofa bed. Whole familes live in these quarters for months. I'm a whole family. The furniture is dark. Two TV's. Air-conditioning AND ceiling fans. Really big closets.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Mountains
Leaving for Japan for two years! The plane was delayed taking off from Dulles because they didn't have a captain. He was being flown into National for some reason and then he was on his way by limo. One hour late. Informed us that he hadn't overslept. I bought a first class upgrade for not really cheap. I had decided to carry my mini and new 20" screen in my luggage. Guess what? Luggage overweight ten pounds. I pulled out books and three pint bottles of shampoo etc. and stuffed illegally into my carry-on. Made my connection in O'Hare only to sit on the plane for 1.5 hours sans air conditioning till all ordered to get off. New plane. At gate one mile away. Got there. Gate changed again. Plane leaves in 2.5 hours. Finally! My seat the last (42H) row in back of plane. Spent most of the time in the galley shooting the breeze with German-origin steward and twentysomething American kid businessmann from Tokyo. German from Stuttgart area; I'd been stationed in the Army there. War stories.
The glory of the trip: thousands of miles of mountain ranges, one after another, going on forever, starting in British Columbia, and stretching across southern Alaska, rivers of glaciers flowing between them. Not a speck of civilization. A wonderful, wonderful, wonderful sight.
Upon arrival at Narita, kids, all headed for a year living with a Japanese family: "That one steward (the German)? Boy was he mean!" "He was mean to me too." I had thought him ironic. Sample comment to me (I'm sitting near Germans and Japanese): "Johanys, you're sitting in the Axis section!" I replied, "It's all one world now."
While waiting in O'Hare, talking to a young Japanese woman, returning home after visiting her American boyfriend in Ohio. From Osaka. Later I said o-SA-ka. She looked at me without understanding. I said it again twice. Same look. Then dawn of understanding. Ah, she said, OH-sa-ka. Accent on first syllable. Much more beautiful.
The glory of the trip: thousands of miles of mountain ranges, one after another, going on forever, starting in British Columbia, and stretching across southern Alaska, rivers of glaciers flowing between them. Not a speck of civilization. A wonderful, wonderful, wonderful sight.
Upon arrival at Narita, kids, all headed for a year living with a Japanese family: "That one steward (the German)? Boy was he mean!" "He was mean to me too." I had thought him ironic. Sample comment to me (I'm sitting near Germans and Japanese): "Johanys, you're sitting in the Axis section!" I replied, "It's all one world now."
While waiting in O'Hare, talking to a young Japanese woman, returning home after visiting her American boyfriend in Ohio. From Osaka. Later I said o-SA-ka. She looked at me without understanding. I said it again twice. Same look. Then dawn of understanding. Ah, she said, OH-sa-ka. Accent on first syllable. Much more beautiful.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)