Adventuretime
Let’s be honest; when I said I was going to spend a month or two sitting still in a boat, writing, reflecting, and planning for my future, we all knew I was full of shit. I’m far too easily distracted to hide under a rock for that long, especially in a place like Japan where there’s so much to see, and so many awesome people to hang out with. The past month has gone by in a blur. Now, I have admittedly written two of four planned short stories (not sure how to publish them…), but my productivity level has not been what I had dreamed. On the other hand, I have seen a lot of cool shit, so I figure I can at least tell y’all about that, no?
Shall we begin with the 1,000 kilometre trip to watch sumo? We all know I like train rides, so I didn’t balk at the six-hour, lightning-fast bullet train (bullet fast?) trip to Fukuoka, on the southern island of Kyushu. I failed to see Mount Fuji out the window because I fell asleep, but on the plus side, I did get a lot of book-planning done, so I consider the ride a win overall. Fukuoka itself turned out to be pretty bland; it was the quietest Japanese city I’ve ever been to, and most Japanese cities are quiet to begin with. Like the zombie apocalypse had blown through, then the zombies ate all the humans and ran out of sustenance and turned into the shambling half-corpses like at the start of Walking Dead, then even they got dusty and decided to call it quits and leave the city to the crows. That was a long sentence but you get the idea.
a day-and-night comparison of the yatais along Nakagawa in Fukuoka
Other than the sumo (getting to it), Fukuoka did have one major redeeming factor: its yatais. Japan is not a street-food country, but Fukuoka bucks that trend with a street-food scene that is so well established that I had trouble believing that the numerous food stalls dotting the city were in fact temporary. Turned out they’re all torn down each night, but you wouldn’t have guessed it wandering down the canal – stands of 6-10 seats surrounding tiny little kitchens served up everything from meat-on-a-stick to ramen to sushi, naturally with a good selection of booze. They had running water and power and gas ranges and plastic curtains against the elements – I wouldn’t have been surprised if they were set up in the spring and taken down when the snow hit (does it snow in Fukuoka?). But walking past the next day, you wouldn’t know that the street had been a veritable kitchen ceilidh the night before; in typical Japanese fashion, everything was taken away, with no detritus left about and not even a grease stain on the sidewalk to prove that delicious pork-belly skewers had been nommed there not ten hours prior. The food was delicious and the vibe was convivial, almost carnival-like. Highly recommended.
view from the nosebleed seats at the Grand Sumo tournament
The Grand Sumo Tournament; hot damn, this was waaayyyyy cooler than I thought it was going to be. I mean, sure, no one says no when asked “would you like to go to a sumo tournament for free?”, but I did not expect a bunch of fat guys slapping each other to be so exciting. The part when they weren’t slapping each other, and were instead just slapping their bellies in the roughly eight-minute preparation period before each match, was not exciting, but that’s what beer’s for. Each actual match typically lasted between three and five seconds (yeah – you wait eight minutes for that), but about a quarter of them turned into epic heavyweight battles that left me astonished as to these dude’s speed and power. A guy dressed like the clown emperor would signal the start, then these two continents of flesh would careen into each other with a Michael Bay crunch, typically bouncing off to slap each other’s face for a few seconds then squat back down into their Herculean attempts to throw, push or trick the opponent out of the ring. I actually saw 500-pound bodies flying through the air. That’s just not something you see every day. The crowd was wild, cursing and hooting and joking like a gaggle of drunks at a curling match, and really added to the whole experience. While it could be frustrating to watch these behemoths strut around the ring in their pre-match ritual for seeming hours, the titanic, explosive fights more than made up for the wait – now I understand why the Japanese go so bonkers for the sport.
sweet photo eh? prints on sale soon
On the way back to Big Bird from Fukuoka, I figured it was about time I finally stopped in with Fuji-san, to pay my respects and get a close-up of Japan’s most famous landmark. Weather and laziness had thwarted my earlier efforts to climb the mountain, but I felt I owed it to the big guy to pop by for a beer at least. As the train approached Fuji, my sense of scale got thrown all out of whack as I began to appreciate just how huge the mountain is. Fuji is an active volcano (the last eruption was in 1707), and as such has the gently-sloping sides of most volcanic mountains, created by generations of layered lava flows. The resulting, gentle profile of the old man makes it hard to appreciate his actual size – only by getting up close and seeing him dwarf the surrounding hills of Shizuoka was I finally able to put a frame on it. Academically, he’s ~3,800m and you can see him from 100 km away in Tokyo (and also from sailboats!); psychologically, he dominates the region, looming over your shoulder like a overly-protective grandparent… one who also threatens to explode occasionally. As I visited in late November the trails were closed for climbing, but with snow capping his peak, I would struggle to define a more iconic image of Japan.
the Tama River, near Mitake
After Fuji, I returned to Big Bird for a few days, then decided to treat myself to a birthday trip into the western hills of Tokyo Prefecture. With some local guidance, I found a traditional old place to stay on Mount Mitake, then spent a cold afternoon hiking in the hills. The early-December colours in Kanto remained vibrant, and with extensive coniferous coverage the landscape felt alive, much more so than the industrial towns underneath Fuji or of course the hustle of Tokyo itself. A quiet night and a sunrise-early morning led me down into an adjacent valley, where the Tama River flowed in an electric green-blue between fireball colours on the shore. Two further hours of hiking along the riverbank found me at the Ozawa Shuzo sake brewery, a 300-year old establishment that gives free tours (not in English). The experience was brief, but it was nerd-pleasing to see how the brewery has grown up around its original buildings in a very-typically Japanese melding of old and new. The sake tasting at the end of the tour had nothing, of course, to do with my glowing impression of the whole trip.
view of Fuji from the beach in Enoshima
Next came a two-day jaunt to the seaside towns Enoshima and Kamakura. I’ve visited both before, briefly, but with the fall colours so prevalent I wanted to spend a bit more time wandering around Japan’s least-famous old capital. One of the characters in my book hails from Kamakura, in the time of its rise during the early Shogunate period (~12th c.), so I was hoping to get a better feel for the history of the place. Unfortunately, the city has been largely converted into a tourist trap aimed at Westerners, and much of it felt more like Oregon than Japan. I saw the big buddha and the bamboo forest, and in between I saw a lot of Hawaiian themed cafes and craft-beer-burger joints. Enoshima, the actual island, makes for a fun hill-climb, especially off-season when not jammed with tourists, but the famous dragon cave was closed due to typhoon damage. Sadface. Easily the most enjoyable part of the visit was the view of Fuji from the beach – with no humidity in the winter air, the mountain was clearly visible looming in the background of Sagami Bay, and I began to appreciate Hokusai’s inspiration for the iconic ‘36 Views of Mount Fuji‘ series.
the Big Bird family on a cold fucking morning
Insert two quiet days living on my boat, then it was time for one final adventure. Remember last year when I serendipitously met a dozen sailors in Atami and they invited me to sail with them and then let me live on their boat? This year I was encouraged to come along for the round trip, so a score of us filled Big Bird with food and booze for the seven-hour sail from Uraga to Atami. With our dawn departure, the temperature hadn’t risen much above freezing, but everyone bundled up in whatever cold-weather gear we could get our hands on (including one epic ski suit from Colorado circa 1991) and kept toasty with tipple from two incongruous mickeys of Jim Beam. The sun eventually warmed up and the air was crystal clear (more views of Fuji!); it was a beautiful sail. In Atami, we celebrated two group members’ recent nuptials at a tiny sushi joint, then all piled into one big room at the guest house to sit on the floor and drink until midnight. Despite a more-forgiving 9am departure on Sunday, only a half-dozen bodies made it back to Big Bird, while the rest lazed their way home on the train. Fewer bodies turned out to be a good thing when two-meter trailing waves tossed our boat around for four hours, including one near-broach that had her heeled over so far the winches got wet (imagine a boat on its side with the sails spread out like a beach-blanket on the water). I’m accustomed to getting salt on my winter gloves; getting it straight from the ocean was a new experience though…
sayonara
Back on my floating home, I have one week left in Japan. I haven’t accomplished all I set out to do, but I’ve had an amazing four months here (holy shit – four months already?). These last four weeks have been a whirlwind of mini adventures and amiable socializing, broken up by the zen-like peace of living on a boat. Japan has become a second home for me; it can never replace Canada, which is indelibly writ on my soul (and sole), but it takes a fortunate series of events to find a place that feels as comfortable and familiar as this, while remaining exciting and mysterious and confusing all the same. There’s no way to sufficiently thank everyone who has made my time here so incredible, but I hope the few words I’ve stumbled over in our conversations have at least given a general gist of my appreciation. Arigato to kanpai!
