Losing Ourselves

Before I turn to the adventure that was South Korea, I'd like to briefly tell the onsen story. Onsen. The actual definition of this place is a Japanese spa, but that fails to tell the whole story. Japanese spas involve getting naked in a locker room, showering, and then taking a communal dip with who knows how many other naked people. In short, it creeps me out. It makes my list of Top 10 fears in life, right along with snakes, earthquakes, and non-AC bus rides on the Bombay-Goa Highway.

We spent our second day in Nagasaki visiting Ioujima Island, a short ferry ride from the mainland. Except for a resort hotel, the island legitimately looks like something straight out of Jurassic Park - jungle-covered mountains and all. We spent awhile on the beach there and then, as part of our 980 Yen (about $10) package deal, we were required to exchange our spa ticket for the return boat ticket. I figured, as any reasonable person would, I think, that I could simply exchange the ticket at the spa desk. That was before I ran into the spa Nazi. She absolutely insisted (in Japanese, and with unmistakable hand signals) that I go into the spa or I couldn't have my return boat ticket. My Japanese is about as good as my Swahili, but what I imagine was said was, "Either you go into the room of nakedness, or you will be marooned on this island forever, and I will feed you to the pterodactyls in the mountains." Determining being served up as dinosaur bait to be a slightly worse fate (SLIGHTLY) than entering the room of nakedness, I capitulated and took a towel. I then proceeded to stand in the corner of the locker room being giggled at while Marina and Katherine took part in the festivities. I'm sure onsens are really nice; the Japanese seem to swear by them. And I am all about trying new experiences while abroad. Some things just cross the line for me, and being forced into a spa locker room under the threat of never returning to civilization is one of them.

On to South Korea. Country #20 on Megan's Lifetime World Tour.

Korea is different. I noticed the second we arrived at Busan Port that we weren't in Japan anymore. We rolled up after 3 hours traversing the East China Sea on our JR Beetle Jetfoil. Google Image this thing. It's sweet. It rises up out of the water and literally sounds like a rocket engine when starting up. It cuts a journey of 8 hours down to 3. In any case, Busan Port is absolutely bustling, full of enormous container ships from ports as distant as Singapore and Dubai. At immigration, we traded the digital fingerprints and photo of Japan for a laser-like device applied to our necks by masked, gloved officers. I'm sure they were just taking our temperatures, but it is also possible that I'm now carrying a secret spy camera in my neck, courtesy of the Korean government. After customs and immigration, we decided to go ahead and book our ferry tickets back to Japan. We were planning on taking an overnight ferry the second time around to save on a night's accommodation. We found the ticket office easily enough and the ticket agent spoke English, so we figured we had everything in the bag. We realized, however, that something had been lost in translation when he wished us a good journey...today. Jose tenderly broke the news to him that we were leaving in a week, not that day. Patiently, the ticket agent changed our date and issued us reservation tickets. Problem solved. Except not. Jose checked them (thankfully) and noticed that they were dated for 7/23 instead of our intended date of departure, 7/27. Once again, he gingerly broke the news to the agent. Ok, so we'll just fix the tickets again...except not. The ferry is full on 7/27. Fairly inflexible with respect to our return date due to future plans, we took a refund and decided to contemplate the situation later.

On to the shuttle that will take us to the metro, and ultimately the hotel. We had stood patiently waiting for the shuttle for about 10 minutes when we decided to take a peek at the schedule. We would have been waiting a long time, as the next shuttle was not for another 4 hours or so. Walking it was. Except the map we had was about as useful a navigation aid as a Monopoly board. And nobody, but nobody on the street spoke English. We wandered around for about 15 minutes before deciding to bite the bullet and take a taxi. We caught two and headed toward the hotel.

Except not. Jose's, Marlayna's and my cab driver drove us about 30 minutes outside the city and proudly pulled up to the Centum Hotel. Except we were staying at the Busan Central Hotel. There ensued a 15 minute conversation in which we tried to distinguish the "ral" from the "um". The difference clearly did not translate, and we were eventually sent in the direction of the closest metro station to our hotel. I was absolutely confident this time that we would get where we were going, as when Jose asked one of the hotel managers who'd been helping us if the station was in such and so direction, the man nodded his head and replied, "Maybe." We continued our tour of Busan and were eventually deposited at our metro station by what I'm sure was a very relieved cab driver. Now, surely, we had things in the bag. Except...you guessed it...not. Our hotel was theoretically a 2 minute walk from Exit 16 of the metro station. A few words about this. Exit 16?! 16 exits?! Continuing on...we walked down what looked like a promising street...one of the eight radiating from our metro station's intersection. No Busan Central Hotel on the horizon. We realized with amusement at this point that the hotel's name might not even be written in English, and seeing as written Korean strongly resembles crop circles to my untrained eyes, that could prove a bit of a stumbling block. We thus attempted to do what we do when lost in Japan - ask people on the street. Except the Korean reaction to "Do you speak English" was uniformly to either run away in utter fear, giggle and sheepishly slink away, reply in perfect English, "No, I do not speak English. Have a nice day! Oh, by the way, antidisestablishmentarianism is my favorite English word," or, if someone did speak English, they certainly did not know where this hotel was. We were supposedly two minutes from it, and no one had heard of it? Did it even exist?

During this period, by the way, I, being the odd person that I am, was in my ecstatic zone. I revel in chaos. Things would work out, but in the meantime, a glorious war story was developing, and I loved every minute of it. I kind of felt like we were in the middle of The Amazing Race...

At this point in our expedition, I noticed the location of addresses on buildings, and for three wonderful seconds, we thought that would help us out. Except...1) we absolutely could not read street signs, so numbers didn't really matter so much and 2) the numbers ran in absolutely no particular order. So much for that idea. And so we did what any self-respecting tourists should do. We opened our map in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at it blankly. Sure enough, a pack of people descended upon us in no time. One man in particular wordlessly signaled for us to follow him. Why not? Indeed, he led us directly to our hotel and up to its 3rd floor lobby, then disappeared into thin air like the guardian angel he was. Now, if only the other two girls were here...

In fact, their cab had taken them directly to the hotel, and they'd showered and were already sipping on some beers, contemplating what they might do if we actually were dead, as they slightly suspected we were. In truth, our little adventure proved quite useful. We'd gotten the lay of the land and seen much of the city...which turned out, to our great surprise, to be full of row after row of uniform white ferro-concrete apartment buildings, their addresses labeled in big block numbers on their sides. I've never visited a Communist country, but this is what I imagine it would look like. We found this especially odd considering South Korea's lack of affinity toward its red northern neighbor. In any case, we'd also spotted an Outback Steakhouse.
So, as it was the 23rd anniversary of Jose's birth, and as his reaction upon sighting Outback was akin to Pavlov's Dog, and as none of us had eaten in 24 hours, to Outback Steakhouse we ventured. I've never eaten so much in one sitting, taking down my first steak in 2 years (don't worry, Hari...I'll emerge back from the Dark Side once I'm back home) as well as half of Katherine's dinner. The wait staff sang Happy Birthday for Jose and brought him their sweet, yet ill-advised attempt at a cake - rye bread smothered in raspberry sauce. It's the thought that counts. We returned happily stuffed to the neighborhood around our hotel, had a few birthday drinks in Jose's honor, and promptly fell asleep, slightly exhausted from our great adventure.

To Seoul next, but for now I notice I'm being properly stared down for hogging the computer. Seoul, the most dangerous city on the planet (will explain later) with a solo field trip to the DMZ and a glimpse into North Korea...

The Resilient Beat Goes On

Nagasaki, Japan. A plutonium atom wiped 1/3 of this city off the map just 64 years ago. My dad would have been 5 years old. Today, it becomes my favorite city yet in Japan.

If Kyoto slowed us to a walk following our breakneck pace in Tokyo, Nagasaki brought us to a glorious crawl. It's small. It's walkable. It's by the mountains and the ocean. When you're too lazy to walk anymore, its main form of transportation is a tram line. It's hard to believe this city fell victim to the most powerful bomb ever detonated in wartime. Her streets are quaint and quiet, her hillsides peaceful, her people happy and friendly. I fell in love with Nagasaki almost immediately.

Our hostel, Akari, was, as promised, one of the best I've ever seen. Its owners were incredibly helpful and friendly, its accommodations immaculate, and its location along the river exceptional. It also helped that Nagasaki is small enough to pretty comfortably traverse on foot. We ate the first night at a

hostel-recommended restaurant down the street. Ever the culinary adventurers, Jose and I went for the local specialty, champon, or noodles in seafood stew. I'd have to honestly admit it was probably my least favorite food of the trip so far, save maybe for Jose's cow stomach in Kyoto. The animal parts were varied, sometimes excessively chewy, and often unidentifiable.

We met 4 awesome British/Scottish guys at the hostel and invited them out to a jazz club we wanted to check out. We walked the 10 minutes along the river to the main commercial area of Nagasaki and fairly easily came upon a doorway advertising jazz until 26:00. I'm all about adding extra hours to the day. Anyway, we tromped up the narrow staircase to the 3rd floor and discovered a gem - a spectacular hole-in-the-wall bar packed with CDs, vinyls, memorabilia, and likely the largest liquor collection in Nagasaki. The bar boasted all of 7 seats, perfect for our group of 7. Jose instantly befriended the proprietor, a Mr. Mizaguchi. Mizaguchi-san would serve us a drink from his extensive collection, ensure that our bowls of bar snacks were full, and then accompany one of his own CDs on the saxophone. Jose was smitten, and the rest of us were

instant fans. In the course of conversation, we discovered that Mizaguchi-san had been born in China in October of 1945. His family moved to Nagasaki in May of 1946. The bomb had been dropped just 9 months before. Reluctantly leaving around 12:30 so we could get ourselves up to sightsee the next day, we promised Mr. Mizaguchi we'd be back before we left Nagasaki. Not 8 hours into Nagasaki, we had friends and our own amazing watering hole. We would return 2 nights later, with Mizaguchi playing "Happy Birthday" for Jose on the sax and then digging into his record collection to treat us to a Frank Sinatra vinyl. Simply amazing.

We invited the Brits and Scots out the next day to visit the atomic bomb sites. It was, as

predictable, quite an emotional experience. We first visited the Nagasaki Peace Park, perched on a hill above the suburb of Urakami, ground zero for the explosion of Fat Man. The park is full of peace statues donated from other countries. Its centerpiece is a gigantic Buddha-like

figure, one hand outstretched in a gesture of peace, the other pointing toward the heavens from which the bomb fell. Like so many other things we've seen in Asia, it was massive and impressive. I suppose such grandeur is humanity's attempt at matching the size of the continent.

Our second stop was the reconstruction of Urakami Cathedral. The US did not originally intend to drop the bomb on Nagasaki, but cloud cover prevented the pilots from unleashing Fat Man on their first choice city. Nagasaki was unfortunate enough to finish second (interestingly, chillingly, Kyoto, that grand historic city of 2000 temples, was the final city to be removed from the short list...) The intended target was the Mitsubishi Shipbuilding Factory; a break in the clouds instead brought into focus the Mitsubishi Arms Factory in the northern suburb of Urakami. In yet a final

slip-up, the pilots missed this tertiary target and instead, in a dark twist of irony, hit a Catholic church, Urakami Cathedral. Only the church's front door and surrounding wall remained standing, the saints on either side charred black from the explosion.

Our next two stops were what really hit my gut -

ground zero for the bomb's detonation and the atomic bomb museum. The zero point is marked by a stark black pillar surrounded by concentric lawn circles. It is, in my opinion, an absolutely appropriate memorial. It is flanked on one side by one of the actual front pillars from Urakami Cathedral. I was immediately glued to any building remains actually impacted by the bomb. Even more stark was a simply marked set of stairs leading to "ground level when the atomic bomb exploded". Venturing down the stairs, I found a glassed-in preserved patch of Earth still containing the debris from the day the bomb exploded. It was incredibly eerie. Accompanying the patch of Earth was a stream that had been dammed with dead bodies the day after the bomb exploded. It was surrounded by some of the original flagstone, still exhibiting flash marks from the tremendous heat generated by the bomb (3000-4000 Celsius at the hypocenter). I was speechless, almost reduced to motionless.

The atomic bomb museum ranks right up there with the best museums I've ever seen. It explains every aspect of the explosion, from the build-up to the chemistry behind the bomb, the personal aftermath, rescue efforts, and the state of nuclear proliferation today. It is an impressive nod to human resilience in the face of indescribable disaster. Numerous actual artifacts from the day of the explosion are on display, some attached to mind-numbing, jaw-dropping, heart-wrenching personal stories. Particularly striking are two clocks that literally froze in time at 11:02 am, August 9th, 1945. I was personally thrown by a tin full of carbonized rice, a little girl's lunch that day. She could never have possibly known her lunch would end up a museum exhibit. The lobby of the museum is decorated with thousands upon thousands of paper cranes exhorting the world to peace.

Staring up that day, fixating on the sky above the black column at the hypocenter, I couldn't even come close to imagining the horrors of that day in August, 1945. The sky shone bright blue, scattered with fluffy white clouds, as if nothing had ever been wrong.

2000 Temples, 1001 Gods

Taking the train to Kyoto, I was reminded of how much I love said form of transportation. Japan's super-modern trains are indeed quite the departure from Indian trains, but both certainly have their charms. It was a welcome break for all of us to sit for a couple of hours. Mountain ranges emerged in the distance soon after our departure from Tokyo. Jose and I realized that we were on the rail line that passes in front of Mt. Fuji, and I began an ardent lookout for the volcano. I'd looked down for a few minutes to write in my journal when a sixth sense prompted me to glance out the window. There she was, lording over the entire landscape, significantly more grand than anything surrounding her. Clouds floated about halfway up the mountain, the almost perfectly conical peak reaching into the heavens. Overexcited, I nearly slapped Jose on the top of the head to alert him. The middle-aged Japanese man beside me looked concerned that I might be having a seizure. In reality, though, I did have quite an emotional reaction on first glimpse of Fuji-san. There is something divinely beautiful about that mountain in all its grandeur and perfection.

We had booked our first night in Kyoto at a traditional ryokan and essentially ended up having one all to ourselves. The serenity and cleanliness of our tatami room marked a vivid contrast to our hostel in Tokyo. After eating, we all climbed into yukatas (traditional Japanese robes) and relaxed for nearly the rest of the night on our futons (traditional Japanese bedding laid out on the floor). Our one departure was a trip out for dinner. We were lucky enough to land at a Korean barbecue boasting every part of the cow on the menu. I went for the tongue, while Jose ordered the stomach. The tongue arrived in very thin slices and, despite being a bit chewy, was actually quite good. I would certainly eat it again. The stomach looked and tasted like stomach. It had the consistency of lard, and attempting to chew it was a futile operation. After 15 minutes of frustrated mastication, I finally gave up and swallowed the thing whole. I cannot say that I would try it again...

The main attractions in Kyoto are its some 2000 temples. I managed 6 of them - Higashi and Nishi Hongan-Ji, Yasaka, Sanjusangen-Do, Kiyamizu, and To-Ji. We all visited Nijo castle and the Imperial Gardens and were lucky enough to be in Kyoto for the main celebration of the Kyoto Gion Matsuri Festival. Had we tried to manage more, we may well all have collapsed in sheer exhaustion. Kyoto sits in a valley, which serves to insulate the heat that steadily builds there throughout the day. In addition, we're in the middle of Japan's rainy season, so the humidity is outrageous enough as it is. There were days in Kyoto that most certainly reminded me of the Delhi heat.

In any case, our first two temples, Higashi and Nishi Hongan-Ji, are Buddhist temples in the Jodo shin school. Nishi Hongan-Ji is the mother temple for Jodo shin Buddhism, while Higashi was built later as part of the breakaway sect predominated over by the Tokugawa shogunate. Higashi's temple is one of the largest wooden structures in the world, but was unfortunately under renovation while we were there. I was lucky enough while inside the cavernous interior of Nishi to run across 3 elderly women chanting their prayers for the day. I felt absolutely privileged to be in their presence.

Day 2 counted as one of my favorite in Japan, but for odd reasons. We began with a visit to the Yasaka shrine to check out free traditional performances occurring there in celebration of the Kyoto Gion festival. The vermilion-colored shrine sported a carnival-like atmosphere, complete with aromatic food stands...and beer. After lunch, Jose, Marlayna and I attacked our absolutely rank laundry while Marina and Katherine took a trip out to visit the golden temple, or Kinkakuji. Laundry time actually turned out to be pretty entertaining, as an Australian school group showed up at the breadbox-sized laundromat just ahead of us. We thus spent several hours sitting on stools on the sidewalk, solving logic puzzles, and waiting for our clothes. It was one of those moments that was just off-color and unique - I'm sure the Kyoto-ites driving by wondered what in the world those gaijin were doing chilling on the side of the street.

The next day took us to Sanjusangen-Do and Kiyamizu. These rank among some of the most impressive structures I've ever seen. Sanjusangen-Do is affliliated with Tendai Buddhism and boasts 1001 statues of Kannon, the goddess of mercy in its 120 meter hall, the longest wooden hall in Japan. 500 life-size statues flank either side of an enormous central figure, and all are guarded by 28 Japanese deities in the foreground. The entire display is exceedingly impressive and like nothing else in the world. It took over 100 years in the 12th and 13th centuries to carve the 1001 statues. This stuff is OLD.To make things even cooler, the back hallway of the building was once used for archery tournaments. Kiyamizu rests atop a cliff above Kyoto and thus provides a fantastic panoramic vista of the city and surrounding mountains.

The walk to the temple takes one up a narrow, winding residential road and then through an area that has been turned into a tourist haven. We were actually really excited to run across souvenir shops at this point, as they marked the first we'd seen in Japan. In any case, the torii gate guarding the temple suddenly rises above you at the top, and once in the complex, it affords gorgeous views. The famous Love Temple is part of the complex and with its county fair-esque atmosphere seemed oddly incongruent with the rest of the temple, but was entertaining nonetheless. Here, a life-size Donnie Darko-esque rabbit accompanies the Japanese goddess of love (http://media.photobucket.com/image/Jishu-jinja%20shrine%20rabbit/AngelicCross/Kyoto/Kiyomizu%20Temple/RabbitnearOkuninushinoMikoto.jpg).

The last day brought the Gion Festival parade, where we found ourselves amidst an enormous mass of humanity, watching 32 enormous floats pulled and carried down the street by every sort of man, young and old. To be honest, I'm not exactly sure what I was watching, but the festival lasts for a month and has been a staple in Kyoto, even through the rough times. It was a privilege to just be in the middle of it. After squeezing our way through the parade crowds, we toured Nijo Castle and its grounds, the most remarkable aspect of the castle being its hummingbird floors, designed to squeak under footfall to warn the emperor of the arrival of potential intruders. At the end of the day (e.g. around 4pm), we all dragged ourselves, maimed and dripping in sweat, to To-Ji temple, home of Japan's largest 5-storey pagoda. To-Ji also boasted two halls with an impressive array of enormous Buddha shrines. By this point, it was raining and we all had at least one bum leg, so we called it a day and shrank back to our ryokan.

One final notable aspect of Kyoto was its food. I have yet to have a bad meal on this trip, but the stuff in Kyoto was, in my opinion, exceptional. One night found us at an all you can eat and drink beer garden on the top of a hotel roof overlooking the sun setting red into the Kyoto mountains; another night found us stumbling into a hole in the wall that turned out to be an exceptional traditional restaurant. We sat on the floor enjoying outstanding miso, salad, teriyaki chicken, shrimp tempura, and sushi. We weren't exactly sure what kind of fish lay on our plates, but Marina, Marlayna and I gobbled them all down. I later found out that one, an odd fluffy-looking white fish, was actually sea snake. I was pleased to add that to my bizarre foods list for the trip...all the more so because I did not have to know I was eating it!

Our next stop is Nagasaki, the city that caught all of our hearts in one way or another, and not just because of its atomic fate. I'll write about her soon, but as a preview...hole-in-the-wall jazz club, the proprietor of which, a Mr. Mizaguchi, moved to Nagasaki as an infant in May of 1946. Fat Man had wreaked its havoc just 9 months before.

The City that Never Stops

So I have been terribly remiss in keeping up with this blog, and I send my apologies. We've done so much running around that, by the time we get home in the evening, I am usually too tired to do anything but collapse onto the floor...not to mention the frustration inherent in typing on Japanese keyboards.

In any case, we are all alive and well, and just arrived in Nagasaki. Tokyo seems so long ago, but I will try to cover it in this posting, and Kyoto in another one very soon. Tokyo is big, and that is a terrible understatement. It's somewhat like combining most major cities in the US into one, as every part of Tokyo exudes its own distinct personality. We tried to cover it systematically, neighborhood by neighborhood, in order to accomplish as much as possible. It is the first city I've ever visited that I don't feel like I can say I have a grasp on after 4 days...it's just that massive.

We began our whirlwind tour of Tokyo in the north, near our hostel. Our first morning in Japan was spent visiting the most visited temple in Japan. My jet-lagged bleary eyes quickly came to life upon first sight of our first torii gate, pagoda, and temple. The native tourists seemed especially excited to be there, so I fed off of their enthusiasm. Upon entering the temple, we caught the tail end of a priest chanting a sutra, his voice echoing off of every wall in the enormous room. The whole experience was a sensory explosion...the perfect start, in my opinion, to our journey. It was like diving in head first. The rest of our day was spent in and around Ueno Park, the Ueno Zoo, and the Tokyo National Museum. We decided to check out Ueno Zoo on a whim (it only cost 600 Yen, or a little more than 6 bucks, so why not?) It turned out to be a fortuitous decision, as the zoo was jam-packed with critters, and we later discovered that it is rated as the best zoo in Japan. We followed up our zoo visit with the Tokyo National Museum, taking in everything from ancient calligraphic scrolls to thousands of years of Buddha idols, katana swords, and kimonos. Even jet-lagged and not always quite sure of the significance of what I was looking at, the museum was well worth the visit.

We spent our next day in central Tokyo, first checking out Akihabara, or the electronics district. We found ourselves in the Goliath of Best Buys, a 9-storey electronics megastore selling 500 permutations of every electronic you can think of, and some you haven't, from $250 diamond-studded iPod cases to the ubiquitous Japanese super toilet. The place was yet another sensory overload, flashing lights, neon-colored signs, loud (bizarre) music, regular announcements. I later developed a migraine during the day and am fairly confident it was this store's fault. Neurological damage aside, I'm glad we visited and got a taste of the Japanese proficiency for and love of electronics. Ginza (or Tokyo's answer to Fifth Avenue or St. Germain) came next, and with it, Times Square-esque intersections, Gucci, Prada, Coach, and the Sony building. There, we checked out the showrooms displaying all of Sony's newest creations, including a dancing radio. I'm predicting it hits big for Christmas 2010. Just wait. I've seen the future. We continued our futuristic day with a visit to the Tokyo International Forum, a piece of architectural genius, its glass building soaring into the sky and shaped like an upside-down ship. The interior is absolutely enormous and utterly breathtaking.

We made an attempt that night at going out to the New York bar at the Tokyo Park Hyatt (of Lost in Translation fame) for a drink, but thanks to an utter lapse in my navigational skills ended up walking around for seemingly ever in the Tokyo heat and then were unable to get into the hotel because a couple of us were wearing open-toed shoes. Who knew? The night ended up interesting enough, however, as we landed at a pretty traditional restaurant, sitting on the floor, eating yakitori (various chicken parts on a stick). I'll be honest, I can't be entirely sure WHICH pieces of the chicken I ate, but they were all good/interesting. The liver, which I'd never had before, was especially fantastic. The chicken elbow was a tad chewy. As the other girls were a bit tired, they headed back to the hostel and Jose and I went out with a random guy who'd latched onto us from the hostel (not Taka from before). Brandon was one of those roving ex-military guys who is clearly a little lost in life and dreadfully lonely. He cruise-directed a trip to a karaoke bar...in Japan, this means locking yourself in a small room with a TV, several binders full of music, and incomprehensible controls. Brandon belted out Radiohead and the like at the top of his lungs, while smoking. It was a slightly surreal experience, but I'm glad we did it since it is certainly uniquely Japanese. These karaoke rooms are about as ubiquitous as vending machines and techno toilets.

We spent the next few days around Shibuya, Harajuku and Shinjuku, the self-proclaimed hangout spots of Tokyo for various subgroups of people. Shinjuku reminds me of an overgrown Times Square, while Harajuku resembles Paris, with its shops and wide avenues. The volume of people around Harajuku caught us all by surprise...we actually had to stand in line to get into a Forever 21, and once in, we were doing well to find room to breathe. I got to experience purchasing shoes in Japan, as I needed some so that we could make our second attempt at the Park Hyatt. My petite little feet in America are gigantic in Japan, and I found myself barely able to fit into size larges. Oh well!

One of the highlights was the Tsukiji Fish Market, the largest and busiest of its kind in the world. We were lucky to escape with all of our digits, as these miniature delivery trucks zoom through the narrow aisles at breakneck speed and without consideration for human life. Amidst dodging the trucks, we caught glimpses of an absolutely ridiculous array of seafood, from sea snakes to whole squids, gigantic tuna, sea urchins, and plenty of things I'll admit that I cannot identify. It was fascinating, however, to be amidst the madness, and quite satisfying to defy death by fish cart multiple times.

We ventured out for a second time to the Park Hyatt, this time with success. The view from the 52nd floor bar was astounding. Tokyo stretched in every direction...forever. No exaggeration. I had known Tokyo was big as we attempted walking around, but seeing it from above quite literally put it into perspective. I've never seen anything like it, and I'm unsure that I ever will again. The bar itself was incredible. I ordered a Sam Adams...a 13 dollar Sam Adams. It was poured absolutely perfectly by our waiter...making it well worth the 13 bucks. I considered the $670 glass of scotch on the menu, but decided I'd rather put my first-born through college. Following a few drinks that slightly broke the bank, we ate a surprisingly reasonably priced dinner of the most amazing food...I am still thinking about that duck breast and goat cheese salad a week later. Live jazz began at 7, filling the room and providing a perfect backdrop for the unbelievable view. The whole outing was admittedly a tad extravagant, but it was also a once in a lifetime opportunity, and universally agreed-upon as well worth it. We spent our last night on an all-you-can-drink cruise on the river, enjoying more unreal views of Tokyo and schmoozing with some really nice local students. We've all agreed to make the cruise our farewell to Japan during our last night back in Tokyo in August.

Next stop is Kyoto, the old capital of Japan and home to 2000 temples. Quite a marked contrast and change of pace from Tokyo.

Flushing Sounds and Sweat

I suppose I should begin by saying that we all arrived in Japan safe and sound, if not a little worse for wear. It's amazing how a 14 hour flight can seem so short, while simultaneously destroying your body. Katherine and Marlayna were the lucky ones who managed somehow to sleep for over 8 hours; Jose, Marina and I, on the other hand, managed to entertain ourselves for 14 hours and, try as we might, failed miserably in any attempts at slumber. Ah well...we are all still knackered anyway.

I could write an entire blog about the Tokyo airport. But suffice it to say this: I never get tired of discovering the multivarious toilet designs the world has to offer. Japan has already provided a smorgasbord. After passing through the ever-efficient immigration control and collecting our bags immediately off the carousel, Marlayna and I decided to take a field trip to the restroom. We were rewarded with 3 varieties of toilet: a no-frills Western commode, a squat toilet/hole in the ground a la India, and the most complicated urinary contraption I've ever seen. Marlayna feared what would happen if she pressed the wrong button on this thing. There was a bidet button, a button promising some sort of fountain, an "intense deodorizer" and, my favorite, a button sporting a musical note. Could my toilet REALLY sing to me?! Even better, as it turns out. The musical note button plays the "toilet flushing" sound...it doesn't flush the toilet, just plays the sound to mask the audibles emanating from your use of the facilities. Marlayna and I emerged giggling and quite proud of our discovery. After breezing through customs, I made another stop at the next bathroom to peel my jeans off (the humidity was closing in on Bombayesque) and change into shorts. I was treated with an even more technologically advanced bathroom, complete with electronic Star Trek style sliding doors to each stall. I felt like I was boarding a space capsule on pushing the button to walk in. Even better, as I was fretting to myself that I would have to expose my sock feet to the bathroom floor, I noticed a drop-down changing platform. The Japanese have thought of EVERYTHING.

Following my bathroom adventures, we bought tickets for the Skyliner train into the city and headed to the platform. I was again impressed with Japanese ingenuity when the escalator aid insisted I could bring our luggage cart down the escalator with me, and proceeded to wedge it safely into the escalator stairs. At this point, we encountered the first of what will be many vending machines (fast forward: these things sit solo on the side of the road here...they are EVERYWHERE). I was immediately drawn to a beverage labeled "Pocari Sweat". Sweat, eh? I of course, immediately deposited 120 Yen into the machine. It arrived in a hybrid between a can and a bottle and boasted the power to re-ionize my body. Awesome. Jose, ever the family cameraman, took our first Japan video as I gulped my first taste of Sweat. "Tastes like...Gatorade!" It's officially my new favorite beverage, if for no other reason than the fact that no one would ever dare steal a sip from my bottle labeled "Sweat".

My first great human interaction occurred as I was changing money at the airport, clad in my Red Sox shirt. The usually stoic-expressioned man behind the glass brightened as I approached and whispered "Reeeeddddd Soxxxxx". I smiled, "Yep!" He replied, "You know Matsuzaka!?" "Haha, of course I do! And Okajima, too!" Upon mention of a second countryman, the man grinned widely. "Ahhh! Yes! And Okajima!" Never let it be said that the Red Sox are anything less than uniters.

The 56 minute train journey into Tokyo was, as advertised, clean, comfortable, and efficient. Upon emerging from the airport tunnel into the world (slightly akin to emerging from the womb, no?), we spotted several Japanese steakhouses. You know, the hibachi kind where they cook right in front of you? Actually, no, these were just sub-suburban houses and shops, but my first thought really did go to Japanese steakhouses until I realized...these buildings were real. We're in Japan.

We managed fairly easily to find our way to the Ginza Line of the Tokyo Metro for our 3 stops to Asakusa. We lined up in the pre-determined rows and waited for our train (akin to an amusement park ride...and a world of difference from the chaos that is the subway in all the rest of the world). Again, clean, comfortable, efficient. Then, Jos and I managed to navigate our way to within a block of our hostel before asking for help from a policeman for the last few hundred yards. We were quite proud of ourselves, as Japanese addresses are written in an entirely different format from ours, streets aren't exactly named, and, best yet, buildings are chronologically numbered from their date of construction. It can make for a navigational nightmare.

We took much needed showers at the hostel (Marlayna, dripping sweat: "EVEN THE SOLES OF MY FEET ARE SWEATING!!!") and headed to dinner, accompanied by a Japanese guy who went to Brown, lives in Charlotte, NC, and is currently traveling the world. As he speaks some Spanish and is a Red Sox fan from his days in Providence, he and Jose developed a fast friendship. He was also in India something like, last week, so we bonded over India, the charms of the American South, and our Wachovia bank accounts. We were exceptionally lucky to have him around, as he led us to a quick, inexpensive and tasty rice bowl restaurant. Jos tried to order in Japanese but got a look like he was speaking in English. Thankfully, our friend was able to order for us, and we all gulped down miso and rice bowls. It is going to be interesting once we're without him!

I came to the realization today that this whole experience is like reverting to infancy. The spoken and written language is an incomprehensible jumble, we must observe and attempt to emulate behavior, trial by fire, we have trouble getting our food to our mouths with our new utensils. We are placed into a state far more helpless than that to which we are accustomed. And that is where the beauty lies.

We'll spend the next 4 days exploring Tokyo with as fine a toothed comb as we can explore this monstrously large place. We'll make our way from the quaint, quiet streets of Asakusa, our home in northeastern Tokyo, to the bustling Tokyo fish market at Tsukiji and the busiest intersection in the world in Shinjuku. As tired as I still am at the moment, I am also indescribably happy. Traveling again, taking in every little detail, meeting souls from all over the planet (one of our roommates last night was from one of the greatest cities on the planet, Brisbane!) Things are about to get a little crazy! :)

Hope all is well with everyone back home. I may not have time to respond individually to emails or facebook messages, but I'll try to comment if you comment here. Until next time... (I'll work on how to say that in Japanese in the meantime...)"

T-32 Hours To Departure

It's been 2 years since I last left my country to explore the world (if you don't include my 2 day whirlwind trip to Canada last May...I don't). To those to whom this seems a short span of time - in the context of my recent life, it is not. From 2005-2007 I counted visits to 14 countries. Thus, zero in two years feels strange. I fear it has tipped me off-balance.

The anticipation girding us for this trip is different from that I have felt before. In many ways, it is stronger - I've never planned for a trip for so long, I've never faced so many obstacles on the way to actually boarding the plane, I've never traveled abroad with so many friends (I rarely travel with anyone else at all). I have never set foot in East Asia. At the same time, this trip is different for other reasons - I'm not taking part in any kind of work while I'm there, I'm not staying in anyone's home, I'm visiting first world countries. The toilets may be different, but I've done that before. The language, both written and spoken, may be incomprehensible, but I've done that before. The question marks preceding this trip are therefore different than I am used to. I wonder how I will react to finally having traveling companions - how their insights and experiences will enrich my own. I wonder if Japan will throw me more than India, simply because I expect it not to. I wonder how the 24-year-old, 18-country version of myself will react to things in comparison to the 14-year-old, zero-country version of myself. Writing that just made me realize that this will mark the 10 year anniversary of my first trip - we left on July 12th. I'll never forget that date. I don't know what it is that makes me such a better version of myself when I travel, but I'm yearning for it after its 2 year hiatus.

In any case, here we come, Japan. Here we come, South Korea. Despite all of the lingering pre-trip questions, one thing remains steadfast and sure - the five of us are about to have an experience we cannot yet imagine and will not ever forget. We will be transformed by the people we meet and the places we see, as they will in some small way be transformed by us (Japan will learn the art of dancing "The Jose"...and we'll learn the art of wearing a kimono, par exemple). There may be bumps in the road, even painful ones at times, that intermix with the euphoric and epiphanous moments. But that's okay. It's part of the journey. All my bags are packed (well, almost) and I'm ready to go (as always).

Next stop: Tokyo. A sprawling megalopolis vying for world predominance. A study in contrasts. An assault, I suspect, on the senses. And something altogether different from anything I've ever experienced before.