Kanazawa, Baby!

My little Suzuki Alto made a journey out of Fukui and into Ishikawa prefecture today - and all of the car's passengers (and the car itself) happily lived to tell the tale. Destination: Kanazawa City, a bustling metropolis of 458,000 which provided me which a much-needed urban fix. I've been in the rice paddies too long!

The Alto braved the Hokuriku Expressway, where it topped out at 100 kph (a whopping 60 mph). I cried inside as little old ladies in Japanese Buicks scowled as they flew past me. I cried out loud when we learned our round-trip toll fare would be 3,000 yen ($30). Ouch.

Once in the city, our first stop was Kanazawa-jo. The castle was lovely, but the highlight was a fellow JET's find of a severed statue head in a pile of rocks. Nice work, John!

Next stop was the Ninja-dera, a temple blessed with trick staircases, hidden rooms, ritual suicide chambers and a bit of a checkered past. Samurais used to hang out there, ostensibly "on call" to protect royalty in the temple and at the nearby castle. We, of course, weren't allowed to take pictures of all of this secrecy, so you'll have to visit to see for yourselves!

We visited Kenrokuen Garden, designated as one of the top three gardens in the country. I felt like I'd walked inside a calendar photo - everywhere I turned, well-manicured beauty abounded. We paused to get pictures at a lakeside vista and then headed for dinner at....

....FRESHNESS BURGER.

What excursion to a large Japanese city would be complete without this piece of Americana? Complete with English-language menus and Heinz 57 ketchup, Freshness Burger served up a mean meat patty. I stuck to my veggie-lovin' ways and had a salad and shake, but may have to come back to feed an onion ring craving in the very near future.

Kanazawa, we heart you.

Conveyor Belt Sushi: Why I Love Japan

'Twas a weekend of festivals and camping trips (read on for details on these adventures). But perhaps the most profound of my cultural experiences over the last few days involved eating sushi off a conveyor belt.

It was deeeee-lish (or "oishii" here in Japan). Until you've tried conveyor belt sushi, you haven't lived. Starving when you walk in? Just plop down, pull some fish off the belt, and dig in. Not finding what you like on the belt? Simply pop your order into the table-top computer, and your wish is the kitchen's command. There's free tea, ginger and a little soy sauce dispenser at every table.

And the best part? Everything at this restaurant was 100 yen (about $1). That means I ate nine plates - yes, NINE plates - of delicious raw fish and spent less than 10 bucks.

Special thanks go to my dining companions, all veteran JETs, for humoring my in-restaurant photo safari. I appreciate their indulging my "newbie" status and not laughing too hard as my flash photography caused Japanese patrons at neighboring tables to stare at us. Their next 100-yen plate of sushi is on me!

Happiness, Love & World Peace

The Japanese love their fireworks. In the good ol' USA, we get 'em just once a year at the Fourth of July. But during my month in Japan, I've been to no less than three spectacular fireworks shows.

But this fireworks show was different, even by Japanese standards. It was held in the town of Eihei-ji, home to the Eihei-ji temple, one of the "most influential" centers of Zen Buddhism in the world. As our crew arrived at the festival grounds, we were greeted by the low murmur of these Zen Buddhist monks chanting and bells ringing. Dozens of robed monks marched in a procession on the stage.

For a mere 1000 yen (10 bucks), families could purchase paper lanterns, blessed by the monks, write blessings for ancestors on the lanterns, and then release them into a river that flows through town. Hundreds of glittering lanterns floated by us as Eihei-ji hosted an impressive fireworks show on the banks on the other side.

A couple of JETs purchased a lantern and wrote their wishes for the world: happiness, good health, love and, of course, WORLD PEACE!

Ono: Oh Yes!

Saturday night marked the annual Fukui JET camping trip, where I shared a forest clearing with a couple dozen fellow senseis right outside of Ono City. We enjoyed swimming in ice-cold mountain water and all of the "many natures" that Fukui-ken has to offer.

The setting was idyllic: after a campfire and s'mores, I was lulled to sleep by the chirping of crickets, the babble of the river, and, oh yes, the screams of drunken JETs jumping naked off the cliffs into the water. Nice.

And these are the people charged with "internationalizing" Japanese youth. God help the children of Fukui-ken!

Gomi Stress: I'm a Victim

Japan is a small island with a lot of people, and, thus, a lot of garbage. This phenomenon causes a lot of "Gomi Stress" (Garbage Stress) among the Japanese. But they're serious about recycling - so much so, that upon arriving at my apartment, I was greeted with a huge, four-color, two-sided poster describing how to sort my various papers, plastics, glass, and metals into color-coded recycling bags. The problem was that the poster was all in Japanese. And I'd already missed one of the only two designated recycling days for the month.

So, for the last three weeks, the front foyer of my apartment has been covered in trash - er, recyclables - as I've waited for today: Recycling Day!!

I set my alarm early - 7 a.m. - loaded my car with the six bags of recyclables I'd carefully sorted, and headed out to the designated recycling spot for our neighborhood. Pleased that I'd arrived on time (I thought I'd done something right for once), I was disappointed when I began to received strange looks as I pulled the brightly-colored bags out of my car: turns out the bags I used were out-of-date. The color scheme had changed. I'd need to re-sort.

So, at 7:15 a.m., in front of my entire neighborhood, I dug through six bags of my own trash to re-sort it according to the new guidelines. Just in case I didn't stick out enough already...

But I still didn't have the correct bag for plastics. I used blue (stupid gaijin!) and needed green.

I didn't have a green bag. And it was 7:47. Recycling closed at 8 a.m.

A kind recycling staffer explained to me that I could buy bags at the convenience store a few blocks away. But time was running out, she said. I'd have to come back in two weeks. I cringed at the thought of my foyer being covered with plastic bottles for another 14 days. So I hopped in my car, sped off to the combini (I'm getting good at driving on the left), played charades with the store clerks to get what I needed, and sped back to the recycling post.

The staff literally cheered as I pulled in. I victoriously pulled the new green bags out of my car. It was 7:59 a.m.

On a side note, actually throwing something away - not recycling - is even more of a process. Trash Day comes twice a week. I pull all of my trash into yellow bags and literally write my name and address on it before I can throw it away. If I've tried to toss something away that I shouldn't, my concerned neighbors will leave the bag on my front step. Now that's Gomi Stress!

Sunrise in the Land of the Rising Sun

I was among the first people in the world to welcome Saturday, August 18, 2007.

Yesterday, I spent 12 hours - from 10 p.m. on Friday to 10 a.m. on Saturday - on Mt. Fuji, the tallest mountain in Japan (the summit is 3776 meters above sea level). The Japanese have a saying about Mt. Fuji: "You're a fool if you don't climb it once, but you're a fool if you climb it more than once." I agree: it took us just under 7 hours to scale to the top!

Along the way, we experienced temperature extremes (I started the climb in shorts and a t-shirt and finished with lined pants and a sweatshirt), saw stars in a clouless sky (because we were above the clouds!), and enjoyed some of the most amazing udon soup I've ever tasted (at 3360 meters above sea level at 4 a.m.).

The trail was at times easy (it felt like an average hike through the woods) and at times treacherous (it required me to hold my flashlight in my mouth as used both hands to climb vertically on volcanic rock), but the view from the top made the long journey worthwhile. Pictures can't do justice to a sunrise above the clouds, but I've shared them here.

I carried a walking stick with me through the entire trek - mountain staffers stamped milestone brands into the stick at each rest station along the way, and a Buddhist priest blessed it with a "top of the mountain" brand when I reached the summit.

It took us another 5 hours to get back down the mountain, and it will take perhaps another 5 days to recover from the climb (my legs are soooore), but here's hoping the memories will last a lifetime!

Domo Arigato, Mr. Nagata

Meet Mr. Nagata, leader of the Harue Community Center English conversation class and my new 75-year-old Japanese friend. Mr. Nagata took me under his wing earlier this week, giving me a guided tour of Harue (a small community next door to Maruoka), inviting me to his home to meet his wife, daughter, and grandchildren, and then treating me to lunch at a local Italian restaurant (great food - pasta with a Japanese touch!). Mr. Nagata is a tennis pro - he plays at least 4 times a week - and is quite possibly in better shape than I am. He also survived WWII and has some incredible stories to tell. I'll look forward to conversing with him in English in hopes that he'll reciproate with lessons on Japanese culture and perhaps life in general...