Tokyo Tangents

Monks in the Mist

2012-02-01T04:49:00.000-08:00

Monks in the Mist
(or: Southeast-Asian Shenanigans, Part II)

We arrived in Vientiane, the capital of Laos, just in time to see the sun set in red-tinged haze over the Mekong river. We spend the next day, Christmas Day, wandering about in the pleasant sunshine and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.

The ‘morning market’, a covered, two-storied wander of handicrafts, antiques, and the usual (Pots and pans. Thread. Jewelry. Microwaves.)

A peaceful wat with beautiful grounds.

Statues of Buddha big and small stretch in rows and hide in nooks around the square, some swathed in gold, some missing an eye, or a limb, or a head. The main hall is covered with partially-intact mosaics that have survived for centuries.

Walk. Shop. Stop.

Cold beer and cards in the shade.

Massages.

Holiday skypes and the Grinch stealing Christmas.

Cover songs in the cool of the evening, sitting on yellow metal chairs.

This is Christmas, Laos style.

A Turkmenistan gentleman + Laotian-inspired, original carpet designs + thoughts of my bare wood floors = my first rug purchase! Or, more accurately, my first rug order, as the rug that I fell in love with had already been sold, so they are making me another one.

The night bus north to Luang Prabang was shoes-off, red leather, personal capsules with room to stretch out, and twisty roads that made me glad for the darkness.

It’s never fun to arrive in a new place after a night on a bus. In the cold. With transport to haggle over and a hotel to find… but Luang Prabang quickly made all that disappear.

The town itself is a UNESCO World-Heritage site, with French-colonial architechture, shady side-streets, and the confluence of two rivers, the mighty Mekong and the Nam Khan, providing a myraid of places to sit and gaze at the flowing water while boats motor up and down.

Novice monks in bright saffron orange walk everywhere, and we take turns shooting what we hope are inconspciuous snaps… a muttering, a head tilt… ‘monks on the sidewalk! monks with umbrellas!

We hire a guy with a truck to take us to a cave up the river. The first half was pleasant and paved, the second jarring, dusty, grit-your-teeth-and-pray-it-ends-soon… but it got us to where we needed to go. Wander down the village street. Chickens, dogs, kids and women. A restaurant on the river, some guys with boats. Aha! The man with the boat is necessary to get us across to cave!

The cave is two levels, filled with Buddha statues of every shape, size, and color…

We return to town in time to catch the sunset from the hilltop wat in the center of town… us and every other tourist in the area. Not exactly the serene golden moment I anticipated, but by heading back down the hill I was able to catch the final fuschia moments in relative peace, next to a beautiful wat.

The next morning we took part in a cooking class at Tom Tom Yum restaurant. We started out at the local market, learning about the local ingredients and sampling some tasty snacks.

Back at the restaurant, we learn how to make tomato flowers and cucumber leaves, try our hand at chopping galangal, which is like ginger but much harder and much more likely to result in a knife-related injury, and acquainting ourselves with other important ingredients in Laos cusinine, especially lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves.

Then it was on to the kitchen, where we took turns at the stove, tossing (pre-cut!) ingredients into pots and pans, stirring with flourishes, and watching the rice-making ritual (sticky rice, made by a method of steaming in which the rice does not touch the water. Unlike the steamed rice, where the rice is boiled, not steamed.).

The end result was a delicious lunch and some excellent conversation with our cooking-class companions, one them a teacher at ASDoha. International teachers are everywhere!

Up early on day 3 in Luang Prabang, as we headed out for a day of hiking!

Back of the truck, out of town and onto red dirt roads, the Nam Khan river flowing as families fish and wash and bathe. We cross the river after a quick look at the elephants at a camp, and off we go!

Green.

Jungle.

Mountains rise in the distance.

Dry rice fields.

Purple flowers.

Indigo Indian paintbrushes.

Groves of teak, huge leaves on the ground.

Criss-crossing small streams under the shade of trees.

Into a village.

Students chant from inside the schoolhouse, women weave grass into roofing, children play.

Up, up, up, rest for lunch in another cluster of houses, a man shoos the dogs away, but the rooster still pecks around our feet...

More green hills rising, streams running… until back to the river we return.

We wait for our boat, watching the ferry pole back and forth, then head downstream under motor, watching life on the riverbanks.

Stop at a waterfall, dappled shade, roots and vines, cold clear water flowing over sandy steps, low in the dry season

A wonderful day, topped off by dinner in a narrow alley full of stalls where we filled plates with cheap but tasty food before crashing early….

And early to bed, early to rise.

Monks collecting alms in the misty morning. Trying not to be completely shameless about taking photos as they go about their daily ritual, but also yearning for that perfect shot… and while the mist made the magic, it didn’t help the photos turn out!

Across the bamboo bridge to the other side of the river.

Boats awaiting their captains.

A village waking up, handicraft shops opening doors.

Natural dyes bubble on wood fires, looms wait for the weavers to arrive.

A read on the hotel balcony, shady lunch and relaxing message, shopping, dinner… yes, life is rough on vacation....

Our final day together is new year’s eve, and we spend the morning in our own pursuits before meeting again for a cruise up the Mekong. Houses on stilts perch precariously on the hillside; people bathe and fish and farm on the bank, teenagers drink beer and laugh loudly… we stop in a Hmong village, where we are surrounded by women and children, all holding small zippered pouches with various designs, and we have the impossible task of choosing which to buy… because of course we will buy some.

Sunset on riverside stairs, one last game of cards, a stroll through the night market.

A paper lantern lit as the river rushes and the quarter moon hangs heavy in the sky, constellations gleaming, distant music pounding….and at midnight, fireworks flare from everywhere and countless lanterns stream flickering red through the dark…

After an early-morning goodbye, I sleep again and wake to a lovely Sunday. Clouds float on the breeze, music plays from radios, locals and tourists go about their business, as I move from shady spot to shady spot, savoring my last day of rest an relaxation before heading back to winter....

Southeast-Asian Shenanigans

2012-01-14T03:48:00.000-08:00

Frost covered the fields as the train whisked me to the airport, and mere 12 hours was all it took to take me to the muggy heat of Bangkok. I relished my tuk-tuk ride through the dusky streets - smoggy wind in my hair, honking horns, lights twinkling in the trees, and the feeling of adventure that only comes from riding in an open-air vehicle while your driver smokes, talks on his cell phone, and is probably only pretending to know where he is going.

Familiar faces spotted across the road, and it feels like it’s been a matter of days, not six months, since we last sat watching life go by, drinking beer and talking.

The foot massage and cheap PadThai of the next morning are excellent send-offs as we head back to the airport to wing our way to uncharted territory for all of us: Hanoi, Vietnam.

A beautiful lake lies not far from our door, a wonderful place to wander and watch. A temple adorns one island, a mystery building the other, and we explore before letting the chaos of the old town envelop us.

Motorbikes are everywhere. Crossing the road requires a steady pace and confidence, as the only way to do so is to step out and let the bikes go around you. They park on the sidewalk in gleaming rows, between the multitude of low tables and red and blue plastic stools that mark the presence of a place to sit and have tea, coffee, beer, noodles, meat on a stick… between that and the shops spilling their wares out beneath their awnings, the sidewalk is less an place to walk and more an extension of the building behind it.

Women in concial straw hats navigate the chaos with a two-basket balance on their shoulders, or wheel bikes laden with goods – leafy piles of greens, spiky kholorabi, bunches of bananas, blue plastic bags of cut pineapple, bright orange mandarins, strawberries, feather dusters, recyclables, plastic-ware, woven baskets..

The shops are clustered by type – pots-and-pans on one block, fake flowers on the next, antiques, silver jewelry, art, gaudy christmas decorations, clothes, handbags, shoes, leather jackets….

Trees and knots of telephone lines mix beautifully with the architecture – the french influence clear in the colors, the shutters, the narrow balconies and scrollwork, but worn down by the years and the exhaust in the air.

On the second day we wander into the newer part of town, to see the prison where Vietnamese prisoners were held by the French, and American pilots were held by the Vietnamese. The wide streets and embassy buildings made for a pleasant stroll to Ho Chi Min’s masoleum, the one-tier pagoda, and the Temple of Literature.The temple of literature was a pleasant surprise, a large complex of temples dedidated to Confucious and the study of his works.

That evening we went out for a bit of a wander before seeing the water puppets, which were controlled by sticks hidden under a shallow pool of water. Mildly entertaining and a great segue into our lovely evening playing cards at the kiosk by the lake.

On Day 3 we took a day trip down to an ancient capital of Vietnam, where we saw temples in the old city, took a little bike ride amidst the fields, and climbed to a cave-temple. The city is in an area our guide called the ‘dry halong bay’ as it has the same limestone cliffs that Halong Bay is famous for, rising out of the plains. We were able to get a closer look while cruiusing down a waterway in rowboats, enjoying the cool air and the quiet, the lady in the back rowing with her feet while the other paddled us around some lazy curves, through some caves, past some locals fishing in the shallow water.

At the turn-around we are set upon by ladies in boats, selling drinks and snacks, before setting off on the return journey.

The trip back was a swervy, bumpy nightmare, but the trip down was a good chance to check out life along the highway - the houses in bright hues, their large balconies adorned with twisted chunks of rock as decorations, dusty lanes leading into the fields both wet and dry, stone-carvers work with drills in clouds of white dust, dragons and scroll-work emerging.. cafes waiting for customers with empty red platic chairs…

Our last venture out was an overnight cruise on Halong Bay. Out the window: rice paddies, small villages, cows and buffalo, farmers tilling and hoeing in the empty fields; smokestacks of factories; larger towns with more of those ornate houses built along the road, large-leaved trees lining the streets, and the ever-present cafes with plastic chairs.

The tourist harbor is crowded with boats, all headed out to view the limestone cliffs of the bay. We enjoy a delicious lunch as we sail away into the ever-present haze, and eventually the green-covered islets start to appear. We visit Surprise Cave, which is surpisingly large, the ceiling a fascinating combination of stone smoothed by lapping waves and stalactities formed since the water receded. Junks are at anchor all around… it looks like a pirate cove.

We board kayaks from a jumble of boards and take a peaceful paddle around the nearby islands, before returning to the boat. I enjoy a quiet moment on the prow, legs dangling over the water as the stars appear, the lights of the other boats shining on the water, before spring-roll-making lessons, and a delicious dinner.

The next morning we row through a cave into an other-wise unaccaessible lagoon, where we see cute little monkeys playing on the cliffs, before heading back to the harbor.

We spend our last evening in Hanoi wandering through the night market, soaking up the chaos….

and taking a moment to relax!

Kamakura

2011-11-18T03:47:00.000-08:00

Saturday dawns crisp and clear, the world washed clean by last night's rain, the sun shines strong and bright... south to Kamakura, for a day full of trails and temples, capped off with a nap on the beach...

Tanglets, episode 2 (Alternate title: fun with the iPhone!)

2011-11-08T03:11:00.000-08:00

I love my bike! It carries all sorts of stuff for me, gets me to work in the morning, and always looks bright and cheerful, even early on a Monday morning or at the end of a long day.

I have a slight obsession with photographing the wash basins at the various temples I go to... this one is from Jindaiji Temple. (okay, this one was not taken with the iPhone).

A few weeks ago I got to experience some excellent sushi at a teeny-tiny (7 stools!) sushi shop, thanks to my friend Shannon, who used to live nearby.

Conch cooked right in the shell, next to some fabulous scallops! The prawns were delicious, as were the salmon, tuna, unagi (eel)... I lost track of all the things we tried!

Sneaking behind the counter for a picture with the lovely owners!

Another weekend I was fortunate enough to wander the streets of Nezu, an part of town that still has some old buildings that were not destroyed in the war.

Sipping from coffee from this amazing little place that roasts the beans right under your nose, we enjoyed a puppet show from this famous puppet-maker. Apparently you can send in a picture of yourself or a loved one and have a puppet made in (somewhat) likeness.... so popular there is a waiting list of two years!

Nogawa Koen is one of my favorite things about life here so far....

My daily moment of zen - down from the overpass into a tunnel of green!

Fall blossoms....

It even makes grading math tests more enjoyable, as I found last weekend, parked on my blanket in the sunshine, surrounded by picnicking families!

This past Saturday I went on a little excursion to nearby Mount Takao, which was more enjoyable once the crowds at the main peak were left far behind... though picnickers still abounded at the overlook points, taking in the (somewhat hazy) views of the nearby mountains - including Fuji-san.

Sometimes wandering some-what aimlessly pays off - on this day with a gorgeous lake: crystal clear waters, serene and still and surrounded by trees on the verge of bursting into flames...

Kyoto

2011-10-25T04:19:00.000-07:00

Nozomi 207. Tokyo to Kyoto.

Shinkansen out of the early-morning chill of Tokyo, swooping telephone lines, fields and farms and towns and cities and mountains, the jolting rush of a train on the opposite track, just a blue-yellow blur.

Kyoto station feels a world away, frantic with holiday-weekend sightseers – a reminder that one can be a tourist even within one's own country, Japanese consulting maps and timetables just as I was - the sun seeming so strong for October as I wait in line for what I hope is the right bus.

Hotel successfully located, bag left behind the desk, I waste no time striking off to get started on Kyoto’s impressive list of shrines and temples.

Silver Pavilion (ginkakuji): The sloping street leading up to the entrance is bustling with crowds, shops selling souveneirs, handicrafts, confections and swirls of soft-serve to the many people making their way to and from the temple. I fumble for change to pay my entrance ticket, squinting, wishing it weren’t quite so warm…. but then. A delicious cloud of cool air hovers over the grounds, with its carpet of green moss, rustling trees, unhurried streams, and serene bamboo groves…The ‘silver pavilion’ itself is a lovely building, though never actually covered in silver: perched next to a pond, raked sand emanating patterns from its base. I flow with the crowd along the well-marked path, trying to ignore their presence. Sudden exclamations erupt as the snaking line pauses for tossing coins into the pool – trying to hit the rock in the middle, which I can only assume ups one’s chances of seeing that wish come true. It’s beautiful, but the sheer number of people necessessitates what feels like a hasty visit

Striking off down the Philosopher’s Path (Tetsugaku no michi), I follow the stone walkway along a narrow canal, under cherry trees that are fading graciously into autumn, waiting their turn to show off their spring-time beauty.

Hon-en Temple: Now this is peace. Mossy earth and gnarled limbs, the steady flow of water, the scrape of brooms gathering leaves, chanting floating on the air. Sunlight filters onto cool stone, red cedar trunks catching the rays, as I wander among the stoic, silent tombstones.

The Path leaves me near the entrance to Nanzen-ji Temple, with it’s massive entrance gate, colossal temple buildings….and…. an aqueduct.

Red brick and out of place, full of people taking pictures, attempting to jump into a string of empty archways at just the right moment.

The path along the top just begs to be followed, and I leave with the temple itself unexplored, opting instead for a quiet walk with views of the city.

At the end is an old railway bed, now laid with a semblence of stepping-stones, the momentum of the downhill slope carries my feet between them…

Templed out for the day, I head back to check into my hotel. My room is the perfect coexistence of traditional (tatami mats, futon bed, small rock garden just outside) and modern (private bathroom). After a brief regroup, I head off into the growing darkness…

Swept up by a crowd of young people leaving some sort of festival, I let myself be pulled along towards what I (correctly) assume is the direction of downtown. Along the river, figures sit on the concrete banks – couples, families, friends – lit by the light spilling from the restaurants lining the river, as the cool air of evening sweeps down, and the full moon rises.

Down the main entertainment street –trees line the small canal that splits street in two; the night is clearly just beginning, people scoping out options for dinner as menu boards and pretty girls with signs try to entice the passers-by. At the end is the main shopping street, so bright it makes me squint, and loud with the noise of a holiday weekend. I tire of the retail (which seems to be quite the same, no matter where you are) and head back towards the quieter area of town I am staying in, stopping for a well-recommended bowl of ramen.

Day 2

Life is stirring at Fushimi-Inari as dawn breaks – monks completing their cleansing ritual, drummmers preparing for the day’s festival – and I am joined by the other early-rising few: the walkers, the joggers, and the pilgrims, stopping to throw coins with a clank, give a sharp clap, and ring the bell with a clang.

Up the hillside stretch the bright red torii, emitting an incandescent glow in the shady dawn. Thousands upon thousands.... and passing beneath the first has the feeling of a beginning…. I vasciallate between awed and reverent silence and frantic camera clicking. New gates shine bright red, their kanji a bold splash of black; the dull stone of older gates an intermittent reminder of a history that is unknown, but for the moment irrelevant.

I meet the sun at the top of the mountain, where I catch my breath as other hikers sit and rest on benches in front of the unopened teahouse... and then leave them behind. Further up and further in. Astounded at the constant canopy of red.

Small shrines and tea-houses appear at intervals – mini-torii, an abundance of fox statues, a place to make an offering and a bell to ring. Stirrings in the tea-houses as the proprieters ready for the day.

A small grotto found by following the sound of trickling water. The torii dissapate as I follow the path down the other side of the mountain along a trickling stream, breathing deep of the morning air.

Just when I think I could be alone in the universe. Or perhaps even transported to another, with the music of falling water, the ancient scent of mossy stone....

...the glow of candles. Lit by faith, or magic, or ghosts, but surely not by human hands.

The nagging thought of further discoveries pulls me from this place, down into the world again…

A brief stop at Tofuku-ji as it opened, few people about, and the opportunity to appreciate the grandeur of the main gate in relative silence.

On to Sanjusangen-do, to see the 1001 Statues of Buddha.

This is all I know, as I take my shoes off and pad into the entrance-way, not sure what to expect, but with mental images of small buddha statues scatted about the floor. How wrong I am.

The smoke of incense invades my nostrils, stings my eyes. The hall opens up to my right.

Spiky lines of symmetry erupt from the ranks of life-size statues, glinting gold in the soft light, stretching away to the dim reaches of the hall. Seemingly identical until you take them in – subtle differences in the drape of the clothing, the clasp of the fingers, the slit of the eyes, the objects held in their sea of hands. Fierce statues of gods stand guard. In the center sits the Thousand-Armed Kannon, seated in a lotus flower, eyes closed and palms together, in a swirl of grasping hands, as wind chimes hang silent above her head.

I loiter before exiting, marveling at the craftsmanship, the sheer numbers…. It’s a heady feeling to realize that you must take this in, here and now, in the almost-certain event that you never return…

On the flip side to my reflective morning, Kiyomizu-dera welcomes me with bright orange, gaudy green, and a crush of people which make the dark wood beams and the beautiful view from the balcony slightly less impressive.

I bypass the line for sipping from the wish-granting waters and wander out down the busy street, stopping to satisfy my curiosity about the cucumbers-on-a-stick… cold, slightly spiced and delicious, a perfect snack for a sunny day. (and, as I was reassured by the lovely lady selling them, it was okay to consume it while walking down the street, a practice reserved for very few portable food items, such as ice-cream.)

Some beautiful old streets take to me to a shady rest in the park before returning to my hotel for a much-needed nap!

My evening wanderings take me through the famed geisha district of Gion. The streets are beautiful, but quiet, save the gaijin (foreigners) snapping photos.

I meet up with my friend Shannon, also out and about from Tokyo, and we swap travelling stories and eat Korean barbeque, creating a smoky haze as we order through a combination of Japlish, iPhone translations, and pictures of cows (no, I'm sorry sir, we don't want cow stomach. not the first one OR the fourth one).

Day 3

The morning haze lasts just long enough to provide a nice even light for my viewing of kinkakuji: the golden pavilion, one of Kyoto’s most famed sites, floating serenely on a still pond.

I ride the bus to Arashiyama, an area with countless shrines, temples and gardens stretching up into the hills from the rather ‘touristy’ main street.

I make my way first to my main objective – the bamboo forest. It is quite a lovely wander:

At this point, my feet are aching from all the walking I’ve done over the past few days and I’ve reached the saturation level for temple and shrine viewing, so I head back to Kyoto’s main train station to wait for my train… and this beautiful, super-modern building has enough to keep me entertained while I wait… shops, restaurants, bars and coffee shops… a city within a city!

Travelling solo in Japan was a wonderful experience. I felt safe, was able to walk a vast majority of the time, there are vending machines everywhere to cater to my needs for hydration and caffeination… as well as clean public toilets (with toilet paper!), and most major bus and train routes have the stations marked in English.

Kyoto is a beautiful place with so much that is ancient and sacred, yet at the same time so modern…. Example: walking under a seemingly endless line of bright lights, stores and stores and stores… interrupted suddenly by the dark, smoky, incense-filled entrance to a temple, nestled in all the retail madness.

This is what I have found most fascinating about Japan so far, the juxtaposition of old and new, sacred and secular, noisy and peaceful….. I can't wait to continue exploring, puzzling, and reflecting.

Tanglets...

2011-10-04T05:35:00.000-07:00

...because they can't be tangents if there wasn't a topic to begin with...

***

A typhoon bears down on Tokyo, early dismissal just in time, kids shrieking and running for the busses, staff scattering to our homes… and all my thoughts of work are banished, I can’t focus on a book, as the wind howls and rain slaps against my windows. I hunker down, drink wine, stream TV, slightly on edge as darkness falls - until the wind blows itself out and I relax into sleep...the next day dawns bright and shining clear, but the carpet of green leaves torn asunder is a solid reminder that I did not imagine it all…

****

A rainy and chilly morning transforms magically into a crisp and cool afternoon… blue sky clear and pale, high-flying clouds, park lawns and paths crowded but (as always) it seems the sound is on mute as my tires whir.

****

Saturday dawned autumn, and I headed out on my bike to Jindaiji temple, marveling at the indescribable but oh-so-recognizable perfection, inhaling deep, as if I could breathe in the sky, let it inhabit my lungs and flow in my veins....

Monks chant as I approach the cleansing smoke, my steps sounding too loud as I crunch across the gravel. I feel a bit like an intruder, but approach nonetheless, tossing my coin into the wooden slats with a clink, taking in the sacred, making it mine, offering a moment of thanks and appreciation....

Shops and restaurants line the road, getting ready for the day, the usual silence broken by clinking dishes and the occasional conversations, the ‘irasshaimase’ of the girls selling sticky balls of rice and steamed dumplings…

Groups of suited and somber people start to appear, and as I wander down a path I happen upon a cemetery - granite headstones, bright spots of fresh flowers, and the spikes of wooden slats… it’s the weekend of the equinox, and these groups of people gather around graves to pay respect to the dead – some merely following tradition, stoic faces. others clearly in the newer stages of grief... and I slip quietly away…

****

sock-clad feet shift in ryhthm

to gain a moment’s reprieve

from night-chilled boards

the silence is sharp

as the morning air

til the rooster’s call

shatters it into stirring fragments

the sun slides up,

fresh,

turning the mist from

pink to milky white

where the base of of the great mountain

rises from the hills

We started off to KEEP (our grade 6 trip to the Kiyasato Educational Experiment Project) under deep blue skies, chatting and laughing and straining at seat belts. Surprisingly soon we are spilling from the bus to the sight of a grassy field sloping away from us, drawing our eyes to green hills, and beyond, Mount Fuji’s cone rising smooth and sporting a dusting of new snow.

Advisory pictures, lunch in the sunshine, then off on a hike – up the sun-baked road and into the welcome cool of the woods, up and down and around…. picking our way down along a trickling creek, stones and moss and muck, dipping hands into the ice-cold water, exclaiming at hoof-prints in the dark earth…. Up a rocky hill, around bends, under shady boughs and into squinting sun… the final strectch a stony, dizzying attempt to stay on our feet…

Our reward is fresh, delicious ice-cream, enjoyed on the patio as kids run and play. As the air cools towards evening we split off to settle into our cabins, claiming beds and negotiating the shower order… dinner and evening activities stretching us into tiredness….hot chocolate and teeth-brushing and some late-night stargazing and giggling as the girls delay bedtime…

The sun continues to grace us with her presence on day two, as we collect treasures to piece together into works of art with the aid of hot glue, tape and imagination. Our afternoon walk reveals interesting nature facts and nifty tricks (if you walk with a mirror under your eyes, you see the canopy as a dormouse sees it! You can turn a blade of grass into a whistle! This small green berry holds a powerfully potent citrus scent!), and gives us a chance to milk a cow as she gazes at us with large, patient eyes.

I have two lovely hours of freedom this night, and I sink into my book and luxuriate in a hot shower before going back to collect my charges, hyped up from scary stories and past the point of tired… we wind down with some hangman and hot chocolate as the fog rolls in.

A flurry of packing the final morning, breakfast followed by some free time to shop, eat ice cream (still delicious at 9 am), buy souveneirs, and watch the cows that appear in the neighboring field, phantoms in the mist that covers the mountains this morning.

We shake cream to make butter as the sun, butter-yellow herself, starts to force her way through, and we board the bus to return to the stifling heat of the city....

*****

Saturday soundtrack: neighboring school hosts some sort of festival. music, singing, cheering, and (when curiosity finally gets the best of me) dancing.

*******

....then something happened, on a seemingly innocuous, if somewhat cloudy, sunday afternoon.

I put on a sweatshirt.

And I eyed the sundresses hanging in my closet and realized I won’t be wearing them until spring.

And what is this feeling my feet are getting? Is this coziness? From being encased by SOCKS?

*****

Feet cold this morning on the bike ride to work. Swan song of the sandals.

Sunset in Nogawa. Fall blooms – (who knew such a thing existed!) pink and white and yellow and crimson, dog-walkers and joggers and bikers, kids playing in the stream and running in the grass.

****

"October is a symphony of permanence and change."

-Bonaro W. Overstreet

And so it is.

Shrines of all shapes and sizes...

2011-09-11T04:40:00.000-07:00

What happens when you drag your tired self out on a Friday night?

Short answer: 2 am jam session in an izakaya.

The long answer:

You discover a neigborhood that (like so many) you didn’t know existed, with a pulsing late-night bright-light beat.

You learn that the bar you are going to is run by a Minnesotan, has live music every night, and feels like a concert in your living room.

You hear great live music from some fellow teachers.

You ride the train home packed in like sardines, holding on for dear life as the crush of people sways as one.

You stop for a bite to eat near the station and discover delicious food…

And as the talk turns to music, the guitars come out, playing and singing commence, with neighboring young people joining in, waitresses listening, and the rest of the patrons staring at you as you make your way out into the moonlit streets.

************

Kichijoji is an area of town a mere three train stations away, and this Saturday I spend a few hours exploring, from the bustling shopping area of Sun Road....

To the peace and quiet of Inokashira park.

My wander through the park reveals the usual (walkers, joggers, nappers, readers, paddle-boats that look like swans), the weekend attractions (the puppet show, the man making balloon animals), the performance artists (the poet reading his works aloud, walking in circles as he shares his wisdom, the man playing the electric keyboards). …

Today is a matsuri - a festival day where the people of the nearby areas parade through the streets with their mikoshi, portable shinto shrines. I leave the park just in time to one the shrine procession take off - heaving the shrine onto their shoulders using long wooden planks, surrounded by others all wearing the name of their area, moving through the streets as the policemen clear the way. They chant, bobbing and moving in rhythm in their cloven white shoes. I follow shamelessly in tourist mode, clicking away.

(This next one might be my favorite from the day!)

I leave them as they turn down a side street and head into the chaos of Sun Road, where more groups are approaching. Many shoppers continue with their business, barely paying attention, but I am fascinated at what is happening, trying to process the the juxtaposition of this ancient religion and the Shoe Plaza that is a terrible background for all my photos.

After seeing my fill of mikoshi I wander off, down the shopping street as it leaves the busy station and enters a stretch of apartments, shops, and restaurants. The usual quiet has returned, low murmurs of conversation and spinning bike tires interspersed with occasional spurts of children's laughter.

Back again, and into a maze of tight alleys full of restaurants, popping out into the bright sun and girls with microphones trying to entice me into their electronics stores, then down below to a whole world beneath the train station - delicious air conditioning, gourmet treats, clothes....

Sunday brings an excursion to a shrine a bit farther afield...

..with a beautiful garden and koi pond in the back and a beautiful set of torii (gates)...

..and a great shrine sale, a great place to browse and photograph....

It was a good weekend full of explorations, adventures, and getting to know my new people and my new city. Has the transition been perfect? Of course not. This is new territory for me, this packing up and leaving a life behind, and trying to carve out a new one here is not without its challenges. My past adventures have begun because of the inevitable and expected end of a phase in my life, but this was a choice. It was easy to be so sure from the comfort of summer vacation, but there are moments where I do miss the life I left behind...and usually those moments are the challenging ones, when I miss the security of knowing and being known. Being at a new school is hard work; collaborating closely with others who teach the same course is something I deeply appreciate but am having to shift my mind and my habits into. I love the connections I am forging here already, but of course I miss my friends and colleagues who have been in my life for the past 5 years....

...and I still can't translate my microwave!

These challenges are also opportunities for growth. I'm content to take them on in exchange for the rest of it, and as I coast through a shaded section of park each morning, I am so thankful to be here.

Shrine from Erin Wick on Vimeo.

Three weeks in....

2011-08-28T05:05:00.000-07:00

.... and I feel confident that coming here was an excellent decision!

I won't bore you with the details of settling in (lots of getting shuttled around in a van, shopping, apartment hunting, decorating decisions, exploring, sweating in the heat, meeting people and promptly forgetting their names, using only the Japanese words I'm confident with, jet lagging, and anything else you can imagine associated with moving).

Now I've moved on to more interesting pursuits - putting together the shelves, organizing my stuff, trying to figure out the various appliances (me + washing machine + translator app = clean clothes!), deciphering the garbage/recycling calendar and instructions (even in English, I was at first perplexed), learning how to ride my bike without crashing/falling over, and looking for the perfect local restaurant to by 'my place.'

My apartment is wonderful - very spacious and on a corner with lots of natural light (which includes, for better or worse, the 5 am sunrise!). Things are almost put together - just waiting for my couch to be delivered!

(I'm on the top floor on the right).

(My couch is green, so that should make the room a lot more interesting!)

My neighborhood is excellent - very quiet (sometimes a bit too quiet), but close to both a main train line and the line that goes to school. There are restaurants and shops that I'm still getting to know, but I can also take the train a few stops to more happening areas if I feel the need.

I've done a bit of exploring downtown, yesterday there was a folk-dancing festival that was great entertainment, and a great opportunity to get the camera out:

School starts tomorrow, and I am ready for the return of a routine, and to see those smiling faces!

This was hardly a thorough post, but more will follow soon. There are of course some challenges (which can be amusing if you let them, but I'll get to those later. For now, I will leave you with a list of things I have been enjoying:

Iced coffee in cans dispensed from vending machines, on average every 10 meters
Noodles!
Parks - my morning commute by bike or foot is 50% through the lovely Nogawa park.
My window nook (I’m sitting there now!)
The other new folks as well as the returning faculty - everyone has been so welcoming!
Not falling off my bike (yet), and the freedom a bike gives me to get places.
Constant discoveries - just turning one block earlier on the walk home brings surprises!
Not having a car
Efficiency! Lots of efficiency!
The garbage collection truck plays a happy song to facilitate a last-minute bag
Trees
Rain

Sayounara for now!

What's in a name?

2011-08-04T11:56:00.000-07:00

Midway through my first year in Dubai, I wrote the following post:

"Just as I find myself settling in, things are changing all around me.

It's the time of year when international schools start looking ahead, when teachers decide to move on or move back, when schools make tough decisions about who to let go and who to bring in, when we all start thinking about how long we'll be here...

we live our lives like it's forever - make friends, fall in love, find routines and favorite views, open our heart to people and places; willingly set ourselves up for a fall - because people will leave, move on... and so will I.

Someday, a new adventure. A new city to explore, a new experience to embrace - changes that bring the giddy excitement of the unkown...
...and the ache that comes with leaving.

i already miss two places, two sets of faces, two climates... a dull ache that flares with a simple reminder... how many lives will i miss before i say "enough"?

perhaps that's why we keep moving - because without the next great adventure, we'd be left alone with only our missing.

I could shut myself out, keep my distance, knowing that my existence here is not forever; keep my heart safe from hurt, move on before i feel too much.

but that would negate the whole purpose that I feel right now - to know the joy of new places, the company of friends, and the knowledge of old friends and good memories waiting to be relived, the amazing people I have known and will know - and the peace that comes from being content with where i am right now, and also being content with the unknown that lies in front of me, knowing that it is better to have lived and lost, than never to have lived at all."

Little did I imagine the adventures in store for me in the next four years... two trips to the edge of the earth and back, an unforgettable African adventure, explorations of countries now embroiled in conflict...

if i could go back in time and counsel my earlier self, i would have agreed with her on some level: the act of moving on brings a certain amount of sadness. but i would disagree with her wholeheartedly on the point that i would keep moving to keep from missing what was left behind.

there was so much to love about my life in dubai, but there were also so many subtle hints that my time had come... and i don't regret leaving, nor do i regret staying that last year. the friendships I made over those five years have not ended, they have just enriched and expanded my world a little farther. and while even at this moment, sitting at my gate in the airport, i have a hard time imagining the new adventure i am about to embark on, i know that it will indeed be an adventure, and that the unknown is part of what makes it so appealing.

i set out with the intention to live my life in Tokyo to the fullest, to embrace the wonders and the challenges, live the life like it's forever.
because right now, it is.

my blog may not have the perfect name yet, but I know that there will be plenty of wonderful, fascinating, puzzling, and frightening experiences to share in the coming weeks, months, and years.

stay tuned :)