Golden Week

Golden Week in Japan is what Memorial Day weekend is to the US. Everyone feels compelled to jump in their car and visit something. Only in Japan, Golden Week strings together 4 national holidays. It's a mad busy time. Here's my story. I wrote it in an email to Can the other day. It's a rushed, stream-of-thought piece (with horrific verb tense consistencies), but I think it fits the way I felt during most of the trip. Foggy from a lack of sleep, but determined to keep moving and to see and experience it all.

Leave Ota by night bus. It's raining. I sleep little. Arrive in Osaka at 8. Osaka is a big city. Aaron said it felt like New York. Main road is 10 lanes wide with an elevated highway above. Stumble around for the hotel. Ask everyone. Eventually find it. Capsule hotel. 25 dollars a night. Leave our bags. Get caffeine and food. Get on train to Nara. Is crowded. Walk. Tame deer everywhere in Nara Park. I feed a deer, pet a deer, pose for pictures with deer. Scruffy things. Force fed by hundreds of tourists who buy $1.50 bundles of "deer cookies." Look at temples and pagodas. Nothing special. Seen em at Kyoto and Tokyo. They look the same to me now. Keep walking. Wandering into a festival! Get okonomiyaki and grilled bamboo on a stick. Eat under a tree. Two young girls a few paces from us stop, turn inward, giggle. Courage gathered, they approach with a bag of chewy sours. They offer a piece to each of us, then sit down next to us. The process reminds me of how I had earlier approached the deer by offering bread. They are excited by our foreignness. We talk and giggle and take pictures before returning them to their mother who doesn't seem to mind that her two kids have been talking with strangers away from her sight. That's Japan for you. We walk on to the big attraction--Buddha. On the way I am stopped by two HS girls on an English assignment. Am interviewed. Name? Country? Have you eaten Japanese food? Do you like Nara? Where in Japan have you been? They give me a self-made pamphlet on Nara's deer, my name done in hiragana, and a promise to send a post card to my home (US) address. Awesome! Keep walking. Biggest Buddha in Japan. Housed inside the biggest wooden building in Japan. Both are jaw dropping. Japan is beautiful. Return to Osaka exhausted. Go out for food and drinks.

Day2 we get up early. Breakfast at the capsule hotel is nice. Two thick pieces of bread, hard boiled egg, and unlimited caffeine. No room there for a second night. We move on. Can't find the hotel we had previously booked. Walk into another and get a room. 15 dollars a night. Pallets on the floor. Neighborhood is Japan's dirtiest. Smells like piss. Get on Shinkansen to Hiroshima. Costs mucho dinero. 90 dollars one way. Only takes 1.5 hours for over 300 km though. We zoom. My ears hum and pop with pressure. Everyone but me sleeps. I write and watch the scenery fly. Trees and ocean glimpses. Small populations. Hiroshima is bigger than I thought it would be. We get confused about how to get to the Peace Park. Take the wrong bus, get off, get a taxi. Peace Park is having a festival. It's Greenery Day. Dance troupes. Concerts. A wedding. We pay our 50 cents to get into the museum. It's crowded. Devastating pictures. A watch stopped at 8:15. Small in its case, unworthy of the symbolism. There's a gift shop mid-way through. Sells t-shirts and history books. Modest, but still seems inappropriate. I tear up at the tricycle and helmet that were once buried with a 3 year old victim. Crusted with dirt and rust. A father's desire for safety, the helmet, did nothing. The child's belief in play, the tricycle, brought to a stop. The innocence of both were on display, buried, exhumed, made into relics. I hurry through the rest. Not listening to the tracks on my audio guide. Outside, a wedding on the main stage. Young girls dance to 80s music on a secondary stage. Large paper statues of cranes rise behind me on a lawn. I wait for my friends to emerge.

We all continue down the Peace Park. We stop at the monument to the girl who made 1000 cranes while dieing from radiation cancer. While looking, a Japanese man approaches us and makes small talk. Introduces himself as "Sun-flower." He directs us to a bench and takes pictures of us. First as a group, then just our faces. It's like a line-up. We aren't sure what he means do to with those photos.

We cross a bridge and see the remains of the A-Bomb Building. The fragile dome. The stripped walls. The rubble they never carted away. It's more moving than the museum. While looking there, a baseball game ends and crowds of people happy with their jerseys and sporty exhilaration flood the sidewalks. It's hard to be solemn in such celebration. Hiroshima was a self-contained lesson in disaster and the ability to recover, reconcile, and move through pain. It's impossible to look at the A-Bomb Building without seeing the modern towers rising up behind it.

On the Shinkansen back we are goofy. Is it the lack of sleep, or the need for relief from the day's emotions? We sleep early that night.

Day3. It's our last. We go to Himeji as early as we can. It's an hour away and 15 dollars. We have breakfast at place that has spent too much money on their tables. Heavy marble. I have spicy rice and miso soup. We walk towards the castle through a shopping corridor. It's manic. Finally we spot the castle in the distance. It's beautiful. Himeji is Japan's most famous castle. It's white and majestic. The crowds are immense. 6 bucks to enter,but it's worth it. Even the crowds couldn't keep me from enjoying the place. I find it hard to describe. Powerful. Elegant. We walked around in circles through 50 foot stone walls. The modern city laid out below seemed weak and inadequate. We stood in lines for hours to wind our way through the 6 floors of the main castle. Passed by displays of armor, swords, paintings, guns. The top floor had a shrine. Back in the town I bought omiyage for the staff, lusted after some rose flavored ice cream at a closed shop, and wandered into a festival set up for whatever holiday it was that day. Lunch was had at one of those festival tents. We all ate from the vendor that sold hot dogs coated in cheese rolled in an omelet, covered in ketchup, drizzled with mayonnaise. It was delicious and deadly.

Post Himeji, we went back to Osaka. Picked up our bags at The Sun Plaza and made our way to the bus station. Ate dinner at the station at an over priced Indian place. My mutton masala was 13 dollars. One more hour to kill meant shopping. I bought 3 complementary bracelets from an Indian import store for 9 dollars. Some gum for the road. A bottled tea. Our bus was nearly half an hour late. We boarded. I began a book. They turned out the light at 930 to the disgruntlement of all our group. Got some decent sleep. Woke at 330 in desperate need to go the bathroom. No toilet on the bus. Muster the courage to ask the bus driver about a bathroom. Am rewarded with an answer, and a good one at that. 10 more miles. Dawn at 5. I'm awake. Arrive in Ota at 7. Our group splits. I board a train to Kizaki. Get off the train. Can't find my bike. I circle the lot three times. It's missing. Someone has stolen my bicycle. Am sad, but too tired to feel deeply. Walk home. Fall asleep shortly afterwards.

Pictures are in the sidebar.

Mushaboom!

I was waiting on a bench at the train station. I turned my head at the hesitating "Cai-t-lin" to see a student from 3A cautiously approaching me. He was not dressed in his uniform. It was refreshing to see him in clothes he picked. I was relieved to see that his selection was unlike the outrageous, glam-rocker look that is popular with both girls and boys here. I was excited that he had the courage to talk to me. It also made me happy since if I can meet people I know at the train station, then Japan is not so big; I am not so foreign.

Riding the train together, we talked about our weekends and our favorite foods. Good for him for being able to communicate in English for ten minutes. Does Kizaki give extra credit?

Parting at the train station in Ota, he headed off to Aeon Mall, and I and Odelia having found each other, headed off in search of the Mushroom Festival.

Odelia had seen the posters around town. Details were scarce, but there was to be a festival and parade of mushrooms from a temple on Ota's only mountain, Kanayama, to the City Hall.

We didn't quite know where the temple was, but armed with a map and the correct cardinal direction, we headed off. Within 20 minutes we had found a temple, but it didn't seem like the right one. Luckily, a man came into sight up the hill, and we rushed to ask him for directions. Cleverly, Odelia had taken a photo of the mushroom event poster. The man took a look and began pointing and swiggling his hand about. Seeing our confusion, he began retracing his steps down the hill, waving for us to follow him. He led us all the way to the temple where dozens of people were milling about in anticipation of the event.

A quick speech was made, the dignitaries in attendance clapped, the marchers began their trek, and the news cameras rolled. Unlike everyone else, Odelia and I decided to follow alongside the parade as they walked into downtown Ota.

The march was a recreation of how mushrooms from Ota were carried from Kanayama to Tokyo in whatever day it was that Ota was famous for its fungi. (As opposed to today's claim to fame: hostess bars. Ota truly is one of Japan's cultural capitals.)

At the end of the parade route, organizers of the event, perhaps amazed that someone (foreigners, even!) had cared enough to follow alongside, came up to us and gave us the free lunch that those in the parade were enjoying. It was mushroom soup and rice with mushrooms in it. It was delicious. It was another example of Japanese warm-heartedness and their penchant for bizarre celebrations.

Pictures of the event are in the sidebar.