My buddy Caleb wrote an impressive blog about his trip to Japan. I've decided to share it with all of you. His memory is superior to mine, so he's covered things that I forgot to mention in my previous posts. Moreover, he's approached many of the same subjects in his own unique fashion, creating a fascinating, and often hilarious, new perspective. Most importantly, he concluded the story, which means I don't have to. Yay!
Please enjoy.
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Japan: what a country. Eighteen days in this country deserves a nice recap. Being my first time off the North American continent, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect; as it is the Far East – a bit different from America. My friend Patrick has lived in Japan for over a year now and has informed me a bit on what to expect, but still, some elements of Japan could only be understood in personal encounters: the offensive gawking from the natives, coughing or sneezing in your face, pure contempt of outsiders, no soap or hand towels in the bathrooms, eye-patch fashion, androgynous Japanese guys, the fascination with the weed leaf (although none of them know what it actually is), and the total inability of any inhabitant to pronounce – even mutter – my name. Good for me that I drank incessantly on the trip. I had the option to go anywhere I wanted post-graduation, and the two main candidates for selection were Europe and Japan. I wisely chose Japan. After much logistical planning, I deduced that it would be best to spend over two weeks, but under three – I opted to spend eighteen days total in Japan. My friend and I went through some various options – where to go and what to do when there – and in the end we chose Hiroshima over Tokyo. Tokyo would have been a bit too much, with the flight there, and, since it is one of the most expensive cities in the world, our budgets would have run a bit over our means. Hiroshima was definitely a great decision for a visit while in Japan. Patrick has a job, something I've been bereft of since January, so his trip was a bit shorter than mine. While he was working, I made other plans for trips within Japan while alone. Another major city I desired to experience was Osaka, and planned a week's trip while my friend was working. Again, a wise decision. After more logistical planning, I made all my final reservations and flight dates for the trip and solidified my time in Nippon. I was scheduled to leave the States on September 18th, and arrive in Japan on the 19th, since they are eight hours ahead. I chose to spend the night before my departure drinking with friends. Why not? A nice cap before a trip; and one might expect that such a night might induce sleep – not the case with Calebo. Sleep was not available for me that night (as is the case on many nights), so I stayed awake all night expecting to be devoid of any urge to remain awake in flight, but was wrong. I didn't catch any sleep for the next two days.
With all my goodies packed and ready, my dad and I set out for Santa Ana airport five a.m. that morning for my flight that left at seven-thirty. I boarded my flight to San Francisco for a connecting flight from there to Kansai International airport. After roughly seventeen hours of travel time, I finally arrived in Japan. Plans and all the information I needed in hand, I left the airport headed for the bus station. During the flight to Japan I spoke a bit with the passenger to my right. As we exited the airport, we ran into each other again. I discovered that he was a Japanese national studying business management at the University of Northern Las Vegas, coming home to visit his family for seventeen days. He asked where I was headed. I told him that I was taking the bus to Sannomiya. He offered to help confirm that the bus I was taking was the proper one, even asking the bus driver if it was and that I had the right ticket. I soon came to learn that such welcoming hospitality and willingness to devote time is ubiquitously Japanese. After thanking my fellow passenger, I boarded the bus and set out for Sannomiya. Sixty-five minutes later I arrived at the bus stop in Sannomiya. Looking around, I, of course, had no idea where I was. I was scheduled to meet Patrick there, but he had yet to arrive. I sat in place and watched another couple who had also just arrived in Japan meet with their friends just next to me. They welcomed each other, and one girl, who I assumed lived in Japan, even welcomed me to Japan, but being as tired as I was I only looked up and presented a feeble grin and sat on the small wall behind me. Approximately five minutes later Patrick walked around the corner to my left. He laughed, and greeted me with the line of "ha, skinhead!" Apparently, he hadn't seen my new, shorter haircut for a while. All I could mutter was a desire for food.
I placed my luggage in a locker and we set out looking for food. We settled on one location of a chain of restaurants that served traditional Japanese rice bowls. It was a welcome meal after the pittance offered on the airplane trip there. After the small feast of necessary sustenance, we headed out to enact our plans for that night. Patrick had befriended the guitarist of a popular J-Heavy Metal band named Harvest. I quickly discovered why he and other Gaijin were fond of the band. But before we could begin the night, we had to find the place. We set out looking for the place called Art House. Public maps in Japan proved more obsolete each time I found one, so we tried finding the location without it. After a good twenty minutes of searching, Patrick got a call from a friend who lives on Awaji-Shima (his place of residence), Kumiko. We met with her in Tit Park, or at least planned to. She waited nearly a minute and felt that we were late, and she left. He called her back and she returned about three minutes later. Kumi and I were introduced and we began walking around the park area. The definition of a park in Japan is very loose, as most are simply small concrete areas with no grass and strange sculptures placed within that concrete area. And of course, they are full of idle Japanese youth. After discovering that I was a speaker of German, Kumiko tried a few German lines she knew of; I returned the favor. Soon after we asked if she knew where to find our desired location, and could set us to it. She obliged. We asked her if she wanted to meet us in Osaka the next weekend, to which she assented, but later flaked on us. After goodbyes, we ascended the stairs and went to the show.
We reached the door of the club to find a very attractive Japanese girl attending the door, with a very Western look: bleached hair and blue eyes (contacts no doubt). She spoke pure and rapid Japanese, but Patrick speaks the local tongue well enough to manage. We paid our two thousand Yen and entered. We each had a drink ticket, but I gave mine to Pato, since I had only one desire at the time: sleep. We scanned the room and tried to figure out what to do until the bands began. We stood in place and chose not to care about anything until the music began. It wasn't too long of a wait until the bands began, and Harvest was up first. They were great entertainers. During the show we met a group of (too) young Japanese fans who were very drunk and passing around a bottle of whiskey. They offered me the bottle, I declined and we began 'moshing' – Japanese style. After Harvest wrapped up, a less than interesting band followed, but the third and last band, Snake Bite Snake, was entertaining as well. Between Harvest and the second band, one of the very young attendees that we met that night introduced Pato and I to some nice, young, very attractive Japanese girls who attended the local Hyogo-prefectural University. Thus began the language barrier, a problem that followed my adventure the entire trip. The young fan asked which girl we each preferred. Of course, being greedy, I chose both. Too bad I was too far removed from the situation to contribute any effort. Pato and I were both tired, me especially from the twelve-hour flight I had just dealt with, and the two day absence of sleep. But it's Japan, these opportunities are numerous and widely available. An apt analogy: beautiful women are to Japan, as stupid, inattentive assholes are to America – they're everywhere! We enjoyed the rest of the show with our new-found companions, when another Awaji JET, Phil, decided to make a stop to visit us on his way to a rave in Osaka. Yes, raves occur in Japan as well and, even though they are highly illegal in Japan, drugs were available in every form and desire, with sentries posted to watch for the pig patrol. But raves aren't exactly an enjoyable outlet for me, so thankfully such an event wasn't on our itinerary. The girls soon had to leave for somewhere that I couldn't understand, and we continued to enjoy the show with our remaining cohorts. Post-show we met with the band members of Harvest near the back of the club. We chilled until Pato and I decided our next move for the beginning of our coming trip. After an exhausting night (for me), Pato and I debated between spending the night at a capsule hotel in Kobe, or heading back to Awaji for the night, to head off for Hiroshima the next day. We opted for Awaji. But before we departed the club and the company of our drunk companions, the girls returned just as we were leaving. Schade! One of many missed opportunities on the trip. Sleeping on the very cramped bus to Awaji was hard but incrementally accomplished. We awoke, staggered to Pato's flat down the street and passed out. The next afternoon we had lunch at a popular local restaurant, I took some pictures of the Awaji temples and local residents, and we set out for the Hiroshima adventure.
We bussed back to Kobe and took the Shinkansen (bullet train) to Hiroshima. It was quick but expensive, and very full. Upon arrival we quickly found our hostel, which was very nice – much more than I expected. Our room was a three bed dorm. Pato and I had our beds, and there was one more occupant claiming the futon. We never saw our roommate, but we did see his belongings and a box. Pato and I pondered the box's contents, assuming it was porn or drugs. This guy must have been one crazy party freak, as he never slept while we were there, and there was evidence that he stopped by the room twice only, evidently to sleep briefly and open his bag. After a brief interlude, we decided our plans for the night and went out into the city. Before daylight fell we managed to get our first glimpse of three of the atomic bomb dome. We searched for food, to which Pato suggested we sample the local specialty, Okkonomiyaki. This dish is addictively delicious. I instantly wanted more. Later that night we went bar-hunting, only to find tiny dive-bars everywhere. We first tried a local Irish pub which turned out to be full of Gaijin, mostly military who seemed to assume that I was a fellow moron, due to my short haircut. We relaxed in the corner and watched one of the morons pass out drunk on the floor as his fellow idiots dragged him along to the exit. Good fun. We left only to find more dive bars, but one in particular was fun enough stay the night. Mac's Bar was a small, Australian-owned bar with good (and loud) music and a girl who proved to be a one-person dancing machine. Pato and I chilled in the corner. Some people talked to us as we sat there, none of which really interested me enough to pay attention. Save for one. A young local businessman approached me, very drunk, to inform me that his co-worker had noticed me and wanted to meet. Apparently, she was too shy to say it person. Much of what he said was too stammered to catch, since his English wasn't up to speed. I repeatedly told him to fetch her, but he didn't understand, even after Pato translated. He eventually went back to the other side of the bar and was never seen again. Unbeknownst to me initially, she had come over to my side and was sitting in the corner to my left. We soon made our introductions and chatted for a while. She spoke perfect English. Strange, because she first sent her non-English-speaking co-worker over to me to make introductions. It would have been much easier speaking to her from the inception. A song began that she liked and we danced a few times in the crowded bar (although I was volunteered for it by Pato, and I hate dancing). We soon sat again, and danced again not too long after. She provided her info and we scheduled our next meeting. During our discussion, Pato had voyaged to the other side of the bar. There he chanced across a very attractive half-breed girl sitting at the bar. He stopped and asked her to dance. She declined, but soon gave a reason: she claimed to be far too drunk, even to stand. Apparently she didn't look that drunk, but Pato decided not to pursue the issue any further. Two other Gaijin standing nearby had witnessed this event. They soon moved over to the girl and began chatting with her, and she seemed more amiable with them than Pato, as if she knew them well. But their discussion didn't last too long, for she soon jolted out of her seat and made a mad-dash for the bathroom. It seemed she was that drunk after all. During the final duration of our stay many drunken women would slide over in our direction and mutter a few slurred Japanese words that neither Pato nor I could catch. One braless girl appeared to be very cold… By this point many of the patrons were far too sloshed to be of any interest, and most of the girls had left the bar. We soon left the bar in search of others. We tried a few, but they proved to be uneventful and lackluster. After our last attempt, Pato was in need of using the facilities, but decided to chance raining over the rail of the staircase. Soon after he started we heard some people talking loudly, but could tell where they were. He and I quickly descended a staircase, only to find a very creepy-looking cat staring at us in the dark. Stray cats are everywhere in this land, but this one was especially creepy. After exiting the cat-containing edifice, we grabbed a cab to Hiroshima station, walked to the hostel, and finally jumped into our beds. That night the typhoon that was lingering off the coast of Japan made its way onto land. It boomed and rocked the building all night, while rain smashed on the sides loud enough to sound like a person knocking on the door.
The next day, Sunday, we met with the family of Pato's friend who used to live in Hiroshima. This is where deferential Japanese hospitality was most strong. We met in the expectations of a brief visit and maybe lunch, with some light conversation. Not the case. After another glance at the a-bomb dome, we rendezvoused in front of it and immediately went to their house, about three minutes from the dome. The family consisted of mother, father, eldest daughter (15), youngest daughter (8), and only son (14). The last time Pato had met them, the eldest child was only 2 years old, and Pato 11. For some reason he didn't remember the son at all. They lived in a very nice house positioned directly above a pachinko building, where we were served some snacks and a lot of conversation that I had no part in, as none spoke English. We were asked what our day plans were. We told of our plan to see the a-bomb museum and they offered to accompany us. We gladly agreed. The father, son, Pato, and myself walked to their minivan. We were confused, as driving there made no sense, since it was directly across the street. Not wishing to upset or offend our hosts, we entered the vehicle without pause. After about ten minutes in the car, it was obvious we were headed elsewhere. After a lengthy and confusing drive of roughly fifty minutes, we ended up at the Yamoto museum, one built for the large Japanese ship sunk during WWII, and a submarine now converted to a museum in Kure harbor. This was a bit unexpected, but much appreciated. During our visit, Pato and I were approached by one of the staff. He looked to be at least fifty or so years old, but spoke perfect English. This was very strange, since I've rarely seen an older Japanese person who spoke any English. English is a delicacy of youth in the modern world. We departed the museum and made a pit-stop along the route home. The Otto-san stopped at the local Lamborghini/Bentley dealership, to buy something. We thought he was getting a new ride, but as it turned out, he was purchasing insurance for his minivan. Our next stop was back where we began, their house above the pachinko.
This whole trip was a bit strange and very uneasy for us. Both Pato and I are severely uncomfortable with others catering to our existence. So, after a day of charity, Pato and I felt a bit uneasy leaving the family without some gift offering for their time; gifts are very important in Japanese culture. We agreed that we should quickly find gifts for the family but our options were limited. We commandeered the children, went into town, and asked which items would be wise to give as gifts. The son tried to call the mother for ideas, but that may have ruined the surprise. Pato needed first to find some lip balm. We were led to a local convenience store. The children immediately led us to the lip balm…then the razors. Hint taken! Afterwards we looked for gifts, and, based upon the recommendations of the two young children, settled upon two bagels and a bag of tea, equaling about ten dollars in all. Not exactly equal to the portions of charity we were given. We were next treated to a buffet dinner with the father, son, and eldest daughter, but they had to leave early due to a family emergency. We bid our farewells and departed. Of course we paid for nothing on this daytrip, which was unexpected and uncomfortable, and for the duration of the day the family was quite stoic and nonchalant. It was difficult to determine whether we were guests or burdens. We all only spoke during our initial meeting at their house. Both the son and father said nothing to us during our museum trek aside from the few intermittent lines, but they also said nothing to each other. Even during our Viking (buffet) dinner no words were exchanged, except for when the daughter asked if I like a certain item, and when I asked the son what he was drinking. Pato and I, relinquished from the grip of the family's hospitality, and exhausted from a day of unexpected encounters, stammered to the peace park and allowed ourselves to drift into placidity in front of a dancing water fountain as night progressively advanced. It was a nice mesmerizing cap for the day. We then set for the hostel, but not before encountering an elderly man who followed us across the bridge, saluting me while he displayed his golden-toothed grin the whole time. Again, the haircut built for me an undesired reputation. The next day we set out for Miyajima: another day of unexpected trials.
Miyajima was the most beautiful of Hiroshima's offerings. We took the railcar to the ferry and landed on the island with the assumption of a light, touristy day. We grabbed some maps and proceeded to walk to the main attractions, but a deer approached Pato, nibbled his shirt and the map. So we began walking, map-less, to the Miyajima gate during low tide, taking many pictures along the way and stopping at some shops to examine the wares. Progressing through the temple, we made our way through all the stops and soon moved on to the most difficult part of the trip. Ascending the trail to the beginning of Mt. Misen, we debated whether the cable-car was worth the cost, as it was high. We chose to walk the mountain. I promise, it didn't seem as long as we soon discovered it was. The actual term used for the trail was a 'climbing trail'. It was all that and more. Nearly 1.5 hours and 3 km later we reached the top of the mountain. Many pictures were snapped along the way. We desperately wanted water and got it at an overpriced shop at the top. Pato and I debated our next move. The most famous of the temples lies on the back side of the mountain, so we hiked down to it, only to find that the typhoon the day before had damaged the trail and access was denied. Because of that we had to walk around the mountain, consuming another 1.5 hours and almost all of our energy. We rushed down the mountain, rested a bit, and took the ferry back to the mainland to make the peace park museum in time. We rushed through the museum, returned to the hostel to shower and change, and returned for a brief night on the town. We went for another round of Okkonomiyaki and another play of Taiko Drum Master at the video game arcade. As we exited the arcade at closing-time, a strange Japanese youth followed us out. He made no attempt to be sly about it; he just followed directly behind us while leaning his face in towards us. We tried to shake him: we stopped repeatedly and changed directions a few times until he walked away from us, but he still stared in our direction and departed our company in increments. As soon as he was out of sight, we dashed off around the corner. Truly strange people. We returned, once again, to our hostel and gave up for the day.
The next day in Hiroshima was our last. We opted for the Shukkueien Garden as our last sight to see in Hiroshima. It was a large, calm, and enjoyable area. There were few visitors that day. One pretty young Japanese girl and I repeatedly ran into each other. Each time she would smile and blush, but she was with a man I assumed to be her spouse or father, and English is scarce in this country, so it's a bit cumbersome to balance a conversation. Such a problem was common throughout the duration of my visit. Leagues of beautiful women walking by, glancing in the direction of the Gaijin, but stopping a person in the street and struggling with language was just too much. It was truly torturous to endure eighteen days of it, especially in the big cities, which contain thousands of finely crafted women. Additionally, it was difficult to determine whether the looks we received were fueled by interest or contempt, as all carry approximately the same types of facial expression. We left the garden for the Hiroshima castle, which was nice, but nothing compared to the Himeji castle we saw next. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived, the Himeji castle was closed. This was truly an impressive structure and was actually the original castle, unlike so many others. And of course, there were endless waves of beautiful women wherever we went. Later that night we set for home on Awaji. On Wednesday we walked Sumoto and ran into two of Pato's friends on the island, Shizoku and Steve, and had lunch with them. Shizoku offered to buy my lunch if I drew the long straw; I did and lunch was free. We all left and Pato and I returned home for a bit of rest – we drained ourselves with five days of walking, climbing, and bars. On Thursday and Friday Pato had to work, so I set out in the town and explored. Of course, many locals were shocked to see another Gaijin present, so gawking was plentiful. I first got a bento, and then a few Chu-hi's from the Jusco, and relaxed some more. We went to the only two bars in town at nighttime and met some more locals. We chilled at Roots with only the JETs, myself, Pato's Japanese instructor, two locals who seemed disinterested in our presence, and Nobu the bartender. We drank, chilled, and discussed a future gathering on Awaji my last day in town. The second bar, Bar One, contained a few locals, Pato and I, and two of his friends, Megumi and Hitomi. We chatted; I tried my hand at some Nippongo but failed miserably, and discussed our plans later in the week. They were planning a surprise birthday visit for Will, whom I would later meet. But before we departed, one of the locals, who was a bit drunk and had been sleeping at the bar stool, fell over on the floor. He received many laughs. Drinking too much too early was a common sight in Japan. Many people would pass out in the streets while walking or riding bicycles and attract no attention at all. I was so perplexed by it each time I forgot to take a picture. Friday night we set out for Osaka.
We met with many other JET's at Triangle Park in America-Mura, for a planned night of fun. After introductions and some drinks from the Family Mart, we decided to try a bar just down the street. It turned out to be very lackluster when we arrived. Pato and I left to look for food. We rejoined the others afterwards and went to another bar called Rock Rock. Good music and interesting people. Our group dispersed amongst the crowd. Pato and I selected to stand near the center of the activity. People were shifting around the bar constantly, making it really hard to see anything. There were many Gaijin, some of which introduced themselves to Pato and me. After meeting a selection of various people and nationalities, I approached two Nipponjin girls and we got to know each other a bit. The ladies, Pato, and I, left for a café across the street and I made plans to meet them later in the week. After a long night, Pato and I retired to our capsules and awoke the next morning to more fun. We walked all over Shinsaibashi looking for food and jackets, since it was cold and rain had begun. Jackets were scarce, so we headed for the Uniqlo in Umeda, unaware that there was one right in Shinsaibashi. We walked around Yodobashi Camera most of the day with our new undersized Japanese jackets, until it was time for the bars. A friend of Pato's, Mina, who used to live in America and went to our same community college worked at a bar not too far from Shinsaibashi. She told us of a special event at the bar that night. There was pole dancer scheduled for one of her co-workers, since it was his last day. It was very entertaining. I got to meet and hang out with two pretty young bartenders, Mina and Tomy. Mina invited me to a club after she got off work. I agreed to go, but first went to another bar. Pato had a meeting with someone else that night, so I went with two other Awaji JETs to Cinquecento, where Will, a former Awaji JET I had met the night before, now works. On the way there, there was a guy walking my opposite direction. I noticed him in my peripheral vision just as he was next to me. When I looked, he had his hand out to shake mine and wore a strange grin. I shook his hand as he walked by, but he didn't let go. I then looked back at him and he still had the same grin, but then I noticed the two girls walking with him. Or at least I think they were with him. I didn't know what to make of this event, so I kept my momentum with the JETs. Indeed a strange city. We chilled in the bar until one of my comrades began falling asleep in his chair. We all left; the JETs, Roy and Kane, for their hotels, me for the bar to meet up with the girls from before. Too bad that Tomy was passed out in the back and Mina was just passing out as I arrived. I stayed for about thirty minutes and called it a night and went back to the capsule hotel. This would prove to be only the beginning of my Osaka adventure. Sleep was something unattainable during the entire stay. Sunday was a lighter day.
Pato and I met and wandered the town again. We ran into Will at his other job. Will isn't the kind of person who sleeps, he runs on…something. After a day of wandering, Pato had to return to Awaji for work, but I stayed in Osaka. That afternoon I checked into my hostel before wandering the town. That night I met my only roommate. He was a twenty-two year old Korean from Seoul, named Shin Sun Woo, visiting Japan before his two-years of forced service in the Korean Army. After the introductions I went back upstairs for a bit. When I returned, there was a very attractive twenty-one year old Korean girl, Chu Ki Pum, in our room. I introduced myself. We three had a nice English conversation late into the night. I was told by Chu Ki that she found me very attractive, and that I resemble Brad Pitt. I am told this a lot, and it wasn't the last time on my trip I had heard it. Both were deeply interested in America and its culture. However, most of it regarded lowly American pop-culture; the kind of globally exported American images of which I have very little knowledge or interest, and try as much as possible to ignore. But the two Koreans were amiable and interesting anyway. On Monday morning, my roommates and I wished to explore more of Osaka. We wandered and tried the Osaka version of Okkonomiyaki – but it couldn't compare to the Hiroshima original. We were all a little tired, so we returned to the hostel. I slept too long. My roommates had planned to go to Umeda that afternoon and spend the day there. They invited me to accompany them on their visit, but I had a date later that night in Umeda. After sleep, I met with my date and returned to the hostel later that night. The Koreans were still out, but soon returned. We viewed pictures among our three cameras and chatted some more in English. Chu Ki, again, heavily complimented my aesthetic appeal and quickly became obsessed with taking my picture…many times. I went to sleep late again and was awaken early by Chu Ki to bid her goodbye, as she was returning to Korea. The next day I traveled to Umeda and wandered the town alone. I ascended the renowned Umeda Sky Building during heavy rain. I was heavily soaked the rest of the day. Afterwards, I wandered the areas I knew and some others I didn't. Japan is easy to get lost in; there are no street signs, maps are unreliable, and everything looks the same, but I managed to keep my bearings. I stopped at Mr. Donut. I made my selections and the cashier, a very cute girl, greeted me with an inquiry of "heeerrrrre?" The tone was shrill and elongated. I at first didn't understand; she repeated, and I realized that she was asking if I was to eat on location. I laughed and assented. I relaxed, then returned to Shinsaibashi. Upon arrival I grabbed a bento from the Family Mart, and later wandered some more.
Tuesday night was Will's birthday. Pato returned to Osaka with Hitomi, Megumi, and her sister Chiaki, prepared to surprise Will. After a quick nap at the hostel, I gathered myself, bid farewell to my final remaining Korean roommate who was leaving that night, and departed for a night of lengthy fun. We all met at the OPA building, a popular meeting place for locals and Gaijin alike. We soon after arrived at Cinquecento. Will was surprised and greeted us all with that infectious British charm he carries at all times. Pato and I chilled the night away with Will and the girls. I engaged in a poorly understood conversation with Chiaki while at the bar. Pato helped translate. Chiaki and I agreed to meet the next night at the Glico-man bridge. Pato, Hitomi, and Megumi had to return to Awaji that night, but Chiaki lives in Osaka, so she remained. After they had all left, I was on my own again, but Will and his co-workers wished to continue the party. I waited around town for a bit until the bar closed. We all then walked to the nearest Sam and Dave bar, which was no longer serving alcohol. We left for another place that did still serve it. On the way we encountered a man who had been riding his bicycle while drunk and passed out in the street, still clenching his bike and umbrella as if he thought he was still riding it. Again, so stunned I forgot to take a picture. Later along our path a woman approached our convoy offering massages. She offered her services to a few of us before closely approaching Will, whispering, "no, no, sex" to him. He wisely declined and we continued en route. We settled for Heaven, a shady amalgamation of cultures and dangers. The theme was Brazilian. Nearly barren as we entered, there was a man sitting with four very ostentatious women. Clearly hookers with their pimp, a scary looking pimp at that. We chatted and drank for a while, when one of the girls began taking her shirt off, but didn't want us looking, and began yelling at us to stop. We did, but she wasn't satisfied, ran over to us, elbowed me in the ribs, tried to smack Renato (Will's co-worker) and knocked over his drink. Soon afterwards, her pimp apologized. But a splash of serendipity occurred when I discovered this bar carried Guarana, a soda from Brazil made from the Guarana seed. I've been trying to find it for years, and of all places, this bar had it. When Heaven closed, we left for Zinc, another bar/restaurant, but that was it for me. I called it a night and departed the company of the envoy. It was about 11am or so. I walked back to my hostel, which happened to be across the street, crashed, and slept the entire day. The others kept up the party at Renato's house after Zinc.
Late Wednesday afternoon, I awoke and wandered the town some more. I went far out my normal, well-known area and saw very little, so I returned to the Shinsaibashi area and surprisingly ran into Portia, another Osaka JET that I had met on Friday. Both surprised, we joined and wandered together. I stopped for lunch and we conversed. She was supposed to meet Will to see Ironman that day, but he wasn't answering his phone. Too much fun the previous night, apparently. Portia and I explored and took in the sights of Osaka. Eventually we got a hold of Will, met him in town, got some snacks and chilled. He needed some time to recover. Portia decided to wait on the movie, so Will and I met with Chiaki at the bridge. We dashed off to Zinc, the same bar from the night before. We had some dinner and drinks, and I suggested trying a bar I had visited on Saturday night. We set out for it only to discover that it was closed that day. We then opted for booze and a night in the park nearby. There's no open container law in Japan, so we were able to drink in a kid's park at night, without fearing any pigs snorting in our direction. We chilled in the park and got a little drunk, until we could no longer tolerate the mosquitoes feasting on us. We hailed a cab and dashed off to Chiaki's flat west of Shinsaibashi. We drank some more at her flat. Will passed out quickly. Chiaki and I went outside for a while and enjoyed ourselves. Unfortunately, there were many homeless in her area, so we had little privacy from their view. We returned to her flat later and went to sleep even later that night. In the morning there was more Japanese deferential catering. Chiaki made us pancakes and we chilled until Will took off for home and a change of clothes. He had been out for three days now without changing. Chiaki and I spent most of the day together in her place and I left later that evening for the hostel and more sleep. Friday morning I had planned to set out for Kyoto, but woke up late and got to Kyoto late. I only got to see two temples while there before I had to head back for Awaji. The JR rapid train was packed as tight as it possibly could have been. Crammed, face-to-face with others who smelled of a long day's work, the train ride was less than comfortable. I made it back to Awaji at about 10pm to meet Pato and Phil for some Awaji fun.
Phil drove Pato and me to northern Awaji so we could visit a popular izikaya, but it was closed. We searched for another with no results. We chose to return to the original izikaya, but it was still closed, so we opted for the snack bar next door. An abundance of beer, karaoke, and small snacks awaited us. We were charged very little, since Pato and Phil were well known in town, and the izikaya owner's wife ran the snack bar. We left the snack bar and the izikaya was open, so we ate and drank more there. This, too, was cheap, since Haiato, the owner, was there that night. He and some other locals ate and drank with us. It was truly a fun time. This is easily one of my favorite activities. When done, we crashed at Phil's place and woke up early and a little hungover – perfect for hiking. We went back to Sumoto, to pick up Wendy (another English teacher) and get some new clothes. To catch the ferry to Nushima in time, we made a wickedly mad dash along small, curvy mountain roads in Phil's tin-can of a car to the port. Along the way Wendy and I talked a bit as we clenched the sides of the car, hoping not to flip. Nushima is a small island off the coast of Awaji where the JETs gather for an annual hike. It was fun, with many spiders, snakes, and various other potentially deadly bugs to avoid. We made it to the halfway point of the hike and ate a light lunch at the point overlooking the famous heart-shaped rock. We then descended the trail and ate at a local restaurant renowned for good food. We returned to Sumoto, rested, and set off for Osaka again. We arrived in Osaka and went straight for food. I then picked up my date for the night, and we three went back to Will's bar. Pato left to meet someone, so my date and I remained. After the date I headed back towards the capsule. Near the entrance I found yet another drunk guy passed out on the sidewalk, but this guy had face-planted in the concrete. Ass in the air and cheek to ground, his friend was trying to revive him. He failed, I laughed, and again forgot to record an image of such a comical event. I awoke early the next morning after little sleep and met Pato at Yodobashi Camera, to set off for Kyoto. This time I was determined to see more temples than the previous two I had seen on Friday. We spent the whole day in Kyoto, visiting three temples. A group of nice young girls approached us at Kyomizu Temple. They were students of English at the local prefectural University, and asked if we spoke English. They were on a class project, in which they were to meet English-speaking tourists at the temple and show them around. And they did. They proved to be nice and informative. It was much better than what Pato and I had planned to do on our own. We then yearned for falafel and satisfied our desire. In Japan portions are small and prices are high. We were still hungry and got corn dogs from the family mart. We set off for our final temple. It was very dark and visibility on the bamboo-lined walkway was quite low. After we were through with temples for the day, we left for Awaji.
Pato had work on Monday. I slept most of the day and retuned to Jusco to buy obscure gifts for people back home. That night was my last in Japan, but luckily there was a Nabe party at one of the local houses in Sumoto. For three thousand Yen we had unlimited food and drink, a benefit I exercised well. I met some new girls and slightly angered the locals, for I was stealing their women. One local girl approached me to say that she liked my look, and that I was her type. I beckoned her to sit down. She became a little jittery at this request and said she'd be right back. She soon returned, shuffled in place and left again. She returned a final time, sat, took a picture and ran away again. It was at this time that Pato informed me that she was not exactly all-together in the head. Additionally, she had a thing for Nobu, the bartender of Roots, which confused me even more, and I gave up on that one. The company the Awaji inhabitants keep is tight and familial-like, and they became slightly defensive of the intruding Gaijin messing around with their women. The next morning, I awoke, hungover, and not ready to leave. Pato left for work, we said our farewells, and I tried to wake up. I recovered from my ills and ate breakfast, then left for the bus. I spent a few hours in Sannomiya wandering around the city, ate, rested, and boarded the bus to the airport to fly back home.
