Biwa-ko and Back

Good Evening All

I am at a loss for words. I can barely move in Kyoto without sweating liters and having heat induced hallucinations. Before arriving in Japan, I was under the impression that Kyoto and Seattle lay on roughly the same longitude. After researching for a quick second I have found that I was correct. However, despite the fact that Kyoto and Seattle are separated by just ten longitudinal degrees-Seattle being further north-summer in Kyoto has proved drastically different.

One can only imagine how hot it can get in 31 degree centigrade weather with 80% humidity in school desks designed for my cute little cousins back home, but it is hard to fathom the heat endured by Kyoto’s famous Maiko and Geiko (more commonly known, but incorrectly referred to, as Geisha). One week ago, instead of my weekly Japanese research class, a guest Maiko-san so graciously came to Ritsumeikan University and shared a short demonstration as well as a question and answer period for the Study in Kyoto Program students.

The demonstration consisted of two short dances of the utmost elegance and simplicity. It was very interesting to witness such a formulated dance routine performed by such a young girl talented. Well aware of how precise and carefully Maiko-san are trained in all of the arts they practice, ranging from dance, shamisen, drums, calligraphy and song, I couldn’t help but noticed the individual influence this particular Miako-san had added to her seemingly flawless performance. For one, the songs were about love and the neighborhood of Gion (more commonly known, but incorrectly referred to, as the Geisha district of Kyoto) and, of course, Love. The most interesting dance, I thought, was a short anecdote about a butterfly, fluttering from flower to flower, undecided as to which one would be appropriate to settle upon; the song was about love. It was not until after the question and answer period that I realized why I had taken interest in this Maiko-san’s particular interpretation of the dance. The girl was fully and officially trained, white faced, restricted from getting married at the cost of losing her job and a mere 17 years old. Could there not be other reasons for young girl to so thoughtfully display wistfulness when expressing love through dance? And she was wearing many layers of thick Kimono; she must have been suffering the same kind of heat that I was at the time, of course.



In addition to practicing my regular school routine in this ridiculous heat and constantly rising humidity, I have also been attending my cycling circle without fail. This past weekend we took our biggest trip of the year so far. After heading east for 40 kilomteres, ten of which being steep, winding hills, fourteen members of the Ritsumeikan Cycling Club (RCC) reached the shores of Biwa-ko (Lake Biwa), the largest lake in Japan. Upon our arrival, we immediately stopped by a nearby onsen (public bath) to relieve our tense muscles and enjoy the company of gargling, naked, old Japanese men.

For dinner the RCC posted up on the beach of Biwa-ko and made huge batch of white curry rice with chicken potatoes and onion, a seemingly appropriate dish for fourteen hungry cyclists. With the sun well behind the horizon, we finally arrived at our humble youth hostel, just steps away from the lake’s shore. I was stunned when I walked in the entrance our room, to find all tatami mats, futon stacked in a smaller removed room and my favourite squatter toilet. There is nothing more comfortable than laying on tatami mats, drinking beer, playing cards and lighting fireworks on a shoreline.

Another 40 kilometers back home and I had successfully completed my longest round trip in Japan thus far. I were to share my favourite part of the trip, it would have to be my reunion with the utterly pacifying presence of water. As a resident of Seattle, I spend everyday surrounded by bodies of water and to be completely removed from such an easily forgotten joy of living in the northwest was much harder than I had thought. However, with the opportunity provided to me by the RCC and the endurance of my aching, sweaty self I was able to make contact with water and it was just as I remembered.

Shout out to Chloe, my sister, for she is departing to Israel tomorrow. Travel well Chloe, study hard and stay safe, for we will miss you and be thinking of you often.

Until Next Time.

Language: Barrier

Evening

3:40am. Sunday. June the 1st. What to do? I just vacated a prolonged session of karaoke. The room was to small. The room was too loud. I hate the smell of cigarettes. John Coltrane, Giant Steps-if you haven't listened yet, please do.

What I am trying to say is that language and the barriers it creates can get one into the most interesting situations. A prime example could certainly be my experience today during my field trip at a 200 year old residence in the city of Kyoto, capital of Japan from 794-1868.

When I arrived seven minutes early at the meeting point, I was met by a handful of my fellow classmates and a former Sensei of mine, Mitsui Sensei. As i waited outside the 200 year old house I began to converse with the only native English speaker present, a Canadian born male by the nickname of Spence. He and I exchanged remarks about what we did the night before. He went to a drag queen show downtown, I went to a hip-hop, reggae, rock, DJ show in the neighbourhood. Enthralled in the conversation that Spence and I held, we did not, for a few moments time, take notice of the blatant language barrier that had been unconsciously constructed among the eight students present. There were, in fact, two females conversing in French, two females speaking in Japanese-one of which was Korean-and a male and female speaking in Mandarin, respectively.

Instinct. Comfort. Exhaustion. Hangover. What was it that split our group of eight into four, multi-lingual pairs?

I thought about that multilingual encounter all throughout the hour-long explanation of the 200 year-old house that i quietly sat in, cross-legged, poised, knees hurting from sitting in seiza position (google it). Our lovely guide in a tasteful grey Kimono and orange Obi, shared with us the secrets and subtle nuances of the house that she had been born and raised in. From the iron cast iron doors to the early 19th century one-way security windows, our multi-lingual group sat silent, listening to our common language, Japanese.

Simple as it may seem, the encounter I had today has emerged numerous times since September of last year and has made a profound impact on my awareness of the concept of a common language and language barriers.

It had become light outside, 4:40am. I can hear the birds, but they sound the same, as if they were in my own backyard in Seattle.

Shout out to Danny Parker and my second family on the occasion of Danny's graduation. I wish I could be with you guys basking in the sun, praising achievements and riding scooters in Hawaii.

Until Next Time

When It Rains, it rains for months at a time . . .

Good Evening Everyone
I am in my room, trapped by the rain and looking at an extended forecast that reads 100% chance of precipitation for the next four days. It starts now. The raining season in Japan, 梅雨時 pronounced tsuyudoki, has begun. Don’t get me wrong, I love the rain and seeing as I am a Seattleite, I have my fair share of rainy day experiences. Yet, living in Japan does change the way one looks at the supposedly normal rainy day.

First of all, the smells…whoa. As a frequent traveler, for the sake of remembering my adventures, I try my best to take in as much as I can from any given place that I may visit, including the way it smells. It may sound strange, but smell and memory have a strong connection, in my opinion. With that said, Japan has a very unique smell when its dense foliage becomes saturated with rain originating mostly from continental Asia. The slight essence of bamboo and pine trees is something that I wish I could bottle up and sell to, well, those who are into smelling for the sake of memory.

To continue the trend of our senses, the sound of rain in Japan is quite different in both an audible and, strangely enough, linguistically. Appropriately, there much onomatopoeia to corresponds to the various types of rainfall. For instance, when the size of the raindrops is quite large one would say, ame ga (the rain is) しとしと（している）shitoshito (falling in such a way). At the first sign of a rain shower one would say, ぱらぱら（している）parapara (shiteiru). Additionally, when the rain is falling like cats and dogs, as we say in the West, one would describe such a shower as, ざあああzaaaa. I am experiencing and listening closely to a rainfall of the ZAaaaa variety.

Finally, Japan, the country of excessive accessories, seems to become enveloped in one continuous string of umbrellas. Men and women can be seen toting any colour, design and size of umbrella at the first sign of any parapara, if you will. Coincidentally, every single one of these umbrellas happen to be held at the same level as my eyes, which contributes to one of the only dangerous aspects about my living in Japan. Worry not, for I still see clearly with both my eyes, thanks to my cat like reflexes, speed and regular consumption of over-sized Japanese carrots.

Speaking of eyesight, I had the pleasure, last weekend, to gaze upon the numerous and various artifacts housed at the Kyoto National Museum. In weather far sunnier that today, the Ritsumeikan Cycling Club (RCC) and I took a nice forty-minute bike ride to the museum, parked and proceed to ogle at pottery from the Jomon Period (14000-400 BC) with its characteristic chorded pattern (the literal translation of the word jomon); bronze cast bells from the Yayoi Period (400 BC-AD 250) whose designs and craftsmanship were all heavily influenced by Korea; Buddhist art from various south east Asian nations all from the Yayoi Period; and bronze cast mirrors, lacquer ware, Kimono, emaki (scroll paintings) and poetry all from the Edo Period (AD 1603-1868). It was pleasure to see such a display of aesthetics and history with the company that I had. Japanese people. I have never been through a museum that fast in my life. When I was a child visits to museums always seemed long and now that I have grown up and found interest in the diverse histories of the world I actually do take time in museums. That being the case, I was quite surprised at the pace with which the RCC members unknowingly whisked past over 16000 years of their own people’s history.


At the Museum, pondering the Ponderer


Shout out to my Father. I wish you the safest recovery from your long awaited surgery. I can’t wait to see you stand tall. Mom, way to hang in there.

Until Next Time

Bikes, Animals and Music

Can you feel the heat?

The nice weather may have helped, but with the assistance of the Ritsumeikan Cycling Circle (RCC) I have seen more of the Kansai area in the past two weeks than ever before. Since joining three weeks ago I have put roughly 150km on my white and blue Bridgestone, Roadman road bike. Speaking of my slightly small, yet sleek road bike, it wasn’t until recently that I had found out that Bridgestone was a Japanese company. I found this out from one of my fellow RCC members as he explained the meanings of the two kanji (Chinese characters) that the English name originates from. Bridgestone, in its earliest days was known as 石橋 (ishihashi), literally meaning stone bridge. So, if we combine our brainpower we can obviously see how the new, more marketable name was developed. The Roadman is a fabulous bike, really.

This past few weeks the RCC went on one exciting trip after another, after another, which would make three trips, in total, all of which were exciting…and I will tell you about them, now. First, was the long haul out to Lake Biwa Campus (biwako kounai, BKC). From my previous experience, I have only heard of people riding trains to BKC, so when I was told we were to bike to Shiga-ken (Kyoto’s neighbouring prefecture) I was had no choice but to put my game face on-followed by my helmet and backpack. After two sets of small mountainous hills, some amazing scenery, countless invigorated taxi drivers and 2 hours of biking through amazing foliage we arrived at BKC for the First Years’ Festival.

BKC’s festival was no different from the one held at the Kinugasa Campus (in Kyoto) late last year, but the size of BKC, the number of freshman and the recruiting tenacity of all the clubs and student associations made it a much more hilarious experience. Upon entering the campus we were greeted by the Rits big band performing some great jazz standards. After that we follow the crowds through the maze of small food stands selling everything from fried ice cream (ageaisu), fried chicken, fried octopus, fried mochi and slim fast shakes, not. All the fried food made the 30km ride back to campus much more euphoric.

BKC and the RCC


Starting on Friday, Japan has been experiencing its ever-famous “Golden Week”. What is Golden Week? It is another name for the four-day weekend that salary men, school children and exchange students look forward too; the weekend that housewives dread; the weekend when I went to the Kyoto Municipal Prison, I mean Zoo, slightly different from the cozier and spacious prefectural penitentiary. What I am trying to say is that despite the extreme hospitality of the RCC’s senior members by taking us to the Zoo free of charge, it did not soften the blow of the shocking condition in which the animals were living. Yeah, I saw three Giraffes, Grizzly and Polar bears, a Baboon, Silverback Gorilla, Zebra, Ostrich, Sea Lion and a gang of feces flinging Akagezaru monkeys, but the fact of the matter is that they were all within a 150 meter radius. Polar bears look so bummed out when they can only see children and not eat them, right? I suppose a Zoo will always tend to have that sort of effect on me, but kids were sure happy.


The domestic Fence, closed in by Giraffe

Zoo


Sunday was, without question, the shining jewel in my Golden Week-that is if Golden Week were some metaphorical crown that Japan wears for 96 hours out of the year. Ah yes, Sunday. This past Sunday marked the 10th anniversary of Osaka’s Takatsuki Jazz Street Festival. Over 1,000 jazz musicians gathered this weekend to play their swinging hearts out to rhythm hungry citizens of Japan and of course the jet-lagged, map-flipping patrons of Western nations. I was looking for sustenance that evening and was amazed and the bounty of grooving, laid back and innovative jazz that Takatsuki had to offer. Out of the ten or so groups I was able to see, there are two that I distinctly remember. One whose name I can’t recall, but whose sound was incredible were these two musicians who played in a small conference hall. There was a Japanese man playing both tenor and soprano saxophones who was backed up by this stunning Japanese woman who was playing the Japanese Goto, a very long and broad string instrument that lays on the ground. The soothing sound of the sax harmonized beautifully with the full and penetrating sounds of the Goto. In fact the two innovative musicians communicated the connection of the their wildly different instruments so well that by the end of the set many audience members were brought to tears. I was indeed moved by the unique harmonies produced by the two instruments whose origins and sounds are of such different natures.

Latin Bit, playing at the RUSH Bar


Sax and Goto


As we, Bob (Pittsburgh), Vanessa (Miami), Harry (England), Erik (Kalamazoo) and SoSei (Chong Ching), were about to catch a train back to Kyoto, we decided to make one last stop at a small bar, the Allure, to see one last concert. Hyper Sonic, who has been playing Jazz Street since its first year and long before that, was so good. Improvisation, communication, balance of sounds and an all-together understanding between the pianist, bassist, guitarist and drummer created just the right atmosphere for a close-quarters jazz concert. It was a great was to end the day and only reassured me that I will have to seek out more jazz before I head back home…in three months…yikes.

Hyper Sonic


Shout out to Daniel Norton, whose bike I have ridden and will continue to ride in good health. Hope all is well in Canada Dan, I see you in the fall.

Listen to Jazz.

Until Next Time.

Back to the Grill

Greetings Friends, Family and Foreigners

First of all, a Hearty Chag Sameach to all family and friends across the world, for now is the time to remember yet another-quite important-Jewish holiday; they tried to kill us, we survived, so let’s reinterpret it, discuss, laugh, think and eat. It has been quite hard for me in this past week to get into the Passover state of mind, though. I am an ocean away from the smell of my Grandmother’s matzo ball soup. My local grocery stores do not have a kosher isle. I am the only practicing Jew in my programme and what’s more the nearest synagogue is in the next prefecture-the chabad in Kobe is the only one of its kind in Japan. With that said I have found other ways in which to honor the Exodus of the people of Israel. In the past few days I have been taking every opportunity to tell who ever I am with the story of Passover. Of course I sound like a bit of a Grandfather when I do so, but it does bring me joy to have expose my friends and fellow students to a significant era in my people’s history that they would have otherwise remained oblivious to.

In other news, the new semester is in full swing in many more ways than one. My new Japanese classes, to my delight, are very fitting for my skill level and I look forward to my progress in the next four months. However, my teachers, compared to last term, are sub-par. I do not doubt their ability to teach the material, but I have noticed, in a few, but all of my teachers, a lack of enthusiasm and interactive drive during class. I’m not saying that I am being taught by teaching certificate totting robots, but class could be a bit more exciting and the teachers could be a bit more approachable. On the other hand I have had wonderful encounters with my teachers from last term when I see them in the halls between classes.

Besides my academic endeavours, I have just recently joined the Ritsumeikan Cycling Circle (RCC). I heard word from my good Korean friend Segun that the RCC was where it is at in terms of extra curriculars at Rits. Taking the chance, I contacted the RCC via email and that same night I received a reply saying that they would like for me to join them for spring semesters first meeting. I showed up after class to the empty classroom, ate some chips, drank some pop, flipped through some cycling magazines and was profusely complimented on my Japanese skills, to which I replied, いいえ、いいえ、全然。(Oh no, not at all).

The RCC gathered on the following Saturday at the nearby Hidano Shrine and after a quick tutorial about useful hand signals for city riding, we were off, riding, in the city that is. After an hour plus of steady-paced city riding to the south of Kyoto we took to the hills-still paved. Our destination was Karazaka-ya Chouyu-en (Karazaka Bird Aviary). It was a pleasure to be able to see Kyoto from a different perspective. Not only was I in a not so crowded area of Kyoto I was in the south of the city, a place I rarely visit. The highlight of the visit to the aviary was, as expected, the bird watching. As I sat on the terribly small wooden benches huddles closely to the RCC crew we were able to a rare sight, the often-aloof Ooruri bird. Ruri is a rare shade of blue, so naturally the small birds main attraction is its strikingly exotic blue back. The real pleasure, however, was not just seeing the bird through binoculars, but it was hearing the elderly people rave about the Ooruri and that in the twenty years they had been coming to the aviary it was their first sighting. Exhilarating.





The next day the RCC met up again for a more relaxing day, that included a day-long barbeque by Matsuo-bashi (Matsuo bridge) on the west side of Kyoto. Similar to the outdoor American BBQ there are the three B’s: beef, blankets and beer. As one could guess though the feeling was a bit different. The beef wasn’t as thick, there were tons of vegetables, we were cooking yakisoba on the grill and there were hundreds of people crowded in one small area enjoying the succulent combination of hops and bovine. Aside from the strong wind the day was a success, especially because I was blessed with the opportunity to teach all of the circle members how to skip rocks (水切り-mizukiri, literally water cutting). Yeah my arm hurts, but as my fellow circle member said on that sunny Sunday in broken English and Japanese, “As children in Japan, if you are good at skipping rocks you will ascend in the hierarchy of the playground.” Seriously, think about, mizukiri playground diplomacy, the way of the future.

Before closing this entry I would also like to recall last Friday’s big karaoke bash. By big I mean 33 Study in Kyoto Programme (SKP) students saddling their bikes and taking the 3o minute ride downtown to the crowded intersection of Sanjo and Kawramachi-a hilarious sight, truly. After locating the karaoke establishment, our loud Italian friend’s lovely Japanese girl friend kindly collected our money and split up the fuming group of internationals into five separate rooms. One thing everyone should know about karaoke is that there is always the option to chose the all-you-can-sing (utaihodai) and all-you-can-drink (nomihodai) option for a much cheaper and hilarious time; Friday was another utaihodai/nomihodai night. Last Friday, how can I say this…someone discovered that whisky on the rocks was included in the drink menu and then there were none. After my routine Frank Sinatra, Fugees, Astrud Gilberto, and old-school Japanese songs I was holding foreheads in the bathroom and pouring waters for my lady friends. I thought high school was over. By 330am I had shoved a handful of friends into taxi cabs and was on my way home sober as a…I don't know someone who had been watching their friends lay down in the hallway of the karaoke establishment for hours because the lights were too bright in the booths. Mom, Dad, everything in moderation.

Shout Out to the close families this week and a special hug and kiss to Grama Selma who made it all the way up to Seattle for Pesach, what a trooper, love you Gram. Also, a big shout out to my boy Phil Casey who is on his way back home from 107 days on a big boat traveling around the world. Phil you’re my boy, thanks for stopping by Kyoto, it was a pleasure to show you around the spots and get lost in my own city with you. Big reunion in Vancouver when August rolls around, dig?

Until Next Time.

Guess Who's Back?

Hello Again All

It has been roughly two months since my departure from Japan back to America and I have finally returned to Kyoto. I have just had one of the best Spring Break ever and I am so glad that I got to spend it with the people I did and in the cities that I know and love. I don’t want to dwell to long in my time in America, but I would like to touch on how it was to readjust after flying from the East back into the Wild West.

When I arrived at the airport in San Francisco the first thing I noticed was the lack of emotion among airport employees, both at the terminal and at baggage claim. I had realized, then, that I was no longer in the land of unconditional hospitality. I also noticed that there were many more noticeably overweight people and most everything was, to put it simply, physically larger.

I was so glad to se my parents at the airport the evening of my arrival, but it wasn’t one or two nights after that I headed down to Eugene, Oregon to visit my beloved friend Ben David. I spent a wonderful Shabbat at the Chabad house at the University of Oregon, braided and baked Challah in Ben’s kitchen and enjoyed the nice drive from Seattle to Eugene and back-I had been riding on the left side of the road for the past five months.


Challah

My next stint in the Pacific Northwest brought me up to Vancouver to visit my beautiful campus and see some great friends, including Zach, who had come back China a few months prior. It was really great to talk to someone face-to-face about the diversity of opportunities that Asia can offer in terms f working, learning and just simply-or not so simply-living.

I have not taken a trip down to Phoenix, Arizona with my whole family in a while, so when I picked up Chloe from Sky Harbor airport in Phoenix I knew I was in for a great trip. The family and I covered more ground in AZ than we ever had before, together that is. We made a day trip up to Sedona to the beautiful red rock and Chloe and I took an amazing little drive to Tucson to see my dear friend Jess Antonio at the University of Arizona. When Jess told us that he was having a taping for the UA T.V. News show Chloe could not pass up the offer. We ended up sitting in the live studio during the taping, which was a thrill. One of the best parts of the trip, though, was reuniting with some of the extended Ramras family. In other words, I got to eat my Aunt amazing blintzes while hanging out with my cousins whom last time I saw them could barely walk.

In a last ditch effort to cover the whole west coast in the small window of time I had, I bought a ticket to Ontario, California to go see my brother Micah at Redlands University. My five days there were also jam-packed and I was lucky enough to come on St. Patty’s Day weekend. Between the beer-pong tournament, the local burger joint, swimming in the huge pool at Redlands and kicking back with my grade school friend, I couldn’t have asked for a better trip.


Me and Micah

My last few days in Seattle were bitter sweet. With so little time and so many people I wanted to see, I got my priorities straight and started to work down at the Pike Place Market again at Three Girls Bakery. Being back down there was great; the atmosphere of the market is one of a kind. Also, since I was in one place I had all of my friends come visit me at work . . . bonus. Chloe even came down to work for a day, that was a hoot. My last night in Seattle I spent with some great friends Peter C. and Marty, who was celebrating his twentieth birthday, partying and record playing ensued.


Me and Chloe at Three Girls Bakery, Ruben please!

I knew I needed to sleep on the plain on the way to Japan, but I am far too tall. However, the sleep I could have got on the plain could have never prepared me for the following sixteen days. Walking down the terminal in Tokyo’s Narita Airport is an experience in itself, but to look over your shoulder and see you family right on your heels is a feeling that I had been anticipating for along time.

Tokyo was absolutely amazing. The family and I hit every spot we possibly could within our four days in one of the busiest metropolises in the world. Traversing the train tracks to Akihabara (gadget city), Harajuku (modern fashion-ville), Shinjuku (the busiest train station in the world), Shibuya (the busiest pedestrian street crossing in the world) and Asakusa Shrine was a very draining, yet rewarding experience. Moreover, my mother’s current teacher’s assistant at Roosevelt High School gave us the contact of her home stay mother from ten years prior and one rainy day my family and I found ourselves running around a train station trying to meet with Kosuge Mariko. The confusion arose from my intermediate folly for reversing the Japanese words for below and behind. Either way, an hour later we being toured around a one hundred and thirty year old house in one of Tokyo’s neighbouring towns, Moriya. The house left me speechless. Also, since part of the house was converted into a restaurant we got to try some hand made soba noodles, which were, as could be expected, one of a kind.

However, my family, having no prior knowledge of the Japanese language or the lay of the land, really put me to the test. I was translating, ordering meals (and changing orders), making hotel and train reservations and navigating via my Japanese skills. I was more than relieved to hop on the Shinkansen (bullet train) headed for Kyoto knowing that familiar roads, restaurants and dialects awaited me.

From Kyoto my family and I hit Nara, the ancient capitol of Japan, to see the largest indoor Buddha in the world (Todai-ji), Himeji Castle, Kobe, Osaka, Miyajima, and Hiroshima in a little over a week. All the while I was getting readjusted into my dorm, registering for classes, taking a Japanese placement test and trying not to trip on the bags that were hanging from under my eyes.


The Family at the base of the main tower of Himeji Castel


Hanami at Himeji Castle

I unfortunately had to say goodbye to my family today and send them on their way, not to see them again until early August, but it was my extreme pleasure to have the privilege to show them around and reveal to them the unique environment that I have now made my own. With that said, it was very hard for me to come back to Kyoto knowing that I only have four more months until I have to head back home. On the other hand, my triumphant return has helped me realize that I must make the most of the upcoming summer in Japan, which should bring even more memorable experiences, invaluable knowledge of the Japanese, which I have come to respect so much and maybe, just maybe, to the top of Mount Fuji.

A major shout out to my parents for sticking it out there. Mom the train stations were scary, I know. Dad you can take my seat on the bus any day. And Chloe, karaoke was above and beyond what both you and I thought it was going to be.

Asher Ramras, back in Kyoto, OUT.

Until Next Time.

Coming from Kyushu and Going Straight Home . . .

Good Evening All,

It has been a few weeks since I have been on spring break and I still feel great, funny how that happens. I have spent my break time well, buying Japanese books for independent studying over the next two months, watching a lot of movies (if anyone hasn’t seen “I am Legend” with Will Smith, get on it), cooking three meals a day, and going out for yakiniku (Korean barbeque). The yakiniku is a religious experience in Japan, aside from ringing bells on New Years that is. I have been shown a secret yakiniku spot in Kyoto and have now been there four times.

It’s small, it’s hard to miss on the street, it’s far from my house, it’s has the best beef and beer in town (Yebisu Beer, check it out) and it is owned by a very kind ojisan (uncle). The man is a Zainichi Korean, which means that his grandparents were taken over from Korea to Japan as labourers before and during the Second World War by Japanese colonial forces. The following generations of Koreans living in Japan have and still do suffer from sever discrimination in the economic, political and social sectors of Japanese society. This past term I had the pleasure of hearing a lecture about this minority group from a true Zainichi Korean living in Japan. Kim sensei, remarked that one of the hardships of a Zainichi Korean’s life is the struggling with one’s owns identity. The Zainichi minority does not have either Korean or Japanese citizenship and most of the time, do not even speak a word of Korean, which often translates into most Zainichi Koreans living in Japan to adopt what is known as a stateless identity. After the lecture I thought about the idea of statelessness for a while and was very unsettled by the ambiguities of the concept. It is very real, still present in Japan and something that the yakiniku ojisan has lived with his whole life. However, being a Zainichi doesn't prevent this ojisan from pumping out the best two hours of my month with the best beef, beer, kimchi (spicy, fermented cabbage) and ice cream in all of Kyoto.


Yakiniku at its best

Before going back to Seattle I thought it would be nice to do a little bit of traveling in Japan, so last weekend I hoped on a bus with my good friend Dan from Toronto, CAN and rode out to Kyushu. For the past two years Dan had been living in Yatsushiro, a small suburb of the Kumamoto prefecture in Kyushu, as an English teacher on the JET programme. So, before heading out to Kumamoto, Dan made a few calls and hooked us up with a place to crash and tour guide for a day in Fukuoka. The way by which Dan and I traveled to Kyushu is a common mode of travel among mostly younger generations. It’s called the yako-basu (literally, night bus). It is the cheapest mode of transportation for any inter-prefectural travel in Japan. However, it is cheap for a reason. Having ridden nine and a half hours to Fukuoka and thirteen hours back from Kumamoto city you can take my word for it. I know I am a fairly tall man in the states, but in Japan I am a really big dude and it was obvious when I took my seat on that yako-basu. At times the bus ride seemed like an absolute nightmare. As the heat from the engine blasted my already sweaty feet, the 100 plus kilometer speeds rattled the frame of the rusty bus creating a sound that echoed in my head for some time after arriving at Fukuoka’s Tenjin Station. Dan’s old hockey teammate Ryosuke met us in the early morning at the bus station and took us to the closest onsen (public bath) to wash off the previous nights ride; that bath in Fukuoka was one of the most refreshing I have ever had.

Touring Fukuoka with a native was great; especially cause that native had a car at his disposal. First, Ryosuke whipped up out to Dazaifu Temple in the morning to pay respects and pray for traffic safety and good grades. The temples’ grounds were truly amazing. The way in which the huge trees hung over the main bridges looks physically impossible. The most fascinating part about Dazaifu, though, was its small display of genuine Bonsai trees. When discussing their appearance with Dan and Ryosuke, I said in simple Japanese, “Even though they look huge, they’re actually very small.” Upon which Ryosuke nodded his head slowly and gave me a big smile-I think I hit the Bonsai nail right on the head if I do say so myself. After Dazaifu, our crew of three stumbled across a small market in the city. Packed with huge bins of tea, still living seafood and huge colourful displays of fish guts, I couldn’t help to feel a bit nostalgic for my good old Pike Place Market in Seattle. Despite the lack of handsome fish throwing brutes, the market had a lot of memorable charm.


Tasty in soups


Looks huge, but not huge

After winding up our tour of Fukuoka Dan and I took another, yet shorter, bus in Kumamoto city where we stayed with his good friend for the following three nights. Over the next two days Dan and I made two important stops, the first being Kumamoto-jo (castle). Kumamoto castle was originally completed in 1588, twelve years before the battle of Sekigahara, which ushered in the Tokugawa shogunate otherwise known as the Edo period. After being destroyed in a fire during the Seinan Civil War of 1877, shortly after the Meiji Restoration in 1868, the castle’s restoration did not begin until 1998. Unfortunately, this same renovation had blocked the top level of the main tower of the on the day Dan and I went to visit the castle. However, we were certainly able to enjoy the Uto turret, the lovely grounds and the early white and pink plum blossoms.


Dan in front of the Uto Turret

Our second stop in Kumamoto was Mount Aso, more respectfully, Aso-san. Aso-san is the giver and breather of Kyushu, providing excellent sightseeing, natural habitats, lots and lots of steam and liters upon liters of mineral rich water. After we picked up our pocket size rental car in the early morning Dan I headed out to Aso-san and when we arrived the sun was shining and wind was biting at our uncovered fingertips. The mouth of Aso-san’s crater didn’t provide much visibility at first, but after a short while we could see the steam heaping out of the open crater. Dan was telling me that in the summer it’s possible to see the water in the mouth of Aso-san boiling at more than 2100 degrees centigrade. On the day that Dan and I visited, though, the snow was piled high and the boiling water out of sight. Either way, it was a great trip out to the longest standing monument of Kyushu.


The old and wise Aso-san


The rental toycar

After heading back to home base in Kumamoto-shi (city) Dan bought some of Kumamoto’s specialty at the grocery store. Basashi, raw horsemeat, wasn’t the most delicious snack I have ever had, but it certainly was an experience eating it. Served with only shoyu (soy sauce) and ginger, I couldn’t help but thinking about the beauty and grace of the horse that I was eating. In the end my basashi tasting session was tragic and mournful.


The Horse is the most muscular animal pound-for-pound on the face of the Earth

Rolling back into Kyoto after my thirteen-hour bus ride was very refreshing and for the past few days I have just been tying up a few loose ends, packing, and trying to wrap this katana (samurai sword) for my buddy in Vancouver. I have been saying goodbye to more and more friends this week and it is pretty sad to see them go. This weeks shout out goes to Bjorn and Natalia from Sweden and to Chacha and Hyo from Korea for I will miss there company, conversations and comfort in this coming term.

I’ll be back in Seattle in less than 48 hours. Hold on Mom and Dad, here I come.

Until Next Time.

Right near da beach, boiiiiii