Mount Fuji and Back

Good Evening All

Last September over one hundred jet lagged exchanged students gathered in one of Ritsumeikan’s brand new lecture halls for our first orientation meeting. At that time we had yet to cover any sort of logistics, so what we were presented with was a introduction to life in Kyoto and Japan in general. The leader of the session was Jason, the international student advisor who would later become a very beneficial source of guidance and friendship. Jason showcased his own photography, experiences and words of wisdom. The one thing I remember him saying was to take advantage of your time in Japan. With respect to this comment Jason mentioned one thing in particular: every year a group of exchange students has the chance to climb Mount Fuji. From that day in September I knew that Fuji-san would be one of my destinations prior to my return home. Finally, last week, with the help and organization of the Study in Kyoto Program Buddies (Japanese students who volunteer to help out exchange students), I was able to reach the summit of Fuji-san and more importantly come back to tell the story.

After waking very early on the 5th of July, shouldering my bursting backpack and riding the city bus to Kyoto station I was well on my way to Mount Fuji. However, once I boarded the tour bus that would take us to Yamanashi-ken (Yamanashi Prefecture) I realized that I had to endure a long uncomfortable bus ride before starting my climb. In other words, Japanese buses still do not accommodate for anyone taller that 175cm. I came to out of my sleepless daze as our bus arrived at base camp number 5 of 10 at roughly 17:00 (that’s five in the early evening, army time guys, get used to it). At approximately 18:15, after eating surprisingly nice meal of udon, fish, pickles and veggies, the yellow group (my climbing group) started up the mountain, that’s right, we were in for a night hike.

In order to avoid getting altitude sickness, which is caused by a mixture of the body/brain not receiving enough oxygen and not properly adjusting to the different pressure as altitude increases, the yellow group kept a slow pace until we reached base camp number 8. We had been hiking for four hours in winter conditions, but the fleece vest that I was wearing, which I stole from my father and the trail mix that I had made in Kyoto, kept me right on track. From 23:30 to 1:20 I slept in the closest quarters of my entire life. At least two hundred people were sleeping shoulder-to-shoulder in this amazingly small cabin on the side of Fuji-san only a few kilometers away from the summit. Sleeping above the clouds is something that I will never forget. I will also not forget waking up centimeters from my friend’s drooling face.



From 1:30 until 4:30, my good friend from Bulgaria Lilia and I made a mad dash for the summit and in the end it was worth it. In the last few hundred meters of the trail as we passed through a few Shinto gates, the sky behind us was glowing brighter and brighter as if it were pushing us the mountain. Lilia and I reached the summit of Fuji-san, just moments before the sun broke the cloud line horizon. It was surreal. When the sun had rose far past the horizon I had already taken the chance to take a tour of the summit, saw the crater of Mount Fuji, which is probably from its last eruption in the early 1700’s in the Edo Period. It was time to descend. I had been dreading the moment for the whole hike. That is, over 3000 meters of steep switchbacks and my Ramras Family knees. In the end though, we all made it back to Kyoto safe, sound and for me very satisfied.



The very next weekend was the SKP (Study in Kyoto Program) Farewell Party in the heart of downtown. These semi-formal events always turn into a fun time, whether fun means socializing with your friends over a couple of drinks and some nice food, or drinking your friends under the table that has some nice food on it…socially. After the party a mass of foreign and Japanese students dressed in suits and yukata arose from the roaring basement lounge and on the shores of the Kamogawa (the Kamo River) where the conversations and hilarity continued into the wee hours of the morning when the whole wide world of Kyoto was fast a sleep.

Farewell


This weekend marked the climax of the Kyoto’s famous Gion Matsuri (Gion Festival). In 869 during the Heian Era of Japan, the Gion Matsuri origin came from a decree by the Emperor Seiwa to pray at Kyoto’s Yasaka Jinja (Yasaka Shrine) in order to rid Kyoto of it’s current plague of disease. The current Yamaboko, halberds or floats that are still hand made only using rope to fasten their gigantic structure, represent the spears that were used in purification rituals during times of sickness.

YAMABOKO




Yukata at Yasaka Jinja


These things are as I have said, huge. When I took a trip downtown last night to check out the small street market I saw these huge yamaboko measuring up to the adjacent department stores of downtown Kyoto on my way to the original Yasaka Jinja in the heart of Gion (commonly known as the Geisha district). For having been built and erected by hand, they are truly amazing. Apart from seeing the packed markets in the small side streets of downtown Kyoto, I also got to see a very special parade in the middle of the night that started inside of Yasaka Jinja and continued through the small streets of Gion. The clang of the bells, the high shrill of the flutes and the Maiko and Geiko running in and out the sliding wooden doors of their teahouses made for a truly aesthetic and unforgettable experience.

Geiko at Yasaka Jinja


PARADE

With only three weeks left in Kyoto, Japan I am beginning to feel, how can I say this…uneasy. I will be going home, but on the other hand I will be leaving Kyoto behind. I will have to make the most of these last few weeks and I will not fail to keep you all posted.

A big shout out to my previous advisor Jason for giving me the advice that made this year practically worry free and filled only the best of experienced including reaching the summit of Fuji-san, the best to you.

Until Next Time.

SEMI-Cicada

What DID happen of July the 4th?

God Bless America!

I don’t like using exclamation points! Whenever I read a text that includes a lot of exclamation points, I feel like the person who is writing is trying too hard to convey to the reader that what they have to say is really important! Happy Fourth of July!!!

See, there is a funny joke that I learned in elementary school, I think in Geoff Ruskin’s class, that went a little something like this: Is there a fourth of July in Japan (I think the example country was Britain, but for my sake I’ll use my current country of residence)?
Well of course there is, there is all around the world…yeah, I guess you had to be there…and be twelve years old in order to understand the true hilarity in the joke simple meaning.

Today is the day that I looked forward to as a child. The day where family and friends come together, eat drink and spend time together. A time to blow shit up in honour of our still young nation’s founding. As the day progressed I began to think about why it took me almost half of the day to remember that today, a day that holds so many wonderful memories, was my country’s independence day. First of all, I am thousands of miles from any true American media, besides that music that I have on my computer and the Americans that I live and go to school with. Second, since I always celebrate the Fourth during my summer break, it was hard to make a connection to the day of remembrance while in the middle of a regular academic term.

On the other side of my complete oblivious united state of mind, there are so many other important things that happened on this day aside from the 1776 Declaration of Independence and John Hancock’s famous signature. Let us reflect on a couple of monumental historic moments that also fall on this Fourth. In 1903 Theodore Roosevelt opened the first Pacific cable from Manila to San Francisco. More ironically, though, is the fact that today in 1946 the Philippines ceased to be a United States colony. Talk about a day to remember independence! Oops.

At the beginning of this week I had the pleasure of meeting my high school Japanese teacher, Tashibu Sensei, in Kyoto during here annual summer/spring trip to Japan. Accompanied with two handfuls of recently graduated Roosevelt High School students, I immediately sensed the presence of exhaustion in Sensei’s voice when I made my first call to her last weekend. “Would you please take the kids out for a night on the town Asher?”, Sensei kindly asked. Aside from my genuine interest in showing visitors around Kyoto, I could not pass up an opportunity to provide Sensei with a small slot of time for some rest and relaxation.

I planned to take the children out to dinner at a well-known eatery in the Ritsumeikan neighbourhood, followed by a healthy session of karaoke. However, I started to doubt my plans when the first group of kids met me with their hands full of MacDonald’s. Also, I told that one of the students had “disappeared” and whose whereabouts were still unknown. What else is one to expect from high school students? So as I rode the city bus from the middle of Kyoto to the university neighbourhood, with a group of half satiated high school students, missing one friend, I decided go with the flow and not change my plans. After a nice meal we took a nice stroll in terribly humid weather and proceeded to a nearby karaoke box. Two hours later I had a group of karaoke-hungry children planning their next outing that I assume will include more screaming and middle school nostalgia. The lost child was found and experiences varied.



I am climbing a mountain tomorrow. Kanagawa marks the most western part of the Kanto region of Japan, which includes the national capital of Tokyo. Lying between the border of Shizuoka and Yamanashi prefectures stands a majestic dormant volcano. My destination, along with 79 other exchanged students and Japanese students, is Fuji-san (Mount Fuji), towering 3,776 m (12,388 ft) above sea level. I have only reached the summit of two legit mountains in my life: Metzada, in Israel and Squaw Peak, in Phoenix, Arizona. Fuji-san will definitely be the tallest summit I will have reached in my life-that is if I can step up to the challenge. The challenge being 14 hours of climbing with 1 cup of rice, some trail mix, 2 liters of water, winter conditions and 2 hours of sleep. I have checked my list twice and am super pumped to climb. With my Mom, Pops, Grama and Chloe on my shoulders, I should be back at base camp soaking in an onsen (public bath) in no time. For now though, I have to finish making some onigiri (hand held rice balls) for tomorrow’s trek.

Shout out to John Hancock, beer, hotdogs and ketchup; dirty white t-shirts, spilled drinks, explosions and 332 years of freedom.

Until Next Time

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.