Goodbye, dear Tokyo. I will return.

So I’m in China now to start the real reason I’m over here – work. This will be the final post in this blog, as I’m certain none of you have any interest in my next eight days of administrivia. Tokyo and Hakone have set the bar for a well-run environment – safe, immaculately clean, orderly and organized, with friendly and helpful people at every corner. Not to be grandiose – but from a tourist-only view, it’s an ideal society.

I never did find Godzilla – despite asking at every souvenir shop across the city. The response was always: “Godzirra? Hmmmmn… Goddddzirrrrra??” I tried “lizard”… I tried “dragon”… A few times I was offered a fighting dragon reminiscent of the old Asian legends – but never a Godzilla. Near as I can figure, ‘Hello Kitty’ ran him out of town.

So – off to work. Thanks for joining me on this journey. The emails and blog comments certainly bolster the weary traveler. I hope you’ve enjoyed the story. Until next time… ciao!

Mountains, Lakes, and Bullets

It was a long trek to Hakone and Mt. Fuji on Saturday - but after being on my feet about 16 hrs the previous day, I was ready for a more restful tour. Mt. Fuji is considered by the Japanese people to be a sacred mountain. It is Japan’s tallest – and is a dormant volcano that is constantly monitored by scientists for seismic activity. It’s summer, so most of the snow that comes to mind when you think of Mt. Fuji is melted by now… and we were there for a very very cloudy day. Our motorcoach snaked up the side of the 12,000+ foot tall mountain to “Station 5” – halfway up the mountain and the last point accessible by motor vehicle. Station 5 itself was interesting – our tour bus disembarked passengers into what was clearly a tourist trap of souvenir shops and ice cream stands… but the independent streak in me surfaced when I noticed “other” busses letting out more people on the other side of the station. I had to find out what the difference was – and it was clear immediately: these were the serious visitors – those here to climb to the top! Beards and hiking sticks were standard. The shops on the other side of the station carried protein packs and bear repellent. What a beautiful separation of church and state… my group of softies with our postcards and shot glasses vs the hard core folks who wanted to get down to the business of climbing that mountain.

From Station 5 it’s about a twelve-hour climb to the top. Most start out mid-day, climb to Station 8 to rest (about 8 hrs in), then start back out at midnight. The goal is to reach the top before sunrise – where those successful at scaling the mountain greet the new morning with cries of “BONZAI !”

I’m not scaling anything. Give me my postcards and shot glasses, let the clouds clear for at least a couple of decent shots, and I’m back in my comfy-shmumfy motorcoach seat awaiting our next stop.

Our next stop was a cruise along Lake Ashi in Hakone (pronounced ha-coney). Hakone is a resort area famous for its healing hot springs. According to our tour guide, most people in Tokyo try to take holiday in Hakone at least once a year. After a cruise across the lake, we traveled via the Hakone Tazon Cable Car to a perch 600ft above the lake to view the valley below which was a crater developed during various volcanic blasts millenniums before.

Since Fuji was so clouded, our last activity of the day turned out to be my very favorite thing of today’s tour: Shinkansen - the Bullet Train from Odawasa into Tokyo. These trains have been around a few years now – topping speeds of 200 kilometers per hour across the countryside. Standing on the station platform watching them pass through our station was like being a kid on the back of a four-wheeler for the first time. They whistled through – silent on the rails. Our tour guide knew how to interpret the light signals and would queue us up for snaps when one was coming through – then we’d all rush together to compare the pictures we were able to capture.

Riding the train was very impressive. Like all other forms of mass transit I’ve taken in Tokyo this weekend, it was immaculately clean and looked almost new. The acceleration and deceleration processes were unbelievably smooth. I didn’t know what to expect – and was anticipating the effect of throttling up on a plane that presses you to the back of your seat as the plane leaves the ground. Not so with the bullet train – very very smooth. I’m a fan. Even better – it took us the better part of three hours to reach Hakone by bus – and only 46 minutes to get back into the middle of the city (even with two stops in between).

I had mentioned earlier how I’m not a fan of group tours. I missed out on the insights of a private guide (like Rina, from my visit to Beijing) and her take on the city and “living” in that world. But what I gained was individual little “families” on each of my tours. Travelers come in mixed varieties, of course, but those like-minded (I should say ‘open-minded’) of us find each other and share stories and experiences so that by the end of the day – like I mentioned earlier – we’re sharing our snaps and being all giddy together about a 100mph train blowing by in front of us.

I wound up “adopting” a lady from Milburn (that’s Austalian-speak for “Melbourne”, for those of you like me who didn’t register it). Didn’t want to – she was eager for conversation, and I’m not a talker. I’m on a mission after all – I hadn’t found Godzilla yet and she’d be in my way. She stayed at my hotel and was in the lobby both mornings waiting for the tour shuttle to arrive. Over the course of a couple of days, the proud 72 year old widow with a limp grew on all of us. We found ourselves all taking the lift rather than the stairs, and holding the door until she could get there. When we finished the bullet train ride, the group all parted ways amidst hugs and swapped business cards. She and I headed off in the same direction for our hotel. I had wanted to stay at that train station and explore a few streets, do some last-minute shopping, and grab an interesting dinner. But I was worried about Beatrice and decided to make my way back to the hotel with her so that she’d get there safely. We wound up having a lovely dinner of fried noodles and steamed dumplings and met the nicest man – a pilot – who helped us translate the dinner menu. If she hadn’t been there, I might have ordered the frog – but decided to pass. Anyway – the story is, she’s widowed, she’s 72, and she had a leg amputated as a small child to combat a rare cancer that she found out as an adult was a false diagnosis. She never gave up, worked her way through the steel business, and is in Tokyo on a four-day stopover from Australia on her way to tour North America. She’ll land in San Francisco, visit Los Angeles and then drive to Las Vegas… from there she’ll fly to New York and then drive over into Canada where she’ll visit her sisters before flying home to Melbourne.

There was Vandana in Bangalore who made such a success of herself despite tragic circumstances in losing her husband when she and her children were very young. And now there’s Beatrice – 72, on a prosthesis, and keeping up with every single one of us on the tour. I have nothing to complain about. That reminder alone was worth the trip.

Travel gives you opportunities – that’s why I love it so. My “family network” at home of family, friends, and close work friends would be all that I’d ever need. But getting out – alone – puts you in contact with the stories of others that you’d never be in a position to interact with. And along the way, you pick up some inspiration to keep moving, to give it just one better try, and to find ways to be the strong role model those people have been without even realizing it.

It's all downhill after seeing a 400 lb. tuna

Just kidding. The rest of the day was fantastic. (But you gotta admit – that’s one attention-grabbing opener.)

I’ve never been a fan of “group tours.” If you haven’t noticed, I have a bit of an independent streak. But today was actually good. It moved fast – they were trying to pack in as many stops as possible. And then – because the tour I originally tried to reserve was fully-booked and I had to split it into two half-day tours… I had enough confidence to skip the last half of the afternoon tour and strike out on my own. (And don’t fret – I skipped redundant stops I had already hit this morning AND I discussed it with the tour guide first. Didn’t want the poor guy to put out an Amber alert.)

Our first stop was the observation deck of Tokyo Tower. It’s a 450’ tall Japanese version of the Eiffel Tower (and the guide fully admits they were copying the original). The structure’s day job is to manage and deliver television signal transmissions, but it makes a healthy living off group tours via the observation deck. From these pictures, it was clear to me why I was “intimidated” by Tokyo – it’s GI-NORMOUS! Truth be told, after a day touring… the city is manageable. Too bad I only have two days to burn.

We also visited the gates of the Imperial Garden. The Emperor only allows public visitors twice each year – the Japanese New Year’s Day and his birthday. We had to be content watching from the gates. It was getting to be a really muggy day by then – so I think most of us were THANKFUL we didn’t have to trek further and stay longer. This huge statue was on the grounds leading to the Imperial Gate – reminding us of the times when Samurais controlled the land and the people.

After driving through Ginza (the Rodeo Drive of Japan – thankfully we didn’t stop) and Akihabara (the “electronic city” of Tokyo), we landed at the Asakusa Kannon Temple. This temple is Tokyo’s largest – even better, it’s surrounded by 100+ shops featuring souvenirs and local handicrafts in the Nakamise Shopping Arcade.

The afternoon tour started with another birdseye view of the city – this time atop the observation deck of the World Trade Center. After completing our rounds of the observation deck we took a ferry boat cruise through the Sumida River – departing from Tokyo Harbor and charting our way to Asakusa again (back to Kannon Temple and an afternoon of shopping). The river was a key waterway that led to Tokyo’s development and we passed under nearly a dozen very unique bridges on the way back to the Kannon temple. Each of the bridges was a bold color or a unique design. All of the bridges shared motor vehicles, bicyclers, and walkers -- Tokyo really is a pretty “green” city and it shows by the lifestyle and choices made by its residents.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon shopping for things to take back home. One of the interesting things I found was a little spice shop that hand-makes (via a nine-century old recipe and tradition) a very famous version of seven-flavored spice. They hand grind the seven different spices with a mortar and pestle and package it up to send home with you – I can’t wait to cook with it. And you guys know how I love “consumable goods” – so I also found a few tea shoppes for some nice souvenirs to take back home. The shopping excursion led to exploring a few subway routes (oh my gracious – they put ART in their subways!) and taking the above-ground monorail home during rush hour. Again, I’m so very impressed by the organized transportation in this city. It’s so orderly – with the exception of how to order tickets with signage entirely in Japanese. It cost me about $1.50 USD to get across the city – and still took less than half an hour in the middle of Friday night rush-hour. There’s no reason to own a car here.

So – what was for dinner? Well, I was getting a little homesick so I had to cook. Remember the “hot pot” lunch from Beijing? Well, the Japanese equivalent is Sukiyaki -- consisting of meat (usually thinly sliced beef), or a vegetarian version made only with firm tofu, slowly cooked or simmered at the table, alongside vegetables and other ingredients, in a shallow iron pot in a mixture of soy sauce, sugar, and mirin. Before being eaten, the ingredients are usually dipped in a small bowl of raw, beaten eggs. They brought a single burner to my table, threw in heapings of fatty beef, tofu, sprouts, cabbage and various other veggies. Me and my chopsticks were perfectly delighted to stir away at dinner. And the results – um-um-goooooood! [I know you guys are absolutely cringing about dipping the stuff in raw eggs. I did it. And it was really good. Not that I’ll ever try it at home…]

I can barely walk – but it has been worth it… I have covered significant ground in a short period. Enjoy the snaps on the Picasa link on the right banner of the page… Tomorrow will be completely different – a look at smaller-town life and a lot more scenic views with Mt. Fuji. Can’t wait!

Go Fissssssssssssh!

Warning: This post is not for the faint of heart or those easy-to-be-queasy. It is, in fact, a posting about a bunch of dead fish. Millions of pounds… of dead fish. Read on at your own risk.

So when I first began researching Tokyo, the Tsukiji Fish Market was the place I most looked forward to seeing, even if it did mean getting up at 4 a.m. I thought to myself “I grew up around farms where they had tobacco “markets” like this one and even slaughterhouses (more delicately known as ‘processing plants’) – this will be just like that.” Just how many ways could I have been wrong on that?! ;-)

I awoke at 3am – see previous post – and by the time I opened the curtains at four o’clock I saw that it was absolutely POURING rain outside. Lovely. A quick (efficient, again) cab ride to the market and I was on the prowl by 5:15 a.m. I expected this to be a highly AROMATIC experience – not so. Must be the difference between just a few hours out of the water and what we receive in my beloved landlocked state. This huge wholesale fish market is the largest in Japan and one of the largest in the world. The action here starts early: At about 3am, boats begin arriving from the seas around Japan, from Africa, and even from the States, with enough fish to satisfy the demands of a nation whose culinary priority is seafood. To give you some idea of its enormity (remember: “gi-normous”), this market handles almost all the seafood -- about 450 kinds of seafood -- consumed in Tokyo. The king is tuna, huge and frozen, unloaded from the docks, laid out on the ground, and numbered. Wholesalers walk up and down the rows, cigarettes hanging from their mouths, jotting down the numbers of the best-looking tuna, and by 5:30am, the tuna auctions are well underway. And the auction activity itself is like a cadence -- a kind of song-like (almost chanting) exchange between the auctioneer and the bidders. It reminded me of (forever ago) fraternity days when the leader would call out and the rest of the group would respond in kind... It would be a stretch (or the effects of jet-lag) to say it was mesmerizing -- but it was...





The market is held in a cavernous, hangarlike building - perfect for a rainy morning. Men in black rubber boots rush wheelbarrows and carts through the aisles, hawkers shout - knives chopping and slicing... this is in stark contrast to the sea of black pants and white shirts I would see commuting to the offices later this morning as men made their way to work near my hotel in the financial district. The mixture of old and new is fascinating – about half motored around on a stand-up two-stroke engine platform that looked like a barrel on the front hold the engine. It was almost like a zero-turn radius lawnmower with a platform on the back – except I think these things run faster. I ran into a group of schoolgirls and their teacher from Seattle and they marveled at how the workers manage around us tourists. Agreed – it’s like we’re not even there, snapping away with our digital cameras and cell phones.

I bought my first souvenir here… a lovely (pricey) kitchen knife. Had to have something culinary from here, and I just didn’t think the fish would transport well. Then I had breakfast – oh, yummm. Yeah – after all that pre-shashimi viewing, I just couldn’t do sushi for breakfast… So I had tofu. This was no ordinary tofu. I ate in this little hole-in-the-wall where the grandma behind the counter shouted (not intentionally) in Japanese and crossed her arms over her chest like an “X”… I kept asking “Me, no sit?”… She kept repeating whatever she was saying. I finally pointed to a picture of a tofu dish on the wall and she broke into a big smile and pointed at a stool and said – “Sit”… I didn’t ask any more questions after that. She served up the most delicious tofu with thinly sliced beef I have ever ever had. And there I was – in the equivalent of a flea market stall with a patio sliding glass door for an eatery that held no more than six patrons. I love it here already.

July 7th is "Make a Wish" Day

I'm up here at 3am... oh, the joys of pre-jetlag. Up early and ready to roll -- I'll be dragging tail by this afternoon. I had a couple of hours before I leave for the famed fish market and thought I'd write about "being a local" last night. Outside one of the temples there were all these colorful ribbons attached to trees (as interpreted by a non-local). As I got closer, I realized these were part of a celebration - the Star Festival.
So I had to put my name on the tree. I didn't make a wish -- thought that would be kind of unfair to tap the Japanese Wish Bank. But it was fun, nonetheless to put my name (+ United States + Tennessee) on a ribbon. The local ladies manning the "wish booth" laughed and pointed. I'm glad they had a good time - I certainly did.