Atago Part 2

Just some more photos from my second climb up Mt. Atago.  For the record, the 500m marker only made things worse this time around, because I knew exactly how exhausted I was going to be.

Below is proof the stone steps were made for smaller feet than mine.

A really cool (and rather large) twisted vine creating a critter bridge above/across the trail steps.

Sweaty and gross, but feeling pretty good about myself and the world and life, just the same.

AAAAAND bamboo for extra mystical Asian forest effect!

Morning dewdrops on the grass as I walked home.

Sakura Yakiniku

We had hear rumors that a Yakiniku place within walking distance of our house was actually the best in the whole of Sasebo.  Every time we pass it, either Hubby or I will say aloud "we need to go there one day."

Well "one day" finally came, and we went there for dinner.

All I can say is: "Oh... my... God."  

I say this not in any blasphemous way, for I truly am singing the Lord's praises when I use this phrase to refer to this meal.  This meal, makes me believe in the divine.  The delight I felt in my heart eating the succulent cuts of beef the Japanese refer to as "karubi"  (a reference to Korean kalbi I believe) was nothing short of heavenly.  The deep red meat, with so much delicate white marbling it looked like it had been draped in fine French lace, literally melted away in my mouth when it came off the flame.     

Both hubby and I agreed we were sad nearly to the point of tears when the meal ended and the meat was all gone.  The beautiful, beefy, buttery flavor and overwhelmingly gratifying sensation of the karubi dissolving across my tongue haunted my mouth for no less than 15 minutes after we left the restaurant.

So, if you're ever in Sasebo.  Go to Sakura.  Or any of the other karubi/yakiniku places around here.  But really, you should go to Sakura.  And call us, so we can join you there for dinner.

Nagasaki Peace Park

This weekend we decided to venture out of our darling Sasebo (with which we are quickly falling in love) and try going to Nagasaki.  An inside scoop from a friend told us there is a way to get there that costs far less in toll money, with only about 30 extra minutes tacked on to the driving time.  Since everyone here pretty much drives and gives directions via landmark, we went "toward Hario, turning right at the Family Mart, then left at the tunnel, through the tunnel, through the toll gate, across the bridge, and then follow the signs."  Or something like that, anyway.  Point is, we found our way just fine.

The drive up the coastline was absolutely spectacular.  We could not have asked for a more beautiful sunny day, and the sparkling water filled us with that happy sensation you get when you're exactly where you're meant to be.  

That feeling was shortly thereafter, replaced by hunger.

The now typical scramble for me to read signs as we passed them went as poorly as it always does; which a whole lot of me saying: "That was an udon shop back there.  Wait I think this is a... no that's a flower shop... wait... slow down I think... do you want ramen?  No?  Okay never mind then." 

Finally we pulled into a parking lot of what we hoped was a restaurant, and sure enough, there was a sample menu with photos outside the door.  Great success, thanks to Hubby!  I couldn't tell you the name of the restaurant, and I'm not even sure I could find it again if I needed to, but it's somewhere on "that coastal road heading toward Nagasaki" and the food was delicious.  Hubby tried O-den for the first time, and enjoyed it, almost more in concept than in flavor.  

With food in our bellies we made our way to Nagasaki, and about 45 minutes later were downtown.  The signs to the Peace Park and Atomic Bomb Museum were easy enough to follow, and once we found parking it was smooth sailing.

As we walked along the outside of the museum looking for an entrance, we were able to see down through the glass window walls, into the main lobby.  Countless strands of origami cranes, bound together to equal 1,000 cranes per set, were hanging there.  These cranes were a tribute to the Japanese legend that if a person folds 1,000 paper cranes, they will be granted a wish.  This was made famous worldwide in light of the atomic bombings, when the story of Sadako Sasaki was made public (and turned into a book, which I highly recommend reading if you haven't). Feel free to read this Wikipedia article for more quick information (say what you want about Wikipedia, it's a good source for quick tidbits and general concepts):

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thousand_origami_cranes 

Anyway, I paused in my tracks when I saw the cranes.  I stared at them.  Hubby and Aria had already run ahead to look at something else (more Aria's doing than anything).  But I couldn't move.  Out of nowhere I started bawling and I couldn't stop in spite of all the stares I was getting.  I was struck by the tragedy, the loss of SO MANY innocent lives.  I thought of my daughter, and the idea of her in the place of kids like Sadako.  I was beyond devastated.  Because we are still doing these ugly things to each other.  Allowing innocent children to be caught in the disgusting crossfire of conflicts they are too young to even understand.  It broke my heart so suddenly, I was just overtaken with emotion.

After a 5 minute sob, I was finally able to collect myself and rejoin my family.  I wanted to scoop Aria up and hold her in my arms, but she was preoccupied with some flower or bird or the fact she knows how to jump now.  And in a way, I guess my tears of grief were just as much tears of gratitude for every day my daughter could do exactly what she was doing right then.  So I let her be.

Visiting the museum, I learned so much.  About the devastation.  About the cataclysmic effects of nuclear warfare.  Of the remarkable rebuilding of the city.  Even about the Korean victims of the blast, and how their bodies were often ignored.  Truly fascinating, and absolutely worth doing.  

Here are some photos we took while at the Peace Park and epicenter of the bomb blast:

Once we were finished at the Peace Park we went to a giant mall closeby, where we had some food court dinner.  And Hubby got a sizzling steak skillet thing that was absolutely incredible.  The beef hits the hot skillet raw, with a giant dollop of garlic butter on top, and then you just take it on a tray to your table and enjoy.  Hubby was nice enough to share with me, and this steak beats a good number of the steaks I have had in America.  And in general, just on concept alone, this totally trumps American food court food.  While this photo doesn't exactly keep with the semi-somber or meaningful nature of the earlier 3/4 of our day, I couldn't omit it.  I mean it's prime STEAK on a SKILLET!  In a FOOD COURT!  

Climbing Atago-san

Feeling randomly inspired and energetic, I woke up Sunday morning at 5:30 AM to take a walk/jog around my new neighborhood.  As I set out around 5:45, I was struck by how dark it still was.  Autumn hasn't made its presence so pronouncedly known through the weather yet, so I had almost forgotten it is the middle of October.  The silent pre-dawn indigo shroud was my reminder.  Given it was Sunday, the silence was even more pronounced, because there were so few people up and next to no cars on the roads.  It bordered on spooky, as I kept an inner monologue of: "this is one of the safest places you've ever lived," on repeat in my head.

As the darkness started to dissipate, I headed toward Atago-san (Mt. Atago) to see if there was any way up its slope.  First, I came across a large stream, with quaint stepping stones leading across it.  After accidentally scaring away two feral cats in my approach to the stream, I carefully walked across the rocks to the other side.  Then off I traipsed toward the base of the mountain, at which point a found a roadway, and headed... east(ish)?

After passing several semi-derelict homes, and realizing I was almost to the freeway without having found a staircase or path of any sort, I turned around and went back to my starting point.  Then I went the other direction for a spell, found a road with a 30-degree incline, and walked up it for a spell.  It took no time for me to start gasping for air... that hill was no joke.  But I hit a dead end, and having made it only a third of the way up the mountain, I had to turn back.  

Shortly after, I found a staircase nearby and ascended it... only to find myself (quite accidentally) at a private burial site for a private residence perhaps 30 feet from the dead end I was at 5 minutes earlier.  As you can imagine, I quickly made tracks back down the hillside in a truly bunny-like fashion, praying silently no one had seen me.     

I was a bit frustrated, and tired from having gone 1/3 of the way up a mountain twice in a row to no avail.  But I tried another side street, and took a lovely break at a tiny shrine.  The view of our valley was still very pretty, and I felt as though my morning trip had not been in vain.  I walked further up the street, muttering, "Oh well, I guess I will try again another day," when... there they were.  Two etched stone pillars, marking the entrance to the staircase leading up Atago-san.  It was unmistakable.

At this point I faced a dilemma.  I had already been gone an hour or more, and I knew given how high this mountain was, it would be a long climb.  But I couldn't shake the feeling of divine intervention hanging over my head.  What are the odds that at the exact moment I was about to give up my search, I found what I was looking for?  How does one turn away from that?  It was as if something was saying: "There it is.  You going to quit now?"

So, I took a deep breath and headed up the stone steps.  The beautiful family burial plots scattered on either side of the staircase had me bowing respectfully and trying to stifle my increasingly heavy breathing.  Polished marble headstones scattered with flowers and kept impeccably clean kept me from uttering the curse words which would normally have exited my mouth given how tired I was and how steep the slope was.  I also kept in mind, that a priest silently climbs up the mountain every year to place a stone statue of Buddha at mountaintop shrine.  So I felt a need to observe slightly more reverence than I would have had on a normal hike.

At least for a while...

As I went higher, the stairs got trickier.  And bigger.  And earthier.  I went from granite, to dirt enforced by wooden stakes and beams.  Each step was a challenge, and I was sucking wind with every breath I took.  Silence was no longer an option.  I still tried to keep the swearing to a minimum (honestly much of this part of the climb was a painful blur so I can't recall how much profanity exited my mouth).  Then I came to another pair of pillars.  This time marking the entrance to the shrine area. 

Shortly thereafter I saw a sign saying "500m," with an arrow.  That's nothing, right?

Wrong.

I climbed and climbed at a snail's pace, gasping for air, wanting so very much for it to just be OVER.  I was pulling myself up by the handrails because my legs were trying so hard to quit on me.  And just when I thought, "I have to be super close, now," I saw another sign that said "155m."  I stopped and scowled at that sign for a while, switching rapidly between thoughts of, "SERIOUSLY?!" and "I hate you I hate you I hate you" and "this was the worst idea ever."

But you can't turn back at that point.  No way.  Not when you've gone that bloody far.  So I kept going, giving myself pep talks the whole way: 

"Don't you dare let ANYONE tell you that you can't do this.  Least of all, YOU."

"You do this like you do anything else, Michiko.  One step at time."

"This mountain is a metaphor, so prove to yourself you can finish what you start."

"Just keep going."

"Just keep going."

"Just KEEP GOING."

   

 I was helped along by the view through small breaks in the foliage.  To call it beautiful would be an egregious understatement.  And I wanted to see more.

Then, the steps changed again.  From wood, to random rocks, arranged in a fashion which could be sort of mistaken for stairs if you squinted.  For the first time on the climb, I was actually a bit scared of falling.  I maneuvered carefully on tiptoe up these stepping stones which were quite obviously meant for much smaller feet (Japan's size bias strikes again!).

But after a few more minutes of rock climbing... there it was.  I was at the summit.  Just like that.

I immediately burst into awestruck, exhausted tears.  Tears which fell plentifully, freely, and unstoppably as I took in one of the most astounding things I had ever seen.

I took it all in as slowly my breath returned, my tears dried, and my heart calmed.  I headed up to see the Buddha, and thanked him for guiding me to his home. I promised to bring alms next time, with a promise I would return. 

There was a mosquito that kept buzzing about me, no doubt drawn in by my sweat-soaked clothing, and I was prepared to kill it before it bit me.  But for some reason, being in that sacred place, I couldn't do it.  How do you kill a creature right in front of a statue of Buddha?

Needless to say, I have a few new bug bites. :-/

I settled on the steps leading to the NHK broadcast tower (also at the pinnacle of Atago-san), and looked down.  I thanked God (as I see him), for the strength, the lesson, and the view.  I thanked my Obaachan and Grandpa for watching over me as I climbed.  Religious or not, I defy anyone to have that experience, and NOT be moved spiritually by it.  When you climb a mountain after thinking you couldn't... when you see the sun shining its first bright beams onto misty mountains, a sparkling ocean, and a lush, still valley... when you hear nothing but birds and cicadas even as you see tiny cars moving far below you... when you see streams of radiance breaking through purple clouds in a seemingly endless sky... you know something greater than yourself has graced you.  Call it God, call it Mother Nature, call it Love... call it whatever you wish.  But your heart and your spirit can't deny the overwhelming sense that you've been blessed.

Alright, off my soapbox I step...

After some careful surveying, I could see my house, in which slumbered my daughter and husband.  It was so miniscule against the expansively mountainous backdrop.  And suddenly home had never seemed so far away.  I had reached my goal, and now I wanted more than anything to share my triumphant joy with my beloved family.

So I stood, and headed back toward the staircase.  

Right before I left, a single ebony butterfly fluttered right over my head.  And for some reason, I felt like it was my Grandpa, or my Obaachan, or even both, stopping by to say "good job, Michan."  I smiled wide, sharing a moment of silent togetherness with the butterfly, and then was on my way.

Heading down the mountain I listened to "Freedom Song" by Jason Mraz on my iPhone, and felt great the whole way home.  I walked down a street I hadn't yet seen in my Cho, lined with tiny shops and restaurants and homes just beginning to open their doors to the fresh morning air.  My life was a movie scene with a wonderful soundtrack.

As I approached the footbridge to my house, I looked back at Atago-san one more time, and nodded respectfully.

I walked into a dark, quiet home, that was just as I had left it.  I went upstairs to find Hubby still asleep.  So I went into Aria's room, and up popped her tiny smiling face, with her bright blue sparkling eyes, as she said, "Mommy! I'm awake!"  

That sound was enough to wake up Hubby, and within 30 seconds we were all snuggled in our big queen bed together.  I must have had a particularly dazed look upon my face, because Hubby asked me "are you okay?"

I looked at him, and Aria, and said: "I'm great. Life is just sort of perfect right now, that's all." 

The Food Chubbies

As embarrassing as it is to admit, I have been putting on some weight since we moved here.  Though, I have been putting it on much slower than I thought, which is a testament to losing weight the natural way.  When I was dropping the lbs. through diet pills, the second I got lazy, the weight packed on at double the speed I was losing it.  But having lost 25 lbs. this year the healthy, slow way, I have had better luck with keeping most of it still off in spite of the unhealthy and indulgent eating habits I have had lately.

The issue I have discovered is that "my Japan," culinarily defined, is an endless assortment of delicious chocolates, cakes, ice cream, tempura, rice and noodles.  In other words, pretty much ALL carbs.  And with no set workout schedule in place for myself, and very little rhythm to my days since I got here, my streak of healthy activities has suffered.  And feeling out of sorts trying to adjust, I have noticed stronger cravings for all the delicious foods available to me.

For anyone who wants to chastise me, I just feel like saying, "but have you TASTED the sweets here?!"  This is a sweet tooth's most delicious dream or worst nightmare.

Thus one of my goals is to establish a set workout schedule, to make sure I can combat what I eat.  Because frankly, giving up the deliciousness isn't really in the cards yet.  Maybe in another month the shine will wear off I will more easily resist temptation.  But I am currently still very much entrenched in the world of "OH MY GOSH I FORGOT HOW YUMMY THIS AND THIS (and this and this and this) WERE!!!"

Moving In

I won't bore people with all the details of moving day, but I wanted to take a moment to give props to the Japanese moving companies.  You... are... awesome.  Japanese moving companies are so careful and accommodating.  They are so thorough, and courteous. I was just so pleased with the service we got.  They were the first to notice damage and allow us the time to document it for claims purposes.  They were the first to unpack boxes and carefully put things where they needed to go.  They reassembled furniture, they were patient and playful with Aria.  There was no sense they were in a rush to get out of the door.  

I must admit, seeing our empty home and dreaming of all the ways I could furnish and decorate it was a lot of fun for me.  Then our stuff showed up.  And I remembered I had to work around the things we already have.  It popped my balloon a little, but I am still glad to have our stuff back.  Now the tedium of organizing and finding the "right place" for everything begins.  Since our dresser is badly damaged and no longer functional, Hubby's and my clothing will probably still remain in suitcases for a little while longer. 

To quote my father (and Ren & Stimpy):

"Happy happy.  Joy joy."  :-/ 

Pearl Sea, Pottery, and Parks

This weekend we managed to do a little more sightseeing around Sasebo.  Having chosen our house, we started doing some shopping around for a dining room set, and decorative accents.  Nothing's been bought yet, but we are starting to get some ideas and prices on things.  After all this, we hit up the kaiten-zushi place for some more all-you-can-eat sushi.  Then we were off on another adventure.  Our adventures consist of driving until we feel lost, and then driving some more until we know where we are again.  Thank goodness Hubby is doing the driving right now, or our adventures would be much shorter and more stressful.  Anyhow, after a lot of going to and fro, we ended up at the Pearl Sea Resort with the hopes of catching one of the boats to take a tour of the 99 Islands.  However, Aria was firmly set against this whim of ours.  She couldn't tell us WHY she didn't want to ride the boat, but she kept crying "noooo! I don't want to ride on the boat. We are not going to ride on the boat."  So we scrapped the idea until we could do more planning and prepping with her.  Still determined to make the most of being there, we walked around a nature trail near the water.  Suddenly, we heard the sounds of a crowd and exuberant announcer nearby.  The Pearl Sea Resort includes and aquarium, at which there are live dolphin shows every day.  And we were at the top of the ridge closest to the dolphin pool.  Taking our cue from a couple other hikers, we stood atop a fence and looked down at the leaping sea mammals below.  Hubby, aiming for the title of "super dad," balanced on the fence while holding Aria.  I was only moderately terrified.

After we spent some time watching the lovely show, we continued our hike up the trail until we came across this sign, which was relatively easy to comprehend in spite of the kanji.  That is, except for the picture second from the bottom left, which we could only interpret as "do not karate chop the trees."  

Aria's life was made much better when we got back down toward the main resort and encountered a particularly patient, kind, and friendly kitty cat.  She spent a solid 2 minutes "gentle-ing" (her term for gently petting or gently touching) the cat, and it did not budge an inch.  She also was able to pet a very chubby corgi named Sandy.  Not a bad day, animal-wise.

Saturday night we went to bed with the plan to visit Fukuoka by "blue bus" (the Navy's Sasebo-Fukuoka shuttle) and see a SoftBank Hawks baseball game on Sunday. All we had to do was catch the bus by 8.

Sunday morning we woke up at 6. And 6:15. And 6:30. And 6:45... at which point we decided the blue bus wasn't happening for us. So around 7:30 we began researching other means of getting to Fukuoka over a cinnamon roll the size of my face.

After the pricing and scheming and thinking it over was done, we realized going to Fukuoka wasn't really in the cards.  So we hit the highway and decided instead to get off the next exit up from our usual (Daito), and explore the Mikawachi area of Sasebo.  This area is particularly famous for its pottery and porcelain.  We didn't know where the factories were.  We didn't know where anything was.  But as is our way, we just drove until we saw something.  And sure enough, after 20 minutes of driving, we saw a sign that read "China on the Park."  So there we went.  We parked, and walked up a staircase to what we thought would be an exhibition area.  Or a factory.  Or a festival.  Or literally anything other than an office building... which is what it was. Despondent and confused, we wandered around... until we discovered this "outlet" at the back.  Small as it was, it looked, as Hubby said,  "Like Pottery Barn on steroids."  This place was roughly 1,000 square feet of beautiful, stunning porcelain pieces.  Dishes, tea cups, vases, all beautifully painted and glazed and immaculately crafted.  I only got a couple pics before I was asked not to take any pictures, but if you do a web-based image search for "Fukagawa China" you will see much of what we saw, since this particular outlet and gallery (oh yes, there was a breathtaking gallery of insanely valuable original pieces) specialized in pieces by the Fukagawa design house.  Just so you know, at the current exchange rate, this tea cup and saucer below costs about $193.  The pieces in the show gallery were upwards of $10, 000 at least.  

Having coveted the various pieces of fine china for a decent length of time, we decided to go find a place at which we might dine.  After a rousing game of "wait-slow-down-I-can't-read-the-signs-fast-enough-what-did-that-say?-it-said-'udon'-well-it's-too-late-now-wait-that-looks-like-a-restaurant-no-it's-a-hair-salon-keep-going-wait-what-did-that-one-say?" we ended up at a tiny ramen shop next to a train track.  And this, was the view from the parking lot:

  

There was also a beautiful pair of elegant herons, strikingly white against the deep jade backdrop of the tree-covered mountain.  This is how we learned it's hard to properly slurp your ramen when your breath is being taken away.  Certainly a wonderful view to dine by.

And the food was pretty tasty. :)

Tummies full, we drove up to a beautiful building up on a hill about 10 minutes away from the ramen shop.  As is the case with most of our adventures, we saw something, asked aloud "what's that?" and when neither of us had the answer, we drove toward it to find out. The building itself turned out to be an expo center/gallery of sorts.  But we didn't go in, because we spotted something much more up Aria's alley.  A playground.  Right there on a hill, nestled in a mountainous town, was an adorable playground.  

With this being the view below:

The best part, was that the park was actually much larger than we thought.  There were separate playgrounds scattered over maybe a square 1/2 mile.  Some plastic.  Some wooden.  All fun.  And all throughout the park, there was an incredible smell floating through the air.  Something that smelled like a cross between ripe, sweet tangerines and happy,  sunshine-kissed, rainbows.  It was, easily, one of the top 3 most wonderful floral scents I have ever experienced.  And below, is the plant responsible.  The fragrant orange tea olive:

Through my research, I believe the Japanese name for this plant is "kinmokusei," which puts me in the wonderful position of now being able to purchase a large number of them for my new house.  :-D

Also on the list of pretty plants were these wild... crocuses?  They look a bit like crocuses though I don't actually know what they are.  

After an hour or so of playing, we took a stroll around the rest of the park, and came across a semi-circle of stone statues.  I don't know whether or not they are supposed to be dieties, but Aria was a very big fan of them.  She decided to hug every single ones.  For a moment, I was concerned that we were doing something irreverent in allowing her to hug them, but she was SO happy.  And we concluded that if they WERE gods, they would probably be quite glad to receive hugs from a sincere and loving toddler.  So we let it happen, and got a couple adorable pictures out of it.

Finally, as we were heading toward the parking lot, we came across a grasshopper.  Aria was immediately enamored with this insect, who she called "my little green guy."  She spent the next 10 minutes "teaching it how to hop," gently petting it with one finger, and just delighting in watching it jump. She kept crouching over it, like she was creating a tent with her body.  And for all the skittishness I expected from the grasshopper, it seemed shockingly calm having Aria around.  She really does have a way with animals.  

It was a wonderful day, with no shortage of beautiful memories.  As we drove away from the park, we saw the fields of rice everywhere throughout the valley.  The emerald paddies are turning golden brown, with hundreds of tiny grains clinging to the waving tendrils of each plant.  I cannot wait to take advantage of the new harvest, because nothing tastes quite like "new crop" rice. :)