Last Tsushima Autumn

This back-blog will focus on my last Tsushima autumn (October-November 2011).

As the date of submitting my recontracting form approaches, with its boxes of "Yup, sign me up for another year!" and "Nope, I'm soooooooo done!" I'm starting to think of the end as coming soon, even though there's technically 6 months left before I have to leave. It doesn't help that my two favorite schools, Nanyo JHS and Toyo JHS, will close this April. I walked into work the other day at Nanyo JHS, and there were big stickers on just about everything-- the photocopier, printers, all the chairs and desks in the teacher's room-- which had kanji on them that translated to "things to prepare [for removal elsewhere]." It's easy to see, now, how the pieces of that school community will be scattered. Farewell to desks, farewell to bookcases and umbrella stands and the big red welcome rug.

The stickers are just a visual reminder of the end of the school and my time here; I've been thinking of "my last--" and "my last--" for awhile now, and it's a rather mixed bag. ("My Last Halloween Party at Nishi Elementary" was rather sad, while "My Last Christmas Lesson With ADHD Kids" and "My Last 14-Hour Chicago to Tokyo Flight" had more of an upbeat note). With that mindset--

It was a good last autumn in Tsushima. My hiking group, which since last June has taken me to such far-flung island places as Waniura and the Jo-yama fortress ruins in Kechi, assembled in November to make a tour around Shushi. I thought we were just walking the normal Shushi Maple Leaf Road, but nope, it was a pit-stop at an old man-aquaintence's house for freshly-harvested sweet potatoes and then off to the wilds of Shushi in search of the perfect sweet potato roasting spot (preferrably off the beaten track, by a river overshadowed by trees in full fall glory). We drove most of the way in on a dirt road, found a spot, gathered dry wood, and roasted our taters.

My first authentic yaki-imo!!

They were quite delicious and my first authentically roasted-in-an-open-fire Japanese sweet potatoes. Hard and charred on the outside, buttery-yellowy orange on the inside and melt-in-your-mouth amazing. Of course, afterwards we had to work off all the yummy sweet potato goodness by hiking back out to the main road. As with our other trips, the vans had a tendency to drop us off in the middle of nowhere and then just leave.

When we found the vans again, surprise surprise, we headed to the normal Shushi Maple Leaf Road and walked that, too, for good measure. It never ceased to amaze me how the hiking group leader could overestimate how much ground we could cover in one day and, on the other hand, how much we actually managed, considering the average mean age of the group members was about 55, with a median closer to 65. (My presence seriously skews the stats).

Here are some of the more choice foliage shots-- gotta love Japanese maple trees for their beauty, even if they fail at producing the tiniest morsel of sap for maple syrup :)

The following weekend, I made a pilgrimage to Tokyo to meet up with friends made at the PSG/PA Conference in October-- which was amazing, by the way, mostly for a rather wild evening spent on the shore of Odaiba, an island just off central Tokyo and easy to get to via underwater train... frolicking on the shore (rather tipsily) and watching the city lights reflected in the water.. and on the train back to town, getting my first glimpse of Tokyo Tower through the skyscrapers, its white and orange magnificence brightly-lit against the starry sky. Okay, so that part was mainly awesome because I didn't know that we'd be able to see it (it just --emerged-- from between the skyscrapers!), and the experience was rather like some of the scenes in my dearly-beloved JHS anime, Cardcaptor Sakura. Oh, and the conference itself was excellent, by far the best (possibly only?) JET conference where I received information relevant to my JET experience that wasn't simple common sense. Highly useful for PSG work as well. Aaaaaaaand in the few free hours I had (a morning here, and evening there), I managed to get to a few art museums and see incredible works-- one of Van Gogh's sunflower paintings and many of Rodin's sculptures, including The Thinker (original miniature and later larger-than-life versions) and The Gates of Hell. Who knew that Ueno Park held such wonders? Heck, you don't even need to pay the art museum's admission price to see the most famous pieces! (I was waiting at the gates for the museum to open in the morning and once let in somehow rushed straight past the small but hedgy garden with the famous Rodins... I didn't see them until after wandering through the museum, eyes peeled, leaving wondering if the statues had been sent away for cleaning or something).

Anyway, such incredible people as those I met at the PSG conference were worth another trip to Tokyo, so I went back in mid-November to meet up with some of them and do all those Tokyo touristy things that I'd always wanted to do but never had time to.

I spent most of my nights there in a very nice guest-room of a very generous host, Bryan of the PSG Conference. I really can't sing his praises enough. Not only was Bryan okay with me showing up at his apartment a little past 1 AM (due to delayed flights, etc), after my arrival he even stayed up to chat and plan for the next day: our excursion to a wine festival in Gunma Prefectural. (Okay, so perhaps I will rag on Bryan a little. Despite living on mainland Japan-- and the main mainland, Honshu, at that-- Bryan's Japanese prefectural geography could use a little work. Turns out the wine festival-- and we-- ended up in Ibaraki Prefecture. Which is kind of like saying you're going to Pennsylvania and end up in Rhode Island, but still. It was a tad awkward explaining to the Japanese peeps back on Tsushima why I didn't have any Gunma omiyage/presents for them.)

The next day dawned brightly, but we weren't up to see it. Nope, it was by sure strength of habit, through years of being a morning person, that I woke up a little past 7:30. (I should like to briefly point out that this was the second time that a male traveling companion had set his Japanese keitai alarm, which never went off, and later realized that it was on a Mon-Fri-only setting when we wanted to get up on a Saturday morning... so beware, complicated-keitai owners! Yeah, you wanted the fancy camera and keypad, but remember that you're going to need the mental alacrity to navigate complicated settings at 2:30 AM if you want a decent alarm to work the next morning).

Well, all that meant was that we weren't going to be drinking our wine before noon, which was okay with me. We made the many train transfers and arrived in the early afternoon to a sunny hillside of straggly-looking vineyards and a bunch of drunk Japanese and foreigners alike.

It was fairly awesome, actually. You pay about $12 and get a wine glass, a commemorative button, a corkscrew, and your choice of red wine, white wine, or sparkling cider (and let me tell you, no one was getting cider). Yup, your own full bottle and the means to open and appreciate it in a semi-dignified style. It was no wine-from-a-box, either; the stuff was pretty decent, especially after the first glass. There were lots of snack-y food stalls, too, including the most overpriced bread and Camembert cheese that I've ever seen in Japan.

Oh, and we got a special greeting on the way in from a bunch of grapes (he was a bit sour, I think it was his break-time).

Many glasses of wine, interesting conversations, staring at the sky, and mutual snuggles with a highly gay (and boyfriend-ed) ALT later... the sun dipped behind the hills, it started to get chilly, and it was time to get in a never-ending line of drunk people waiting for a bus back to the main train station. Really, there must've been at least 300 people waiting in line, but for all of that it moved fairly quickly.

We had to pass through a station on the Tokyo metro loop to get back to Bryan's place in Saitama and decided to make a detour to Akihabara for my first Tokyo-touristy thing: visiting a maid cafe.

Let me first write that it wasn't at all what I expected it to be... somehow I'd gotten a burlesque-y or sexy image of maid cafes, probably because they have a generally negative image. The random one I went to was quite the opposite, in fact. Yeah, the maids were wearing kind of short skirts, but they were festooned in ribbons and billowing frills too. The inside of the cafe looked more like a kindergarten than a place to sit down and have a drink: bright pastel colors, stuffed animals tucked into corners.. everything screamed "Cute!!!" Unfortunately, you aren't allowed to take any pictures inside maid cafes (except for your food, and that's after your waitress is safely esconed back in the kitchen). You are allowed to pay to take a picture with anyone on the waitstaff, which I did, but out of respect for their privacy I won't post any pictures. The costumes were interesting, too: while the waitresses were decked out in frills, the kitchen staff dressed androgynously. I couldn't help but think of takarazuka actresses. For the most part, though, the cafe was all about cute, even down to the ketchup drippings on my hamburger curry plate:

Quite the opposite from being about sexiness, I think maid cafes offer nonsexual environments for overworked and way stressed-out salarymen to go and forget they're an adult with problems and worries. It's like all the 'cute' characters that are popular at the moment-- they're basically big balls of fuziness, like Winnie the Pooh. No gender roles. At least, that's what the kindergarden-like decor of the cafe made me think... once you enter the door, you can be a kid again. Play dress-up, wear some rabbit ears. Sing a silly song (complete with guestures) with the babysitter--er-- waitress-- about powering-up the delicious of your food.

I found the whole maid cafe experience fun but baffling. I don't think I'd go back just because of the prices; if I'm going to pay just to walk in the door, I'd rather go to a kitty cafe with sure-you-can-pet-me-just-don't-ruffle-the-fur cats lounging everywhere.

Maid cafes definetely fit in with Akihabara's geeky let's-pretend-we're-someone-else mentality, though. Oh, and I finally got to see Akihabara at night with anime billboards:

From Akihabara, Bryan and I went to nichome, the gay district, before heading back. For all I've heard about the place, it was a bit disappointing. I mean, seeing a few drag queens dancing and mingling with customers overflowing onto the street outside of the bar was sort of cool. And we went into a different gay bar later (me masked in the most androgynous fashion I could manage on short notice because we thought it was men-only at first), which featured waiters decked out in briefs and neckties-- only-- wading through the crowds with drinks. But all of nichome, together, was only about a city block, and it was quite male-oriented at that. I guess I just thought there would be more... NoHo was so much more lesbian-friendly than nichome, the most gay area in all of Japan.

We went back fairly early because I wanted to get up and off to my next Tokyo touristy spot the next day-- Kamakura! Now, for someone who's interested in devoting the next 6-8 years of her life to studying Kamakura-period Buddhist literature in grad school, actually going to the place that your time period of interest is named after is quite thrilling. It's the place that Taira no Yoritomo went (moving the political capitol of Japan with him) after willing against the Heike (insert many groans here about _The Tale of the Heike_ and boastful warrriors decked out in distinctive costumes). Its most famous icon is a giant Buddha statue that Yoritomo had built and that you can actually go inside of. So yes, I was quite psyched to visit Kamakura.

Knowing that seeing the Big Buddha would probably be the highlight of the day but also the most tourist trappy, I started at some of the quieter temples for a contemplative beginning. My favorite temple of the day was Tokeiji, of historical renown and nicknamed the "Divorce Temple."

Historical plaque outside of the temple:

Aside from the cool historical background, I liked Tokeiji because it had a variety of intriguing small plants. I don't think they were planted on purpose, but then again, many of the postcards in the gift shop were of similar small plants. They weren't obviously set apart or being particularly looked after, but I found myself walking down the temple paths looking for the next microcosm of beauty.

The graves and some of the other temple features had an untouched look about them. I just love moss growing over Japanese graves and grass growing in thatch.

The next stop of my Kamakura to-go list required a bit of a trek, but it was so worth it. I went to launder my money, Shinto-style! Yup, there is a sacred spring in Kamakura, and if you wash your money in it (and then go spend it), the money will increase and come back to you! Here's a neat little plaque from outside the shrine linking this awesome bit of premodern entrepreneurship with my pal Yoritomo:

Well, I'd gone all that way, I just had to launder my money in the sacred shrine! Knowing I'm going to be a poor grad student soon (with any luck! ..but that's a different shrine for a different day, Tenmangu-Dazaifu in February!), one shouldn't pass up on business deals like this from the gods.

Washing my moola:

Oh, and the spring was in this cool cave, too, with gourds and peace-cranes hanging from the ceiling. Wild place, really.

With the sun starting to sink low, it was time to continue on the crazy mountain path...

...and onto the great Buddha!

Unfortunately, I'd gotten too late a start to manage everything. The entrance to the inside of the Big Buddha was closing just as I arrived. I'll have to save the inside of the Buddha for another trip. I did, however, manage to capture how touristy it is--

--a cheap shot of me being as Buddist as the Buddha--

--and some nice close-ups thanks to my camera's awesome zooming power.

Coincidentally, I'd gone to Tokyo the same weekend that Harry Potter opened in theaters there, so there were tons of posters all around the Kamakura train stations:

..but despite the great temptation to go see it then and there, I managed to hold off because I'd promised the AFU that we'd watch it together when I went home for Christmas.

The next morning saw me bidding farewell to Bryan early and heading off to Tokyo DisneySea. I'd heard i t was a bit cooler in terms of atmosphere than Disneyland, and I'd already been to Disneyland once in Florida way back in elementary school. DisneySea Tokyo was in turns shocking, perplexing, and magical.

The real shocker for me was DisneySea's version of New England. They had a little town set up with shops, etc, that I think was supposedly made in the image of Cape Cod but could've fit the bill of any New England-y coastal down.. with a few changes. First, it was olde towne style, with signs for bobbins and top hats to add to the atmosphere.

Oh, and there was a Titanic-like ship in port:

...but wait, was it not Cape Cod at all, but NYC?

But Minnie Mouse clearly thought she was at Cape Cod, looking into the distance at the greatest atrocity of DisneySea...

..a lighthouse barely bigger than a person, posing as something actually useful.

Even I have to admit that downtown looked pretty good, though... lots 'o Christmas cheer.
..but was this really necessary?

(anyone who's anyone from Maine could tell you that each lobersterman has his/her own individual buoys. So either the above lobster-catching family is a bit whacky with a new buoy each week, or they're buoy pirates).

Yeah, you catch lobster.

You may catch a big fine, too, for all those stolen buoys.

Port-side:

More "Olde Towne" touches... but Pequod St. sounds familiar for some reason.

My favorite part of DisneySea may have been the big show on the water in the early afternoon. It was "Mystic" something and involved a long and convoluted ancient-Greek-myth-esque story, which was narrated over the loudspeakers in Japanese, with lots of exciting music. The important thing for you to know is that it also involved a bunch of crazy magical boats which started out having egg-shaped things on them... they later opened up and projected towers with famous Disney characters or singers/mystical beings perched on top. I really, really liked the boats!

Singer perched on top of a boat:

And ski-doos racing about with kites:

Grand master of ceremonies Mickey:

The wings on the dragons really moved!

This unicorn flapped its wings and reared on hind legs--

See? ^^

The other cool but a bit cheesier-part of DisneySea were the rides. My favorite was:

Most of the ride takes place inside a big volcano-like structure. At the exciting finale, you meet a Bal-roc-like Earth beastie, shoot up a steep hill, and then fly down the other side; the stomach-dropping feeling is quadrupled by a brief glimpse of open sky; the volcano is slightly open on one side to let you see just how far up you are (and how much further you get to fall).

Another thing I liked about DisneySea were the things you could look at while waiting in line; I don't think there was anything special about waiting in line in Florida when I was in elementary school, but all of the rides had interesting things for the waiting-in-line people to get into the atmosphere of their upcoming ride.

This experimental apparatus was part of the Journey to the Center of the Earth line waiting-area.

Another thing I liked about DisneySea was the fact that on certain rides, most of the time single riders (people who come to the park alone) get to be in their own fast waiting-line. For rides like Journey to the Center of the Earth, for example, 6 people could fit into one car; if the groups at the head of the line add up to an odd # of people, then someone from the single-rider line is put in. This basically meant that while other riders were waiting upwards of 2 hours for some rides, I got into a few of them after only 45 minutes of waiting. It wasn't available for many rides, though, and after a certain point in the day not at all.

One of my favorite Disney movies as a kid was The Little Mermaid, so I especially going to the Ariel's Castle part of the park.

This looked like a pretty coral structure from far away, but up close you can tell it's an under-the-sea Christmas tree! (note the starfish-star on top!)

Most of the Little Mermaid-themed rides were inside of the castle structure and meant for little kids; think the underwater equivalent of Dumbo's Flight or carousel rides. I didn't go on any of the, but they looked pretty cool.

I ended the day by doing another Tokyoish thing I've always wanted to do: stay in a capsule hotel! They're sort of like the equivalent of Japanese hostels. You pay a small amount (~2500 yen in my case, or about $30) and get a bed to sleep on plus use of the communal bath/bathroom. For a safe space to crash in Tokyo, clean sheets to boot, it was rather a steal.

The cool thing about capsules is that they are stacked. Instead of open bunk beds, it is what it says: a capsule, or enclosed space.

You can judge from my big LL Bean backpack how big my capsule was. The protrusion in the upper-left corner is my own personal TV!

Thus ends my fall trip to Tokyo-Kamakura-Disneyland.

Fall in Tsushima is followed closely by the unofficial start of mikan season. I say unofficial because Tsushima mikan aren't readily available in supermarkets (at least in The North) until mid-January, but they can easily be found at farmer's stands in the south in early November. Rather than just picking up a bunch there, though, the true mikan connoisseur-- and I do believe I've earned that term-- goes to one of the mikan farms for a U-Pick mikan extravaganza! It's quite a deal, really. You pay 200 yen to pick, which is a stellar price for an all-you-can-eat mikan buffet, and then pittances more per kilo for what you want to bring home. The local farmers encourage pickers to sample various trees and sizes of mikan before picking mikan to fill their bags.

And they are quite right to, as well. Different trees have different ratios of mikan sweet/tartness as well as juciness and size. What is most delicious is in the mind-- or, rather, tastebuds-- of the picker.

I prefer fresh-off-the-tree-in-November mikan to 'aged' mikan in February because the fresh November mikan are less sweet. By picking mikan in Nov-Dec and letting them sit around for a few months in storage, the mikan are allowed to condense their flavors. While the mikan skins in November hug the fruit tightly, by February the fruit has shrunk inwards on itself; this makes for easier peeling, a perk, but also means that the mikan's sweetness is more concentrated. By the end of the mikan supermarket shelf-season in March/April, I think they're pretty darn sickly-sweet.

Even directly off the tree, though, there are varying levels of sweetness. When I went mikan-picking in 2009, I had only begun my mikan education. I found the perfect tree and picked my 5 kg from it. This past trip in 2010, I tried to branch out more. I went with Jesse, one of the 'newbie' ALTs (he's a newbie to me even if he has been here almost 6 months now.. it's like a college "ickle firstie" thing), and Oliver, and we ate our way from tree to tree. Unfortunately this year there have been some mikan mold problems, so our ranging was limited to a line of trees instead of the entire hillside orchard, but it was still much more than enough to end the day with tummies and bags full of mikan. And I believe we can add a new rule to the books about Tsushima mikan: for fresh-off-the-tree, the bigger=the sweeter! (This rule does not apply to mikan from other places. In fact, I think the opposite would be true for Kagoshima mikan, where the Sakurajima mini-mikan are well-known, at least to any good Sakurajima local, to be the sweetest and the best in the prefecture. Oh the joys of travel and the mikan encountered while on the road!)

Here's an eyeful of succulent orange orbs:

And two of the sampling connoisseurs: