A teacher's travels

Winding Down and Checked In

2024-03-31T06:26:00.003-06:00

As March has wound down to an end, temperatures have hit the mid-teens and low-20s. With that, Gabe and I have indulged in shirtsleeves and shorts and shrug our amusement to one another when we pass people who still rely on down jackets to help them bare with the weather. My amusement is muted, because I can still recall a time when the summers in Kyoto gradually eroded my wintry hardiness. In an alternate world, I too would be in layers for +20.

The last few days though, we were refreshed when the breeze cooled us a bit and found ourselves sweltering if we were inside for too long. As we moved through the streets, the temples and other settings whether ancient or futuristic I was taking it all in afresh. There have been many occasions when the place is just too crowded for my liking, but I have reminded myself to keep pace with those around me and to take in what I can of the surroundings.

The blossoms have edged into the light, but remain timid for the most part. Rains on Wednesday and Thursday may abbreviate the season this year before the flowers reach their popcorn glory, but that may depend on whether downpours prevail or the country gets a light drizzle to send the macrophotographers into a tizzy with the extra detail of a bit of moisture to kiss the petals. Without the cherry trees in bloom, my eyes have drifted to familiar friends: the carpets of moss that provide ground cover at so many temples, the ferns that complement them and the shadows that seem to be more poetic or present than they are in other places in the world.

As we wound down our last full day in the country before conceding ourselves to our return tickets, we trekked around Osaka one last time and I navigated the trains with ease that had been lacking earlier in the week. It gradually started coming back to me but throughout the last day or so there have been pangs of recognition that there was so much left unseen. That is the reality even if I’m at home but it is acutely so when trying to repackage 8-years’-worth of “you gotta see” into 11 days on the ground. For Gabe there will be an idea of the lasting impression in a few weeks or months and it will be interesting to hear what he regales me with as he recollects his experience of this place. It will be interesting to see if he targets more of the same for his next trip or if he pursues a mix of experiences that are angled toward a different overall experience.

There is the sense though that the Japan he has seen and will discover will be different from the one I know. The question will be whether the differences in our perceptions of the place are superficial or intrinsic. Will he remember the odd process of buying a ticket into a temple from a vending machine, but only after having the cashier at the break a Y10,000 bill into Y1000s to put into the machine and then having that same cashier tell us we could put the ticket into the small plastic box that sat on the ledge in front of her. Will he grasp the near sacrilege of a Hard Rock Cafe being not only in Kyoto, but in the neighbourhood of the city normally the reserve of the geishas and maikos that shuffle through the narrow streets of tea houses in ancient Gion?

Much will tumble through my head as I process the trip over the next few days and weeks. I feel wistful after this long overdue visit to a place that retains the status of second home, a place that has remained with me and informed me throughout the decades that have passed since I left in 2003. I still gravitate toward the country, its cultures, films, music and books. As for the books, I scanned a reasonable collection of Japanese novels in translation this afternoon, hoping to discover one that might appeal to me during the trip home and beyond. During the subsequent train ride, Gabe was fixated on his Nintendo so I picked up my new novel and in the second paragraph came across a direct reference to one of my favorite (English-language) novels. The serendipity of this connection from the one book I chose from all the options available was a reassuring point to conclude upon.

I will dive into this tense little novel, Fish Swimming in Dappled Sunlight, throughout my travels tomorrow and I will contemplate the serendipity that occurred today and at the outset of the trip as well. I would have liked to have more chance and coincidence mark the trip, but there were also occasions to note where I took matters into my own hands to ensure the trip went the way I wanted. I’m not often one to push things my way, but it was good to see it pay off and keep this little adventure on track. Next up is the trek back to Tokyo on the shinkansen and on to the airport to begin the return to home.

Warmer and Waiting

2024-03-29T06:15:00.006-06:00

The rain and grey that proved pesky and persistent throughout the trip so far relented mid morning Friday after a percussive night of rains. When we headed out, Gabe in a new pair of shorts intended to spare him from the warmth of his jogging pants, he was relieved at the comfort and freedom of the warm weather gear. It was in the mid-teens by the time we were out the door and hit 22 in the afternoon. There were occasional gusts of wind that made me think about where I left my long sleeves at times, but for most of the day we were distinguishing ourselves as Canadians thanks to the absence of down or fleece in our attire for the day.

The blossoms are slowly opening up but this will not be a year like my last cherry blossom season, when the flowers were opened and gone before the first of April. This year, they are easing in almost timidly. Apparently the weather was promising an earlier season but the chill of the last 12-15 days put the brakes on things. There were a few more trees starting to mark the season, but the vast majority, and I risk suggesting that there were tens and hundreds of trees in bloom when I really counted a mere half dozen today, all but one of which were near a parking lot or a construction site that didn’t really invite you to compose an image with an exceptional historic backdrop to it.

My son found a slower, more contemplative stride throughout the stroll through the city today, falling under the spell of the temples he visited and paying his respects as well as he could. I’ll be interested to see what his camera holds after today’s trek through the city.

Reality is starting to set in as well, however. We have three sleeps left before we race back to Tokyo on Monday for the trip east across the Pacific to home. Thoughts dwell from time to time on re-packing, accumulating a few souvenirs and to get some gifts for those we miss. I have achieved my surfeit of pens to that end but there are a few other items as well. I also grappled with the dilemma of purchasing a funky looking piece of ceramic that was roughly cast in various firings of clay that came out in various shades of denim. I would either not use it much, or make it a centre piece for my coffee table at home, but the challenge is bringing it back in one piece as it is about a foot and a half wide and a foot long — not exactly the ideal addition to my backpack or my carry on. To risk breaking it for $100 is not the best move I could make at the moment. Tomorrow, the weekend.

A Boy’s Pop Culture How To

2024-03-29T05:28:00.004-06:00

Thursday meant Osaka, a quick jaunt from Kyoto to the grittier, more urban neighbour to Kyoto’s quiet grace. We caught up with a friend of mine from back in the day who had not seemed to have changed a bit after the passage of 14 years.

We kicked things off with a visit to the city’s port, which is a bit of a playground area, marked by a substantial Ferris wheel and other amenities which included, for this youngster a Lego Land. I’m not sure if it was as large scale as other Lego Lands in the world, but it offered a bit of immersion in the realm of Danish plastics and it featured an outstanding large scale creation of several of the landmarks of Osaka, including its castle, the Umeda Sky Building, the historic baseball stadium at Koshien and a pop of Godzilla ready to glower death at all and any. Nearby was a substantial aquarium, one of many throughout the country, but one highlighted by a whale shark that was in its central tank. We did not get to that as we favoured moving through the downtown core of the city, to sate my son’s appetite for all things related to his favorite anime.

While engaged in that, I got a reminder of how the grit of the city has persisted. Most of the neighborhood shopping streets feel like they have the same merchants they did decades ago and have not gone in the the contemporary brands that have emerged from Japan and gradually gain franchise presence beyond home base. There are signs of gentrification and emerging diversity as more immigrants move in to start their lives in Osaka, but today featured the typical bustle Osaka has always had and no more.

My son got his fill of manga related stores, though his favorite characters were in short supply. He blended in easily and got a few items that satisfied him despite the challenges with supply. With that we headed to a small Star Wars themed bar that was decorated with a plethora of Star Wars memorabilia, including a Han Solo in carbonate sculpture and a washroom made out to resemble Vader’s isolation chamber. It was just the break the lad needed after my more cultural pursuits the day before.

As Kyoto Brims

2024-03-28T07:47:00.002-06:00

In anticipation of this trip, about a month ago, I told my son that there would be a morning when we would get up as early as possible to high tail it to one of the highlights of the trip, the bamboo of Arashiyama, before the crowds overwhelmed the calm and grace of the setting. When I lived in Kyoto, I had grown accustomed to visiting the bamboo at my leisure and often during the quieter seasons or moments of the day when its draw only amounted to a few other passers-by. I’d jogged through it regularly, only competing (for space!) with the occasional rickshaw driver and a handful of tourists, often Japanese tourists with only the faintest smattering of foreigners. Having heard warnings about the numbers of foreign tourists who had been coming over the last decade, I had images of being crammed to a standstill in the bamboo. My goal was to avoid that.

So, when Gabe woke up at 7am, he was ready to go. With minimal prep we were out the door. A quick stop at a convenience store for “fuel” and we were on our way. As we made out way to the train, I noticed a narrow road, its surface comprised of evenly-laid bricks rather than asphalt and I told myself, that if I had to, I could wander down this everyday street, blessed with a touch of history and refinement, and make something of it if we found Kyoto’s new crowds too much. With that I assurance I rode contented to our destination. As we closed in, I pointed out the familiar surroundings, commenting on what had and had not changes and retelling the story of how the signal at a nearby level crossing was sufficient signal for me to get my shoes on, descend three floors to the street and jog a few steps to the platform in time for the train.

When we arrived in Arashiyama, I could guide him to our destination without digression or doubt and get into the bamboo for its rewards. We didn’t find solitude, but the crowds at the bamboo at that part of the morning we moving rather than clotted and I frequently volunteered to photograph couples that settled for shooting one another in solo shots. There were no blossoms out yet, so many of the visitors gravitated to the purple of an azalea for some surrogate colour to tide them over while the pinks and whites remained wrapped for another day.

There were hints of pink in the distance but it was evident that the trees would still need more time, but it was unclear whether it would be hours or days. We wandered on away from the crowds and found another less crowded bamboo grove but one that was troubled by a pair of European tourists who were painstakingly videoing their movements time and again in the pink kimono that the woman was wearing. I paused for a while to assure them they had their shot but abandoned all patience when it was apparent that they’d be doing several takes of their desired shot.

As the day went on and I got a sense of the ways that the tourists were passing their day — some indulging in their vanity photography, others catching up on souvenir shopping at the expense of seeing the place they had paid so much to visit, others simmering at the size of the crowds they were a part of — I wondered if they were getting the deep sense of the place that I had appreciated through out my time living there. The crowds are changing the character of the place. Now it risks becoming a snapshot and a checked box when it has the potential to be a deeper experience for the people who take the time or, the people who have the opportunity to become familiar enough with it to be influenced deeply by the calm and routine there.

One highlight of the day, was the bittersweet return to my favorite restaurant in the city, a humble mom and pop that I visited on a regular basis and brought friends along to over the years as well. This time I was able to bring my son for their version of a fried chicken dish that is one of my favorites and may be among my most comforting. It was as busy as I could expect, but I got in relatively quick and was able to see everyone doing well. Beyond that was the treat of having that favorite prepared as always. It was a brief, insufficient reunion, such is the case when dropping in once a decade, unannounced and while they were at work, The chicken was as good as ever and the connection consistent as well.

The sense of the crowding struck hard after knowing the place to crowd on only the most exceptional of occasions: a Saturday at the height of cherry blossom season, a similar day in the autumn. My return trip through the bamboo proved a challenge with the numbers of people even larger and the path harder than ever to navigate. My recollections of a cab actually plying the route to take someone to O-Kochi Sanso would provoke scowls of disbelief.

More significant, however, were the crowds at a nearby macaque refuge. Throughout the years I lived and worked there, I encountered no more than 20-100 people at a time, The crowds this time around, however, could induce a degree of claustrophobia among the macaques, who had lost a great deal of their space to the nearly 200 tourists who were there to observe them and take in the lives of these primates. There seemed to be fewer of the monkeys, and I wondered what the hordes had done to the life expectancy of the little guys. It likely would have made for an uncomfortably question so I held off, but it was a point of concern. I suspect many of the macaques retreated away from the tourists and further into the mountains.

The city still held much of its charm but I wonder how much of that was a matter of my familiarity with its past or something that would survive the numbers who were passing through. Kyoto’s recent initiatives to control the conduct of tourists around Gion to limit their disrespect of the geishas’ personal space is one intervention in the face of the poor and rude conduct of those tourists who may not know what they could get and experience while in Japan. If the country’s nation and people cannot be respected, then it is appropriate to protect them and correct the false impressions tourist have.

Hiroshima and Miyajima

2024-03-26T06:21:00.001-06:00

Miyajima, March 2024

One of the pillars of this trip was to take my son to Hiroshima and Miyajima. There is, of course, the historic significance of 1945 that is associated with Hiroshima, but Miyajima, a short jaunt further west, has its own significance to me. Listed by the Japanese as one of the three most scenic vistas in the country I made sure to do a side trip there when I first made my pilgrimage to the city of peace in 1996 and was caught up in the quiet beauty of the quaint, little town that surrounded the temple that had it torii gate based in the waters of the straight between the island and the mainland of Honshu.

The first trip to Miyajima resisted being the last. The roll of film I used to for a series of spectacular sunset photographs ripped during processing leave gaping bare holes in the negative through the dappled beauty of the skies that can only recall. With that, it became a goal to get back there whenever I had the chance to try to get those photos again. The second time around, my patience was reward with a sunset that include one of the town’s tame wild deer pacing across the damp low tide sands for a picture that hangs prominently in my home. Gabe, when he was three, was looking through a Japan travel brochure at the kitchen table and did a double take between the brochure and the shot that hung over his shoulder — the first realization that the pictures on the wall were connected to things well beyond our home.

Closing that circle with a visit to the torii was a goal from the outset of the trip. We arrived in Hiroshima on a grey, windy day that succumbed to the heavy cloud and spewed rain as we made our way to Miyajima by the local train car. The peace park was well suited to this atmosphere and lent itself to monochromes far better than it did on the sunny days that I had for my previous visits over the years. It was a fitting palette for the place and the significant chapter of history it notes. After surveying the park and falling into the slow reverent steps it merits, we headed out, Gabe grasping the history of the place and the significance of the monuments and the paper cranes that accumulate there by the hour, amounting to 5 tons each year.

When we arrived in Miyajima, the rain grew heavy throughout our stay, which we cut short when it proved that we would get wetter and perhaps get a cold rather than get a sunset shot. The tide was out once again and the crowds paced the expanded beach and enjoyed a few different angles for the selfies they took from the beach. Even when we were ferrying across to the island, though, it was evident that times were changing and that the large crowds that friends were warning me about were not a mere doubling over the numbers I was accustomed to. The ferry was brimming with passengers as it came ashore and when we got to the island, there were enough tourists for long enough to justify and sustain a Starbucks, which was just a few hundreds metres from the torii and neighboured a new microbrewery.

The franchise’s presence and branding were muted and it may be a matter of taste about whether their signage is less appropriate in this setting that signs that other merchants might have in the same place. By itself, I can find myself ambivalent about it. I have to admit that I went in for a hojicha to warm up and get out of the rain. Prior to locating the shop, however, I had seen the ubiquity of Starbucks cups and shopping bags along my amble from the ferry terminal to the beach — not only in people’s hands, but also left behind in places they littered and cluttered up. As I walked a long I could not help but reach the conclusion that it was not a coincidence that all of these cups and items turned up in such numbers. There weren’t that many people who brought them all the way from the city.

Tourism in Japan may be getting to a point where there will need to be a recalibration or other adjustment to ensure that the numbers of people coming in does not overwhelm the country and its cultural, historical and natural beauty. There was news recently that foreign tourists were being forbidden from visiting Gion, a neighbourhood of Kyoto noted as a home for geisha and maikos who capture a great deal of tourists imaginations. The tourists have been less than considerate of the geisha that they see in Gion and interact with them with a sense of entitlement than an appropriate respect. Consequently, the ban has been implemented. I am not certain if this will have the impact that is sought, but it is a step toward making tourists conscious that they are guests. Having seen the deer on Miyajima be a bit more conscious of the tourists on Miyajima, whether sniffing out food or headbutting tourists who get too close, it is easy to conclude that tourists are not coming to to revere the place as much as to get their money’s worth for the distance they have covered to get to Japan and for the trouble they have put in to travel in such a foreign and, perhaps, challenging destination. It will be a difficult negotiation as a balance is struck between tourist and host and I suspect that there are a large number of Japanese who prefer a quieter amble along the paths that are now crowded with tourists.

The face of the country is changing, however. I’ve seen more visible minorities working the country compared to when I lived here. The higher profile retailers such as Uni-Qlo and Muji are looking for staff with better language skills and that is another sign of the unfolding change that tourism may be provoking. I am just not sure how it will unfold.

Transit to Hiroshima

2024-03-24T20:46:00.004-06:00

We are watching the bedroom towns of Kansai blur past, grey cloud and rain reinforcing the patterns of the apartment buildings arrayed along the sides of the tracks. The Pachinko parlors and their neon overwhelm seem less predominant than memory recalls and it may just be a matter of my attentiveness to them, perhaps the expectation of the wallop of inviting colour to imitate the cacophony of the gambling machines that were assembled behind those glass doors to numb the idle into emptying their wallets in the hope of a big hit.

The weekend was spent moving south and catching up with friends from decades gone by. Tokyo gave me the opportunity to catch up with friends who I knew over twenty years ago to check in, mark the passage of time and determine the way this place has evolved while we have aged more or less well over the 14 years since we last met. My 12-year-old son’s companionship has indicated the biggest change in my life since my last time through here and hearing me wax nostalgic may have prompted him to zone out are try to contribute to the conversation from the perspective of his own time line and the things that would be significant if and when friends head to Canada to reciprocate this visit and get familiar with my home turf.

Saturday’s travel included a stop in Nagoya and a chance to catch up with an old friend from my elementary and junior high school days. Apart from reminiscing about those experiences and exchanging notes on who we knew from the early 80s, we were able to exchange notes on the parallel paths we unwittingly put ourselves upon. We have tracked each other down thanks to Facebook and have been able to acknowledge birthdays on each other’s walls over the last five years, but that is insufficient when compared to the connection we could and ought to maintain in light of the quality of conversation we had and the benefit over the course of our lives. We each landed in Japan around the same time in the mid-90s, him in Nagoya and me in Kyoto and he has continued one to become a "lifer" while I returned to Canada after eight years. There was a bit of what-iffing as we caught up and compared notes on our paths through adolescence on to parenthood and paused to ponder the future that awaits with decisions about retirement and other inevitabilities of middle age. What is next for us and how are we going to manage getting through it? I hope that over time we can reassure one another that we can maintain the connection, but given the distance and the superficial bandwidth on social media, it would be a challenge.

Similar connections we rekindled when I returned to Hikone, the place where I started teaching in Japan. About 45 minutes northeast of Kyoto and blessed with a more leisurely pace of life, it was a beautiful place to get a feeling for the routines and habits that are at the core of day-to-day life with the hurly-burly of larger cities set aside. Meeting these colleagues after 20 to 25 years was wonderful. Throughout though, I was conscious of the fact that there was not enough time for all of the conversations that could occur and to cover all of the territory that we would cover during a longer stay or gathering. I’m left more conscious of the transience of our lives, especially with the paces we can move at. Perhaps it is a matter of typing away on a training that is sprinting much faster than the speed of my thought or fingers.

We have just zipped past Himeji, famous for having the largest original castle remaining in Japan, angling against the window for the very view that would allow us a glimpse through the cityscape that has cropped up between the old edifice and the train station. A lot of “Hang on, lean this way, THERE!” To get a brief look at it as we pass by after a brief stop.

Throughout the trip so far, I marvel again at the efficiency and timeliness of the trains. I actually glimpsed a sign in Tokyo two days ago that the bullet trains were nearly running on time again. It was noteworthy to see an indication that the trains were running with anything less than the precision that ought to displace all metaphors related to Swiss watch makers. When I first arrived here in 1995, I was always amazed by the train system. I wanted the trains to show up late, just once to prove that it was fallible in some small way. I’d stand on a track watching the clock and widening my eyes in expectation only to see the train emerge seemingly out of nowhere at the very moment I was ready to mark the occasion. It was enough to send me into contemplation of the possibility that Japan Rail was hacking the clocks to maintain their success in bring the trains in on time. Once that line of thought disintegrated into weird conspiracy theories, I abandoned the thought process.

This time around, as I see the efforts that JR staff undertake to navigate the large numbers of floundering tourists through the turnstiles and on their way to the desired landmarks they are here to check off their itineraries on the tourist trail. The thoroughness of completing transactions, whether face-to-face or at ticket vending machine, is such that there there are rigorous procedures to ensure that everything is done for the sake of minimizing the exposure to failure in any of the procedures and processes that they undertake. Beyond that I truly appreciate the attention to detail that goes into something that other societies would do in a more slipshod, take-it-for-granted manner. There is the establishment of the procedures, but the human buy-in is the thing that astounds. That attention to detail is apparent in those transactions I participate in and also in the train drivers’ monitoring of their route as they tear across the landscape. Errors do occur, I’ll admit that, but they are exceedingly rare. All of it rests on the commitment of these people to be equally thorough in their work each and every time they do it rather than letting it fall under the indifference of rote repetition.

Tokyo

2024-03-22T06:14:00.003-06:00

First Breakfast

Jet lag has yet to really lay into us and we managed a day covering the highlights of Tokyo. Gabe was keen to see the Godzilla Head that loomed over the roof of a cinema that turned out to be just a few hundreds metres from our hotel. Before that I introduced Gabe to Japanese breakfast, he stuck to eggs and bacon to accompany his miso soup and rice. I partook of the same with salmon and a side of beef to provide me up. The other nuance to the meal was ordering it via a vending machine but the clincher was the complement of ice green tea that went along with it.

From there we acquainted ourselves with the neon of Shinjuku and then we scampered across the city to check off as many of the highlights as we could from Gabe’s Lego set of the Tokyo skyline. We got Tokyo Tower and Tokyo Sky Tree, where we dawdled for a lunch we cobbled together from the food vendors there. Navigating the subways and rail were a bit more than I would have liked but I got the hang of it by the end of the day.

The highlight of the day was catching up with old friends and having some chanko nabe for supper. Chanko nabe is the typical bulking-up diet of sumo wrestlers and it makes for a hardy warm bit of comfort food as the spring winds continue to chill the bones today.

We even managed to navigate relatively well as we sought to get back to our hotel, something we found problematic upon our arrival. There were three hotels with the same chain all within 700m of one another and having near similar names, owing to the neighbourhood that were all located in. We were a little wary of that as we made our way back tonight but managed to aim ourselves at “our” hotel well enough not to see either of the other two.

Prelude: Vancouver

2024-03-20T14:01:00.003-06:00

To busy the lede, my son and I are on schedule to depart as planned in about 90 minutes time, subject to the minor vagaries of air travel. I’ll pull back the curtain for a moment to indicate why it is slightly more involved than I suggest with that benign sentence. Monday morning I got an email from Air Canada, which took the initiative to be proactive enough to intercede before anything happened to let me sully their reputation with rants galore. They invited me to rebook my departure, free of charge, to get out ahead of a major snow event forecast to hit Calgary this morning. After a bit of pondering and a few reviews of the forecast, I indulged in the caution to fly out a day early rather than subject myself to the stress of sprinting to the airport in the snow this morning and risk sitting in the departure lounge as flight after flight was surrendered to the elements.

The getaway succeeded and we were on our way. In Vancouver, however, passengers were asked to volunteer to surrender their seats for alternate arrangements. Once I could confirm the alternative of taking the flight I was scheduled to take and arrive on time instead of a day early, I agreed to sit back for a day. Air Canada’s compensation made the rearrangement quite appealing.

It is tempting to ponder the synchronicity of it and I may look back on this in the future as an opportunity seized but for now, it is worth acknowledging it as a chance to take a breather and reset myself for the trip. As the dates on my posts to this blog might suggest, it has been a while — not just to post here, which I haven’t done since August 2011, but to travel this ambitiously as well. There have been trips over the years, but it has been dominated by resorts, all-inclusives and essentially destinations that smooth down the probabilities of travel to the less imposing concerns. A windier day. A dearth of my favorite nibbles poolside; that kind of thing. Not quite as much to write about as has been the case in the past on this blog.

For the last few weeks I’ve been asked if I’m excited, and my response has been muted. I haven’t exactly been jumping out of my skin to the thrill of visiting old haunts that made my neighbourhood and routine when I lived in Japan and reconnected me to the place on so many levels when I last visited in 2010. If anything, I’ve been a bit apprehensive. Part of it is a matter of ensuring that my son and I manage to stay joined at the hip, especially when we are in Tokyo, where he facility for distraction may leave him in the dust somewhere in Shinjuku or in Tokyo Station while I’m more fixed on the path ahead.

Going over this time, I also conscious of my friends’ indications that things have changed since I last lived there and that the tourist trails, especially on the eve of hanami, cherry blossom season will be drastically more crowded when I was last in Japan and took advantage of my local smarts to steer away from the hordes, who will be armed for selfies this time around.

Over the last week or so prior to the trip, however, I was not quite myself and I may have even been dreading aspects of the trip more than looking forward to them. Is my Japanese still up to snuff? Am I going to navigate Tokyo easily enough? Am I, after going as long as I have without a trip of this ambition, capable of enjoying myself. Apart from the pedestrian nature of recent travels, they have been briefer as well and not quite indulgent as 12 days in Japan (or anywhere for that matter.). There was definitely a stronger sense of dread 36-48 hours ago. Perhaps I’ve been shaped more by an anticipation of the emotional reaction I’ll have to revisiting places and friends that have left such a lasting impact on my personally, aesthetically and intellectually in ways that remain indelibly evident more than 20 years after I returned to Canada. Still, at the same time, it has left me wondering if my own predispositions or the habits that have formed as a means to get through the last four (pandemic and post-pandemic) years have left a chronic mark on me that needs to be dealt with quite intensively if I don’t “snap out of it” on this trip.

This afternoon, however, after an overnight in Vancouver and a better night’s sleep, I am in a better frame of mind and though there is no empirical measure to tick to a red line and allow the declaration, “Yip, he’s excited now,” I’m more inclined to coach myself to enjoy this and make the most of this opportunity rather than navigate it clear of the chaos that might unfold if my son and I get separated or the crowds diminish that sense of familiar haunts and locations being mine in the way they were when I could visit them at dawn, jog through them without the harassment of tourists, cabbies and rickshaw drivers who will impede my movement during the midday. I even found myself adopting a more open, talkative and grateful mindset during the 24 hours here. I’m coming around.

Walking Vancouver yesterday afternoon and this morning, my son and I fell into conversations about our surroundings and observations in ways that I anticipate we will when we touch down in Tokyo and then follow the trail to Kyoto and Hiroshima. There was a sense of the rhythm and dialogue that we could fall into when we are on the road. We have figured a good contingency in the event we get separated and we have our first day in Tokyo planned for a gradually return to life with a few key spots to hit as we start to structure the Friday ahead with my first reunion and dinner plans for an item that my son has not had yet.

Time to board and settle in for as much sleep as possible.

Summing Up Iceland

2011-08-14T07:45:00.000-06:00

Serene is not first word that would come to mind when talking about Iceland, but after a week there it is one of the most sufficient words that comes to my mind. The looming volcanoes, North Atlantic and harsh winds can easily rebut my claim, but not a day went by when I just gazed at the patina of a moss-covered lava field, a basalt formation, or a stretch of land to the ocean and then ocean to sky to just sit in wonder or empty my mind completely.

My own experience in the Canadian Arctic, where I lived at the outset of my career as a teacher, rid me of any impulse to describe the Icelandic landscape as barren, desolate, or otherworldly. The exposure to Iceland’s remote, uninhabitable landscape was at once humbling and easing. Visiting volcanoes, glaciers, waterfalls and geysers in such proximity to one another satisfied my appetite for adventure and created a sense of wonder that makes it hard for Iceland to escape my imagination, albeit a scant few days after returning home. It is not a place or a nation that, neatly wrapped up in a package of confirmed preconception, I can dispose of it with a dismissive “been there, done that.”

Iceland was very much what I expected: spacious, illuminating, stimulating, daunting and compellingly scenic, probably a close match to what comes to anyone’s mind when the nation is mentioned. One day trip was threatened by volcanic activity that wiped out the main road to a spectacular glacial lagoon three weeks before our trip. To my surprise a new road was quickly built and I was afforded a view of the three stretches of the old road that now stretched out into the ocean, perpendicular to their former location. Despite confirming my expectations or preconceptions the way it did, my interest and fascination with Iceland is only deeper and there is a strong desire to go back sooner rather than later to contemplate the landscape or the possibility of being in an exceptionally remote and silent place with my thoughts.

A distinct difference between Iceland and the Canadian Arctic is that urban life is not quite as far away. Throughout the week, I made day trips from Reykjavik to the more remote parts of the country and returned by evening. Reykjavik is an intriguing harbour city that teemed with tourists from Europe for the most part with ample representation from North America and Asia. It is hard to discern the effects of their economic difficulties since 2008 without a before and after to compare but despite the evident missing teeth from the city’s harbour front and the stark evidence of papered over businesses, there is not much evident sign of decay or hardship in the city. There were not any indications of homelessness. There were stories of large numbers of families having to turn over their homes because their foreign currency mortgages were too onerous for them to maintain and there was a substantial residential development in the suburbs of Reykjavik that now stands abandoned. If there is any evidence that I could pick up on during my time in the city it was a certain youthful defiance and will to get through the economic difficulties

With just 320,000 people it is puzzling to determine how Iceland has the human capital to do things that other nations do. Perusing a bookstore, I was in wonder at the number of people the country would have at its disposal to translate literature into and out of a language shared on this remote island alone. Beyond that, there were questions along the lines of how Iceland staffed its diplomatic corps or what nuances and obstacles there are to the import and sale of cars for such a small, remote population.

Iceland is advertised or conceived, for myself at least. The time I spent there, though brief, left a lingering imprint of a unique place of compelling sights and humbling change and a people characterized and strengthened by an intimate understanding of its realities and a resilience that likely typifies and surpasses its Scandinavian brethren.

Random Thoughts on Iceland

2011-07-29T13:42:00.004-06:00

Surprisingly, Iceland has 150!! golf courses. One for every 2000 people.

There was a moment Tuesday when I wanted to tell myself, "This is great, I really have to come back in the summ...-er. Hmmm."

Seriously though, I really would love to get back.

Iceland is a very easy place to lose track of time. Not one day went by where we didn't look at our watches to tell ourselves, "It's 9:30 already?"

Reykjavik is a very compact walkable city. The suburbs that are beyond the city, however, may be in for a short lifespan given the economic problems that emerged in 2008.

Speaking of 2008, about 4500 families lost their homes because of mortgage issues. The problems there seem to be relatively hard to notice but their currency has plummeted two about 2/3 of its pre-collapse value.

Apart from that there is a feeling that there is a rather unhurried pace of life. It might be a matter of getting 99% of their energy by green means - geothermal and wind primarily - and essentially a passive method when compared to oil and gas.

It was remarkable at times to realize how transient the land itself actually is. We drove on one road that had been whipped together in the space of a week to replace a road that had been washed away by flooding caused by volcanic activity.

The water in Iceland is so pure that they have had some problems with their sewage systems. Matter just doesn't get broken down by any bacteria or minerals in the water. To ensure that the water systems don't corrode, sulfer is actually added to the water. The purity is a consequence of glacial water filtering through the lava into ground water.

Redefinitions

2011-07-27T10:40:00.002-06:00

Serene and exotic need to be applied to Iceland. Serene might be a harder sell if you have had to fend off the harsh winds that buffet the place on a regular basis, and if you are preoccupied with the volcanoes that are far less active than the media have made them out to be over the last year or so.

It is quite easy to find a place to hide yourself away somewhere of the beat trail. The fact is that the beaten trail - if you are talking about the single lane highway that rings the country, for instance - is that it doesn't take too much to get away from civilization and contemplate the calming patina of a moss covered lava field an ash desert or the lapping of the waves on the shores of the island.

Much of what I've seen here reminds me of the granite shores of Nova Scotia or the Canadian Arctic. The geology is different of course, but the solitude with the elements that you can so easily find here is so easy a place to find some peace and let your mind wander to greater questions or greater throbs in the passage of time than the ticking of your watching or the turning of the day (something that seems almost optional here at the moment.) When the resilient layer of moss envelopes everything from where you are to the horizon and beneath it and the hardened lava notions of what lives and routines existed below it a mere 200-odd years before and to be reminded that on geological terms this is all so young and to wonder what archaeologists might find if they ever find away or reason to dig below to find out what people did on this same spot once upon a time... It is a small miracle that our thoughts can find such contemplation and caught up in the space.

The bus tours were sufficient during our time here, but it doesn't take much to conclude that the next trip ought to be done by car. The bus tours still insist on stopping at the obvious landmarks that are eye catching anywhere: waterfalls, volcanoes, glacial lagoons. (Okay two out of three.) Even as it was it is a little hard to engage the interest of sullen teenagers. I'm sure that they would rather have the house and a supply of frozen pizzas for the two weeks or would sell it as a much more exciting or seismically unstable locale if they had the opportunity.

My trip has been too short and too quick. There is much more that I'd like to take in next time around.

First Thoughts in Iceland

2011-07-24T09:34:00.002-06:00

I don't think I'll be able to structure my first posting in Iceland around a destination at this point. We've been in the country for three days and for all of the promises that are beyond the limits of Reykjavik, the capital still holds a strong allure.

Saturday was spent out on a tour of the so-called Golden Circle and visiting the waterfalls at Gullfoss, geisers beyond there and being completely rapt with the landscape. The first temptation is to throw the word barren into the mix and talk about moonscapes but there is an undeniable life out on the land beyond Reykjavik. There is a grey-green moss that covers places for huge stretches at a time, but there are plants of several varieties to choose from. It is certainly not of the variety that your would find further south in either Europe or North America but there is enough variety of those hardy breeds to dispel notions of the place as barren. There is always a flower finding root in a stone to illustrate a metaphor but things never flourish too far. As our tour guide said on Saturday, "If you are lost in the woods in Iceland, just stand up."

At this point I am completely preoccupied with how a country of 300,000 people finds the people to get all of the things done that nations need to do for themselves. How big is their diplomatic corps? Their civil service? How many translators and interpreters do they have and how good are they at what they do? There have to be countless other examples of fields of endeavour, or national needs that there are so very few people to choose from. A look at the corrugated walls or the minimal lines of the buildings here and I wonder how the architect or architects of this country encapsulate and communicate the desires and needs of this country into the function and form that a nation desires. Whether this expertise is something that comes from one of Iceland's nordic brethren would be a satisfactory answer but I'm still wondering how a nation finds the means to define itself in terms other than the most cliched. A thousand years of history and an environment that is so unique and assertive certainly help.

Another thing that has certainly stood out is the sense of design and the visual that is here. I'm not sure if it is specific to Iceland and has its own distinct look and style or if it has happened to be outsourced from their Scandinavian neighbours. There are several small niches of Reykjavik where there is a vibrant splash of colour - usually from graffiti artist. The first few times I've seen it I've wanted to proceed with caution, not sure if I was heading into a dodgy neighbourhood or some realm of protest in the aftermath of the financial collapse here. I've gotten the feeling, however, that it is more a matter of exercise a particular desire to express for expression sake.

At this point, I still don't feel like I have the grasp of Reykjavik that I'd like. It may remain beyond my grasp well beyond the end of this trip but it has been an entrancing host thus far.

Tea

2010-11-27T06:13:00.003-07:00

One of my musts of this trip to Japan has been tea. It is quite tempting to use tea as a verb to give the full range of applications or identifications with the word but it has been a part of our routine and a priority for shopping, whether for ourselves or for souvenirs.

At a temple market a few days ago we splashed out on a bit of tea, buying just over a kilogram. On Friday, however, we did ourselves one better by going to the city of Uji, just 25 minutes outside of Kyoto. I don't know if it was a coincidence or not that the train was that soft green of matcha, but throughout the city there was the crisp waft of matcha in the streets. Nadine made a point of tasting the local version of the matcha ice cream and we wandered around from tea shop to tea shop to see what varieties of blends and uses they had come up with for the stuff. There were chocolates made with the matcha (including matcha flavoured Kitkats), a variety of wafers, cookies and confections to choose from, not to mention the delicate, pretty sugar candies that are made to compliment the bitter taste of the matcha.

While in Uji, we also attended a quick sado or tea ceremony, a reminder of the attention to detail that is such a part of Japanese routine. Watching the discipline and grace of the ceremony made me even more curious about the ceremony and left me wondering what nuances there would be to different people's execution of the ceremony. If nothing else, it was a quiet moment of our day and a chance to sit and absorb things at a more leisurely pace. It was very easy to forget everything that was beyond that bare room.

After the ceremony we meandered back through the city, also known as the place where The Tales of Genji - one of the earlier examples of the novel - was written and the home to the ancient temple that is featured on the Japanese 10-yen coin. It was a great respite from the crowds and bustle that had been so common at the popular sites in Kyoto. At our unhurried pace, we probably could have passed even more of the day in one of the more sedate and contemplative quarters of Kyoto.

Rapture in Higashiyama

2010-11-24T07:59:00.003-07:00

It was a good day to meander and one to be thankful not to be on the group tour and trundled along from place to place because of some tour guide's unknown motivations.

We took the subway across town and stepped off at Keage Station and headed north to Nanzen-ji, Eikan-do and the Path of Philosophy. Any one of these three places could have preoccupied as for the whole day and as it was we ended up crossing two other destinations off our to-do list for the day.

At Nanzen-ji we were first presented with the sight of a group of students all attired in traditional clothing. They straddled the age between high school and university and it was easy to assume the shots were commemorating a graduation but I still could not pin down their age. Through the trip we have seen a large number of people in traditional clothing. Part of it is the 7-5-3 Festival where families bring their children of those three ages to the temples to celebrate the occasion. There have been a number of times to dote on the sight of a 3 year old girl in a kimono still wanting and managing to bust out the toddler enthusiasm despite the formal attire she is packaged in. The juxtapositions have always been amusing and charming. Apart from the children though, there have been people of all ages. Mostly women in simpler kimonos but today there were a few male classmates in the group who were comfortable roaming the temple grounds.

The turning leaves continued to draw my focus and just when I was convinced that I had run out of ideas for what to shoot and how, I still found another nuance or background to photograph in. At Nanzen-ji there was a brick aquaduct that passed through to the south of the temple grounds. At Eiken-do there was a pond that reflected a deep blood red in the afternoon and was the refuge of a group of ducks that took great pleasure and splashing around and throwing themselves at one another. At the Path of Philosophy there was a mix of shadows and reflection on the water. All told, as I said earlier, each place enchanted and could have preoccupied us for the entire day. The one thing that has become true about this trip is that it is very easy to want to return to some of these places day after day and embrace that contemplation that sets in after a few minutes of staring at the space you are in.

Shopping, Food and Random Notes

2010-11-22T06:48:00.005-07:00

Shopping
Today was spent in Osaka basically to pass a rainy day with a bit of pre-planned shopping to satisfy our fetishes for Japanese pottery and stationery. Osaka is nothing even closely resembling a respite from Kyoto. The opposite has always been true. Back when I lived in Osaka it was easy to lose touch with nature or even the passage of the seasons amidst all of the concrete. There are few of the character buildings and charming boutiques that we discovered in most parts of Kyoto that we have visited so far. In fact there was one occasion when I was reminded that fall was coming when I saw a banner outside a restaurant announcing a "fall harvest rice fair" - so easy it is to lose track of time in the concrete bowels of the subway system and the sheltered arcades of Osaka. For a bit of grit, however, and a feel for urban life without getting overwhelmed by the megagopolis beast that is Tokyo, Osaka can fill the bill.

One of the goals of the trip was to load up on Japanese pottery and the opportunities ranged in about the same way that hotel accommodations can. Comparable to the wide range of options that - for hotels, run the gamut from capsule hotels to 5-star luxury in Ginza - there is the comparable opportunity to range from the 100 yen stores to the masterpieces that are made either by local living potters or classic Japanese pieces (and prices) that would take your breath away. We have seen the masterpieces in the little boutiques and we'll stop regularly at whatever boutiques we chance upon next.

For our purchases, we focused our attention on two streets that specialize in supplying local restaurants. One is in the south part of Osaka and the other is in Tokyo near Asakusa. Apart from the dishes, there are countless shops selling banners, signage, chopsticks, cooking utensils, aprons, and plastic food. The shops were each an experience in themselves. Some were crammed with single samples of their inventory and every little pile that we sorted through provided a new treasure or a nuance on the presentation of a dish. Others had their entire inventories out on the shop floor, making browsers tread the aisles with the uncertainty and the quest for balance that is reserved for tightrope walkers in a circus. Some of these more crowded shops made me wonder aloud if they made more money on breakage than on sales that got out the door. In the end we hit (wrong word?) two shops for dishes and we will probably add a bit more that we will rationalize as serving dishes. We will let you know when we get over looking at the stuff and decide to break it in.

Food (for the non-fish eater)
We have managed to minimize our exposure to fish throughout the trip. Not that it is my goal but Nadine is not a big fan of fish and we have been steering clear. Our trip has made me recall an anecdote I heard from tourists who came to Japan during the 2002 and either complained or boasted that the ate McDonald's for their entire trip. We've eaten cheaply and enjoyed a lot of the food we've had.

On our way through Osaka we noticed a street that was closed for an imminent festival. We wandered the street and there were food vendors of all sorts on hand. In our wandering we scooped up yakitori, which is basically a chicken kabob, some karaage, fried chicken which is not to be confused with kurage which is jellyfish and okanomiyaki, Nadine's favorite. Okanomiyaki is hard to describe and the comparisons to pizza or omelets don't quite suffice. We have had it twice so far and the best place to have it is Hiroshima which has its own version of it that includes soba noodles in the recipe.

Other items:
Ton-katsu at Katsu Kura: Ton Katsu is a breaded pork cutlet and Katsu Kura is a chain of restaurants, mostly in Kyoto. There other chains that do a good job of it but the Katsu Kura experience offers a bit more ambience with their nouveau Japanese decor, all you can eat salad, rice and miso soup and the simplest little exercise in grinding your own sesame seeds to add to your dipping sauce.

Chicken Karaage at Saganoya in Arashiyama: My favorite mom 'n pop in Kyoto. It is just outside of JR Saga Arashiyama Station. It is a bit removed from the crowds and they do a pretty good job of everything. Since I was last there on a weekly basis many moons ago, they've come up with an English menu and the chicken karaage is better than anything I've had at Japanese restaurants in Canada who attempt it and they beat the street vendor stuff hands down.

Scrimping?
There are all sorts of places that specialize in cheap meals under even $4 in Japan now. A lot of them are kind of a workman's kind of place with a meal so cheap and quick that it would make you wonder if you could do it more cheaply at home. Some just specialize in gyuu-don, a bowl of rice covered with a layer of shaved beef. There are countless other "dons" too that are served with chicken, tempera, yaki-tori, the aforementioned pork cutlet and more. Be careful considering how much you want to scrimp on these things. Ultimately quality is being sacrificed but more importantly in the Japanese diet you would be moving away from the ideal of a daily menu that features 50 different ingredients. Rather than trying to break things into 4 food groups and proceeding from there, they basically push variety and consequently moderation of each of those ingredients.
Random thoughts:
I have told Nadine that there are targets on the urinals in the men's room to help with aim. In response, she told me there were urinals in the women's rooms. (She will look for targets next time.)

I have managed to refrain from buying books on this trip. I ogle the three-volume Japanese version of my favorite Japanese author's current book which won't be translated into English until fall 2011.

Hiking seems to be the reserve of the older crowd in Japan. There are very few people out on the trails who were younger than us.

I'm not sure if Japan's technological wonders are in as much abundance as they used to be 10-15 years ago. I've yet to see that must-have device or gadget that would compare with mini-disc players of the 1990s. They didn't really cross the pond to North America in the end anyhow.

Using the bullet train as much as I have this trip has made me wonder about how the train has altered everyone's sense of space or Japan's size.

Arashiyama

2010-11-20T05:44:00.003-07:00

For those who have seen more than ten pictures of Japan or seen the movie Memoirs of a Geisha, Arashiyama is the place that conjures up those images of an other worldly bamboo grove, rustling and clacking in the winds that pass through. I had the absolute privilege of living there and visiting again brought a wide mix of emotions. There were changes in the community needless to say and despite the changes to the roster of local businesses those tweaks paled in comparison to the constant beauty of the place. People had warned me or asked me how I would deal with any changes that would occur there and I assured them that there would not be anything I could not handle. Arashiyama is one of those places that ought to be preserved and maintained and the people who know that or at the very least stand to benefit from its long-standing beauty would not allow too much to change. The macaques will always amuse and enchant with their surreal take on humanity. The photographers will always cluster on the side of the river to shoot the boats as they pass under the maples. Tenryuji will always communicate the passing of the seasons with haiku evocation.

The bamboo grove, of course is as it always was. Unfortunately that also means that there are countless taxi drivers who feel they can drive through the grove with impunity and I had to call out "Car" more often than a 12-year old play street hockey for an entire Saturday afternoon. Hopefully someone will get it into their heads that it is a place best appreciated by foot and that if one cannot make their way through there on their own two feet they ought to just go without.

The other key component of the beauty of Arashiyama is Tenryuji, the temple that is embraced by the grove. The temple's garden is one of the most spectacular examples of Japanese gardens and after spending another 2 hours roaming through and taking it in in its autumnal glory, I am still tempted to squeeze another visit in before my all too brief visit here concludes.

Not all of the changes were as easy to take as I had imagined. Friends whom I haven't seen in the last 7 years are a little older and far more frail than they were when I was last here. Time etches its tyranny on us all, but it is far more obvious to the eye when we are reuniting after a long time away. I'm sad and glad to have come.

The First Three Days in Kyoto

2010-11-20T05:19:00.002-07:00

Hard to know where to begin when talking about the place where I lived for so long. There have been changes; the most stunning of which has to be the closure of the Maruzen bookstore, a place where I regularly recharged my library and my sanity (if need be) over the years. In its esteemed location now stands an 8-storey karaoke centre. Enjoy spinning the metaphors out of that.

The visit to Kyoto has been punctuated by encounters with school students of all ages who are on their school excursions and have uniformly been cut loose on the tourists to interact a bit for the sake of practicing their English. We have maxed out at three encounters a day, usually with a group of a half-dozen girls who - as students are wont to do - try to get their homework done as quickly and painlessly as possible. There is a "hi" or two and then they cut to the chase by thrusting a paper at us with the request, "Message please." Nadine has enjoyed the situation as they have tried to take the easy way out and I have either done my best to betray no knowledge of Japanese or responded discreetly enough that it takes them a few minutes to come to the revelation that the gaijin has been speaking Japanese to them for the last ten minutes.

Apart from those encounters the sights have been as rewarding as ever. The walk through the streets that lead to Kiyomizu Dera, one of the biggest and most visited temples in Japan was a rewarding stroll and enjoyed dawdling in and out of shops and boutiques to look at old-fashioned handicrafts, sample the locally made snacks, puzzle over the $21 chopsticks and dream about the local pottery. There were also enough shops giving samples of their stuff to keep us fed for our stroll and allow Nadine to expand her interest in Japanese food.

As Always... Hiroshima

2010-11-17T04:53:00.003-07:00

Hiroshima is one of the very few places on earth to merit secular pilgrimage and my fourth visit there was as important as the previous three. Each time the mark has been distinct and indelible: the first for the unforgettable imprint of the generosity of Hiroshima's people; the second with a respect for the apple doll-like older women who tended the park grounds, a thankless consequence at this peace mecca; the third time with the opportunity to identify the Children's Memorial as my favorite part of the park and this fourth occasion to drive all of it home one more time.

My past visits to the park have been early in the day or late at night, when I have been able to meditate on the place without interruption. Quiet debates would emerge and ebb away in some resolution that would leave me nodding to myself with a new notion about any number of small or big issues - the small more often than the large oddly enough. Should these kids be skateboarding here? Should the Dome be maintained as it survived the bomb or allowed to disintegrate? Do those women really have to be cleaning this place up after surviving that day as well?

Arriving around noon from nearby Miyajima, however, the solitude to nudge me into those reflections was not possible. The park teemed with school kids of all ages. There were enthusiastic elementary students all bonded together by matching ball caps of red, yellow or white, depending on the school. The kids were racing about in the leaves - the Peace Park is a park after all - choking back their lunches or asking the foreigners to indulge in their efforts to complete an English assignment during their travels. We encountered three groups of kids, all from schools in Kyoto near where I lived or taught in the past and I enjoyed shocking them with my Nihongo and familiarity with their neighbourhoods. (One group dared to tell their teacher within earshot that they did indeed ask me all the questions that they were assigned and I called them out to inform their teacher that all they did was thrust a paper in front of me to say "Peace message, please." Once a teacher, always a teacher.)

We wandered the park, starting at the A-Bomb Dome and gravitating toward the Children's Memorial on the opposite side of the river. It is hardly the visual icon that the dome is but it is much more of a focal point or a gathering place at the park. Where the dome invites detached, solitary silence and reverence, the Children's Memorial is the focus for the first stirrings of a civic engagement or embrace. In the harsh clear light of noon, on a day slightly cloudier than Hiroshima was on August 6, 1945 we watched the cranes arrive. We examined the cases where children from around the world added their cranes and good wishes. We watched classes of kids stand before the memorial to take turns to make pledges and speeches to one another. An entire Grade 6 class sang with reverence and hope while tourists like myself lingered on the edges of their rite of passage allowing them some privacy during a moment that so heart-rending or heartwarming to witness that had to be even more so to call your own. I redirected my gaze to the cranes, but my ears stayed with the children. When the song finished, I caught the eye of three of the boys, smiled and gestured quiet applause.

The cranes keep coming and coming.

The museum once again reminded me of the accurate words I heard in 1996 when I made this pilgrimage for the first time, "It will shake your heart." The crowds of kids from all over the country, mixed in with adults from all over the world moving about elbow or elbow, to be awed and horrified by what this comparatively little bomb could do. Both groups probably wondered if the other truly "gets it" the older wondering if the kids are absorbing the realities or if they are just getting the material they need to recite when they get back in the classroom and the kids wondering if the adults grasp what might be a uniquely Japanese tragedy. In the end, it is a question of what makes us human and in that there is probably reason today to feel a little more optimistic.

Japan 2010 - Arrival and First Thoughts

2010-11-15T13:31:00.003-07:00

Natsukashii is the Japanese word for nostalgia and I more loosely translate it as "it seems like old times," or "it takes me back." I've been back in Japan for the first time in seven and a half years and it feels like I've never been away at all. The names of the latest cutesy pie idols are changed but the pouts and posturing seem the same and the boy band that was all the rage when I first arrived here 15 (eek) years ago seems to have reached middle age with their revenue streams as intact as ever before.

While making our way from Narita Airport to the Tokyo suburb of Matsudo, my wife and I spotting the quirky icons of Japanese life: the underemployed escalator greeter who bowed as we trundled our luggage off to the train; the thoroughness that each transaction was completed with; the mix of kitsch and grace that intermingled to the extent that it evoked my own saw about Japan and Japanese culture - everything is taken to an extreme.

The picture above exemplifies the frequent odd juxtapositions that are hard to qualify as random. We happened by and we invited for a hot, foamy cup of matcha at a temple dedicated to a Tokyo based painter. The temple was celebrating a one-day-a-year occasion and more than anything else it was a good opportunity to stop for the respite and the spaciousness of the (recorded) koto - a Japanese stringed instrument. We sat down following a flurry of bows, gestures and raised eyebrows at the Japanese that was coming out of the white guys. We sat for a moment and were served our teas along with a little traditional candy. I lifted my mug from the white plastic tray, did a double take and found myself, indeed, looking at the beribboned mouthless one: Hello Kitty.

Crushing Silence from Iran

2009-06-24T21:38:00.005-06:00

Throughout the days that have followed the outcome of the June 12 election in Iran, the people of that country of taken to the streets and responded and protested against their willful government in a manner that has endeared them and their nation to the world in a way the rulers of the Islamic Republic of Iran have never been able to do over the last 30 years.

As the government has employed its tools of repression in the last few days things have taken a dreadful, bleak turn. Lives have been lost and snuffed out, all of them equal in their tragedy despite the fact that we still have not been able to count them.

The most disappointing thing is the lack of response from older men in positions of power who seemingly had the influence to steer Iran away from the course it is on now and direct the government towards achieving a rational detente with its own people. Instead the Revolutionary Guard and the Basij continue to assault, beat, kill and detain people without discretion. As this crackdown began, I thought it would undermine the credibility and authority of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad but I grow cynical that the Ayatollahs are demonstrating all of the worst characteristics of politicians in their effort to sustain their control of the country blind to all of the principles that they claim to stand for.

As the mainstream media gets arrested or forced out of the country and the Iranian government finds a way to duct tape the eyes, ears and mouths of the Twittering citizen-journalists, most significantly Persiankiwi, I am deeply saddened and discouraged by the silence that is follow over the opposition movement. Days ago these people were lauded the world over for their convictions and their bravery, even by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, but as the government of Iran make clear their willingness to oppress its people and shatter the facade of stable democracy they fabulated about earlier this month, it is frightening to consider how far this government is willing to go.

As the next protest is mounted, I anticipate it with more anxiety than hope. Mir Hussein Mousavi's recent silence, along with that of Ali Hashemi Rafsanjani and former President Mohammad Khatami, harbinger bleaker times ahead rather than anything that will mark the positive reform and advanced freedoms that were distant but still light years closer than they are now.

As things proceed from here I just hope that my friends there and their families are safe.

Iran

2009-06-17T09:04:00.003-06:00

In August 2005, I had the opportunity to work in Tehran for a month, teaching English to a group of professional engineers as part of a Masters of Engineering program. My time there was one of the most interesting, rewarding and profound experiences that I have had as a traveler or educator. I invite visitors to the blog to read my posts from 2005 to help give some more shape to the place that is dominating news headlines at the moment. I was supposed to return again in June 2009, but things have been "delayed."

If you don't have time for that please let me share with you my thoughts and observations on the place where these events are taking place.

Iran first splashed into my consciousness the last time things were this uncertain there, winter 1979. The Shah was about to flee from the opposition protests and Ayatollah Khomeini ascended from exile to leadership of the country. At the end of the year, the US Embassy was captured and a 444-day drama was hatched that captured world attention and sowed the seeds of enmity that continue to fester between the US and Iranian governments. One of the first books I ever bought for myself was a paperback account of the hostage crisis.

Iran remained very much in the back of my thoughts until the opportunity to go in 2005 was presented to me. Perhaps I should not say the back of my thoughts. With the election of Ayatollah Khatami as president of Iran in 1997, there was hope that the moderate would be able to establish some rapprochement between Iran and the west or at least make the country as moderate as its young population wanted it to be.

When I arrived in Iran in 2005, weeks after Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's election there was a bit of anxiety about the government or police being emboldened to crack down a little stronger on things but there was still a willingness to privately voice disdain for Ahmadinejad's leadership as mayor of Tehran and pessimism about how he would lead the country.

After my 30 days there I came away with the impression that it was a youthful, engaged country aware of the world beyond and eager to resume its place in the world community. Prior to the revolution in 1979 Tehran had aspirations of hosting an Olympics and the economic might and cultural prestige to warrant serious consideration. It had the same standard of living as South Korea before the revolution had fallen far, far behind while the government preoccupied itself with religious issues and its impermeable dogmas rather than the economy. It was the promise of dealing with the economy that won Ahmadinejad what support he got but since 2005 he has squandered that credibility.

At this point I believe that the protests taking place in Tehran and beyond right now are a step in the direction the people of Iran want to go. There will be a great deal of change that will have to take place in order for Iranians to have the country that they want. What is happening is very much like eastern Europe in 1989, though it may not be as "velvet" as the changes in Czechoslovakia or East Germany.

I encourage you to read on. Check the archives for 2005. If you have any questions let me know and I'll give you the best info I can or send you to a reliable resource.

Last Sleeps

2008-12-21T06:46:00.002-07:00

We are now back in Saigon for a last sleep and a half before heading home. Cambodia is a fresh and treasured memory. The bustle of Saigon has reminded us of the differences between the two countries. Buddhism is much more present in Cambodia and greetings are always punctuated by pressing hands together, something that has never happened in Vietnam and something I had a hard time breaking myself of after returning here this evening.

The first impulse is to compare the two places and there are sharp differences between the two. Apart from the religious differences - Vietnam having more Christians - there are also significant economic differences. Vietnam seems to be much better off. Both countries are developing quickly but it is hard to tell which is faster.

Cambodia is getting a bigger helping hand from foreign aid agencies, who have not only lined up their larger institutions to help around the ruins, but also in the form of smaller donations to build wells for people who are barely getting by. Throughout the trip, especially in Cambodia, there were thoughts tumbling through my head about the economic differences I was witness to and the centuries that you could freeze in your thoughts with each blink of your eye.

As the weeks have turned to days and then to hours I can't help but feel an affection for these places and cheer them on in their quest for prosperity and a better life. I have a feeling though that the Vietnamese are looking for something that may be measured with numbers and that Cambodia, with its honoured and treasured cultural assets can move forward a bit more confidently, despite its more horrific past, and achieve much more on a lifestyle level rather than merely economically. I ask myself how dare I say such things after just three weeks of glimpses, but it is merely an observation to float out there for consideration. My time here is almost over but there will be plenty of time for the experience to ferment in my thoughts and give me a chance at understanding it all or investigating it a little further.

Cheers.

The Wat

2008-12-19T05:53:00.003-07:00

Today started with a 4:30am wake-up and a pilgrimage to Angkor Wat in the cool and dark of the pre-dawn. We joined a stream of others to the banks of the moat surrounding the Wat. I had a feeling that we would come as strangers in the dark, but come away will a new familiarity by the light of day and the shared experience in the shadow of stone. It was not the case and that is in no way a denigration of the experience. It was a private moment despite the crowds around us. After we were satisified with what we saw of the break of day, we peeled off to explore the ruins and wonders of Angkor Wat.

The Wat is very much in a state of transition as natural does battle with the best minds and NGO's who have come here to stem the assault of time. The Wat, like many of the other sites in the area, is partially under a scaffold and surrounded by many of its own misplaced stones. In some cases, there is clear evidence of the effects of time on one stone as it takes its rightful place from a millenia ago but shows its separate ravages from lying on a lawn somewhere damper or at the top of a pile where it was more exposed to the elements. The stories that each striation, bit of lichen or moss, the extra erosion could tell of each stone and the efforts - good and bad - people have made over the last thousand years are breath taking. The same could be said of every inch of the region.

We definitely got our temples in today. We squeezed in breakfast around 10am and got through the rest of the day in theis heat on a pineapple and a mango. We wrapped up the day at Ta Prohm, which has also been ravaged by the jungle. At the last three temples we visited in the afternoon, trees of the jungle had extended their roots through the stone walls and split the walls and stones in dramatic fashion. In others the roots and trees had just consumed them in a gnarly gulp. In some places the roots even seemed to be wrapping its grips around the inventories of stone that people want to put back into proper order, as if to say, "Do whatever you want, I'll keep these little ones here. Best of luck."

Nadine was in her rapture at Ta Prohm, her favorite from her previous visit here. Normally quite prone to being "templed out"she could not get enough of the place. To my relief, I happened to find the echo chamber that Jack told me about before leaving. We were at the last temple of the day when I realized that I would have to get help if I were going to find it. Just when I was plotting a plan of attack to find it the next day, I'd heard a silly self-flagelattion festival from a Korean tour group and closed in on the stone room they were in. I waited for them to move on and squeezed in for my turn. No matter what sound your try to make or create there is very little acoustic response from the room. The sound is made, but it dies quickly. The strike of the chest, however, creates a resonant echo. An attendant at the temple explained that people give thanks and make a wish when strike their chest in this matter. I was relieved to find it and made note of the synchronity of the occasion. Thanks to Jack.

Angkor Wat

2008-12-18T08:00:00.002-07:00

Today has been marked by the slow, respectful pace of admiration and wonder as we have made our way from one part of the Angkor Wat complex to the next. My eyes have been met with competing beauties from the ruins, the tangle of roots reaching across the jungle floor like old hands, trees that have wound their way around one another and anything else that has stood still long enough. (This is not to give you an Oz-like nightmare - time here has plodded in centuries and the encroachment of the jungle on the ruins of the various Buddhist and Hindu ruins has taken that kind of time.)

As Nadine and I poured over a map this morning I noted a UNESCO office with a comment that compared it to sports broadcasting. Basically if you are working for UNESCO in the Angkor Wat area you, like a sports broadcaster, have to be really enjoying your job. You don't end up doing this kind of work as a waystation to bigger ambitions or because you are looking for something to fall back on.

The intricacies of the ruins, both in their original incarnation and in the form that they have been restored or preserved in has the indelible imprint of patience, commitment, love and awareness of a higher power. The effort by the people over the last millenium, despite or because of the separation in time, is humbling and deserves great reverence. The people in the area and most of the visitors here have demonstrated it.

Nadine and I still have not visited the Wat itself. We wanted to build up to it. We had a glimpse of it tonight from the vantage point we watched sunset from. Before heading there, we started out further afield, visiting an area which has some idols and figures (I'll spare you the names) carved into the rock of a riverbed. Who knows how long they will stand up to erosion. We also visited three other locations before stopping for sunset. The penultimate will require another visit. I doubt we walked a fifth of it in the 20 minutes we stopped.

Throughout the day we also had a chance to watch the lifestyles of those who live in the Wat area. People were leading subsistence lives, eking things out of the land the best way they could and living in shacks with thatch roofs. The day was a blur of kids, pedaling bikes they werer five years from sittingon and braking with their barefeet on the ground, breastfeeders, farmers, lazing water buffaloes, frantic chickens, roadside stands of gas in Sprite and Pepsi bottles, smiles, palm trees, haze and fellow tuktuks and bikes loaded with whatever could be carried to get people through the day's business or life.

Back in town we tried to get a feeling for the pulse of the place, but before we had a chance the power went out for about 90 minutes. We wandered the streets for light to read our map by and even a place with its own generator and a menu. We finally found one that served basically a Khmer hotpot. It was a feast of meat and vegetables that we made at our table. We were stunned to be asked if we needed more meat. In our experience more rice, more cabbage, more soup, more lettuce yes. MORE MEAT?! We had to gratefully decline.

Tomorrow we will head for the Wat for sunrise and more of the highlights of the complex. This is far from complete. For one thing, I got monk shots.

Ha Long Bay

2008-12-17T08:55:00.002-07:00

It might be easy to say that watching our cruise boat be hit by another vessel just as we were boarding it was an ominous sign of things to come, but by that point we had already enough indications that the trip was not what we had expected. Rather than an omen, it was more of a confirmation that, yes, we were being screwed. To cut a long story short (or try). We had paid for a higher level tour but were bumped off that boat because they had overbooked it. Our "hosts" tried to tell us that the two boats and tours were comparable but it was pretty clear that it was far from the case. Our cabin door let in more light than my sunglasses and the critters scratching around the ceiling at 4:30 am confirmed that it was not what we bargained for. If you happen to be looking for travel advise, DO NOT book your tour with Halong Phoenix Cruises. They tried to lie their way out of their misconduct at every turn. We did get a refund for the difference between the two trips, but we were left with further evidence that the Vietnamese travel industry is crowded with a few too many ne'er do wells to guarantee that your experience there would be one that would be considered pleasant or hospitable.

It may be a consequence of too many urban legends floating up and down the Mekong and other parts of the country about foreigners drifting through willïng to pay strange amounts of money to go to places that the Vietnamese take for granted. "They wanted to go where?" "They paid how much"? "These people have more money than brains."
At least that is my guess behind the thinking of some operators, and I mean real operators, who have jumped into the industry to make a quick buck. Hopefully they will disappear before they do too much further damage to the reputation of their nation's travel industry or the government will demand higher standards.

That said, we are in Cambodia now and the first few hours here have been pleasant. A great foot massage will put you in that frame of mind.