Aikido!

In the athletic building on campus, there is a decent gym that is free for staff and teachers to use. Being so convenient, I have been pretty good about going regularly. It is down on the basement level, and to get to it, I have to walk past the karate, boxing, kendo, and aikido training rooms.

All last year, whenever I walked past one of the aikido classes, I always said to myself that I should get up the nerve to ask the sensei (teacher) if I could join. Well, at the end of last semester, I did just that. I introduced myself and told him that I had studied aikido for a short time while in college and that I was interested in trying it again. He said that it would be fine and to come at the beginning of second semester.

So, we had our first real class last Friday. The first Friday class was just registration and an explanation about what the class would cover. I also arranged for Derek, a fellow teacher who also studies karate, to join the class, as well. Luckily, it turns out that one of our high-level students is taking the class, and he was able to translate many of the details for us.

Here is a brief explanation of aikido from Wikipedia:

Aikido is performed by blending with the motion of the attacker and redirecting the force of the attack rather than opposing it head-on. This requires very little physical strength, as the aikidōka (aikido practitioner) "leads" the attacker's momentum using entering and turning movements. The techniques are completed with various throws or joint locks.^[3] Aikido can be categorized under the general umbrella of grappling arts.

First, the sensei explained the basics of what we would be learning and how not to hurt ourselves: many of the moves involve the "attacker" ending up on the floor.

Next, after some warming up and stretching, we started with a basic move where the attack grabs your left wrist with his right hand. With a pull, push, and a twist, the end result should be the attacker smoothly rolling backwards on to the mat - emphasis on "should be."

After about an hour of this, we were quite tired and sore from rolling (falling might be more accurate) to the mat and springing back up to do it again. As a bit of a break and a demonstration, the sensei had each of us come up and "attack" him in front of the other students, allowing us to more carefully observe but also to more carefully experience what it should feel like. He is a strong and powerful man with quick but careful movements. When he demonstrated the technique on me, it was a weird feeling of being completely out of control and just along for the ride. With just a pull, push and a twist, the next thing I knew, I was gently rolling backwards on the mat. It happened about ten times in quick succession.

A little more practice and then a stretching cool down led to the end of the class. It was a really neat experience and a bit of a dream come true: to study a martial art in Japan. I am looking forward to this Friday's class.

Also, hopefully, my butt will still not be painfully sore from rolling on it countless times...

Hokkaido Revisited (Part III)...

On day 5 in the park, the weather was glorious. Gone was the gloom of rain and mist.

Full of enthusiasm, we went for a day hike back the way we had come in the rain and mist, to see what we had missed.

While the hike had been ominous and a little intimidating in the foul weather, it was a completely different experience when you could actually see. The landscape was very dramatic, with barren, windswept, volcanic plains and steep slopes of colors from the sulfur and other underground forces. We had really good time hiking for most of the day, enjoying the sunshine and views.

That afternoon, back at the hut, two men arrived, one in his 30's and the other probably in his

50's. They were settling into the hut, when there was a cell phone call and a great deal of commotion. Then the young man threw on his pack and with some terse words, was up the trail and gone. The older man seemed quite upset and shaky. We were a bit worried about him as he went inside to take a nap. Awhile later, he came out to join us to watch the sunset and enjoy the fine view.

Through is bad English and our bad Japanese, we learned that his friend's young son had gone missing down below, and that was why he had taken off in such a hurry. So, we basically ended up adopting him, as he really didn't know how to operate his stove and had no real experience with backpacking and staying at the hut. It was also great Japanese practice.

Then later, another hiker showed up with a weather report. It was supposed to rain cats and dogs the next morning and for the next two days. Joan and I looked at each other and decided that was our sign to end the trip. We did not want to be trapped in a hut by bad weather again. We asked the hiker what time the rain was supposed to start, and he said, "gozen shichiji" (7 am).

We were about three hours of hiking away from the onsen resort that was our target, so we had

dinner, packed up our gear as much as possible, and went to bed early. When the alarm went off at 3:30 am, we got up, had a quick cup of coffee, gulped down a Cliff bar, and hit the trail by four o'clock. It was one of the most beautiful sunrises I have ever seen. By 4:30, it was bright as day but windy. As we headed down the trail, we kept looking over our shoulders at the clouds that rolled in. We also worried about the older gentleman, who had said he was going get a later start and take a longer route back. He had not been comfortable going our direction - new to all of us.

Luckily, on the way down, we met a park ranger briskly hiking up the trail. He asked us about

the gentleman at the hut and said that he had been sent up to escort him down. We were quite relieved.

Just as we arrived at the onsen resort around 7:30, the heavens opened up and poured down. The ranger must have gotten caught halfway up the trail, poor bastard... It would have turned into a muddy, slick gully with all that water coming down.

At the onsen, we paid our fee and gratefully peeled out of our six-day grimed clothes. The hot, mineral water was wonderful. It was especially nice to sit in the half-sheltered outdoor pool and feel the rain and wind while warm and relaxed.

We gave Toby a call and arranged to meet him at a train station near his house. A pleasant bus

ride got us to the station, where we had time to make a cup of coffee under a bridge. Then it was back to six days of civilization.

Photo album here.

Side note: a week or so after our trip, that area of Hokkaido had a huge rain storm which flooded all the rivers. The raging waters washed away roads and bridges, basically stranding the resort and other places. They had to use helicopters to evacuate people and bring in supplies

Hokkaido Revisited (Part II)...

Well, to put it mildly, the weather sucked on our hike from Biei-Fuji hut to the Kami-horo hut. We had hoped that the weather would break for this 4.5 hour, ridge line trek, but no. It pretty much was zero visibility fog, occasional blinding rain, and always dangerously strong and gusty winds. It was quite enjoyable. Really...

So, we struggled up a seemingly endless mountain, skirted around the top, and headed south

along the ridge top. The views, as we discovered later, were stupendous. After awhile, we entered a more volcanic area, fulls of sulfurous smells and black, loose lava/rock. That's right - the kind where you slide back down half a step for every step up. It was great.

At one point, we were halfway up a slope of never-ending, sliding lava/rock. We decided to take a break and eat some food, so we found a large boulder just off the trail, where we could shelter from the driving wind and rain. As we gulped down sports drink and wolfed some trail mix, we heard the jingle of a hiker's bear bell. Everyone wears bear bells in Japan - even hiking in the suburban foothills of Tokyo. Out of the mist came a day hiker, who we startled when we greeted him from the fog. He kept on chugging up and past us. A few minutes later, he came back down the path and handed us two little jello-like snacks, an "omiyage" (souvenir) he said. Then he turned around disappeared up into the fog. We love Japan.

After a few more hours of basically blind hiking, following the yellow paint marker splotches on rocks and footprints, we made it to the top of Tokachi-dake (mountain). "Yep, that's nice. Can't see a thing. Let's go," was our response.

Now, a faded yellow rope strung between thin, iron stakes led us down to the Kami-horo hut. It was quite welcome to see it looming out of the fog. We settled in with some other damp hikers and brewed up an even more welcome cup of coffee.

Joan struck up a quick friendship with our neighbor, Aiko, who was hiking solo. She shared some

of her food with us and peppered us with questions. Quite a character, she was. Every time she saw some of our high-tech camping gear, she loudly told the other hikers about it and told them to come look at it. Later, at about one in the morning, when she came back inside from a bathroom break, she loudly (and I mean LOUDLY) announced to the room that the stars were out and that we should all get up and go look. No one did.

The next day was foggy in the morning, and we just moped around. By lunch time, the sun finally

broke through and revealed that we were in one of the most beautiful places in the world! And it gave us a chance to hang up and dry our and the musty blankets in the hut. We spent pretty much the whole day just hanging out and taking little walks in different directions, exploring the immediate area.

We ate our dinner outside, for once, walking the distant mountain tops in the sea of clouds below.

To be continued...

Photos here.

Izakaya language school update

I went back to the izakaya (bar) last night after a few weeks off due to traveling. I had stopped by the week before, but Hiroyuki (my mentor, as I like to call him) had not been there. So, I only stayed for awhile and drank a beer, mostly listening to the conversations flowing around me.

I called Hiroyuki yesterday to see if he would be there, and he told me to meet him around 7 pm. After swimming at the Mitaka pool from five to six o'clock (a pleasant break from Tokyo's heat), we biked home and had a quick dinner.

When I got to the bar, I couldn't tell if Hiroyuki was inside; the glass on the door is hard to see through. However, I could see the "grumpy guy," the man I had a bad experience with last month, and it looked like the only open seat was next to him! Ahhh!

So, I waffled and hovered outside the bar, unsure of what to do. I berated myself for being such a wuss and that I should just suck it up and go on in. Yet, the grumpy guy experience had really bothered me, and I was really nervous about having to sit next to him. I considered finding a pay phone to call Hiroyuki to find out if he was actually in the bar.

Finally, I got up enough courage to peer closely through the glass, and I saw Hiroyuki in the corner, with an empty seat on the other side of him. Relieved, I opened the door and slipped in. Tabo, the owner, greeted me, as well as many of the other locals.

It was a nice hour and an half of biru, yakiniku (grilled garlic), and nihongo. We caught up with each other's lives and hopefully made plans to go to the Tokyo horse racing track. Hiroyuki is an avid horse race gambler and, according to him, is quite successful.

The nicest part of the night came when Hiroyuki and I left. After we stood up and paid our bill, we shuffled past the other chairs in the small space. Everyone said, "Mata ne" (see you next time), INCLUDING the grumpy guy who turned in his chair to face me, smiled, and said, "Oyasumi nasai" (good night). I guess it's true in Japan: whatever happens while drunk is forgotten/forgiven...

You may have already seen this photo; I took it back in May. However, it does capture the size

and atmosphere of the izakaya quite well.

Japan versus Kazakhstan

(Just a random blog post based on thoughts while walking back from train station)

I went to the train station today to buy tickets to Echigoyuzawa, where our rice farmer friends, Kevin and Tomoe, live. I had looked up the information on the Internet and had all the information about which train, times and costs. Every time I go to do something like this, I feel sick to my stomach...

In Kazakhstan, buying train tickets was a nightmare. You almost always had to take a a local friend to help you understand the intelligible Russian of the station attendant shouted through the thick glass of her booth. You never knew if there would be tickets available or what the cost would be. And if there were no tickets, you never knew why or when the next train would come. The prospect of having to go to the train station would make us nauseous...

After awhile, we learned to bribe a local friend with dinner if she would go to the station without us and buy the tickets. It was just easier without two foreigners hovering around in the background, and the cost was usually lower.

Then, there was the actual train journey. Once on the train, you never knew if the conductor had sold your seat to a passenger that had gotten on earlier without a ticket. Sometimes you would have to share the bench/bed in the compartment. Worse case, you had to stand in corridor until a spot opened up, often for hours on end. And the trip to the capital, our most common train trip, was 26 hours. Oh, the nostalgic memories...

I love Japan. I told the conductor where and when I wanted to go. He checked his computer, swiped my credit card, and handed me the tickets. No hassle, no fuss, no bribes... nothing.

People ask us, "So, how's Japan? Having any culture shock? What about Japan is driving you crazy?"

I say, "We lived in Kazakhstan. It was hard there. This is Japan: EVERYTHING works, and everyone is polite. There's nothing really to complain about here..."

Hokkaido Revisited...

Before they fade away into distant memories and the new adventure begins (bike touring in the Japan Alps in Nigata prefecture), I'm forcing myself to sit down at the computer and start working on this blog post.

As you probably remember from last year, we went up to the city of Asahikawa in eastern Hokkaido to visit Ryan, one of couchsurfing guests turned friend. Of the 18 days, eight were spent in the northern part of Daisetsuan national park; the rest were spent exploring Asahikawa and on train trip to Abashiri on the northeast side of the island.

During our first visit, we helped for a day and half on a (rice) straw-bale house project, hosted by Toby and Maiko. You can read more about it here on Joan's blog. Well, we had always wanted to see how the house would turn out, and Joan had kept in regular contact with Toby, so we finagled ourselves an invitation to come and stay with them in the finished project, and they had two cats!

Due to time constraints, we flew this time, and boy, were our arms tired! Sorry... Toby picked us

up at the airport and continued throughout the visit to be a superlative host. After few days of hanging out with them, helping them plan their yard/garden, and visiting their small town of Higashikawa, Toby took us to the southern part of the park and dropped us one early foot at the foot of a long, steep trail.

Ryan had recommended that we try the southern portion of the park, a little

smaller and narrower, but with very dramatic scenery. Another difference is that the three mountain huts are located so that you can explore the park and not need a tent, cutting down on pack weight. We planned on anywhere from five to seven days, depending on weather and other factors. Oh, the weather... But let's not go there yet.

On the five-hour hike up to the first hut, we randomly ran into Yuka, a friend of Ryan's we had met last year, coming down the trail with a friend. It is a brief but nice reunion on the mountain

side.

Pushing farther, we made it to the hut by late afternoon and settled down in the Biei-Fuji hut.It turned out that the seasonal water supply had dried up, so we had to hike an additional 30 minutes to a small snow field/glacier to filter water for drinking and cooking.

As the clouds rolled in on the end of a sunny day, we had a beautiful sunset, the last we would see

of the sun for two and a half days...

The next morning, we woke to dense fog, the 20-foot visibility kind of fog. After some debating,

we decided to pack up and try for the next hut, four and half hours away. After hiking to the water suppy, we met some backpackers coming the other way. They warned us that the fog was really thick and the winds ahead on the narrow ridges were quite dangerous. Also, really bad weather was coming with heavy rains, probably by afternoon. After more debating, we decided to not risk it; we were also not in a hurry to get the other hut. It had just seemed something to do compared to sitting in the hut in the fog.

We followed the hikers back to the hut and set up camp again, cooking lunch, reading the one

book we had, and gazing out the doorway into the fog. That evening, the rain started. We probably could have made it to the other hut, but..."仕様がない!" ([shyoganai]"What can you do?" in Japanese).

And it rained like crazy! Then it turned into a thunderstorm that shook the mountains. The narrow, rutted trail ran in front of the hut, and the water turned it into a raging mini-river. It just rained and rained and rained.

The next morning, we again woke to dense fog, but the rain started to slacken. We couldn't take another day sitting in the hut and so decided to go for it. So we packed up, shouldered our bags, and headed out into the fog...

Photo album here.

(to be continued...)

Hot time in the garden!

We are home for a few days before taking off on another adventure (probably bike touring in the mountains in Nigata on the west side of Japan). Joan has a million and one things she wants to do, and one of them was a compost bin at her garden. According to the farmers, the soil there needs regular additions of different things: chicken dung, cow manure, and store-bought compost. Store-bought compost!? So, of course, with their permission, we built a chicken-wire compost bin...

Yesterday, we rode to J-Mart, the big home and garden store south of us, to load up on chicken wire and other garden sundries.

Today, after a late start (just to let it get nice and hot), we headed out to the garden. We quickly

staked the chicken wire into shape using large green poles the farmers usually stake their beans, tomatoes, and eggplant.

Joan started a new lasagna garden bed and generally cleaned up and puttered about, filling

her new compost bin quite quickly.

I went over to the blueberry bushes to collect that last of a very bountiful harvest. The farmers have about 20 or so very productive blueberry bushes, but they don't want to harvest them: I guess the labor compared to the profit turned out to not be worth it. So, just like last year, they told us to have at them! And have at them, we have...

I am not sure how much we have harvested in total, but Joan made about 14 jars of jam, and we have eaten a lot with breakfast cereal.

Also, they are finished harvesting mini-tomatoes; the plants are not producing enough consistently and rain has split the skin of many of them, even though they are still edible. The Japanese grocery store shopper is very picky, and the fruit must be visually perfect. However,

there are literally 1000's of tomatoes still on the plant that are good to eat. With Takashi's urging, I harvested a boatload today; we will make sauce with them when we get back and freeze it for winter soups and curries.

And did I mention it was hot today? It wasn't too bad around 10 when we started, but by noon, it was almost 90 degrees, and with the heat index, it was well over 100.