Japan Cup 2010

Almost every Monday night, I meet with Hiroyuki, my drinking buddy and Japanese conversation partner. And almost every time, he tells me about his "keba," or horseracing results. He is a regular goer to the Japanese national horse track in Fuchi, near Musashisakai, and an avid gambler. He seems to win more than he loses, or at least he says he does...

Last week, when he mentioned that the Japan Cup, one of the largest horse races in the world, was happening this Sunday, I invited myself and Joan along for the ride. We arranged to meet at the south exit of the Musashisakai station at 2 pm and parted ways.

So, on a beautiful, sunny day, we met with Hiroyuki and took the Seibu train line to the Koremasa station. A short walk through a quiet neighborhood led us to an unremarkable entrance, where we bought a 200 yen ticket to get in. It all seemed rather unimpressive.

We walked down and through a long tunnel, which opened into the center field where it seemed most of the population of Tokyo was gathered, looking at betting reports and filling out betting slips. The track can hold more than 200,000 people. It seemed pretty full to us.

Hiroyuki explained to us how the process worked and showed his research into possible winning

combinations of horses. We decided to go with his plan and bet on five horses of the 18 to finish in the top five. It didn't seem to matter what position, only that they be in the top five. So, one 1,000 yen later, we had our tickets in hand.

Then it was off to fight through the crowds to viewing ring to see the horses prancing around on

parade. Everywhere there were people pouring over papers and notebooks, peering at TV monitors, and squatting down to scribble on their forms. It was chaos but very cool.

Next, we pushed deeper into the crowds to find a spot on the slope in front of the stands to watch the big race. The tension grew as past race highlights were shown on the enormous video

monitor on the other side of the track. The noise increased as the horses came out to warm up and then enter the starting gates. The crowd roared as the gates opened, and the horses surged out. At 2,400 meters, the track is quite long, and it seemed to take a long time for the pack to thunder past us.

The crowd turned its attention to the video monitor as the horses turned the corner to the far side, becoming small moving figures. As different rider jockeyed their mounts into position for the final stretch, the crowd rose back to its feet and began to roar again.

In the last, long straightaway, positions changed quickly as horses faded or were given a free rein to run. The crowd become even louder, and after the pack crossed the finish line, all the racing papers were thrown into the air.

The winner was the expected one, but the surprise was that second and third place were taken

by other Japanese horses. Of our five picks, three were in the top five. Hiroyuki seemed pleased with the outcome and indicated that we had won. How much, he wasn't sure.

After we waited for the award ceremony, we decided to head out and collect our winnings. I eagerly put my ticket in the payout machine and reached...710 yen. Yes, technically, I did "win." However, since it was less than I bet, it didn't feel to satisfying. I think I would not really make a good gambler...

However, we drowned our sorrows back in Musashisakai at the Niko Niko 250 izakaya with spicy kimchee nabe and flasks of hot sake. All in all, it was a good day.

Double party in Shinjuku Park

Today was a beautiful, sunny day, perfect for going to the park for a wedding picnic for our friend, Luke, and a birthday party for our friend, Delphine. It just so happened that they scheduled their parties for the same day, same time, and same park. And since they know each other anyways, it turned into a combined party on the grass in front of the Kyu-Goryo-Tei (Taiwan pavilion), built it 1928 as a resting house for the royal family.

Luke, an Australian, runs the non-profit, Greenz.jp, that Joan writes for here in Tokyo. Delphine, a French woman, runs a catering business and teaches French cooking; Joan met her at a Greenz event last year.

It was a lovely day with lots of interesting people and delicious food!

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..."