A Year in Japan
A Year in JapanNovember 2002
The first weekend of November provided a bevy of colourful festivals to witness. Friday 1st was a miserable wet day, but I made the effort in the morning to visit the shrine at Mt Tskuba to check out the `Ozagawari Festival` (the Exchange of the Gods` Seats; whatever that means). As usual, I had no real details or time for it. Coachloads of schoolchildren all dressed in purple tracksuits, walked up to the shrine and then up Mt Tskuba. Around 10am, I found the shrine empty, though many people were here to climb the mountain in dreadful rain for whatever reason. Various stalls of huge chrysanthenums had been set up and other decorative flower arrangements. A four tier wooden grandstand had been erected across from the shrine for the ceremony later in the day. Nothing seemed to be happening. A monk started to hand visitors (and me) a kilo bag of rice; which must be have been an offering from the latest harvest.
Eventually, a hundred or so, well dressed men and the occasional woman, took off their shoes and entered the shrine and sat on benches before an altar which had been set up with assorted fruit and vegetables. Two monks dressed in white gowns and pointy white hats started off the ceremony by banging on Japanese drums. For the next hour, there followed a long and rather tedious Shinto ceremony. A priest was dressed in a wonderful baggy flowing turquoise gown and a strange long black extension. It was like a giant dragonfly`s wing had been attached to the back of his hat. He acted as MC, speaking into a microphone and guiding the proceedings. Various monks dressed in red and the black extensions would amble up to the altar and clap their hands and bow. Then two women dressed in traditional billowing and spectacularly ornate kimonos appeared to do some kind of fan dance and shake a few bells. A long winded speech by the oldest monk was followed by members of the audience placing bushy bouquets of green leaves around the altar. Everything seemed to be done in slow motion. The VIPs would sit down for a lunch before the major ceremony but I couldn`t hang around that long.
During the ceremony, the mist swirled in around the shrine contributing to the atmosphere. A cute group of kindergarten kiddies appeared with their teacher to peek at the proceedings. It has to be said that tiny Japanese children all dressed immaculately in their school uniforms must be the cutiest in the world. They were very well behaved, followed every instruction given by their teacher and posed for photographs. I had to leave for my Ami teaching shift and never saw the rest of the day`s events which must have been waterlogged.
Two days later on Sunday, UK Matthew and I headed into Tokyo for the day by train. We walked west and passed the Budokan Hall. This martial arts hall was built in 1964 to host the Olympic judo events. The design with its graceful curving green roof and gold topknot stood above the leafy Kitanomaru Park. Today the huge arena is used for sports meetings, graduation ceremonies and most famously, big name rock concerts. Everyone I know has a concert recorded at this hall.
Across the road, an oversized, brown steel torei gate, claiming to be Japan`s tallest, marks the entrance to Yasukuni Jingu. This shrine, whose name means `for the repose of the country` was founded in 1869 and has been expanded to include the (cremated) 2.5 million people sacrificed in the subsequent wars. 2 million died in the Pacific War alone; the parting words of Kamikaze pilots were said to be "see you at Yasukuni". Obviously, it has to be said, their remains are not here.
Many tensions revolve around this place. In 1979, General Tojo and a number of Class A war criminals were enshrined here, to be honoured along with all the other military dead. Equally controversial are the visits made here by politicians, including Koisumi, the current Primeminister, on the anniversary of Japan`s defeat (August 15th) in World War Two. These have been seen as a serious diplomatic snub to Korea, China and all points west and south that Japan overran. For most ordinary Japanese, Yasukuni is simply a place to remember family and friends who died in the last century.
I quote from a leaflet I picked up called `The Japanese View on Ancestral Spirits`... "The religious consciousness of the Japanese is to revere the ancestral spirits such as either Kami (a deity of Shinto) or Hotoke (the soul of the deceased). There is a custom in Japan to have both Shinto and Buddhist altars in family houses. The Japanese believe that the ancestral spirits who were sublimated to Kami or Hotoke would forever stay in this land in order to watch over the life of the descendents. This is the basis for ancestral worship. This view is still reflected in a Japanese custom that puts more importance on the memorial day of ancestors rather than their birthday".
As we approached the Torei gate, there were lines of parked vehicles; our old mates, the Japanese Nazis who were playing tribute at the shrine. One of them stood to attention, dressed in a black fascist uniform, clutching a large flagpole with the old Imperial Sun flag and gave us, the only two westerners at the shrine, a steely eye as we walked past.
A small festival was underway as part of the Sichi Go San celebrations. During the year, there are a couple of days when every child who has reached 3,5 or 7 is dressed up and taken to be blessed. A few well dressed families strolled along the long avenue which was lined with cherry and gingko trees and tall stone lanterns. In tow, were their tiny 3 year old daughters in immaculate and brightly coloured kimonos. There were stalls of large chrysanthenums on show and a delightful stall of beautiful flowering bonsai trees with tiny white and yellow flowers. I had never seen miniaturised trees in bloom. A small troupe of costumned men and women sat on a stage and played drums.
The unassuming Worship Hall stood at the end of the avenue. The architecture was classic Shinto styling, solid and unadorned. We attempted to enter this Hall, removing our shoes at the entrance , but were soon politely turned back by a woman attendant because it was a `busy day`. She told us that we could come back on a sleepy midweek day, but I suspect that was the polite Japanese non confrontational strategy of saying `Not a chance mate. Now piss off`. I purchased a 2003 calender of Yasukuni with photos of War Heros and criminals which should look interesting in my parents bathroom. The old man selling them, also demonstrated the art of Origami (folding tiny scraps of paper to make tiny animals) and I got a deer, while Matthew got a pair of tiny kissing Japanese storks. I could have sat and watched him make such delightful creations for hours.
We caught a train to Yoyogi and walked to the Meiji Jinju which I had visited twice before. This shrine was packed today with Japanese families all dragging their little treasures for the Sichi Go San celebrations. The men wore their best dark suits, the mothers wore plain kimonos. The daughters were dressed in an array of painfully bright kinomos, make up and tiny flowers in their hair. Every creation which must have taken ages, and looked unique. The young boys wore cute Harama costumes; miniaturised versions of the off duty samurai warriors, that bridegrooms wear at weddings.
Various groups were also paying their respects. A band of 30 people, dressed as traditional archers with bows and arrows, could have walked off the set of a Japanese `Robin Hood` movie. They stood motionless, for long minutes, before a small side altar while a Shinto priest, dressed in white, made a blessing and waved his branch of leaves around. They all filed past me to enter the main shrine. A wedding party turned up for a ceremony soon after. A priest with comical black Mickey Mouse shoes led the bride and bridegroom (protected from the sun by a large red parasol) and 200 guests in a long line of pairs, into the main shrine. Many of the women wore kimonos. As they filed past me snapping way with my camera, some of the men smiled and bowed to me. They were obviously proud to be part of a large wedding on such an auspicious day. The whole area was awash with colour and activity. I shot 4 rolls of film just trying to capture the colours and beauty of the clothing.
We walked out of the gardens and into Harajuku to see the packed shopping areas around the pedestrian Takehita Dori Street. We purchased Garden gnomes on sale at the 3 story 100Yen shop (as you do). The young `fashion victims` were few and far between.
Photo of Fashion Victims at Harajuku
Shibuya just south of Harajuku was the equivalent of a human ants` nest which had been rudely awakened. Hundreds of thousands of people milling around the streets. Shibuya is the birthplace of a million and one consumer crazes, where teens and 20 somethings throng Centre Gai, the shopping precinct that splits the district`s rival department store groups. We had come to meet Bryan Norton, whom I had last seen about 6 months ago (see April update). He had been living in Japan for 18 years and was essentially a local businessman with his own internet services company.
At 3pm, we met Bryan outside the train station by the famous waiting spot of Hachiko the Dog. "The true story of Hachiko the Dog proves that fame in Japan comes to those that wait. Every morning, the Akita pup faithfully accompanied his master Udea Eisaburo, a professor at the Imperial University to Shibuya Station and would be back at the station in the evening to greet him."(Rough Guide). In May 1925, the professor was unavoidably detained, because he died while at work. The faithful mutt however, who obviously didn`t have a hectic social calendar or was one bone short of a butcher`s shop, continued to turn up every day at the station for... the next 9 years! Locals were so touched by the dog`s devotion that a bronze statue was cast of him. In 1935, the dog finally joined the great dog`s waiting room in the sky and was buried with his master. Awww. Today, this is the most famous rendezvous of all in Tokyo.
Photo of Area Around Shibuya Station
Photo of Famous Dog Statue
Bryan arrived with his Japanese wife and young daughter. We made brief introductions before Bryan was allowed some `free time` to go out and play with his old buddy whom he had nicknamed the `Christopher Columbus of the Modern World`. We repaired to a local Yakitori restaurant on a backstreet. It was a delightful cramped traditional Japanese joint with good food and cold ale. Over a serious amount of draft beer and assorted Yakitori (delicious skewers of grilled chicken) which Bryan ordered in his impeccable Japanese, he told us that the last 6 months, had been a nightmare. "Every company blew their budgets for the World Cup and noone has any money. The economy has gone to shit. Everyone has his pants down". Everytime he puts in a bid for a new customer, there are 40 other competitors. We discussed life in Japan and Japanese mentality. Matthew, who spent two years previously in Japan, has returned, looking to stay long term and is struggling to improve his Japanese.
Shibuya is primarily an after dark destination, when the neon signs of scores of restaurants, bars and cinemas battle it out with 5 storey tall TV screens for the attention of passers by.
By the time we left the Yakitori, it was dark. We hit a karaoke cafe on the 6th floor of a building. I always thought that Karaoke was a public humiliation, but in Japan, you rent out your own soundproofed room for some private humiliation with your friends. We chose our songs from a large thick directory of songs. There were two microphones and echo on the sound system to improve your warbling. I rather over ambitiously choose songs like Guns and Roses `Welcome To The Jungle` and Skid Row`s `Slave To The Grind` which ripped our throats out and Matthew`s `Bohemian Rapsody` was not a pretty sight. He had a voice flatter than the Australian outback. Bryan impressed us by singing a couple of Japanese songs, reading the Japanese off the screen and ordering pizzas and more beer. Hardly able to talk, we left much later, said bye bye and rolled on home back to Tsukuba; absolutely shattered by the day.
The following day was a public holiday, although we were still teaching. Shimotsuma, a town where I teach, was having it`s small local festival starting around 11am. There were the usual assorted food stalls set up and a huge `yellow dog with bone in mouth bouncy castle`. Half a dozen Japanese couples were ballroom dancing in the street. The women wore glittering lime green tops and black skirts. The men wore black tuxedos and lime green bow ties. They walzed around to piped music. It was all a bit surreal.
At the nearby park, the central action was taking place before the parade. A small stage had been set up. First on, were a tiny drumming band of 5 and 6 year olds, accompanied by a small girl on an electric organ. As they banged away, a line of unseen kids behind them, rose and dropped flags. The flags would appear out of nowhere and then drop at the planned moment. All apart from one kid who obviously forgot the cues. His/her? flag would comically appear after the others had been erected or left up when the others came down. A few seconds later, the flag would be jerked down, as if the teacher was behind the scenes trying to rescue the flag coordination, screaming `you`re doing this on purpose aren`t you Johnny?`.
Next on was a teenager with two trained monkeys which were forced to do mundane tricks while the girl barked a narration loudly at the packed seated audience. A demonstration of Iai followed. A man dressed in a traditional flowing black martial arts uniform had a four foot long curved sword (oo er) which he would expertly swing at rolled up straw mats and chop them down at various angles using the strict techniques. The last one contained a can of beer which exploded into froth when he sliced it in two.(cue crowd applause). Then a troupe of dancers dressed in kimonos and the comical masks appeared to do that jerky but hypnotic dancing I had seen at every festival. They jutted around to an elderly bunch of men who banged on drums behind them. The dancing is called Hyotoko Odori.
Gradually the park began to fill up with men dressed in ye olde military uniforms from centuries gone by; the traditional samurai warrior gear of helmets, masks, protective wooden and bamboo tops which were padded and ornately decorated, and baggy trousers held in by long boots or decorated shinpads. They held a variety of long pikes, flags and banners or wooden rifles. Various bands in similar costumes lined up, ordered around by a man in bright red samurai get up and a gruesome looking mask. The military parade was organised outside the park and then everyone marched in, followed by a dozen girls in kimonos and wide brimmed straw hats. Each girl was covered with a bright transparent silk scarf that was draped over their top halves. The effect was that of a rainbow walking on legs and very colourful. They were followed by a motley crew of small boys dressed in blue and white trainee sumurai tunics.
Photo of Sumarai Warrior in a similiar parade
Another stage had been set up in the park and they marched in with fearsome martial music blaring out of the speakers which sounded like a Japanese version of Holst`s `Mars`. It all looked and sounded wonderful. Coordinators with walkie talkies moved amongst the 200 odd particpants and told them where to sit or stand for the ceremony. An announcer, also dressed in a classic Japanese tunic barked out a ceremony in a gutteral Japanese voice. A shogun was being crowned on stage. His white uniform with golden threads glittered in the bright sunshine. A dozen local male dignitaries, dressed in black suits, were also on stage to watch the proceedings and half of them made formal speeches afterwards. About what? Vote for me? I have no idea. The gruesone red samurai warrior then barked instructions to his infantry who sat with their rifles. They stood up in threes, walked forward, applied lit fuses to their gunpowder and fired off really loud explosions that had the old women and small children holding their hands over their ears.
Eventually, the entire group exited in order and lined up on the road outside the park for the traditional parade around the streets. A small marching band of kids was added to the front, complete with a small Japanese girl dressed like a band leader to set the band`s marching pace. The Shogun was placed on a horse decorated with a traditional equine warrior uniform. At the back, a large plain wooden `dashi` (portable shrine on wheels) was added, pulled by 100 kids and their mothers and followed by another drumming band. The parade ended up on the street of foodstalls by my school. It stopped here for another volley of rifles explosions that had the Shogun`s horse turning in circles frightened by the noise and the Shogun hanging on for dear life in a most undignified way. Then they all marched on and it was all over. It was a marvellous small photogenic local festival the likes of which I had never seen in Japan. It also seemed to have involved the entire community of all ages. After this spectacle, it was a genuine shame that I had to drive back to Tsukuba to start a day`s teaching.
After a relatively smooth period at school, chaos reared it`s ugly head again. US Kip, fed up with his heavy 6 day schedule, did a runner, That same week, UK Linsay was off ill for a few days. I covered for her on my day off. Canadian Yvonne came down with the lethal dose of the mumps. Then UK James was fired. He had been having a stubborn one man battle against the school over various issues and they accused him of having a `negative attitude`. It wasn`t that. He just refused to bend and sway like the rest of us. He came over to my room with the news. He was over the moon. It meant he could relocate to Taiwan earlier and join US Forrest who was apparently having the time of his life. James concluded `I feel like I have just been released from prison early`.
I did 4 mornings at various elementary schools. At Yaita, I had one lesson to teach; to 350 kids in the gym. The entire school was there. There were formal introductions of welcome and I was given a microphone for a Q&A session. I wandered amongst the lines of seated kids picking someone with their hand up `How tall are you? How much do you weigh? Why are you such a fat bastard?` etc. Then I taught the masses. The subject was `parts of the body`. After drilling we played `Simon Says` and a mass `Head, shoulders, knees and toes` song. Apparently, word about `Mr Bob` is spreading like wildfire amongst these rural elementary schools. At Shimodate, I taught my kindergarten kids to slap their foreheads and yell `Doh` ala Homer Simpson from `The Simpsons`.
During November, I spent many mornings at the free internet cafe researching my future travel plans next year. So far I have laid the foundations for a month in South Korea, a month in eastern China and a fortnight in Taiwan. This was on top of my December roadtrip and my next vacation starting on November 19th. It was time to fly south and check out the island of >Kyushu...
On the Sunday, the day before my holiday started, I attempted to hunt down the Shimodate steam train that runs on occasional Sundays (but not occasionally today) and ended up at Mashiko, `The Pottery Town`, which lies about 90 minutes north of Tsukuba. Mashiko Yaki (pottery) is apparently `loved by many people around the world for its rustic charm and warmth` (said the tourist blurb). It was thick, plain earthenware pottery that would look good in a farmhouse. Mashiko clay is dug from the local mountains, and not from under rice paddies as with most Japanese pottery. Decorated and glazed pots are fired in a traditional Japanese climbing kiln (`noborigama`), using red pine wood for fuel. The pottery market was thick with Japanese tour groups. The most eye catching piece was the town mascot. A huge 10m clay painted cat/muskrat stood in the town square. Nothing special you say. But this one had breasts and a large willy sticking out. Something for all the family?
The peaceful picturesque rural scenery surrounding Mashiko was delightful. I drove up to a `natural park` area where the trees` leaves had turned into a crown of red, brown, orange, and yellow fall colours covering the hillsides. I came across the Saimyobi Temple in the hills. A steep climb up the front steps took me to the thatched Temple Gate (1492), an example of classical Tang Dynasty architecture from China. The Jizoin Main Hall (1520) and Emmado Temple (1714) enshrined images of the Judge of Souls (Emma Dai O) and his assistants Zen doshi (virtuous child) with its pious face and Aku doshi (evil child) with it`s, er, evil looking grin. These wooden/plaster statues looked very atmospheric as did the whole temple complex surrounded by the autumn colours. It was almost deserted and I felt like I had found a secret place in the hills.
A couple of months back, I had seen cheap flights for Kyushu; about £50 each way and managed to get the earliest flight leaving at 6.30am on Nov 19th, returning on the last flight at 20.45pm on Nov 23rd. It would give me 5 whole days there. The only problem was that the airport was not Narita but Hanneda, which is Tokyo`s small central airport. After teaching on a Monday night, I would be pushing it, to reach it by train and monorail, before the transport network shut down at midnight, . Then the school decided to slot in an extra 45 minute lesson on Monday night and I was doomed, other to than drive there.
Parking in Tokyo is prohibitedly expensive, especially at the airport, but I had previously researched a long term parking lot 7km from the airport (just in case). I didn`t need to be at the airport until 5.30am but decided to leave at 11.30pm, drive down early and sleep in the car somewhere near the parking lot. I took the Joban Expressway and connected to the Shuto Expressway which runs over Tokyo past Hanneda Airport. Tokyo looked spectacular at night. Every tall building had a series of flashing red lights around its edges to warn the low flying aircraft. It looked like a scene out of the `Bladerunner` movie. The expressways were full of chugging trucks belching out exhaust fumes and aggressive taxi drivers. Roadgangs repaired the roads while the traffic was light with red smoke flares in the road to direct the traffic, and endless little men waving neon batons..
I had a basic map to reach the carpark which involved crossing a vast bridge over a river, disappearing underneath the harbour through a long tunnel and finding a small turnoff on a complicated intersection. I missed the intersection, drove to the airport and found it, surprisingly, completely closed at 1.30am, except for some cleaners. I drove around, hopelessly lost. I couldn`t find the intersection and there was noone to ask, or at least I knew noone in a roadgang would speak English. I found a vast flower market surrounded by overnight delivery trucks, being unloaded by forklifts and pulled into a Railway Warehousing Area. It was 3am and I was starting to get tired of driving around in circles. A clerk could understand my faxed map but I was way off it. He managed to tell me that my road lay off Route 15 and drew a map to get there. `How long until the intersection?` `30 minutes` he wrote. Thankfully, I found Route 15 and set off in the right direction. But as I drove through Kawasaki and then headed towards Yokohama, I began to think, this is nowhere near the airport. 25 minutes later and then Route 15 suddenly stopped. Doh! I U turned and pulled into a police station. A policeman with basic English told me it was back in the other direction about 20 minutes away, and indicated another police station which sat at the roadjunction. `Where are you from?` he asked. `England`. `Ah, I saw Paul McCartney in concert here in Tokyo last week`. I think Japanese policemen are wonderful when you get lost. So I found the intersection and finally my parking lot which opened at 5.15am. It was 4.30am and I had been driving for 5 hours! So much for the sleep in the car.
Parking was about £30 for 5 days (it is only £12.50 at Narita). I was dropped dog tired at the small immaculate commuter airport and checked in with less than 30 minutes to departure. For some reason, there were no litter bins in the airport. They were all outside on the concourse. Check in took 2 minutes and we left on time for Fukuoka at 6.30am. The plane was empty. I slept all the way on the 1 hour 40 minute flight. It was day 250 of my stay in Japan.
Kyushu (17.5 million people) is the third largest and southernmost of the four major islands of Japan. It is also the closest to Korea and China and consequently was influenced by both these civilisations at the start of Japanese history. It is regarded as the `Cradle of Japanese civilisation` because the Yamoto tribe spread from here around the other three islands. The first European explorers, traders and missionaries to Japan also arrived via this island and its people are traditionally less xenophobic. The Rough Guide called it `a relaxed , uncomplicated place with its own distinctive character`. Kyushu is mountainous and volcanic. The mountain ranges contain many peaks over 1500m and the volcanic caldera in Aso Kuju National Park, with the active volcano Mt Nakadake, at its centre, is the largest in the world.
The small airport was in the middle of the city of Fukuoka. I had a choice; use public transport and narrow my sightseeing to the north or splash out for a car and do the whole island in 5 days. A girl at the Information desk helped to organise a car rental with Avis who picked me up and gave me a nice Suzuki 660cc automatic. At 27500 yen (£146) for 5 days (including a hefty £6.50 daily insurance), it was about UK prices. As usual, everything was paid in cash. I didn`t even have to leave a credit card. I was given a Japanese Road Atlas which would prove very useful once I could spot the tiny names in English amongst the Japanese kanji language.
Fukuoka (1.3m people) is a big semi industrial city on the northern coast of Kyushu. It apparently `combines tremendous vitality with a determination to make the rest of Japan sit up and take notice; already it claims the country`s biggest hotel, longest bar, largest cinema complex and most advanced baseball stadium` (Rough Guide). Whatever. I headed southeast towards Beppu on the slow busy local roads of rush hour traffic. It took an age to escape the place.
It was run of the mill ugly Japanese urban sprawl. Then forested hills appeared and rural scenery began to predominate. I spotted a tall statue on top of a hill and went to explore. There is nothing in the guidebooks about this. It was a 10m tall Buddha in feminine form; like a Catholic Madonna statue painted in gaudy colours. The place was full of little old Japanese lady tourists lighting candles around the various shrines. I have no idea what the place was other than a `Station on the Mountain`.
Aso Caldera
It was a slow but enjoyable `Hey, I`m in a new part of Japan, what`s the rush?` kind of journey. The sun shone through light blue skies. Then I saw a sign for Aso and decided to completely change direction and head southwest. Suddenly, the road was very empty. `Central Kyushu is dominated by sparsely populated, grassy highlands, in places rising to substantial peaks which offer some of the islands most spectacular scenery` (RG). I`ll say. It was some of the best I had seen anywhere in Japan. These mountains are relics of ancient volcanic upheavials and explosions of such incredible force they collapsed one gigantic volcano to create the world`s largest crater (not counting the one in Australia`s Northern Territory caused by a meteorite).
I followed beautiful gorges carved by rivers and topped by forests, rusting into autumn colours until I reached the formidable wall of the Aso Caldera. This ancient crater which stretches 18 km east to west and 24 km north to south and which is over 120km in circumference, was formed about 100,000 years ago when a vast volcano collapsed. As the rock cooled, a lake formed, but the eruptions continued, pushing up 5 smaller cones, today known collectively as Aso San in the crater`s centre. Eventually the lake drained and the people moved in. The 5 peaks of Aso San line up across the caldera with the two highest, Take Dake (1592m) and the distinctly craggy Neko Dake (1433m) on the eastern side. But it is Naka Dake (1323m) on the side of Take Dake which draws the crowds. It is still active; the most recent eruptions occurred in the early 1990s. Its not difficult to spot. You can see the thick plumes of white volcanic smoke rising from miles around.
To reach it, I left the town of Aso for a dramatic 30 minute drive up the mountain. It was liked driving through the Scottish highlands in summer. I spotted herds of cows and horses grazing in the hills. Unlike, say, Europe, you never see any livestock out in the open in Japan. It is a rare sight and the Japanese treat them like exotic animals and stop to gawp and take photos. En route, I also saw two other sights; the small but perfectly formed cone of Komezuka, the `hill of rice`. Legend has it that the hill was formed when the God of Aso Takeiwatatsu No Mikot made a mound of harvested rice and that the bowl shaped, dimpled indentation at the top is where the god scooped rice to provide to the poor. At this time of year, the grassy slopes were a beautiful golden colour.
But it was Naka Dake which held my breath. I walked up the final 20 minutes, too cheap to pay for the toll road, to the summit where the rising steam melted into the air. As I peered over the edge (along with a dozen other tour groups), I found the steep sided crater was awash with evil coloured rocks and at the bottom lay a grey/green lake. I stood and gasped at the turbulent, sulphurous clouds of steam billowing out of it. It was like watching the world`s largest witches` caldron you can ever imagine. It was one of the best sights that Japan has to offer.
Photo of Nake Deke
Photo of Aso Landscape
Photos of Sulphur Seller
Locals has set up stalls to sell lumps of bright fluorescent yellow sulphur which was lighter to lift than it looked. It was cold and windy at the crater edge (some ice on the rocks) and schoolgirl tourists would giggle at me in my T shirt and shorts. `Aren`t you cold?` they`d say in Japanese. I then hiked along wooden walkways across unfathomable black beaches of volcanic dust. It was a splendid afternoon and a fitting start to my explorations of Kyushu. The weather was glorious. I did not visit `Cuddly Dominion`. This is a children`s animal park where 300 bears from all over the world have been collected. Sounded like Bear `Doggy World`. At the Tourist Office, the woman asked me where I was from. England. `Ah, Paul McCartney did a concert in Tokyo last week, but I couldn`t get a ticket`. Tell me about it.
I checked into the virtually empty Youth Hostel at the base of the volcano and relaxed in my own private onsen bath with a cold beer. Well, someone had to take advantage of all the free hot water. The very elderly and wrinkly Japanese couple who ran the place spoke little English but were friendly enough. But when they ate their noodles, they could have slurped for the Japanese Olympic Slurping team. It was painfully loud and drawn out like they had badly fitted drains in their mouths. Imagine sucking in a strand of spaghetti and adding a megaphone to your throat. Then repeat sucking for about 20 minutes.
I slept like a log for 11 hours until 7am when a slow melodic version of `Edelweiss` was pumped through the hostel speakers. It was quite a nice way to be woken up. Well, better than recordings of the slurping. I headed Northeast on the famous Yamanami Highway, across the Aso San caldera and up over the Kuju Mountains to Beppu on the coast. The road breached the caldera wall at Ichinomiya, from where the classic profile of Aso San`s five peaks supposedly conjures up a sleeping Buddha with head to the east and Naka Dake`s steaming vent at his navel. Early morning, the range was shrouded in mist but still looked very beautiful. North of this, on an empty road (such bliss in Japan), the only signs of life on the wonderful rolling grasslands were the occasional cow. The grasslands had turned a golden brown; like an endless field of wheat ready to be cut. It was a carpet of gold blowing in the wind. The highway then climbed again through the Kuju Range; tall mountains of golden brown grasslands, topped by darker, brown leaved forests. I was seeing the area in its autumn glory, though it must look just as spectacular in green during the spring and summer.
Mt Kuju
Reaching a pass at 1300m, I saw a few Japanese hikers out by their cars doing stretching exercises (the Japanese believe in doing everything properly) before their ascent of Mt Kuju. At 1787m, it is the highest mountain in Kyushu. Since it was such a lovely autumn morning, I asked someone how long to the top; about 2 hours he said. Having climbed the highest mountain in Hokkaido (Asa Deke) and Honshu (Mt Fuji), I decided to bag my third trophy. A set of concrete steps took me up to a ridge where the trail turned to frozen mud. I passed the occasional hiker kitted out in traditional Japanese walking gear; boots, tartan shirt, jeans, fleece jacket, floppy hat, white gloves, lekke sticks and backpack full of emergency supplies and lunch. They looked a bit surprised when I sauntered past in T shirt, shorts and sneakers. Scrambling down a rocky ridge, I followed an undulating trail up between other mountains in the range.
Mt Kuju was not visible until I had been walking for an hour. I had smelt sulphur on the way and soon discovered the source. The side of a mountain had a dozen vents from which emanated long trails of steam hissing in the silence. A final scramble up a well marked trail took me to the summit. I appeared to be the first person up there that day, since I had passed noone coming back down. It had taken 90 minutes. The first patches of snow were forming in the hollows. From the top, I had a spectacular view over the Aso caldera and the Kuju range. The sheer scale of the caldera was mindblowing. It stretched out before me across 180`. I returned down the same route, only to find that the ice in the mud had thawed, and it had turned really slippery. It reminded me of my old cross country running days. Back at the carpark I was pleased that my ankles had survived the slippery slopes and even more pleased to see that the Japanese think of everything. There was a small waterhole with a couple of brushes so that you could scrub the mud off your boots. This was the only footwear I had on this trip and I`m sure the car rental company were eternally grateful for the cleaning. It had been a fabulous hike. I descended from the pass in the car and then climbed over another. The sunshine was out in force and the grasslands looked even more beautiful. I`d rate the Yamanami Highway as the most splendid route I`d ever taken anywhere in Japan.
Beppu
A long twisty descent took me to Beppu by the coast. Spirals of steam rose from chimneys and billowed out of the ground itself, which along with the strong smell of sulphur was a dramatic confirmation that this is one of the world`s most geothermally active regions. Over 100 million litres of near boiling water gush out of 300 springs every day to be harnessed for local swimming pools, heating and medicinal purposes or to fill dozens of private and public baths that make this one of Japan`s most popular onsen resorts. This town of only 13,000 people receives over 12 million visitors a year.
Beppu is a medium size, low rise city wrapped around an attractive, east facing bay with mountains to both south and west. It is one of only two places in Japan where it`s possible to take a genuine sand bath or `Suna yu`. I had seen Michael Palin take one here on his `Full Circle` tour and what`s good enough for Michael is good enough or me. I found the Takegawara Onsen in a grand old Meiji era wooden ediface in the backstreets of Beppu. Removing my shoes at the front door and padding over the polished floorboards, I was led to a creamy bricked room; about 25m by 10m with a tall ceiling. Opening the door, I saw four women shovelling around black sand like construction workers. I striped off in the `dry area` and was given a small towel (think flannel size) to cover my modesty. There was no point. First I rinsed off, by filling a bowl from a hot onsen and tipping it over me. Then I was led onto the hot sandpit and invited to lay down in a shallow trench. I lay down at a 20` angle with my head at the top on a small padded square and laying the flannel over my groin, two women gently piled course, black sand over my entire body leaving only my head (thank god) and toes open to the air. There were only a couple of elderly men getting the same treatment. I wonder what the women`s job description says; something like `you must be prepared to see an endless parade of old mens` willies`?
So there I was buried like a recent corpse; laying there for the recommended 10 minutes. It was a slow day and I was left baking for 15 minutes. I lay there and counted the squares in the wooden ceiling above me and felt an enormous sense of well being. Then I was ushered to `standing up!` I rinsed off the sand with more bowls of hot water and immersed myself in a piping hot onsen. It was tempting just to fall asleep and forget about the rest of the trip. A thoroughly recommended experience for about £4 and another `real` Japanese thing to do.
Photo of the Hot Sand Bath Room
Alas I had to leave, and walking back to the car glowing like the `Ready Brek` kid, I took in the futuristic Global Tower. I can only describe this as a 100m high tower comprised of two steel pipes supporting a facade and linked to the B Con Plaza, Beppu`s lavish convention centre and concert hall. Not many of these in the world. Time was getting on with only 2 hours of daylight left. I decided to head south to the large city of Oita by the coast which was clogged with traffic and then returned west back along Route 57 to Aso. Along the way, I came across the surreal sight of a statue of a 4m tall squirrel nibbling on a 4m tall peanut. Wonders never cease, Back at Aso Youth Hostel, the Japan vs Argentina soccer game on TV was enlivened by the sounds of elderly noodle slurping. I wanted to strangle them with the noodles.
Takachino Gorge
`Edelweiss` awoke me to a miserable day of rain. I drove south to Takachino. It was a lovely drive along an undulating and twisty narrow road, through forests of evergreen firs broken up by other trees in their autumn uniforms. The woodlands themselves were broken up by fields of vegetables and small farming hamlets. The road was deserted save for a few trucks carrying full loads of lumber. Mist floated around the fields as the chilly night temperatures were warmed up.
The small inland town of Takachino lay where the Gokase River had sliced a narrow channel through layers of ancient lava.I drove down into the gorge where a park had been established with beautiful autumn colours and fat carp in the ponds. The gorge was shrouded in mist but I could see the cliffs formed of columner basalt; lava that had cooled into parallel pillars of rock up to 80m high. I also visited the Takachiho Jinja (Shrine), a simple wooden building engulfed in ancient cryptomena (look it up) trees. The priest pottered around in his ornate costume supervising electricians who were wiring up lights everywhere for a forthcoming festival.
I pushed on south along twisty, mountainous roads through more forests and hamlets. Slow going. Especially when I was stopped on Route 25 by a little man waving a flag. There had been a landslide and the road was blocked. I had to retrace my route. I stuck to a main road heading west and at Yatsushiro took a wonderful road along a river valley that had been damned at various stages. It was very similar to the valleys I had explored in the Japanese Alps on Honshu. Short on time, I splashed out and took the Expressway south towards Kagoshima. It was £7 well spent to cover 100km in an hour. It stopped drizzling. I rejoined the local roads and spotted Mt Sakurajima volcano smoking in the distance.
Sakurajima Volcano
Just 4km from the major city of Kagoshima across the bay, the volcanic cone of Sakurajima grumbles away, pouring a column of dense black ash into the air. This is one of the world`s most active volcanoes. Major eruptions have been recorded from the early 8th Century until as recently as 1947, through the most violent living memory was in 1914. That year, a major eruption of lava spilled out to fill a 400m wide channel that previously separated the original volcanic island from the mainland. I drove around the northern coast with Sakurajima`s brooding presence above me to the left. The narrow road wriggled through pine trees and coves filled with fishing hamlets. Then endless grey lava fields appeared with huge and jagged masses of ugly but fascinating black rock. At the small town of Kurokami, I checked out the grey stone Toreii gate of the old shrine which is buried. Originally 3m tall, now just the top cross bars protrude from a bed of ash and pumice left by the 1914 eruption. It lay in a dingy alley next to the school.
The locals may live in mortal danger, but they certainly took advantage of the fertile soil. There were orchards of ripe orange nectarines. They also produce the world`s largest radish; up to 40kg in weight and over 1m in diameter (we`re talking monster radishes!) and its smallest mandarin measuring a mere 3cm across. Since the volcano was pretty active in the early 1990s, it is totally out of bounds. The nearest I could get to the deeply creviced summit was the Yunohira Observatory at 373m. The summit is in fact three cones, the highest of which is 1117m. Across the bay I could see the sprawling city of Kagoshima. The Visitors` centre had excellent footage of the 1990s eruptions.
Photos of Mt Sakurajima
More Photos of Mt Sakurajima
Late in the afternoon, it was tempting to hole up at the Youth Hostel nearby, but I caught the 15 minute car ferry across to Kagoshima. Wooden blocks were placed behind the wheels and you didn`t even leave the car. The third largest city of Khyshu had a population of 500,000 and everyone of the buggers seemed to be stuck in rush hour gridlock. Given an extra half day, I`d probably have checked out the few sights, but I had better places to see so I pushed on south to the hot spring resort town of Ibusuki. Not that I saw it. It was dark and I spent 45 minutes trying to track down the Youth Hostel. I gave up and at a local `Family Mart`, a girl called them and they collected me; About 2 minutes drive from the shop, it was on a tiny backstreet and there was no sign. I could have driven all night and never found it. No wonder it was deserted. It was new, spotless and like a family home. I spent the night on a futon in a room covered by tatami mats. I was about as far south as you can get in Japan (Okinawa islands excepted).
Chiran; Samurai Gardens and Kamakazi Muesum
Chiran is a small town that lies in a broad valley among the hills about 20km north, inland from Ibusuki. This place was a real gem. The Tokuguwa Shogunate (1603 to 1867) tried to rule Japan by maintaining a system of having a castle in each feudal domain with semi fortified surrounding villages (`Sotojiro` outer castles) of Samurai warrior houses. The people were therefore part of and also under protection of the main castle. Chiran was originally Tsurumaru castle (now gone), and Samurai residences were built around 1750. These lovely residences still survive down narrow alleyways off the main street behind ancient stone walls topped by neatly clipped hedges. Since many of the wooden houses are still occupied I couldn`t see inside them, but the main interest lay in their small but intricate gardens. There are seven gardens and before official opening hours, I sneaked inside each one for a quick look. Though each was different in its composition, they mostly used rock groupings and shrubs to represent a classic scene of mountains, valleys and waterfalls taken from Chinese landscape painting. Each house had defensive features such as solid, screened, wooden entry gates. Early on a sunny morning, the alleyway were almost deserted save for a local who strolled past and wished me `Ohayo Gozaimus` (good morning). The English tourist info said `The entire village, surrounded by Hahagatake Mountain constitutes a kind of garden town full of nature`. No kidding. I thought it was the most beautiful `street` I seen in Japan.
Photos of Samurai Gardens
More Photos of Samurai Gardens
A couple of kilometres away lay Chiran`s other claim to fame; the `Special Attack Peace Hall` which marks the site of a military airfield established in 1942. At first, it was a training camp, but from mid 1944, Chiran became the secret base for the `Special Attack Forces` whose mission was to crash their bomb laden planes into American ships on an `aeroplane for every battleship` military strategy. They`re better known in the west as the `Kamikaze`, in reference to the `divine wind` which saved Japan from Mongol invasions in the late 13th Century. Hundreds of young men, some mere teenagers, rallied to the call, eager to die for the Emperor in true Samurai style. Their opportunity came during the battle of Okinawa (Japan`s islands halfway between Khyshu and Taiwan) in the summer of 1945 when an estimated 1036 pilots died over a period of 49 days. On one day alone, 86 pilots divebombed to their deaths. Then they probably ran out of aeroplanes.
Before leaving, they were given a last cigarette, a drink of sake and a blessing after which they donned their `Rising Sun` headband, were waved off by the local girls and set off on the lonely, one way mission with enough fuel to last for 2 hours. Many never reached their targets, but 56 American ships were sunk, 107 crippled and 300 seriously damaged. We are used to hearing about suicide bombers nowadays, but this was the first time it had been done in modern warfare.
Article about the Kamikaze Pilots of Chiran
After the war, the Japanese pretended that it had never happened, but a `peace hall` was established in Chiran in 1975, essentially as a memorial to the pilots` undoubted courage, though the museum makes little mention of the wider context or moral argument. Or if it did, I couldn`t read it, because everything was in Japanese. That aside, the photos of all the pilots, the farewell letters, poems and often childish mascots were a sad sight. As the only westerner amongst the few Japanese tour groups, I was given a free radio transmitter which translated poems and farewell letters over terrible Liberace type soppy classical music . Some of the poems were breathtaking, scribbled just before they climbed into their planes. I was surprised to learn that a handful of Koreans and Taiwanese also volunteered and died in the campaign. There was spectacular footage shot by American sailors on battleships filming the attacks which looked horrifying. I would have cakked my pants seeing these planes just heading straight for me. Outside in the grounds stood a standard `Kamikazi` plane, a statue of a pilot and 1036 stone lanterns with a carving of a kamikaze pilot on the supporting pillar. Which was nice. It was all very moving but I was surprised as the token westerner, noone came up to talk. I guess it is just part of history now. Most of the visitors were not even born when it happened. Personally, if I was Japanese, I would choose the lovely town of Chiran to live in. Isolated in beautiful scenery but only 40 minutes from Kagoshima. The main street even had open gutters with flowing water and fat carp fish swimming about. Don`t miss it if you come to Japan.
The sun was shining. It was a beautiful morning and I took the steep scenic `Skyway` expressway over the hills, bypassing Kagoshima all the way back to Hitoyshi and repeated the wonderful river valley that I had seen yesterday. But this time in sunshine. Once I got past a couple of trucks, I had the road to myself most of the way through the valley. I returned back to the northern half of Kyushu.
Kumamoto; Suizenji Gardens and Castle
I tackled the heavy traffic into the city of Kumamoto to take in it`s two major sights. Suizenji Koen is one of Japan`s most highly rated gardens and it was a beauty. It was based around a crystal clear, spring fed lake, whose surface was broken by jumping minnows and watched by a large white heron who stood motionless on a rock eyeing it`s next meal. Plump, multicoloured carp lazed under willow pattern bridges while staff stood on tall gleaming ladders trimming the trees and bushes. Silence in the middle of a huge city.
Considered to be one of Japan`s most beautiful stroll gardens (I`d rate it second to Kenrokuen gardens in Kanasawa which I saw on the Japanese Alps roadtrip), Suizenji Koen was created over 80 years, starting in 1632. The original temple has long gone, but the immaculate, undulating lush grass landscape was dotted by artfully placed shrubs and trees and a mini grass topped hill of Mt Fuji. The garden was small but perfectly formed, taking a mere 30 minutes to stroll around. On the way, I passed the lovely Izumi shrine and a 400 year old teahouse overlooking the lake.
Completed in 1607, after only 7 years, Kumamoto Castle is Japan`s third largest and one of its most formidable. This `fearsome fairytale castle` (RG) dominates the town centre. It was designed by Kato Kiyomasa, a brilliant military architect, who combined superb fortifications with exquisitely graceful flourishes. At it`s peak, Kumamoto Ji had an outer perimeter of 13 km and over 5km of inner wall in what`s called `Musha Gaeshi` style, meaning that no invading warrior could scale the smooth, gently, concave surfaces. These defenses were severely tested during the 1877 Satsuma rebellion when the castle was besieged for 50 days. Government forces eventually relieved the garrison. Though the castle held, most of the buildings were burnt to the ground and left in ruins until 1960, when the main keep was magnificently restored. It is a beauty (even if a reconstruction) set in attractive surroundings of tall trees, stone walls and the old moat. The vast stone wall of Naga Bei (the `long wall`) was especially impressive. At 253m, it is the longest castle wall in Japan and it was overlooked by a mean looking statue of Kato. Various turrets had also been reconstructed along the castle walls.
Late in the afternoon, as I strolled around the grounds, I came across Goro`s Yoke. According to legend, a youth of Herculean strength called Yokote No Goro carried this 1800kg stone on his shoulders at the time of the castle`s construction. Also according to legend he originally got hired onto the construction crew by lifting an ox out of the way of Kato. Kato hired him as a bodyguard, unaware that he had killed Goro`s father in an earlier battle. Goro acted as a faithful employee, and bided his time until an opportunity arose to avenge his father`s death. He blew it and was caught and thrown into a pit to be buried by rocks. But every time someone threw a rock at him, he caught it in his large mits. His last words were excellent. `If you want to kill me, use gravel !`
Nagasaki; Peace Park and Atomic Bomb Museum
I was always rushed for time and with only one day left, I left Kumamoto as darkness fell and drove along local roads for a long five hours in a vast loop to the city of Nagasaki on the west coast. By the time I arrived at 10.30pm, the Youth Hostel was closed. That day, I had driven almost the entire length of Kyushu. I drove into the centre near the railway station for a mooch around and found downtown a hive of activity. Friday night revellers swarmed around the streets and aggressive taxi drivers roared in between the traffic lights and I was nearly run over by a tram. I didn`t even know Nagasaki had trams. I orientated myself for the next day, drove 10km north out of town and holed up on some wasteland for a night in the car. It was freezing. At 5am, I was forced to turn the engine on to heat myself up.
Nagasaki is gathered in the tucks and crevices of steep hills rising from a long narrow harbour. I`d describe it as a poor man`s San Francisco. It would probably have remained a pleasant, attractive city with a bustling harbour if a chance break in the clouds on August 9th, 1945 hadn’t burnt it into the world`s consciousness as the target of the second atomic bomb dropped on Japan, three days after Hiroshima. Before that day, it had an interesting history and had long flourished as a port. During the period when Japan was closed to the outside world (early 1600s until 1867), Nagasaki was virtually the only gateway open to trade. It became the entry point for western knowledge (mainly via the Dutch) and religion (Roman Catholicism). Nagasaki remains Japan`s centre of Christianity, claiming one sixth of the country`s believers. But I had come for the atomic bomb history.
When the bomb was dropped, Nagasaki had a population of 240,000. 74,000 people (including an estimated 13,000 foreigners) were blown apart in a second, 75,000 were left injured (many dying later in fires, or long term radiation sickness) and 120,000 people were left homeless. 18 towns were decimated. The Mitsubishi shipyards were the target, but the bomb was dropped above the centre of town and ironically, the shipyards survived.
My first port of call was the `Peace Park` watched over by a muscular Peace statue. The figure, with it’s right hand pointing skyward at the threat of nuclear destruction, left extended back to hold back the forces of evil, was unveiled in 1955 and resembles a seated policeman conducting traffic. The small park contained some seriously naff sculptures donated by various countries. The twin town, Minneapolis`s offering was particularly awful but the Mexican one had two black silhouettes cut out of black wood and looked very startling. Early in the morning, the occasional jogger plodded around or locals said hello to me and probably commented that I looked like I had slept in the car.
Photo of Peace Statue at Peace Park
Just down the road lay the Hypocentre Park, where an austere black pillar marked the exact spot where the bomb exploded 500m above the ground. Above the park on a hill lay the Atomic Bomb Museum. I entered via a symbolic, spiralling descent (like the Guggenheim Art Gallery in New York; but in reverse) for views of prewar Nagasaki. Then I entered past an old destroyed clock which had stopped at 11.02am when the bomb was dropped, to a darkened room full of twisted iron girders, blackened masonry and videos constantly scrolling through horrific photos of the dead or dying. It was strong stuff, but enthralling; especially the personal touches; a charred lunchbox of radiated rice, a twisted pair of glasses or the chilling shadow of a man etched on wooden planks. Glass bottles had been fused together, along with the bones of a hand.
At 8.30am the museum was virtually deserted. A teenage Japanese girl walked past choking back her tears. The museum was excellent. Not only to shock, but packed with information, much of it in English, tracing the history of atomic weapons, the effects of the bomb, the heroic attempts of ill equipped rescue teams, who had little idea of what they were facing. There was a fascinating video library of interviews with survivors. The museum then broadened out to examine the whole issue of nuclear weapons and ended with a depressing film about the arms race and test ban treaties. I spent two hours in the place examining everything on show. and was absolutely rivetted. I found it a well balanced account of the event and it certainly made you think.
Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum Homepage
I didn`t have time to visit Megane Bashi, Japan`s oldest bridge but I drove over the hill to visit the twin red brick towers of Urakami Cathedral. The present building is a postwar replica of the original completed in 1925, which was the largest Cathedral in the Orient until it was destroyed when the atomic bomb exploded only 500m away. The blast left scorch marks on the statues now preserved beside the front porch. All that remained of the congregation were a few melted rosaries.
Huis Den Bosch
After Nagasaki, I needed some light relief and drove northeast, past beautiful bays to Huis Ten Bosch. Opened in 1992 at a cost of 250 billion yen, this resort town is a meticulously engineered replica of a Dutch port caught somewhere between the 17th and 21st centuries. The overall concept and its top quality design lifted it above the ordinary. Huis Ten Bosch (meaning `House in the Forest` in Dutch) was built on an abandoned block of reclaimed land. 20 million baked clay bricks were imported from Holland and Dutch technicians came to advise. The complex is equipped with the latest technology developed specially to manage its sophisticated heating systems, wave control, desalination, water recycling and security. All the pipes, cables and wires were hidden underground. Imagine a small version of `The Truman Show` movie set in Holland.
It is divided into an exclusive residential district, Wassenaar and the public areas where there is a bewildering choice of museums, attractions, plus dozens of souvenir shops and numerous restaurants. The 105m high Utretch Tower (Domtoren) dominated the centre. This is a replica of Holland`s tallest church. I paid 3200 Yen (£16) just for an admission pass to stroll around and not bother with the kiddy orientated attractions which were a touch on the cutesy side. For example, Teddy Bear Kingdom had 250 bears collected from all over the world and 1500 `artistic bears` whatever they were. Like we need another teddybear museum. I started with the `Flower Zone` where three windmills had been built amongst fields of beautiful blooming flowers. No tulips at this time of year. Canal cruisers passed by on the canal which wound around the zones. Across the water, I could see the very European residential villas for sale at Wassenaar. Walking to the `City Zone` I wandered past quaint brick faced houses on streets refreshingly free of advertising hoardings (very unlike the rest of Japan). Classic buses and taxis pottered around the few streets picking up and dropping off tourists.
Oranjeplein` harbour area had `Kanko Maru`, a replica of Japan`s first steam/sailing ship (which did cruises around the bay) and `De Liefde` tall ship, a replica of the first Dutch ship to reach the shores of Japan in 1600 (which, er, didn`t). I passed formidable hotels like Hotel Europe and Hotel Den Haag, based on European models, with cute red costumed Santa Clauses climbing over various balconies with sacks on their backs; a nice touch. I returned back into the `City Zone` to the Prince Willem Alexanderplein with a European looking fountain and children`s entertainer (you know you`re in trouble when a place has someone making balloon toys for kids), the `Intellectual Culture Zone` called Museumstad and finally the `Play and Gourmet Zone` of Nieuwstad and Friesland. Xmas had already arrived and large plastic Christmas trees had been set up for photo opps. Bridal Salon was `where the whole city celebrates the new couples`. Pass the sick bucket. `Wellness Centre` was a dome shaped fitness centre, but I was too well to attend. I skipped the replica Palace built near the forest which is a conference centre.
The place was spotless. It looked very Dutch in a sterile Japanese replica sort of way. Swingbridges didn`t swing, water locks didn`t lock, and the cathedral tower didn`t have a bell. On a Saturday lunchtime, I was surprised at the lack of tourists. There were plenty of people there, it was just that the size of the place swallowed them up. There was `Cheese Farmhouse`. Gouda cheeses, Heineken Beer, chocolate and clogs were all on display for sale. but no raw herrings to throw down your throat.
Then again, it wasn`t quite Dutch enough. There were no posters of Johann Cruft or Dennis Bergkamp (Dutch soccer heros), and no mention of Anne Frank anywhere. Vincent van Gogh only had a swingbridge named after him, No Dutch Flemish Painters, no Amsterdam Sex Museum, noone walking around in Dutch costume. Wallace and Gromit had an entire shop (British born and bred and don`t you forget it!). The complex golf course was designed by that famous Dutch golfer, Jack Nicklaus. Not! And ye gods, the most depressing thing of all was the Cliff Richard album of Xmas songs being pumped out of loudspeakers. Cliff Richard? Maybe he has a Dutch cousin called Cliff den Richard. There was a stable with a dozen fine black stallions for children/adults to ride. A sign said `Do not talk loudly because the horses will get scared`. I figured if they could take Cliff Richard all day, they could take anything. And yet it was all very enjoyable. I was the only westerner there. My scruffy t shirt and shorts juxtaposed with the Japanese autumn fashion victims in the lovely sunshine. It was the kind of place you`d take a girl on a first date. If you both didn`t leave, appalled by the cuteness overkill and both gagging for an ice cold beer, then the relationship was doomed from the start. I left and drove straight to the airport bar!
En route, I spotted a lovely yellow sandy beach at Nuji and stopped to have a late afternoon picnic. It was the best beach I had seen in Japan. As I munched sandwiches, I saw a strange sight. A flock of (probably migrating) seabirds were swarmed like bees in the bay. They would all spread out in a long arc, dive simultaneously underwater for a few seconds and reappear, regather, spread out and repeat the dive. I watched them for 30 minutes. I had never seen anything like this.
Today, Saturday was a `Labour Thanksgiving Day`, a public holiday and 20km outside Fukuora city, the local roads were gridlocked. I had to make my plane and splashed out on the magnificent expressway that takes you into and across the city with wonderful views above the city. As dusk fell, the neon lights became a blanket of lights beneath me. I drove past `Fukuora Tower`, a state of the art glass covered skyscraper 234m high, where you could see `the stars, the sea and the city` (you could see them all from the expressway too so why bother?). Eventually dropping down to street level, I found the small airport in the centre, dropped off the car, was dropped off at the airport which was a wall of dazzling neon advertising hoards at night. I returned to Tokyo on the last flight of the day at 8.45pm. It was packed. Picked up at the airport, I was returned to `Mr Whippy` who was at there with the engine running, ready to go. I took in more of Tokyo at night and was back in Tsukuba by 1am on Sunday morning.
My overall impression of Kyushu is that it is the most scenic island I have visited in Japan. Beautiful volcanic mountains, forests, grasslands and bays. The Aso caldera has to be seen to be believed. Hot sand baths are unique to the island. With active volcanoes, a kamikaze museum, wonderful samurai houses, a fairytale castle, Nagasaki atomic bomb museum and a Dutch town, there are plenty of diverse sights and experiences and outside the cities a sleepy existence. Unmissable, but so few westerners ever make the effort to go there If you start with Kyushu, the rest of Japan may pale in comparison. It had definitely been worth renting a car to see it all..
When I awoke on Sunday morning, it was time to attempt the Tuskuba marathon. My arrival in Japan had seen a conscientious attempt to train for the event. Then the summer temperatures burnt me out, I pulled tendons in both ankles and I had only run once in the last 6 weeks. I had just spent 5 days in a car, climbed one mountain, drank a lot of beer and weighed in at 96 kilos on the scales at Aso Youth Hostel . I had last run a marathon in 1999 at Nottingham at about the same weight, but then I had been training. I didn`t stand a chance, but was resigned to giving it a go. At 24km I would run right past Grimdale. If I was flagging, I could pull in there and get someone to drive me back to my car at the University and say `Bugger that...` Aussie Keith had been training and entered the marathon but wimped out to only do the 10km. US Kip who had reappeared on the scene with a new job down the road also welshed out with a lame excuse about his running shoes having worn out and giving him shinsplints. Some people talk a good race Kip!
The Tsukuba Marathon is very popular. This year it had 7000 entrants. There was only one other westerner running it. I drove up to the University Campus at 8.30am to collect my number and electronic timing clip that you lace into your running shoes. Then I went grocery shopping and returned at 10.15 for a quick warm up and generous applications of Vaseline in important places and `Deep Heat` over my legs. I jogged to the start where the thousands of runners were backed up for half a kilometre. I went straight to the back of the field with a plan just to finish. There was a 6 hour time limit. My last one had taken 5 hours 45 mins.
A gun set us off at 10.30 and it took me 6 minutes to cross the start line. I plodded off with the slowest runners. The ankles felt fine. Everyone says marathon running is about physical stamina, but I feel mental stamina is just as important. I had entered and completed 19 marathons and knew the pain factor involved when your body is drained of energy. It wants to stop and your mind has to convince it to go on. I just switch off and keep a couple of tunes running through my head. I had drunk two litres of water before the start. It was a sunny but cold morning and the cold air went to my bladder. I had to stop 3 times in the first 10km for a pee! Doh!
We ran around the splendid University campus with its grounds of trees with their remainder of golden autumn leaves and out on a main road. The hard road surfaces soon started to take their toll on my feet, and I switched to running on the pavements which have softer tarmac. I was amazed to pass some people already walking at 10km, 70 minutes into the race. There were a lot of Japanese women running and they seemed to cope better than the men. I plodded on, stopping regularly at drink stations for `energizer orange juice` and water and just got into a rhythm. I had three things going for me. Firstly, the weather was perfect. Sunny but cold so I wouldn`t sweat myself into self destruction. Secondly, it was a very flat course with a couple of small hills, and thirdly, I drove along these roads everyday so the sights were very familiar.
Around 15km, I could feel a burning sensation in my right big toe. There were gaggles of marshals everywhere, on the course, but no sign of `first aiders`. I stopped at one group and took off my shoe. My foot was covered in blood. There was a burst blister on top of the toe. `First aid?` I yelled? `Stopping?` one asked. `No I just want a band aid`. `Bandaide?` (its an international word). They then did the very Japanese thing. Ten of them huddled up to discuss the issue. After 10 seconds, I just plodded off. I never did find a bandaide.These people seem to have no ability to make a decision without a group consensus.
As we left Tsukuba, there was a fine clear view of Mt Tsukuba and it looked wonderful. Crowds of wellwishers, many holding flags, lined the streets and yelled `Come on` in Japanese. We ran along Route 53 thorough the local farmlands and joined Route 45 to head south back towards the city. I was using three University students as pacemakers. They were having a laugh but gradually passing others. It was funny to see some runners pull up to have a cigarette on the way around. More and more people were walking. I passed the halfway point of 21km in 2 hours 30 mins which was my plan and I still felt ok. And looked better than ten Japanese runners who had quit and were all huddling under blankets trying to stay warm until a bus collected them. Buses plied the course to pick up the stragglers and injured.
After halfway, the drink stations offered bananas and I swallowed a couple. I ran past my apartment at 24km felt that I had enough to keep going. I had run this part of the course in training. It was a little undulating but nothing serious, but I was finally reduced to walking occasionally. I`d give myself 10 seconds and then start jogging for another kilometre. At 30km I had a result. The drink station had not only bananas but lumps of chocolate. I grabbed two beakers worth along with more bananas. A lifesaver. I always get hungry doing marathons. I ate fish and chips on the way around the Auckland Marathon in New Zealand!
Plodding into the city centre, a Range rover pulled up and the window lowered. It was Noboyuki, my 6 year old on Mondays who had spotted me. Good job I hadn`t taught him `Come on you fat bastard!` . A woman in the backed up traffic was watching the runners rather than the car in front and I heard a loud crunching noise. She buried her head on the steering wheel as if to say `Oh... bugger...`. 35km, I was wasted but still passing increasing numbers of people walking. It was really a case of who had enough mental stamina to convince their bodies to keep jogging rather than walk the rest of the way. 7km to go. I had gone too far to quit now. We finally entered the University grounds for a few final slopes. People passed me and I passed others. I entered the outdoor running track and managed to do the circuit without stopping and crossed the finish line in 5 hours 53 minutes! . Ok. Not great. But I had finished my 20th marathon with no training. I was over the moon and only 3 hours 35 minutes behind the winner!
Current Japanese Roadkill; 13 cats, 11 dogs, 4 birds, 2 pigeons, 2 frogs, 2 ferrets, 1 fox, 1 rabbit, 1 bird of prey, 6 UFOs (unidentified flattened object)
