Taipei 101 — the Building

Let’s go to Taipei.  Which is actually pronounced Tie-bay.  “P” makes a “B” sound over here.

Power station with typical Asian beautificaton

Brian borrowed a car from a friend and we headed for Taipei with plans to see the 101 building and the Palace Museum.   Getting into Taipei itself was no problem.  Parking in Taipei is another story.  The funny thing is, we hadn’t driven around for very long when we saw a parking garage that just happened to be only a couple of block from the subway station!  So, car safely parked we headed for the underground.

Just some scenery along the way

The Taipei subway system is fast, efficient and easy to understand.  Having used Japan’s train system, I found that I could easily navigate Taipei’s, even if Brian hadn’t been with me.  But he was so it was a no-brainer.   To use the system you look at a map on the wall, locate the station you are in, which is marked in yellow, look for the station you wish to go to and put the amount of money that is shown above that station into the ticket machine.   The machine drops an electronically coded token into a dish, along with any change you might be owed and you are off and running.

To enter the station proper, where the train platforms are, you pass the token over a reader located in the gate to the platform.  Once inside you board your train and make any changes to other trains at other stations that are necessary to reach your destination.  All the lines are color-coded, so knowing which train is which is easy.  And each line is named for the last station on that line.  Double easy.  Once you reach you destination, you put your token into a slot on the gate and the gate opens to let you out, then keeps the token to be reprogrammed for the next user.

Following those steps we quickly arrived at the station nearest to the 101 building.  From there we took a cab to the 101 as it was past lunch time and we were so hungry we didn’t want to take the time to walk.  The food court was partially under construction (it was due to be completed the next week, wouldn’t you know it?) so our choices were half of what they normally would have been.  But the food we chose was very good so we were both happy.

101 building

After eating we visited the international food store in the building.  I was interesting to see foods from so many countries in one spot.  What made this store different from most other stores selling international foods was that these were all high-end (or at least high priced!).  They were the foods that are the most popular in the countries they came from.  We each picked out a couple of little goodies then we headed for the top of the 101.  Which isn’t really the top.  It’s just an observation platform on the 89th floor.  Since there really are 101 floors, it obviously wasn’t the actual top.

Real top of the 101

We took an elevator to the 5th floor (Bvlgari, Dior, Prada, Vuitton, etc.) where the tickets to the observation deck are sold.  After which we queued up with everyone else for the high-speed elevator.  In short order we were in the car and zipping to the top.  That thing really moves.  I had to get my ears to “pop” 5 times in the space of less than a minute, then we were out of the elevator and being fitted for the correct language for our individual devices that would tell us all about the tower and what we were seeing from each window.  Along with a lot of hype about what a great and dynamic city Taipei is as well as a sales pitch for the goodies in the gift shop as the information on the recorded messages led us past it.

interesting building

One of many great views from the tower

As we neared the end of the tour there were a number of counters selling jewelry made with “Taiwan” red coral.  The we went up a flight of stairs to see the outdoor observation deck and, after that, down two flights for a good view of the device that keeps the tower from swaying too much when the breezes get a mite brisk…like say, during a typhoon.

Wind dampening device

Then we went back inside planning to head for the elevator down, but there were all these wonderful displays of intricately carved sculptures made from coral, rainbow jade and rainbow fluorite.  Each item was more beautiful than the last.  Then there were more counters selling even more coral jewelry in higher price ranges.  Then more sculpture, then more jewelry, you get the picture I’m sure.  But then Brian looked at the time and we realized that if we were going to see any of the Palace Museum we would need to hustle.

However, we didn’t hustle enough.  We walked straight to the train, then took a taxi to the museum to save time but arrived only 40 minutes before the museum was scheduled to close.  Since there is a decent charge to enter the museum, we decided to not go in.  We were so disappointed.  Somehow Brian had thought that the museum would be open until at least 7:30 and probably 8 PM.  Had we realized how early it closed, we would have gone there first, then gone to the 101 building afterward as it stays open quite late. Pooh!

Palace Museum exterior

So we made our way back to the car, and after getting lost in the city for about 45 minutes trying to find the freeway, we finally headed out of town and on to Yalin where we planned to spend the night in preparation for visiting the Toroko gorge the next day.

Binglong Time, Hasn’t It?

This gallery contains 5 photos.

Betel nut (or binglong) is a common stimulant used here. I hear that it’s sort of a cross between caffeine and nicotine.   (Although I’m also told that users under its influence seem a little wired, very happy and maybe a … Continue reading →

They Call Me the Wanderer, yeah the Wanderer…..

Since it seems that Taiwan isn’t all that large and I will be hitting most of the high points in the next week, I thought I would add a little side trip…..to Beijing!

Yes, I know I can’t possibly cover an entire country in just a little more than two weeks, but it’s so close!!   I just thought, “how many chances am I going to get to see the Great Wall, the Palace Museum and the Forbidden City?”

So the flight and hotel are booked for about 1/2 of what just the flight would have cost me in the U.S. had I added it to my itinerary when I booked my original ticket.   Don’t ask me why.  I can’t think of a single good answer.   It’s just a lot cheaper if you book it from here (keep in mind, I’m flying out of the same airport I would have used if I had booked this trip as part of my original ticket) than if you book it from the U.S.  And it’s less than two weeks until I travel, so this is a short-notice type fare.

Yes, I’m nervous.  Flying alone into a foreign country that can be repressive (OK, usually is) is definitely a new thing for me!  I’m really looking forward to it already though.

From Lukang to ChangHua and BaGwa (Shan) again

Skipping forward a few days on this trip.  I’ll have to catch up the back posts later.  I’m getting a bit behind myself.

Today, being Saturday, Brian (the oldest of my younger brothers) and I decided to stay near home.  It seems that weekends are no time to go anyplace popular, or to any large city like Taipei.  Apparently everyone in Taiwan goes sight-seeing to various points of interest on the weekend.  Thus the roads and all points of interest are clogged with people, making it hard to do anything.

The first place we went was Lukang.  Located in Lukang is the oldest temple in Taiwan.  Lukang is also known as “the city of temples” for the obvious reason that there are more temples here than anywhere else in Taiwan.

As we drove into the city, Brian spotted a colorful dragon peeking over the rooftops and pulled over to let me get out and snap a photo.  The dragon turned out to be part of a small shrine or temple tucked behind the storefronts.   The dragon and the building that it topped were so colorful they reminded me of an ice cream stand one might find near the beach.  That structure was surrounded by a small moat with an arched bridge connecting it to the rest of the temple.  Two young boys, about 8-10 years of age were burning piles of books or paper tracts of some kind that had apparently passed their “sell by” date in an iron furnace attached to the main temple.   A woman stood behind a near-by counter selling the current version of the same item plus various prayer “scrolls” and charms for luck, wisdom, health, etc.

In the US, leaving two young boys as young as those I observed doing the burning alone to play with that much fire just wouldn’t be done, but hey, this isn’t America.  And children here are not wrapped up in safety packaging and protected not only from themselves but from everything else as well.  Parents don’t seem to fear every possible problem or injury that could befall their children.  It’s not that they don’t care about their kids, in fact they seem to dote on them.  They just have a different view of the world.  Something that would amaze the average American, but which is commonplace here is taking one’s children everywhere on the family scooter.  Often riding 4 to a scooter with adult, child, adult, child all sandwiched together on the seat zipping down the street oblivious to the cars, bikes, scooters and trucks darting around them in some sort of intricate ballet.

Oh yes, I had heard that traffic signs and lights here were merely suggestions, but today I observed it first-hand.  If the light is red and you’re waiting to make a left turn and no one is on the cross street, well, hey, isn’t that the perfect time to make your turn, instead of waiting for a break in oncoming traffic when your light is green?  And if you need to pass a slower vehicle and there is a clear space on the other side of the road, isn’t that the perfect place to do so?  And trust me, that clear space needn’t be all that large.

We eventually came to the area of the ancient temple and were lucky enough to find a parking lot with empty spaces for only $100 N.T.   That is 100 new Taiwan dollars; roughly the equivalent of $3.30 American.  A steal considering the lack of parking in the area.  At first we weren’t sure where we should pay the fee, but as Brian started to back the car into a space a woman came running out of somewhere to collect the money and put a slip under the wiper blade showing that we had paid.

This woman was so covered up that virtually all I could see of her were her eyes.  She had a large hat to shade her face, a scarf that covered her mouth and nose, a long-sleeved blouse into which the scarf was tucked, gloves, long pants and socks and shoes.  Brian explained to me that here the people value pale skin.  Skin that has apparently never seen the sun.  They think the American obsession with tanning is just plain weird.  To the Taiwanese pale, untanned skin is the sign of someone with a higher education and job.  Someone who has never had to labor in the fields under a hot sun.   So no matter how hot and humid the day, when they go out in the sun they are covered head to toe.  They even have a sort of mitten than covers the hand grips and throttle and brakes on their scooter to keep their hands shielded from the sun while riding it.

But I think I was supposed to be going to the ancient temple.

From the parking lot we walked up a long shady street that was lined on both sides with shops selling various goods.  Along the edge of the sidewalk nearest the street there were more vendors selling goods from small carts and tables.  The majority of the people simply walked in the street.  And the street was crowded with people.  But the street was NOT closed to traffic, so from time-to-time a scooter or (less often) a car would attempt to make its way slowly (very, very slowly) through all those bodies, down the street, without actually running anyone over.  Personally, I would have taken a different route!

Eventually we made it to the temple and it was quite an involved affair.   Temples here are by their very nature involved affairs.  Every possible surface is covered with carvings, paintings, sculptured pieces, etc. etc.  More detail than the eye can take in. A whirling cacophony of color and texture over-laid with the smoke and smell of the hundreds of sticks of incense that are burned every day.  With this temple there was first the main building, then on either side a small alleyway leading to a courtyard with another building behind that.

oldest temple in Taiwan

mini shrine “apartment buildings”

The rear building was a two-story affair with staircases on either side sporting dragons intricately carved into the stone panels under the hand rails.  Upstairs were “Buddha mountains”, miniature apartment buildings (for lack of a better term) with hundreds of tiny glass-fronted rooms, each with a tiny Buddha and a light bulb inside, stacked one on top of the other in round or rectangular clusters, floor to ceiling.  On the front of most of the “rooms” were the names of temple patrons, for whom one of these tiny shrines had been dedicated in order to honor their support of the temple.   In other rooms were larger and more ornate cubicles, perhaps for patrons who had donated substantially more?   It’s hard to say, as all around there were people in various poses of prayer or meditation and others awaiting their turn to pray in front of one of these mini-shrines.   So these might have been dedicated to deceased ancestors.  Since I can’t translate any Chinese I’m just guessing here.

From there we continued on down the street to an old alley that was famed for the buildings along it that were original construction from 300 years ago that had been maintained in their original condition (except for the addition of electricity and running water).  The homes had exterior brick walls and access to the courtyards within was made via a small wooden gate in the wall.  The home then sat behind the miniature garden.   These were the homes of the well-to-do of their time, protected oases where they could be sheltered from the harsher world outside.   All the other buildings lining the alley shoulder to shoulder were businesses selling all sorts of goods from tourist schlock to finely carved wooden products, clothing and hand-painted fans and lanterns.  One store contained intricately detailed miniature furniture similar to what one might find in a little girl’s doll house, but far nicer and more expensive.   All of the doors and drawers on each piece had tiny metal pulls and handles and each opened and closed.  The price for a small wardrobe-style chest with two latticed cabinet doors on top and four tiny drawers, two on each side, on the bottom was about $50 US.  Far less than I would expect to find a similar piece in the states.

One of the more famous homes on this alley is the home of the half well.  It’s fame comes from the well built for the use of the homes inhabitants.  The well was built into the wall with half of the well inside the courtyard and half projecting through the wall so that the poor or thirsty could have ready access to fresh water.   The Wang family (who owned the home) were apparently known for the “virtue of generosity” among their neighbors.

Wang home – 300 yr old well and wall

Wang home viewed through gate

The alleys in this section of town are very narrow.  Some of them so narrow that the alleys are barely three feet wide.  Making it difficult to pass through these alleys by any manner aside from on foot.

narrow alley

Giant Buddha

From there we went to BaGwa Shan at ChangHua.  BaGwa Shan is the name of the mountain that is the home to a giant statue of the Buddha in the town of ChangHua.   This statue is four stories tall and hollow inside so that a visitor can climb through levels showing large dioramas of the life of Buddha.   They are all very stylized and full of magical beings and references to Buddha’s god-status. Even though he himself didn’t like the title being applied to him and constantly denied any such claim, his followers apparently aren’t having any of that.  So he is tempted by demons and spoken to and fed by magical animals (who then commit suicide so that they can be reincarnated as human beings of the most enlightened type).

The grounds are lovely and covered with all kinds of statuary.  Somewhere there was some flower in bloom that sent the most wonderful scent wafting on the breeze if you were lucky enough to be standing in the right spot.  I never could locate the source.  From the hilltop where the Buddha sits you can look out across the city until everything disappears into the mist. (Taiwan is very humid.  The sky is almost always white with all the moisture in the air.  It limits visibility because of its high level.)

beautiful roof in the city skyline

After we left ChangHua we returned home, stopping for a late lunch/early dinner at a local grocery/department store.  I had a meal of a small salmon steak, a good-sized piece of chicken than had  a spicy “crust”, possibly some light batter than was applied before it was fried, rice, bean sprouts, soup and tea for a little less than $3.50 US.   It was really quite good.  Food here is fairly inexpensive, very inexpensive compared to the prices I was paying in Japan.

Then we came back to Brian’s apartment for the night.

Enoshima Island and Sagami Bay (or, this Itch is a Beach)

Here I am on this great big island and I had yet to see any of the ocean since the plane that brought me here landed. Yesterday, I decided that I really needed my salt-water fix. So I took a look at my computer for things to see and do at the nearest beach. Turns out the nearest beach is along Sagami Bay. My original destination was a shrine a little farther north on the bay. But while I was re-checking the instructions on how to get there, I found a reference to caves on Enoshima Island.

That led to a search about the island and a revision of my original plan. It was also a shorter (and cheaper!) train ride than my first destination. Too many pluses to ignore.

Within the hour I was at Isehara station, boarding my train bound for Sagami-Ono where I would change for Enoshima.   In a little more than an hour, I was literally at the end of the line and heading for the island.  There is a causeway that connects the island to the mainland, so getting there is easy.  First I took a look at the beach on the shore side, which appears to be a black sand beach, but decided to veggie out on the beach after visiting the island.

As I was walking across the causeway, I saw a sign listing some of the birds to be found on the island.  While I couldn’t make out all of the varieties listed, I did make out “Peregrine Falcon” quite easily.   As soon as I neared the island proper, I could hear the falcon’s eerie, other-worldly cries ringing from the sky.  The only cry I heard almost as often was that of the ever-present crows that seem to exist almost everywhere.   The falcons were constantly wheeling in and out of view as they performed their aerial  peregrinations (tee hee).

Main “street” on Enoshima Is.

I made my way up the main “street” (really a wide, brick path traversed only by feet and the occasional scooter), with side-trips into some of the souvenir shops that lined the lane.    At the head of that path was a large shrine accessible by either stairs or a pay-as-you-go escalator.  I chose the stairs (forgive me knees) of which there were many, many more than there had originally appeared to be.  Which seems to be a theme of travel in Japan.   Above that shrine, there was another, plus additional stones and memorial bits and pieces scattered about the island.   There was also a fence alongside one of the paths.  Hooked into the fence were dozens of padlocks.  I don’t know the meaning of leaving them there.  Many were inscribed with names and dates.

this fence is all locked up.

and another one

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Sunday we had planned to go to Yokohama, but a small thing called a typhoon got in our way.  It’s not that it was all that bad in the section of the country that I’m in, it’s just that we would have been driving back after dark just when the wind and rain were at their worst.   Since the roads here tend to be very narrow and winding, I couldn’t blame Natsuo for not wanting to be driving during the worst of the storm.

So instead we did something far more sensible.  Natsuo made an appointment for me at a near-by massage place.  Three days ago I had picked up Hidemi wrong and thrown out by back.  Since then the muscles in my lower back had been in constant spasm and I was really (really, really, really) getting tired of the unending pain.  Muscle relaxers were only going so far and it was refusing to quit, no matter what I did.

When the time came for my appointment, we drove over to the massage center and Natsuo translated for the massage therapist and me.  I wasn’t expecting a miracle, just a chance for a temporary cease to the pain and maybe a gradual lessening until it went away.  What I got was much different.

Let me say right here that Japanese-style massage is very different than what I am used to in the US.  Much gentler and more similar to accupressure with some massage thrown in.  Also, it is done fully clothed with all the massage tables and therapists in one room.  First they ask where your problem areas are, then you lay down on the table, they put a towel over you and go to work.   The guy working on me really knew his stuff.  He immediately started putting pressure on areas I hadn’t even realized were sore.

By the time he was done, an hour later, the spasms had completely stopped.   Not to jinx things or anything, but they haven’t come back either.  I’m very happy.

I wonder if my massage therapist back in St. Louis would consider learning Japanese-style massage?

Small Japanese Oddities

Just a small note on a few of the things Japanese that are very unusual to someone who has spent almost all of her life in the U.S.

One of the first things that struck me was how much of Japan is rural. I have seen plenty of pictures of Tokyo and the high-speed trains, etc. but nothing on how much land isn’t covered with houses and roads. There really is quite a lot of it that is still rural.  In fact, it seems like most of it.  Of course, a lot of that land is vertical mountains.   Nobody but a mountain goat could live on some of those places.

Number two is the miniature farms.  Apparently a lot of older people who are retired, if they have any land around their home at all, start small “farms”.  They grow a few vegetables, maybe plant some fruit trees.  Anything beyond what they use for their own needs they sell for supplemental income.   There are small fruit orchards (10 to 20 trees) tucked in all over the place.   The trees are trimmed to stand no more than about 8 to 10 feet tall and are surrounded by screen fences that cover both the sides and the tops to exclude hungry birds.  It’s more or less a screen “tent” that covers the entire orchard all the way to the ground.

Three will be the manhole covers.  I’ve only seen a couple of purely utilitarian covers.  The rest are very ornate and scenic.  Most are painted in colors as well.

Four are the protective covers for cars over parking spaces in private homes.  They have posts on only one side and are arched over the car to keep off rain or hail.   They are so common sense I don’t know why I haven’t see them in the US.  I plan to have something similar built for my car when I return to the states.  Since I park my RV next to my car, having posts all the way around (like on a traditional carport) would be a problem, making it hard to maneuver the RV.

Shall I make number five the well-known Japanese penchant for politeness?  That is an oddity primarily because of the death of courtesy in the US and many other countries.  Common courtesy is not only no longer common, in most places it seems to be non-existent.  I’m not suggesting that we all start bowing to each other, but a little kindness would really be nice.  The “me first, my way or the highway (and yes, I do own the whole darn highway!)” attitude that has become ubiquitous could use an upgrade.  I have yet to observe one instance of public anger, rudeness or blocking others in traffic to keep them from turning or merging.    Somehow they manage to treat everyone as if they were either equal or better without diminishing their own self-worth.  How refreshing!

OK, I covered the toilets in another post.  But we’ll make it number six for those who may not have read the Fuji post.   Almost all the public toilets I have run across are also bidets.  In addition to that, they have a button you can push that makes a flushing noise to cover any sounds emanating from one’s body that might cause embarrassment (the one at Mt. Fuji had the continuous sound of a babbling  brook).   Toilets at higher elevations (where the temperature drops below freezing) have heated seats.  Toasty.  Oh, and the biggie, I have yet to see a toilet that hasn’t been flushed or a seat that was peed on and left for the next user to clean up.  It just isn’t done.  Isn’t that nice?

Here’s seven.  I like this one.   You don’t tip in Japan.  People are paid an acceptable wage.  They agreed to work for that wage.  They don’t expect every member of the public they come into contact with to supplement their income in the form of tips.   I don’t understand why US companies can’t pay a living wage to their employees instead of passing on the burden of payroll to the public in the form of a hidden fee called tipping.  Oh wait, I do understand.  It’s called corporate greed and it’s epidemic.  Even the CEO of a failing company NEEDS that yearly multimillion dollar bonus, right?   I recall a song with a line about “if the way that you need is too much like greed, decide, if you’re rich or you’re poor” or something like that. (Soapbox:  I’m sorry, I have a hard time feeling sorry for someone who’s having a hard time affording that forth vacation home.  If it’s that bad for you, I suggest suicide…off soapbox).   It’s gotten so bad in the US that almost every person who deals with the public in any fashion now has a tip jar.   Restaurants, you started it, stop it.  Pay your employees a living wage and stop expecting your customers to do it.

Number eight is for drink machines, which are everywhere.  Street corners or the middle of the block, commercial areas and housing areas.  There are drink machines every couple of blocks.  No, that’s not an exaggeration.  I’m told that’s because it’s so humid and there are so many elderly people.  Most of the offerings seem to be water, coffee drinks and sodas.  I have seen very few with actual fruit juices, just fruit flavor drinks.

Nine would be sugar, it’s everywhere and nowhere.  The Japanese like their sweets, they just don’t like them too sweet.   Ice cream to candy, it’s just not as sugar-loaded as the things I’m used to.  Which is fine by me.  I don’t need my orange candy to taste like a spoon of sugar with a drop of fake orange flavor.  Japanese versions are more like orange juice with thickener and just enough sugar to make it on the sweet side.  The up side of this is there is far less sugar per serving.  The down-side is that you can each a lot more of each item because it takes a lot longer to hit the sugar over-load point.  Danger, Will Robinson, danger!

Ten is for the number of fingers used while pinning clothes to the line to dry.  Or whatever device you use for hanging out your laundry.  Unlike the US where almost everyone uses a clothes dryer when doing laundry, most people here hang their clothes to dry.  Every apartment balcony seems to contain drying laundry or the apparatus for doing so.   When riding on the train I have seen the same in most people’s yards.  Why is it that we keep talking about energy conservation in the US (endlessly!), but so many would (or have) pass(ed) laws to outlaw the simple, and highly useful clothesline?  “Unsightly”, they say, “not in my neighborhood!”  Not quite sure how the humble clothesline offended those people, but personally, I always liked the way my clothes smell after being dried outdoors….

Eleven is the number of inches higher the bathroom is in my hotel room.  At my niece’s apt. each of the rooms were about a 3 inch step up from the main hallway.  I thought this might be a peculiarity of their apt.  Apparently it is pretty common in Japanese living spaces.  The bathroom in the hotel room I am in now is just plain annoying.  The step up to get into the bathroom is high enough that it is just plain awkward to into or out of the bathroom.

Twelve is for tub.  The practice in Japan is a quick shower to get clean, followed by a long soak in the tub.  Tubs in Japan are much shorter than the average US tub, but also much deeper.  When I lean back in the tub here, the water comes up to my, um, chest.  High enough to give things a little, shall we say, buoyancy?  They’re really quite pleasant.  Oh, and the sink faucet is quite long and swivels over to the tub to fill it for your soak.  There is no separate faucet for the tub.  Just a lever that switches the water between the sink faucet and the shower head.

That’s it for now, but I’m sure I’ll add more before it’s all over.

Trip to Mt. Fuji (No “Yama” Mama)

Today my niece’s husband was off from school so it was off to Mt. Fuji for all of us. “All” means my niece, Mia, her husband, Natsuo, and their two children, Hidemi, Satsuki –who are 5 years and 18 months respectively.

Hidemi, Natsuo, Satsuki, Mia at Mt. Fuji

On the drive up, they introduced me to Japanese rest areas. These are not your average U.S. rest areas. More like a small mall. Some are larger, some are smaller, but they contain the requisite bathroom (or 4) and a gas station, plus several eateries, shops carrying all sorts of goods, ice cream and dessert establishments and entertainment. The one we stopped at had a clown making balloon animals for the children and a Rock, Paper, Scissors competition going on in a small open-air amphitheater behind the mall. They take their Rock, Paper, Scissors very seriously in Japan. They had 3 lovely young ladies officiating and coverage by some radio station, but no, I didn’t stay to watch. Instead I was treated to a cup of Japanese-style ice cream. And not ordinary ice cream. This ice cream was made with special high-grade milk from a local dairy that even had a picture of the farmer that owns the dairy. Talk about “local” food! When you go to a grocery store here, the better-quality produce is in special packaging and has a picture of the farmer who grew the fruit or veggie plus a map showing the location of the farm. And those items are not cheap! But they are good….yep, I tried some!

Small portion of rest area

The ice cream was very thick and rich and smooth as silk.  What it was not was disgustingly sweet.  It probably contained one-third the sugar of US ice cream and I have to say that I found it vastly superior to any US brand I’ve ever tried.   I can only eat a single scoop of most ice creams.  The cloying sweetness just overloads both my taste buds and my stomach in a very short span of time.  I could have eaten an entire pint of this and not have been on sugar-overload.  A quart probably wouldn’t have been enough to make me a diabetes candidate.   While we’re on the subject of food differences, the Japanese don’t feel the need to over-color everything either.  I bought a pack of four different flavors of Pez candy.   Four different flavors, but all were the same color — white.  So nice to not have the item I’m eating look like a day-glo reject from a nuclear accident.  (OK, no bad jokes about Japan and nuclear accidents — BEG, wink, wink)

Anyway, on to Mt. Fuji.  For those who insist on saying “Mt. Fujiyama”, please know this:  “Yama” means “mountain” in Janese.  So when you say, “Mt. Fujiyama” you are saying “Mt. Fuji mountain”.   My bit of new knowledge for the day.   Since there is a storm on the horizon, so to speak, we had some concerns that the building clouds would obscure our view of the peak.  And it did seem like it might be a problem as the mountain was only viewable from the waist down on the drive up.  But as the road climbed higher and higher we passed through the lower level of clouds into clear sky and the top of the mountain came into view.   By the time the car was parked and the kids were in their jackets and shoes, the last vestige of cloud had cleared the mountain and left us with an unobstructed view of the peak.

Mt. Fuji

Side note here:  before walking up to the viewing area, we hit the restrooms.  This is where a truly civilized country can shine.  I suppose having a bidet on every Western-style toilet is nice (I haven’t actually tried one out yet.  Not quite sure how much trouble it would be to dry off afterwards…) the icing on the cake here was the fact that all of the toilet seats were heated!  Yes, heated.  It gets cold up there.  Fuji is HIGH.  Even in the summer it can be down-right nippy.  Sitting on that toasty warm seat is a delight.  While I’m at it, let me mention that to save someone with intestinal discomfort from possible embarrassment, they also had the sound of a babbling brook emanating from speakers beside each toilet, set at a volume that was loud enough to drown out any possible sounds of escaping flatulence.   Every other restroom I have been in here had the option of the sound of a flushing toilet available at the push of a button in order to mask any other sound that the stall occupant might not want others to hear.   This was the first place that had pleasant masking sound as a standard feature.  Adorable.

After our little bathroom break, we walked up to get a better look at the peak (and the large selection of shops and restaurants surrounding the parking area…)  As we passed the last souvenir shop we saw about 20 horses tied to rails with several people hawking their “wares”.  The opportunity to have your picture taken on a horse with you little one in your lap…for a mere (approximately) $7.00 US.  Your camera, you print out at home.  The $7.00 was to sit on the horse.  For about $13.50 US, they would walk the horse around the area for about 5 minutes.  For only $28 US, that walk could be extended to 15 minutes!  Natsuo obviously wanted to take Hidemi on a ride, or, at the very least get the picture on the horse.  But the ride was obviously his preference.  Mia was wearing a short skirt and Satsuki was too squirmy and intimidated by the horses to go.    I didn’t think Natsuo wanted to go alone.  Or maybe didn’t want to give himself permission to spend all that money on the short ride with his son, I don’t really know.   But it seemed to me like he could use some moral support for the idea, so I offered to rent a horsie for myself and go along for the ride.

Horse Ride

This whole set-up was meant for the kiddies.  Not the adults.  Well, for the adults in the sense that they could spoil their child a little and get a picture of the whole event for posterity.  It was not meant for the adults alone.  Which is to say that most of the Japanese in the area seemed to find my taking the ride on the horse by myself enormously amusing.   Although they were too polite to actually laugh about it in front of me.  So, of course, I had a wonderful time poking holes in everyone’s expectations of what “should be”.

After the “ride”, I got some wonderful pictures of the native flora and had time to rue the fact that there wasn’t time for me to spend more time hiking around up there.   We went in a couple of shops, bought some souvenirs and then visited a temple tucked behind the stores.  By then most people had left, the sun was nearing the western horizon and the temperature was becoming decidedly nippy.  So after another visit to those adorable heated seats, we headed down the mountain and went to find dinner.  (note to all:  the Japanese version of lasagna bears no resemblance to actual lasagna aside from the cheese on top.  Please don’t order it thinking it will.  It’s not bad tasting, but it’s definitely NOT lasagna!)

Beginnings of fall color

Fall woods with a touch of fog

Oyama-Afuri Shrine

Today I struck out on my own to check out the Oyama Afuri Shrine. My niece showed me the way to the bus station and pointed out the bus that said “Oyama”, number 12.  Then she left to do her shopping and take her baby home.  I waited for 20 minutes without seeing any bus #12.  I asked someone else who understood a few words of English and he said I needed bus 13. Another 20 minutes. No bus 12 or 13, just 3 of bus #10 and one #54. I asked someone else as another bus 10 arrived. He said I needed bus 10 (the same bus I’d now seen 4 times). So I got on and asked the driver. He indicated that 10 was indeed the bus I needed. I asked how much I needed to pay. Another surprise. Buses are primarily on the honor system. There is a screen in the front of the bus that lists the stops. There are prices next to the stop numbers that tell each person how much they owe by what stop they got on at and how far the bus has traveled.

There is no way that the driver is going to be able to remember where each rider got on. So each person pays how much they owe from their point of entry to their point of exit. Since I didn’t yet know how the system worked, I just held out a hand-full of coins and the driver picked out the ones I needed and dropped them in the box for me.
Thus I made it to the shrine. More or less. I was now in the same national park as the shrine. I walked up several sets of stairs with several short walkways in between them, about 175 – 200 stairs in all. That’s when I found the Oyama cable car. Since there were still several hundred stairs between me and both of the shrines on the mountain, I decided to buy a ticket to the top shrine and walk down. This proved to be at least a semi-good idea. The ride to the top was lovely and I chatted with two gentlemen who had a good command of English and were pleasant company.

Oyama cable car

We arrived at the top and parted ways, as they were public servants and had work to do. There were a variety of people at the top; businessmen in suits, elderly people in heavy-duty hiking boots and younger people in street clothes or hiking attire, even one woman in low heels that I felt sorry for thinking about all those stairs.

The view from the top was fabulous. The mountains are extremely steep and the shrine was thousands of feet up the mountainside. There was another set of about 70 stairs behind the shrine that was the beginning to a trail to the top of the mountain. I decided to pass on that one as it was already 2:30 PM and dark arrives a little after 6. I didn’t relish the idea of trying to make my way down in the dark.

One corner of the Oyama Afuri shrine

I toured the area around the temple and took a few pictures and briefly explored a side trail then began my descent. Let me say right here that I was really sorry that I hadn’t begun my little adventure earlier. I really wanted to explore more of that side trail. The mountains here are sooooooo beautiful. So vibrantly green in so many different shades from chartreuse, to jade, teal and evergreen with a couple dozen other hues thrown in. There were lots of interesting fungi and mosses and the area was just delightful to be in.  Plus, I really would have like to see a little of the indigenous wildlife (there was a sign at the cable stop warning of bear in the area, but these are much smaller than their US counterparts and far more shy).   But time and common sense would not permit. Plus it was windy. The kind of windy that allows you to dodge falling branches and choose your steps carefully, lest you get blown off course and find yourself doing unexpected cartwheels down the mountainside.

 

Looking back from the shrine

Forest near the upper shrine

Everything on the mountain is hundreds, if not thousands (literally) of years old. I passed a drainage ditch that channeled rainwater down the side of the mountain. It was almost straight up and down and about 100 feet long and three feet wide. All made out of stones that had been roughly formed and fit together without the use of concert to form the conduit.

Then there were the stairs.   Pretty much the original stairs from when the shrine was dedicated to the rain god many centuries past.  Thus the stairs are all different widths and heights even on the same “step” (one has to use that term loosely….very loosely).   The stairs are made from local stone and they are more or less flat on the top and were probably even at some time in the very distant past.  Now they are simply challenging.  Add to all that the fact that there are no handrails.  Anywhere on the mountain.  I caught the edge of my walking shoe a couple of times and came close to tripping.  Fortunately I kept my balance.  Those were tumbles I wouldn’t have enjoyed taking.

stone stairs, not as even as they appear…

But the hike down was, again, very beautiful.  There were small shrines all over the side of the mountain all the way down.  Most were no more than an upright stone with characters carved into it, but there were also small statues and tiny  caves dug out along side the trail that had carved stone characters inside.   Many of the tiny shrines had coins at their bases that pilgrims had left as they passed.  No one (or almost no one) would think of taking those coins for their own benefit.  Although I believe they are periodically collected by the monks from the shrine.   When Buddhism came to Japan the original shrine to the rain god was converted to a Buddhist shrine and enlarged and adapted.

forest shrine

trail-side shrine

But I was hiking down the mountain, wasn’t I?  I finally made it to the lower shrine.  Again, very lovely with lots to see all around it.  But my knees were already telling me that I was an idiot for not having taken the cable car down to this shrine and balking at every stair. (But I would have missed a lot of interesting sights if I had done so.)   I viewed the shrine and again would have liked to have spent more time but it was getting pretty late and considering the shape my knees were in I was starting to worry about how long it would take me to get to the bottom.  So I pushed on.

 

Detail from lower shrine

More small shrines, one very ornate “cemetery” plot (most people here are cremated upon death, so the plots may hold the remains of dozens of family members in an area that would hold 3 or 4 bodies in the US).  There was a nice stream that formed beside the path near the bottom, but it had become dark enough in the fold of the mountain that I couldn’t take a picture without a flash and my batteries were getting low.

fellow travelers at the bus stop

Fortunately, the final steps to the bottom, the ones below the cable station were at last at hand.  I arrived at the bus stop about 15 minutes before the bus was due and eased myself gratefully onto a bench to wait for good old #10 and the trip back to Isehara station.

I`m Heeeere….

Jet-lagged and half-dead, but here. It was an “interesting” trip. The first step, the jump from St. Louis to Chicago was easy. Well, aside from TSA deciding that an item I had carried in my purse for many years and many flights was now suddenly “dangerous” and I would have to throw it away or not get on the plane. Sheesh. It was some little multi-tool thingy that could loosen a nut, tighten a screw, act as a tiny saw, etc. Seems that one edge was more or less sharpened for about an inch and therefore was a dangerous knife. They briefly considered taking away my nail file, but decided I could keep that.

Anyway, I got to Chicago. I limped onto the plane as my leg was hurting a little and the Japanese flight attendants all rushed to my side to help me with my bags, make sure I was comfy, etc. etc. They couldn’t do enough. As opposed to American, who didn’t want to allow me to pre-board unless I had requested a wheelchair in advance. When I told them I didn’t require a wheelchair, it would just be easier for everyone if I got my slow-moving self out of the way, as I was in the very back of the plane. They gave me a dirty look and some lip, but let me on. Whatever became of common courtesy? It would kill them? Oh yeah, I’m not a Platinum member, therefore lower than dirt. Fly foreign airlines every chance you get folks, they treat you as if you actually have value.

Off my soapbox.

So, I’m on the plane, with my complimentary pillow and blanket (remember those?), all snuggled in when I meet my row-mates, two young men from a group of Japanese students that had been on a trip to IL to study our Mr. Lincoln. The young man who sat next to me had the worst breath! Yikes! But shortly they were serving food and I thought maybe a meal would help. His breath yes, but then he developed pronounced and very smelly flatulence. Help!

The food, however, was great! The first meal was glazed chicken on a bed of rice, cold vegetable salad, fruit salad, miso soup, juice and Haagen Dazs ice cream. Later there was a snack of two small sandwiches followed by a meal of salmon on pasta with white sauce, green salad and citrus (oranges and grapefruit) salad served shortly before landing. You can possibly go hungry on JAL!

After we landed I went through customs where I found out that filling out the documents in pencil was a big no-no and I had to do everything over. One thing the flight attendants didn’t know, apparently. So I did it all over in pen and finally got through customs. Then I went down to claim my bag. I waited and waited and waited, no bag. I started to panic. I finally found someone who spoke enough English to point me to the JAL service counter. I walked up and, lo and behold, my bag! My bag minus both wheels and most of the bottom. They apologized, brought me a cart and sent me to lost and found, which is also damage claims. I have visions of spending a fortune to replace my largest bag so that all my clothes don’t spill out on the next leg of my trip when the sweet little thing that was helping me fill out the forms goes into the other room and comes out with a brand-new bag, larger than my old one, with 4 swivel wheels and a TSA compliant lock (in many ways nicer than the one they destroyed) and says “OK? This one OK?” I definitely agreed with “OK”, transferred all my belongings over and was on my way to the tourist assistance counter.

There were went over my options for getting to my niece’s apt. It sounded like 2 train changes and about 2 hours travel. It was actually 4 train changes and about 4 hours travel. I apparently went the circular route. This was after a 13 hour flight. Tired was a massive understatement. And you know those pictures of people being stuffed onto trains in Japan at rush hour? All I can say is, sardines have it good. Plenty of space in their can.

But I made it to Isehara station where a young lady who didn’t speak English, but who had taken me under her wing anyway, called my niece and told her I was at the station so that Mia (niece) and her husband could pick me up. And that’s all I have the energy for right now. More later.