5/26/07

buddha's birthday

Despite the fact that Korea is hardly noticeably Buddhist in any respect, May 24th is a national holiday on account of the fact that it is Buddha's birthday. Prior to Wednesday (the day before the birthday), this fact was only known to me because Taylor and I had failed to attend the lantern festival for the holiday the previous weekend. Then, on Wednesday, my elementary class informed me that we would not be having class the next day. Never one to trust ten-year-olds who address me as "TEACHA!", I proceeded to ask our resident badass, Dr. Jo (the receptionist), if this was true. Turns out, it was in fact true that we had Thursday off. It also turns out that we had a mandatory picnic and work excursion planned for the day. At the time, I felt the excitement of the day off quickly negated by the existence of the work outing.

Work outings at Veritas usually consist of taking private cars to another city, and quickly boozing, no-rae-banging, eating tremendous amounts of food, and retiring to a love hotel. This outing proved to be about the same, except we were going to the mountains, where there aren't any no-rae-bangs or love hotels. But the booze and food promised to be the same. This was made clear during our stop at the grocery store on the way out of town, where we picked up, among other items, five chickens, twenty bottles of soju, one kilo of garlic and a tube of toothpaste. We were on the road.

After a two hour car ride, including the obligatory stop at a rest area for noodles*, we pulled into a seriously scenic mountain area, shrouded in misty fog. We checked in to basically a rustic hotel room, and immediately cracked into the Budweisers. After one can of beer, various grills and portable burners were placed on the floor in the middle of our seating circle, and piles of meat, mushrooms, onions, kimchi and garlic appeared instantly. It was on. Our boss's friend and family from a nearby town showed up, and his kids were the most shy of foreigners out of anyone I've met in Korea yet. We feasted on thick pieces of rarely cooked beef and beer for about forty minutes before everyone was stuffed. We had consumed about half of the meat. It was brought up that it was time for some exercise.

We romped down the hill to a scenic flat plot of land where we could play choku, which is basically volleyball played with your feet. This holiday really reminded me of either 4th of July or Labor Day, with the focus being on the combination of drinking and outdoor activities. Our Korean coworkers all proved to be surprisingly adept at the game, while I showed my utter hopelessness at kicking a soccer ball over a one meter high net. After one game, I relegated myself to drinking beer and exploring the river. Luckily, by the time I had soaked the better part of my pants by sliding into the river, it was raining pretty steadily. I opted out of the dunk into the river that most of the other men took. Everyone headed back to the room, but I had the brilliant idea that it was time to go for a hike. Of course, we needed not one, but two bottles of soju for the trail. We made it less than a kilometer up the steep, muddy ascent before sense got the better of us, and we each had two shots of soju before sliding down the mountain. I literally slid, and came home with fully saturated and muddy pants. As I had neglected to bring extra pants, my only option was to wear Taylor's pajama pants. (Despite the fact that she has had them since the fifth grade, they fit surprisingly well, aside from being about three inches short in the leg and a BIT tight in the crotch.)

The meat went back on the grill, and the beer was gone, so it was time to hit the soju hard. I don't know whose idea it was to go to the no-rae-bang, but suddenly it was a reality. I told you that there wasn't a no-rae-bang in this mountain park we were at. Three cabs showed up, and we took a twenty minute ride into the nearest large town. The table in the no-rae-bang was covered with ten cans of "Hunter" beverage, which our boss was very distressed to see us dip into. Turns out, "Hunter" is a 0.9% beverage due to local liquor laws. Luckily, Dr. Jo and Brian slipped out to a nearby convenience store to pick up three bottles of whiskey. The taxi ride home is a bit of a blur.

We got home, and the big news was that we were locked out of the room. Nobody could seem to figure out how to get in until TayTay scrambled up the balcony and saved the day. For some reason, it wasn't until we made it inside to the light that anyone, including Brian, realized that Brian was bleeding profusely from a wound above his eyebrow. There was blood, but once we got it cleaned up, Taylor, Brian and I all insisted that the lack pouring, seeping, non-stop blood, despite the fact that it was a drunken head wound, indicated that there was no need for stitches. Our boss (but not Dr. Jo) was sure that a trip to the emergency room was needed. Another taxi arrived and they went back to the town. Brian returned unsure of whether or not he had gotten stitches. I took this to mean that he hadn't.

The ride home was long and hungover. I was one of the lucky ones, considering I was able to go home, shower, and change out of Taylor's pajama pants before I had to teach on Friday night.

*Though you could drive the entire length of the country of South Korea in roughly 7 hours, every road trip, no matter how short, involves a stop at the Korean equivalent of a truck stop.

5/11/07

hokkaido memo vol. 2

Biei is a very small town located on the southern flank of the Daisetsu Mountains, so to get there from Asahidake, I had to take a bus down from the highlands to Asahikawa, and then hug the mountain range about 40 minutes south on a commuter train. My hostel was technically located in the town of Bibaushi, which is one stop south of Biei, and could hardly even be called a town. When I asked where I could have dinner, the owner suggested that the only place for a meal would be to head back into Biei. I checked out Bibuashi, and it turns out he was right, the "town" is a gas station, two convenience stores, and a series of houses. Into to Biei it was.

The next day, I arose early to head back into Biei to check out the promised coffee shops, galleries, and bike rides in the charming little town. The town is beautiful, there is a main street that looks straight into the mountain range. There is a small business section of small shops, cafes, etc. It's charming, and friendly, but not too touristy. It reminds me of a Hood River twenty years before all the sleek shops and fancy cafes showed up.

I stumbled into town about 9 am, a little bummed to find out that the town famed for coffee shops had only one shop that I could find, and it wasn't even open yet. Absent any obvious breakfast places, I decided to just stumble around the town for the morning. The commercial district is a nice collection of tourist and local-oriented businesses. Clothing boutiques are situated next to farm supply stores, photography galleries next to local small town restaurants.

Where the town really shows it's charm, though, is in the residential neighborhoods. The houses have a rugged, frontier quality to them. There is a tired, rusty feel to the yards, many of which contain piles of old junk. What I really love about the houses, though, is the contrast between the rough, dirty appearance of the garages and workshops against the gardens. Given that there were still drifts of snow in the shadows, the gardens were not in their full glory. However, you feel a true beauty to them, the serene Japaneseness that I had come in search of. And on my day out, it seemed to be official sowing time, with dozens of old people out turning the soil for the vegetable gardens. But the best aspect of the houses was the bonsai trees. These were usually tucked back just around the corner or inside a fence, so I couldn't get many good pictures. Just seeing them and knowing that they were there, though, was exhilarating.


After the coffee shop had opened and I got some lunch, I rented a bike and decided the make the 10km trip through the countryside to Takushinkan, a museum/gallery featuring the work of Shinzo Maeda, a famous landscape photographer who took many pictures of the region. I fought a nasty headwind the whole way out, and struggled with a bike that was just not built for people of my size. I even considered turning around at one point, but luckily shamed myself out of that poor decision. The gallery was impressive, but it was more the view of the countryside that made the trip worth the perilous wind battle. The area is known for glorious fields of lavender. Needless to say, the fields were far from purple, and were in fact only a freshly tilled brown in most areas, but it was still gorgeous, especially the patchwork with the areas that were freshly sprouted green. Of course, the ride back was no problem.

I returned my bike and headed back out to Bibaushi. I made great friends with the crew at the hostel over coffee that night. Me being the only foreigner, they of course found it very exciting to talk to me once they all got over their shyness and fear of using their impressive English skills. They all found it absolutely hilarious that I live in Korea, and insisted on having a twenty minute conversation about kimchi. This is not the first time I've heard of kimchi being funny in Japan. I don't know what could possibly be so funny about spicy, smelly fermented cabbage.

With a heightened love for the Japanese people, I left Biei early the next morning to ensure that I could secure a room for the night in Sapporo. I easily acquired a room, and soon set off to explore the town some more. I found limited success in the botanic gardens (though there were some nice Rhododendrons and Magnolias in bloom). The Ainu museum there had an interesting artifact, however.

After the garden, I cruised down into the heart of the city, to return to a bizarre store I had encountered on my first day in Sapporo. This place is the quintessential crazy Japanese store that lived up to to every stereotype I had of what a crazy Japanese store could be. The thing is five stories high, and inside it, you can purchase everything from clothing to your groceries to several varieties of breast shaped pillow to camping stoves to French Maid costumes to school supplies to ashtrays that say "no weed, no life". Needless to say, it was pretty awesome, and obviously the place where I would find a nice souvenir for Taylor. (Which it finally delivered on the fourth floor, in the form of a blue translucent plastic human head piggy bank. It was awkward to pack, but totally worth it.)

I layed low in the afternoon, rereading "To Kill a Mockingbird" in preparation for my return to teaching. Evening came, and I ventured out for one final miso ramen and maybe a light beer at "Gaijin (Foreigner) Bar". I was wrong about the second activity. Upon entering Gaijin Bar, I couldn't help but notice the presence of Dead Guy Ale in the cooler. I had to have one. The bartender informed me that if I liked that, I should try one of the special Japanese market beers that Rogue Brewery makes. Japanese labels and all. I was ecstatic when I asked the bartender what the one with the label entirely in Japanese tasted like, and she answered, strong, bitter, hoppy. Keep in mind that it had been almost three quarters of a year since I'd had an IPA. I don't know if it even would have been better had she handed me fresh bong rip of Trainwreck. Needless to say, I ended up closing the bar and spending all my money on sweet, bitter Oregon beer, not to mention chatting with the local Sapporo foreigners. I was more than a little sad to say goodbye to Hokkaido the next morning.

5/4/07

hokkaido memo vol. 1

For the uninitiated, Hokkaido is the northernmost island of Japan, often referred to as the "Alaska of Japan". The largest city is Sapporo, home of the beer that bears the same name. Hokkaido was only settled in the mid-19th century, so it lacks the centuries of established history found in other parts of Japan. Sapporo is laid out on an American grid system, and has the feeling of a western frontier town. The terrain of the island is rugged and mountainous, the countryside open and rolling.

I landed in Sapporo Friday afternoon and spent the hours into the evening wandering the city's central districts. There is a lovely park that runs along the north/south dividing line; I stopped briefly to enjoy the late afternoon sun slanting onto a nice fountain. The center of the Friday night action is in Susukino, a neon, flashing, pulsing district full of bars, strip clubs, and late night eateries. I wandered around for about 2 hours until my feet were beginning to ache because I was too shy to try out any restaurants. After becoming accustomed to Korean food and being able to read Korean menus, being alone in a new country where I was unable to read menus made me nervous again. After finally deciding to just go for it, I stopped in to a little curry shop with picture menus and enjoyed a nice fried pork cutlet curry dish.

After dinner, I decided to check out "Snack Team", a bar I had stumbled past several times on my wanderings. The sign outside boasted of blues/rock, and the bar did in fact deliver this. Unfortunately, I was the only patron in the bar, and things were a little awkward between the owner and myself, as neither of us was particularly fluent in the other's language. He did have an excellent blues collection, and a really nice assortment of dusty stereo equipment from the 1970's. My guy put on a very nice Buddy Guy live in Tokyo DVD, and that gave us a bit of a distraction. I sucked down three Kirin draft beers, and was a little disappointed to get the bill, which clocked in just shy of US$30. I justified it to myself by remembering that I was the poor guy's only customer all night. Cool bar though.

I woke up late Saturday morning to make a new friend in my roommate, a guy from California who is into traveling, indie rock, and philosophy. Needless to say, we had plenty to talk about. We attempted to go to the Sapporo brewery, but ended up at the old Sapporo brewery, which is now a mall. Luckily, there was a bit of an impromptu petting zoo going on the central plaza, featuring many strange animals, including a nice beaver. We finally determined that we needed to be at the new Sapporo factory, and quickly made the trek north to the actual factory. Upon arrival, we were a little disappointed to find out that we couldn't really tour the actual beer production facilities, only the "beer museum". Despite the lack of English signage, the beer museum was interesting and fairly informative. There was a very bizarre depiction of the beer brewing process using strange cartoon-like characters, and a wide array of historical Sapporo packaging and product samples.


After the tour, we stepped into the sampling room, and each went for the variety tray. We made friends with a very endearing group of folks sitting next to us, and then they bought us each a beer and snack on their way out. Having not eaten all day, we stepped out in the day squinting from the bright light and neatly buzzing. We wandered downtown and feasted on Sapporo's nearly famous miso ramen. We spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the city, checking out the parks, and just exploring. We toured a great Japanese grocery store, where we picked up a six pack of Yebisu "The Hop" tall boys, and some dinner box sets. We headed back home via the Hokkaido University campus, and found a lovely creekside bench on which to enjoy our dinners and beers. Upon arrival back at our hostel, we grabbed Kai's guitar (which he has carried for eight months from India up to Japan) and sat out on the street trading songs late into the night.

I got up early the next day and began my trek out to Daisetsuzan National Park, and Asahidake, the tallest peak in Hokkaido. I had originally been interested in camping, hiking, and perhaps even some backpacking around the peak of Asahidake, but as I neared the resort area, it became clear that the weather was more fitted to skiing than hiking and backpacking. Several meters of snow still piled up on the ground at the mountain's base. It also became clear that I had picked one of the most popular holiday weeks for domestic travel in Japan. I arrived at the resort area greeted by basically laughing faces at the two reasonably priced places to stay when I told them I didn't have a reservation but wanted a bed for the night. I grumpily decided to suck it up and try the giant, super fancy hotel across the street. I started to panic when even that place was booked up. Luckily, there was an incredibly friendly, English speaking woman at the desk who offered to call around and find me a room. The staff of this super classy lodge were more than willing to invite my sweaty, dirty, backpacked self into their reception seating area and offer me tea. The women got me a single room down the road, and I stumbled down to check in. The room ran me about US$100, but it did involve a nice dinner and a warm, private shower.

Despite the setbacks, Asahidake was a wonderful and stunning area. The mountain rose majestically in the background, and rustic log lodges dotted the snowy, forested hills. A nice little river ran through the "town", steaming from the hot mineral spring water that washed out from the many onsen (public baths). The air was clean and cold and wonderful. It was just what I needed, an open space, a tall mountain, and peopleless landscape. Having gotten my mountain fix, I left on the bus next morning and headed down to a town on the edge of the mountains.