Kyudo Lessons

I’ll admit, I had this little fantasy that I was an undiscovered archery prodigy. I imagined that I would go to my archery lesson and the teacher would be astounded by my uncanny ability to hit the target on my first try. Humbled, he would ask me to move to Japan and become his star student.

So, it was a huge disappointment when we arrived at the dojo only to have the sensei frown on me – you see, it was unfathomable to him that I was not there to begin years of study. He confirmed with Luke several times that I would only be there once, shaking his head each time and asking again just to make sure, because to him, we sounded crazy. Crazy gaijin girl who just wants to “try” archery.

After his overcame his initial dismay, I was given a plastic handle with an elastic loop for practicing. Obviously, I was nervous – intimidated by the Zen Master, as it were – not to mention a tad disappointed. The bows were sitting right there, why couldn’t I use one of them?

As it turns out, most students practice with the plastic thingy for weeks before they’re allowed to use a real bow, so I guess I was fortunate that I was allowed to even set foot in the dojo.

As we practiced (minus the endless praise I had expected) other students arrived to pursue their study. They, of course, all used bows, bowing before the target each time they set up to shoot their arrows.

The sensei finally reconciled himself to the fact that I would only be there once, and decided that it would be okay if I practiced with a bow. I was very excited, seeing this as an indication that he believed me to be a fast learner, worthy of practicing with a bow my first try. Not really, though, I think he was just warming up to us and decided that it was his only chance to pass along this Zen art to an eager foreigner.

I was so excited, but my excitement was soon replaced by anxiety, as I could not seem to perform the movements correctly. The sensei kept talking to me and adjusting me while Luke rapidly translated – I was a bit overwhelmed. It’s an extremely difficult sport and I can now see why it takes years to learn and lifetimes to master. The only thing I can compare it to is golf. Everything has to be done perfectly and even if it feels like you’re doing it perfectly you never are. Very frustrating.

However, I continued to practice, as awkward and frustrated as I was. The sensei kept coming over and fixing my posture, lifting my elbow, drawing the bow further, etc. – a few times Luke was conversing with someone else and I had to respond to his instructions by myself. I think he was as frustrated as I was, because he knew I didn’t understand and he had no other way of explaining.

After a couple of hours, I was ready to leave, but it was clear we had to stay and finish the class. The other students were very nice, chatting with Luke while I fiddled with the bow. They even encouraged me to study archery back home. When I explained to them that there wasn’t anywhere to study where I lived, they suggested I go to New York, figuring it’s probably only an hour from my house.

I never did get to shoot an arrow, but it was good I got to try it – kyudo, that is. That’s the Japanese name. I think I forgot to mention that before.

At the end of the class, we joined the other students as they finished their practice, bowing to the small shrine on the wall and clapping their hands. I think if I lived in Japan, I would probably study archery – it was a good challenge, despite the Zen intimidation factor.

P.S. There’s no picture for this posting. Luke wanted to snap some photos, but I completely objected, fearing a scolding from the sensei.

Japanese Weekend, Part II

I don’t know that I’ve made all that much progress with my GMAT study – I still can’t remember how to divide fractions – but, I figure there’s plenty of time for that next week, during layovers and sleepless flights on my way home. So, for now, I will continue to spin this tale of the perfect Japanese weekend. Let’s see, where was I . . .

Oh, yes, the matsuri . . . so we watched the parade and the sumo, and stuffed ourselves full of nutritious festival food before getting back on the road. We decided to take the long way to Sakurajima on some back roads that wind through mountains before spilling out onto the coastal highway. These foothills, albeit small, are quite lovely. Everything here is still so lush and green thanks to what I’m told is unseasonably warm weather and a late fall. Some leaves were getting their first tinge of color, but for the most part, the hillsides are still covered in blankets of thick, ripe foliage.

As soon as we reached the coast and turned north, we could see Sakurajima, its imposing figure rising out of the bay, smoke swirling around the summit. Last time I was here, the weather was cloudy, and since Sakurajima is always shrouded in its own smoke, it was impossible to get a clear view of this massive volcano. So, we were very lucky to be able to see it like this.

The last time Sakurajima erupted, just after the turn of the last century, the lava flow created a small bridge between the island and the mainland, which is why it is now possible to drive to the onsens and other tourist destinations. We crossed the bridge and drove about a quarter of the way around the island before we arrived at the ryokan.

Staying in a ryokan was on my list of things to do on this visit to Japan, so I was pleasantly surprised when Luke told me he had planned a stay at one of these traditional inns, no less at the base of a volcano!

When you arrive, they serve you green tea and let you relax in the lobby for a moment before a kimono-clad woman comes to take you to your room. We were greeted by an older lady dressed in a green kimono who was quite eager to share ryokan tradition with a couple of gaijin. She took us upstairs and opened our door to reveal a tiny foyer that led into a giant tatami room overlooking the bay. It was awesome! Definitely the coolest hotel room I have ever stayed in. She showed us where everything was, made sure that we had the right size yukatas and asked us what time we wanted to have breakfast and dinner before she left us to get settled.

Our room was set up with a large table – they come in while you’re at dinner to lay out your futons – and there were a couple of chairs by the balcony where you could sit and look at the view. There was a TV, too, which I didn’t expect, but everything in the room seemed really traditional, at least to me.

When you stay in the ryokan, you wear a yukata everywhere. It’s super relaxing to just chill out in this bathrobe-type garb. We changed into our purple yukatas and headed for the onsen. This particular onsen is coed, which is quite unusual. So, it’s obviously not nude, you get another yukata to wear in the bath.

We descended several flights of stairs and a funky sideways moving elevator to get down to the onsen. It’s right on the water, at the base of the cliffs, so you have to go down quite a ways to get to it.

This is, by far, the prettiest onsen I have ever been to – it’s a relaxing hot pool right in the bay, really, and it’s surrounded by big rocks and a huge tree that hangs over one side, creating a little grotto that houses a small shrine. We were down there at sunset, and the light was amazing! Not to mention, totally relaxing. We stayed in the pool for about an hour before heading upstairs for dinner.

Dinner is served in a big tatami dining room. We shuffled down there in our yukatas and slippers for a traditional Japanese meal. I have never really had a formal Japanese meal, so this was quite a surprise, and I got to try all kinds of things I’ve never had before.

The meal is served in several courses. There are a few things you would expect – pieces of sashimi, miso soup, rice, stuff like that – and lots of things that are kind of unusual. There was raw chicken, which I stayed away from, but I tried pretty much everything else. My favorite was the egg custard – it’s served hot in a little cup and it’s filled with vegetables and seafood. The shabu-shabu was good as well. I’d tried it before in Tokyo – it’s kind of like fondue. We also had some snails and a clam served on the half shell with this amazing sweet, buttery sauce. I think the last thing we got was a tempura dish. It was basically lots of little tastes of different things. I would guess that we were eating for about two or three hours. It goes on for a while.

We returned, totally full, to our room, which was laid out for sleeping. It was honestly a great night of sleep – the futons were so comfortable on the tatami and the duvets were so cozy. I was completely refreshed the next morning.

When we woke up, we headed down to the onsen again for an early morning soak. It was great because it was a little bit chilly and no one was really down there. Then it was time for breakfast, which was also totally traditional – rice, fish, miso, tea, egg and this funny little salad. I actually really like the breakfasts here. I think they’re pretty healthy and they keep you full for a little while anyway – at least as far as the next Lawson.

After breakfast, we packed up and headed out for a drive around the island. It was a beautiful day and we had amazing views of the volcano all the way around. We stopped at the visitor center to learn more about the volcano’s history and find out if they could predict the next explosion. I guess they can’t – personally I think it would be kind of stressful to live under that thing while it constantly rumbles. But, I guess people just sort of deal with it. And realistically, if it did erupt, it’s not like I would be much safer in Miyakonojo anyway.

Once we made it off the island, we plotted our journey home. There’s this restaurant I really like at the base of Kirishima, the volcano by Luke’s house, so we decided to go back to Miyakonojo by way of the cold soba. It is soooo yummy! I would go out of my way anytime to eat there – they have this bread that has a sweet red bean filling that I am absolutely addicted to. It’s delish!

And, so the perfect Japanese weekend came to an end. Between the matsuri and the ryokan and the sightseeing, I would say it was the quintessential Japanese experience. And, we made it home just in time for a nap.

Say No to Forks

I have been eating with a fork my entire life. Nearly every meal – breakfast, lunch and dinner – has required the use of some western eating utensil, be it fork, knife, spoon or whatever. So, how is it that I come to a country where forks are rarely, if ever, used, and the one time I eat with one I bite down on it so hard that I chip my tooth? I find this totally baffling. I mean what are the odds? One would assume that if I were going to chip my tooth on a fork, it would be at home, where I use a fork everyday. But, no! I have to fly all the way to Japan and gorge myself on curry, pork and rice in order for this damage to occur. And though, it’s not a noticeable flaw, I’m afraid my Dad will cringe when he reads this, knowing that if I was going to ruin my teeth anyway, he could have saved on those years of orthodontics and bought a like a private jet or something instead.

Japanese Weekend, Part I

If there ever was a perfect Japanese weekend, this past few days was it for us. After lazing around Luke’s apartment on Saturday morning, we packed up and headed out for our ryokan (a ryokan is a traditional Japanese inn – tatami rooms, futons, yukata, onsens . . . stuff like that) stay on Sakurajima, the smoking volcanic island that rises dramatically out of Kagoshima Bay.

After settling in Luke’s car, getting dialed in with the Eagles football podcast, and stopping for water and snacks at Lawson, we were off. Yasue recommended that we stop at a festival taking place in a small town along the way. She thought it would be a good opportunity for me to have a rural matsuri experience.

So, we headed for Iwagawa, home to an absolutely humongous samurai sculpture – the backdrop of the town, really, and the icon around which the festival is celebrated. The sculpture is modeled after Sekune Takenouchi, who was the chief of the Old Imperial Guard, the leader of the Hyato tribe, which lived in the area from the fourth to the seventh century, A.D.

Every year all the townspeople gather to parade around a giant doll named Yagoro Don that symbolizes this great warrior. This doll wears a kimono and long and short swords and is wheeled through town on a rolling platform every November 3. So, we were really quite lucky to happen upon this matsuri.

And, our timing was perfect. We arrived in Iwagawa just in time to do all things matsuri before the parade rolled through and we headed off to Sakurajima. Our first stop in town was the great statue. It really is enormous. I imagine you can see it from miles away, as it’s perched on a hillside and stands who knows how high. There are several great photos that do much better justice to him than would my elementary descriptions of his robes and swords.

After hanging out at the statue, taking pictures from almost every angle – how very Japanese – and capturing some fairly epic Engrish on film, we headed down the hill to check out the matsuri.

I think this is maybe the third matsuri I have been to in Japan. They all have food and performances and a parade. But, this particular event stands out, one because I ate a really good donut while there, but also because of the variety and quality of the festival fare, not to mention the unusual, but impressive spectacles, and the enthusiasm of the crowd. This was a top-notch matsuri, to say the least.

I mentioned the donut, which was hot and sugary and amazing – definitely rivals any Krispy Kreme I have ever tasted. And of course, there was plenty of octopus on a stick, fried chicken, deep-fried bits of squid and fish, fries, corn on the cob . . . what else? I guess, pretty much your typical Japanese matsuri cuisine. That is, until we happened upon a giant, sizzling hunk of pork that Luke couldn’t walk away from. He debated his purchase for a few minutes, and undeterred by my comment that it could feed a large family, decided he had to experience this greasy delicacy. What can I tell you? He’s from Philly. And, while it appeared to me that most people were wrapping theirs up and taking them home, probably for dinner, Luke dove straight into this fatty brick. I declined his offer for a taste, and after a few satisfying, yet detestable bites later, Luke realized he could not conquer this block of bacon.

But, who am I to judge? I consumed two giant sno-cones, the size of my head, before we left the tiny town of Iwagawa. And, I get ahead of myself! Between slurps of cherry sno-cone and chews of fatty pork, we visited the shrine, also a central part of the festival, and watched some interesting displays of physical prowess.

Midway through my second sno-cone, we ventured into a dusty arena where several groups were performing various arts. Toward the middle of the grounds on both sides, kids and teenagers were standing in lines for inspection of some kind. I don’t really know what was going on there, because I was distracted one, by the judo contest, and two, by what appeared to be the youth sumo league. That’s right, a bunch of little fat kids sumo wrestling.

I’m not gonna lie, it was kind of shocking to see a bunch of little kids – boys only, of course – strutting around in those diaper-thongs (I realize this is very ignorant, but I don’t know what they’re really called, and while I know I could Google it, I think diaper-thong conveys better this visual). I personally felt like kind of a voyeur watching all of this – it seemed like such an outrageous, and really kind of illicit display, like cockfighting or something. It was weird. But we watched anyway, running frantically from the judo competition as soon as we saw the kids start to fight.

The kids seemed so unevenly matched – some of them were absolutely obese, while others were skinny little rails. And, of course, the fat kids always won.

Seeing that it was nearly time to get back on the road and head for the ryokan, we left the arena, just in time to see the parade go through. It was small, but lively and the performers were incredibly enthusiastic as they pounded on their drums and danced around the big doll. I think festivalgoers and participants alike were impressed to see a couple of gaijin taking part in a festival in their tiny town. And, if I ever find myself back on Kyushu on November 3, I will certainly go back to Iwagawa, if for nothing else than donuts and sumo.

Though this lengthy entry does not conclude the perfect Japanese weekend, part two will have to wait until I’ve studied more material for the GMAT exam.

Bows & Arrows

I am totally fascinated by archery. I don’t really know why, I just think it’s so badass. Last time I was in Miyakonojo, we visited the local history and culture museum, which is housed in what was the estate of a feudal lord, I think. Anyway, they had all these bows on display and I remember being so impressed by, one, their size, and two, their flawless craftsmanship. The Japanese do everything so perfectly and precisely, and the bows are no exception. After a few moments studying the contents of the display, I decided that I had to be an archer.

Archery is no small undertaking. It’s actually a Zen practice, so you don’t just “dabble” in it. But, it’s not like I really have a choice in my time commitment. I don’t live here and from what I know there’s not like an archery master hiding in the Vail Valley. So, I will just have one shot, if I get to do it at all.

I digress – we haven’t even gotten to the lesson part yet. But I got to do something equally as cool the other day – that is, visit the workshop where they make bows and arrows. This place is rad, and unfortunately, my camera battery died just a few minutes into our visit, so I don’t have many pictures. But, take my word for it – it was amazing.

Apparently, and I did not know this before, Miyakonojo is known for archery. So, this guy who makes the bows, as did his father before him, and his father before him and so on and so forth, sells his work all over the world.

His workshop housed an impressive collection of bows, all slightly different sizes, each with their own unique coloring and grip. The bows are quite large – basically my height. And their strength is measured by the tension of the string.

All bows are made with bamboo – the center layer fused on either side with some other kind of wood. It takes nearly half of a year to complete a bow because of the time it takes to bend the wood – it’s very gradual so that it curves and does not crack.

The string, which used to come from natural materials, is now usually synthetic, because the man-made materials are stronger.

Finished bows are stained or lacquered and the grip is fashioned from different colored leather. Sometimes there are tassels on the ends for decoration. They’re really quite beautiful – I think I would actually put mine on display if I had one. But, that’s the kicker. They cost around $1,000. Yikes! You can get cheaper bows, but the really nice competition pieces are pricey.

While we were at the workshop, I got to try holding the bow and drawing the string back. (I don’t know if I am even close on the terminology. I mean, “string,” that can’t be right!) It is really hard because you have to hold it up above your shoulders, so you can’t use the core of your body for strength. I’m told that it takes weeks to learn how to do this, but I still can’t wait to give it a try.

Happy Halloween

I remember Halloween parties growing up as involving all sorts of games. Mostly games like bobbing for apples or getting blindfolded and sticking your hands in bags of gross slimy stuff and having to guess if it was brains or guts. And, of course, haunted houses, which if staffed by school kids or church people, usually served to create more laughs than fright. Anyhow, as I got older, Halloween turned from trick-or-treating to something a little more risqué, perhaps. That’s because once you pass a certain age, you can’t just dress up as a witch, you have to be a hot witch. If you want to be a fairy, you have to be a sexy fairy. And if you have any thoughts of dressing up as something cute and furry, it had better be a Playboy Bunny. No haggard, frightful shrews to scare away the boys – just lusty temptresses. I think I prefer the scary to the seductive (I would personally rather intimidate than entice), but my costumes become scantier and scantier every year.

At any rate, I am getting off track. The whole point of this story is to share how my participation in a Halloween game at the age of 26 nearly led to ingestion of a fake nail.

So, we arrived at the Miyakonojo Halloween party. Luke as a boxer and I as a fairy. I was thinking we would have some drinks, mingle, maybe dance a little. But, no. First there was a little talent portion – some singing witches who collectively sounded like the Japanese version of the Chipmunks. Followed by a game called, “Pass the Parcel,” or something like that, where you stand in a circle and pass around gift and when the music stops you get to unwrap it. If you’re the one to unwrap the last layer, you get to keep the present. After that, it was time for, for lack of a better name, “Inhale the Large Cream Puff Before Anyone Else.” I was roped into this messy display against my will, as they were in need of another gaijin (foreigner/outsider/stranger, whichever you prefer) participant. So anyway, I was paired up with a Japanese girl who actually spoke quite a bit of English, and we agreed that I, being the American, would do the eating.

So, it works like this. The person eating sits in the chair with her hands behind her back, while her partner, blindfolded, feeds her the pastry. Fine, I thought, I can do this (see, I forgot about that Japanese hot dog guy who holds the world record, so I thought that as an American, I had the contest on lockdown, except for Luke of course, who would kick my ass at pastry eating in the row behind me). Upon taking my seat and prepping to chow down on this giant, powder-covered, baked good, I suddenly realized that my partner had some very long acrylic nails. Yes, long, long, fake fingernails. And, while long nails really gross me out, I decided to forget about it and forge ahead.

It was all fine and good – except for the fact that I was really a slow eater – until we neared the end of the contest and in my hurried chewing I came across a foreign object. Thinking it was plastic from the pastry box or something, I pulled it out of my mouth only to discover my partner’s fingernail. All, I can say is that it tops the list of grossest things that have ever happened to me. And, the worst part was the ensuing awkwardness. I didn’t know if I should tell her that I almost swallowed her fingernail, and hence make her feel embarrassed for wearing cheap nails, or if I should just pretend like I never came across it. I opted for the latter. Surely, she’s still wondering what happened to her nail, probably assuming that it was swept away in the mounds of cream covering the table at the end of the game. But, I will always have to live with the fact that I almost swallowed an acrylic nail while participating in an eating contest at a Halloween party in Southern Japan. Weird.

The remainder of the party was somewhat lackluster in comparison to what could have turned into a digestive debacle. I spent much of the time pulling filo dough and dried cream off my costume and face, while attempting to communicate, in drunken tones, with partygoers who spoke no English. Tired and sticky we made an abrupt exit, escaping all invitations to continue the revelry in great Japanese fashion at a karaoke bar.

Back in the Jo

I had a feeling I would find my way back to Miyakonojo. I just didn’t think it would be quite this soon. But, here I find myself, about two-and-a-half months after my last trip, wandering incompetently throughout this relatively unknown Japanese town. It’s kind of a trip. And wander is kind of a lie. I just got in last night, and thought I’ve ventured to the vending machine for some excellent Japanese coffee, I have mostly been catching up on work and getting glimpses of the World Series on the TV guide channel.

You see, they do televise these games here, because of Daisuke and Matsui, but it’s only on cable, and Luke doesn’t have cable. But one of the channels is split into 16 tiny screens so you can see all broadcasts simultaneously. So, I am watching Rockies baseball players the size of ants take on the Red Sox in a tiny corner of the screen. And, since I can’t see the score, I have to check ESPN.com periodically for an update.

Anyhow, it’s strange to be back here – I mean, who visits Miyakonojo regularly? That’s right, no one. Except for me – driven by the desperation of a long distance relationship to spend thousands of dollars and travel thousands of miles. It’s kind of fun, though. I feel like a jet setter. Yesterday at the airport I felt quite experienced and important finding my way through the familiar routine of getting from one continent to the next. Even another foreigner sought my advice at the entrance to customs. I must look like I know what I am doing.

So, last night, Luke picked me up in Miyazaki – it was raining, of course, because it always rains whenever I go anywhere – and we made the short drive back to Miyakonojo. It’s definitely a lot different to visit this time. The weather is much, much better. Still humid, but a lot cooler. (I worry about having to readjust to the cold when I get home, but I guess it will be nice to be warm for a few more weeks, before I become a skiing popsicle on the slopes of Vail.)

It smells different, too. When I walked out this morning to get some coffee, it was the first thing I noticed. It must be the smell of fall, but it’s much sweeter here than it is in Colorado. Unlike the subtle dry, leafy odor we drink in all through October, this is pungent and thick. I like it though – it complemented well my peek into the temple grounds next door.

I’m not sure what I am going to do today. Luke is at work until late afternoon. He’s actually going to be working the whole time I’m here, which is probably good. I plan on spending the time working and studying for my GMAT. Yuck. But, it sounds like we have some weekend trips planned, and Luke has arranged an archery lesson for me! I am so excited for that.

Hopefully, I will be able to relax and get out a little more on this trip. Last time I was here I had so much work to do, and this short visit seems to have landed fortuitously in a small chunk of time between completion of a few projects and initiation of a few more. So, that’s good.

I think this concludes my first entry. Unless something fascinating happens to me on the way to the Lawson convenience store – you never know!

Sayonara, Part II

And a later date it is. The whole point of my story is now moot. I was trying to explain how my return tickets were for different days. I was to fly out of Miyazaki on August 13 and then out of Nagoya on the 16th. But, as it turns out, I was able to get a flight back to the states right away, so no dillydallying in Nagoya for me – thank goodness!

I suppose that wraps up my trip to Japan. My last week was spent hanging out in Miyakonojo and taking some daytrips with Luke. This adventure culminated in the biggest festival of the year, the Bonchi Matsuri (they must have known I was leaving!). For such an occasion, Luke and I decided to wear traditional Japanese clothing – a yukata, or summer kimono, for me, and a jimbe for Luke.

I was fitted for a yukata at a local kimono shop with some help from Yasue. After trying on a few different patterns, I settled on a dark red robe covered in sakura, or cherry blossoms, and a marigold obi belt.

In preparation for the festival, I put my hair up, as you’re traditionally supposed to do, and left plenty of time to get dressed. I thought it would take me a while to arrange the yukata and conquer the challenge of tying the obi belt, but I managed fine, and we were off to the matsuri.

Luke arranged for us to dance in the parade with the Miyakonojo International Association. We had about 10 minutes to learn the two dances, which no one in the group was really able to pick up. It involved a fan, fancy footwork and a bunch of clapping. I wasn’t too worried, though, as we were in a sea of people, so no one would notice if we were out of step.

I attempted to dance for a little while, but eventually resorted to just sort of walking in the back while fanning myself, running off to the side, every now and then, to snap a photo of Luke looking totally perplexed as he tried to follow the dance leader.

After the parade, we sampled all the festival food and watched performances and drumming in the streets. It was a fantastic way to cap off my trip.

On Sunday, I bought a few last minute souvenirs and packed up before heading out for my last taste of real Japanese sushi – for a while anyway.

But no worries, I think there is more Japan in my future – hopefully sooner than later.

Sayonara, Part I

This entry finds me sitting on the floor at Nagoya Chubu International Airport. I flew in from Miyazaki this morning, and now I’m waiting for a United agent to show up and decide my fate.

You see, when I booked this crazy trip, it was a little last minute and I didn’t have many travel dates to choose from since I used miles to buy my ticket. Luke arranged for my flights between Nagoya and Miyazaki, also using miles. My return tickets . . .

(And, I’ve just been asked to remove my plug from the outlet. For some reason, they don’t want me plugged in and have actually sent someone to tell me so. I wonder how long, first of all, it took for them to muster the confrontational skills to decide I needed to be told to unplug, and then to find someone to translate into English. Hard to say. But, as I’m about to run my battery, this will have to resume at a later date.)

Do you like Kentucky?

At about 10 o’clock on Saturday morning, my new Japanese friends, Shiho and Ichan, picked Luke and me up for our shopping excursion to Kagoshima. Shiho drives a white Toyota 4Runner with a spoiler – an unusual addition to an SUV, I thought, until we got on the expressway and Shiho proved, at high speed, why she probably needs such an accessory.

Anyhow, we drove about an hour and half, making chitchat, via Luke. I asked them what they were shopping for – Shiho, a watch, and Ichan, new clothes. We also talked a little about music and work, all the while learning new words in each other’s languages.

When we go to Kagoshima, we made our way to a big mall connected to the station. And thus, six hours of shopping commenced.

The malls here are interesting in that, the stores aren’t really defined. Everything is in kind of an open space with vague partitions. It all sort of runs together. This mall, according to the girls was pretty good, but we would be going somewhere later for a better clothing selection – I could only hope.

Admittedly, I was not inspired to buy much, clothing-wise, at this mall. You see, the apparel here . . . how can I say this? Sucks? And I say this objectively. I think that empirically, anyone would find that when material, quality and style are all factored in, clothing in Japan leaves a lot to be desired. Not to mention that it’s expensive. Even if I had found something I sort of liked, I probably wouldn’t have made a purchase, because I could find something more my style at home, for a lot less.

So, I held out for mall number two. In the meantime, I did find a good Engrish t-shirt and actually almost bought a winter hat, deterred only by the fact that it was real fur and real pricey.

Sometime near the end of our stint at mall number one, Ichan approached me, and in her best English, asked, “Do you like Kentucky?”

“What?” I said, thinking, does she mean the state. And then quickly concluding that there’s no way she knows what Kentucky is, much less enough about it to inquire after my opinion.

She asked again as Luke came over, switching to Japanese so he could translate. Turns out she was asking me if I liked Kentucky Fried Chicken. I don’t, but I said I did, because it is too hard to say, “no,” in this culture.

And that is how I found myself eating lunch at KFC in Kagoshima, Japan. It wasn’t too bad, actually. But the portions were significantly smaller than in America. And as my teeny, tiny Japanese friends struggled to consume their bite-size sandwiches and small order of fries, I was begging Luke to go up and order more for me. In the end, I resorted to finishing Ichan’s fries.

After lunch we made our way to mall number two, where the supposedly better selection of clothes was waiting. That is, a better selection, if you spend most evenings lurking on dark street corners. And, I don’t say that to be mean at all. My Japanese friends are totally charming and adorable – not at all slutty. I guess they just pull off the style.

Needless to say I didn’t find anything here, though Shiho desperately tried to get my foot crammed into a pair of sparkly, emerald stilettos – bless her heart (they really wanted me to find something cool, I think).

The highlight of the day definitely came when Luke and I saw a very pregnant woman contemplating the purchase of a shirt that, in no uncertain terms, declared the wearer was a fellatio fanatic. It was pretty unbelievable.

About five or six hours passed before we called it a day. And a day it was. Luke, unaccustomed to shopping, was totally wiped. As was I. For Shiho and Ichan, it seemed par for the course. They were totally unfazed by that many hours spent browsing racks of the latest styles.

On the way home, we listened to Destiny’s Child’s greatest hits, and chatted a little more, but I think we were all tired of trying to communicate in another language. So, they gabbed in the front seat about who knows what, while Luke and I contemplated the repercussions of Barry Bonds’ upcoming home run.

Lowrider

It turns out the Lowrider knows no bounds. While the sight of this is common enough in Colorado, I never expected to see a shiny white truck, decorated with Mexican flags, glide by, just inches above the ground, in Miyakonojo. They don’t even have Mexican food here, and if you tried to order a margarita, the bartender would look at you like you had three heads.

Not to mention, it was captained by two Japanese dudes. Pioneers of this Mexican-American phenomenon, I guess, who might as well have been cruising the streets of L.A. or San Diego.

Thankfully, they were oblivious to the gaijin girl (me) chasing them down the street to get a picture. Not that they would have done anything about it anyway – the might drive the car, but the attitude is far behind.

Coastal Tour

Luke’s international driving permit is about to expire, and because he’s staying in Japan for another year, he has to get an actual Japanese driver’s license. Basically, he has to make like he’s 16 again and take driving lessons and a test. It’s a long, drawn out, inconvenient and expensive process for a foreigner to get licensed to drive in this country, requiring several trips to Miyazaki city and lots of yen. It sucks for Luke, but for me it means extra trips to the beach and the crazy Japanese shopping mall.

One such visit to Miyazaki city for this whole licensing debacle led to a trip to Mos Burger, “Fine Japanese Burger and Coffee.” (This so-called fast food actually involved a 20-minute wait at the window for our teriyaki burgers, fries and shakes, and yes they do screw up orders just as badly here as they do in the States.) After which we began a long drive down the Southern Coast of Kyushu. Luke’s Coastal Tour remains one of the best parts of my trip so far. We stopped at a secret swimming hole where we jumped off rocks into the ocean, and wandered around looking at tide pools. Then we found a shrine hidden deep in a valley next to a beautiful waterfall. And finally we visited Cape Toi, the home of a herd of wild horses. All along the way we saw monkeys hanging by the roadside and more hawks than I could count gliding just above.

I still can’t believe how tropical and exotic this part of Japan is. It’s such a contrast to the concrete Jungle that is Tokyo.
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On my next visit to Miyazaki city, Luke dropped me at the Starbucks while he attended a driving lesson. Yes, that’s right, Starbucks. Globalization finally reared its ugly head (first time this trip!), and I found myself drinking iced coffee under the all too familiar green sign. In my defense, I will say that I had a lot of work to do and not knowing the area, I decided this would be the most reliable option. In this part of Japan, there’s not exactly a thriving freelance culture, and therefore not many coffee shops catering to the needs of struggling writers and trust funders.

Anyhow, after I compromised my morals at Starbucks, we made a trip to the mall for ice cream and to shop for souvenirs and Engrish. No such luck, although it was kind of fun to see Japanese shopping mall culture. It’s basically the same as at home – families and teenagers killing time on a weekend afternoon.

This weekend I am going to the mall in Kagoshima to kick it with my new Japanese girlfriends. Luke, much to his chagrin, has to go along as my translator. I am really looking forward to it – should be interesting to experience an outing with the girls, Japanese style.

Many, many, many, many, many thanks - the bow in action

I have been waiting for the occasion when bowing is totally excessive to the point of both parties continually doing it with no end in sight. It finally happened!

Luke and I went to a tea ceremony with Yasue the other day to learn about this Zen practice. Traditional ceremonies are about three hours long, but our peek into this mysterious art only lasted about 15 minutes.

Upon arrival, we watched the lady (I don’t actually know what they call the tea ceremony teacher) make the tea and then knelt down on the tatami to be served. Before we went, Yasue gave us a preliminary lesson so we wouldn’t screw up too badly.

It’s all very exact, and adhering to the etiquette is extremely important. When you are served you actually have to look at the person on your right and essentially apologize that you’ll be drinking your tea before they’ve been served. Then you pick up your teacup (it’s really a bowl), turn it 90 degrees clockwise, twice, and slurp. And you really have to slurp – two times and on the third gulp you have to finish off the green tea with a really loud slurping noise. This is to show how much you like it.

After that you have to admire the teacup, at length, and offer heaps of compliments to your hostess. It goes on and on for hours, like this, and concludes with kneeling and bowing to no end.

First you thank the hostess by bowing low to the floor, then she thanks you with a bow and you have to thank her again, bowing of course. At this point, I think she thanks you for thanking her (bowing) and you acknowledge this with additional gratitude also in the form of a bow. Mind you, this is all while you’re still on your knees before you even get up to leave.

Then it starts all over again. I became totally lost in the second round and certainly committed a faux pas when I neglected to kneel and bow for like the tenth time at the door. I think Yasue was confused, too. The Japanese bow all the time for sure (they even do it in the car when yielding), but it doesn’t usually go to such extremes.

You always hear about things like this when Americans satirize the Japanese, but to see it first hand was deliciously awkward!

Gaijin dances, two dead

Arrival and going away parties seem to be a pretty big deal in this culture, which is why I found myself at yet another bon voyage occasion for a few of Luke’s coworkers. This time it was at the Kirishima Brewery/Beer Garden. Actually a really cool venue with a huge outside tent – perfect for parties. Lot’s of other people were there celebrating or just relaxing. It’s matsuri (festival) season here, so people are in high spirits and are very social. On this particular evening, the Kirishima Beer people were distributing prizes to people who wore their traditional garb, or yukata.

One small group of women seemed especially excited to be participating, and celebrated further with karaoke and a traditional dance. This tiny old woman kicked off her wooden flip-flops and performed an intricate series of steps and hand motions, in the middle of which, she decided that I would make an excellent addition to her repertoire.

All of a sudden I was yanked from my chair and thrust into the middle of the tent, much to the delight of the 70 or 80 half-drunk Japanese in the audience. I tried, vainly, to imitate her movements, but mostly succeeded in looking like an uncoordinated giant in contrast to the tiny women next to me.

Photos revealed that indeed, I was Neanderthalic at best, in my attempt. If you have the pleasure of viewing them yourself, perhaps the same headline will run through your head, “Gaijin dances, two dead.” It really looked like if I made a wrong move, I might have been responsible for the demise of a revered obachan (old woman).

Tanegashima

I have never thought of Japan as a beach destination. I don’t think anyone really does – at least not anyone on our side of the world. So it was quite a surprise to find myself on the island Tanegeshima, off Japan’s south coast, enjoying some of the most beautiful, tropical beaches I have ever seen. The warmth and clarity of the water rivaled the emerald quality of the Gulf Coast, while the scenery was somewhat reminiscent of the rocky arches that decorate Capri.

It was at once the best of all my favorite seaside spots, and completely new and different at the same time. Everything I love about the beach with a Japanese twist.

Our weekend began with a ferry ride from Kagoshima – about a two-hour drive from Miyakonojo. I slept most of the way, thanks to a somewhat late night involving yakiniku (all you can eat grilled meat) and karaoke. When we got to Tanegashima our rental car was waiting with an old woman (who actually referred to herself as old woman, “obachan”), and after attaching Luke’s surfboards to the top of the car, we headed to a surfer’s getaway called Mauna Village.

That evening we strolled along the beach, collected seashells, took a quick dip in the ocean and gorged ourselves at the Mauna Village BBQ. They put a plate of seafood and meat in front of us that could have fed 10, and we did America proud and ate most of it between the two of us (that’s two huge chicken legs, two whole fish, countless strips of beef and pork, eggplant, tofu and peppers).

After a restless night’s sleep on the world’s thinnest futons, complemented by rice pillows, we set out to explore Tanegashima. We stopped lots of places to see the view and check out the beaches, but our final destination that day was a cove on the southern tip of the island . . .

Imagine the perfect beach – totally picturesque in its palm tree frame, sugar sandy beaches littered with spectacular shells and clear blue water with gentle waves carrying surfers to shore . . . yes this was where we spent our day, Iwasaki Beach.

We surfed (yes, me, too!), relaxed, played football and I collected a bazillion shells. It was a perfect beach day, to say the least!

While that is hard to top, the next day certainly did not disappoint. This time we headed to the north side of the island where we found a small beach with crystal clear green water and almost no waves – the perfect place to float on the American flag inner tubes we rented.

Having thoroughly zapped ourselves after two full days in the sun, we drove around the island a bit more and then went back to port to catch the ferry home. The ride this time was absolutely sensational as we watched neighboring islands float in the distance while the bright orange sun set behind classically Japanese volcanoes.

(Think I could get a job with Japan’s tourism board, promoting this country as a beach destination?)

Japanese Lessons

No longer am I the incompetent wretch who arrived in Miyakonojo. No siree, I am learning Japanese! And though two lessons with Luke’s teacher, Yasue, have not made me the intellectual equal of my peers, I communicated quite well with a four-year-old at the park the other day. That is, until we made it past basic introductions and she started saying things I couldn’t understand, at which point I frantically regurgitated the phrase I know best, “Nihongo ga, hanasemasen!” or, “I don’t speak Japanese!”

I may not be headed for fluency, but that does not deter me. Japanese lessons are the best! When I arrive at Yasue’s house, she serves me tea and a snack and we do things like learn to count, and yesterday I practiced writing my name.

It’s like preschool for big kids!

Next lesson we are meeting at a café so I can practice ordering food and asking questions.

Until then, Sayonara!

Day at the Beach::Udo Shrine

We took the back way to the coast, winding through rice paddies and other crops on two-lane country roads, reaching Miyazaki city and the ocean in just over an hour. Miyazaki is known for its beautiful coastline, surf breaks and seaside resorts. There are small stretches of sandy beaches, though most of the shore is characterized by what is called the Devil’s Washboard – a jagged rock formation caused by wave erosion.

After a quick lunch overlooking a small surf break, we stopped for a swim. The water was colder and cloudier than normal thanks to the typhoon, but still great for taking a dip. We relaxed in the waves, played a little American football (I’m sure Luke owns the only football on this island!), and checked out the tide pools hidden in the rock bed.

I think the local beachgoers were amused by us – Luke and his pigskin, and me in a bikini with most of my skin exposed (the women here keep covered up, not so much out of propriety, but to keep their skin white and smooth – these smart ladies simply don’t see the point of a tan).

Sand and salt encrusted, we made our way further south for a visit to Udo Shrine. Now, I have been to a few shrines both on this visit and when I was in Tokyo a few years back, but quite frankly, Udo blows them all out of the water. It is probably the most beautiful place in Japan.

In order to get to the shrine, you have to escalate an Indiana Jones-esque staircase with a silly number of rocky, old steps and once you’ve reached the top, you have to descend equally as far to the cliffs overlooking the sea. But is it ever worth it.

Down a pathway, through several gates you plunge even further into the rocky cove. And hidden in a grotto at the end is Udo Shrine. This shrine is intended to promote healthy relationships and fertility (we’ll take the healthy relationship bit only, thanks very much).

And thus, my description of the shrine ends. In all my articulacy, I don’t think I have the words to continue. Check out the pictures or visit for yourself.

Typhoon Man-Yi

My fun-filled first week in Miyakonojo ended with a typhoon. Yes, a typhoon, otherwise known as a violent tropical storm. Now, Luke told me I was coming at the end of the rainy season, but I didn’t realize that a tempest of biblical proportions was in the works.

Although I have to say, now that it’s all said and done, that I’ve been in harder rainstorms on summer afternoons in Boulder, and experienced winds of much greater speed and strength on Eagle’s Nest Ridge in Vail, so I wasn’t totally overwhelmed by this storm (though I hear it wreaked havoc on the Okinawa island chain).

But it was a good day to stay inside, so we rented tons of movies, bought a bunch of food (the supermarket here is a whole other story☺), and holed up for the weekend.

The typhoon hit early Saturday morning and lasted all day, with signs of clearing by late evening. At one point, we decided to venture out – definitely check out the photos. It was pretty crazy!

In spite of itself, Typhoon Man-Yi brought the sunshine - thank goodness! Sunday morning was bright and beautiful for the first time since I arrived. This place looks totally different in the light and I finally got a look at the local volcano, Kirishima. This was definitely a day for the beach . . .

Check out my ride!

Before I go any further with this blog, I absolutely must share something that has totally enhanced my experience in Miyakonojo. In my last post I mentioned hopping on my bike to go to Sushi Tora. Well, I would be hoofing it all over town if not for the beautiful emerald green cruiser Luke bought for me.

Yes, a brand new sparkling bike with a big basket was given to me the first day I arrived here. I absolutely love it! It is a dream to ride and it’s the perfect way for me to get around since there’s pretty much no shot in hell I would drive on the wrong side of the road.

Sushi Tora

As of last Wednesday, I still had not had any sushi – sacrilege, I know! But in all truth, there are many other equally important national dishes that have nothing to do with raw fish. Pork and beef are huge, and many places serve fish that has been grilled or baked. So, while sushi is an important part of the Japanese diet, it is not the be-all-end-all of culture and cuisine here.

Nonetheless, I still love it and I was dying to have some. So, Luke and I hopped on our bikes and went to Sushi Tora. I know, same name as our favorite sushi restaurant in Boulder – totally different experience!

First off, all the seating is right up next to the sushi bar. That’s because sushi in this part of Japan is almost always served “kaiten,” or on a conveyor belt. That is, all the little plates rotate around the restaurant and you just pull off whatever looks good. Check out my pictures to see how fast these guys make the sushi – they keep the belt pretty much full at all times.

And of course the other major, and most important difference, is the quality of the fish. That’s not to say that Sushi Tora in Boulder doesn’t serve up some excellent sashimi, but when you’re this close to many major fishing ports, the grade is much higher.

We snapped up plates of tuna, eel, salmon and even fried chicken (they LOVE fried chicken here – I’d say it’s as common, if not more, than fish!). I stayed away from the raw chicken, but other than that, we sampled most of what they had to offer. And when it’s all said and done, they calculate your bill based on how many plates you have in front of you and what design they are (plates are design/color-coded to reflect the price of the item).

Not only was this sushi experience second-to-none in terms of taste and quality, but it was extremely efficient as well. Very Japanese, it seems.

Matsuri or Octopus on a Stick

The Japanese festival experience is actually quite similar to a fair or summer celebration in the States. There’s dancing, performances, food, games, etc. Pretty typical festival stuff, with just a few minor differences: you’ve probably had a corn dog, right? Or some other meat on a stick? Well, they’ve got the same kind of thing here, but instead of an overly processed pork product, it’s octopus. That’s right, folks. Octopus on a stick. And people just go around eating this stuff like we would eat a hot dog.

I, after careful consideration, opted for the tamer, deep fried octopus ball. This festival fare is bite-size chunks of octopus dropped into a deep fryer and covered in a sauce and some cabbage-like garnish. Delish!

Our foray into matsuri culture did not stop at the food. We enjoyed a traditional fan dance, taiko drumming and the ritual shrine procession. Definitely check out the pictures to see the huge taiko drum that almost ran over me as I was trying to get a photo.

My favorite part of the matsuri? I could actually see everything that was happening! At 5’8”, I was on the taller side of festival-goers and very few people blocked my view. Pretty cool coming from America where there’s always some tall guy standing in front of you.

Obijo Castle

Waking up to sunshine on the other morning led us to plan a day at the beach. I put on my swimsuit, we packed a beach bag and Luke put his surfboard on top of the car. As soon as the engine started, so did the rain. We made a quick trip to the convenience store (a chain called Lawson Station that I am absolutely fascinated with, even though it is the Japanese equivalent of 7-11) to grab some snacks and reconsider our options, then it was back to Luke’s to unload the surfboard. Other beach accessories still in tow, we headed out to see where the weather might take us.

As is turns out, Obijo Castle is a good rainy day spot. Good, that is, if you have an umbrella, which we did, and are not wearing your beach clothes (read: short skirt and t-shirt over swimsuit), which I was – oh well. We forged ahead despite my scantiness.

Obijo Castle is the restored feudal estate of the _________family (still looking for the brochure we got, then Luke will have to translate). The main attraction is the mansion. This sprawling residence is literally covered in tatami mats and features several bathrooms, a large kitchen and sauna. Also includes plenty of samurai armor storage space. Surrounding grounds are incomparable.

In addition to the main house, there are several outbuildings you can visit, one of which houses a museum filled with kimonos, calligraphy and samurai relics. We sought refuge from the downpour in both the museum and in a smaller, but no less grand, home down the way from the mansion. The garden here is most impressive, but it was kind of flooded due to the rain. You can sort of get the jist from the pictures (see the Obijo Castle album).

Surrounding the entire property are massive, mossy stone walls. This stronghold, it is safe to assume, was built to protect the family from the warring samurai in the next fortress over.

After getting rainsoaked at the castle, we started our journey back to Miyakonojo, stopping for lunch along the way at a small restaurant in the country. I think we were the first foreigners to stop in there in a while, maybe ever, as they were all smiles, sort of beaming with wonder that we thought to stop in.

Onsen or Alone, Naked and Foreign

You know that cliché dream? You’re walking down the middle of the street naked and everyone is looking at you? This happened to me! Well, sort of. Check it out . . .

Our next stop was Yupopo Onsen. An onsen is a Japanese hot spring. Onsens come in many varieties – some are big, some are small; some are old and traditional, while others are new and modern. They are all designed to have a relaxing effect on mind and body, and nearly all of them are gender separated. There’s also very specific protocol that must be followed when preparing to enter the onsen.

The Yupopo Onsen is a big modern complex with two huge bathing areas – one for men and one for women. Since I was going in alone, Luke had to explain everything to me before we separated.

After getting strict instructions on onsen etiquette, I entered the women’s locker room – ALONE!

So, I walk in, and it’s kind of like when the bad guy enters the bar and the music stops playing. While I think that the women here are generally discreet, they made no secret of the fact that they were checking out the gaijin in their onsen.

I totally stripped down to reveal tan lines, tattoo and belly button ring – all of which are totally objectionable in Japanese culture. But no one would ever give you a dirty look or say anything. They stare, to be sure, but showing any discourtesy is considered even more offensive than whatever you’re doing to attract attention.

Anyway, I gathered all my toiletries and towels and headed into the bathing area. The first thing you do is scrub down – and I mean scrub. You have to be squeaky clean to enter the tubs. But there is no privacy in which to bathe, just a bunch of little stations with stool, tub, spout and showerhead. This particular onsen provides soap for hair and body (you even have to wash your hair!).

So, I looked around for cues and observed women taking a lot of time to be totally thorough and I followed suit, despite the exhibitionist quality of the whole experience.

After I sloughed off my gaijin filth, as it were, I looked around for a suitable first tub. I picked a warm, but not hot bath, stayed in there a few minutes and then went into a cold “exercise” pool. After that I made the huge mistake of getting into the electric tub (I don’t think I’ve yet recovered). When I got in I didn’t notice anything, but an old woman pointed to some jets on the side. I put my hand in front first and it seemed okay, so I moved my back over the panel and, “Owwww!” It shocked me from head to toe. I am sure the old woman got a good laugh when I bolted to the other side of the tub to escape the current.

After that I headed outdoors to try the open-air tubs. It was nice to sit outside, as the sun was actually shining just before it dipped below the horizon. Then it was back in to try the cold tub. This was, by far, my favorite – so refreshing.

Keep in mind that all the while people are looking at me like I’ve got three heads. Like it wasn’t uncomfortable enough to be naked, I’ve got women peeking around corners to get a look at me.

I finished up with a soak in a mineral bath that smelled like vegetable soup, and then to get rid of the smell, I hopped in a bath that had a stream of water overhead to massage your neck and back. It was fabulously relaxing!

Finally, it was back to the showers where I again washed up in public. I’d say the whole experience took a little over an hour and I can’t wait to do it again! I can see why this is such a huge form of recreation here – it’s social (if you have friends and can speak☺), it’s healing and relaxing, it’s cheap and it’s everywhere.

Sekino-o Falls

Saturday found us at what is labeled as one of the "Top 100 Waterfalls in Japan." Now, I don't know how many waterfalls they actually have here, but this doesn’t seem to be a label of distinction. Nonetheless, Sekino-o Falls is an impressive natural wonder.

It was unusually spectacular on this particular day thanks to the heavy rainfall over the last week or so (obviously, it started pouring upon my arrival in Japan). The water was incredibly high and the roaring river/fall was sending a continuous gust of heavy mist over the entire area. In fact, many sections of the footbridge were closed off due to flooding.

After getting soaked with mist (not that the humidity doesn’t do it to you anyway), we decided to stop in the gift shop and get some green tea ice cream. I have never had to eat ice cream so fast in my life. The minute we walked out the door it was practically melted and all I could do was quickly slurp it up, or risk losing it to the sidewalk (clearly, not an option☺).

Karaoke

I swore I would not sing karaoke. I wouldn’t want anyone to have to suffer through my rendition of Bright Eyes or Stand by Your Man. Luke will tell you without hesitation that I can’t hold a tune to save my life. Which is why, I believe, it was to his delight that that I publicly humiliated myself and thoroughly entertained others by means of this Japanese national pastime.

In my defense, I had just been through an all-you-can-eat, all-you-can-drink situation with an unruly crowd of Australians (they’re genetically coded for boisterousness). I can’t be held responsible for my actions.

Anyhow, Luke’s friend Tim (pictured above) negotiated our entrance into this dark little karaoke bar. I think we paid about ¥2,000 for two hours of karaoke, drinks and a bizarre selection of snack food. When we stepped inside there was a small group of older adults singing slow Japanese music. I think we ran them out with Jesse’s Girl, though they stopped to exchange pleasantries with us on their way to the door.

After that, we had the place to ourselves. It was just us, the proprietress, and her right hand man, both of whom seemed fascinated by the silly gaijin revelry taking place. Though at the end of two hours, I think they were ready to shoo us out the door.

I can’t lie – it was fun. I would definitely do karaoke again, not that I have a choice in the matter.

Izakaya

We met a couple of other foreigners, hence referred to as gaijin (the Japanese word for outsiders), at another local Izakaya. At this particular restaurant, a flat fee of ¥3,500 (about $25-30) is paid for all you can eat and all you can drink! I tried salad with pieces of sashimi, some baked fish, potato wedges, pig intestine soup and a bunch of other unidentifiable food. For drinks it was beer and shochu (the regional drink – a dry, distilled spirit) or chu-hai (shochu mixed with fruit soda).

Sitting right next to us was a gaggle of giggling Japanese women. They appeared to be on sort of a girls’ night out, making the most of their ¥3,500. While Japanese women seem very polite and subdued in public during the day, it’s no holds barred when they’re out on the town. (See picture above ☺.) They were absolutely loving Luke and his Aussie friend Tim who kept speaking to them in silly Japanese voices.

After dinner we got a ride back downtown via a service that drives your car for you. (Japan is a zero-tolerance country and they take drinking and driving very seriously. You simply don’t get behind the wheel, even if you’ve only had a sip.)

Then it was off to karaoke!

Kirishima Shrine

Kirishima Shrine sits at the base of a volcano by the same name. It is located in Kagoshima, the prefecture next to Miyazaki. Rainy and overcast, it was the perfect weather for experiencing a place such as this. The entire thing was shrouded in mist, making it very mysterious and kind of mystical.

There were very few people at the shrine, and certainly no other foreigners. We walked up a huge set of steps and passed through a couple of big gates to view the shrine. When we arrived, we participated in ritual hand washing, which is meant to cleanse you before you visit the shrine.

In front of the shrine itself, we made an offering of a few yen and said a prayer. There’s a very specific way to do all of these things – clapping and bowing and such, so it was good that I had Luke to show me what to do.

There wasn’t much else to do at the shrine, as it was so overcast that we couldn’t really take advantage of the ocean views or anything like that. So we drove back to Miyakonojo and my jet lag really set in – sooooo tired and out of it!

After a quick nap, I attempted to rally for a night out with some of Luke’s friends.

Konichi Wa

My computer is finally configured to the Japanese network at Luke's apartment! I have been here for nearly a week now, but haven't been able to do anything online as my computer, like me, apparently does not speak Japanese. And then last night, all of a sudden, something clicked. I can only hope the same for myself - at present I am the intellectual equal of a Japanese infant.

Regardless, I really like it here so far. I am in Miyakonojo, a town of about 180,000 on Japan's southernmost major island, Kyushu. It is located in a predominantly agricultural valley surrounded by rolling hills that are covered in the thickest, darkest forests I have ever seen. I can only assume that the foliage is so dense here due to the incredible annual rainfall – outrageous amounts of which seem to be falling since I arrived.

Miyakonojo is located about an hour away from the coastal city of Miyazaki, the prefecture’s namesake. Miyazaki is known as the Japanese surfing Mecca, and while I haven’t spent time there yet, I did fly into their airport, which features a runway that comes straight in from the ocean.

Speaking of arrival, I got here on the evening of July 5 after about three plane rides and 20 hours of travel. Luke picked me up at the airport and we made the hour drive from Miyazaki to Miyakonojo. After getting settled in Luke’s apartment (a small one bedroom with a tiny kitchen and living area, the kind of bathroom where everything gets wet, a very cool tatami bedroom floor and a balcony that’s main purpose seems to be for hanging clothes to dry – not that they do ☺), we made our way down to an Izakaya . . .

(If you feel obligated to read my blog, then I am sorry for the long post. If this is occupying a part of your boring day at work, then by all means, read on. Regardless, this will probably be my longest entry since I have so much catching up to do!)

My understanding of Izakayas is that they are sort of the Japanese equivalent of an English pub. They are pretty mainstream, average restaurants located in every neighborhood as a gathering place for the locals. Anyhow, this is where I had my first Japanese meal of gyoza (dumplings, only these dumplings were wrapped in chicken wings!), salad and something else – I can’t remember exactly what, some mystery meats, I think (maybe tongue?). The owner set up a special plate for us since it was my first night in Miyakonojo.

On Friday Luke had to go to work – he teaches English in public schools through a government-sponsored program. I spent the day trying to catch up on work, despite my lack of connection. When Luke got home we took off sightseeing . . .