GeoCaching

About a week ago I heard of a game that has apparently been going on for several years called GeoCaching. The idea is people hide little 'treasure' boxes out in the woods, then post the GPS coordinates on Geocaching.com. Using a hand held GPS and a few clues provided by the person who hid the cache, you're supposed to find it and add your name to the log book inside. There are also little treasures inside that you can trade for. There are literally hundreds of thousands of these things hidden around the world.

I used the website to look up caches near home and wasn't too surprised to find there were quite a few in Quiet Waters Park. So I dug my old GPS receiver out of the closet, downloaded some new software into my PDA and set out Saturday afternoon for a bit of exploring. On my first trip out I was only looking for one cache called "Bight's Overlook". I followed the coordinates and arrived at a place I know I've walked past dozens of times before.

The clue provided in the description said to look for a specific kind of tree and it took me about ten minutes to find it. Sure enough, hidden away in a camouflaged hollow was a little plastic box with a green GeoCache label on top. I opened it up and looked through everything. Since I'm not sure I'll be taking this up as a hobby yet, I didn't remove anything. I did sign the logbook before I put everything back in the box and hid it away for the next person to find.

It was a very long walk, about twice the length of my usual trips over to Quiet Waters, but the weather was excellent and I enjoyed myself a lot more than I thought I would. I logged my find on the website and planed another outing for Sunday morning. This time I'd try for one in the Greenbury Point Nature Center. Greenbury Point is located right across the Severn River from the US Naval Academy and is owned by the US Navy. It was once the location of a submarine radio facility, but that was decommissioned many years ago and now its a nature preserve and sometime training ground for midshipmen.

I've always wanted to go visit this place, but until I saw it listed on the Geocaching website I didn't know it was open to the public. It turns out there are lots of wilderness trails and plenty of nature to be seen there. The first cache I had printed out was called "Trev's 'Cannon'" and the GPS led me to a spot just off the trail. I'm pretty sure I found the 'cannon' right away, but try as I might I just couldn't find the cache. After spending over half an hour hunting I finally gave up and headed down the trail looking for the next one.

When I got to the coordinates I just looked at the spot and said, "You have GOT to be kidding me." The coordinates were behind a little duck blind used for observing, well, ducks out on the creek. But there wasn't much land behind the little building, just a shear drop fifteen feet down to the muddy water. I'm not the most sure footed person alive and being there all by myself I could just see me trying to climb back up that embankment soaking wet and probably with a broken hip to boot. I let this one pass.

Not to be totally defeated I did have a really wonderful walk along the Poet's Trail. So called because of the little plaques every couple hundred feet along the way with quotations about nature and conservation. I saw some deer staring at me, lots of squirrels getting ready for winter, trees ablaze with autumn's last glory, and a few delicate flowers hanging on in hopes of one last bee stopping by. It was a nice walk, but the caching was frustrating. The jury's still out on whether I'll keep this up, but I guess I'll try it at least a couple more times.

TT2 - Number 12, Anawalt, WV

For today's mission we enlisted the help of my uncle Phil and aunt Kay (hint: Phil is the tall one). We began with an easy trip to Monte Vista Memorial Park in Bluefield, WV where my mother's parents are buried. Finding them was easy and uneventful, but on our way out of the park I thought I spotted a memorial in the shape of a deer. As we drove closer, one turned into two and then five. They may have been standing as still as statues, but they were very much alive and dining on flowers left on the graves.

The next stop was Woodlawn Cemetery in Bluewell, WV. Aunt Kay had stopped there the day before and gotten a map from the office. The map was a little hard to follow and it wasn't long before we were lost. After turning around in a dead end road where they store the burial vaults I took over the map. We found the first two plots with no difficulty, the headstones were right where the map said they'd be, but then we went looking for my aunt Donnalee.

My mother's older sister was so smart she was advanced three grades in elementary school. She was bright and pretty and I've always wished I could have known her. Sadly she died at twenty-one when she was given penicillin for an infection. Our whole family is allergic to the blue mold antibiotic and Donnalee was the first to succumb to this lifesaver turned killer.

When we looked for her where the map said she would be, we couldn't find her. We tried the sections to either side. Uncle Phil remembered parking near a tree when he'd been there as a boy, so we searched around nearby trees. We looked for more than half an hour and found no sign of my aunt. Then just as we were about to give up, I noticed a marker in the shadow of a large black headstone. The sun had risen just enough to shed a little light on it and there she was.


After a quick lunch at a Tudor Biscuit World we left graveyards behind and went looking for my mother's birthplace. In West Virginia coal was king for a hundred years. Even though my grandfather worked for the railroad, the first house he could afford was in a coal mine company town called Number Twelve. Yes, there was a Number Eleven and a Number Thirteen, but Number Twelve was the one just up the road from Anawalt, WV. When the mine closed sometime after WWII the town literally disappeared from the map.

To get to Anawalt from Bluewell is perhaps ten miles as the crow flies, but if you're diving be prepared for twenty-five miles of twisty narrow road with a wall of rock on one side and a long drop on the other. I should mention here that the weather today was perfect, both sunny and warm. Also the fall colors were out in force, so the drive over Peeled Chestnut Mountain was beautiful and amazingly fun.

There isn't much left of Number Twelve. The name lingers on as 12 Bottom Road (that's how it showed up on my GPS). The old company store my mother remembers roller skating around is now an apartment building. There are some old company houses still in use among the trailer homes, but all of the houses on the hill where Mom was born have long since disappeared. Using landmarks and my Mom's memories we located what was probably the front porch of her house.

We let the Prius direct us back to Princeton and it took us over Elk Horn Mountain this time. Not quite as twisty, but the road was much steeper. The views were also more spectacular and left me wanting more. On the way out this morning we passed by Pinnacle Rock State Park. I'd never seen this place before and my mother hasn't been there since she was a teenager. After some whining, that wasn't really necessary since I was driving, we stopped to check it out.

The highlight of the park is Pinnacle Rock itself. A huge outcropping of bedrock at the top of a mountain, it is one impressive sight. There's a large picnic ground in its shadow and a half a dozen hiking trails begin and end at its base. One of the trails leads up the side of the rock itself to a magnificent outlook. The climb is long and steep and it helps to stop from time to time to pose on a handy boulder.

The climb was worth every huff and puff because the view from the top was spectacular! A fitting end to a gorgeous day in Wild and Wonderful West Virginia.

TT2 - Woodlawn Cem., Bluewell, WV

I want a sense of humor when I die.

TT2 - Grassy Creek, NC

Day two of the great Tombstone Tour II has come to a close. Our mission today was to return to Grassy Creek, NC and find my great-grandmother Spencer's grave site. It was the one place we were not able to locate last year. The big unanswered question was whether or not anyone had ever put up a grave marker for her.

This time out we enlisted the help of my mother's 2nd cousin, Evelyn "Maw" Barker, who still lives in the area. We got to meet her daughter Debby and (unfortunately for my feline fearing mother) Buster the cat. Once Buster was safely asleep in my lap, the conversation turned to family. We looked through Evelyn's photo albums, ate a sandwich in her kitchen and hit the road.

Evelyn had tracked the graveyard down to a Christmas tree farm in Grassy Creek. The hills in this part of North Carolina are covered by some of the most sought after fir trees on the east coast. Last year we passed by this one several times without realizing the graveyard we were looking for was right in the middle at the top of a hill.

After clearing it with the people we thought were the owners (they'd sold the land several years ago) we set out across the fields and a stream. The graveyard was at the top of a very steep, very long hill. We took it slow and stopped often, but everyone made it to the top in good shape.

The plot has not been tended in a very long time and is totally overgrown with blackberry and thorn bushes. A large tree once dominated the hilltop, but it fell over and buried many of the headstones several years ago. I decided to try a quick recon inside the fence and quickly determined Mom and Evelyn shouldn't try to come in. I found a path someone else had trampled through the underbrush and followed it as far as I could.

It was slow going, but eventually I began finding Spencer headstones. I snapped pictures as I went, calling out the names and dates as I found then. I was just about to give up finding my great-grandparents when I spotted two stones on the ground near the rotting old tree stump. I crawled carefully under a few brambles and found grandpa Troy.

After clearing away more thorny vines I found grandma Tish leaning precariously over her husband's fallen tombstone. I snapped a few pictures, confirmed that the year of her death was a year later than Mom thought and then began working my way back out. We headed carefully back down the hill to the car feeling pretty good.

We stopped at Evelyn's sister's house because she had a copy of my great-grandmother's obituary. That confirmed the date she died on and completed all the data Mom needed for the Spencer side of the family. We dropped Evelyn off at her house and headed back to base camp. We had diner with my uncle Phil and his wife Kay. Lots of great veggies and to top it all off, some of my uncle Phil's great chocolate cream pie. It was a good day!

The 3-2-1 Rule, Doesn't

Going over my journal for the Japan trip while I was in bed sick this weekend, I noticed that, totally without meaning to, I’d fallen into a 3-2-1 schedule just a few days into the trip. While a well accepted mode of existence for a weekend conference or convention, the 3-2-1 rule probably shouldn’t be followed for two weeks straight. It most likely had a lot to do with my catching a nasty head cold on the way home and still being illness prone a month later.

For those of you unfamiliar with it, the 3-2-1 rule goes like this: “In any 24-hour period get 3 hours of sleep, eat 2 meals and take 1 shower.” Due to circumstances seemingly beyond my control at the time I’d started sleeping only three hours or so very early in the trip. When your time on a vacation is limited and you have an enormous number of things you want to see or do, you can quickly fall into this trap. Try to get, at the very least, six hours of good sound sleep each day. Take naps if you must, but try and remember vacations are meant to be relaxing.

What with the difficulties in finding good vegetarian food and the lack of a companion to go to restaurants with I wasn’t eating regularly. Basically I’d eat the free breakfast that came with the tour package each morning. Then I’d pick up a couple of onigiri at a local convenience store and eat them late in the afternoon. By the time I’d drag myself back to the room at night it was too late to eat a meal and snack machines were few and far between.

Onigiri, if you are unfamiliar with them, are flattened balls of rice with various fillings in the center that are then wrapped in toasted seaweed. Looking like big sushi rolls, onigiri fill the same lunchtime role in Japan that sandwiches do in America. And like Americans, most Japanese now buy their onigiri at the combini. They come with all sorts of fillings, but the ones I was limited to were seasoned kombu (another seaweed) and pickled plums called ume.

Onigiri are quite filling, very nutritious, low in fat and convenient as hell. But they can’t replace the missing third meal. Be sure to set aside time to have dinner. It’s a great way to wind down from a hectic day and get yourself ready for all that sleep I’ve just told you to get.

With the exception of the night I spent on the train coming back from Nagoya, I did mange to get in a least one shower each day and more than a few nights I was able to follow that up with a nice soaking bath, but I could have done that more often. The point is a bath is more than just washing off the dust and sweat from the day’s adventures. It’s also a great way to deal with the stress as well.

Traveling is stressful! Don’t let your enjoyment fool you, missed trains, crowded buses, closed attractions and tired achy muscles all add up to a boat load of stress you don’t need on your vacation. Take the time to enjoy all that hot water the hotel heated up just for you. Let it loosen up those muscles and wash away the tension along with the grime.

What this is all leading to is this little bit of advice. It’s your vacation, slow down and enjoy it. Make sure you have more than enough time to do everything you want to do and still take good care of yourself. Or scale back your plans and figure on going again sometime in the future. Otherwise you’ll end up editing your travel journal from your sickbed, like me.

Pictures I Wish I'd Taken

Going back and looking over all the photos I took on my trip, I'm finding that there are a lot of pictures I don't have that I wish I'd taken.

Everyday Things

Vending machines! They are everywhere in Japan and I never took the time to photograph a single one. I'd heard about them before my trip, but the reality of there always being a vending machine within sight just didn't register until I was there for a few days. Then they became so commonplace that I started ignoring them. I regret not having snapped a few while waiting for a bus or something.

For those of you who don't know, Japanese vending machines fall into four categories. In order of prevalence they are: beverage machines; cigarette machines; phone card dispensers; and snack machines. I've heard about all sorts of other machines that sell everything from magazines to used women's panties, but I didn't see any of those things on my trip.

The beverage machines are very different from those we have here in the states. On average I'd say they sell at least twenty different items. Mostly cold drinks, but also hot ones and from the same machine. In order to do this the machines have to be huge, but they can often be found stuck in tiny little spaces that would normally go unused elsewhere. An average machine might dispense beer, soda (they had Coke Zero!), tea, flavored and unflavored water, sports drinks, juice, coffee and soup. That's all in the same machine, folks!

There's a whole list of other things I wish I had pictures of too. Like the plastic food outside the restaurants below Kyoto station. The automated bus stop signs that display where the next bus is and how long you can expect to wait. The Asian style toilet I had to use at the remote mountain rest stop on the way to Gero. The inside of a crowded train car or bus. The rows upon rows of onigiri lined up in the cold case at the combini. The list goes on and my memory card is only half full. What was I thinking?

People Pictures

I wish I'd taken more pictures of people. It's so easy to get Japanese people to take your picture that I forgot to ask them if I could take their's as well. Specifically I wish I'd taken pictures of the station attendants at Nagoya-eki who helped (or didn't help) me when I missed the last bullet train. I'd also like to have a picture of the three high school girls who were taking the survey outside Ginkaku-ji. Those are wonderful memories and I wish I had pictures to go with the stories.

I have a picture I took while waiting for a bus in Kyoto of a man working in a little shop making traditional grass floor mats called tatami. Looking at it now, I wish I'd taken the time to cross the street and talk to him. Maybe gotten a few close-ups of him and the mats he was making. It certainly would have been more interesting than going to the Manga Museum and finding it closed.

What it really boils down to is this; I need to loosen up and spend more time interacting with the people and places I visit. Tourism makes it so easy to walk around in a foreign place and never really touch anything. It's like being encased in a soap bubble, everything around you looks bright and shiny, but all you can smell is soap. I want my travels to be enlightening and that means seeing new places for what they truly are.

I want to meet people and see what they do every day that makes their part of this world so much different from my own. I want to discover what they have in common with me so that I will always know we are both human at the core. And I want to bring these enlightening things home with me so I can share them with the world in pictures and stories. That won't happen if the camera just hangs around my neck like so much bling.

Pappasito's Cantina, Austin, Texas

What happens when the company sends you on a business trip to Austin, Texas too soon after you've returned from Japan? Well maybe you end up trying to get the fruit out of the bottom of your sangria glass using the plastic straws as chopsticks. Beware though, your coworkers will probably find this hilarious.

There's No Place Like Home *

* Except Maybe Disneyland :-)

The phone rang at 4:00am and I dragged myself out of bed. After two weeks in Japan I'm fully in sync with local time and this is just too early to be getting up after a day of temple hopping all over Kyoto. I took a shower and packed the last few things into my bags. As promised the van showed up at precisely 4:50 and I was the first passenger on board. As we weaved through the dark streets of Kyoto it suddenly hit me that my Japan vacation was actually over. In that moment I knew I would be coming back, better prepared and for a much longer stay next time. That helped a little, but I still felt an overwhelming sadness at leaving this beautiful country.

We made several stops within Kyoto and eventually the van filled up. I'm starting to get used to being the only caucasian on the bus. Everyone had to give me the once over as they got aboard, but I just smiled and added them to my memory bank. We got on the highway heading south and drove for over an hour before reaching the airport. The Kansai International Airport is situated about 80 kilometers from Kyoto on the far side of Osaka. KIX is famous for being built on a man-made island in Osaka Bay. It's more than a mile offshore and access is over a very long bridge.

Once again I had to layover in Seoul, South Korea, only this time the airport was fully open. I'm still not impressed. The only shops are duty free stores where you can buy a gallon of Jack Daniels tax free, but you can't buy a bottle of Coke to save your life. I discovered all those special amenities for transfer passengers (showers, saunas, massage rooms, etc.) which were closed when I was here before are so expensive even the rich and famous might turn them down. I was very thankful to be aboard my 747 and heading back to the United States at last.

When you fly to Japan you lose a day crossing the International Date Line. I never lived last Wednesday, but now I get it back by having two Thursdays this week. So I had the unique experience of leaving Korea at 4:30pm on Thursday September 6th and arriving ten hours later in Los Angeles at 11:30am of the same day. I love time travel!

The plan was I would arrive in LA about an hour before my mother flew in from the East Coast. That was supposed to give me time to clear Homeland Security and trek across LAX to meet her, but I'd just finished Immigration and was heading for baggage claim when my phone rang. Mom's plane was ridiculously early and she was already waiting on the curb outside of a different terminal building.

Luckily the weather was nice so she had no trouble waiting the half hour or so it took my bag to appear and for me to walk from Terminal B to Terminal 1. We caught the shuttle to the Marriott Hotel and checked in. I wasn't sure if my jet-lag avoidance scheme was really going to work when I made these plans, so I'd set aside the afternoon as recovery time, which I didn't really need. I worked on my blog for a while and mom read the book she'd brought with her. We ate in the hotel and went to bed early.

In the morning we took the hotel shuttle back over to the airport to pick up the rental car. I checked the big board and went to the spot listed next to my name. Instead of the full sized car I'd requested there was a SUV in the spot. It looked like it hadn't been washed in a week and the interior was filthy. I went back inside to complain and without a blink they upgraded me to a sports sedan. I'm having the best luck with car rentals lately!

Friday was my Birthday so what better way to celebrate than a trip to Disneyland! I haven't been to the original park in ages and mom had never been here before. I knew the place had changed a lot when I pulled into the massive six-story tall parking garage. When I was here last there were just acres and acres of open parking lots. They've built a second theme park on those lots and all the cars park here now. The trams are the same though and riding them to the main gate is a nostalgic beginning to a Disney day.

The plan wasn't to hit all the wild rides today. Mom's not into that and I was way too tired, so we just walked around and did the easy fun stuff. Pirates of the Caribbean, Honey I Shrunk the Audience, and the So You Want to be a Princess stage show. One of the attractions I was really looking forward to, the Haunted Mansion, was unfortunately closed. They are turning it into a Nightmare Before Christmas themed attraction for Halloween, which I think is a great way to update an old favorite.

Eventually we ended up in Toon Town where we went through Minnie's House and ended up in line for a photo-op with Mickey. Okay, I admit it, I'm just a big kid. I was really getting a kick out of meeting Micky Mouse on my birthday. He even gave me a kiss on the cheek! I should mention that earlier in the day I'd been tagged by a cast member with a big pink button telling the world it was "Julie's Birthday". They also gave mom one saying it was her first visit, so we were both being greeted everywhere by cast members and guests alike.

We'd made the full circuit of the park and when we missed the Honda ASIMO Robot Show in Futureland by only five minutes I suggested we call it a day. We were both tired and hungry so we headed out and used the GPS in the car to find a really great Italian restaurant in nearby Fullerton. I still had the Birthday button on, so they brought me a cannoli with a candle in it after the meal. All in all it was a great birthday.

The next day we went to see my cousin and his family in Huntington Beach. We sat by the pool all day and even had dinner out there. This southern California lifestyle is pretty inviting, but before we knew it we were heading back to the hotel. I dropped off the rental car, we packed our bags and tried to get a good night's sleep. We'd taken an early flight home on Sunday, but had a longer than normal drive from BWI. Just to make the end of my vacation memorable there was a big accident on I-97, which had traffic backed up for miles in all directions.

At home, I dropped my big duffel bag in front of the washing machine, everything in there has been sweat soaked several times over. After a big welcome home hug, Mom headed back to her house and I was left alone with my laundry and my thoughts. Am I happy with the way my trip turned out? You bet. Do I want to go back someday? Of course, but not for a while. I have other places to go, more people to meet and other things I want to see before my feet touch Nippon's soil again.


When I do return, I won't be a stranger. Rather an old friend, come again to breathe in the many wonders of Japan and bask once more in her rising sun.

The Final Push

After leaving Daisen-in, I decided to take a break from temples and go visit the Kyoto International Manga Museum. Most people think of Tokyo as being the birthplace of modern manga and anime, but the father of them both, Dr. Osamu Tezuka, started out in Kyoto. His early works 'Astro Boy' (Tetsuwan Atomu) and 'Kimba the White Lion' (Janguru Taitei) were big favorites of mine as a kid and stirred my early interest in Japan and its culture.

I caught the bus to the subway and took it to the Karasuma Oike station. The only directions I had said the museum was "a one minute walk" from the station, but I had no idea in what direction. For once I lucked out and the museum was clearly marked, in English, on the station map. I went up to the street, walked about a block and there it was in all its glory. But this is my vacation we're talking about here so of course... it was closed for the week.

I kid you not, one of the places I most wanted to visit while in Japan was closed from the very day I arrived in Kyoto until the very day I was leaving. I suspect foul play and when I discover the fiendish cartoon villain who closed the best otaku attraction in Kyoto just because I was there, my vengeance will know no bounds.

Feeling a little disappointed, I went back to Kyoto station for some lunch and dropped into the hotel for a quick consultation of my maps and guidebooks. I ended up taking a quick nap while I was there so it was after three before I got back on the temple trail. My first target was Sanjusangendo Temple, which is known for its collection of 1000 statues of Kannon. I knew the place closed at five o’clock, so I thought I had time, but I was not prepared for the mobs of people on the buses that afternoon.

I’d had a taste of Japanese commuting on Saturday in Tokyo when I’d nearly panicked in Shinjuku. The late afternoon crowds flooding through the station were close to what passes through it on an average workday. I found it impossible to move against the massive flow of commuters pouring in from all over Tokyo making connections there. Ultimately I just let myself be carried along to the first subway platform I came to and jumped on the first train just to get out of there. A few stops down the line, at a less crowded station, I was able to sit down and catch my breath long enough to figure out some other way to get to my destination.

Kyoto has more buses than trains, so it wasn’t surprising to find them just as crowded on a Wednesday afternoon. But as we drew nearer to the Sanjusangendo-mae stop the bus became more and more packed. I was standing about halfway between the rear entrance and the front exit and with my extra height I could see the solid wall of people I’d need to wade though to get out. I suddenly realized I wasn’t going to make it before we reached my stop.

In fact, it was three stops beyond the temple when I finally worked my way to the exit. I got out of there, crossed the street and waited for a bus going the other way. The next two buses were so jammed full already I couldn’t even get on them, but the third was merely full. I worked my way immediately to the front of the bus and waited for my stop. By the time I finally got there it was 16:35 and it had taken me nearly an hour and a half to reach a place I could have walled to in less than an hour.

Walking the short distance to the temple from the bus stop, I already felt exhausted and was looking forward to a nice quiet contemplative experience. Instead I found a closed gate and a sign telling me the last tickets were sold at 16:30. In Japan when something closes at a specified time it really closes. Not five minutes too soon or five minutes too late. The gates barring me from the Sanjusangendo Temple were big, ancient and sturdy. There was no guard to argue with and although I could see people moving around inside, I knew shouting at them would accomplish nothing.

I sat on a bench outside the hospital across the street and considered my options. The Kyoto National Museum was nearby, but would probably be closing soon as well. The next temple on my list was Kiyomizu and I wanted to be there at sunset. I ended up just sitting on the bench for a while doing some people watching. There was a private school somewhere nearby and kids of all ages in matching uniforms wandered by in various sized groups. I knew from experience over the past few days that they would be trickling out of the school for at least the next couple of hours. School children in Japan work every bit as hard as their overworked parents.

Eventually I went back to the bus stop and waited for a 206 going north. It was already packed when I got on, but I worked my way slowly forwards to the great amusement of a group of young people. They laughed every time I shoved my way a little bit closer to the exit. As it turned out they were getting off at the same stop as I did. I didn’t see how they worked their way out of the crowded bus so easily. There must be a trick to it, but the secret still escapes me.

Kiyomizu Temple is built on the top of a hill in the eastern part of the city near the Gion district. To reach it you walk up a thriving little shopping street filled with souvenir shops and ice cream vendors. At five in the afternoon it’s also filled with delivery trucks. Trucks in Japan are much smaller than their American counterparts, they have to be in order to negotiate these narrow streets, but the names on them are familiar. Volvo, Mercedes, and Toyota to name a few, but despite their diminutive size they are just as imposing when they’re barreling down at you. I should mention that most side streets in Kyoto don’t have sidewalks, just a rain gutter and the entrance to the next little shop to jump into.

At the top of the street were a small parking lot and the main entrance to Kiyomizu-ji. From this point you couldn’t really see much, just a lot of steps and some impressive architecture. At the top of the steps were a wide plaza and a few more buildings. I followed the crowds and found a ticket booth in front of covered walkway. At the other end of the walkway were the main Shinto shrine and a path leading further up the hill.

I couldn’t help but notice all the young couples here. Mostly in their twenties and gathered in small groups of two or three couples each. It turns out Kiyomizu is the “Lover’s Lane” of Kyoto and they come here in droves at the end of the day. It was a little distracting to hear all the giggling and Japanese slang in this otherwise calm and reflective place, but it did show me that temples and shrines are very much a part of the Japanese lifestyle.

Kiyomizu is all about spectacular views. Built on the mountain top in 1633, the main structures weren’t excavated into the hillside, but rather placed on top of massive wooden lattice works that preserved the natural contours of the mountain. This was one place where I could have really used a tour guide. I had lots of questions and not even a Japanese sign to offer any answers. For one thing I couldn’t figure out why the pagoda only had three levels, usually they have five, or why this other smaller one lay in ruins just to the south. Still, wandering up and down the mountainside was a delight.

I loved all little Buddha statues at almost every turn. Each one was well tended and usually robed. Each one also had a little paper cup in front of it with a fresh offering of water. I especially liked this little group. Notice the two off to the left guarding the drain pipe.

I decided not to brave the buses again until later in the evening, so when I left the temple I decided to walk north into the Gion district. This is one part of Kyoto where you can still find traditional geishas and their apprentices, the maikos. I guess I was either there too late to catch them on their way to work or too early, but I didn’t see any as I walked down these narrow streets. Occasionally a limo filled with businessmen would drive by on their way to an ochaya, a traditional tea house, but the beautiful performers who would serve them that night eluded me.

Around 7:30 I decided I’d had enough and headed back to the hotel. I was looking forward to a quiet evening soaking in my nice deep furo tub. I stopped at a combini at Kyoto station and bought myself some final onigiri for the flight home the next day. I’m really going to miss just being able to go to the corner store and buying my favorite lunch. I make them at home, but they’re not as good and I can’t keep the seaweed wrapping as crisp as these commercial ones, which are wrapped in special plastic that keep the seaweed separated from the rice until you open them up.

I got to the room, dropped my pack on the bed and noticed the message light flashing on the hotel phone. I started filling the tub and then retrieved the message. My bath would have to wait for a while as I discovered I had a lot of packing to do in a very short time. The message was from the tour company. My bus to the airport would be picking me up at 4:50 in the morning. I was warned not to be late.

The Turbo Temple Tour

Wednesday was my last full day in Japan and I planned to make it a really full one. I had an early breakfast and headed for the subway armed with my day pass, a walking tour map and a bus map. The Kyoto subway system is nowhere near as comprehensive or complex as Tokyo's. It consists of one main north-to-south line and a few branch lines radiating out into residential areas. To really get around downtown Kyoto, where most of the temples are, you need to use the bus system which is quite extensive.

My first stop was Ginkaku-ji, a beautiful little temple in the northeast corner of the city. I started out taking the subway to the Kitaoji bus terminal where I needed to catch a number 204 bus heading east. What I didn't realize was all buses entering the terminal use the same platform whatever direction they're going in. The only way to tell if one's going east or west is to check the sign on the front of the bus as it's pulling in. Of course that part of the sign is in Kanji only so I had about a 50-50 chance of getting on the right bus. Do the math.

After going a few blocks in the wrong direction, getting off, crossing the street and waiting for another 204 to come from the other direction, I was on my way at last. I was glad I'd taken a tip from our tour guide the day before and purchased a little black umbrella. It really makes a difference, especially when you're standing in the hot sun waiting for a bus to come.

Getting off at the right stop is made easier by the fact that all stops near famous temples are repeated in English. All you really need do is listen for the English announcements and ignore the rest. The buses rarely take you right to the temples. Usually you have an extra one or two kilometer walk through the neighborhood surrounding the temple.

I'd come to the conclusion that Kyoto was just as grimy as Tokyo, at least from what I'd seen so far. The guidebook descriptions of tidy little streets swept clean every morning by the residents and shopkeepers just didn't seem possible in a big dirty city full of commuters. But the walk to Ginkaku-ji changed my mind. The streets were indeed very clean and there were in fact people out sweeping and washing them down. I walked along this tree lined path for quite a while before realizing the babbling stream beside it was in fact a drainage ditch. The water so clean and fresh looking you could clearly see the rocks along the bottom.

The temple itself is a wonderful place. The main building is rather small and inaccessible, but the gardens are what I'd come to see. Since this is a Zen temple there were the requisite rock gardens with their carefully raked sands intended to portray waves upon the waters of life. Beyond these however was a hillside covered in wonderful little moss gardens. A display explained there were 48 varieties of moss used in the gardens and it left me wondering at the many colors and shapes of moss I never even knew existed.

The path wound its way up the hillside, sometimes quite steeply as you can see, but at the top I was rewarded with a great view of the temple and the city beyond. On the way back down I noticed several men out in the woods carefully pruning each and every tree. Nothing in these gardens is left to grow wild and this careful attention to detail has been going on non-stop since the temple was established in 1482.

As I was leaving the temple and descending the steps, I noticed three girls at the bottom wearing high school uniforms. They each had a clipboard and appeared to be asking people questions as they left the temple. It's not unusual for Japanese school kids to be given homework and projects over their summer holiday and that's what these girls seemed to be doing.

When they saw me coming down the stairs their eyes lit up and they became excited. One of the girls began searching madly through the papers on her clipboard while the other two whispered to one another. By the time I reached the bottom they were all ready and approached me as a group.

"Would you answer some questions for us, please?" One of them asked in well practiced English. "Certainly," I said, "what would you like to know?" They looked at each other like they'd just scored the winning goal, but then frowned. I guess they hadn't practiced any more English than that. The one with the clipboard finally held it out to me and asked, "Could you write answer, please?"

"I'd love to!" I took the clipboard and they all bowed. the first question was, "Where do you live?" In big, easy to read letters I wrote, "Annapolis, Maryland, USA." That earned some wide eyed stares and approving nods from the girls. The second question was, "What is your primary method of transportation (train or bus)?" Now they might have wanted to know how I got to the temple that morning, but I thought it would be more fun to answer it literally. I wrote down, "Personal automobile."

This seemed to take the girls by surprise and they furrowed their brows. I guessed these words were not on their lesson plan, but I'd written them clearly enough that they would have no problem looking them up in a dictionary. Even so I decided to add a bit more, so I wrote down,"(Toyota Prius)." This earned me gasps from all three of the girls. I just smiled and continued on to the last question, "What are you planning to do for the rest of today?" I made it simple for them, "Visit more temples in Kyoto."

I handed back the clipboard and they thanked me several times over in English. Just this once I didn't try to speak Japanese and let them think they'd hit the mother load with an average American tourist. I hope they get a great grade on whatever sort of project they were doing. I didn't see any other foreign tourists around Ginkaku-ji that morning, so I suppose I really was something special for them.

Next it was back on the 204 heading across town to the Ryoan-ji temple complex. This is the headquarters for most of the Zen sects in Japan. It's a large collection of temples, schools and monk's residences. Most of it is closed to the pubic, but you can walk around and look. From the amount of foot traffic going by I'd say most people in the northwest corner of Kyoto just consider it part of their daily commute.

The first temple I found open was the Ryogen-in, which remarkably allowed photography in the building and gardens. This was a nice little temple and very representative of Zen temple throughout Japan. It has five gardens in all, including one that's done with moss rather then sand. The main statue of Buddha here was sculpted in 1250 and the temple dates from 1502, making it one of the oldest in Kyoto. I didn't get to see the Buddha, as it is only open to the public at certain times of the year.

I did get to see a beautiful Buddha in the main temple hall, but there were signs requesting no photography there. Not that I would have wanted to snap many pictures, I was much too caught up in the moment. This is a powerful place, a place for introspection and quiet contemplation of self. I stood there for a very long time, just soaking it in.

As I wandered through the complex I happened on this collection of Jizu statues. Jizu is a Buddha said to be the guide for travelers and children. The tradition is to place a statue of Jizu here in remembrance of a miscarried or stillborn child. Some of them are ancient and some were obviously hand carved by grieving parents. Many are still lovingly attended with fresh red robes, incense and offerings of water and rice for the child who never had a chance to live. I took a few pictures here, said a few prayers and then cried for a while.

As I continued to warder around, marveling at the many buildings and a bamboo forest planted right there in the middle of Kyoto I was at a loss for what to do next. I felt there was something else to see here, but everywhere I turned were signs, in English, saying "No sightseeing!" I was about to give up when a blue dragonfly zoomed up in front of me. If you know me you know I have a special relationship with dragonflies. Whenever I'm about to take a wrong step or don't know where to go, one will usually appear to show me the right path.

This little guy hovered there expectantly until I finally said, "Okay, where should I go?" He promptly zoomed off down the path and then turned to the left, disappearing down a side street. When I got there it looked like a path leading to one of the temple's back exits, but I usually regret not following the dragonflies so I headed down the road. At the end, just before the gate, was a little sign which was only visible if you were standing right there.

"Daisen-in Temple, Zen Gardens Open." This temple is a little larger than the Ryogen-in I'd visited earlier, but more importantly this one had monks in attendance. I took off my shoes, walked in and paid the entrance fee. I was standing there reading through the pamphlet when a shaven headed, blue robed man walked up to me and asked, "Europe or American?"

"American," I replied. A big smile played across his face and in very good English he said, "Good, about time you showed up." I had no idea what he was taking abut, but he proceeded to give me a full tour of the place. I couldn't figure out why he was doing this for me and ignoring all the Japanese tourists milling about. But later after he'd showed me around and wished me well, another monk appeared and gathered all the other tourists together in the main garden and proceeded to give them the same tour the other monk had given me, only in Japanese this time.

I tried to find the first monk again, but he'd vanished. I have no idea if it was fate that put the only English speaking monk in the place there at the same time I was or if maybe the dragonflies led him there too, but I'm thankful nonetheless. He made this a wonderful and educational stop. I left the Ryoan-ji temple complex a little mystified, but very happy.

To be continued...

See Kyoto or Die Trying

After breakfast on Monday morning I joined the rest of my tour group in the lobby of the hotel to checkout and catch the bus for Tokyo station. At first I thought it was a little silly to bus the whole lot of us all the way across town to catch a train we could board within walking distance of the hotel. After watching us stumble aboard the bullet train, blocking the aisles and fumbling to put away our carry on bags I understood there was just no way we'd get a group this size boarded in the scant one minute it stops at Shinagawa.

The ride to Kyoto was quite familiar and I was feeling more than a little deja'vu as we stopped briefly in Nagoya. All our bags had been collected at the hotel that morning and were being sent separately by truck from Tokyo. So when we arrived and were met by our guide, she just walked us through the station, out across the street and into the hotel lobby. Only about half of our rooms were ready and of course mine wasn't one of them.

I headed back across to the station and started scoping out the neighborhood. Like most train stations in Japan, even the smaller ones, Kyoto has a shopping mall under the tracks. The section closest to our hotel was made up of little restaurants serving various types of local cuisine. Outside each one is a collection of lifelike plastic reproductions of the food they serve. This is great for foreigners because you can just drag the waitress outside and point to what you want.

At one of these little shops I spotted something I'd been waiting for this whole trip, omurisu! What's that? You've never heard of omurisu? Can it be that you've never experienced the culinary marvel that is rice cooked with ketchup and served inside an omelet? Such a pity, for it is one of the world's great comfort foods and it belongs to the Kansai region of Japan.

I stepped inside the little koryouriya and breathed in the air of authenticity. The smell of stale cigarette smoke and hot oil hung in the air, the aftermath of a busy lunch hour. I sat down and confidently placed my order including the request for no meat. This only raised a weary eyebrow on the proprietress' face as she called the order back to the cook.

Within minutes a sunny yellow football was placed before me. I took the offered spoon and with a heartfelt "Itadakimasu!" dug in. Okay, so it's not gourmet food, but right then it was the perfect meal to satisfy my hunger and restore my soul. Japan may have delt me a harsh blow, but I was not down and out. Kyoto, city of 1600 temples, awaited me, but I needed a good night's rest before taking up the challenge once again.

I finished my meal, thanked both the waitress and the cook with a hearty "Gochisou-sama deshita!" and went off to find a combini. I stocked up on onigiri for the following day and headed back to the hotel. I was dog tied and knew I'd be able to sleep trough the afternoon and well into the night, but my legs really hurt.

Thank goodness the New Miyako Hotel had just what I needed. A furo is a Japanese soaking tub. The tub at my last hotel was European style, better than the lame excuses for tubs we have in the states, but still not the real thing. Having just been to the onsen I knew what a good long soak in a hot bath could do for tired achy muscles. I checked in, filled the furo with steamy hot water and crawled in. With a full tummy and relaxed muscles I went to bed and fell right to sleep. I'm not ashamed to say I slept the whole afternoon away and then through the night. Hey, I needed the rest!

In the morning we were met in the lobby by Maeda Machiko-san, a dynamic bundle of energy with a black umbrella and an answer for every question. She hustled us into the bus and we set out for our half-day tour. First stop was Nijo Castle, built in 1602 and famous for its "nightingale" floors. The floorboards surrounding the central rooms are loosely attached to the supporting joists with little metal brackets that make a chirping noise as you walk on them.

The walls of the inner rooms were covered in gold leaf and then painted with expansive murals by some of the greatest artists of the period. Above these panels, huge lattice panels were carved from solid planks of cedar over a meter wide and a foot thick. Unfortunately photography is not allowed inside the castle to protect the delicate paintings, but there were some mighty pretty gardens out back.

Next we went to Rokuon-ji, renowned for its 22-caret gold leafed main pavilion. Built in 1394 by a retired shougun it became a temple upon his death. Based on other blogs I'd read I was all prepared to be unimpressed with this place, but in spite of all the tourist trappings it was really beautiful. I think this is one of my best photos of the trip.

Finally we were dropped off at the Kyoto Handcraft Center. This was little more than a glorified souvenir shop, but they did offer duty-free discounts on large purchases. Most of the stuff I bought here I could have gotten anywhere in Kyoto, but I decided to get all my shopping over with in this one place. Luckily there was a post office just down the street where I could replenish my cash reserves.

They offered a shuttle bus back to the hotel so I stayed after the tour group left. I was planning to drop everything off at the hotel and then hit the streets to see a few more temples, but when I got back to my room and took off my walking shoes I noticed a sharp pain in my right foot.

When I went to Nagoya on Sunday it was with the expectation that I wouldn't be doing much walking. I wore my sandals that day not knowing events would send me walking back and forth across Nagoya station all night long.

By Monday morning I had some nasty blisters which I couldn't do much about until I got back to Tokyo. I put blister pads on the two I could see, but missed one on the side of my foot. By Tuesday afternoon it had become a nasty oozing infected mess. One thing I'd forgotten to bring along was Neosporin, so with my trusty Langenscheidt pocket Japanese dictionary in hand I set off to find a pharmacy. Long story short, the only anti-biotic salve they've got is called Eltacin and its behind the counter so you have to talk to a pharmacist to get it.

With a sore foot I wasn't about to go out temple hopping, so I settled on a little preparatory excursion to the subway. I found a station attendant willing to help me buy a one-day tourist pass from a ticket machine. These are great because they let you ride any bus or subway for a 24 hour period for just 1200 yen. Quite a deal if you plan on seeing temples at different points around the city.

I finally ended up at Kyoto Tower. Certainly not on my "must see" list of attractions, but it was conveniently located across the street from Kyoto Station and short walk from the hotel. The 131 meter tall tower has been a controversial part of the Kyoto skyline since 1964. I got there just before sunset and was rewarded with some great views of the city from the 100 meter high observation deck.

On the way back to the hotel I stopped off for another helping of omurisu, this time from a different place and it was even better than the first. I took another long soaking bath and put more Eltacin on my foot. I went to bed watching a 'Death Note' anime marathon on TV. I can't say I understood much more than the basic storyline I'd heard about before, but the animation was impressive.

The Shuuden

"Sherman, set the Wayback for Saturday morning, September 2nd, 2007 at Shinagawa Station in Tokyo Japan."

"Golly, Mr. Peabody, what happened there?"

"The beginning of a very long trip for Juliet Carnell."

It was a simple mistake. I was buying my Shinkansen (bullet train) tickets for my Sunday trip down to Nagoya and back. Somewhere in the process of answering a dozen or so badly worded English questions I failed to tell the machine I wanted to come back on a bullet train as well. I took the incorrect tickets to the counter and spent the next twenty odd minutes speaking very confusing Japanese and English to three JR ticket agents. They finally convinced me I needed to give them 4600 more yen and they would give me the return ticket I needed.

I handed over the pretty blue paper and a few coins and they gave me a ticket for the 10:25pm Shinkansen out of Nagoya on the following evening. Go back to the last entry for my touching description of a wonderful day filled with new experiences at the hand of my old friend Nami. We last left our heroine at the gates to the JR tracks waving goodbye and looking forward to a restful high speed return to her hotel in Tokyo.

I put the tickets (one for the standard roundtrip fare and another for the bullet train) into the turnstile and marched through. I went up to the platform with plenty of time before my 10:25 departure. The platform was crowded but emptied out when a Shinkansen arrived at 10:09. It pulled out precisely at 10:10pm and I waited for my train to appear on the big electronic sign. Instead a man in uniform appeared and began turning off the escalators and lights.

The next twenty minutes had me trying to ask every uniformed person in site: A) "What happened to the 10:25 Shinkansen that I have a reserved window seat on?" B) "How am I supposed to get back to Tokyo before my tour group leaves for Kyoto in the morning?" and C) "Does anyone around here speak English?"

I ended up at the JR fare adjustment counter with a young woman who's idea of speaking English was adding English nouns to Japanese sentences and four guys behind the counter who were more interested in how I came to have a valid ticket for a non-existent train than how I was going to get back to Tokyo. They suggested I wait and take the first train in the morning, but that would be too late. Not to mention I had nowhere to stay in Nagoya.

The girl kept telling me, in Engrish, that there was another train, but for some reason, "You can't get on that one." Finally the stationmaster showed up. He barked a few orders to the guys behind the counter who jumped all over themselves to give me a refund of the 4600 yen I paid for the Shinkansen ticket. Then he took out a radio and barked more orders into it. The only words I could pick out were "English" and "right now'.

Within two minutes a tiny young woman, who looked like she was right out of high school and wearing a uniform so new you could see the creases from where she took it out of the bag that morning, came running up. She listened to the stationmaster for a minute then turned to me and said."Very sorry. Overnight train is reserve only. You can't get on that one... unless you pay for reserved seat."

"How much is that?"

"Extra 510 yen." That's only about $4.50

"These guys just gave me 4600 yen, why didn't they take the 510 yen out of that and give me the ticket?"

She looked at her boss, then at the guys behind the counter. "They are idiots."

I handed the idiots two coins and they gave me a ticket for the Moonlight Nagara, a local train that left Nagoya at midnight and arrived in Shinagawa at 5:00am. The stationmaster made the poor little girl bow and apologize to me, but I could see in her face that she'd been bumped up a notch on the stationmaster's list of useful people. I returned the bow and headed for track two to await my long ride home.

I managed to get a little sleep on the Moonlight Nagara in spite of them leaving the lights on all night and the train stopping at every single little station between Nagoya and Tokyo. At just after 5:00am Monday morning I trudged up the hill from Shinagawa station to my hotel, packed my bag for the trip down to Kyoto and headed for breakfast. I was tired, but happy to be where I was supposed to be, when I was supposed to be there and with someone else in charge of the Shinkansen tickets for the next stage of the trip.

"So what went wrong, Mr. Peabody?"

"Juliet almost missed the shuuden."

"What's the shuuden?

"It's Japanese slang for the last train of the evening."

"But she did miss the last bullet train of the evening, Mr. Peabody."

"Really, Sherman, even you should know to always listen carefully to the Moonlight Shuuden Aid."

Meeting Friends

There's a tradition in Tokyo that when you want to meet up with someone , you tell them to meet you by the statue of Hachiko in Shibuya. Hachiko and his owner Uyeno Eisaburo moved to Tokyo in 1924. Every day the faithful dog would follow his master to the train station in Shibuya and wait for his return. One day in 1925 Uyeno-san took ill at work and died. Hachiko never left the train station. He continued to await his master's return until 1935 when he too died on the very spot where he last saw Uyeno-san alive. He'd become so famous by then that a bronze statue was erected in his honor. That's me standing next to Hachiko making the national symbol of Japanese kids having their photograph taken.

While in Tokyo I'd planned to meet up with three friends. One American who has been living in Japan for a long time is a Second Lifer named Duzzy Ryder. I'd met Duzzy just a week before while he was in Washington for a conference. We met up on Friday night and visited Shibuya and Shinjuku. I was looking for a new cell phone with a camera, but we found that all the phones here are locked to the company that sells them. We had fun window shopping though the electronics stores. They are like Best Buy on steroids.

On Saturday I met one of my original Japanese pen-pals. She works in Tokyo and loves Italian food, so we met at Tokyo Station and ate at a little bistro across the street. My Japanese really isn't good enough yet to hold a conversation and unfortunately her English is almost as bad. So we didn't have a lot to say to one another, but it was really wonderful to meet her at last and the food was great. I was very glad we got together and hopefully next time I'll be able to hold up my end of the conversation.

On Sunday I abandoned Tokyo altogether and headed to Nagoya by bullet train to meet Nami. Also one of my original pen-pals, Nami and I met when she came to Baltimore to meet with her boyfriend, who is now her husband. I've been telling her I would come to Japan one day and she's been telling me that when I did she would make it a trip to remember. She certainly did that by booking us on a tour to a Japanese onsen resort.

An onsen is a natural hot spring. Japan being a volcanic island is covered with them and the Japanese have used them for centuries not only to bathe in, but for their healing powers. The minerals in the water are supposed to be good for all sorts of ailments, but it is the bathing process itself that has the most profound effect on the Japanese. This ain't no hot tub, it's a bath tub and you don't wear a swimsuit to take a bath.

Before she made me strip naked in front of a couple of dozen anorexic Japanese women, Nami enjoyed her favorite part of the resort, the buffet! This sort of dinning is not common in Japan and when Nami was in Maryland I took her to a Chinese buffet in Catonsville. When I was struggling to finish my third plate, Nami was going back for her seventh. She kept up her world class standing by downing plate after plate of crab legs at the onsen. We were the second table to be seated and the last one to leave. Where she puts it all is beyond me, I gained weight just walking into the room!

Then it was up the side of the mountain in an elevator to the baths. I know some of you (Rocket) are going to be disappointed, but I wasn't allowed to take pictures in the women's bath. Let's just say that I wasn't the only over weight person there. The baths are on the roof of the resort and open to the beautiful mountainous scenery. Sitting there in very hot water watching clouds roll over the peaks like liquid snow was something I'll never forget.

Oh, did I mention I was the only Caucasian within a hundred kilometers of the place? I couldn't have done this without Nami. She and I sat there chattering in English while the other women did the same in Japanese. It all seemed perfectly normal somehow, but I'm sure some of the women would have preferred I not be there. I just ignored the stares and tried not to faint from overheating. The water was really, really hot!

There was a mix up over the time when the bus was coming back to pick us up, so we got a free drink at the bar and Nami got some money back at the end of the trip. She and I finished off the evening with a curry dinner at a nice Indian restaurant in downtown Nagoya. We said goodbye at the station, hoping to hear from one another real soon. Nami heard from me again sooner than she expected.

To be continued...

Shopping Around for a Tokyo Bus Tour

Yesterday I went on the included bus tour of downtown Tokyo. As expected it wasn't all that great. When we got to Tokyo Tower, the 333 meter tall replica of the Eiffel Tower that has been destroyed over and over again in countless Godzilla movies, it was raining. This meant looking out from the 150 meter high observatory was mostly "In this direction, on a clearer day, you could see Tokyo Disney Resort and in this direction, on a clearer day, you could see..."

The rain stopped and the sun came out when we left Tokyo Tower and moved on to the Imperial Palace, which is as you might imagine closed to the public right now. It has a handsome moat though, if you're into moats

We drove around for a while and got caught in traffic jams in some of Tokyo's more famous districts: Ginza, renowned for its high end shopping; Sibuya, renowned for its slightly less high end shopping; and Akihabara, renowned for its decidedly not so high end shopping.

Finally we stopped in Asakusa, home of the Sensoji Temple. The Senso-ji ("ji" means temple by the way) was founded in 628 CE when two fishermen pulled a religious statue out of the Sumida river. Rather than ask why someone would throw a perfectly good statue of the Kannon into the river, they decided to build a temple in its honor. This is probably one of the most visited Buddhist temples in the world, being right in the middle of Tokyo and all.

The building behind me in the picture is the Gokuden where the statue is housed. There are about a dozen other buildings at the site, including a Shinto shrine. Leading up to the Gokuden is a two block long shopping street crowded with little souvenir shops and food stalls. I was tempted to blow the budget many times, but managed to hold onto most of my yen when I discovered just about everything for sale here was made in China.

The bus tour ended and we went back to the hotel via several more famous shopping districts. There ARE other things to do in Tokyo besides shop, I swear it, and I'll write about those just as soon as I finish shopping for a cell phone with a camera in Shinjuku.

The Not So New Prince

I'm all checked into the New Takanawa Grand Prince Hotel near Shinagawa Station. The name is something of a misnomer as the hotel is anything but new. In fact its a little rundown and careworn, but the service makes up for it. Check out the freebies in the bath. Two of everything including a razor, toothbrush, comb, shower cap, Q-tips, bath gel, shampoo/conditioner and just in case you don't like the combined stuff regular shampoo and separate conditioner. Holiday Inn eat your heart out!

After settling in, getting hooked up to the internet and sending a few over due e-mails, I set out in search of the nearest youbinkyoku (Japanese post office) where they have an ATM I can use. The clerk at the front desk was very helpful giving me direction, but a little confused by the map she dug out from behind the counter. When I pulled out my printout from Google Earth her eyes lit up and she started showing me everything in the neighborhood. I had no trouble finding the tiny shop and getting some money.

Opps, I forgot to post this last night. I slept very well, no jetlag apparently! Woohoo!

Hell is an Airport Named Incheon

Never again will I book a flight that has me laying over in a place like Incheon International Airport. This place is huge and especially designed for people making connecting flights from all over Asia. They have a gazillion duty-free shops and all sorts of special services for transfer passengers like massage rooms, showers, free Internet terminals. All of which are unaccessible before 8:00am.

Unfortunately I arrived at 5:00am. I was doing really well up to that point. I think I'd managed to reset my internal clock about as well as can be done. It was early in the morning and I felt like it was early in the morning. I was awake, alert and ready for adventure. There just wasn't any to be had in Korea. For one thing they wouldn't let me out of the airport, no that's not severe enough, they wouldn't even let me out of the security area of the airport. I did manage to find one sympathetic immigration official willing to stamp my passport, but then I had nothing to do for several hours.

There were a couple of Internet terminals working, but these had been commandeered by a pair of German tweenies who were hard at work trying to load Warlord on them. One kid managed to crash his computer so he huddled up in front of the remaining one with his buddy and pretended not to understand what, "Excuse me, could you let someone else use the computer for a while," meant in English.

To make matters worse, my flight to Tokyo was delayed for an hour. Even the flight crew were mystified as we all stood at the gate and stared out at our airplane, parked just off the runway, about a hundred yards from the empty jetway. After endless phone calls and lots of arm waving, someone finally appeared outside to climb into the tractor and push the big 747 over to the gate.