Takatori Yama

A couple of weeks ago (if you've been following, I went on three or four hikes last week- that's why the last few entries all start similarly), I went with Takahashi-san's and Murata-san's group from city hall. They're the ones that like to get dirty and splash about in local rivers and along the seashore checking the quality of the water. I just can't imagine the group from my other three hikes getting too dirty.

Our destination was Takatori Yama (Hawk Mountain). It turned out that I only saw pigeons up there. Proud of my Japanese, I told the guy next to me that maybe it needed a new name, Pigeon Mountain. He wasn't impressed.

As usual, we stopped at a few points along the route to check out the water. If there's any fence jumping and bridge diving to do, Takahashi-san is our man!

Takahashi-san, at it again.

It's not quite like the floating huts I've seen on TV in Vietnam or China, but I wonder what it's like to live over this small river. During summer, I bet the bugs are terrible. Also, I can't help but suspect sewer somehow ends up here.

As usual, this hike had its adventurous moments. I think these moments are the most heartracing for me. I have all these grandparents scuttling around on rocks and I'm just waiting for one of them to fall and break a hip. It's very stressful! I bet their kids don't even know what they're up to.

There was a water tank at one of our little summits. It had this teensy lock on the gate and this warning for potential terrorists. I feel safer. That's why I only drink sake!

Here's the view would-be terrorists would have after being deterred.

(Folks, I'm not making light of the terrorist threat. I'm only making light of the light precautions that are in effect.)

I was walking down the trail when I heard Takahashi-san yelling, "Jory-san! Jory-san!" He was pointing around the corner of the big cliff I just rounded. Suddenly seeing the giant figure of a person startled me and the rest of the crowd had a good chuckle.

The lady on the right is the one that is bowing in the picture, above. She also tried to adopt me for the day, on a couple of occasions. She was really nice but I avoided her a little bit. I simply couldn't understand anything she said. And one time, she went on and on.

There was a spacious clearing near the summit of the mountain. Near the middle of it was a big rock. That's were we took our lunch break. That's Takahashi-san on the rock playing Lion King. He has to make sure we are all accounted for.

At the summit, there was a little observation tower. Here's the view down on our lunch rock.

This view from the observation tower shows the big Buddha. Can you find it?

How about now?

On the side of the mountain is a famous temple. It's nestled in a small valley and the access to it seems to be carved between these two rocks. It had a very private feel to it.

We were milling around, admiring the scenery, when the head priest opened his door and invited our entire group to come inside. Apparently, this was our good fortune. More than a few people passed me saying "Our good lucky!" We were then treated to a 30 minute speech on the history of the temple. Needless to say, I didn't understand a word. People are always telling me, "I bet your Japanese is getting better!" Yes and no. Yes, if you'd like me to order some food for you- no problem. I can even get us on the right bus or train. I can even talk a little sword or weather. But, I cannot discuss the history of Buddhist temples. Instead, I played a little game in my head. There was about twenty of us inside the temple. Half of us are sitting in seiza (how Japanese people sit). Even for most Japanese, sitting like this for an extended period of time becomes excruciatingly painful. I took it upon myself, to be the last holdout. I pitted myself against some veterans of the game. One by one, a lady over there would change positions. Next, the man in front of me changed to "Indian style." Finally, it was down to the last three. I couldn't even feel my legs. That's not true. I could feel they were still there because they were hurting. Suddenly, the priest concluded his story and invited us to come "behind the curtains" so to speak and look at all the artifacts up close. That was really cool, except I couldn't stand. Long after everyone else was up and about, I was finally able to shuffle forward. A few of the grandmothers asked if I was OK.

Deep in the Heart of Tokyo

Two Sundays ago, the J-folks treated us to a concert. We all flew to Dallas for an afternoon of country music. Not really. We actually headed to the 11th Annual Lonestar Picnic, in the Tokyo suburb of Tokorozawa.

It was a pretty entertaining day. I'd say the place to get into the country music scene is in Japan. As long as the music is close, you don't really need to have the lyrics down.

Here's a picture of the headliner: J.T. Kinehara. He almost looks just like George Strait. He really wasn't that bad and I have a copy of the CD he recorded in Nashville. It has one his own songs, She Called Me Japanese Willie.

However, this fella here was the closest thing to a Japanese Willie at the show. He even sang The City of New Orleans. I seemed to be the only one in the crowd that knew this tune. I don't think most Japanese country music fans stray too far from whatever's new and current. He's also the only act that had a harmonica.

Here's a picture of the Wildwood Roses. They were a pretty big hit, as the dance area quickly filled when they started singing. This is a shot of her doing some kind of Shania Twain thang.

I tried to use the digital zoom and get a closer look at her Twain thang, but only managed to get a shot of J-Pop. By the look on his face and the body language of the other two guys, I'm guessing her Twain thang was close enough to the real deal!

They are probably dancing to lines like "I'm fwom the countwy and I wike it that way," or "God [bwey] the day I discover you..." But the music was spot on. It was kind of strange. If you didn't really look at anybody, but just scan the crowd, it looked like any group of Native Americans or Hispanics, in Oklahoma, having a hoedown.

Apparently, this hipster's image of "western attire" is something different. It might be how they're dressing in west Harajuku. Incidentally, his group had the loudest whoopers and hollerers. They were also drinking the most.

These guys know exactly how real cowboys are expected to dress. The American flag guy had on Ol' Glory sunglasses and earrings. He was quite the glamourboy. The other one is just your regular rodeoer. I saw a couple of guys with what looked like cans of Skoal in their back pockets.

Here's J-Ma and Pa getting jiggy with it.

A little rodeo clown.

J-Ma going solo.

One of the three members of the "Wake Up Tulsa" dancing club. A lot of gangs were wearing their "colors."

J-Ma still going solo.

A Man in Black (he looked like a Japanese Lee Van Cleef) offering "Willie" some firewater, while an A's fan looks on.

This cowpoke was pretty drunk. He sat down behind me and gave me a shoulder massage for about 5 minutes. He kept yanking back and hugging me. He announced a few times that I was his new American friend. The people with whom he shared didn't seem to care. He had some basic English, because he works on a U.S. base. He made his kids come down and say "Hello" and "Nice to meet you." They later came back down to give me a rice cracker. His wife seemed like a good hearted woman that fell in love with a good timin' man.

Here we are! I'm wearing the only western shirt that I brought to Japan. She's representing, by wearing a ballcap with the face of OSU's Pistol Pete on it (At least Oklahoma was represented in Longhorn territory).

How does your garden grow?

If it's like mine, it grows by a couple of styrofoam boxes from the fish market, every couple of days.

As with most people, there is a strong tradition of growing a garden in my family. It doesn't have to be a sprawling acreage (though some in my family have had just that). It can be just one little patch of something. Anything will do, as long as it's edible (or at least the picture on the package of seeds, of what was supposed to grow, is edible).

This is the area of the yard that is now mine. It was pretty weedy until I decided to have a garden. Jpop was going to just spray the ground with weed killer. While he likes trees, bushes, and flowers, he seems to have a healthy disdain for grass. I'm not sure what the big deal is. Even if there was grass, it's not like it would take all of ten minutes, or less, to keep it trimmed (Today, I weedeated the grass that does grow and it took about 3 minutes).

Here's J-Mom putting out ant poison. Sometimes, the little tasks I do, domino into little tasks for them. This time, I uncovered some ants when I did some yard cleaning. She decided it was a problem. I'm not really sure what harm they were doing in the yard. I guess, ants are to Jmom, as grass is to Jpop. She's smiling, because she thinks I sneak around and take pictures of them doing weird things, to post on my blog. She's thought that ever since that early early post of mine, that shows Jpop sleeping under the coffee table. She tells all her friends that she has to always make sure she's wearing makeup, because she might end up on the internet.

We decided to plant a small garden. It was sparked by noticing some tomato plants on sale at the neighborhood market. We bought three tomato plants and two cucumber plants. I found a couple of old styrofoam boxes and began my garden.

The next day, J-Pop got wind of a garden in his yard. It turns out, that they love having a garden. They just never have the time to work it. What with their full time jobs and afterhours country dancing, I can understand that. They whisked me away to the Japanese version of Lowe's (D2) and we picked up some more potting soil, two more tomatoes, and some kind of red pepper things, and a couple of eggplants. Upon returning, Jpop showed me where all the yard tools are stored. He then disappeared into the garage to return with three more empty styrofoam boxes.

I made one more trip, a few days later to a different supermarket and picked up some sick looking eggplant and some green, red, and yellow peppers. I filled up the rest of my remaining spaces and put the sickly eggplants in their own pots.

A lot of people, away from home, look up at the stars or moon at night, and are comforted by the fact that their loved ones can look at that same moon, on the other side of the world. I found a different way. By working in my garden, however small it is, I can see my Dad. As it turns out, I spend a lot of time out there.

These rubber tabi boots are the most comfortable yard shoes, I've ever worn.

Jpop doing some yardwork on a different day. He can stand on top of a rickety 6' stepladder and the thing doesn't even shake. He stood up there and with an electric, telescoping hedgetrimmer, flattened out the tops of his trees. He could bend over, lean out, turn around, anything, and the ladder wouldn't move. As unimpressed as you are right now, go out and stand on the top step of one. If you can mimic his catlike agility, take a picture. I want to see it.

The Old Man and the Seaweed

Last week, I went on two hikes with the same group. The first hike was to teach us (us, being limited to those fluent in Japanese) what seaside plants are edible. The second hike was just a flower identification hike. Again, for me, they were just a couple of chances to stroll about and have a picnic with a group of elderly strangers. The group leader was the same for both hikes. To be fair, I'll admit that Noriko went with me on the first one. She was going to take notes so we could investigate the plants at our convenience. Below, are some shots from those two days.

From the second hike. There were pools of water, everywhere. The rocky area here is underwater during high tide.

That white building is somebody's seaside house. We walked by it later. They have a really nice view from their back porch.

Seaside View of Tokyo Bay

Navigating the rock path.

Our plant sensei is some kind of professor. He apparently knows a lot. He's also pretty funny. I guess. He usually had some extra info to impart and when he was done, everyone would laugh. Except for me. Sometimes I laughed, but it was usually at something else.

Here's another view across Tokyo Bay. Those mountains across the way are in Chiba.

Plant: Some kind of pine tree? I heard the word 'matsu.' I know a guy named Matsushima and the first part of his name means pine tree.

A man drying out wakame seaweed. All along this part were little piles of seaweed.

I had this bright idea to take a picture of all the edible plants and create a photo log.

As our walk sped up and the pictures proved too difficult to take with my camera...

...also, I was preoccupied with trying to take pictures of butterflies.

This man spoke English, rather well, considering he was 70ish and hadn't studied English since high school. He kind of wandered around and did his own thing (like me). Maybe he wasn't even Japanese! For the second walk, I was adopted by him. I like the beach towel, hanging up: Looking for the lost rhythm (or something).


Here's our sensei explaining something. I actually understood this time. On our previous hike, we harvested the root of this plant (hama daikon). It's called that, because you can prepare the root, similar to how you'd prepare an actual daikon (big white Japanese radish). After our edible plant hike, we went back to an Uraga City building and prepared some of our wild edibles for lunch.