THE TOP FIVE: #5 Drinking in the Street

For most of my second year here, I have had an ongoing list loosely rolling around my head. It was a list of my favorite things in Japan. The things that would be hardest to replace, and I would be missing the most. I am inside of my last ten days here. Time really does have a knack for moving fast. There are many unique things that I have experienced. Some well known, some less so. (As a side note: There are no people on the list. I have met some wonderful folks here. I just don't want to place people on the same list as things.) So here it is, straight from the east, we're going live, far from the least, its the Japan Top Five.

#5 Drinking in the Street.


I must admit some reluctance to having this on the list. Being able to have some alcohol out in public is not a cause I fight for, or something to write home about. But it is something that I will certainly miss. It is done well here. People go for a picnic and bring some rice wine. They have a beer at a parade or festival. Movie theatres have beer vending machines. It doesn't cause a scene. Its one more excuse not to sit in some overpriced smokey bar.

My second night in Japan, I was in Tokyo for orientation and we went out to dinner for a prefectural welcoming party, then to karaoke, then one of the ringleaders, a British guy, said "I know a place." So we followed him to a convenience store. He bought everything he needed to mix up some drinks, and a group of us proceeded to sit on the curb and chat until we realized the sun was up and we had to get back to our workshops.

That's something I am going to miss.

Tokyo Marathon 2010

A couple weeks ago, I ran in a marathon...

Sunday morning I woke up at 5:30. I was within walking distance of a race that was 3.5 hours away. I ate a quiet breakfast in the bathroom while my cheering section was still asleep in the hotel beds. Less than two hours to race time, I wandered out into the morning. I saw a man with a Tokyo Marathon bag, and followed him to the starting line. It was raining. We stood, stretched, and waited in the rain. I felt so weird standing in the middle of 35,000 strangers. I was a cold, wet, bundle of nerves. I did not want to stand next to these people. I wanted to run against them. I am generally a social person, but that morning the only way I could see communicating was by placing one foot in front of the other.

The gun fired and the clock started. Three blocks ahead I could see the confetti canons. We all cheered and slowly made our way forward. Upon reaching the starting line we could begin to jog. It took me a few miles to shake the desire to jog. It didn't feel like a race, the pace was far too relaxed. Anyone fast was way up ahead. I spent half the race trying to accelerate to my desired pace, and the other half maintaining it.

While I never took quitting seriously, it felt like an ongoing mental battle to stay in the race. My body was trained and was doing its job. Nothing was too sore. But my mind kept making suggestions. Everyone was having so much fun on the sidelines. I could be one of those people. No. I had to stay with it. Shut up mind. There was a sign to mark every kilometer. I worked out all the math of what fraction or percentage I had done. Converted it from kilometers to miles. Thought about what pace would put me where and what I needed to do to break my goal

It continued to rain. Rain can add some adrenaline to a five mile workout, but not so much to a twenty-six mile race. That's just wet. The greatest moment arrived as I turned up the street toward Shinagawa and I saw some of the leaders running back down the other lane. Right there it was evident how far ahead they were and how they were in a completely different league. I didn't mind all that. I was thrilled at the realization I was running in the same race as such world class athletes. I wasn't about to challenge any titles, I just want to share the same piece of asphalt.

In addition to the official race food provided along the course, families were handing out sweets and home baked goods. I never partook because I did not include food in my training, but the offerings to the runners were warmly accepted.

It was somewhere around my last few kilometers that the sun broke out. I didn't really notice. I just saw the road ahead. A few bridges into the Tokyo Big Site provided the only course inclines. I lost no stride pushing over them. I continued to count kilometers, but my sense of time as a whole seemed rather muddy. All of a sudden I was dashing through the finish line. After 3 hours and 50 minutes* I stopped running, and I experienced about ten seconds of weightlessness. Then it all got stiff.

Upon signing up for the Tokyo Marathon I set a goal of four hours. I beat that. In doing so, I also beat the time of my friend that encouraged me to sign up. He has informed me of his intentions to run again and beat my time. Once he does this we will go head to head in another race, likely in another country. We shook on this.


*3:50:43 from gun to finish line, but 5-6 minutes less from start line to finish line.

Patrick and I posing with a bunch of our cheering section. It was pretty great to hear my name and see a few familiar faces when I was in the middle of such a crowd. Big high fives to my friends that ran all over Tokyo and bounced from station to station to catch a couple glimpses of my run.

The medal seen around my neck is given to every person that finishes the marathon. I kept the medal around my neck for the following 48 hours, it only came off for showering.

Heading Down South

Saturday morning, 19th of December, I caught a flight out of Tokyo to Bali, Indonesia. My headphones did not work for the in-flight movie, but the flight was otherwise agreeable. My traveling companion was Jess, another ALT from my city. On arrival, we were hung up getting the Visas, and so we were the last to the luggage claim. The conveyor was stopped and our two bags were in the hands of three uniformed men. With an assertive nature the porters swept us through the final steps of the airport, nearly barking orders at us. “Hand over the pink slip here.” Exchange money there.” Then it was over and they asked for a tip. I rummaged in my fresh envelope of Indonesian cash and gave the man who carried my bag a pink bill. Then the other two put out their hands. Okay, two more notes. The cab ride was near an hour, and about halfway through I decided to count my rupies. My first observation was that the pink bill is 100,000 rupies, or $10. I gave three guys a ten dollar tip each. And so did Jess. $30 rendered for a (no lie) 100 foot walk through the airport, more frustrating than helpful. But that was the racket.

WELCOME TO INDONESIA!


The Airport is actually fairly close to the city center, but traffic gets pretty thick. I have no idea where so many people on scooters need be to going, but there they go. For the first few days we stayed at Sugi Bungalow in Kuta, Bali. Kuta is the tourism focal point of Indonesia. The spring break/Cancun/party central destination of Bali. We stayed about ten minutes of narrow street walking from the ocean. The hotel was a gated compound, complete with broken glass molded into the top of the fence. A pool, outdoor dining area, and a scattering of quaint bungalows gave little reason to leave.


For three days we hoofed it around town enjoying the international cuisine (lots of Mexican) and avoiding being made suckers. Kuta is a playground for tourists (mostly Australians) and a hunting ground for local vendors. I say “local” but it seemed that folks came from all over Indonesia to tap into this thriving tourism community. I have read that tourism has been down due to terrorism in the last decade, but it is hard to imagine there being many more people.



The beach is something else. A few miles of sand against the Indian Ocean. The sunsets are nothing short of amazing. The beach is well attended throughout the day, but especially at dusk the people pour out. And mostly locals at that. Its great to see people recognizing the good stuff that they have. But on the flipside, the beach and water are in a terrible state. Hundreds, no, thousands of fish are washed up dead on the shore. I don’t know what killed them, but I doubt it was kindness. In addition, garbage is everywhere. Not sure if its the locals or the tourists, but its bad.




I wanted to hang around the beach town to observe the Solstice. How grand it was to celebrate my second Summer Solstice of the year. The day loses a little flare being so close to the equator, but I enjoyed it just the same. Unlike those heathens in Japan who celebrate the Equinox. Dinner was at the Havana Club. Great food, good wine, and framed pictures of Che Guevara all over the walls. Then it was bedtime. The morning would include an early flight to Jogyakarta on the island of Java.

February 28th, 2010

It has long been a life goal for me to run a marathon. Yet I always pictured myself doing the race a bit further down the road. My friend Jackson did the Tokyo Marathon last year, and this year he put a little pressure on me to join him.

I applied back In August. I was notified of my placement in October. And today I started training.

I am fortunate for the race placement. I have heard about 300,000 apply, and 30,000 get in. To date, 10 miles is the furthest that I have ever run. I accomplished that feat ten years ago on a Saturday morning high school cross-country running practice. I now have 26.2 miles of Tokyo street to look forward to.

Since the start of October I have run most days. Now, under my 16 week training program, I am looking to run 5-6 days a week. It feels good. At present, my only concern is with my knees. I think I may have to do some additional strength training for them. I am not so excited about that part.

I’ll keep you posted.

Hello Again!

I have always relied on the kindness of strangers. This was certainly the case for my internet connection the last 15 months. Odds are, that my neighbors are not so kind as they are just slightly ignorant about modern technology. Specifically, insufficiently securing their wireless router, and thus providing free internet for the neighborhood. This worked out quite well for a while. Recently the connection has been growing more weak and less frequent. It made tasks, such as updating a blog, not worth doing. I finally just sucked it up and decided to pay for internet. It took a month and a half for them to hook me up, but here I am. It feels nice.

I am a fan of karma. One good turn deserves another. I am appreciative for the year of free internet, but I am not a fool. My router is secure, and there will be no squatters on my bandwidth.

Cambodia part 1

So long, June and July. Summer vacation in Japan is just August. I suffered half of my month to sit in the Board of Education office. There, we can work without actually having to work. And that is the worst part. Summer in an office is unfortunate. Summer in a workless office is hideous. August is time for travel, and so for the second half I did.

For previous travel I have had to start with at least two train rides to Narita airport in Tokyo. This time I rode the bus to the newly opened Mt. Fuji Shizuoka Airport. From there I hopped to the much larger Incheon Airport in Seoul, South Korea. I hung out for a few hours, got excited about finding the Minnesota based coffee chain, Caribou, then I caught a plane to my ultimate destination, Cambodia.

I arrived on August 16th, at about 10pm. In my online booking I had arranged for the hotel to send a taxi. After waiting 40 minutes, I found my own ride. The driver took me to the hotel, but they were full, and seemed confused by my reservation. The driver then took me to the hotel’s “other location.” They were also confused by my reservation, but at least they had room. I went to bed in my windowless room. Rough start.

My travel companion, Jackson was not set to arrive until the 18th. I had a full day to myself, so I walked through some markets and neighborhoods of the capital Phnom Penh. Cambodia has laws, but limited enforcement. All of the street signs and traffic signals were little more than soft suggestions. The only law I saw steadily observed, was an unspoken rule similar to the food chain. Pedestrians made way for bikes, bikes moved for motorcycles, motorcycles for tuk-tuks, tuk-tuks for cars, and cars for trucks. I came closer than is comfortable in testing this hierarchy. It is engineered into my brain that cars will stop, or at least slow for pedestrians. It took a local yanking me out of harm’s way to shake this instinct.



Before Jackson’s arrival, I confirmed his reservation and taxi with the hotel. The taxi still failed. Despite the hotel’s failings, the area was quite accommodating for travelers. Many the buildings hold a strong French influence. A lasting mark of the country’s colonized past. The easiest thing, is finding a decent meal in a country that strives for the international spread of its neighbor, Thailand. Eating was always an agreeable event, and quite vegetarian friendly.


The day after Jackson arrived we took a bus to our next destination Siem Reap. The bus was no common vehicle. It came equipped with a karaoke system and wireless microphones. Upon setting out, the two guys in front of us sang Hero by Enrique Iglesias. That was the only song sung on the six hour ride, and I am ever so thankful for that. Whether it is a polite warning or a threat, it is common for the bigger vehicles to honk as they approach others on the rural roads. I will stake money on the fact that our driver beat a random pattern into the bus’s hideously screechy horn at least once every 30 seconds. The countryside was lovely.

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I woke up at 5:07 this morning. I never really thought about what it would be like for an entire city to wake up at the exact same time. And I was not thinking about it this morning as I jumped from mattress and positioned myself in the door frame. Things shook and made noise. I really wish that I had had the clarity to take good mental notes of this morning's earthquake. When I find myself in a new and exciting experience, my internal voice kicks in and narrates the scene until I can find some paper. There was no voice at 5:07 am. I heard noise, I saw and felt things shake.

It must have been over within a minute, but I didn't have my watch on. And it is doubtful that I would have checked it. In my apartment, things that were almost a mess, were now a mess. A mirror fell, but did not break. Less lucky was the houseplant that it fell on. The recycling was less orderly than it had been.

Casualties are limited to a glass, a cup, and a plate. The glass had come from Okinawa back in March. There are two left in the set. The mug often sported coffee and the occasional tea. It is survived by its twin. The plate, split down the middle, leaves two other plates behind. The losses of all are felt.

I picked up and dealt with the remains. Curious of the earthquake details, but more anxious for sleep, I crawled back into bed. I laid there for an hour feeling the aftershocks and hearing the alarms outside. When I did get up, I saw that the quake measured 6.4 on the Richter Scale. It struck off the coast, 20 miles S/SW of my city. None of the locals I have spoken to can remember a stronger quake in their lifetime. One lady said this was even the strongest for her 75 year old mother.

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