Fukuoka Yes!

Six hours on the right course, and we arrived in Fukuoka. The proper one. It was noon and we could not check in to the hostel for a few hours, so we did not venture very far with our packs. The city has some nice riverfront through much of the downtown. It reminded me of the revitalized Milwaukee banks. We sat down and watched the coy in the dirty shallow water. We drank a soda, I think it was grape.

Dropping bags and putting up the feet for a minute in the hostel, we then ventured out for dinner. The Lonely Planet guidebook directed us to a pub boasting 1,000 beers, and appropriately named Van Beeru. Sounded too good to be true. It was. After walking the block and then walking it a couple times more, we looked elsewhere for our meal.

As an exercise in decisiveness, we opened the door to a Chinese restaurant and committed to the choice. It was prime eating hours and we were the only patrons. The small kitchen had a man making the food, a woman watching figure skating on TV, and a dog watching both of them from the counter. The food was fine, and the three staff saw us off with a smile.

We found an excellent Irish pub that could fit inside my apartment. After a couple guys at the counter left, we were once again the only customers. The beer selection was a welcome sight, and the proprietor was a friendly fellow. He gave us some recommendations for the city and our future trip to Hokkaido.

Each night we stayed out late, as that was when things were happening. And each night we stayed at a new hostel. The Lonely Planet continued to give great suggestions that did not pan out. This included planning our night around a midnight breakfast in a place that was now a dance club, no thank you, and going across town for a museum closed at an odd time.

The missed midnight breakfast was replaced with a 1:30am dinner at a food cart by the river. Fukuoka, above all, is known for its food carts that set up shop all over town. The carts are dingy shanties on wheels that go up as the sun goes down. Usually there are a few of them together on a corner. Along the river, they stretch for blocks. Some have picnic tables, others have seating at a counter inside. The shanty town food courts look semi-permanent, but they are packed up and wheeled off each morning before sunrise. I cannot remember the proper name, so I just call them “feedpods.”

An amazing number of people were out on a Monday night. I could not imagine a weekend to have more. Seemed every corner had a group of men in suits, swaying side to side. Sidewalks of staggering stumblers. Fukuoka is a great place to roam streets at night, and it is different than other cities I have seen in Japan. Fukuoka has more action, but it has more litter. The homelessness is a bit more apparent. Sidewalks are more likely to be sticky.

It was a few days of heavy walking and late nights. There was consideration of shooting south to Nagasaki, but in the end we were spent. We got our Shinkansen tickets and had a pretty straight forward shot home. We even splurged for reserved seats, so as to avoid battling for a spot in the unreserved cars.

A big tower near the Sea.

Touching the ocean at every opportunity is a must for any Midwesterner.

Where's the Fukuoka?!

Lindsay has now arrived in Japan. For the first few days I gave her the best Shizuoka foot tour I knew how. After feeling that we had exhausted everything of interest within a sneaker’s range, we opted to vacate the city. I had been bouncing around and making inquiries as to different locations to visit over break. We decided to not decide our plans until Lindsay had arrived and caught her breath, fair enough.

We felt cool to both the hot and cold climates. Okinawa would be a mild temp at this time, and we would be visiting Hokkaido in a couple months, so we were not especially tempted by any temperate details. With enough time to cover some distance, but too short of notice to leave the country, we went for distant domestic. By some combination of a Lonely Planet guide book, websites, and a map, we set our sites west, to the modern city of Fukuoka.

Around lunchtime on the 27th of December we strapped on our packs and hoofed down to the JR Station downtown. At the ticket purchasing machine I could not get the price I had found online, so I went to the window. The ticket agent gave me the same price as the machine. Wise as I am, I pulled out my laptop that still had the corresponding webpage queued up. The agent immediately understood, and gave us the proper price.


The train rides were fine. We were headed a little south and a lot west. We set out on the Shinkansen (bullet train), and with three transfers, worked our way down to the lesser, regional trains. Covering so much turf, I loved that we never really left the mountains. We zigged away, but would always zag back. Soon after leaving Shizuoka, the snow caps popped out a little more. As the day of travel progressed, the snow dropped from the summits and into the fields. Suddenly, I was in winter again.

At about 7pm we arrived at Fukuoka Station. We stepped off our small train into a small station. It was cold, and it was snowy. At a loss for any flashing arrows or trail of crumbs to guide us, we approached the one visible being, a lone station agent.

Davin: Fukuoka?

Agent: Hai (yes).

Davin: points to the station on the Lonely Planet map of Fukuoka.

Agent: No Kyushu! …as he says this he crosses forearms to mimic an “X”, a national sign for absolutely no. (I am acquainted with this gesture, as I use it with my students all the time.)

The agent then pulls out a map book and shows us where we want to be, in the city of Fukuoka on the north end of Kyushu Island. He flips a couple of pages to show us where we are, Fukuoka Station in the town of Takaoka, a bit west and well north of where we began. In a quick conference, Lindsay and I determined that we did not pack sufficiently to make this our destination. The Agent then laid out a travel itinerary that would get us to our proper city. We stepped outside, made a snowball, and then back tracked a half hour to a bigger city, Kanazawa.


We were fortunate to find a room in a ryokan, a Japanese style hotel. The place was great, with a wonderful older couple running it, but it would be a brief stop for us. Wandering the city to find dinner, I was rather bummed for my shotty navigation, but Lindsay did well to keep the night upbeat. Kanazawa seemed like an acceptable place to spend a stranded night, but we were worn out, and had to catch a 6:30 bus for a 7am train.


Day one route: brown
Day two route: blue

more to come...

Food: first bite

Obviously one of the greatest changes in moving to Japan, is diet. We have land, they have sea. My appreciation of fish has grown ten fold in the last couple years, so that was one thing I could look forward to. One hang up that I had planned to hang at the door, was my preferences regarding meat. For just over a year now, I have narrowed my carnivorous scope to animals raised humanely. This worked beautifully back home, with the farmer’s market I knew exactly where my meal was coming from.

With my personal restriction designed as a critique of America’s food system, I had never planned to bring my concerns abroad. Yet being here, I find it quite difficult to shift on the matter. I walk a line of desire to try new things, wanting to be a good guest, and concern for the animal’s well being. This is a tough spot to be in, especially here.

In Japan, meat is not on the side. It is inside, on top, underneath, fused to the rest of the meal. You can order something without meat, but it will have meat. You can point out the bacon atop your salad, and they will tell you it is not meat. It is just a flavoring agent.

This is a hefty change for a formerly Buddhist/vegetarian nation. The word, vegetarian, has dropped from their vocabulary. Most people do not understand it, and not because it is English. The concept is just far too foreign. It is like the Inuit tribes with no word for murder. The practice does not exist, so why speak of it? The advice typically given to foreigners in my situation, is to say that I am “allergic” to meat. Allergies have greater universal understanding. While this tactic may work for some, it completely falls short of my purposes. Keeping the undesirable meat off the plate is half the battle, while the process of rejection is the other half.

There is the possibility that the Japanese treat their animals with the utmost care. I do not know of this one way or the other, but in this realm I pair my ignorance with cynicism. It is here that the language barrier is most trying. My greatest desire in learning the language, is to learn a little more about the food. Even then, the story may not change much. It seems to be the case that while the Japanese love food, they have no love for knowledge of food. At least not when it pertains to sourcing.

For all its flaws, America has a growing awareness of food issues, and desire to know where food comes from. Though I think there is much more to accomplish, I see that we are on the right track.

For the first two months, I went with the flow. I did not intentionally purchase meat for my meals, but I did eat what was given me. To be particular, would have been especially difficult for my 1.5 months at the Ikawa mountain school. While there, I ate school lunches with the staff and students, and dormitory dinners with the teachers. Breakfast was usually just fruit. I was also more apt to sample things out and about downtown.

Upon concluding my time at Ikawa, and returning to the heart of the city, I decided to be more proactive with my dietary concerns. Since October I have been a vegetarian in respect to land animals. If by chance, I stumble upon a small farm with some lovely chickens, or a nice slab of bacon, I may be inclined to get some. But until such an instance happens, I do not know where my meal comes from, and thus I shall avoid it all together.

Sourcing from the sea, is another can of worms that I do not wish to open today. I eat the variety of critters that come from the ocean, but even that, only to a limited extent. And less and less so.

It is unfortunate to be limiting my eating experience this year abroad. Though I will have it no other way. I do like to try new things where I can. My job is to share both the English language and western culture. Being an outspoken vegetarian seems to fit under the cultural understanding bit. While I do not preach to the students, I am eager to field their questions as to why I am eating something different. Accept it or not, it is good to know that it exists.

Kyoto

We picked the season to go to Kyoto. We picked this season to go to Kyoto. This season is the season that everybody goes to Kyoto. If you like pictures of people, I have those. In between the clutter of blue skies, red temples, and yellow leaves, I was able to gather some photographs of people. I had hoped to capture these individuals in a natural state, and to this end I succeed.


It has been my observation, that people are nervous around cameras. And yet, I was able to wade through huge clusters of people, while raising no alarm with my picture taking. With disregard to the mildly overbearing presence of the historically significant temples and shrines, my people watching weekend was a fantastic success!


An out of focus person in the background, paper prayers in the foreground.




What a herd!








The Geisha look is very big in Kyoto. There are actually salons where tourists (such as these two) can pay to be all geished-up.






I came across a baseball game in the trees. If you are not within spitting distance of a baseball game, then you are not spitting hard enough.




I led my team to victory in the sand castle competition at summer camp once, but these monks are out of my league.




Aqueduct.


Aqueduct from above.


From the roof of my hostel.


A narrow street with many people, and a restaurant for each one of them.


Jackson loves the taiko arcade game, and will play at every opportunity.


I had my portrait professionally done by this machine.


The final day was a wet one. And I am a weirdo for not traveling with an umbrella.










Last moments walking around before catching my bullet train out of town.