Winter Weekend

I have been fortunate, over-stimulated even, to have been raised by four seasons. My adopted climate does not boast this, at least not to my taste. Winter in Shizuoka (Autumn extended), bottoms out at freezing, and even that is sparse. I have had a few opportunities to wear my rain gear, but there will be no snow pants this season.

I have discovered that I am only as tough as my climate, and what once was t-shirt weather, now gives me a chill. To retain identity and jumpstart physical memory, I took a little trip. My winter weekend.

I joined in for a trip organized by some of the prefectural contacts for my program. We flew to Japan’s northernmost island, Hokkaido, for a four day weekend. By no coincidence was it the weekend of Yuki Matsuri, the winter festival in the city of Sapporo. Parks and streets became galleries of snow and ice sculptures. Some of which could fit in a living room, while others could flatten a house. Every year an international crowd of 2 million converge in the city for the occasion.

My time there was winter at its finest. We arrived to find abundant fluffy stuff, and it just kept coming. The temperature hovered just below freezing. For all I know, I was trapped in a snow globe clamped in a paint mixer. Perfect.

Friday night a couple dozen of us met for dinner at the Sapporo Brewery Beer Garden. It was a Genghis Khan, cook your own, all you can eat lamb deal. I passed on the mutton, but found my fill in the vegetables and beer. An excellent snowball fight took place as soon as we got outside. I lost my hat while being on the receiving end of a snow tackle, and then lost a glove in transit home. I love playing in the snow.

The weekend was mostly walking around as a group of individually wrapped, climate controlled, photo snapping bundles. Occasionally we stopped walking to sit and eat. Folks were rather excited to try the ramen and crab, popular winter grub in Hokkaido. With the exception of the hotel’s bountiful breakfast buffet, I was less enthusiastic about the food. A while back I had decided to try veganism for the month of February. And unless a region is particularly vegetarian friendly, it is difficult to stray far from a kitchen. However, Hokkaido is the dominant farming region of Japan, and I would absolutely love to return in the warmer months, perhaps a harvest festival. They fancy themselves makers of cheese. I will be the judge of that.

On Sunday Jackson, Tatyana, Lindsay, and I took a local train to its end and then hopped a bus for another hour to an area in the mountains known for onsens (Japanese hot springs). We walked through the smallish town and decided upon a random onsen that seemed acceptable from the front. The choice proved good. The boys and girls split, and we were able to bathe outdoors alongside the hills and amongst the trees.

There were usually a couple other guys out there with us, but as soon as they were gone, I took my opportunity to climb out of the bath and into a snowbank. I was as civil as a naked man in a snowbank can be, but still opted for discretion because who knows what the locals might think.

I know some folks back home may enjoy packing their winter into a weekend, but such would not be my choice. I want my winter long. I want my winter tough. I want the weather to break just before I do. Then I can feel deserving of the warmth to come.

My winter season began and ended with a plane ride. Back in Shizuoka, I have another month or so until fall shifts into spring.