Thailand, and Back

Do forgive my long absence! Since the last time I've posted, I've spent 10 days in Thailand!
 And though I won't go over the specifics of my antics like I did last time with Korea, I've had a great time in the Land of Smiles, and here are some pictures!

I got to know Khao San road very well. If I had taken this picture at night, it'd just be a wall of flesh.

Dropped by the Grand Palace, too. You know what else was grand? The amount of tourists.

Visited lots of markets. Like this one, built on top of the Maeklong Railway.

Or the floating market at Amphaya.

Thailand, like the rest of Asia, is rich in art, be it dance...

...or the martial variety.

I got to spend some time on the beaches of Koh Samet Island...

...Which has amazing fire shows by the way.

As well as the jungles of Kanchanaburi Province, where I was kissed by fish...

...Slapped by monkeys...

...And washed by an elephant. A pretty good time all in all, I'd say!

Hiking Mount Tsukuba

There are quite a few good hikes within a reasonable range of Tokyo, given that Japan in general is pretty much mountainous all over. Most of them actually have pretty friendly, well-maintained paths, and a fair amount of them are serviced by rope-ways and cable-cars. All factors accounted for, hiking the mountains around Tokyo makes for a rewarding day trip with very little investment necessary.
 Mount Tsukuba, in Ibaraki, is one such mountain.

Though I can't say I knew this prior to my hike, it turns out the mountain is actually quite famous for its beautiful twin peaks, the scenery made visible from either of its two summits, and its presence in ancient Japanese legend all three.

Conveniently enough, there's a bus that departs from the nearby town of Tsukuba and winds its way to the main temple located on the mountain. It was here that Ken and I found out that the temple's main export is actually toad oil. Toad oil! Apparently toad oil has a variety of applications when it comes to skin care, and is effective in treating blisters and such, and even helps build resistance to heat. I'll take that with a grain of salt, but it was interesting to note how statues of toads were erected around the temple and toad tokens were sold as good luck charms.

 The climbing of Mount Tsukuba itself is actually quite a pleasant 90-minute hike, with the trail we took leading up to the Nyotai peak ascending quite consistently, without ever truly turning too steep. The woods are home to a whole variety of butterflies and lizards and other pleasant critters, and teeming with life in general. Allegedly there are also boars, deers and foxes to be found within the mountains forests, as well as an impressive flora which I know nothing about.

Most would agree, though, that the hike is made worthwhile by the excellent view of the great Kanto plains visible upon reaching the summit. Though Summer days like ours don't offer the clearest view, the peaks of Mount Tsukuba are actually known to be a good vantage point from which, on a clear day, Tokyo and Mount Fuji both can be seen looming in the distance. Even short of that, though, the scenery is enough of a prize so as not to be disappointed. Many would also be relieved to hear that, for those reluctant to hike their way down the mountain, there's always the rope-way down, which we leisurely took.

A Brief Visit of Chichibu

Many things happen in the town of Chichibu, in Saitama. It's a town that, although calm during most of the year, brims with festivals on multiple occasions, and has found its way to the public eye. The town is spread on a fairly wide area which it also shares with vast fields of flowers of different types - so many in fact that it doesn't take all that much luck at all to find at least one such field in full bloom. This, and its surrounding mountains and temples, have given Chichibu somewhat of a picturesque look, while removing none of its tranquility.

 I found myself making a short trip to Chichibu in order to have a look at the town, not quite sure what exactly to expect, and found myself walking amongst pilgrims. As it turns out, one of Chichibu's main selling points to visitors is the 34 temples scattered in the forest and mountain trails. The pilgrimage through all 34 temples has been done for nearly 700 years now, but though the pilgrims of Chichibu today don't necessarily do it for the sake of actual religion, it was easy for me to see the appeal of such a journey. Based on nothing but a picture on a pamphlet, I picked one of the 34 and decided I'd have a taste of it.

 Temple 28, the Hashidate-do, was only a short distance away from one of the train stations of the local line, and a very short hike up one of the mountains lead directly to it. Nestled amongst tall trees at the top of a staircase, tucked under one of the faces of the mountain behind it, the small, ancient temple was a small marvel in and of itself, and radiated with history and lore. Unlike most temples in Japan, it's said that as many as half of the temples in Chichibu are not attended by priests, and are instead cared and maintained for by locals. Happy about my discovery, I soon decided to move on.

  As I mentioned above, Chichibu's flower fields are also fairly well known. Unfortunately, I had just missed the blooming of the pink shibazakura (or moss phlox) fields, which is widely considered to be the most beautiful of the bunch. I did, however, catch the blooming of the buckwheat! Granted, buckwheat's not all that impressive of a flower at all, and I'm not even that big a fan of soba noodles, but it was still kind of neat to stand in a field of it. But a little color would have been nice.

 Altogether, though, I didn't spend so much time in Chichibu, and I'm quite aware that there are adventures to be had here if I went looking for them. There's rafting on the Arakawa river, and zip-lining from tree to tree a bus ride away from the center of the town, let alone the whole 100 kilometer pilgrimage across the 34 temples. But those will have to be for another day, perhaps.

Blossoms on the River

The blossom season has come to Tokyo once again. As ever, the blooming of the cherry blossoms has drawn crowds to the parks, while also bestowing upon the populace the wonderful gift of hay fever. As much as I hate to admit it, even my eyes seem to be acting up when I walk under an area heavy in blossoms.

Having seen Ueno Park and Yoyogi Park in the previous years, I've decided this time around to focus on a different power spot - the romantic Meguro River. And as dirty and oily as the river is most of the year, the sakura trees lined up along its sides give it new life, whether it be with the help of the pink lanterns brought out during the blossom season or through the simple beauty of the river itself turning pink as the petals fall upon its surface. Against the backdrop of the river's scarlet bridges, though, it's hard not to admire the blooming flowers.

 It's my last hanami, and I think I'm going to miss this quite a bit. It takes a certain appreciation of beauty to enjoy the cherry blossoms, and for the whole population of Tokyo to be so taken by it says something about the Japanese people, and despite the crowds, it feels good to be part of that.

Rikugien's Autumn Night Illuminations

Rikugien garden is kind of special to me! It was one of the first few places I've set foot in upon entering Japan. In a way, it's the perfect example of the Japanese standard when it comes to traditional beauty - elegant, simple, but in the end, undeniably beautiful. Fun fact: Rikugien was constructed in the early 18th century, which makes it older than the United States of America.
 As it turns out though, at this time of the year, Rikugien garden stays open a little later for the yearly autumn night illuminations. So I figured I'd take a stroll and reminisce about it all.
At night, with the trees' leaves lit from beneath as they are, Rikugien is almost surreal, and it's no wonder it comes recommended as one of the hottest spots in Tokyo to appreciate the seasonal colors. I was lucky enough to take my stroll on a night where it wasn't too windy, and the payoff was great - the surfaces of the ponds scattered all around the park were perfectly still and reflected the leaves above like a mirror.

 In the rearmost section of the gardens, mist was cast over the ground and illuminated in cold blues, creating stark contrasts with the warmer colors of the leaves. I think a real photographer could have a hell of a field day here.

Soft Camping in Okutama

Since coming to Japan, I haven't really gone proper camping. There was that one time I slept inside the concrete tube, but you know, none of the traditional stuff. More's the pity, because camping is kind of my thing. I was a boyscout for longer than five years, growing up. I'm a big fan of the great outdoors. It just so happened though that a few workmates of mine decided they would get together and throw a camping trip - mind you, none of the hardcore stuff, but just a simple get away with a rented shack, sleeping bags and campfire. So I got off work and hopped on a two-and-a-half hour train ride to Okutama.
 It turned out to be quite a relaxing get away. Though I arrived at 10 in the night, my coworkers, Akemi, Ty, and Bryan, met me at the station and we got to it pretty quickly. Our rented shack was just big enough to have the four of us lay out our sleeping bags, but we were sure to get some campfire time in before that, and even pull out some fireworks.

Bryan, Ty and I. By our mental age combined, we're 12.

 It had actually been a longer time than I remembered that I had hung out with a group of people who were actually in the same age range as I was.  Even though one of us had to make it back to Tokyo in the morning, we still had the following day off, and we figured we'd make the best of it.

 Though I had been to Okutama once before, coming again in Autumn was definitely a good choice if only for the colors. The region being so choke full of mountains as it is, hiking trails of all lengths and difficulties were easy to find, and gaining some height gave us a good view of the autumn leaves and the scenic countryside towns nestled deep in the valleys. It was hard to believe we were still in Tokyo prefecture, with the air so fresh and not a single busy street in sight.

By the time we came down, though, we were good for lunch, so we rented  poles and plunked ourselves down for an afternoon of fishing. If truth be told, I'm not the best angler out there, but it's not like we found ourselves any random creek. The fishing area was heavily controlled and just about anyone had a good chance of catching fish here. The deal was we had half the day to catch five fish each, after which we were free to do what we wanted with them. Catching fifteen fish between the three of us took us less than two hours in total. We then brought them up and had them cooked on skewers.

Our expedition ended with a dip at a hot spring, and we finally the long train ride back to Tokyo. It was just enough to fill the day, but all in all, it just left me craving for some good old fashioned hard camping. The kind with tents and bears and peeing in bushes. That'll come another time, hopefully.

Kayaking in Okutama

I recently made the discovery of an outdoor activity club that makes frequent excursions to places around Tokyo. With hiking aside, I guess it's been a while since I've done any outdoor type of sport, and so I took the chance the moment I saw it, made a bank transfer, and showed up to one of the group's meetings in a remote corner of Tokyo prefecture named Okutama, which is pretty much the farthest place you can go from the heart of the city while still being considered in Tokyo.
 Okutama is untouched by the sprawl of the metropolis, though, and is a little bit more than an hour from Shinjuku by train. It's a pocket, or rather, a chain of pockets of civilization nestled between green mountains, with valleys and rivers and waterfalls crisscrossing every which way. Like so many places outside of the cities of Japan, people here live off the land.

 As it turned out, the day was wet and miserable. After five full scorching sunny days, a typhoon swept through Japan and pissed rain down on me on the very day of my outing. I wasn't too thrilled at first, but it turned out to be quite alright in the end - because kayaking, as the organizer said, gets you wet all the same.

 I hadn't kayaked in 6 years! The last time I went was in the Laurentides, in the open sea surrounded by whales, penguins and seals and a sky full of boobies (the bird species named booby, to be sure, though the other type would've been interesting too.) Kayaking brought back good memories, but I wondered if I remembered anything about how to row at all.
 Turns out I did! Fun fun fun.
Our group rowed up the misty canals of Okutama, against quite a bit of current brought on, no doubt, by the rain. Though many of my fellow rowers were spiraling uncontrollably, I managed quite alright, if I were to be my own judge!
 With the mist sitting right on top of the river, the whole setting had some magic to it. We were, in fact, down in a valley, with high cliff sides on either side and the one eventual wood bridge looming high overhead. It felt like the set of an Indiana Jones adventure. Even though a river in the countryside hardly compares to the Atlantic Ocean, kayaking in Okutama was very fulfilling in its own right, and I probably could've spent the day exploring the misty green valley if I were given the choice.

 Eventually I was even allowed to jump off one of the cliffs and into the water, which was actually quite deep. I did a front flip right in, forgetting I was wearing a life vest. I can tell you with certainty the life vests work, now.
 After a few hours, we made our way back and pulled the kayaks out of the water, and that was pretty much that. But since I made the discovery of the group, there's great opportunity to go at it as often as I care to spend the money for, and try lots of new outdoorsy things!

Humbling, Majestic Nokogiriyama

 Chiba and Saitama, two of Tokyo's three neighboring prefectures, are often the butt of (my) jokes. They don't often show up in tourism and travel books, and that's because they're quite, well, bland. I found myself running a Google search on what someone could possibly do in the prefecture of Chiba, and, lo and behold, I stumbled upon something new and unexpected. I grabbed Dario and dragged him into it while he was in the blind, not knowing where we were going or what we were doing. Truth be told, I can't completely say I was ready for what awaited us either.

 As it turns out, Some two and a half-hours away from the heart of Tokyo by train, is Nokogiriyama, the Sawtooth Mountain. It's not as imposing as it sounds, and makes for quite a brief, friendly hike. So too is there the option of using a rope-way and getting to the top in less than four minutes. But it's not the mountain that makes Nokogiriyama such an amazing find, as lovely as the view is from the top. It's every little thing along the way.
 Starting from Hamanakaya train station, one can easily reach the top of the mountain in an hour and a half. The hiking trail is at least as friendly as Mount Takao's, and leads you through gaps between cliff faces while often putting the backdrop of the neighboring towns directly behind you, allowing you to see the altitude you're gaining.

Pictures can't describe how amazing this looks, truly.

 The first stop of notice, near the summit, is the towering likeness of Buddhist Goddess of Mercy, the Hyakushaku Kannon. Carved into the face of a cliff, the Hyakushaku Kannon is like something out of fantasy. Overlooking a square shrouded in the shadows of trees looming far overhead, the carving stares straight into another cliff face, effectively creating a gigantic stone hallway. Finding such a thing in Chiba was like finding a pot of gold in my backyard.
 The Kannon itself would've been enough to make the trip worth it, but on top of that, just a little further on, one reaches the summit of the mountain, which offers a perfect 360 panorama of the surrounding area, unhidden by tall trees and other such obstructions. With hawks circling the forests and the beach and sea within plain sight, the summit of Nokogiriyama is one of the most satisfying rewards for a hike, despite the modest height of the mountain itself. Even the view below is unobstructed, and one can easily look down and see the very same square where the Hyakushaku Kannon stands guard.

Yet there's still more. Descending the mountain from the other side puts you in sight of the 1500 faces of the Guden Koga's Arhats. The 1500 statues are of varying sizes and practically line the whole face of the mountain. They have different facial expressions and are said to be carved out of stone from the Izu peninsula. Having taken almost 20 years to complete, they now serve in making the mountain one of the holiest sites in Japan. Unfortunately, many of the statues were defaced by Anti-Buddhist movement decades ago, but most still stand in all their integrity.

 And last but not least, sitting in a clearing, is the big man himself. The Great Buddha of Nihon-ji is the largest sitting Buddha in Japan, at 31 meters tall - a whole 17 meters taller than the one in Kamakura and 13 meters taller than the one in Nara. Carved by the same artisan as the 1500 Arhats from earlier (and his 27 apprentices) it's been restored to its former glory after countless years of wear and tear and erosion. Its appearance is meant to symbolize the existence of the whole universe as a "pure field confined within a lotus world" - whatever that may mean. I'm just quoting here.
 All in all, Nokogiriyama has been amazement upon amazement, and I went home quite happy with my discovery.
You're next, Saitama.

Night Time Stroll

Impressive for a hotel garden!

As Summer comes about, so too do all the bugs - most of them a nuisance. Cicadas and cockroaches, mosquitoes and centipedes, Japan's got all of that. But also fireflies!
 I decided to take a night time stroll to the Chizanso Hotel, which opened its garden to the general public for firefly viewing. Unfortunately, my camera does poorly when it comes to darkness, so pictures are a little sparse. The hotel, a massive, luxurious place in a little-known district of the city, sports quite a handsome garden, complete with a 3-story pagoda that was brought from the mountains of Hiroshima, which is quite a while away.

 When it came to the fireflies, I was actually quite surprised to find out that they're quite different from the ones I grew up with in the forested suburbs of Montreal. Quite a bit smaller, and a lot more timid. And boy, do Japanese love their fireflies. People crowded around the outskirts of the park's ponds, trying hard to spot them. They'd have quite a field day if they ever saw the big bastards in Canada.
 As the old local myth goes, fireflies are the embodiment of the souls of the recently departed. Whatever the case, it was a nice stroll, but you can't go in expecting to see the forest lit up by a thousand tiny lights, as they would have you believe with the posters.

His 80-Year-Ancient Majesty's Imperial Ancient-Ass Blossoms

I don't even know if you're supposed to call an Emperor "Your Majesty" (nor if you're supposed to capitalize the word "emperor") but Akihito, the Emperor of Japan, turned 80 this year. In and of itself, that's not big news, but it's been decided that the Imperial Palace would be open for five consecutive days in celebration of the event, coinciding with the cherry blossom season. Today was the second of those five days.

 Now you've got to realize one thing: the Imperial Palace never opens to the public unless it's for the New Year's Greeting on the 2nd of January, or the Emperor's Birthday on the 23rd of December. Both those days happen to be in Winter. That's sucky.
 So you can imagine that the combination of the exclusive 5-day opening of the castle grounds plus the cherry blossom season would draw quite a crowd, right? So what's your idea of a sizable crowd for this kind of happening? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? A million?

Yesterday drew 4 fucking million people - a figure similar to the entire population of New Zealand. And that was Friday. Today's Saturday.
And I went!
Flowing through the Sakashita Palace gates, I drifted amongst a human sea to look upon the Emperor's palace grounds and the blossoms within.
 I expected something truly majestic - like the moment I'd enter those gates, It'd be walls of pink on either side of the crowded inner-palace street, but what I got was something totally different. If you minus the whole crowd of millions, the inner palace grounds are serene, of
a zen-like beauty.
 The trees stand in the one place in Tokyo where they are undisturbed for almost all of the 365 days of the year, and have been kept in the same state for many decades. The Emperor's cherry blossoms, they're not huge trees with flowers weeping from great branches, nor are they even numerous. But they do have an ancient feel to them. Their trunks, their branches are gnarly and cracked, with the smaller flowers peaking through the seams.

Against the backdrop of the castle walls and the moat, I felt like it was somewhat of a really authentic Japanese experience. Was it worth the three hour line? In truth, maybe not. I can't say I was overwhelmed with beauty, nor do I know or care so much about the historical significance of the Imperial Palace, but it was an experience I'm glad I went through, if only to say that I did enter through the great palace gates and strolled through the grounds.

But you know, this is the third consecutive year I've spent the blossom season in Tokyo, and it's grown no less beautiful. The exploson of pink in every corner of the metropolis really gets you the chance to see Tokyo under a new lens, and at times, you don't have to go so far or somewhere so crowded to find the best sights. Though last year I enjoyed the flowers in Yoyogi Park, and in Ueno Park the year before that, I found that this time around, my very favorite cherry blossom spot was just around the corner from where I live. Ah! Simplicity!

The Blooming of the Plums

It's a start!

It's a month until the cherry blossoms erupt into full bloom again. Before long, buds will turn into flowers and the streets will be pink for a few short weeks before going grown. For those who can't wait, though, it's a well-known fact that around here that plum blossoms come around a little earlier, and are set to be in full bloom by now. In theory.
 Actually, they aren't. It got a little colder this year. But hey, they've started blooming and should be perfect by next week or so? I would know because I went and had a look myself, just this Sunday.

A few minutes' walk away from the prestigious Tokyo University (or Todai, short for Tokyo Daigaku) is a shrine called Yushima Tenjin, known for two things: the first is its affiliation with luck when it comes to studies. Hundreds of students who attempt to enter Todai pass by and purchase a wooden tag to inscribe their prayers of success on, and leave them at Yushima Tenjin, so that the awesome Shinto God of Entrance Exams at Tokyo University can read thousands of the same prayer day after day and flip coins on whether to let them enter the college or not. (Kidding, lest I be smitten. There is no such God in Shinto.)

Yushima Tenjin, at a glance.

The second thing the shrine is known for is its grove of plum trees. The "ume-matsuri" plum festival is held between February 7th and March 7th, and is accompanied with many performances of every kind (most of them traditional Japanese) on a small stage in the center of the temple grounds. I was on the site in time to catch a lovely dance performance traditionally from the island of Sado in Niigata, accompanied by the distinctive sound of olden flute and string. It's the kind of thing I like catching, if only because it reminds me of where I am.
It was a nice visit, even though it was brief. I can only imagine what the place would've been like if the plum blossoms were actually full. If you like, though, here's a video of the aforementioned dance. Enjoy!

Romantic Miyajima

You recognize this?

Flash forward a day and I'm in Miyajima. The ride there is a real short one from Hiroshima, and especially so by train, so there truly is no excuse not the make the trip. From the train station, hop on a ferry, and you're on Miyajima. The large orange Torii gate is famous worldwide for being right in the bay and designates the entrance to Itsukushima shrine.

As much as it was tempting to sleep in at the hotel a little longer, I'm glad I came in the early morning, because the island attracts tourists like crazy. But that's not the only reason the time of your visit is important.
 The Torii and the shrine being so close to the bay, its appearance is greatly affected by tide. When the tide is at its highest, the Itsukushima shrine seems to float in the water, so perfectly is it constructed that thousands of small poles that support the structure disappear entirely under the surface.
 Come the lowest tide, however, it's possible to walk straight up to the Torii and stand beneath it.
 Very much like Nara, the local deer on Miyajima are completely accustomed to human presence and live side by side with people. They walk up and down the same streets, demanding food with very little reluctance. I've seen one stroll right to the door of a still-opening shop, either curious as to what was inside, or perhaps the doe was a regular herself. A nonchalant shopkeeper walked out the shop and past the deer like she couldn't give a shit. As in Nara, you can walk up to them and pet them if you like.
 Though many stop at the shrine, Miyajima has one more sight I can definitely recommend as a must to be seen. Hop on the rope-way and up the island's tallest peak, Mount Misen. It won't take you to the top, however. You'll have to muster the gut to hike a little, but it isn't a difficult one. Do it. I tell you, it's worth it, dammit. From the summit is easily one of the best panoramas I've seen in Japan. 

180 degree panorama. Click to enlarge.

The summit of Mount Misen overlooks the Seto inland sea, which in itself contains dozens of other islands that can are easily spotted in the horizon. So, too, is the city of Hiroshima.
 You've made the hike? Great. Now, there's one more thing you have to do to enjoy Miyajima at its fullest.
- Go to the top of the summit's observatory if you haven't already.
- Give someone your camera.
- Go back to the bottom of the observatory.
- Climb a rock.
- Strike a pose.

You win.