the invasion of Japan
Episode 6
atusgi superhero
I arrived in Tokyo at 10 in the morning.
Mt. Fuji is the first thing you see. It serves as a backdrop to Tokyo and can be seen ( on a low smog day) from anywhere in the city. It is one of the best looking volcanoes I have ever seen and I have seen a few. No matter which direction you look at Mt. Fuji from it maintains the same perfectly triangular shape that is gracefully sloped and snow capped. The snow around the peak seems manicured and given the fondness that the Japanese have for landscaping I wouldn't be surprised if it was.
The second thing you see is urban sprawl. The city covers an area that is twice the size of Los Angeles but this city is two thousand years older than Los Angeles, so they have had a little bit of a head start. What is shocking about the sprawl is the fact that everything seems to fit together nicely. In Los Angeles, the best efforts of city planners and architects are lost when houses fall into the ocean during mudslides and that sort of thing. In Toyko, there are houses that were erected during the time that Europeans lived in caves and the are still inhabitable and none of them have slid down the side of a mountain or into the sea and they had more primitive skills and materials to work with. They did something right.
Its a long drive to do one show in Atsugi. Atsugi, is a small prefecture of Tokyo proper and there is a Naval Air Station stuck in the middle of it, which is part of this grand tour of mine. I am on the base and feeling beat so I decided not to leave the base today or try to do anything but rest and catch up on some writing, this way I can start my tour of Tokyo tomorrow with fresh eyes and legs. I am mere minutes away from Mt. Fuji and, according to the locals; If you don't climb Mt. Fuji while you are here, you are destined to return to Japan until you do. Not wanting that hanging over my head forever, I looked into what it would take to get to the top of the mountain. It turns out that there are tour trips/hikes that you can take that are ten bucks, you just have to be in up time for the 6 AM departure. They say it will get you back around 5. I'm not sure I can do it, but again, I don't want some Japanese curse hanging over me.
The show later that night is a struggle and the men and women of Atsugi have mixed feelings about my show. I'm okay with that because I know that I'm here to entertain them in one way or another and I can make the best of it. After the show, the once hostile audience ( in picture perfect military form) take me off base to see some of the Atsugi nightlife. First on the agenda - Karaoke. It's 10:30 PM
Karaoke in Japan is very serious. This is my second viewing of the carnage and this time it seems they are singing for survival. There are no books to look through to find that perfect song, just a portable computer that you type the name of a song into and it is wired to your bar via satellite. I'm sure with most of Japan not being able to read English and, with a lot of drinking, that there are times when the wrong song gets played. No one seems to care, they just love to sing. No one person can sing at a time, unless they are good. During a song, anyone can grab a microphone and sing along and no one freaks out about it. I think that's wonderful to see. The best part of Karaoke is the videos that accompany the words in the background. In the states they are the worst kind of crap cakes, in Japan, they are not only corny crap cakes, they have nothing to do with the song. Example; "Sweet Child o Mine" by Guns and Roses is playing, the words are there and so is an old man fishing in a boat. That's it. He just fishes through the whole song and watches the sun set. I guess it isn't supposed to be about the background, but when you don't read Japanese, it's all you have.
The computer console gets passed around and I have to admit I am impressed, they have ever song, in every language, ever recorded anywhere. They even have Mudhoney.
The bar is small and filled to the rafters with locals. I am shocked that the bar is so small for such a popular event but I am told that there are private rooms where you can go and just sing to yourself or a small group of friends if you want and that's free but considered too special for just a drunk night out. (Think birthday parties, etc) Me and my sailor buddies choose to sing in the main room surrounded by locals, that can't speak a lick of English but can sing, "I will survive" better than Gloria Gaynor. There is some real talent here and I'm sure the only reason we haven't seen any of them on American Idol is that whole not-being-able-to-pronounce-L's has created a few speed bumps for them.
I am not sure how I got home, or when. I do know that there was a knock on my door at 6 in the morning and when I open it there is a Japanese guy wearing Columbia hiking gear and he looks as if he has never put a bad calorie into his body not even on accident. In broken English, he says, "Fuji" and points up. He looks like he might cry if I say no and I have been told that offers that go unaccepted are considered shameful, so even though I am dead tired, it doesn't seem like I have a choice and I scramble to get my things together for the trip. I leave a note for the base commander telling him of my plans and I am out the door.
The drive to Fuji was thirty minutes. Just long enough for a list of dos and don'ts in more broken English - (rough translation) Do drink a lot of water near the base but start to limit the amount of water near the top. Take baby steps. If you get tired or feel you can't make it, stop and wait for everyone to come back down to you, do not try to return to the base on your own. We are told that we will NOT make it all the way to the top of Fuji as the temperature at the top of the mountain is well below zero (then add wind chill) and none of us has the experience level to climb into the snow pack. Then, as all tour guides like to do, they give us the horror stories - those that have died, those that have lost toe nails or twisted ankles or fallen down or crippled themselves. What can I say, I'm thrilled that I am rested and wearing cross trainers.
The first twenty minutes are showing me that I will not have what it takes to make it. I am not even half way across the first zig of the zig zag trail pattern that graces the side of the mountain and already I want to sit my butt down and wait for the party to return. It's times like this, and there have been many on this trip, where I have had to come up with a mantra to get me through some of these low moments. I came here to not only see Japan but to experience it and I don't want my body's inability to work to stop me. In Okinawa, it was "I am the Okinawa superhero". In Nagasaki, "Nagasaki superhero" and so on. "Fuji superhero" doesn't quite roll off the tongue so I am going with "Atsugi superhero". I am chanting it all the way up the hill and heaving with every syllable, but it seems to be working. I press on and I use the time climbing to think about home, friends and what I am doing here. It was a hard show last night and after a bad one you really feel like you need some comforting but here I am on the side of a volcano, and there is nothing that I feel can do that. This whole trip it seems that I have had to find only small doses of comfort that never really do the trick, my bags arriving helped but I am still having to provide all the comfort that I need and I have to move past some heavy feelings right now if I am every going to get to a restful place.
I am thinking about all of this when all of sudden I see that I have made it to the first turn from the zig one to zag one. It took an hour to get to zag one and we are elevated quite a bit at this point and I can see out over the valleys and foothills below which makes the effort worthwhile. I notice that the line of hiking tourists has slowly started to spread apart with some of the hikers so far ahead that they have disappeared from view and a few that are still struggling to get up zig one behind me. The temperature is dropping as we get higher and I am glad that I am wearing heavy amounts of clothing (and the ability too), and I am also pleased by the fact that I am not dead last, which makes me feel like a pro climber.
I arrived at "our summit" with a small group of hikers a good hour after the healthy "type A" group had arrived. We are in the middle of zag two and there is a camp ground of sorts where people are enjoying healthy meals and being very zen and spiritual and making me ill with their crying. I smoked. Where we are on the mountain, the locals call, "American Camp" as so many Americans are prone to stopping at this point and heading no further up the trail. From where we are it seems that we are smack dab in the middle of the mountain but the trail guide, in broken English says, "no" and that's it. So, it's anyone's guess where we are stopped. Looking up the side of the mountain I can see the zigs and zags are getting shorter and it seems like we could summit in less than an hour if we went on, but the tour guide, in broken English says, "cold" and that's it.
This is Fuji, the majestic mountain of Japanese mythology. The view from our perch on the side of the volcano allows for a bit of ocean and a bit of Tokyo. I am fully impressed with the view and my spirits have changed, but I still feel very lonely on the side of this mountain and I am freezing to boot. Instead of actually enjoying this view and the accomplishment of a four hour hike, I am withdrawn and worrisome. Perhaps I am homesick or maybe I am feeling sorry for myself, but this isn't the moment that I was hoping to have up here. Until I look up, again.
The peak of Fuji is covered with snow and from our vantage point, we can see the wind blowing across the peak. The first time I looked up here all I saw was the trail and didn't even bother looking at the peak. The peak is menacing and I am glad I didn't make it all the way. There is nothing but pure hardship between me and the summit and I can tell that I am not ready for it. It finally hits me that I shouldn't be here at all because I was barely prepared to walk onto this mountain with or without any notice and yet, I am here. A place that few people I know will ever see or visit. Looking up at the snow I see that this is where I had to go. This is what I needed to do. I AM the Atsugi superhero! And I have to do what is offered to me if it shall never be offered to me again, for me and for all those that will never get the same offer. To have not climbed this mountain after all I had to do to get here would have been a sin against all those that would love to be here but can not. I am here against all odds and that is all I need remember. I soon realize that what I have been feeling isn't homesickness, what I am feeling is guilty. I am seeing all of this alone and I don't feel like I earned it, which makes me think it could end at any second when someone realizes the mistake and sends me home, That fact is what is bothering me and as soon as I see it, I am fine with the world and I have enough energy to keep climbing. I want to see the snow line on this damn rock pile! Before I can get to my feet and climb on without the group, the tour guide says something about the nature of the mountain and how we should start to head back. I AM the Atsugi Superhero and I am here to live this moment for all those that will never get too, HOW DARE YOU! He looks at me, points down the slope and says, "Coffee". His Kung fu is very powerful and I am headed back down the mountain.
I reach for my camera out of my pock and see that I have grabbed my Ipod bag and not the camera bag, so for all of my ranting and raving about "preparedness" and just going with the flow and doing it for others, I am sent hurdling back to Earth. A deeper understand comes to me in this moment and it this turns me another 180 degrees -This is for me to see and if you want to see it, you will have to climb it yourself, no one can do it for you, no matter what he thinks. This mountain is meant to be climbed and it represents all mountains that have to be climbed. You will always have to do it yourself and no one can get you to the summit but you.
I am back on base by 4 and it turns out that I am AWOL, kind of. My orders no longer apply to Atsugi and I have no received my orders for Yakasuga, so I am a man without a country and, again, luggage. It takes some phone calls, but I get my luggage and a ride to the next base. I have been looking forward to this base as it is located near the large Buddha statue. Everyone here says its close by so I am jazzed to get there.
Buddha is..
atusgi superhero
I arrived in Tokyo at 10 in the morning.
Mt. Fuji is the first thing you see. It serves as a backdrop to Tokyo and can be seen ( on a low smog day) from anywhere in the city. It is one of the best looking volcanoes I have ever seen and I have seen a few. No matter which direction you look at Mt. Fuji from it maintains the same perfectly triangular shape that is gracefully sloped and snow capped. The snow around the peak seems manicured and given the fondness that the Japanese have for landscaping I wouldn't be surprised if it was.
The second thing you see is urban sprawl. The city covers an area that is twice the size of Los Angeles but this city is two thousand years older than Los Angeles, so they have had a little bit of a head start. What is shocking about the sprawl is the fact that everything seems to fit together nicely. In Los Angeles, the best efforts of city planners and architects are lost when houses fall into the ocean during mudslides and that sort of thing. In Toyko, there are houses that were erected during the time that Europeans lived in caves and the are still inhabitable and none of them have slid down the side of a mountain or into the sea and they had more primitive skills and materials to work with. They did something right.
Its a long drive to do one show in Atsugi. Atsugi, is a small prefecture of Tokyo proper and there is a Naval Air Station stuck in the middle of it, which is part of this grand tour of mine. I am on the base and feeling beat so I decided not to leave the base today or try to do anything but rest and catch up on some writing, this way I can start my tour of Tokyo tomorrow with fresh eyes and legs. I am mere minutes away from Mt. Fuji and, according to the locals; If you don't climb Mt. Fuji while you are here, you are destined to return to Japan until you do. Not wanting that hanging over my head forever, I looked into what it would take to get to the top of the mountain. It turns out that there are tour trips/hikes that you can take that are ten bucks, you just have to be in up time for the 6 AM departure. They say it will get you back around 5. I'm not sure I can do it, but again, I don't want some Japanese curse hanging over me.
The show later that night is a struggle and the men and women of Atsugi have mixed feelings about my show. I'm okay with that because I know that I'm here to entertain them in one way or another and I can make the best of it. After the show, the once hostile audience ( in picture perfect military form) take me off base to see some of the Atsugi nightlife. First on the agenda - Karaoke. It's 10:30 PM
Karaoke in Japan is very serious. This is my second viewing of the carnage and this time it seems they are singing for survival. There are no books to look through to find that perfect song, just a portable computer that you type the name of a song into and it is wired to your bar via satellite. I'm sure with most of Japan not being able to read English and, with a lot of drinking, that there are times when the wrong song gets played. No one seems to care, they just love to sing. No one person can sing at a time, unless they are good. During a song, anyone can grab a microphone and sing along and no one freaks out about it. I think that's wonderful to see. The best part of Karaoke is the videos that accompany the words in the background. In the states they are the worst kind of crap cakes, in Japan, they are not only corny crap cakes, they have nothing to do with the song. Example; "Sweet Child o Mine" by Guns and Roses is playing, the words are there and so is an old man fishing in a boat. That's it. He just fishes through the whole song and watches the sun set. I guess it isn't supposed to be about the background, but when you don't read Japanese, it's all you have.
The computer console gets passed around and I have to admit I am impressed, they have ever song, in every language, ever recorded anywhere. They even have Mudhoney.
The bar is small and filled to the rafters with locals. I am shocked that the bar is so small for such a popular event but I am told that there are private rooms where you can go and just sing to yourself or a small group of friends if you want and that's free but considered too special for just a drunk night out. (Think birthday parties, etc) Me and my sailor buddies choose to sing in the main room surrounded by locals, that can't speak a lick of English but can sing, "I will survive" better than Gloria Gaynor. There is some real talent here and I'm sure the only reason we haven't seen any of them on American Idol is that whole not-being-able-to-pronounce-L's has created a few speed bumps for them.
I am not sure how I got home, or when. I do know that there was a knock on my door at 6 in the morning and when I open it there is a Japanese guy wearing Columbia hiking gear and he looks as if he has never put a bad calorie into his body not even on accident. In broken English, he says, "Fuji" and points up. He looks like he might cry if I say no and I have been told that offers that go unaccepted are considered shameful, so even though I am dead tired, it doesn't seem like I have a choice and I scramble to get my things together for the trip. I leave a note for the base commander telling him of my plans and I am out the door.
The drive to Fuji was thirty minutes. Just long enough for a list of dos and don'ts in more broken English - (rough translation) Do drink a lot of water near the base but start to limit the amount of water near the top. Take baby steps. If you get tired or feel you can't make it, stop and wait for everyone to come back down to you, do not try to return to the base on your own. We are told that we will NOT make it all the way to the top of Fuji as the temperature at the top of the mountain is well below zero (then add wind chill) and none of us has the experience level to climb into the snow pack. Then, as all tour guides like to do, they give us the horror stories - those that have died, those that have lost toe nails or twisted ankles or fallen down or crippled themselves. What can I say, I'm thrilled that I am rested and wearing cross trainers.
The first twenty minutes are showing me that I will not have what it takes to make it. I am not even half way across the first zig of the zig zag trail pattern that graces the side of the mountain and already I want to sit my butt down and wait for the party to return. It's times like this, and there have been many on this trip, where I have had to come up with a mantra to get me through some of these low moments. I came here to not only see Japan but to experience it and I don't want my body's inability to work to stop me. In Okinawa, it was "I am the Okinawa superhero". In Nagasaki, "Nagasaki superhero" and so on. "Fuji superhero" doesn't quite roll off the tongue so I am going with "Atsugi superhero". I am chanting it all the way up the hill and heaving with every syllable, but it seems to be working. I press on and I use the time climbing to think about home, friends and what I am doing here. It was a hard show last night and after a bad one you really feel like you need some comforting but here I am on the side of a volcano, and there is nothing that I feel can do that. This whole trip it seems that I have had to find only small doses of comfort that never really do the trick, my bags arriving helped but I am still having to provide all the comfort that I need and I have to move past some heavy feelings right now if I am every going to get to a restful place.
I am thinking about all of this when all of sudden I see that I have made it to the first turn from the zig one to zag one. It took an hour to get to zag one and we are elevated quite a bit at this point and I can see out over the valleys and foothills below which makes the effort worthwhile. I notice that the line of hiking tourists has slowly started to spread apart with some of the hikers so far ahead that they have disappeared from view and a few that are still struggling to get up zig one behind me. The temperature is dropping as we get higher and I am glad that I am wearing heavy amounts of clothing (and the ability too), and I am also pleased by the fact that I am not dead last, which makes me feel like a pro climber.
I arrived at "our summit" with a small group of hikers a good hour after the healthy "type A" group had arrived. We are in the middle of zag two and there is a camp ground of sorts where people are enjoying healthy meals and being very zen and spiritual and making me ill with their crying. I smoked. Where we are on the mountain, the locals call, "American Camp" as so many Americans are prone to stopping at this point and heading no further up the trail. From where we are it seems that we are smack dab in the middle of the mountain but the trail guide, in broken English says, "no" and that's it. So, it's anyone's guess where we are stopped. Looking up the side of the mountain I can see the zigs and zags are getting shorter and it seems like we could summit in less than an hour if we went on, but the tour guide, in broken English says, "cold" and that's it.
This is Fuji, the majestic mountain of Japanese mythology. The view from our perch on the side of the volcano allows for a bit of ocean and a bit of Tokyo. I am fully impressed with the view and my spirits have changed, but I still feel very lonely on the side of this mountain and I am freezing to boot. Instead of actually enjoying this view and the accomplishment of a four hour hike, I am withdrawn and worrisome. Perhaps I am homesick or maybe I am feeling sorry for myself, but this isn't the moment that I was hoping to have up here. Until I look up, again.
The peak of Fuji is covered with snow and from our vantage point, we can see the wind blowing across the peak. The first time I looked up here all I saw was the trail and didn't even bother looking at the peak. The peak is menacing and I am glad I didn't make it all the way. There is nothing but pure hardship between me and the summit and I can tell that I am not ready for it. It finally hits me that I shouldn't be here at all because I was barely prepared to walk onto this mountain with or without any notice and yet, I am here. A place that few people I know will ever see or visit. Looking up at the snow I see that this is where I had to go. This is what I needed to do. I AM the Atsugi superhero! And I have to do what is offered to me if it shall never be offered to me again, for me and for all those that will never get the same offer. To have not climbed this mountain after all I had to do to get here would have been a sin against all those that would love to be here but can not. I am here against all odds and that is all I need remember. I soon realize that what I have been feeling isn't homesickness, what I am feeling is guilty. I am seeing all of this alone and I don't feel like I earned it, which makes me think it could end at any second when someone realizes the mistake and sends me home, That fact is what is bothering me and as soon as I see it, I am fine with the world and I have enough energy to keep climbing. I want to see the snow line on this damn rock pile! Before I can get to my feet and climb on without the group, the tour guide says something about the nature of the mountain and how we should start to head back. I AM the Atsugi Superhero and I am here to live this moment for all those that will never get too, HOW DARE YOU! He looks at me, points down the slope and says, "Coffee". His Kung fu is very powerful and I am headed back down the mountain.
I reach for my camera out of my pock and see that I have grabbed my Ipod bag and not the camera bag, so for all of my ranting and raving about "preparedness" and just going with the flow and doing it for others, I am sent hurdling back to Earth. A deeper understand comes to me in this moment and it this turns me another 180 degrees -This is for me to see and if you want to see it, you will have to climb it yourself, no one can do it for you, no matter what he thinks. This mountain is meant to be climbed and it represents all mountains that have to be climbed. You will always have to do it yourself and no one can get you to the summit but you.
I am back on base by 4 and it turns out that I am AWOL, kind of. My orders no longer apply to Atsugi and I have no received my orders for Yakasuga, so I am a man without a country and, again, luggage. It takes some phone calls, but I get my luggage and a ride to the next base. I have been looking forward to this base as it is located near the large Buddha statue. Everyone here says its close by so I am jazzed to get there.
Buddha is..
posted by Daniel Loomis | 4:07 PM
<< Home