Aug 2008

Back on the road again, I have a little bit of time left to wrap up my Japan travel, to fulfill those stray dreams that I had of things to do in this country. One of those dreams was to climb Mt.Fuji, the highest mountain in Japan.

Most people climbing Fuji (about 99%) start from the 5th station halfway up the mountain, and the idea of climbing from the base is enough to get you some confused looks from the people at the tourist counter. Luckily though, there is still a path that caters to stuborn fools who insist on climbing every vertical metre themselves - the Yoshidaguchi trail, which also happens to be the oldest, most historical and most spiritual of any of the trails, used by pilgrims in the centuries before the 5th station and its bus network came into existence. The trail begins at Sengen Shrine, where like the pilgrims of old I pray (very, very hard) for safety along the way. From the Shrine, a winding dirt track leads into the forest, where the journey begins...

The lower reaches of the climb are truly heavenly. As I sit on my break in the middle of the lush forest, a bright blue butterfly as big as my hand floats past, completely oblivious to my futile attempts to get a photo of it. The trail becomes gradually becomes steeper, and before I know it I am entering the clouds above me, and am surrounded by mist. It turns out to be the perfect weather for the forest though; ancient shrines, decaying buildings, eerie silence and ethereal mist all complement each other to create a truly magical atmosphere. What is more, I have the path entirely to myself, with not a single Japanese tourist venturing to travel along this section. For hours I walk alone, in the land of the gods of the forest and the ghosts of centuries gone by.

Just as the afternoon is threatening to turn to evening, I hear voices for the first time on my pilgrimage...It turns out to be three Australians, who are trying to fiure out the best way to reach shelter before nightfall. How is it that four Australians manage to find each other on an abandoned track on the slopes of Mt.Fuji? We journey together until we finally we reach a hut just before sunset, happy to have found our way before dark. After hours of steadily persevering upwards, we have broken through the clouds, and are now in the heavenly world above. The days hiking finished, we stand on the top of the ledge, looking down on the sea of sky below us.

We sleep together in the mountain hut at 2000m altitude, and wake up at 3.30am to begin the next days ascent. We start climbing in the dark, but as we puff and pant our way up the slopes, the sky gradually begins to lighten. Eventually we decide to take a break, and sit down to watch the most memorable scene of any climb up Mt.Fuji - Sunrise. It is truly spectacular. Eating our breakfast of home-made rice balls, we sit dumbstruck before the truly awe-inspiring sight of a sea of pink and yellow clouds, the soft rays of first light, and a tiny crescent moon twinkling far above.

This is the end of heaven for us. From here the scenery begins to change, gradually coming to look much more like hell. The vegetation sheltering us from the wind begins to die off; first the trees, then the shrubs, then the grass, leaving us on a barren mountain slope with nothing but purple-red rock and dust. The rocks here are mostly lava formations, bubbling rivers of molten rock cooled mere centuries ago, and could only be described as hellish. The gradient becomes ridiculous, as the mountain trail gives way to endless staircases of rock and chains, and we occasionally end up on all fours climbing up the faces of the lava-rocks. My prayers to the gods of wind and rain at the shrine below also appear to have worn off, and the landscape is soon accentuated with ferocious wind and driving rain, which seems to be attacking us from sideways rather than vertically.

Luckily, my host dad had insisted on giving me hundreds of dollars worth of high-tech hiking gear before I left, and I feel very grateful to him as I don my gore-tex jacket, gore-tex pants, and my gore-tex hat and gloves. Still, the water ends up finding its way into my leather shoes, where it accumulates happily until it forms a pond around my feet. Only hours after that heavenly sunrise, we are encased in cloud with our heads down persevering through hell.

It only gets worse the higher we go. Not only is the weather gradually getting worse and worse, but we are starting to feel the effects of altitude, and I am beginning to wish I had bought one of those oxygen bottles the Japanese were puffing on every few steps of their climb. Instead, I take the much cheaper option of just panting heavily and trudging very slowly...conversation is out of the question, as even if we had the breath to speak the wind would whip away our words before anyone could hear them. So we pass the hours in silence, just trudging through the rain, one step after another, occasionally stopping to take shelter in bathrooms in order to empty out the puddles in our shoes.

Eventually we reach 3400m of altitude, only 376m from the top. We stop at a hut and ordered some food, hoping it will warm us up. However, our rest ends up having the opposite effect, as without the strenuous activity of hiking up the mountain we quickly start shaking violently. We hoped that by taking a break, we would wait out the worst of the weather, but it proves a futile hope; when we exit the hut at last, we are greeted by what could only be described as a hurricane. The rain is practically torrential, depositing huge volumes of water into the growing puddles in the lava-rock, and the wind is so strong it is actually picking that water back up off the surface of the puddle and hurling it back into the air. We are told that we are only one hour from the peak, but the thought of heading any higher in these sort of conditions immediately conjures up images of newspaper headlines: "Australian idiots attempt to climb Mt.Fuji in storm, search teams still looking". As if we needed any more ominious signs, Clancy's lips have started to turn blue, and gentle rumbles of thunder begin to echo through the clouds, around us rather than above us. I abandon my dream of climbing to the peak of Mt.fuji in favour of my dream of living to see my 19th birthday. None of us are happy about the decision, but we all agree that it is the right thing to do.

Ok, so I didn't get a photo of me on the roof of Japan. But I still saw more of Mt.Fuji than anyone starting from halfway, and I did get to see an amazing sunrise! And I will always have a great story to tell at parties, about the time I almost climbed Mt.Fuji.

The first breezes of autumn sweep through the city, announcing the end of my long summer. The season is calling; its time for me to hit the road again.

It has been nice to have a home for a while, with the warm blanket of familiarity and routine. It was a good break from solitude too, being surrounded by people who look after me and cared for me, both my host family and my friends. When I left Australia, I had to go through the difficulties of leaving both family and friends. Now, I have to do exactly the same thing again! I waved farewell to little Vanessa, hugged a very emotional Eric goodbye, wished Amy all the best with college, and made every Japanese person I knew promise to visit me in Australia. I hung up my apron at the pub, and Doctor, ever casual, farewells me with his usual 'See you tomorrow'.

Of the 3 months I spent travelling Japan, 2 and a half of them were spent here in Tokyo...not precisely the kind of travel I had in mind when I left home! But I have no regrets about staying here, as staying in the one place turned out to be an excellent way to travel. Here I had a chance to read books, watch movies, sit in parks, walk the dog, and have meaningful relationships with the people around me. When I left Australia, I had dreams of diving headfirst into the unknown, but it turned out to be just as pleasant to sit on the edge and dip my feet in.

The main reason I stayed in Tokyo though, was less philosophical than financial. I needed to make money! And make money I did...even with all the ridiculous excesses of my Tokyo lifestyle, I now have the equivalent of $1000 in my pocket (or to be more precise, in my money belt). I am very satisfied by this achievement, and celebrate the way any sensible, mature person would - by using making the notes into a paper fan and fanning myself with it while basking in my own richness. With my purpose fulfilled, it is time to move on.

With my bags packed and a thousand goodbyes, I'll be leaving home tomorrow morning into the big wide world. With a song in my heart, as always. 'On the road again...I just can't wait to get on the road again...'

There are a number of good reasons put forward by people for partying whilst travelling. Some say it enables you to connect with the people; after a few drinks, social barriers break down and foreigners find themselves arm-in-arm with drunk locals. Others say it allows for some excellent people-watching; seeing people at their most uninhibited gives you insights into their culture and way of thinking. These are all very good reasons, but I suspect they are just excuses. The real reason travellers go out to party is simple...its fun!

Roppongi is　the party zone of Tokyo, particularly known for its cosmopolitanism. One night, me and some friends pull up in a taxi at about 1am, about the time the night really begins in Roppongi. Our group is made up of bar staff and bar regulars, a mix of Czechoslovakian, German, Australian, New Zealandese and Japanese people. In Roppongi we are nothing out of the ordinary, as the typical party crowd is a hodge-podge mix of just about every nationality in the world.

We head for one of the most popular nightclubs, Muse. The best way to describe the feeling of being there is that of being lost in a rich Arabian persons house at night; there are a lot of sandstone walls, archways, and stairways leading up and down to rooms laid out in the most confusing ways possible. There are dance floors, bars, karaoke rooms, billiards tables, darts rooms...basically it is a theme park of everything people like to do while drunk. The dance floor is clearly based on Japanese rush-hour trains, with people crammed into every last cubic centimetre of space. In fact, the name 'dance floor' is something of a misnomer - you don't so much dance as wiggle, while being pressed in all directions by the backs of sweaty men. Most people cope with this by drinking a lot, but this is not an option for me as drinks cost at least $10 each. They only sell high quality beers, most of them international. I couldn't help but laugh when I found VB on the menu alongside the belgian and german names - obviously here it is considered quite the gourmet treat!

The crowd barely thins at all during the night, and everyone is a little bit shocked when the music turns off and the staff attempt to kick hundreds of people out onto the street. But its only 6am! I am told that they usually let you stay until far later (or earlier?). The matter of time is a little bit confusing, and I am not sure which schedule to follow. Should I act like its morning? Or late at night? In defiance of the bright sunlight and the dog-walkers beginning their day, we head to the local ramen shop to help ourselves to a big bowl of post-party noodles. Tokyo Tower sits serenely in the dawn light as the clubbers file onto the dawn trains...

This is but one night of many in Roppongi. I have never been to the same bar/club twice, and every time I have been out it has been a completely different experience. One Sunday night (yes, Japanese people love going out on Sunday night for some reason), me and Amy head down the main drag trying to find a place which looked good. After an hour or so of absolutely shocking, terrible karaoke (the American style with one drunk guy singing in front of everyone, not the behind-closed-doors Japanese style), we stumble into a place called 'First Bar' in search of the elusive Happy Hour. We miss it by a few minutes, and so we have to order drinks at regular prices. Given that the staff members are all wearing suits, I soon realise I cannot afford said prices.

But just as I am about to sink into depression, Amy points out a sign on the table...Sunday night special, Caipirinhas for 500 yen ($5). It's listed as 'Brazil's national cocktail'...well, if Brazilians like it, it must be good, right? I am a bit apprehensive when they hand it to us...it's a rather small glass, not nearly enough to party the night away on. My hopes rise though when the waitress says 'be careful, drink it slowly'. I take a sip through the tiny straw, and my face lights up. It tastes like Brazil! For those who are wondering what exactly a Caipirinha is, wikipedia tells me its a mix of cachaça, a brazilian spirit made from sugar cane, and lime and sugar. I fall completely in love with this drink, though I have not been able to find a place that sells it since. I must plan a trip to brazil sometime soon...

As well as finding quite possibly my favourite drink in the world, our waitress quickly becomes my favourite waitress in the world. I ask her which country she is from, which is basically the opening line for most first conversations in Roppongi. It is more complicated than I expected though, or maybe I have had too many Caipirinhas...the gist of it is that one of her parents is from Ukraine and the other is from a country whose name I could not comprehend but ended in slovakia, so I spent the rest of the night thinking of her as 'the waitress from Ukraine/Uqchelaslovakia'. We spent a fair amount of time both talking and dancing with her, she was so much fun! Amy will kill me for putting this photo up, but its the only one I have of the three of us. She was the victim of an over-the-top fake tan (she's normally about my colour) and was so embarassed she didn't go out most of the day - I thought it worked quiet well with the Brazilian theme though!

While setting new records for boogying, me and Amy met a couple of German guys. I have heard a lot of stories about Oktoberfest from the Germans I have met so far, and so naturally that is the first thing I mention. 'Actually, I don't like Oktoberfest so much' one tells me, 'I live over the road from it, and whenever it is on I can't sleep for a week'. Well, at least now I have a place to crash if I ever go to Oktoberfest... I was still carrying my backpack the whole time, and ended up inventing a new dance - the bag dance (ok fine, its just me dancing with my bag...but still, its very fun!). At some point during my second and third Caipirinha, Brazilian belly dancers came out (they might have been Venezualan, I can't tell) and the whole bar turned into a giant congo line. Viva la Brazilia! Is that even Spanish? Do they speak Spanish in Brazil? Ok, I have no idea, but the point is I love brazil.

One night I'm lost in a rich Arabian's house with two Czech girls, another night I'm in a Congo line speaking made up Spanish...No two nights are ever the same in Roppongi. I would like to say these experiences gave me profound insights into the nature of the Japanese culture and society, but really, they were just good fun! Viva la Roppongi!

No-one living in Tokyo suffers from boredom; there is always something to do, or somewhere to be, or a TV show you just have to watch. From the giant TV screens of Shibuya to the jam-packed commuter trains to the 60 hour work weeks, living in Tokyo is an endless rush. Most of the time, it is thrilling to live life at such a high pace, but eventually, the city life takes its toll.

Everyone needs to get away from it all every now and then, and day hikes into the surrounding mountains are one of the most popular ways to do this. Exhausted from city life myself, I jump on a train away from the skyscrapers of Shinjuku to the mountains at the border of the city. The buildings gradually get smaller, until suddenly low-lying suburbia gives way to steep mountain greenery. I get off the train at the end of the line, and step into a street lined with traditional wooden buildings and old Soba (noodle) houses. With a belly full of Soba, I sling my backpacker onto my shoulder and head off up the mountain. I decide against the most popular trail, a bitumen road with a cable-car to take you up most of the up hill section, and opt for the pleasantly named 'nature trail' instead. With the vast majority of Japanese hikers on the bitumen trail, I have nature all to myself, and enjoy a splendid solitary walk through the forest. Later I realize I am not alone at all; a sign cheerfully explains that there are plenty of snakes around to keep me company, and identifies which of these friends of the forest are lethal and which are not.

Which makes me wonder - why did they put it halfway, not at the start? People who get bitten in the first half of the hike are certainly in trouble, as are the people who are terrified of snakes, who are now in the difficult position of being 5km into a snake-ridden forest.

Still, it is a very pleasant walk, with forest scenery so beautiful I can't believe I am still on the outskirts of Tokyo. Once I get to the top of the mountain I look out on the city laid out before me, vast and endless. While the city rushes about its business, the mountain top is still and quiet. I stay here from a while, looking wistfully over the valley, before continuing to the other side, where the there is nothing but green mountains to see. The hustle and bustle of Tokyo is completely forgotten as I walk alone, losing myself in the quiet of the forest path...

Since I got no answer to the last riddle (I'm very disappointed by the way), I decided to post up a new one which I found the other day:

Think of words ending in -gry. 'Angry' and 'hungry' are two of them. What is the third word in the English language? You use it every day, and if you were listening carefully, I've just told you what it is...

C'mon, you can solve this one!