Youngs Around the World

On our final morning in Kyoto, we humped our packs for twenty minutes through the pouring rain to the train station for our connection. The three-hour journey to Hiroshima was once again made easy by our shinkansen (bullet train). The world-famous trains traverse the country; regularly cruising at speeds in excess of 150 km/hr, making riding the train faster and easier than flying. We’ve taken them all over Japan – they are definitely the best way to get around.

We arrived just before lunch, giving us the afternoon and evening to explore Hiroshima. Our hostel was in the middle of downtown, within walking distance of all that we wanted to see. Our first stop was Peace Memorial Park, a sprawling oasis in the middle of the city, built as a post-war gathering place to comfort the victims of the atomic bombing and to pray for world peace. The park contains numerous memorials including the Cenotaph for the A-bomb victims (housing a list of all known victims), the Flame of Peace (which will only be extinguished once the last nuclear weapon on earth is destroyed) and the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. We wandered around the park, filled with tour groups snapping pictures, suited workers on lunch breaks, and others just enjoying the sunny Friday afternoon.

Adjacent to the park is the Children’s Peace Monument, inspired by Sadako Sasaki, a ten year old girl who survived the bombing at the age of two, but later developed leukemia caused by post-bomb radiation. She decided to fold 1,000 paper cranes, a Japanese custom through which a wish will come true, believing that it could help her overcome the disease. She died before reaching her goal but her classmates finished folding the rest, sparking national interest in her story. Each year thousands of students around Japan remember Sadako’s story and fold paper cranes which are sent to Hiroshima and placed in this monument.

We continued across the river to the A-bomb dome, a symbol of the devastation inflicted upon Hiroshima. On August 6, 1945 at 8:15am the world’s first atomic bomb exploded approximately 600 meters above the city, almost directly overhead the Industrial Promotion Hall. The heat rays and blast burned and crushed nearly all buildings within a two kilometer radius of the hypocenter. Though the city was completely destroyed, a single recognizable landmark remained. The dome of the Hall. Today, the dome and skeleton structure of the Hall remain and have been fortified to perpetually appear exactly as they did more than sixty years ago. In the now-thriving metropolis of Hiroshima, the ruins are a stark reminder of her tragic past.

Retracing our steps, we made our way to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, or A-bomb museum. The two-story building contains pictures, video, scale models, and government documents narrating the events leading up to and after the atomic bombing. An estimated 140,000 people perished, including Japanese civilians, Korean forced laborers, and POWs as a result of the bombing. Some died instantaneously from the blast, others suffered for days or weeks before finally succumbing to their wounds, while still others died months or years later from the effects of residual radiation released during the nuclear reaction. The museum contained many tragic stories and first-person accounts of the pain inflicted on that August day so many years ago and, as Americans, it’s hard not to feel a twinge of guilt for the actions of our government. So we look for justifications, reasons to explain the horror of Hiroshima. Why did the United States drop the atomic bomb on Hiroshima? The simplified, two-part answer provided was uninspiring. First, the U.S. bombed Hiroshima in a final effort to end the war with a weakened Japan while limiting the Soviet Union’s world influence. The second reason was to justify the tremendous development costs of the Manhattan project which developed the atomic bomb. As we studied the surprisingly unbiased exhibits of the museum, learning more than any textbook or website could teach, it became more apparent to us that there is no justifiable reason to use nuclear weapons. But more than that, it reinforced the idiocy of war, nuclear or otherwise. It was an emotionally intense three hours that left us desperate for a distraction, something lighthearted and fun.

Introduced in Japan in 1873 and played continuously even during WWII, the sport of baseball is hugely popular. Although we’re both half-hearted baseball fans in the States, we’re always eager to attend live sporting events, especially in other parts of the world. The Hiroshima Carp play in a downtown stadium right across the street from the A-bomb dome and they were hosting Japan’s most celebrated team, the Tokyo Giants. The night had grown considerably colder so we bundled up, bought a couple of cheap tickets and made our way to the outfield bleachers. Arriving on time, but still missing the first pitch (the Japanese are annoyingly punctual sometimes), we found our general admission section and looked for a couple of seats. Amid thousands of Carp fans we admired the amazing spectacle created by red-and-white (Carp colors) plastic noise makers. A makeshift band casually assembled behind the crowd belted out tune after tune, while the enthusiastic crowd chimed in on queue. There were four or five drums, a few horns, two guys waving huge team flags, and a conductor orchestrating it all. The fans formed a sea of red and white; many donned the pinstriped jersey of their favorite player. We ordered two draught beers from a passing vendor with a keg strapped to his back and began furiously cheering for the mighty Carp.

Despite being dressed like a couple of backpackers, unable to speak the language, and clearly foreign, we felt right at home. This was baseball, America’s game, why wouldn’t we? After a couple of innings, we decided to brave the food court. We’d seen plenty of noodles and rice and fish walk by so we knew what to expect. After some deliberation, we settled on a “French Dog” (corn dog), some chicken tenders, and French fries. Not exactly traditional Japanese fare. We immediately regretted not ordering noodles, but the menus were all in Japanese and it just seemed like too much work. With the home team down by four runs, we stayed until the bottom of the sixth inning when we lost our waning motivation as the Carp squandered a chance to score with the bases loaded and no outs. Chilled to the bone, we decided to call it a night. Walking back to the hostel, I recalled the comment of a British guy in our hostel. He said that it was interesting how symbols of America’s two greatest influences on Japan are right across the street from one another, the A-bomb dome and Hiroshima’s baseball stadium. For better or worse, I guess it’s true.

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By noon, I had turned from a geisha back into a pumpkin and, despite the incessant drizzle, we stayed the course of all-day adventures. The trains have made it easy to zip around Japan and, since it was lunchtime anyway, we decided to fit in a little side trip to Kobe (pronounced “ko’ bay”) to indulge in some Kobe beef – a regional variety of Japanese beef known for its heavy marbling and decadent flavor. After three years of d.i.n.k. (dual income, no kids) life in Texas, Aaron and I have consumed our fair share of premium quality steaks. While I assumed the hype Kobe beef was not unfounded, I kept my expectations out of the clouds nonetheless.

Aaron had selected the highly recommended Wakkoku restaurant below the Crown Plaza Kobe hotel. We were seated at a teppan table inside the dimly-lit dining room. The surrounding tables were full of businessmen, drinking wine and smoking cigarettes while their chef prepared their meal on the large iron griddle.

We ordered some wine and a set meal of several courses, which seemed to appear at random as our chef began our meal preparation in a dazzling display of showmanship. The two steaks were presented raw alongside another plate of raw vegetables. The steaks were thin and pristinely cut to display the fatty marbling. The chef began by sautéing thin slices of garlic as well as some mushrooms and sliced peppers. He spooned small mounds of coarse ground pepper and salt onto each of our plates along with the vegetables. He then seared a portion of each of our steaks and served us each three small sizzling pieces.

Let me just preface the following description by saying that, no matter how deliciously accurate is my account, you cannot truly understand the intensity of its magnificence unless you try it yourself. I picked up the first piece of steak with my chopsticks, dipped it gently into the salt and pepper, and slowly, ceremoniously slipped it between my lips. It was tender, salty and intensely flavorful with a divine richness that made it melt in my mouth. I glanced over at Aaron who had the same warm, euphoric smile that I felt stretching across my face. Each subsequent bite incited the same sensation of pure savory pleasure and regal indulgence. The remainder of the steak was prepared gradually over the course of the meal so that each piece was slightly sizzling from the griddle. Even the fat trimmings were utilized to add a salty richness to the fresh vegetables sautéed as accompaniments. We savored every bite of the Heavenly beef and have rarely left a dinner table more satisfied.

Having gotten the experience that we had come for – a culinary experience that exceeded our “Big Texas” expectations – we took the elevator up to the Crown Plaza’s Sky Bar to take in the skyscraper perspective of downtown Kobe and then hopped back onto the train to get on with our day.

Our next and final stop was Himeji Castle in the city of…you guessed it – Himeji. Having lingered long over our Kobe lunch, the late afternoon was upon us. The castle was open until 5pm but the last admission was allowed at 4:00. The train spit us out at 3:45 about a kilometer from the castle, giving us exactly fifteen minutes to find the right station exit and sprint to the castle entrance. Painfully out of running shape and weighted down by rain jackets and our decadent Kobe feast, we made a mad dash up Otemae-dori in the rain. With burning lungs and heaving breath, we arrived at the outer perimeter of the grounds. We had the elevated castle in our sights but the ticket counter was still a good three hundred meters away. We had slowed our pace from all-out sprint to weary jog but when we heard the five-minute warning over the loudspeaker, we summoned our deepest reserves of energy and made a break for the gate. As we began the final one hundred meter uphill stretch, two male gatekeepers were standing with stopwatches, good-naturedly cheering us on until, at last, we steamed through the gate with mere seconds to spare, arms raised in triumph like the famous scene in the Rocky movies.

Built high up on a stone foundation, Himeji Castle is an impressive display of power and defensive ingenuity. The wooden structure is insulated by moats and high stone walls. Its fortifications include strategically placed openings for shooting arrows and guns or pouring boiling water onto unwelcome visitors. The interior of the castle is composed of heavy, dark-stained wood which held the dampness of the rainy day. From the sixth storey landing, a lord could look out over his vast lands in all directions. I could almost smell and feel the feudal history in the dark walls and heavy wooden beams; these walls held the restless spirit of battle. Himeji Castle was one of the most magnificent Japanese buildings that we have seen and one of the few castles that remain in their original wooden form. Although it took me an hour to fully recover from our race against the clock, the thrill of the chase enhanced the entire experience. In hindsight, I think that it was fate’s way of reminding us that it is important to maintain a good level of fitness. Many years ago, I wrote a short poem which has since served as a sort of credo:

Live boldly and ferociously
With constant forward momentum
A mad dash to the finish
Unstoppable until death

While the vigor of my credo may prove to wane with age, I was thankful for the not-so-subtle reminder today that my chances of madly dashing anywhere are greatly reduced with a belly full of steak.

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On the streets of Kyoto, I had stumbled upon an advertisement for Maica – a shop in which geisha-giddy schoolgirls and tourists can pay to be dressed up in full geisha costume. After days of hinting around that I was crazy about the idea, I finally called the shop to make an appointment. The girl who answered the phone spoke little English but I managed to make an appointment for the following morning.

It was a gray, rainy day in Kyoto as we made our way to Maica for my 10am appointment. There was not a waiting room for Aaron to sit so he took the umbrella and disappeared into the rain. Meanwhile, I selected the maiko (apprentice geisha) costume instead of the true geisha costume because the kimono and accessories were more colorful and ornate. I was directed to the second floor to change into a thin, pink robe and a pair of tabi socks. Then my transformation began. I sat on a low stool while a young woman applied my makeup. I’ve never been able to tolerate foundation on my face – even sunscreen feels too greasy – so I was surprised to find the creamy whitening base cool and soft. My makeup artist took her time; she had a soft touch and smiled sweetly, making the experience feel like a true pampering.

With a pretty painted face, I moved into the wig room. There were two wig options: the recommended half-wig incorporated your real hair into a hairpiece for a more natural effect; I opted for the full wig, which fit like a helmet with a built-in widow’s peak. The wig was heavy and a little tight but, by this time, I was too mesmerized by the transformation to be bothered by it.

I had pre-selected my kimono and it was waiting for me in the dressing room when I arrived. In a whirlwind of fluttering hands, I stood motionless as the numerous (I didn’t count but there were at least ten) pieces of the kimono ensemble were assembled around me. It felt like a many-faceted chastity belt. The assembly happened so quickly that I didn’t realize how tightly some of the ropes were wrapped around my torso. I mentioned to the woman dressing me that it was a little tight and her heavily accented, matter-of-fact response was “Kimono is tight.” I was out of my element, surrounded by Japanese speakers, and was perhaps too intimidated to push the issue so I tried to focus on expanding my constricted lungs upward rather than outward. That’s probably not physically possible but the thought of it seemed to quell the panic attack that was rising inside me.

The excitement at seeing the completed transformation for the first time in the mirror definitely distracted me. I just stared at myself in utter disbelief. The first thing I noticed is just how dissimilar are my facial features from Asian features. Admittedly, I made a pretty hideous geisha – Aaron noted my likeness to Eddie Munster (in a loving way, of course) – but in a costume as elaborate, bright and beautiful as a geisha’s, you feel simply exquisite.

I walked down to the first floor to pose for the professional photo and then to be admired by my adoring husband. After the brief photo session, the photographer informed the receptionist that I was ready to receive Aaron but returned with the deflating news that he had not yet returned. Suddenly, I remembered how tight my kimono was, which reignited the panic. What to do? I had just spent the equivalent of two nights accommodation on this frivolous girly pleasure. I certainly wasn’t going to rip it off before Aaron got to see me. I inhaled the deepest constricted breath that I could muster and sat down on a bench in the receiving room, trying to remain calm, for what seemed like some of the longest minutes of my adult life. It was worth it. When Aaron returned, he dutifully fawned over me and played Hollywood photographer, posing me in different lights and angles and perfecting my little fantasy. On a sunny day, you can pay extra to stroll or ride a rickshaw on the city streets in costume. I would have loved that but my indoor photo session was great fun.

While Aaron settled my bill, I went back upstairs to disrobe and wash the makeup off my face. The girls in the dressing room had me stripped down to my little pink robe in about 2.5 seconds – the makeup was another matter entirely. After about twenty minutes of rubbing myself raw with a soapy towel, I finally emerged downstairs looking disheveled but passable.

Little girls love to play “dress-up”. I don’t think that we ever lose that desire as women – we simply have fewer opportunities to play “make-believe”. After my geisha experience I was giddy for the rest of the day. It was a fun excuse to laugh, get pampered and be silly. What adult couldn’t use a little more of that?

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After a wonderful but long day of non-stop sightseeing, Tina collapsed on her bunk with a book and I decided to experience a little of Japan on my own. Reassured by our hostel manager that one of Kyoto’s ubiquitous ramen shops was a one-minute walk away, I ducked (literally, to avoid the curtain hanging above the door) into the first shop that I saw with a big red Japanese lantern out front. I was greeted with an enthusiastic ‘Irasshaimase!’ (Welcome!) by the husband-wife proprietors of the small, dimly lit establishment. I removed my shoes and took a seat at the counter in front of a small glass case displaying the day’s fresh fish. I sat staring at the five raw specimens, gutted and neatly displayed on a thin layer of ice cubes, their glassy eyes eerily returning my gaze. I flipped through the menu only to discover that it was entirely in Japanese. There were four tiny photos but they were too small to distinguish. A pang of anxiety coursed through me – the twinge of fear that you feel in that moment between realizing you’re in an uncomfortable situation and realizing that you can handle it.

A young couple on my left sipped cold sake, casually sampling their first course. A grey-haired, fifty-something salaryman sat drinking beer, chain-smoking and picking at his sashimi. Two short tables sat unoccupied on the tatami floor mats behind me. When the waitress arrived and greeted me in Japanese, I pointed to the salaryman’s beer mug; she smiled and nodded, returning quickly with a large draught beer. “Ramen?” I asked. She shook her head. As anticipated, she spoke very little English but was eager to help me order. With hand language and a lot of patience on her part, I managed to order a plate of soba noodles and a serving of chicken balls (like meatballs but made with ground chicken). It’s always safer ordering a vegetarian meal if possible, but at this point I knew that I couldn’t be too picky. In general, we have found the food in Japan to be of high quality.

The other patrons at the bar were now fully aware of the presence of a gaijin (foreigner) and the couple to my left smiled and attempted to initiate conversation. While it was a truly kind gesture, forced conversations between people who don’t speak the same language usually end in uncomfortable silence and soon I began staring once again at the fish in front of me. Slightly bored and certainly out of place, I ordered a small bottle of hot sake. The evening markedly improved with each sip.

Three cigarettes later, the chain-smoking salaryman departed and my dinner finally arrived. The noodles were swimming in a brown, gravy-like sauce, topped with octopus tentacles and thinly sliced pieces of mystery meat. The chicken balls were skewered and covered with a sweet and salty brown sauce, most closely resembling teriyaki. Ravenously hungry and eager to please my gracious hosts, I inhaled the surprisingly good meal.

As I was finishing my dinner, a man and a much younger woman sat down next to me at the bar. They lovingly entwined themselves as they glanced at the menu. The gentlemen inquired about one of fish in the glass case. The chef presented his best fish, enthusiastically exhibiting its freshness and quality. The couple nodded and the chef began preparing the fish as an appetizer. Minutes later, the dish was presented. The head of the fish was positioned face up on the left side of the plate and the tail was on the right, with the freshly carved boneless, skinless raw sashimi in the middle. Now that’s fresh!

Enthralled with the entire experience and slightly intoxicated, I hadn’t noticed that the restaurant had filled to capacity with throngs of cigarette-smoking salarymen. Eager for the fresh air awaiting me outside, I paid and left, merry, full and satisfied with the night’s accomplishments. Only later did I learn that I had stopped one shop too soon in my search for the ramen shop. I had stumbled upon an Izakaya, a traditional Japanese pub, and was treated to a truly authentic evening. No matter how much we may try to plan during this adventure, sometimes the most memorable experiences are accidental.

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From our home base of Kyoto, we hopped onto the train for a day trip to Nara. The Japan train and metro systems have proven to be wonderfully clean, easy to navigate, punctual, and ultimately efficient. Before arriving in Japan, we had purchased a Japan Rail Pass, which has enabled us to scramble around Japan at our usual manic pace with relative ease.

Nara is a small city but it is full of beautiful historic sites. It would be a push to see it all in one day but we were feeling equal to the task. We began our walking tour in the Nara-koen area – an expansive, centrally-located park around which many of Nara’s most impressive sites are situated. The park itself is well-known for its resident deer population which numbers around 1,200. The idea of this deer-filled park was thrilling for two reasons: first, because you never see that many deer in one place and second, because like most adorable, sweet-faced furry mammals, the doe-eyed deer remind us of our little angel puppy whom we miss terribly.

Immediately upon entering the park area, deer were indeed everywhere. In contrast to most wild deer, which are skittish around humans, these deer are completely approachable and even initiate interactions with people passing by. This behavior was most certainly learned by generations of deer being hand-fed shika-sembei (deer biscuits) which are available for purchase at numerous sidewalk carts around the park. As we passed by one of the carts, a middle-aged Japanese man in business casual attire had just purchased a stack of biscuits and taken a few steps away from the cart to tear off the paper packaging. Before he knew what was happening, four impatient deer surrounded him, pulling on his sport coat and nudging him simultaneously until he finally dropped the biscuits and scurried away. We watched other tourists along the way attempting to feed the deer and getting similarly harassed, which was endlessly entertaining.

At my request, we stopped off at Issui-en, a magnificent secluded garden just a couple of blocks off the main road. Aaron opted to wait outside but urged me to take my time inside. Excited by the prospect of a rare moment of solitude, I slipped through the entrance and walked slowly around the grounds while all sensations of stress and urgency dissipated into the fragrant air. It was a garden scene from a fairy tale. As we have come to expect from Japanese gardens, Issui-en was meticulously kept and seemingly designed to coincide with the practice of Zen – “a school of Mahanya Buddhism notable for its emphasis on mindful acceptance of the present moment, spontaneous action, and letting go of self-conscious and judgmental thinking” (Wikipedia). Even a short stroll through one of these oases of serenity gently propels you into the remaining day’s embrace in a calm, cool and collected frame of mind. When I rejoined my husband, he could immediately discern by my peaceful expression that I had found my happy place.

Back at Nara-koen, we spent some time watching the deer snooze in the sunshine and interact with the people. Any person carrying food, be it deer biscuits or an ice cream cone, was fair game. While the park spans a large area, the learned deer naturally gravitate toward the biscuit vendors, meaning that the highest concentrations are on and around the pedestrian walkways. There are multiple city employees whose sole responsibility seems to be sweeping deer droppings from the sidewalks. The deer at Nara are “the descendents of the sacred messengers of gods of the Kasuga shrine” located in Nara. (japundit.com) Because they are sacred, they are protected by law. Between the absence of predators and the prevalence of deer biscuits, they have thrived and multiplied.

We somehow managed to tear ourselves away from the deer long enough to check out Nara’s star architectural attraction, Todai-ji – an awe-inspiring Buddhist temple that is also the world’s largest wooden building. The entrance gate to the temple complex houses two enormous, thirteenth-century wooden statues. The protective screens and the statues’ gargantuan height precluded us from getting a decent photo, especially with our little point-and-shoot camera, but to give you some perspective, the statue’s pinky toe is two to three times larger than the average human head. Having served as Japanese gargoyles, the statues are monstrous and lifelike.

The main hall of Todai-ji, called Daibutsu-den (Hall of the Great Buddha), contains a sixteen-meter-tall bronze Buddha statue. Since it was originally cast in 746, repeated earthquakes have caused the statue’s head to fall off; while the body of the figure is the original, the Buddha has undergone restorative procedures to reconstruct the head after each of several decapitations.

Behind the Buddha is a wooden support beam with a hole born into it, the size of which is identical to that of the Buddha’s nostril. Legend has it that those who can pass through the hole will achieve enlightenment. We watched in amusement as schoolchildren on a field trip passed through the hole with relative ease. Still, as the skinny, nimble pre-adolescents slipped through, there did not appear to be much excess wiggle room. Being naturally small-boned, I slipped through almost effortlessly, despite my newly-acquired travel chub. A group of European backpacker-types stood around the opening, sizing it up for a grand attempt. We walked away while they were still debating the possibilities but, as we neared the temple exit, Aaron decided that he wanted a chance at enlightenment too. We turned around and headed back for the beam, passing the Europeans who, having slightly narrower frames than Aaron, had shied away from the challenge. When we told them that Aaron was going to go for it, they too turned back to watch the big guy get stuck in the hole. After doing a few stretches to limber up, the brave Bear, who had by then attracted a good-sized audience, crouched down and inserted himself, arms first, into the opening. The outward appearance of the hole was deceiving because it was a bit smaller in the middle than it was on either side. Aaron managed to slide his arms through far enough for me to grab his hands and gently yank his shoulders and torso through. From there, he was able to pull the rest of his big bear body through, much to the amazement and applause of the crowd. Aaron was a hamming it up for his fans and I was relieved that my dear husband would not have to wallow in the depths of ignorant darkness while I basked in the bliss of enlightenment.

Back on the street, we leisurely climbed the hill to another hall in the temple complex – Nigatsu-do – to take in the beautiful view of Nara from its upper level. Most of the cityscape resembles the drab, boxy architecture of Kyoto; however, the graceful curves of the traditional Japanese rooftops were quite impressive. We walked by the Kasuga Taisha shrine (again, trying to pace ourselves on the interior shrine/temple/castle tours so as not to get “Buddhaed out”) and later the temple called Kofuku-ji. Kofuku-ji consists of two pagodas, one of which is a five-storey, tower-like pagoda which, in my mind, epitomizes historic Japan.

Somewhere between the temple and the shrine, I had a momentary lapse of reason and decided that I needed to feed the deer. The quiet road was seemingly buffered from the bustling Nara-koen but the terraced hill on one side was nonetheless populated with twenty or thirty deer. The nearest biscuit-cart was unmanned but I saw a small stack of coins in the corner of a cardboard box top which also contained several stacks of deer biscuits. I counted out 150 yen (about $1.50) and exchanged my coins for a single stack. As expected, several deer had followed my every move around the biscuit cart and quickly moved in on me as I attempted to tear off the paper packaging. Having seen the deer in action with other tourists who were crazy enough to attempt the hand-feed, I had anticipated the encroachment. I was not prepared, however, by their aggressive attempts via synchronized nudging, bucking and nipping to score the coveted treats. I tried desperately to keep my composure long enough to break the biscuits into pieces so that the weaker contenders might have a chance at a few crumbs but, as I held the stack out of their desperate reach, the alpha member nipped me on the little piece of chub right under my belly button. Damn! I knew I should’ve been working on my six pack! It didn’t hurt but startled me enough to drop the biscuits with the wrapper still attached and run. We laughed later as we discovered that Aaron caught me in a photo at the precise moment that the little perpetrator had my chub in his grip. The expression on my face went from nervous excitement to pure terror. Needless to say, I don’t recommend feeding the deer in Nara, no matter how sweet and docile they appear. While they may let you pet them and pose with them like little angels, they will not hesitate to bite the chub attached to the hand that feeds them.

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