Japan: Yokohama

Of my eight nights in Tokyo, I didn't sleep for four of them.  Not even a little.  The night before I went to Yokohama for the day I had been karaoking with basically my entire hostel.  A Californian native with a Korean background (Clara), a guy from the states, a girl from Australia and I were sitting around the lounge when Noraebongs came up.  In Korean, it literally means "a place of singing".  Karaoke is actually a Japanese word, combining "kara" which means "empty" and "oke" which means "orchestra", literally meaning "empty orchestra". 

We did not have to tell the rest of the hostel this to get them to come.  Two Spaniards, two Dutch guys (Kyle and Steve), two girls who were also teaching in Korea, a teacher from Oregon, and the first guy I met at the hostel--the one who was going to try and get arrested in order to have a place to stay--all went out for some good old-fashioned singing. 

Then it was 5 a.m., and everyone went to bed except me, (of course), Steve, and the girl from Australia.  We stayed up and watched the Olympics, talking about the randomness that is life.  The girl got up to get something and peaked out the window.  "You guys, the sun is up. I'm going to bed," she said and she left the room rushing for her bed, as if going to bed before the sun fully rose would somehow help her avoid the inevitable hangover that awaited her.

Steve's eyebrows went up: "Do you want to walk to the river and watch the sunrise?"

I said yes immediately, which I think surprised him, and we set out.  Thankfully, the hostel is only a short walk, but on the way I managed to make an enemy out of a stray cat.  Happy, a little drunk, and a little delusional from lack of sleep, we began a sort of staring contest in which I most undoubtedly lost: it resulted in my running down a random street in Tokyo and dodging around corners trying to lose something that has been on the streets its whole life, who knows every detail.  I think it realized its advantage because when I gave up and stopped to face my attacker, it merely looked at me in a way only cats can, and slunk away into some well-known escape route.  Unscathed, we made it to the river, and I bought us the only brand of coffee I could find at that hour.  It was awful. Still, the conversation, the talk of culture, (he made me read dutch just so he could laugh at my accent), the river, Tokyo as the sun rose, and the watered-down coffee was my moment.  It's mine, in my life.  Something about that is beautiful.

We made plans to meet at 10 a.m. after a three hour nap and head to Yokohama.  On the way we recruited Clara and Kyle.  A short train ride from Shibuya Station and we were in an entirely different place, a place I was relieved to be in.  Living in New York City, a tiny island of 9 million people, I thought I could handle any sort of crowd.  Escaping Tokyo, however, was like bursting out from under water.  I sucked in the cool air and could see, even as we emerged from the ground, the blue from the ocean peeking out from over the next street. 

First Clara and I decided that we should explore Chinatown, and I sucked down a bubble tea as I wandered through three stories of a panda store, looking at panda key chains, panda fans, panda pillows, panda lighters, and everything in between.  My companions had gotten caught up in the scenery outside, and as I headed back out onto the street, a Japanese girl approached me.  She had pigtails on the sides of her head, with different colored highlights streaming up until they faded at her perfectly black hairlines.  She was wearing white platform boots and an outfit that was entirely metallic gold.  When my eyes finally reached her face, I realized she was wearing pink blush in perfectly round circles and fake eyelashes. 

"Can I take your picture?" she asked.

I was shocked. This real-life doll wanted to take my picture?  Because I couldn't think straight I said yes, and became even more surprised when she held out her hand for my camera.  She wanted to take a picture of me with my camera?  As I computed this I saw her become startled by something behind me.  I followed her gaze across the street, and there was Steve taking a picture of us talking.  I had to calm her down, explain that he was a friend, and that photography was his hobby, to someone who spoke only Japanese.  Like the cat I frightened earlier she scurried away, and with a half-hearted good-bye she was gone.

From there Clara and I figured out how to leave Chinatown and find the park, which was right on the water.  We walked up it, consulting maps as the boys recorded each other doing fancy tricks and running around.  I was intent on finding a certain park I had read about online: the abandoned and broken-down remains of a foreigner's village from when Japan had completely closed it's borders at the beginning of the 20th century.  Something about that was fascinating to me.  Imagine being trapped in a country like Japan, where even their religion--Christianity--was considered crazy.  They picked up the language, and the culture, and adjusted to the seasons while they taught their Japanese neighbors tennis.  What a comfort tennis must have been for them.  Just when I had lost hope we found it.  Finding these dilapidated western buildings was exciting to me.  We could see where the plumbing for the bathroom was, where the living room used to be, and how big their houses were.  The hike was up a significant hill, but well worth it.  At the top were the most stunning views of the city, and we sat there for a long time pointing out the old-styled houses, the modern buildings, the windmills and power plants, the boats and trains and bridges and footpaths.  Looking out, we realized it really was a marriage of old and new.  The traditions and technology weren't competing, but working side by side, creating a new landscape I'd never come close to seeing before.

Starving, we decided to splurge on dinner.  Travelling for a while means budgeting--you can't go out for every meal if your travelling for months.  Travelling in Japan in a whole other story.  It means not going out for meals ever.  The day was perfect, however, and I think the fresh city-free air made us feel like we had escaped it all, and we invested in the first restaurant we saw.  Clara and I ordered beers while the boys had water and juice.  Steve tried a scallop for the first time.  I ate roasted peanuts off of a stick.  We sat there like old friends, talking about our day, planning for the next.  Before I knew it, it was time to get on a bus to Kyoto.  I had just made friends, and it was time to move on.  Steve was heading back home soon, Clara was moving onto yet another country, and I was headed south on a midnight bus, moving onward, towards a brand new city with new people and adventures in store. 

Japan: Tokyo: Day 1

The night before I was leaving for Japan, a co-worker had a going away party.  I was planning to have a drink then go straight to bed, but before I knew it is was 1 a.m.  I had an early flight for which I had to be up at 5 a.m. for, so I did the responsible thing and decided to recruit people to stay up through the night with me.

One buddy had an 11 a.m. flight to Taiwan, and promptly got us another round to buckle in for the night.  One friend wasn't going anywhere for break, and because of that, had nothing to lose and stayed up along with us.  I have wonderful friends.

After talking, and laughing, and hanging out all night I noticed the time around 5 a.m. and realized I had to actually go home, grab my suitcase, and head to the airport.  The only moment I thought maybe staying up had been a bad idea was when I saw buddy #1 from the bus as it drove away.  He was crossing the street in his sunglasses, some comfortable travel clothes, a rolling suitcase and a over-sized stuffed dinosaur that was bright blue with yellow stripes.  I texted him, advising him as a grown man to not bring a stuffed animal on an international flight and fell asleep against the cold, hard, shaky bus window. 

 

I didn't realize until I was on the flight just what I was in for--the slightly familiar Korean was being announced, followed by Japanese.  There was very little, if not any, English.  I tried to relax and fall asleep, but it's no easy feat on Asiana Airlines.  On a two hour flight you are catered to the entire time, being given drinks, a full meal, and dessert.  Just as they cleared off the last of my coffee we were ready to land in Narita Aiport.

I wish I could tell you how I got to the hostel, but the multitude of the people, the speed of the train, and my lack of sleep resulted in me somehow standing in the lobby of the Khaosan Tokyo Ninja Hotel listening to an abnormally tall Swedish man trying to figure out where to sleep for the night.  I've come to find every hostel has that person--the person who's been travelling too long.  That person who is past comfort, past planning ahead, out of money, and has on some level lost their sense of reality.

"I'm sorry," the girl behind the desk was saying, "we're fully booked for tonight."

"Shit.  Well, I saw a park around the corner.  Maybe I'll stay there."

"Don't sleep in the park.  You'll get arrested."

"Nah, it's fine."

"No really, you shouldn't sleep in the park."

"If they arrest me, hey, at least I'll have a place to sleep."

To this the girl had no response, and she went silent.  I took this opportunity to inch around the man, check-in, leave my bags in the lobby, and just explore.  By pure luck I ended up in Asakusa, which has a famous five-story pagoda, Kaminarimon (Thunder) Gate, and most notably, Senso-Ji, Tokyo's oldest temple.  It was the perfect place to get a taste of Japan.  It's where old met new in imaginative ways I couldn't have dreamed up myself.  Girls were dressed up as geishas with their designer bags hanging from their arms.  Men pulled people in carriages while the subway rumbled from below.  Shops sold generic key chains probably made in China while men demonstrated their artful fan-making skills.  The iconic gate, originally built in 942, stood glaringly wooden and defiant amidst a sea of shiny modern buildings.  I allowed myself to get lost in the crowd, gazing at intricately painted ceilings, tasting different foods I had never seen before, and cleansing myself in both the purifying water and incense smoke. 

After some time the weight of the last 24 hours got to me, so I found a fairly accessible menu and rested.  I ordered some skewered chicken, edamame, and a Sapporo.  Sitting there, enjoying the silence of this little restaurant, I realized two things.

1) This was not Korea.  This was not western.  This was the culture of Japan with technology, and I had better be ready.

2) Japan was going to be expensive.  ($1 = 0.75 yen, while 1 KRW = 0.53 yen)

I paid, and as I was wondering back out into the street I was chased down by my waiter.

"These are for you," he said, handing me three separate bouquets of flowers.  I wanted to ask why. I wanted to talk to him or at least tell him my name.  All I could muster was an "arigato" before he bowed and simply went back inside to the air conditioning.  Despite my exhaustion, I felt a lightness in my step as a went back to the main road.  I looked around, and felt a sense of uneasiness.  Something was different.  I knew where I was and where I had to go.  I saw the bridge all lit up and the people, but nothing was blatantly wrong.  Then it hit me: the people were in the street, and there were no cars.  Tokyo was truly mine.  I joined the crowd, and purposely walked right in the middle of the street, passing through intersections and major roads whimsically.  A girl I had talked to earlier at the temple called to me, and I went back to the sidewalk.

"We're selling beer," she said, less to sell me one and more as a definitive statement.

"What is going on?  Where is everyone going?"

"There's a really popular fireworks festival starting just now.  It lasts, like, two hours."

"Wow."

"Where did you get those flowers?" 

"Here," I said, handing her the purple bouquet, "take them. Aren't they beautiful?"  I looked at her friends and offered them the other two, happy to pass on the happiness I felt.  These flowers were meant to be passed on for no other reason than that, it seems.

"Thank you!  Here, have a beer.  Enjoy the show!"

I spent the night wandering in and out of crowds as we all stood, or sat, or laid right in the street facing the night sky.  I watched buildings turn green, then gold, then purple.  I watched the water as it emulated the colors and shapes above.  I watched friends, and couples, and strangers all gather in the streets in silence and watch the colors move around the night sky.  It was a fitting welcome to Japan.

Busan: Pobi Guesthouse, KTX, and foreigners (Part 1)

Two friends and I decided to take full advantage of the four day weekend we had for Buddha's birthday and headed to Busan.  Because Korean holidays follow the lunar calendar, the holiday happened to coincide with Memorial Day back in the states this particular year.  Because I told my sister about Buddha's Birthday and her response was "Oh he just wants a Memorial Day weekend, how's he doing by the way?", I figured I would provide a quick summary, proving that Buddha is not fine but is indeed more or less dead, and the holiday has been celebrated for signifigantly longer than any and all modern war veterans:

No one is very sure of Siddartha's place of birth or when he was born, but the most popular theory is that he was born somewhere near Nepal between 500-400 B.C.  Buddha is not his name but became his title, which simply means "enlightened one".  He was raised a spoiled, fairly ignorant prince and it is believed that it wasn't until he became a young adult that he became aware of pain and suffering in the world.  He became obsessed with the idea of eternal hapiness and tried a bunch of crazy things from running away from the palace, his wife and child, to giving away all material goods to starving himself nearly to death.  Finally he sat under a tree for something like 40 days and there he finally attained enlightenment.  In this state, called Nirvana, no identity exists perse as all ailments (including greed, regret, anger, hunger, etc.) are eliminated.  These are called "dukka", and "The Four Noble Truths" explain these, how they affect us, and how to overcome them using the "The Noble Eightfold Path". Historians are not even sure what language Buddha used but we do know that he taught his practice to all classes despite gender or ethnicity.  Hence Buddhism was established with a strong following throughout Asia, and according to the super reliable Wikipedia, there are about 300-500 million Buddhists today. 

I fact-checked on various websites, but I know most all of this because I was just about set to become a Buddhist my freshman year of college.  I then realized it was highly impractical to try and eliminate all desire when you live in a society where you are considered dead if you don't have a phone or a facebook.  Still, part of the teaching is moderation--you may not be able to eliminate all desires in life, but you can practice meditation or simply remind yourself that the human mind is above that dress or sunglasses you want and a form of happiness is indeed possible with,some level of inner  peace.  My other idol, Kurt Vonnegut once said: "And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'”

Lastly: If you are still interested and I haven't bored you to death, I highly reccomend Herman Hesse's "Siddartha".  A colorful biography of the Buddha's life, it's a simple, easy, quick read that will stay with you when you're stuck in traffic or run out of money or get sunscreen in your eye.

Back to my Busan adventure:

By bus, the trip takes over five hours, but for just a little bit of extra won we found ourselves in a comfortable train going 315 kilometers/hour (about 200 miles per hour). The KTX train split our time in half and, anxious to get my feet in some sand, I was more than happy to spend the extra money.

Our planning was last minute, so we had no choice in hostel and ended up at the only place with availability: the Pobi Guesthouse.  Expecting the worst, we could not believe our luck:  the hostel was friendly, well-organized, very clean, and super safe.  We had computer access as well as free wi-fi, shampoo, a decent breakfast, a personal locker, and clean sheets.  Not only that, but besides being directly on the beach we were the next closest building to it.  It's always a good sign when the place you're staying reads "Please wipe off sand".

The first thing we noticed walking around the downtown area was the amount of foreigners.  Being a holiday weekend, it seemed that every foreign teacher had headed to Busan...and we weren't fans.  A group that sat next to us at dinner literally flexed his muscles and pointed when we asked which way the beach was.  Then they recomended a "Foreigner Bar". By the time we got to the beach it was dark, and after sliding down a giant pile of sand with all the little kids, admiring some amateur fireworks displays, and working our way up and down the length of the beach, we found ourselves growing silent.  The ocean has something magical about it--even without seeing it you can simply feel the void it fills as the unknown.  Haeundae Beach, which is the most popular beach in Busan, has it's own mini bay with land curling up on the sides.  As we looked out we could see the hotel and building lights reach out into the sea then end abruptly, swallowed by vast darkness.  The waves lazily lapped on rocks rhythmically and we sat looking out into nothing, trying to imagine just where in the universe we where.

The weekend included lounging on the beach, mexican food at both the Fuzzy Navel and Taco Senorita, soju (obviously), Namaste Indian Food, a very neon bar called 88 in Miami, hiking, Yongungsa Temple, Seokbulsa Temple, and a free jetski ride out far enough to see the city of Busan and the mountain backdrop that protects it.  Those stories are too cool to summarize, and this post is obnoxiously long as it is, so feel free to click those links to find out what happens. It's like a Make-Your-Own-Adventure Book! Remember those?  Turn to page 5 if you decide this stuff is somewhat interesting....