tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68680067827572098232024-03-05T23:02:26.580-05:00UNite to Combat Climate Change - Ride JapanIn summer 2009, Charles Scott and his son Sho (age 8) are attempting to ride connected bikes 2,900 miles (4,700km) from the northern tip of Japan to the southern tip. They will post blogs from their adventure here. See www.japanbikeride.com for details.Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-80243330968167019772009-08-30T08:19:00.002-04:002009-08-30T08:25:18.805-04:00Day 67: Cape Sata!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_MUYH6IR6poREQ_h5GLPPextF3q94-RwcNpUs7nkNXkZ4DbwmiH_mtjoPtb57TiNCjjyabryDHQJu7lKv7SZ9js5ln0vm4IeXuMpby_M78xS5nAXMGphpTTFy8Drz0_tqyUfVxlPXQFh/s1600-h/IMG_3596.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_MUYH6IR6poREQ_h5GLPPextF3q94-RwcNpUs7nkNXkZ4DbwmiH_mtjoPtb57TiNCjjyabryDHQJu7lKv7SZ9js5ln0vm4IeXuMpby_M78xS5nAXMGphpTTFy8Drz0_tqyUfVxlPXQFh/s320/IMG_3596.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375731800008413234" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Sunday, August 30, 2009</span><div> <span lang="EN-US">We made it!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'MS 明朝';"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US">It took us 67 days to ride our bikes the length of mainland Japan: almost 3,000 miles from Cape Soya, the northern most point of Hokkaido, to Cape Sata, the southern most point of Kyushu.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></div> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">We slept last night in a small hotel in Minami Osumi, about 22 miles away from Cape Sata.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We started riding at 8:30am and enjoyed stunning ocean views as we pedaled up and down the challenging coastal road.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was a sunny day, 90 degrees, and we were drenched with sweat when we reached the cape.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Akira Saito, a friend we made in Hokkaido, rode with us and took the attached picture.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Sho was nonchalant about the whole thing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>As we stared out over the beautiful, sparkling ocean from the cape, I asked him if it had been hard to bike across Japan.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He shuffled his feet and said, “Kinda.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">We’ll take a train back to Tokyo on Sep 1 to be reunited with my wife Eiko and 2-year old daughter Saya, and return to NYC on Sep 5.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s been a great adventure!</span></p>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-46314545331978938292009-08-30T08:13:00.002-04:002009-08-30T08:19:28.573-04:00Day 66: Kushima to Minami Osumi<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Saturday, August 29, 2009</span><div> Biked 70km (43 miles) from Kushima to Minami Osumi with our cycling buddy Saito-san. Stopped at the Kanoya Air Base Museum, which includes a collection of photos of the 800+ kamikaze pilots who took off from Kanoya during WW II. The collection of final farewell letters to their families is moving and a sad reminder of the insanity of war.</div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-42791241076775896702009-08-28T17:52:00.003-04:002011-05-19T14:36:16.855-04:00Day 65: Miyazaki to Kushima<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span">Friday, August 28, 2009</span> <br /><div>Sho and I biked with Saito-san 90km (56 miles) from Miyazaki to Kushima, taking side trips to beautiful oceanside shrines in Aoshima and Udo Jingu. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-91302541841672928262009-08-27T18:21:00.002-04:002011-05-19T14:35:58.606-04:00Day 64: Hyuga to Miyazaki<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span">Thursday, August 27, 2009</span> <br /><div>Sho and I biked with Saito-san 70km (44 miles) from Hyuga to Miyazaki. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-61695518728675649782009-08-26T04:14:00.003-04:002011-05-19T14:35:31.709-04:00Day 63: Saiki to Hyuga<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span">Wednesday, August 26, 2009</span> <br /><div>Biked 85km (53 miles) from Saiki to Hyuga with Saito-san. Hilly ride through some beautiful mountains. Sunny, 85 degrees. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-34151906624324326932009-08-25T09:12:00.002-04:002011-05-19T14:35:13.177-04:00Day 62: Beppu to Saiki<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span">Tuesday, August 25, 2009</span> <br /><div><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span"></span>Rode 80km (50 miles) from Beppu to Saiki with Saito-san. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-33913244137229586212009-08-25T09:08:00.003-04:002011-05-19T14:34:55.686-04:00Day 61: Taketazu to Beppu<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span">Monday, August 24, 2009</span> <br /><div>Rode 80km (50 miles) from Taketazu to Beppu with Saito-san. Stayed in a ryoukan traditional Japanese inn with a great onsen bath. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-27147737410721737172009-08-23T08:48:00.003-04:002011-05-19T14:34:36.672-04:00Day 60: Entering Kyushu<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span">Sunday, August 23, 2009</span> <br /><div>Biked 60km (37 miles) from Iwakuni to Shunan, then took 2-hour ferry to Taketazu on Kyushu. Sho and I walked over the Kintai-kyo Bridge and saw the albino snakes of Iwakuni in the morning. We met up with our friend Saito-san in Shunan and rode the ferry together. The three of us are staying in a youth hostel, and had fun shooting off fireworks together. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-90306568011040441762009-08-22T07:33:00.003-04:002011-05-19T14:34:16.205-04:00Day 59: Miyajima and Iwakuni<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span">Saturday, August 22, 2009</span> <br /><div>We rode from Hiroshima to Miyajima, taking a ferry to visit Itsukushima Jinja Shrine. It was a hot day, and we threw the ball in the ocean underneath the huge orange torii gate in front of the shrine. We continued on to Iwakuni, where we spent the night. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-8820991351315064052009-08-22T07:30:00.001-04:002009-08-22T07:33:02.799-04:00Day 58: Hiroshima<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Friday, August 21, 2009</span><div> Sho and I spent the day touring Hiroshima with our friend Saito-san. We spent an hour and a half at the devastatingly sad Peace Memorial Museum, then cheered up at the Children's Museum and Planetarium. Details coming soon.</div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-68433796616545340462009-08-22T07:27:00.003-04:002011-05-19T14:33:57.912-04:00Day 57: Onomichi to Hiroshima<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span">Thursday, August 20, 2009</span> <br /><div>Biked 80km (50 miles) from Onomichi to Hiroshima on the busy and hilly Route 2, joined by our friend Saito-san. We stayed with Miyuki Nomura, who graciously hosted us in her home in Hiroshima. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-84912815055308073992009-08-19T19:41:00.004-04:002011-05-19T14:33:37.765-04:00Day 56: Shimanami Kaido<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span">Wednesday, August 19, 2009</span> <br /><div>Biked 90km (56 miles) from Imabari to Onomichi, along the incredibly beautiful Shimanami Kaido cycling route. Tomoko Sagara flew in from Tokyo to ride with us for the day. It was the longest she'd ever ridden a bike, and she did great! Also, Saito-san, our friend we met in Hokkaido 6 weeks ago, caught up with us, and we rode together all day. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-44862928505041288902009-08-19T19:39:00.002-04:002011-05-19T14:33:10.512-04:00Day 55: Matsuyama to Imabari<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span">Tuesday, August 18, 2009</span> <br /><div>Biked 60km (37 miles) from Matsuyama to Imabari. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-15117272711310749522009-08-17T19:46:00.005-04:002011-05-19T14:30:27.169-04:00Day 54: Kochi and Matsuyama<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg9f-Q1AqedFQy1HgLBistTlyUKC2RdXtwCqdtJQp2-sZP8qDFxzuMTbbaGwKFUvtrY6aXgGb127PQtzcXAmlD9lRQwfUxPhJt9qn3iuhysGZ9VdVJGq1QYSzQgOBOZpaAoQtBcWie9Etg/s1600-h/IMG_3347.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376757939494655506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg9f-Q1AqedFQy1HgLBistTlyUKC2RdXtwCqdtJQp2-sZP8qDFxzuMTbbaGwKFUvtrY6aXgGb127PQtzcXAmlD9lRQwfUxPhJt9qn3iuhysGZ9VdVJGq1QYSzQgOBOZpaAoQtBcWie9Etg/s320/IMG_3347.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzvZliJ2ZobQGI42hCaH0SjgpLswLKxS-ra9b-wdLxyHj32-vWW4l8aMuK3OcvrAjm1A0hNWzrjaAJ2ovSrU_UUlGQY7okdpHUJQHDLunGv_DUsxhhyphenhyphend6uAtxv9P7YtkM5xk59HrM-M4vB/s1600-h/IMG_3350.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376757928267141634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzvZliJ2ZobQGI42hCaH0SjgpLswLKxS-ra9b-wdLxyHj32-vWW4l8aMuK3OcvrAjm1A0hNWzrjaAJ2ovSrU_UUlGQY7okdpHUJQHDLunGv_DUsxhhyphenhyphend6uAtxv9P7YtkM5xk59HrM-M4vB/s320/IMG_3350.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfhsqhDmQ27sZcKWbGR1yLEqtlfFZPQSIRlS3AljddUKpi6aNh546DRNrMrCP4hyphenhyphend-TfXoQw_HdL9EimlcbI6dK-mt5iwYdF6lTj8nXt1GR2Rqy5zXWI5aNJFiWWrKgPixHqWr3GsDKXHc/s1600-h/IMG_3354.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376757919538102834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfhsqhDmQ27sZcKWbGR1yLEqtlfFZPQSIRlS3AljddUKpi6aNh546DRNrMrCP4hyphenhyphend-TfXoQw_HdL9EimlcbI6dK-mt5iwYdF6lTj8nXt1GR2Rqy5zXWI5aNJFiWWrKgPixHqWr3GsDKXHc/s320/IMG_3354.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span">Monday, August 17, 2009</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Itami-san drove us to Kochi, where we spent the morning playing on the beach at Katsurahama. Sho and I biked 110km to Matsuyama, from 1 - 7pm.</div></div></div></div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-65049417515387404832009-08-17T19:43:00.003-04:002011-05-19T14:28:44.832-04:00Day 53: Toyohama Friend<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6rTjxPdzEQ3sXmbUOeQlZkSQQ_tXeb5GPjr5_veik5NTmUoYdr845UWr-sgEV9gPgEIw8yAOM7hLBE512zIyzwG-WcWaPcMJvZ7HT89pKhTaX8Ocp6x3LRmkvs2VJT5-FzSzTTV7PZ2I/s1600-h/IMG_3334.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374428554719568306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6rTjxPdzEQ3sXmbUOeQlZkSQQ_tXeb5GPjr5_veik5NTmUoYdr845UWr-sgEV9gPgEIw8yAOM7hLBE512zIyzwG-WcWaPcMJvZ7HT89pKhTaX8Ocp6x3LRmkvs2VJT5-FzSzTTV7PZ2I/s320/IMG_3334.JPG" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWGFUTkTzMgRnyYAcBTDZvj74_mI6gx4WCbwhXLApkbCO7GQ8sFyLNVnjNzEwWq7qK_alLRM2PCFb92svcq9Kd4iJQnZatcHvCAsLeDJyeThuoxKhXn6SzeXvjj4Fiv7Dex0i63mQWV8MT/s1600-h/IMG_3332.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374428540314316098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWGFUTkTzMgRnyYAcBTDZvj74_mI6gx4WCbwhXLApkbCO7GQ8sFyLNVnjNzEwWq7qK_alLRM2PCFb92svcq9Kd4iJQnZatcHvCAsLeDJyeThuoxKhXn6SzeXvjj4Fiv7Dex0i63mQWV8MT/s320/IMG_3332.JPG" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNryaeT4DPHRGjAezQGFbu6XdWg34nynFW409BW9I0OlWSEdccRzKW4x6oMmQ8oppZ_TezLIygIhb6ax-DDDdLF8t70jXLIoYyFeGrvTBDx9sWLjXWYdaw_x5vNzXFVjWAXm4awva1Nr_B/s1600-h/IMG_3323.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374428534957788226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNryaeT4DPHRGjAezQGFbu6XdWg34nynFW409BW9I0OlWSEdccRzKW4x6oMmQ8oppZ_TezLIygIhb6ax-DDDdLF8t70jXLIoYyFeGrvTBDx9sWLjXWYdaw_x5vNzXFVjWAXm4awva1Nr_B/s320/IMG_3323.JPG" /></a><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span">Sunday, August 16, 2009</span> <br /><div><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span"></span>Biked 60km from Takamatsu to Toyohama. Met Junji Itami, who let us sleep in his community center.</div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-58800815925405190402009-08-17T19:41:00.004-04:002011-05-19T14:32:15.696-04:00Day 52: Naruto Whirlpools<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwJdKEA46au2kdviC_Ddg7EjnwndT0aKctOJL5zeZFbi00JFl7cjxEdG4XHMpKSAtjeXi7SkbNbuPKUYz6Iqif2xU7dib_kyxFLZne6YgOJYACC1XQncn325IYKiej3wQwSy1DJ4ZeAe2/s1600-h/IMG_3295.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374409748492492306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwJdKEA46au2kdviC_Ddg7EjnwndT0aKctOJL5zeZFbi00JFl7cjxEdG4XHMpKSAtjeXi7SkbNbuPKUYz6Iqif2xU7dib_kyxFLZne6YgOJYACC1XQncn325IYKiej3wQwSy1DJ4ZeAe2/s320/IMG_3295.JPG" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGc14tidPqhHc_0QgDJeCu_PVvn-ZQbpS_uciTOC8CobipjV7OxIsy_qddh3Dr559lIXmm39AOm-FrezUZtUnFsisb2H_Z3a1Vb0g_wIpa0uOPpt72z7_AoaYaji_JNCpUQTSrpTQdWK30/s1600-h/IMG_3297.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374409742197293618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGc14tidPqhHc_0QgDJeCu_PVvn-ZQbpS_uciTOC8CobipjV7OxIsy_qddh3Dr559lIXmm39AOm-FrezUZtUnFsisb2H_Z3a1Vb0g_wIpa0uOPpt72z7_AoaYaji_JNCpUQTSrpTQdWK30/s320/IMG_3297.JPG" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmTc8HmYMRmiXlPnnBoDmmkW-8BNjY_rivfX-cFGGLH4im7JvqkTqmUUO0UM9Q8XU3nuPIRhGrd2ZlNtPXkD_XZdMoF8Tq-delC86ZrngyrRC8UowkSwVOCfGk4crvCaXWN9Il_IJSKEo/s1600-h/IMG_3314.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374409727897118034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmTc8HmYMRmiXlPnnBoDmmkW-8BNjY_rivfX-cFGGLH4im7JvqkTqmUUO0UM9Q8XU3nuPIRhGrd2ZlNtPXkD_XZdMoF8Tq-delC86ZrngyrRC8UowkSwVOCfGk4crvCaXWN9Il_IJSKEo/s320/IMG_3314.JPG" /></a><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold" class="Apple-style-span">Saturday, August 15, 2009</span> <br /><div>Biked from 110km from Tokushima to Takamatsu, with a side excursion to see the whirlpools under Naruto Ohashi Bridge. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-66066263834243058372009-08-15T21:07:00.006-04:002011-05-19T14:31:41.131-04:00Day 51: Ferry from Wakayama to Tokushima<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIP_y67JxPUaT97K3dTlFbaIf6hSMgvyG1QNjvUxOWMf_mjGv2WTMuUBM7wfoIK15tuI-SFnfGb6l_dglI5YMnE6CME9y5lLM8tqfTmV8xs6SFbtpws-eJ5wV0TICIzGpMArHlRCWQgLWO/s1600-h/IMG_3276.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372952423118972178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIP_y67JxPUaT97K3dTlFbaIf6hSMgvyG1QNjvUxOWMf_mjGv2WTMuUBM7wfoIK15tuI-SFnfGb6l_dglI5YMnE6CME9y5lLM8tqfTmV8xs6SFbtpws-eJ5wV0TICIzGpMArHlRCWQgLWO/s320/IMG_3276.JPG" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigvDJkvKw4s4n1VIKZ9-D581p-1heV5r44xmbZm6tmvNHhsdnlktd0_gJ3bVXMBZX2l11SBYOPisOHkjXion8J5J2UdGCpMPXNlOW7tHKmlYwlC5XVAuYlAKyBf7IPFaNcD1gFrv6jasMo/s1600-h/IMG_3283.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372952413123407314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigvDJkvKw4s4n1VIKZ9-D581p-1heV5r44xmbZm6tmvNHhsdnlktd0_gJ3bVXMBZX2l11SBYOPisOHkjXion8J5J2UdGCpMPXNlOW7tHKmlYwlC5XVAuYlAKyBf7IPFaNcD1gFrv6jasMo/s320/IMG_3283.JPG" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga6CD-8qQ8gfvUBnwEiq6b2xH4QeB2uWl5QJ3xpa00kq3-dAjuQ7C-ki2WfRcpKPW2M8KTT1zPfCx4m6LpuVXC5ScmWISBO-0CiJYgW411v5s9S5JK6ZICBRX6_tHvNiX-EyJfjrj0c6k5/s1600-h/IMG_3291.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372952403595652338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga6CD-8qQ8gfvUBnwEiq6b2xH4QeB2uWl5QJ3xpa00kq3-dAjuQ7C-ki2WfRcpKPW2M8KTT1zPfCx4m6LpuVXC5ScmWISBO-0CiJYgW411v5s9S5JK6ZICBRX6_tHvNiX-EyJfjrj0c6k5/s320/IMG_3291.JPG" /></a><br /><strong>Friday, August 14, 2009</strong><br />Rode ferry from Wakayama to Tokushima. Sho and I danced the night away in Tokushima's famous Awa-Odori.Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-87770874099356897102009-08-13T20:10:00.002-04:002009-10-28T15:48:20.346-04:00Day 50: Koya-san to Wakayama<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMeVDf2zs_bCVTzWTO095F5lIaKdxIE_KrTCOdkQNGzhs48hfSGh8cCF0b1WyhO2yA7RiHpY1yC9C20AFW_APhRnOT5ohc1kdmA2p14wrtwGFaTSPVkzp4JyKTHNAHt-_DoSZr_-jnlke/s1600-h/IMG_3253.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372950813039529298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMeVDf2zs_bCVTzWTO095F5lIaKdxIE_KrTCOdkQNGzhs48hfSGh8cCF0b1WyhO2yA7RiHpY1yC9C20AFW_APhRnOT5ohc1kdmA2p14wrtwGFaTSPVkzp4JyKTHNAHt-_DoSZr_-jnlke/s320/IMG_3253.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIPsQ8vpAyB4V_9IRYbwbA1r9_MgCMRsudLvd30viDs1FTlrivAVvpI9DeRa2Xt3v8FkmYOoKSbdaa74BeRLNfqEc8RRq48dnWUvQ00qemxAS5EAImDoSVmUt73B7icwnQCvrD90CKxDAg/s1600-h/IMG_3248.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372950806725742386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIPsQ8vpAyB4V_9IRYbwbA1r9_MgCMRsudLvd30viDs1FTlrivAVvpI9DeRa2Xt3v8FkmYOoKSbdaa74BeRLNfqEc8RRq48dnWUvQ00qemxAS5EAImDoSVmUt73B7icwnQCvrD90CKxDAg/s320/IMG_3248.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlNR6_eEaSyiKmeCxaeZhwm8H-6rRn3Pvu0cT0V8CIYLfVyz7BrZNxVxIil7-51MHQ2bRzsHBgbgaAZ1GEs8mcn60AdNgcdxU2Ixm_CQs_F-3HZ488O7EwN6sbrogI1JlPgVu_eTJhxJw/s1600-h/IMG_3247.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372950796060057810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlNR6_eEaSyiKmeCxaeZhwm8H-6rRn3Pvu0cT0V8CIYLfVyz7BrZNxVxIil7-51MHQ2bRzsHBgbgaAZ1GEs8mcn60AdNgcdxU2Ixm_CQs_F-3HZ488O7EwN6sbrogI1JlPgVu_eTJhxJw/s320/IMG_3247.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Thursday, August 13, 2009 <div> Biked 60km (37 miles) from Koya-san to Wakayama.</div><div> Sho and I awoke at 5:55am, just as we did yesterday, a monk steadily hammering away at a gong inside the temple to let everyone know it was time to get up. Interested in another round of Buddhist chanting, we shuffled sleepily down the long temple corridors to the ceremony hall to observe the 40-minute ritual with about 15 other guests. The chanting was mesmerizing, and Sho sat snuggled in my lap, enjoying the unusual experience. Afterward, Soeda-san gave an identical talk to the one he delivered yesterday, repeating the story of Kukai’s endless meditation in a nearby cave and culminating with the insistence that this belief was “super rational.” I imagined that Soeda-san must see this daily interaction with tourists as only a mild distraction from the real work of the temple, and an excellent source of income. Perhaps it led to a few converts from time to time.<br /> After our final breakfast in the temple, I used a 1-pound mobile Internet device to upload recent pictures from our ride to an online server run by TV Japan. They were putting on a TV news update about our ride on Saturday and had requested pictures in time for the airing. Sho and I were supposed to check out of the temple by 9am, and the Internet connection in the mountains was weak. I felt pressed for time as the images ever so slowly were transferred over the ether, and as 9am neared, I had to stop before all the pictures were loaded, vowing to try again tonight.<br /> As we climbed aboard our loaded bikes and pushed off, the monks at the temple gave us a hearty farewell and good wishes to complete our cross-Japan ride. A young trainee marveled at our adventure, shaking his head as he walked with us to the edge of the temple and whispering conspiratorially, “I’d love to do something like this!” </div><div> After stocking up on snacks in town, Sho and I started the long descent from Mt. Koya toward the coast. Today’s destination was Wakayama, about 60km (39 miles) away. The mountain weather was fickle. It was sunny and hot as we began to ride, sweat beading on top of our sunblock-slathered skin, but soon after we had started the descent, a sudden downpour began. I stopped the bikes and pulled rain covers over our panniers. It was so warm that Sho and I didn’t bother with jackets, rain pants or booties, as we had so often when it started to rain in the cooler weather of Hokkaido and the Japan Alps. It was refreshing to get a good dousing in the 90+ degree temps, and we let ourselves get soaked. I kept a careful, firm grip on the brakes as we made our way down the twists and turns of the wet alpine road, keeping close to the side to let cars pass every minute or two. These mountain descents were the most dangerous part of the ride across Japan, when a slight miscalculation could lead to a scary fall over the edge. I understood the risks and let my hands go numb gripping the brakes in order to keep our speed well within my control. About every 10 minutes, I had to stop briefly to rest my forearms and shoulders, and to shake out my hands until feeling returned. The regular ordeal of managing the heavily laden bikes had taken a toll, and the tips of three fingers on my left hand had been numb for the past few weeks. [It wasn’t until 2 months after the trip was over that I recovered full feeling in those fingers.]<br /> The squall was over soon, replaced by the pounding summer sun, its intense heat combining with the steady downhill wind to dry us off quickly. Small rivulets of rain water trailed down the road’s edge, gurgling softly beside us for a few minutes before evaporating in the heat. Suddenly, I heard a strange sound coming from the rear wheel.<br /> “You got a flat!” Sho announced, and I pulled over immediately.<br /> “At least it’s not raining anymore,” I grumbled, trying to keep a positive attitude despite the annoying, unwelcome delay. There was a pull-out just ahead with plenty of space to work on the bike out of traffic. And the view was stunning, forest-covered mountains stretching out into the distance, painted over by shadows from dramatic cloud formations in the yawning sky. Sho took the delay in stride and started searching for interesting bugs in the brush while I turned my back on the vista and went to work.<br /> This was the tenth puncture of our ride, every one of which occurred on my back tire, made vulnerable by the burden of my weight and the two heaviest panniers. The front tire of my bike and the single tire on Sho’s bike made it through the entire journey without a single flat. Early on, I patched the hole in the tube each time. But after a while, I realized that the weight on my back wheel was simply too heavy for the patches to manage, requiring me to pump up the tire too frequently. I had brought along a number of spares, and half way through our ride, decided simply to replace the tube every time I got a flat. The process was still laborious, as I had to remove the 4 panniers and handlebar bag from my bicycle and disconnect Sho’s trailer cycle from the rear rack before getting to the wheel. Happily, today’s flat tire on Day 50 turned out to be the last one of the 67-day trip. <br /> The heat steadily intensified as we descended Mt. Koya. The cloudy weather we experienced on the mountain was replaced by direct sun and oppressive, humid warmth. We turned west to ride along a river toward the coast and soon spotted an inviting rest stop. We pulled in, navigated around several monstrous tour busses and came to a stop in front of the bathrooms, dripping sweat that quickly evaporated on the steaming concrete. Sho begged for ice cream from a nearby vending machine, and I sent him off with enough money to get one for me too. As I leaned our bikes against a wall, I felt a tickle on my right calf and looked down to see a large, multi-colored, long-legged spider clinging to my skin. About 2 inches in diameter, Sho and I had seen many of this type of spider throughout our ride. Their intimidating size made them excellent subjects for Sho’s photo collection, but I had no interest in finding out whether or not they are poisonous. I quickly, but gently, flicked the creature onto the sidewalk, and watched it scramble away toward the women’s rest room. When Sho returned, I pointed out my new friend.<br /> “Daddy, he’s awesome!” Sho exclaimed, and we spent the next 10 minutes studying the spider and protecting it from being stepped on by visitors, many of whom didn’t seem to share our interest in the big little fellow. Before continuing on, we made sure that the spider had made it safely up a wall, where he could peek in on the ladies.<br /> The Kii Mountain range faded behind us as we made our way to Wakayama, arriving by 4pm. I was interested in visiting the town’s historic castle, but Sho convinced me to go bowling with him instead. Yes, it was unlikely that we would ever get the chance to see Wakayama’s castle again. And yes, we could easily go bowling any time we wanted when we were back in New York. But I suppressed the urge to lecture and tried to empathize with the experience of an 8 year old. And yes, we had a blast.<br /> We would take a ferry to Tokushima the next morning, and I found a cheap single room in a business hotel near the terminal. The clerk tried to make us pay for a double room, but I explained that we usually slept in a tent, and that we considered sharing a single bed to be a luxury. He smirked, annoyed at my quirky logic, and gave us the cheaper room. <br /> Later that night, after Sho had taken a bath and written in his journal, I read to him in bed. One of the effects of biking for many hours each day is the powerful need for a good night’s rest. By 9pm, I was exhausted and started to fall asleep while reading out loud. Sho elbowed me several times, as I lost the text and slipped into groggy babbling. My body ached for sleep, but tonight I felt the pressure of commitments and had to stay awake. I got Sho to sleep by 9:30, then crawled silently out of the bed and settled behind the small desk in the narrow room. I turned on the mobile Internet device, connected to the Internet, and spent the next hour and a half uploading the rest of the pictures I had promised to TV Japan. <br /> Once that was finished, I logged on to the United Nations Environment Programme’s website. Sho and I had been asked to respond to questions for UNEP’s Climate Heroes today, and I worried that there would be a list of a hundred e-mails from around the world waiting for us to respond. But there was only one question, asking whether we were encouraging people to ride bikes even in bustling cities in developing countries, where it could be very dangerous for a cyclist. I answered that staying safe is the most important aspect of choosing where and when to ride. The question reminded me of my experience training for this adventure with Sho. We had spent the previous year riding all over New York City and the northern suburbs of Westchester County. I had been surprised to find that I felt safer on the crowded roads of Manhattan than in the suburbs. Drivers in Manhattan, while often aggressive, were accustomed to the heavy vehicle and pedestrian traffic, and their speed was checked by the many lights and traffic jams. The secret was to follow the rules (don’t bike the wrong way on a one-way street, wait for the light to turn green), be patient (go at a reasonable pace that gives you a chance to react to an unexpected situation, don’t try to do a quick maneuver without braking or checking the traffic behind you to squeeze by a turning truck), and keep an eye out for people opening doors of parked cars. But the suburbs were filled with drivers on cell phones, driving 60+ MPH on narrow roads without a shoulder. The variables in the suburbs felt much more difficult to control.<br /> As I drifted off to sleep, I thought excitedly about tomorrow’s plan. It would be the first time for us to visit Shikoku, one of Japan’s major islands that was often neglected, but offered some wonderful surprises.</div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-29037980188155733272009-08-12T08:47:00.002-04:002009-09-10T12:40:23.757-04:00Day 49: Koya-san<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1tmZUYxsiWGQ3AVju_QiK0LtV5IKkNc9cMsWL-CFejI26xcYNeDY55SKhvF2oRDswjQgM4lC4I67P7Q_BNRvkaJ-Eozb9mxn0PQNgvQbockS_3oDdxXp2smVLkqMeWS81_Z58UubmCGjx/s1600-h/IMG_3242.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372948824829108594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1tmZUYxsiWGQ3AVju_QiK0LtV5IKkNc9cMsWL-CFejI26xcYNeDY55SKhvF2oRDswjQgM4lC4I67P7Q_BNRvkaJ-Eozb9mxn0PQNgvQbockS_3oDdxXp2smVLkqMeWS81_Z58UubmCGjx/s320/IMG_3242.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ1rDWiN7kIuU0WPs4Zbj5WkailzjRmWvj834dBSiN7MqvbzDxwCYtYFuZuS94Ez4kOyO3h33zxK_SKzynH7RIvEVoYcBBCrZN__fcpAWK6Tv9x9eXQ6XIq0S2fkTFlLDjhIzQrsMTwhKa/s1600-h/IMG_3231.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372948817347205266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ1rDWiN7kIuU0WPs4Zbj5WkailzjRmWvj834dBSiN7MqvbzDxwCYtYFuZuS94Ez4kOyO3h33zxK_SKzynH7RIvEVoYcBBCrZN__fcpAWK6Tv9x9eXQ6XIq0S2fkTFlLDjhIzQrsMTwhKa/s320/IMG_3231.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSuhs-FGyIRILqYvrETVzMOxNnai9nqfvJd7ue-qqgbKE-vlLaIK__dYSMxJ6o5kugEzrFtrnwe3Fn7xUnBWUs92E6FR0cCF-4-ncgQYUOWACAT6uzbrL6_cldIait_3AkjIhEndYkmpKx/s1600-h/IMG_3221.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372948804896486722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSuhs-FGyIRILqYvrETVzMOxNnai9nqfvJd7ue-qqgbKE-vlLaIK__dYSMxJ6o5kugEzrFtrnwe3Fn7xUnBWUs92E6FR0cCF-4-ncgQYUOWACAT6uzbrL6_cldIait_3AkjIhEndYkmpKx/s320/IMG_3221.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Wednesday, August 12, 2009 <div> At 5:55 in the morning, a monk hidden somewhere within the temple began to beat a gong in a slow, steady rhythm. </div><div> Bong… Bong… Bong… </div><div>The intense, enveloping sound echoed through the quiet morning, sound waves bouncing off of the meticulously crafted sand sculptures and manicured trees of the temple garden.</div><div> Bong… Bong… Bong... </div><div>The reverberations cascaded through my body, shaking my bones and pulling me out of a deep, exhausted slumber. I rolled over on the futon to see Sho groggily smiling at me from under the thick folds of his soft comforter. </div><div> Bong… Bong… Bong… </div><div>The sonorous noise drifted out of the mountain valley and dissipated among the surrounding peaks of Mt. Koya.<br /> “Ready for some chanting?” I asked Sho. <br />“Yep!” he said with enthusiasm and pulled himself up from the futon, hopping around on one foot on the tatami mat as he pulled on his pants. <br />We shuffled quietly down the long, hard wood corridors, converging with other guests emerging groggily from their rooms to participate in the morning Buddhist ritual. We passed by an opening leading to a beautiful garden in the center of the temple, and felt the warm summer morning air envelope us and hint at the oppressive heat to come. After navigating several turns through the large complex, we left our slippers at the entrance of the ceremony room and quietly found a place to sit on the tatami mats with about 15 other guests. The room was dimly lit and adorned with Buddhist images and paraphernalia, the smell of incense wafting over us. Nine monks with shaved heads and flowing robes sat on mats in the front, legs folded easily beneath them, and each holding a book of sutras. Ryusho Soeda, head of the temple, sat in the middle and led the ceremony, his impressive robes wrapped comfortably around his frame. The chanting began immediately.<br /> Sho sat enthralled throughout the 40-minute session, as the monks intoned with a deep, hypnotizing rhythm. Every so often, one would strike a gong or a clanging symbol or bells. Sometimes one monk would start to drone out the beginning of a new section of the sutra, and the others would join him after a few seconds, their voices merging together powerfully. I closed my eyes and let the chanting envelop me. My thoughts drifted over the past month and a half of riding, and I marveled that we had made it this far without any serious sickness, injury or mental breakdown. I opened my eyes and looked at Sho, who was sitting close to me, attentively taking in the fascinating morning ritual. He was already changed since we began this trip. He had grown stronger and bigger, less apt to complain about minor inconveniences, and patient enough to sit through 40 minutes of Buddhist chanting.<br /> When the monks had finished, they filed quietly out of a side door, except Soeda-san, who turned toward the visitors in the room. His round, middle aged face was serene, and he moved slowly and with purpose, exerting a calming presence over the room. He paused as he silently took in our faces and smiled gently. Accustomed to foreign guests, he spoke in heavily accented English, describing his religious beliefs and the story of Kobo Daishi, the posthumous name for Kukai, the founder of Shingon Buddhism. Kukai chose Mt. Koya as the site of the the sect’s headquarters over 1200 hundred years ago, following a voyage to China, where he studied with a well-known Buddhist master. Followers believe that Kukai is still alive, meditating in a big stone cave underground and watching the world.<br /> “Perhaps it must seem very strange or absurd for you that the one who lived almost 1,200 years before can keep meditation inside underground walls until today,” Soeda-san smiled. “The reason why such an irrational belief could survive for so many years is that still today, many people can experience an encounter with Kukai, mainly in the crisis of their life, physically or psychologically. Kukai has been believed to send his supple body not only to the believer, but also to the unbelievers to make them aware that they are watched by Kukai. So these repeated experiences encountering Kukai over the time and space make this irrational belief [pause for effect] super rational.”<br /> As he spoke, I realized that he gave the same talk every morning to tourists staying at the temple. I wondered if he were bored by it all, or found it mildly interesting to see the attentive wonder in people’s eyes as they heard this story for the first time. Perhaps it felt simply like an extension of the chanting ceremony, but without the promise of transcendence...<br /> Soeda-san concluded his brief comments with the observation that, “the ultimate truth is never static, but dynamic.” Just as I was contemplating the implications of that thought, he abruptly shifted to the mundane, noting that our breakfasts would be ready in five minutes, and that we should reconvene in the dining hall.<br /> “What a cool way to start the day!” Sho commented excitedly, as we shuffled out of the ceremony hall. <br /> After breakfast, Sho and I hopped on our bikes, ridiculously light without our 75 pounds of gear, and explored the town of Koya. We visited the massive Daimon gate that had welcomed us the night before. It was impressive, but in daylight did not have the same mystery and power of the evening before, when its brilliantly lit, towering orange beams represented salvation from our exhausting bike ride up the mountain in the dark. We sat in the shade of the massive structure and talked with Eiko and Saya on the phone for a while, before continuing on to see Koya’s impressive mix of temples and tombs.<br /> Many followers in the Shingon sect choose to be buried at Okunoin, a sprawling collection of many thousands of graves spread throughout the dense forests surrounding Kukai’s mausoleum on the outskirts of Koya. Sho and I hiked along a beautiful, flowing mountain stream, passing countless graves. The varied headstones were everywhere, competing with one another to proclaim the previous existence of the entombed. Some were nothing more than a simple, modest stone marking the spot, while other gravesites were over-the-top. My favorite was a 20-foot tall towering stone rocket ship pointing skyward and threatening to blast off.<br /> “This guy must have really loved outer space!” Sho laughed. <br /> No one knows how many burial sites there are in Okunoin, but Sho did his best to visit every one, running back and forth along the main path ways, then challenging me to find the most creative route through myriad trails that disappeared into the surrounding overgrowth and uncovering yet more graves.<br /> Throughout this ride across Japan, we have passed many grave yards. Usually, they are modest collections of beautifully carved and meticulously cared-for headstones, nestled into a forest by the road or carved into the side of a hill. Early on, I remember pausing while biking up a long climb in the countryside and glancing down to enjoy a sprawling farm stretched out below me, rows of neatly arranged crops covering the land all the way to the base of a set of hills a few miles away. At the edge of the farm, a lone, bent figure moved slowly between two headstones that stood aside from the crops on a small raised plot. The old man gently cleaned the area, lit incense in front of the graves and stared in silence, as Sho and I peered from above. It was a touching scene.<br /> “What is he doing, Daddy?” Sho asked.<br /> “Paying respects to family members who died.”<br /> As we pedaled away, I mumbled to myself, “That’s where you’re headed,” exercising the presumably uniquely human trait of anticipating my own death. Actually, I said that to myself every time we passed a graveyard on this bike ride. Seriously. Not out of a macabre sense of despair, but more in an attempt to provide some context for this crazy adventure. Knowing that I will die, sooner or later; meditating on that truth; appreciating that every day, no matter how full of mundane routine, is precious; sensing that each moment is potentially remarkable; feeling the constant passage of time and moving through life’s phases – I used to know myself only as a child, but now I am the father? All of this provided the context for a grand adventure across Japan with my 8-year old son. Each moment is precious and finite – how do you choose to spend it? If I am only here for a while, I reasoned, I might as well try to do something extraordinary!<br /> Our visit to Koya was obviously getting to me. :-) What I needed was time to meditate. We returned to our temple lodging at Renge-Jo-In and re-entered the ceremony hall where we had observed the morning’s chanting session. Sho had enjoyed the chanting and was eager for the next new experience.<br /> “Do you think I’ll like it, Daddy?” he asked excitedly.<br /> “I’m not sure, but please do your best not to make any noise, ok?” I responded, wondering if it was a good idea for him to come along. <br /> This time, there were no gongs, no symbols, no bells. There was only silent sitting on tatami mats in the darkened room, led by the mindful, passive, settled presence of Soeda-san, wrapped in the smell of incense and shared with a dozen others listening to their own heart beats. I settled into a comfortable seated position, focused on my breathing, slowing it down until it was hard to tell whether I was inhaling or exhaling, and descended into a barely conscious state. At first, a stream of random thoughts and hidden worries intruded unhelpfully: images from yesterday’s monster ride up the mountain, the spooky bike light casting strange forms into the black night, Sho’s well-being, my priorities, a thousand years of history, graves, aching muscles, could we complete the ride across Japan on schedule, missing my wife and daughter, lingering Sumo wrestling injuries... Gradually the thoughts dissipated, evaporating into the stillness, until all that was left was my breath, still moving in and out, but barely perceptible. A kind of mental opening was occurring. A letting go. A mindfulness. A sinking into the eternity of the moment.<br /> I felt a tug at my sleeve. “Dad!” Sho whispered. I ignored him. “Dad!” he whispered again, and I could feel the collective annoyance in the room at this unwelcome intrusion into the magical silence.<br /> I opened my eyes and gave him an unhappy look.<br /> “I’m going outside to play my DS, ok?” he asked. <br /> I nodded, and he crawled across the tatami mat floor, and slowly creaked open the wooden sliding doors. Then ever so annoyingly, he creaked the doors closed again. Each sound he made reverberated like a bomb dropped into the middle of the room, and I winced at the rude intrusion on my fellow guests’ meditations. Soeda-san sat impassively at the front of the room, unbothered by the commotion, unmoving and serene. The other guests, not nearly as practiced at meditation, shot us annoyed looks. <br /> That evening, Sho and I wore comfortable cotton yukata robes down to the dining hall, a large, tatami mat room near the temple entrance that could easily hold over 100 people. About twenty guests sat on the floor beside one another, appreciating lovely lacquer trays full of miso soup, mountain vegetables, hot tea, rice, and a delicious flavored tofu dish. Only one guest was Japanese, and he was seated by himself separately from the group for some reason that was never explained to me. The rest were friendly tourists from Germany, Italy, Canada, the U.S. and France. Happily, they were too well-mannered to ostracize us for the disruption of the meditation ceremony, and we all chatted politely about our experiences traveling around Japan.<br /> After a while, Kiyomi Soeda entered the room. The 89-year old matriarch of the temple, she wore a brightly colored kimono and exuded self-confidence and vigor. She looked much younger than her age and professed to have enjoyed excellent health throughout her life. “Only recently, I have begun to have difficulty hearing, and my legs feel weak at times,” she lamented. We all munched our food in silence as she settled down comfortably in front of a microphone and told us her fascinating story.<br /> Until around 1880, women were not allowed to live in Koya, which was meant to be a Buddhist retreat far away from the temptations of society. Priests were not allowed to marry and heads of temples chose their successor from among their disciples. This changed not long after the Meiji Restoration, a tumultuous period in Japan’s history when the country, which had been rigidly closed to the outside world for over 2 centuries, was compelled to modernize by the threats and opportunities posed by the U.S. and Europe. Priests on Mt. Koya began to marry, and their succession became hereditary. <br /> Born in Koya in 1920, Kiyomi was a restless youth and left the isolated mountain top community in the late 1930’s to study English at a university in Tokyo, a much more stimulating location. When World War II began, she returned from Tokyo and her friends asked her suspiciously why she had “studied the language of the enemy.” But after the war, when knowledge of English was a useful skill, the same people praised her far-sighted wisdom. During the war, the Japanese military used the temples in Koya to support the war effort. When the U.S. military sent soldiers to look for weapons caches among the temples, Kiyomi’s rare English skills made her suddenly extremely useful in her community. <br /> She married the head of Renge-Jo-In Temple in 1946 and told us about the sorry state the place was in when she moved in. The ceiling of the beautiful room we were sitting in had a leak that they could not afford to repair, ruining the tatami mats. <br /> “Where you are now, you would be sitting in the middle of a mud pit,” she joked with Sho, who giggled. “We had to lay down wooden slats to walk across this room. There wasn’t enough food either, so we all grew sweet potatoes. Because of the lack of sun up here, they were stringy, skinny things that had little taste, but it was better than starving. When we ate rice porridge, I remember being able to count the number of grains in the bowl, it was so meager.”<br /> She went on to tell us about Kukai, going into much more detail than her son had following this morning’s chanting ceremony. She told us of Kukai’s decision to study esoteric Buddhism in China, of his prodigious intelligence and ability to find a famous teacher in China and become his chosen successor after only a year and a half of study, and other accounts of his exceptional abilities. I noted the importance within many institutions, from politics to religion to business, to ascribe phenomenal exploits to their founders. <br /> Sho wasn’t worried about the implications of hero worship, however. After we had eaten our fill and returned to our room, he was happy to snuggle up with me in our comfortable futons and fall asleep recounting the details of one of our most interesting days so far. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-7699619629886250982009-08-12T08:43:00.004-04:002009-09-02T02:12:48.832-04:00Day 48: Climbing to Koya-san<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqoYMGl-QoqZRa4igeylEUAKfEjCYw1KpQF474jGhCKTHEy2LDBs9ohRU_tyDI4WAhQx3fjjsjee3PpMsF1hIwpITwHz5oQI6H8NR5z-CnKRX8PiftalJprL8ERnGXHYKsSSgDTktsojAr/s1600-h/IMG_3207.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372946586012029394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqoYMGl-QoqZRa4igeylEUAKfEjCYw1KpQF474jGhCKTHEy2LDBs9ohRU_tyDI4WAhQx3fjjsjee3PpMsF1hIwpITwHz5oQI6H8NR5z-CnKRX8PiftalJprL8ERnGXHYKsSSgDTktsojAr/s320/IMG_3207.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDFU1IeL6BgsqSjBhEA5oMvB4Qqg2BHURh-Pkng_y-sP2rt_zyFo2GhToQlxPnrV8ArbRJvzIKXi5KE2QlhyphenhyphengbMt-X3LJejVyr9eSRxvqd5uPk7xJ1R9eEH8lalKLlhNd7JkI5-4-w1SFV/s1600-h/IMG_3201.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372946571849750802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDFU1IeL6BgsqSjBhEA5oMvB4Qqg2BHURh-Pkng_y-sP2rt_zyFo2GhToQlxPnrV8ArbRJvzIKXi5KE2QlhyphenhyphengbMt-X3LJejVyr9eSRxvqd5uPk7xJ1R9eEH8lalKLlhNd7JkI5-4-w1SFV/s320/IMG_3201.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_ZJJb9iJilA2wEnSzLWXzi0YHIvMz5jhwVYyczaXHuiKtXmKBsrZu3W8d_ncIeCuxvXtWnFhA5lt_osfzx8QVDZbu1hyrY-zm4CXLbWV9cmd8p6swUnPoAee2LKE5DiLtM17yN0IJ_fT/s1600-h/IMG_3204.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372946561023793986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_ZJJb9iJilA2wEnSzLWXzi0YHIvMz5jhwVYyczaXHuiKtXmKBsrZu3W8d_ncIeCuxvXtWnFhA5lt_osfzx8QVDZbu1hyrY-zm4CXLbWV9cmd8p6swUnPoAee2LKE5DiLtM17yN0IJ_fT/s320/IMG_3204.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Tuesday, August 11, 2009</span> <div> Biked 90km (55 miles) from Nara to Asuka Mura Village, then up the mountain to the Buddhist town of Koya-san. Biked for 7 hours total, including 3 hours up the mountain, the last of which was in the dark. Spooky!</div><div> </div><div> We said goodbye to Nara in the mid-morning, retracing our steps from yesterday's ride to Horyu-Ji, then continuing on to Asuka Mura. A candidate to become a World Heritage Site, the quaint village of just over 6,000 residents boasts a pleasant Buddhist temple and some unusual ancient granite stones. No one knows the origin of the mysterious, colossal rock structures, which may have been ancient burial sites, or places for communal worship, or the result of a group of early Japanese stone cutters with plenty of time on their hands... We visited Ishibutai Kofun, where Sho used the massive stones as a launching pad for some impressive leaps. </div><div> Rice fields stretched around us. Mountains loomed in the distance. And one of those, Mt. Koya, waited for us. Today's destination was a collection of over 100 Buddhist temples in the heart of Mt. Koya's 8 peaks. The base for the Shingon Buddhist sect, the town of Koya was founded almost 1200 years ago by the monk Kukai, after he returned from a spiritual journey to China. Many temples offer lodging for visitors, and Sho and I had a reservation at one. We looked forward to the unique experience of participating in a few chants and meditation sessions. </div><div> But we had to get there first. I knew we had pushed our luck by staying in Asuka Mura until mid-afternoon, and I pushed the pace as we got underway. Unfortunately, the route was hilly from the start, and the muggy 90 degree weather sapped our strength, so we plodded along at a modest pace, despite our best efforts.</div><div> I had actually been looking forward to another challening ride up a mountain. I was confident that we could make the long, steep climb up Mt. Koya without too much difficulty, after our successful week of riding over the Japan Alps. The main question today was, Can we make it before night fall? We rode hard over the rolling terrain for 2 hours from Asuka Mura before reaching the base of Mt. Koya at 5pm, where I nearly made a significant mistake. We came to an intersection with a sign that pointed us in a different direction from the route my GPS said we should take. Assuming that there must be two alternative routes, I ignored the sign and followed my GPS's instructions. After a few minutes of riding, I realized that I'd just forgotten an important lesson from this trip: when in doubt, ask a local. So I did just that. </div><div> The old man raised his eyebrows and murmured, "Wow, look at that!", ogling our connected bikes as we pulled to a stop in front of his house. </div><div> "Is the temple town of Koya this way?", I asked, as he took a closer look at Sho's bicycle.</div><div> "Nope. You're headed to the highest of Mt. Koya's summits. There's nothing up there but forest. The road is narrow, steep and has a lot of debris from rock slides on it. The temple town you want is back the other direction."</div><div> I had entered "Koya-san" in Japanese into my GPS, which is the name of both the Buddhist temple town and the mountain, and the GPS had chosen to send us to the mountain top! Relieved at having caught the potentially awful mistake, we turned back with a grateful thank you to the man who had just saved us from an unplanned overnight stay on an exposed mountain top. He gave Sho a hearty "Gambatte!" ("good luck") as we pulled away. </div><div> The first hour of climbing through the forest covering Mt. Koya's lower reaches was beautiful, but a bit disappointing. Full of modest ascents followed by easy flat and down hill sections, I murmured to myself, "This will be a piece of cake," happily ticking away the miles at a solid clip. But at 6pm, with just over an hour of light left, the mountain got serious. No more easy slopes and refreshing downhills. The real climbing had begun with regular doses of long, winding 10% grades mixed in with the "easy" sections at 6 - 8%. Instead of zipping along at a healthy clip, we were now trudging up at a crawl, sweat dripping down to sizzle on the hot pavement. We pushed down hard on the pedals, struggling to maintain forward momentum up the steep, unforgiving, narrow road. My body protested at having to work so hard at the end of a day of riding. Sho complained that he was ready to stop for the day. And most annoying of all, cars constantly passed us from both directions, headed to and from the popular tourist destination. Unlike the deserted climbs through the Japan Alps, where we could swing out and back on the empty road to generate momentum, the traffic forced me to maintain a straight line squeezed to the far side of the road, allowing little room for error next to the sheer drop off a few feet to our left. </div><div> Another hour of hard pushing up, up, up, and we were still climbing. The sun's rays faded away behind the mountain's forest canopy, and we were still climbing. We turned on lights at the back and front of our bikes to make sure the cars could see us. The traffic was dwindling, and we experienced long stretches of riding through the oppressive darkness, intensified by the overhanging tree cover. My front light cast out a constant stream of strange, spooky shadows as I jerked the bike back and forth with each heavy pedal stroke up the incline. Eery sounds emanated from the darkness and echoed across the black expanse just beyond the road's edge.</div><div> "Dad, this is really spooky. I don't like it," Sho complained. </div><div> "I don't like it either, buddy. We'll get there soon," was all I could offer in response. I began to talk to the mountain and to myself, annoyed at my hubris in thinking we could make it to Koya before dark. And we pushed on. Despite his complaints, Sho didn't give up. And despite my annoyance at my overconfidence, I knew that we had a safe place to stay waiting for us at the top. We pushed on.</div><div> And finally, after another of a seemingly endless series of steep switchbacks, we rounded a corner and came upon a huge, brightly lit red Buddhist gate. Called <em>Daimon</em> ("big gate"), it glowed against the dark forest background and offered a hearty welcome to tired wanderers. We had made it to Koya! An hour after dark and completely spent, but we had made it. </div><div> We found our way through the compact mountain town to Renge-Jo-in, the temple where we had a reservation. Thankfully, they had saved dinner for us: a collection of delicious flavored tofu, miso soup, mountain vegetables, rice and hot tea. Famished from the exhausting ride, we wolfed down everything while still in our sweat-soaked biking clothes. Lounging in the temple's hot onsen bath afterward, our bellies full and memories of the spooky alpine ride already fading, we smiled at one another. </div><div> Sho laughed, splashed me with water and said, "Another day, another adventure, huh?!" </div><div> </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-24710564532142507102009-08-10T10:37:00.009-04:002009-09-02T00:47:17.635-04:00Day 47: Nara and Horyu-Ji<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBjTYWuvpjiRIt3TlFG6olF9IOXfQO0pLaNsDuwGNmDW7GI7vpKUPnC_U-xYVm8mZBGBwgHtBqVaLU3fo1n1ZhmyJq1IpqaV7v8J6hpZOzPlJ6aWnKVuurbA0fVQi8xQeZbsaiVrjpGbw0/s1600-h/IMG_3173.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374982661868620274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBjTYWuvpjiRIt3TlFG6olF9IOXfQO0pLaNsDuwGNmDW7GI7vpKUPnC_U-xYVm8mZBGBwgHtBqVaLU3fo1n1ZhmyJq1IpqaV7v8J6hpZOzPlJ6aWnKVuurbA0fVQi8xQeZbsaiVrjpGbw0/s320/IMG_3173.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithAQZJ4FiCE61nEP31aNOQoxSBkcIEDzvucpOgVDSl9Gt2ss-Kyxyl-eMK6XObjcXtW9d75w9PTJpxZnq23ntcREuDE3lvvbOrGmeuNDGM-iWffnIZmKj5Z1f7iDNQlrBm8YA4S3Klhir/s1600-h/IMG_3198.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374982176542604018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEithAQZJ4FiCE61nEP31aNOQoxSBkcIEDzvucpOgVDSl9Gt2ss-Kyxyl-eMK6XObjcXtW9d75w9PTJpxZnq23ntcREuDE3lvvbOrGmeuNDGM-iWffnIZmKj5Z1f7iDNQlrBm8YA4S3Klhir/s320/IMG_3198.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiutcScxmveKwsNZJJfDxIPkLX-ZxDiyhom3TXDhVuLypyqbe6tYn-WYhZxCq02nrp633JgOVyYxJxHC984URcflcdV8GmL7npbB2wUZ9p3i-lGxaxRbCv5VqzzFdqo-vMU1aNFNtnsfs3_/s1600-h/IMG_3187.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374982167357395474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiutcScxmveKwsNZJJfDxIPkLX-ZxDiyhom3TXDhVuLypyqbe6tYn-WYhZxCq02nrp633JgOVyYxJxHC984URcflcdV8GmL7npbB2wUZ9p3i-lGxaxRbCv5VqzzFdqo-vMU1aNFNtnsfs3_/s320/IMG_3187.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZ8dYJhunm1lXMWJTOeX2Gf_szUgM_AUEEi5DU1FJJMxQBAqZXLh9vBs7DyZhRLQaL0fTbpp5TBRDTO_dPtfHIt-MEKwsfLRQpAipFOiRgLu51H7DQZbzRkJjdm372xPcW_eOeSmPNb5G/s1600-h/IMG_3186.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374982160150309730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZ8dYJhunm1lXMWJTOeX2Gf_szUgM_AUEEi5DU1FJJMxQBAqZXLh9vBs7DyZhRLQaL0fTbpp5TBRDTO_dPtfHIt-MEKwsfLRQpAipFOiRgLu51H7DQZbzRkJjdm372xPcW_eOeSmPNb5G/s320/IMG_3186.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0iTMSfU_rUjkNWY6l8oI47eplRx3avjUfQxFdrNtSwZn9amVGeBlpUiXOs2VKa8vEeHMBmCs161BtYV01J-MFrgKxZhR7OrErMptJIC2iH_XmvhDmSnARvmij26RplNJ6pXbX2FlMDSUa/s1600-h/IMG_3164.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372944883287927602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0iTMSfU_rUjkNWY6l8oI47eplRx3avjUfQxFdrNtSwZn9amVGeBlpUiXOs2VKa8vEeHMBmCs161BtYV01J-MFrgKxZhR7OrErMptJIC2iH_XmvhDmSnARvmij26RplNJ6pXbX2FlMDSUa/s320/IMG_3164.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IOnOrZBpL2hafe4yLGgJQE-ESKH9209-49e_yL1t2EtuoY29AHWssYqh_9dey5ZgDM-hHzgR_-4KHZvrWBWX-545HEx9qnrubv4d_xW__VJWlzLjs-kjfIj6ra59rO3jTHBWgFjRoiym/s1600-h/IMG_3156.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372944875220962162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IOnOrZBpL2hafe4yLGgJQE-ESKH9209-49e_yL1t2EtuoY29AHWssYqh_9dey5ZgDM-hHzgR_-4KHZvrWBWX-545HEx9qnrubv4d_xW__VJWlzLjs-kjfIj6ra59rO3jTHBWgFjRoiym/s320/IMG_3156.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9rZ0Jst91kjsh23H8tMI7Rl2PI4D2XfdIxaXl2FTp3C2zCARztP1Vgc_EreFLHq9DA8Xdhlf3rd5No0Kzz87-3GRA5AJAFKMeSkckQf8bg-ONeEyDldNHSekktZOHFIbLQgYPHUCwHts/s1600-h/IMG_3149.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372944860842236146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9rZ0Jst91kjsh23H8tMI7Rl2PI4D2XfdIxaXl2FTp3C2zCARztP1Vgc_EreFLHq9DA8Xdhlf3rd5No0Kzz87-3GRA5AJAFKMeSkckQf8bg-ONeEyDldNHSekktZOHFIbLQgYPHUCwHts/s320/IMG_3149.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>Monday, August 10, 2009</strong><br />Rode 30km (18 miles) from Nara to Horyu-Ji and back. Spent a second night in Nara in order to wait out a typhoon that was passing through.<br /><br /><div> The rain fell steadily outside, as Sho and I debated what to do today. A typhoon was barreling along the eastern coast of Japan, and we decided to stay a second night in Nara, rather than bike towards it on our planned route. We wanted to visit the World Heritage Site Horyu-Ji, an ancient temple complex and the oldest wooden structure in Japan. It would require riding about 30km (18 miles) in the driving rain, but we decided to go for it.</div><div> "We've been wet plenty of times on this trip. Might as well get wet one more time," Sho reasoned, as we rolled out into the mess.</div><div> We found our way to Horyu-Ji, where Sho played "see how far I can jump" from the top of the temple's broad entry steps. He also played "see how wet I can make my hair from this stream of water pouring off the temple roof," and I appreciated the fact that we could enjoy most of the sights from the outside. We were so thoroughly soaked that I would have been embarrassed to track wet footprints inside.</div><div> After we had our fill of temple touring, we dried off enough to have lunch in a nearby udon noodle restaurant. Sho folded the thin, rectangular paper chopsticks holder into a triangle, and we played "football" on our table until the food arrived. This is one of Sho's favorite ways to pass time in a restaurant, and he has become skilled at flicking the paper ball just to the edge of the table without falling off, and thus scoring a touchdown. His field goal kicking has also gotten quite good, but can be a problem when the ball flies into the lap of people sitting at an adjoining table...</div><div> On our ride back to Nara, I accidentally entered a bypass that transformed our annoying, but acceptably busy road into an alarming and unacceptably dangerous highway. I realized my mistake about 100 yards in, and we carefully waited for a break in the traffic zooming by, turned our bikes around and walked against traffic as close to the guard rail as we could.</div><div> "Whoops," I said, once we were safely off the bypass.</div><div> "That was not good, Daddy," Sho keenly observed.</div><div> We returned to Todai-Ji Temple in Nara to re-visit the deer Sho had courted the day before. The greedy, assertive beasts were pleased to see their generous friend return and chased Sho all over the temple grounds, gobbling up the pellets he dropped over his shoulder while running and giggling. </div><div> The towering Buddha inside Todai-Ji Temple is a wonder to behold, a gargantuan statue that is barely contained by the cavernous temple. 15 meters (45 feet) tall, it is Japan's largest bronze statue. The main hall holding it was built in the year 745 and, according to my guide book, is still the world's largest wooden building. Throngs of visitors surrounded me as I stared up at the Buddha's meditating form looming over us all. Its serene visage was mesmerizing, and I contemplated the passage of time, the absurd oddity of our existence, life's meaning and nothingness for about a minute before Sho pulled me over to "check out this awesome thing I found." One of the temple's attractions is a broad column with a relatively small square hole running through it. Those who can crawl through the tight space are said to enjoy good luck. Sho stood in line behind other kids and skinny adults, then made it through easily. </div><div> "Now I'm all set!" he rejoiced after passing this impressive Buddhist test.</div><div> The rain had tapered off by the time we rode back to our hotel, where we changed out of our damp clothes. As we did, I decided that I'd had enough of my beard and mustache. I hadn't shaved since we started riding on June 25 and had grown a full, if not particularly impressive, set of hair on my face. Early on, it had represented a kind of letting go from my professional identity, a celebration of the freedom to explore the world as an adventurer. But over time, I grew tired of the intrusive mess of hair, finding it less and less comfortable as the weather warmed. Today, I'd finally had enough. </div><div> I used a small pair of scissors from my medical kit to whittle down the tangled fuzz. After 30 minutes of work, it was short enough for me to apply shaving cream and start to work with a disposable razor I'd bought at a convenience store. I got a fair number of annoying cuts in the process, but it felt good to get rid of the rat's nest.</div><div> Sho had grown used to seeing me with a beard and mustache and gave a surprised shout when I emerged from the bathroom. After contemplating my new clean-shaven look, he concluded, "You look stupid and cool. 50% stupid. 50% cool."</div><div> We balanced out today's cultural experiences with visits to 2 game rooms after dinner. Sho observed that playing in the game rooms was "almost as fun as being chased by deer." </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-12705438957851210592009-08-10T10:34:00.007-04:002009-08-25T18:06:17.204-04:00Day 46: Seeing Family in Nara<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG0Zw-A9mq7-lyNw2z3wbRfhgaETxd_tAjPxM7h-Fod8rD6zW5O2hGOiA6se1WLHphAvqDd6S089Vi4Z9eJ-E_JNdtrlmNjgZkGystk_MCxGVPN5GONQhO2NO-p-dN1NxYB7h95CMC0UHE/s1600-h/IMG_3004.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG0Zw-A9mq7-lyNw2z3wbRfhgaETxd_tAjPxM7h-Fod8rD6zW5O2hGOiA6se1WLHphAvqDd6S089Vi4Z9eJ-E_JNdtrlmNjgZkGystk_MCxGVPN5GONQhO2NO-p-dN1NxYB7h95CMC0UHE/s320/IMG_3004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374025527403447202" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioinPwy-gRgqATC1ZFXvRx90cS6qiYappRfWtYeoWSgORWr1pEezlninz3BWZ_EH8wGqS5nKGnMdx0yOE7QegOBKr3e_S8lENGBwcnRLzcR2-RMoOUh0KOIu-PvAxQawYj6qtjpZPlJWE9/s1600-h/IMG_3142.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioinPwy-gRgqATC1ZFXvRx90cS6qiYappRfWtYeoWSgORWr1pEezlninz3BWZ_EH8wGqS5nKGnMdx0yOE7QegOBKr3e_S8lENGBwcnRLzcR2-RMoOUh0KOIu-PvAxQawYj6qtjpZPlJWE9/s320/IMG_3142.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372943642414248658" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDQBdWvFvNlq49hb1qAda5U7uY6Za6qUnnI4j_aFfoGJmbQfjjJ9U7R7ZCcIaB7mBhgcfFqDrB5FBPYnWevosWPVzOpstYyZxlIyrsi7kabI5tsZ_hSNIcVblnW50Ogvi-XqEC6_QP4m_3/s1600-h/IMG_3129.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDQBdWvFvNlq49hb1qAda5U7uY6Za6qUnnI4j_aFfoGJmbQfjjJ9U7R7ZCcIaB7mBhgcfFqDrB5FBPYnWevosWPVzOpstYyZxlIyrsi7kabI5tsZ_hSNIcVblnW50Ogvi-XqEC6_QP4m_3/s320/IMG_3129.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372943633527181378" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVS1U61m9GYxs86BaWhPk_5qRN09dSSXsHvGtGn3vA_ONUGFwqQ8fwn94BuyQbsbKvVpaTbPUFl1xyxh98yI4OobLBTLb8jV_v_RLsjNC0oFYO7HMWJalM6C-riyMnXAYpgKIJFFDIMQp2/s1600-h/IMG_3119.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVS1U61m9GYxs86BaWhPk_5qRN09dSSXsHvGtGn3vA_ONUGFwqQ8fwn94BuyQbsbKvVpaTbPUFl1xyxh98yI4OobLBTLb8jV_v_RLsjNC0oFYO7HMWJalM6C-riyMnXAYpgKIJFFDIMQp2/s320/IMG_3119.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372943621829313778" /></a><br /><strong>Sunday, August 9, 2009</strong><br /><div> Today's ride was an easy 45km (28 mile) ride from Kyoto to Nara, so we had some extra time in the morning to visit a few more of Kyoto's impressive sights before leaving. Sho chose to play pool. An impressive choice.</div><div> We also stopped by a Takashimaya department store to buy him a new pair of shoes. His old pair was embarrassingly beat up, worn down by a relentlessly active lifestyle and sporting a few holes that let in the rain. While leaving the store, my brother-in-law, Aki Ikegaya, called. He lives in Tokyo, but he and his wife, Akemi, were spending the weekend on the Ise Peninsula, a few hours' drive away. He offered to meet us in Nara later in the afternoon for a brief visit before they had to return in the evening.</div><div> We left Kyoto immediately and made our way along a busy road to Nara, arriving at 3:30pm. There were less trafficked options, but I chose to take the quickest route in order to have as much time with Aki and Akemi as possible. As we rolled into the JR Nara train station, the two of them jumped out of their car and gave us a hearty welcome and enthusiastic cheer. It felt so nice to see family. After checking into a nearby hotel and locking up our bikes, Sho and I hopped into their car and headed to the deer-infested park at Todai-ji Temple. The deer are revered in the temple and wander around freely, mingling with the tourists. Visitors can buy packets of pellets to feed them, but you have to be ready once you do. The minute you buy a packet of food, the deer converge on you, aggressively shoving and nipping. I was bitten on my waist, leaving a nice bruise, but Sho was too fast for the obnoxious creatures. He looked like the Pied Piper, running up the long path toward the temple trailed by a line of hungry deer eating the pellets he threw over his shoulder as he ran. </div><div> We didn't have enough time to visit the inside of Todai-ji Temple, so Sho and I vowed to return the next day on our own. Aki and Akemi drove us back to our hotel, where Sho and I gave them a reluctant farewell. I felt lonely watching them drive off and looked forward to our arrival in Tokyo at the beginning of September, when we would see them again and be reunited with Eiko and Saya. </div><div> Sho and I ate udon noodles for dinner, then relaxed in our hotel's onsen bath before falling asleep by 9:30pm. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-4183635946478473252009-08-10T10:32:00.004-04:002009-08-25T09:57:08.379-04:00Day 45: Kyoto<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjARAYZszerHNDMhyphenhyphenDCcY3egGigcO4tWTihhT0IyMFd0xVj4djs1o96hN5rJ8efYJAqMAJaJrH3o17T2fSYoAHm0rPvBsqzRWGeh6VSHLzEOnj1Hqu2c37tUM3eKz-5Aa-FzJGMjzWzmVJv/s1600-h/IMG_3102.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjARAYZszerHNDMhyphenhyphenDCcY3egGigcO4tWTihhT0IyMFd0xVj4djs1o96hN5rJ8efYJAqMAJaJrH3o17T2fSYoAHm0rPvBsqzRWGeh6VSHLzEOnj1Hqu2c37tUM3eKz-5Aa-FzJGMjzWzmVJv/s320/IMG_3102.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373899915212960226" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiplVUaquQcv7MgPA_Z_YDh2WFB-8kumUUTo-3VY-nOhyphenhyphenPwWh_JDwP7_ghmKr116_crbJOx9HrJAPRY2TPthKQYQG2FclcI49zCAuIvgl0WUnt5ILvTlfj3iS9Oi2IvaC2izZ47QMP5XfwW/s1600-h/IMG_3105.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiplVUaquQcv7MgPA_Z_YDh2WFB-8kumUUTo-3VY-nOhyphenhyphenPwWh_JDwP7_ghmKr116_crbJOx9HrJAPRY2TPthKQYQG2FclcI49zCAuIvgl0WUnt5ILvTlfj3iS9Oi2IvaC2izZ47QMP5XfwW/s320/IMG_3105.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372942053108520018" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvbWw4MN0DMbO81G4Xh2_Su8GhA926zh6pxyzOzf2gPc_yDQ6I-TYxiDW3oPUtVMCsSO8Sg53kVNKL69Ra8hu7cI5mIANTXDClxqtcscEqsE-NuCWibJExqTh4PiRbt4PuvNADk4NcvC4k/s1600-h/IMG_3097.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvbWw4MN0DMbO81G4Xh2_Su8GhA926zh6pxyzOzf2gPc_yDQ6I-TYxiDW3oPUtVMCsSO8Sg53kVNKL69Ra8hu7cI5mIANTXDClxqtcscEqsE-NuCWibJExqTh4PiRbt4PuvNADk4NcvC4k/s320/IMG_3097.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372942039029916802" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ddu4IvR83HxC9T9B2UIcZ5TKdYCiCCffHzwOC9CFkhA5aC1fLD343bceBhF_IMXERFCy4DwGnGoiNFIA0uC4sPnCuLRzts_2P6ZgJbnStQFstmk3_V1IhK8l1Dno70O44M4zvdElbjHT/s1600-h/IMG_3089.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ddu4IvR83HxC9T9B2UIcZ5TKdYCiCCffHzwOC9CFkhA5aC1fLD343bceBhF_IMXERFCy4DwGnGoiNFIA0uC4sPnCuLRzts_2P6ZgJbnStQFstmk3_V1IhK8l1Dno70O44M4zvdElbjHT/s320/IMG_3089.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372942025254364226" /></a><br /><strong>Saturday, August 8, 2009</strong><br /> Kyoto. Imperial capital of Japan for over 1,000 years. A World Heritage Site endowed with sculpted gardens, awe-inspiring temples, shrines, palaces, theaters. A city of mysterious, ancient traditions. The menu for a visitor overflows with options:<div> - explore the famous Kiyomizu Dera temple complex with its beautiful wooden terrace and commanding views</div><div> - stand in awe before Sanjusangendo's impressive collection of 1,001 golden Buddhist statues, each one different from the others</div><div> - Ogle Heian Jingu shrine's bright orange hallways, massive structures and and sprawling courtyard</div><div> - Take a contemplative stroll along the peaceful, wooded Philosopher's Path</div><div> - Seek inner peace at Ginkakuji, Temple of the Silver Pavilion, with its sublime hiking trails and stunning sand sculptures</div><div> The list goes on and on. So much to choose from...</div><div> And we spent the morning bowling. </div><div> Seriously.</div><div> I was impressed by Sho's ability to convince me to prioritize a visit to a game center over Kyoto's more inspiring spots. But I just couldn't say no to his puppy dog eyes, as he asked so fervently for "just a little fun on a rest day." I decided that he deserved to get his way this time after a month and a half of intense riding. Plus, it was good to see that his bowling skills were improving.</div><div> After the game room and lunch, we hopped on our bikes, ridiculously light without our luggage, and explored Kyoto the best way: by bicycle. We hit all of the places mentioned above, enjoying the impressive sights, despite the oppressive heat. On the way to Kiyomizu Dera, we stopped to ask directions. The helpful stranger pointed the way, adding, "It's a steep climb to the temple. Might be a bit much to try on a bicycle."</div><div> Sho and I smiled at one another. "If we can bike over the Japan Alps, I'm sure we can manage this hill," Sho commented to me as we pushed off. As we biked up the steep climb along a shopping street full of visitors pouring out of the temple, we finally had to walk our bikes, because of the crowds. Sho ate a cucumber on a stick to cool off as we navigated our way through the throng.</div><div> After a satisfying afternoon of culture and history, we ate okonomiyaki for dinner, Sho's first time to try the Japanese seafood pancake. Returning to our hotel, I read to him and sang a few songs before he drifted off to sleep, visions of bowling pins dancing in his head. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-71875277667600044782009-08-07T10:01:00.006-04:002009-08-23T19:32:15.239-04:00Day 44: Kyoto Fireworks Fiasco<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-RnQV1qah_-g4YcOXG-TXTUxXBq5u3rxjGOl01nveduUyMqSmudkLmdQCZc60vFxYK3VxIhn3TCPLQ9hhJBgbcU6ZI1FwWrhpHxcoSd0cr9wStSNpvJlnlF1PZ0IODzRQtJa0LIoAaDD/s1600-h/IMG_3086.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid-RnQV1qah_-g4YcOXG-TXTUxXBq5u3rxjGOl01nveduUyMqSmudkLmdQCZc60vFxYK3VxIhn3TCPLQ9hhJBgbcU6ZI1FwWrhpHxcoSd0cr9wStSNpvJlnlF1PZ0IODzRQtJa0LIoAaDD/s320/IMG_3086.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372939020518383874" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvUenny6-Er2q8GWEM-HnPV8slotNv7Ber3XMTxx_d2mnGK0yZlmfTvSCK0kzlGXa9m3JhEg5lawrGY1C7Dqz5-xGpzzouyKNA5XN0V1od-aWnuBNBMw6nMylymkWu-RySV-PPia_OAzDe/s1600-h/IMG_3087.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvUenny6-Er2q8GWEM-HnPV8slotNv7Ber3XMTxx_d2mnGK0yZlmfTvSCK0kzlGXa9m3JhEg5lawrGY1C7Dqz5-xGpzzouyKNA5XN0V1od-aWnuBNBMw6nMylymkWu-RySV-PPia_OAzDe/s320/IMG_3087.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372939011151741986" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0sW9WjBQy1NJ74h7wUZfXn4lnA66VpGwQzFRAEuHGI-c4PdLf-_xORPUbZW5FkxiruaSfTmeqy9MiXG0eZqcbAfOgbx1-Urv6R8BeqChlpzXfGNmRoL4SqiIi4ZRFaHIXAsfPbi6SgUcl/s1600-h/IMG_3083.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0sW9WjBQy1NJ74h7wUZfXn4lnA66VpGwQzFRAEuHGI-c4PdLf-_xORPUbZW5FkxiruaSfTmeqy9MiXG0eZqcbAfOgbx1-Urv6R8BeqChlpzXfGNmRoL4SqiIi4ZRFaHIXAsfPbi6SgUcl/s320/IMG_3083.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372938997971901826" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Friday, August 7, 2009</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>Rode 90km (55 miles) from Hikone to Kyoto. </div><div><br /></div><div><div> It was muggy and in the low 90's as Sho and I started the day with a visit to Hikone Castle. Ignoring the uncomfortable heat, we spent an hour and a half exploring the castle grounds and debating the various ways an attacking army might succeed in taking over the castle. We both agreed that it would not be easy.</div><div> As we biked for around 6 hours from Hikone to Japan's ancient capital of Kyoto, we had to stop frequently to drink in order to keep from becoming dehydrated in the oppressive heat. We hugged the coastline of Lake Biwako, enjoying beautiful views of the massive lake, which sometimes tricked us into thinking it was the ocean. A constant stream of traffic passed by, keeping us hemmed in on the narrow road. It was a relief when we reached the impressive Biwako Ohashi Bridge, which offered a wonderful view and a pedestrian way to keep us safe from the vehicles zooming by. </div><div> We made our way to Hama Ohtsu, a town on the southwest corner of Lake Biwako, then turned west for the long climb over the hills surrounding Kyoto. We noticed many men and woman strolling around in festive kimono's, deducing that there must be a summer festival going on in the town. As we rode out of Hama Ohtsu, we passed a line of cars caught in an incredible traffic jam coming towards us that didn't stop until we reached Kyoto an hour later. We asked a passerby what was going on, and he explained that there was a major fireworks display starting at 7:30pm. Sho and I thought that would be a great way to end the day and determined to return by train to enjoy the festivities.</div><div> I had anticipated a hard push to bike over the hills surrounding Kyoto, but after all of our mountain climbing in the Japan Alps the previous week, we hardly noticed the effort! After checking into our hotel, we quickly showered and rushed out to catch a train going back the way we'd come. On the 30-minute ride to Hama Ohtsu, we excitedly anticipated the awesome fireworks display we were going to witness. As we neared our destination, loud booms reverberated outside, and we joined others on the train straining to catch glimpses of the fireworks display through the windows. When we arrived, we encountered a large number of police officers trying to control the impressive crowd of people. It was difficult simply to leave the train station, as each exit we tried was blocked off, creating crowded pools of people milling around in confusion. Flashes of light and explosions nearby teased us with the knowledge that we were missing all the action. After 15 minutes of fruitless attempts simply to get down from the train station to the street, a friendly officer let us jump over a barricade, and we made our way to a nearby intersection full of onlookers. Our view was obstructed by buildings, so we could only see the explosions high in the air. Sho asked if we could go to the lakeside about a half mile away for a better view, but I had a bad feeling about this situation, and decided to stay put. </div><div> The show ended 10 minutes later, and immediately masses of people started to converge on the station, and nervous police officers started yelling directions. Sho and I realized how insanely crowded it was about to become and raced up the staircase into the train station. Many others ran alongside us, like people fleeing a natural disaster. As we rushed along a crowded corridor leading to the turnstiles, we rounded a corner to find a line of police officers pulling up a barricade. We were told to stop. A mass of people closed in on us from behind, and we were soon trapped in a sea of thousands of nervous revelers. The summer night's heat and humidity were oppressive and made worse by the press of people. Sho and I nursed a bottle of water we that that was 1/3 full, wondering how long we would have to wait.</div><div> Ever increasing numbers of people were trapped behind us and another barricaded entrance to our left. Each group eyed the other, wondering which one the police would let through first. The authorities held us there for about 20 minutes until a huge block of people amassed at the turnstiles had shuffled onto the waiting trains below, then gave our group the go-ahead. Sho and I pushed forward and were caught again in a crushing standstill at the turnstiles. It took another 20 minutes to squeeze our way down to the train platform. Sho held on tightly to my hand and finished off our water. When our train arrived, we were crammed in along with the rest of humanity, riding practically cheek-to-cheek with strangers until we reached the outskirts of Kyoto.</div><div> By the time we returned to our hotel, we had been gone for 2 hours and had only seen 10 minutes of fireworks!</div><div> "Now you know what the word 'fiasco' means," I joked to Sho, as we got out of our sweat-soaked clothes and cleaned off. We snuggled in bed, happy to be safely far removed from the insane crowds of the Hama Ohtsu Fireworks Festival. </div></div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868006782757209823.post-32521626557333153402009-08-07T09:57:00.004-04:002009-08-23T09:09:09.739-04:00Day 43: Seki to Hikone<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3arn0-tM8GvN30gvKJuoKaD0icFo3_yiKguYgc5IqiyUgSl-4JSe7r6vlzfCqrh5Mr3Kma6d-2TsT1USQ-bUni8b9zRfJM20qqniIVCzTrl38nFlhi3RYroaTK0_3RwolfBUJ3uAOkXxx/s1600-h/IMG_3081.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3arn0-tM8GvN30gvKJuoKaD0icFo3_yiKguYgc5IqiyUgSl-4JSe7r6vlzfCqrh5Mr3Kma6d-2TsT1USQ-bUni8b9zRfJM20qqniIVCzTrl38nFlhi3RYroaTK0_3RwolfBUJ3uAOkXxx/s320/IMG_3081.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372936906599009378" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQUL1v-TfW0FXXkY6i4InwGGXa3wvaol_bkGdO3PqiLt2zD4dI2S912cgs2fPO04Vi1ZKZIwOG0koSTOvhpAVY6j37JDHDmVUx_8d_hN35lPav5DeFTlfw2QrIYqf4jEmWwBSU7wG8YKc/s1600-h/IMG_3075.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQUL1v-TfW0FXXkY6i4InwGGXa3wvaol_bkGdO3PqiLt2zD4dI2S912cgs2fPO04Vi1ZKZIwOG0koSTOvhpAVY6j37JDHDmVUx_8d_hN35lPav5DeFTlfw2QrIYqf4jEmWwBSU7wG8YKc/s320/IMG_3075.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372936875758708514" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpqzxZmnkAb2Ya-6ZPRV2fUIjOjKdLTOMyoL1B86S6f7dtK4NWS7APSjcPe4Cthcj3zSdms40-ZaJpk0rMIUzJ3smUu98FG9K0cjJKMT1lZCm6fa-QnTSJAF-M_G5fYZHuSvcNwkFwgRks/s1600-h/IMG_3071.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpqzxZmnkAb2Ya-6ZPRV2fUIjOjKdLTOMyoL1B86S6f7dtK4NWS7APSjcPe4Cthcj3zSdms40-ZaJpk0rMIUzJ3smUu98FG9K0cjJKMT1lZCm6fa-QnTSJAF-M_G5fYZHuSvcNwkFwgRks/s320/IMG_3071.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372936851274553666" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Thursday, August 6, 2009</span><div> Rode 90km (55 miles) from Seki City to Hikone. </div><div><br /></div><div> We enjoyed a sumptuous breakfast prepared by Mrs. Kameyama, then loaded our bikes for a 90km (56 miles) ride to Hikone. A reporter from another newspaper in Gifu stopped by to interview us and take pictures with our bikes and the Kameyama family. At 10:30, we finished the interview, said goodbye to our gracious hosts, and rode to a nearby game room for an hour of electronic fun for Sho.</div><div> At noon we left Seki City, where the Shimano gears on my Trek 520 bike are made, and made our way through a drenching downpour that later turned to clouds. Since it was in the high 80's, we didn't bother with any rain gear, assuming correctly that the rain would stop, and the wind would dry us off as we biked. We rode through ever-increasing urban sprawl and had to deal with constant traffic all day. We passed through Sekigahara, scene of a decisive battle in 1600 at the end of a long period of civil war in Japan, that cemented Tokugawa Ieyasu's rise to power and ushered in over 250 years of a brutally effective totalitarian system. Sho and I didn't dwell for long on the past, though, intent on making it to Hikone, where we found a cheap hotel, ate dinner at an izakaya and were snoozing by 10pm. </div>Charles and Shohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08124323188239406637noreply@blogger.com2