I
So, here we are in 2011. A year which should be good for me, if my New Year's fortune is any indication - daikichi, or "big luck," the best one you can get. Woo hoo! And really, so far so good. I'm still alive and everything!
That may seem sarcastic, but oh, I assure you, it's not. Because I decided to go climb Mount Gozaisho, one of the highest mountains in Mie prefecture, with my friend Jenn on New Year's Eve, and well...let's just say thoughts of death crossed my mind more than once. That's right, I'm not afraid to admit it! My coworker Andy was challenging me a few days before, when I told him I wanted to climb Fuji with him, but had no climbing experience. I told him I could do it, no sweat - just gotta keep walking, right?
Normally, that'd be true...but not when you're in the middle of a snowstorm, with neither snow nor hiking gear, and you lose the path and end up hoisting yourself up, flimsy tree trunk by tree trunk, and edging around icy ledges with boulders and pointy branches sticking up beneath you on a practically vertical incline. But don't just take my word for it - look for yourself.
They certainly look beautiful (courtesy of Jenn), but at the time, I really thought I'd end up one of those dudes on the news getting helicoptered out for being a dumbass off on a mountain somewhere in a blizzard. We had bad omens right from the start: my camera died before we started the ascent, so I was looking for batteries, which I thought were "tenshi," but apparently it's "denchi" - tenshi means "angel." Looking for angels all right...about halfway through our climb, a guy in a big yellow coat with bells started limbering slowly behind us, out of nowhere, and for a little while I thought he might be an angel, come to look after us. But no, he just gave me an incredulous stare when he saw I was wearing sneakers, and moved on.
In our defense, it wasn't supposed to start snowing til noon, so we left at like 5:30 in the morning, started climbing around 7:30/8, but within an hour of climbing the snow was already coming down...eventually it got so bad that we lost the path, and then it got really frightening. I was worried about falling, and Jenn was worried about avalanches - the wind would blow and it'd be all white, we couldn't let go of the trees for fear we'd get blown down the mountain. Still, I didn't want to give up because I'd told Andy I could climb it, but eventually, between our numb extremities and the obvious danger of our predicament, we decided to head back.
On the way back down, we noticed a big arrow pointing to the path, which turned out to be a whole lot easier, but by then we were pretty drained and just wanted to get down and get warm. But the snow finally eased up a little as we made our way back down, and we found a beautiful waterfall - behold!
Even that waterfall could only pick me up so much, though. We'd been on the mountain for about four hours, trudging through the snow, completely soaked and so cold that I didn't even realize I was cold until I took my gloves and shoes and socks off in the car and put them up to the heater. We sat there for about twenty minutes, and slowly my hands and feet felt like flesh again, and not like frozen nobs. Then we went to an onsen.
II
An onsen, for those who don't know, is like a public bath/spa/hot spring. They are very popular in Japan, and widespread, though this was my first experience at one. I held off for a long time because a) being naked with a bunch of other guys in a hot tub is creepy, and b) when I do things for the first time, I like to go with someone who can speak Japanese, in case I run into a situation where I need to understand/communicate and can't. In this instance, however, the thought of going with a friend seemed even more uncomfortable (though not for the Japanese, who often go with friends, family, schoolmates, teachers - you name it, they've seen 'em naked).
But I always figured I should go at some point, and as we were both painfully frozen from our climb, this was as good a time as any. I'll spare you the details of the experience, but...let's just say it was awkward. The hot tub itself was almost insufferably hot - once you adjusted the water was alright, but the air was suffocatingly muggy. Maybe by myself, or with just a couple others it would have been relaxing, but it was so busy, being New Year's, that it was impossible not to think about where I was and how weird it was. Thank you, Puritanical American upbringing for instilling in me a sense of bodily shame.
That said, there was an open-air tub outside, which was still kind of awkward but wonderfully refreshing. Between the hot water, and the cool air...when the wind blew, my closed eyes lit up in neon yellow and electric blue. It felt like flying inside a big, warm thermal. I'd definitely do it again.
After the onsen, Jenn and I split up - she went to Kobe (though she wouldn't make it, due to snow), and I stayed in nearby Yokkaichi, where there was a show that night featuring Japan's greatest power pop act, The Breathless. The Breathless sound a lot like Gentleman Jesse & His Men, if you know who they are...and you should! I'd seen them a couple times at King Biscuit in Gifu, and each time had had a blast - danced so hard they gave me a free CD, so I bought them drinks, and so then they gave me a T-shirt... in short, we created a feedback loop of goodwill and good times.
So when I got there, Yamu, the lead singer, was real happy to see me - bought me a beer, and even gave me a shout out on stage before they started playing. For my part, I got into their show as usual, and pretty soon there were a few of us dancing, feeding into the band's energy...It was great, and towards the end of the show Yamu jumped the stage rail and started jamming out in the audience. He brought down the mic too, so we all could sing along - and I could actually do it, because their lyrics are in English!
The Breathless were fun, and I ended up sticking around for Yamu's other band, a 50s/60s style cover band who were also fun but not nearly as good as his main act. I also saw a band called The Ragamuffins, who played a jittery, new-wavey kind of pop, and they were good, I talked to them a bit afterwards. In short, the show was a success, which was good because the first band was so atrociously, high-school-emo-bad that I had some real doubts for awhile. I could only stay for a handful of the acts, though--the show went til midnight, but I had to catch last train or risk being stuck in the city all night by myself. If it were America, maybe I'd have gone for it, but in Japan, there's no guarantee people are going to be out at the bars partying til sunrise, even on New Year's Eve. In my limited experience, I'd say they don't really go for that kind of thing.
III
My train rolled into Gifu around 11:30, which gave me just enough time to get out and go say hi to some friends ringing in the new year over at Bierhall. When I got there, the place was wall-to-wall people, but I saw my friends Dak and Hiro and a few others I knew. I quickly fought my way to the counter, ordered a drink, and looked at the time - I had about ten minutes.
So I strike up a conversation with Hiro, and we're talking when all of a sudden some older Japanese dude, maybe in his 40s or 50s, taps me on the shoulder.
"This is an empty chair, please sit down!" he invites, with a big smile on his face. Well, that's a nice gesture, I thought to myself, but I was talking with my friend and didn't really need to sit down. I politely declined.
A couple minutes later, I get another tap. "Oh please, sit down!" He pushes the chair in my direction. This time, I decided to try it, but found myself eye-level with everyone else's ass, since so many people were standing. I couldn't even see Hiro, let alone continue talking with him. So I stand back up, and immediately the old guy comes and taps me again.
"Oh no, please, you should sit down!"
Finally, Hiro came up and whispered that the guy wasn't just being polite, like I'd imagined, but that I was blocking his view and that he really just wanted me to get out of the way. Basically, he was being a typical, indirect Japanese person. This pissed me off to no end - if he wanted me to move, he could have just asked me to, rather than pester me to sit down in this stupid chair, like he was saving it just for me because he was such a good friend. Forgive my insensitivity to cultural differences, but I just found it incredibly disingenuous and obnoxious.
So I'm talking with Hiro, after the umpteenth interruption, when the dude comes over and taps me again. "Oh please, here, use this chair!" I couldn't take it anymore.
"NO!" I shouted into his face and stormed off across the room.
So I was in a pretty bad mood when we began our arbitrary countdown. Counting down isn't something they do in Japan, so a bunch of just took a consensual cell phone time and, when it got close enough, began shouting down from twenty. When we hit zero, I clanked a few glasses, but my friends were all on the other side of the room with that jackass old man. I finished my drink and hightailed it right afterward, so I could catch the 12:25 last train.
I went outside. Snow was falling as I walked to the station. Suddenly, I realized, even then, that I couldn't get too upset, because at least I wasn't on that goddamn mountain.
IV
My New Year's Resolution is to not think about things more than 24 hours in advance, and not to worry about them when I do. Thanks to Gozaisho, I've been able, thus far, to achieve this. So here's to 2011: the Year of the Rabbit, the year of Big Luck, and the year of anxiety-free living. Happy New Year!
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