Advertisement
Published: June 11th 2008
Edit Blog Post
June has welcomed the rainy season to the shores of my humble abode, although the days have been more humid and cloudy than rainy, to the misfortune of the farmers, whose young rice fields must remain submerged under a reflective sheet of water to survive. The summer brings with it a seemingly endless string of festivals and events: there are beach parties to attend, watermelon marathons to run, and no doubt many more bizarre rituals to observe.
As I stated in my last entry, I now live at the base of the humble Mt. Daisen, with its peak set at 1800 meters overlooking the coastline. This weekend, Daisen locals celebrated the opening of the mountain, a bi-annual event, held for the skiing and hiking/climbing seasons. Exactly two-thousand bamboo torches are lit in front of the shrine, located 800 meters up the emerald mountain. A procession led by the temple masters who carry lanterns and oragami streamers flows down the stone staircase and into the town below. This festival is a way of sanctifying the mountain and wishing for the safety of those who come to enjoy it. We arrived just before dusk, in enough time to buy our meter long bamboo
torches, which ignite by an oil soaked cloth at the top. We climbed the moss soaked stone staircase to the top, passing the usual festival fare of fried squid and bean filled confectionaries, until we reached the shrine, where two smiling temple assistants spooned us out cups of sacred sake to aid in the mood of the evening. Many costumed characters moved through the crowd dressed as legendary spirits, but often they were gone before i could remove my lense cap. Perhaps this was done to evoke the spirits lying in Daisen's woods. Two metal baskets sat upon poles by the shrine entrance, filled with kindling. As the last rays of light disappeared behind the trees, the crowd moved in anticipation to watch the temple masters come out with their torches and lanterns. They lit the lanterns first, then the metal baskets, which were to be used by the crowd. Leading the procession, they began to descend into the town, where a band of taiko drummers would be waiting to greet them with a performance. Although it was a simple affair, I felt very special being able to participate in it. Many of the faces in the crowd were famillar
to me: students, teachers, people I have met at social events. I didn't feel like a tourist come to watch a spectacle, I felt very much a part of everything around me. I felt at home.
And since the climbing season has arrived, I joined in a hike this month with a dozen ALTs and one genki guide. Staying at the youth lodge nestled behind a canvas of bamboo at the foot of the mountain, a community center of sorts, we shared tatami style dormitory rooms with local students enjoying similar outings. When we set off in the morning, fluffy clouds hung to the peak of the mountain like a cheap toupe. The road took us 700 meters into our goal, after which it was just up to us and our calf muscles. Like Mt. Fuji, this climb starts with a passage through the old temple. As we ascended the stone staircase, the sound of the temple gong rung through the dew-laden foliage. Mingled with strange cries and whistles from exotic birds, the only other sound was my own patterned breathing. The stone steps turned into slabs of earth secured with a log, but soon this gave way to clusters
of rocks, which came loose as you pulled yourself up their half-meter ledge. Soon, clouds were passing through us, making everything misty and magical. Impressively, there were many groups of elderly Japanese on the trail. I met one elderly woman with a walking stick bearing the stamps of all the mountains she has managed to climb, Mt. Fuji among them. Many other groups were professionally geared with sporty backpacks and metal rod walking sticks. But there were also families on the trail, and the most impressive was one woman who climbed the whole mountain with a 6 month old baby strapped to her back! Nearing the top, the foliage remained quite thick, but we were above the insect line, allowing the splendid views to be taken in more comfortably. With 200 meters to go, we emerged out of the clouds and into the sunshine, where the views were now completely clear. Tufts of soft green were everywhere, and a white suspension bridge separated us from the carved stone monument announcing our arrival. We celebrated there, on top of the world, with rice balls and what was left of our water. There was a small lodge on top, which sold water
for $5 a bottle. I was actually a bit surprised to not see any vending machines on the top, it being Japan. Coming down only reminds me that I lack the balance of a mountain lion, as I constantly stumble and fall over loose stones and steep ledges. In my opinion, they should build zip cords connecting the peak to the base, allowing you to zoom down, grazing the tips of the trees just enough to make your heart jump.
I didn’t get my onsen afterward, but we did get
yaki niku (Japanese style BBQ) and partying with the college students. However, we were awoken Japanese style: via a bell at 7am so we could have cleaning time! We had to vaccum the halls, fold up the bedding and even clean the toilets. Breakfast was a communal affair, with food set n big pots for self-service. More cleaning time followed. But after all the hard work in the morning, our reward now was being up and ready at 9am to head out onto the beautiful mountain lake for a bit of kayaking. Of course, what was meant to be innocent kayaking turned into a vicious game of kayak tag, resulting
in most of our nautical crafts being overturned in the excitement. I think our guide was getting a little sick of pulling us troublemaking foreigners out from the water!
More 'firsts' have come to me this month, as this week I am visiting for the first time the second of my junior high schools assigned. Between the slew of schools I’ve been ushered into these past 8 months, one consistantcy I have found is that the characters of the staff always sets the mood for the attitudes of the students. This school is no different. And while the teachers are all very nice, they are less outgoing and friendly as my other school. In turn, the students are much less talkative. My first class of the day was with Mr. Noguchi, who looks more like a math professor who had been locked in a closet for too long. Wearing thick glasses and a mismatched suit, with suspenders pulling his pleated trousers up to his chest, he carries around ripped up pieces of pachinko flyers on a keychain which dangles in front of his trousers, which he uses, apparently for the sole purpose of book-marking pages. Whereas in my last school,
I enjoyed two blissful months of creative teaching, at this school, I am now back to being a tape recorder. The crazy pleated professor has a formula to teaching, and this, in fact is a math formula. For the entirety of the class, he wrote equations on the board to explain how to properly combine grammar into sentences while a tape of classical music plays in the background.
At every school, there is always a handicapped class to teach. Usually, there are around two to five students, whose reasons for being there vary. Some have emotional problems, some genuinely retarded, or others just slow and hyperactive. There are two girls and three boys in my new handicapped class. Two of the boys are identical twins, and, at the age of only twelve, tower over me at a weight of roughly 200 pounds apiece. They fall into the slow and hyperactive category, and being brothers, they quarrel. On only my second visit, blood was spilled. A simple game of, “lets have a race writing the ABCs on the board” seemed to have gotten them too excited, and only moments after class, the teacher and I heard screams and broken glass. One brother accused the other of not playing fairly, and threw a punch at him, only to break the glass window behind him. The teachers dealt with it the Japanese way, to silently guide the bleeding boy into the nurses room, and then all pitch in to clean up the glass. Now, we are only allowed to play ‘calm’ games.
Ah, life is an adventure...
Advertisement
Tot: 0.125s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 10; qc: 45; dbt: 0.0574s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb