Sleep as a reflection of life

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It has been some time since my previous post. So what has captured me? What have I been so thoroughly engrossed with that I cannot even try to entertain my friends with stories of tomfoolery?

Well, the embarrassing truth is that nothing has been happening. I've said it before, but it has been especially true of the last month - whatever has occupied my time, there are few stand-out events. I watch a lot of TV, and have accordingly improved at listening in Japanese while maintaining a pretty shoddy level of speaking - but, hey the shows are worth it. I've become better at my job: we've since switched animals a couple of times in search of better brains, and I've become surprisingly adept at discerning anatomy in a short time frame. My sensei hands me an animal and demands sagittal sections of Wernicke's area - and it's up to me to figure out the rest. I've done everything from Wikipedia-guided cerebrum circumnavigation to turning poorly photocopied diagrams like a lost tourist trying to find their hotel. It's fun to be learning new things, but I feel it happens too rarely. Mostly I just work, cook, watch TV, and sleep.

I did get a vacation a little bit ago, though - during the week of Daimonji, my work gave me the whole week off. I decided I'd head up to Tokyo to visit my buddies there and had a great time reconnecting. It began -

Saturday, in bed. I woke up slowly, comfortably, and rolled around for about half an hour. Flopping my hand around blindly, I reached out from beneath the sheets, seeking my comfy headphones. The other hand I used to smack the area where I thought I dropped the remote control. This is the stuff of paradise - my music, my toasty comfy lair, late mornings. I enjoyed some delicious fruit.

I had bought an overnight bus ticket to Tokyo, which was an affair I was excited about. I like traveling - it's a good way to collect your thoughts and bask in thoughtful isolation. And there was something quintessentially Japanese about the overnight buses. Waiting for evening, I had a great time spending the day in loaf and slothed . While there were tickets to Tokyo, the only one was out of nearby Uji - but, thankfully, it only ran me like $3 to get to this next town over. I took the slowest train possible, enjoyed the countryside, and was greeted by a sign proudly announcing that Uji was the birthplace of Japan's "Tale of Genji" before being overtaken with widely-spaced houses and the darkness of night.

It proved a quiet little town for dinner, so I enjoyed the calm and awaited the lumbering bus of the slumbering. When it finally shuddered to a stop in front of me, the driver got out, checked my ticket, threw my backpack into storage, and whispered a thank-you while indicating my seat. I sat down in the darkened room, the lights extinguished, the curtains drawn (on all four walls, including the front), and my sleek somnibus shook and heaved to the motion of the road. I was immediately rocked by a tide of sleepiness as the vessel rocked me to sleep. So much for thinking deep thoughts. I woke up at -

5:25 a.m. on Sunday, face in my palm, supported by my (entirely dead) elbow, when the bus again shuddered to a stop. Much to my surprise, when the curtains were pulled back, I looked out to see the bus had stopped on the roof of a building about seven stories high in an area surrounded by skyscrapers. Some of the passengers exited. This did not feel right, though - bus stops ought to be located on the ground. I went back to sleep.

And woke up again half an hour later, same position. The gentlemanly driver announced that we had arrived in Shinjuku, and the bus was properly located on a street running between buildings. I have no idea where that previous stop was, but I certainly didn't dream it. Just get used to the surreal and odd in Japan, especially Tokyo. In some of the downtown areas, it is more efficient to use other layers of streets so you don't clog up traffic, and this extends to the roofs of buildings as well.

It was still far too early to bother one of my friends, so I did what any respectable Japanese person would do at this hour of the morning and checked into an internet/manga cafe. I've mentioned before that this is not quite what you might expect: I was given my own room with a wooden door, an expansive leather chair, a large TV (equipped with lots of channels), a PlayStation2, game controllers, an LCD monitor, and a gaming computer (pre-loaded with games, chat programs, and software suites). And access to a shared shower and bathroom (with the most advanced toilet prototype I have yet seen: it has an infrared sensor so, should you dare to approach it, it literally lifts its toilet lid in anticipation of you and begins warming the seat) - for $3 per hour. That's the price of two cans of Coke here for an hour of high-tech relaxation. I don't understand this country's economy.

After three hours, it approached A Time at Which One May Contact One's Friends, so I sent off a couple of texts. Apparently, Han had a late night and required a little more sleep. I moved onto a cafe which served macha muffins and had a cappuccino to begin my day. I spent more time there than they are probably used to, slowly waking up, but eventually I decided to leave and get more of a feel for the city. I wandered out onto the pavement and tried to sense the aura of Tokyo - but very little sensing needed to be done. There is just a LOT of stuff in Tokyo - lots of tall buildings, lots of neon, lots of cars, and LOTS of people. It takes some time to get used to; the Tokyo crowd says after a couple weeks you adapt, but it was extremely arresting for me.

Eventually, Han and I met up at a train station, and he began the tour. We took the day really slow - meandering interrupted by long breaks followed by decidedly non-vigorous moseying. We visited a pretty temple where we mostly sat and caught up, a park (they do exist in Tokyo), and some crazy Goth-meets-Roccoco girls (I'm really not exaggerating this one - check out the pictures). Apparently, they spawn near a particular bridge in Tokyo and coagulate there while tourists come and peer at them.

We then moved on to Yoyogi Park, which was populated by all manner of public performers, from dancers to snack vendors to musicians. Walking through the crowd, we managed to meet up with Max and Sylvia, so the four of us stopped and listened to a solid band do its thing. Amid the musicians were vendors selling all kinds of used merchandise; these appeared with greater frequency, eventually culminating in a large flea market area. Somewhat strangely, in the center of this cobblestone park housing a flea market was an elevated stage, upon which dancers and a DJ were scratching it up. The somewhat scattered audience bobbed energetically to the beat - while we mused on the reasons for a 2.p.m sun-shining-Sunday outdoor rave.

We passed several hours in the park listening to musicians and people-watching. Eventually, we decided to get out of the hot sun and hopped on the train system, exploring another region of Tokyo before the sun set.

Dinner time came and we continued our grazing style of eating, picking up food when it was convenient. We met up with Stephen and Sanghoon eventually, chilling at a bar, and caught up a little on their lives. This is what occupied most of my time in Tokyo: we spent a long time talking, which I enjoyed immensely. While I feel like I can handle isolation and loneliness perfectly well, even to the point of finding enjoyment in it, when I can relax with my old friends again I'm really hit by how isolated I am. This is the only time it really bothers me.

Eventually Max, Sylvia, Han, and I headed back to crash at Max's place. Max is probably the highest-paid internship student in SCTI by a significant amount: he works for an investment company which kindly provided him with an incredible apartment and some impressive wages. Walking into his apartment was like stepping into some artsy commercial: the entire layout was Japanese-minimalist-avant-garde - clean lines, chrome, glass, all shining white or black surfaces, low (white leather) couches, (black) wide flat-screen TV (resting on chrome and glass table). We pulled apart his leather sofa, spread it out along the floor, and passed out. Slowly -

I awoke on Monday in the late late morning staring at the ceiling with an oddly placed foot along the side of my vision, dangling about two feet above me. I realized the cushions I was sleeping on had separated, but surprisingly my body didn't hurt. All told I was feeling pretty good for having slept on the floor. The hovering foot shifted angles and withdrew, replaced by a shapely leg floating off the edge of the bed from a different angle. Sylvia smiled a good morning and Han hit up MTV. We then spent the next three hours getting dressed to leave the apartment, rolling around in bed or on the floor, chatting, slowly showering, and watching TV.

We slowly wandered downstairs and out into Roppongi, deciding that we ought to head towards the imperial place. We went there after eating a delicious but insufficient quantity of food at a Mexican restaurant (first Mexican food since the fiesta), and stopping for some time in the park nearby the imperial palace. The cool fountains there gave us a respite from the heat, and we had a great time splashing through them - fountain-hopping international.

By the time we actually wandered to the imperial palace, through its massive garden / park, through its long driveways, up its gravel path, it occurred to us that perhaps the royal family continues to live there - a fact which might make our entry difficult. Eventually, I think we did find a major entrance, probably for tours and such, but we were hot and tired, so we relaxed for a little, and then departed instead. We had heard the view from the top of the government building was worthy, so we headed to the top there, watched the setting sun, and dined on green-tea ice cream thousands of feet in the air.

We had made dinner plans the previous day to have Indian food. I mentioned before the Japanese restaurant business suffers from a lack of foreign food - a benefit of our melting-pot society that never would've occurred to me otherwise - so we were all extremely excited about the upcoming all-you-can-eat-naan and curry adventure.

Which turned out to be as pleasurable as expected.

Afterwards, Han and I headed back to his place, where we were going to crash before our 4 a.m. departure for the beach. But sleep was not for us, yet. We went to an Izikaya , snacked on edimame and had a couple of beers. We were joined by Tommy (smart guy, alternative energy + Stanford solar car dude, and one of the engineers of the fiesta's armadillo piñata), and Tim (EE, jazz aficionado, saxophonist, and ruminator), where we caught up on life, talked, and relaxed. Around 1 a.m., I was snuck in past the (missing) security guard, ushered upstairs, and crashed on Han's comfy floor. A scant couple hours later -

On Tuesday at 3:30 a.m., I woke up on the floor with night still holding siege over the land and not a ray of daytime allowed in yet. I cursed the promptness of the Japanese and Han's co-worker for wanting to avoid the traffic and get to the beach early. I had had so little sleep, though, that I was wide awake right after getting up. I put on the clothes I laid out the night before, brought my day-pack downstairs and went out to the meeting point. Precisely at 4 a.m., Han's coworker pulled up and the five of us crammed into the car and sped off into the Japanese highway system - to be befouled by the outrageous tolls. The highways themselves are amazing - high-quality surface, smooth rides, brightly-lit tunnels, wide and expansive - but they cost an absurd amount: tolls of $5 every fifteen minutes, and a couple of ridiculously expensive tolls - $20 or more - every now and then. But zooming down these highways, like much of Japan, had a surreal feel to it: the sound-proofing walls they build on the side of the highways are taller here with the tops curved to partly cover the highway itself, so the effect is one of flying down a series of tubes. The sound-roofs don't completely enclose the highway - there is a wide stripe of clear sky above the cars - but the sides were enough to suggest the arcade-feel.

Anyway, we drove for a long time, somewhat uncomfortably crammed into the car, constantly having to stop and pay tolls, but it was a great way to see some more of Japan. I enjoy driving and watching, seeing things that pass by, and thinking about how everything comes together. The early hour, the money, and the lack of room, however, detracted from the experience more than I'd like. Additionally, our driver had zero sense of direction and kept getting lost, looking at maps - and then refusing to follow their advice, randomly turning. We arrived at the beach, finally, after many hours of driving, at around 9 in the morning. It was cold, early, and there was not another soul there. We asked to go check into the campsite we were going to stay at for the night.

After getting lost several more times, we ended up there, where we encountered another surprise. Although the term "bungalow" was thrown around - a word whose meaning was uncertain, but vaguely implied walls, a structure of some sort, perhaps including a shoddy roof - our bungalow consisted of a plot of dirt in a field of plots, and a folded blue tarp. Two unlucky souls would get the “bungalow” and three would get the car. This struck us as less than ideal, especially given that it had begun to rain. Our moods had begun to sour - the foul weather, the constant paying, the complete lack of other people, the frustration of always being lost...

We went back to the beach to relax for a little. We swam in the water, populated by wee little kiddos, sat on the shore (I went back to sleep and listened to music, and had a fine time) - until it began raining on us. At this point, we withdrew from the beach and convinced our driver to take us home, something which relieved me greatly.

We drove back home, but stopped along the way at the delightfully named Island of the Sea Fireflies. It's not a real island, but rather one engineered because the Japanese wanted a neat-o bridge that plunged down through the water into a tunnel; this island was the halfway point where bridge became tunnel. This is of very little interest to my Virginia crowd, where our population of a few hundred thousand (generous) is given an absurd number of bridge-tunnels. Nonetheless, this island was a prime spot for more commercialism, so they built a many-storied mall, at the top of which was a restaurant at which our driver treated us to a sushi dinner. Afterwards, we walked around the perimeter, enjoying the night breeze off the ocean and the magical sparkling of the sea fireflies (which were not so much biological organisms, but perhaps leaned toward decidedly unbiological 150-watt blue halogen lamps placed on the rocks to randomly flash. But this is Japan...).

And finally, thankfully, made it back to Han's apartment. We spent far more time in that car that day than any of us would've liked, but we were finally free, be it late or not. We headed back to Han's place; I unrolled my stuff, exhausted, and prepared to sack out. I would've liked to sleep-in come morning, but I was to meet my Sensei for Daimonji the following day at 5 p.m. in Kyoto, a city around seven hours away by bus and ten by local trains. So, when I woke up at 9:15 on Wednesday, I -

Immediately fell back asleep. I woke up, again, at 11 and determined that "all is lost," enabling me to sleep for several more hours. At one in the afternoon, I truly woke up and realized I needed to Shinkansen out ASAP. So I packed my stuff, sneaked down the side staircase, hopped out over a fence, and headed to the station.

I grabbed a box of Ritz crackers and a bottle of Royal Milk Tea (my favorite Shinkansen-ing snack) and put on my headphones. The Shinkansen can't be beat - it's sleek and classy, quiet, air-conditioned and comfortable, and the view is wonderful. My lovely iPod Eve selects music for me to enjoy while I sip my tea and watch the countryside speed by. Most excellent.

As soon as I got back to Kyoto, I had to hop on the subway, took it to my apartment, threw on a blazer and a button-down shirt, hopped on my bike, and biked to the meet-up point. When I arrived there, I grabbed a drink to cool off, and waited for the car.

My sensei came and picked me up; I was glad to see I had not dressed inappropriately for the occasion as his family was similarly attired. We all headed to my teacher's friend's apartment on the fifth floor, and were ushered in by the very nice family that lived there. They sat us down in their living room gave an extremely fine and extremely traditional Japanese festival dinner. I would've loved to take a picture of the beautifully prepared dinner, but it was not in the spirit of the fine event, so we just relaxed on our pillows on the tatami and slowly dined the evening away. I had a lovely time, as always, talking to my boss's daughter.

Eventually, the darkness had reached a pitch meant for fire and the hills were set aflame. Check the pictures. Thankfully, the Japanese didn't spend their efforts trying to make long-lasting flames to burn through the night; rather, it seared the night sky for a mere half-hour with blinding brightness. A sight truly worth seeing. Afterwards, exhausted from five days of travel, partying, and adventures, I collapsed into my apartment and went to sleep.

Rockin' out.
~Danny

P.S. Things are getting crazy now. There have been two strange developments for me since I’ve started writing this blog - the first was when people here in Kyoto discovered it. Suddenly, several of my characters became aware of their existence in the story and could select their plot and monitor its development, which, though marvelously post-modern and all that, was still odd for me.

The second is happening now: the Stanford sophomore seminar program - a system in which people travel for two or three weeks before school to some location and take a very focused class - has selected Kyoto as one of their locations, so Stanford students have started appearing here. People Who Do Not Belong Here have plunged from the sky into the narrative as the world is crumbling.

I’m starting to write more, nearly every day, because things are changing so quickly. I may not be able to post these until I get back, but there will be several posts concerning the last couple of weeks in Japan - at some point. They should be smaller and more well-crafted, too - instead of these lumbering behemoth posts.

I was surprised to learn that I am in the denouement. Where was the climax? Real-life narratives lack proper structure, yo.

Out.

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Photos

DaiMonji
A picture of the big "Dai" [large, big] mountain.

View From Max's Balcony
The view is really wide - it's too bad the camera can't get it all. Anyway, a cool view (especially at night) from Max's balcony.

Harajuku Girls
Photo Credits: Flickr member danburgmurmur. The crazy goth-meets-rococo girls.

Imperial Palace
The park in front of the gravel boulevard in front of the imperial palace. There's a lot of stuff you have to go through to get there.

Imperial Palace
Along the gravel boulevard in front of the palace.

Government Building
View from the top.

Han
Han rocks the Island of the Sea Fireflies. Nice palm trees, too.

Neyagawa + Newport News
My hometown strikes again - apparently as a sister city to one in Japan. More likely than not, it's a different one but hey...

Colonel Sanders
I've said it before - the Japanese are very good at making something familiar and reinterpreting it in a new way with hilarious results.

DaiMonji
A picture of the "Hou" [Law] above the nearby apartment building.

Kamogawa
Still pretty. I tried to trace the origins to the endpoint of the Kamogawa on bike, but it turns into a real river.

Ryoanji
Yet another temple I visited. It has a nice rock garden, though.

Ryoanji
And a pretty woods behind it.

View from the lab
Another view of the hillsides overlooking Kyoto.

Engrish
Every time I rent a video, Tsutaya reminds me as I walk down the stairs that I can get a lot good amenity from the store.

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