Last Fuji Pix

As some of you (now) know, there is a post office atop Mt. Fuji. As you can see in this picture, besides some postcards, I also bought a sheet of commemorative Fuji stamps (on the left), and, believe it or not, as if it proves anything, a "Certificate of Successful Ascent of Mt. Fuji" (on the right). Why? Why not?











Peeking through the clouds, you can barely see the parking lot where I started my climb.











Everywhere you go in Japan, you see toriis, including on Mt. Fuji.











Here's another shot of a torii.











As I descended the mountain, I got closer and closer to the sea of clouds below. It's now 5:10 p.m. and, as you can see, there are still plenty of people making their way up the mountain. Throughout the short climbing season, there is a constant stream of traffic heading in both directions on the trails.












Fuji vegetation.











Just before 6 p.m., I spotted this young boy heading up Fuji. At that point he still had over 1000 meters and, I'm guessing, at least 5 or 6 hours to the top.











Who knows if that kid pictured above even made it to the top. Many people don't, as they succumb to altitude sickness somewhere along the way. I talked to one young couple, for example, who turned around just about 300 meters from the summit, because they were feeling rather sick. And here's a picture of a young boy sucking in some badly needed oxygen. Even though this scene took place at about 3200 meters, I witnessed the same thing several times all along the trail, including at around 2500 meters, practically at the start of the climb! By the way, you don't need to bring your own supplemental oxygen; it's sold at the "stations." And I'm glad to report that I didn't suffer any ill effects from the altitude. Or did I? After all, I did seem to have trouble addressing postcards. In one case, I wrote the wrong zip code, and in another case, I left off a part of a person's name (in Japanese). Hmmm...











Clearly, not everyone suffered on the climb. These three guys were probably having the most fun on the mountain!











Besides the relatively small crowds, I was also pleasantly surprised at how little garbage there was along the trail. I heard Fuji-san was full of junk, but most of the litter I encountered was of the tiny variety, similar to garbage I find on just about any trail anywhere in the world.











Back at the starting point at 6:30 p.m., a little more than 9 hours after I started the hike. There's a saying in Japan: One who climbs Mt. Fuji once is a wise man; one who climbs Mt. Fuji more than once is a fool. So I guess I won't be climbing Fuji again any time soon. But there are different trails to explore and I may want to climb her at night someday. So who knows? Maybe I'll go climb her again in the future. Fool or no fool.

The Climb, Continued

Perhaps the oddest sight of the day was this guy jogging down the mountain. After he passed me, he stopped briefly to take my picture (that white thing in his right hand is a camera). I was too flabbergasted to ask him whether he had jogged up, too, but something tells me he did.











Yes, even babies "climb" Mt. Fuji. This little girl was the youngest person I saw on the trail. (The oldest person I came across, who I failed to get a picture of, was about, oh, perhaps 80! I passed him on my way down, probably at about 2800 meters. He was moving incredibly slowly and climbing by himself. I was absolutely amazed at his efforts.)














I packed plenty of snacks and drinks, but supplies are readily available on the mountain at each of the "stations" along the way, at least during the brief climbing season, which only runs from about July 1-August 31. The goods cost more than they do at sea level, but the prices are still rather reasonable.











The "stations" also serve as mountain huts. Many people spend anywhere from a couple of hours to an entire evening in the huts, trying to catch some valuable z's, usually before heading back out in the wee hours of the morning so they can catch the sunrise from the top. I decided I'd rather climb in full daylight. After the fact, I'm glad I did. The trail was way too rocky and slippery at times for climbing in the darkness, even with the aid of a headlamp. Perhaps one of the other trails is better suited for climbing at night.











I didn't expect to see any snow on Fuji, but the little snow I did encounter wasn't a surprise, either. This was at about 3500-3600 meters.











Just before reaching the top, the trail got a bit more crowded, but it was never as bad as what I expected.











Finally, just barely over three hours after I started the ascent, I reached the top of Mt. Fuji. Or did I? Actually, I reached the crater rim of the volcano, which included a shrine (rear, center) and a post office (rear, left). Do you see the guy just off to the right of center? Look carefully and you'll see that he's making a phone call. Not bad, eh?











To get to the actual summit, I had one last climb in front of me, Kengamine, where the weather station is located. That was about another 100 meters to the left and, of course, up. After a quick 10 minutes... I was finally... drum roll please...











on top of Japan!











Here's the view looking down upon the shrine and post office area.

Climbing Mt. Fuji

My biggest concern about climbing Mt. Fuji was what the weather was going to be like, especially since the weather forecast wasn't all that promising and my climbing window was rather narrow. In fact, I planned to climb on Monday, August 3, and about my only other option was going to be Tuesday. But that really wasn't much of an option. So when I arrived at the airport in Fukuoka on Sunday and was told that I wasn't able to check in for my flight to the new Mt. Fuji Shizuoka Airport since the weather in Shizuoka was so bad, you can imagine how I felt. Nevertheless, despite the initial delay, my plane actually took off on time, and, even though we were told that our flight might be diverted to Nagoya, we landed where we were supposed to. (Check this: The folks at JAL told me that if we did divert to the other airport, we would have to make our own way back to Shizuoka, nearly 200 km away! Huh?)

Believe it or not, I didn't get my first glimpse of Fuji-san until I woke up early on Monday morning. I spent the night in a town called Fujinomiya, since that was where I was going to be able to catch a bus to the trailhead in the morning. At about 5:45 a.m., I awoke and immediately thought, "I wonder if I can see Fuji." And there she was, right outside my hotel window. And the weather was great. So I knew the climb would be a success.











There are several trails leading to the top of Fuji (3776 meters). For logistical reasons, I chose the Fujinomiya trail that starts out at 2400 meters. Before I even started my hike, I could go shopping and dining.











Many people buy a traditional walking stick before they begin their hike and have it branded (for a slight fee) at each "station" along the way to the top, generally from fifth to ninth. I elected to do without the stick.











Many people told me to be careful on Mt. Fuji (two climbers froze to death about a week before I climbed, for instance) and there were several signs along the way warning of falling rocks, but I was never worried. Fuji was more difficult to climb than I expected, but still far easier and far safer than many other climbs I've been on. Despite the warning signs, I never once felt as if what I was doing was unsafe.











You encounter poor translations throughout Japan, including on Mt. Fuji! What's a PHSU?












Lots of people climb Fuji late in the day or throughout the night so that they can see the sun rise from the summit, like these two guys, who have made it most of the way down Fuji by 9:30 a.m.
If you look closely, you'll see people spread out higher up on the trail. There were a lot of people climbing, but no where near as many people as I expected, which made for a nice surprise.















A climber resting on the trail at about 2700 meters.












Two more climbers enjoying a relaxing moment on the trail at about 2800 meters.











A lot of people who climb Fuji are climbing a mountain for the first time in their lives. Hiking boots do come in handy, but some people climb in regular ol' tennis shoes.

I'm back!

Hey everyone! I'm back. At least for now.

Sorry about leaving you hanging all these months(!) since my last post.

Why haven't I written for so long?

Well, for one, since the new school year started, I've been going to twice as many classes as I did in the previous year. I now go to about 15-18 classes a week! And I go to the first class of the day pretty much every day. So sometimes when I have a brainstorm on the way to school and want to write about it when I get to school, well, off I go to class. As a matter of fact, I sometimes go to all four morning classes. So by the time I have a chance to write, well, I'm pooped!

For two, the mid-day schedule has changed a bit, and I've been given an additional, rather time-consuming responsibility just before lunch. So that has taken some of the air out of my blogging sails. (I'll fill you in about that soon!)

Also, well, I guess you could say it's because of a combination of such things as: 1) not being as dedicated to my blog as I need to be; 2) having been on vacation here and there and therefore not able to write; 3) spending a lot more of my free time studying Japanese; 4) spending a lot more of my free time with bicycle riding; 5) spending a lot more of my free time with other thoughts; and 6) not willing to make public a lot of what has been going on lately, especially at school.

In any case, it's now the beginning of a new month so perhaps this is a good time to start writing again. Also, August 6th marks the beginning of my third year in Japan! So that's another new beginning, right?

OK!

So... What can you look forward to reading about next?

Well...

Tomorrow I'm flying to Shizuoka.

Because on Monday...

I plan...

to climb...

Mt. Fuji.

Stay tuned for more.

As if you weren't already...

Thanks for your patience!

New Students Welcome Ceremony

When kids start school in Japan, it's a pretty big deal. The new students welcome ceremony is probably the most formal ceremony besides graduation.

So once again, the teachers bust out their black suits and mostly wear white underneath, including white ties for the men. (You'd almost think everyone was going to a funeral, except that then the ties would be black.)

About six months ago, I bought a white tie for just such occasions, but I’ve yet to wear it.

Just like at the welcome ceremony last year, I prefer to go with a more colorful look. So I’m wearing a dress shirt that has a combination of orange, pink, and white, and my tie is mostly dark blue with yellow whales on it. (It sounds wilder than it looks.) I’m not the only teacher not wearing white on white, but we are certainly in the minority.

Before the ceremony begins, the second-graders decorate the first-graders' classroom. I'm not positive that's a Japan-wide thing, but I bet it is. Unfortunately, most Japanese fail to ask me to check their English before they make big signs, so sometimes the signs have slightly ridiculous things written on them.

Take a look at one of the two chalkboards that the second-graders decorated this year. I absolutely love it, since it expresses how I feel quite often. I really got a kick out of it.

(For some more detailed info regarding today’s ceremony, read this blog I wrote about it last year.)

Faux Pas

This morning I made a little faux pas.

I owed a buddy 7000 yen (about $70), so I showed him that I had his money and put it on his desk just before he got there. (I'm not sure why I didn't just hand him the money. Maybe he had his hands full.)

As soon as I put the money on the table, it occurred to me that I was supposed to put the money in an envelope first. That's how money is handed from one person to another here.

Oops.

To make things worse, he even handed the money back to me and said, "Could you please put it in an envelope? I don't have my wallet."

Ugh.

I promptly found an envelope and gave him his money. I apologized to him and told him that the money-in-an-envelope concept is a Japanese thing. He kind of giggled a bit and also said he was sorry and that it wasn't that big of a deal, that he simply didn't have his wallet.

Live and learn.

On the Outside, Looking In

Japan is a place where being part of a group matters more than whether or not you actually contribute to the group.

That’s why I do my best to be present at all the morning meetings at school even though they start at 8:10 (I don’t have to be at school until 8:30) and I can hardly follow what’s being talked about.

And that’s why I go to most of the assemblies in the gym, even though I usually don’t understand most of what is being said at those, either.

And that’s part of the reason why I helped all those teachers move in and out.

And it’s why I sometimes go to neighborhood parties, even though it usually means sitting uncomfortably on the floor, eating food that I’m not especially fond of, and not being able to communicate with many of the other attendees.

Then again, I still try to maintain some sort of individual identity. For instance, I only wear a tie when absolutely necessary (such as at graduation), which means that I’m often the only male not wearing a tie. But plenty of other teachers here have their own personal quirks that make them stick out from the crowd, too, so being different is clearly not un-Japanese.

Today it really hit home, however, that despite my efforts I’m always going to be treated differently than everyone else.

I’m not just talking about the fact that I’m a foreigner and everything that that connotes.

And I’m not talking about the fact that I’m neither required nor asked to attend any “big” meetings, such as most of those that have been taking place lately, what with the new school year getting started. (During the rest of the school year, “big” meetings take place about once or twice a month.)

And I’m not talking about the fact that I’m neither required nor asked to attend 99% of the English department meetings.

And I’m not talking about the fact that every teacher, including me (hah!), is assigned to some sort of non-academic group (mine is the environment and health group; other groups include the research group, the dormitory study-time group, and the news and information group), but I’m the only one who wasn’t asked to do anything for his group.

No.

What I am talking about is what happened today in the gym, when all the teachers lined up in front of all the students according to what grade they would be working with in an additional homeroom-teacher role and then got introduced to the students. Except me.

And what I am talking about is what I observed after the assembly, when, out of curiosity, I went up to the fourth- and fifth-grade classrooms to watch what the homeroom teachers did.

What did I see? The homeroom teachers introduced themselves individually to the students (new and old teachers alike) once again, got greeted with applause, passed out new books and a bunch of paperwork, and then made numerous announcements.

And all the while, there I was, standing in the hallway, behind closed doors, watching the proceedings though the sliding glass windows. Wondering why I wasn’t assigned to the same duty as everyone else.

There I was, on the outside looking in.

It wasn’t a great feeling.

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On the same note, every teacher and faculty member at my school has a small, engraved nameplate that they wear on their shirt. Except me.

Well, not exactly.

I was the only exception. Until a few days ago, when my nameplate arrived!

When new teachers start working at my school, they are given a nameplate.

But not Yama. No, Yama had to order his own.

But order his own he did.

And now Yama is a bit more like everyone else.

And believe me, the kids noticed! They got quite a kick out of my new nameplate.

And I wear it with pride.

Walking to school? Of course!

For the most part, I still walk to school every day. At least two of the teachers who were transferred a couple weeks ago also occasionally walked to school, so I wondered if there would be any walkers among the newbies to replace them.

Almost right away, I found one replacement. Mr. A, the new English teacher (in the center of the picture), told me he wanted to walk to school with me. That was good news, until he told me what time he planned on leaving home: 7:15.

Remember when I started walking with Moto way back when? It was bad enough having to start out with him around 7:30 instead of 8:00. But now the new guy is telling me he wants to leave at 7:15? So we would arrive at school at 7:45? Even though the first class doesn't start until 8:40? Hmmm...

I bargained a bit and got Mr. A to change his mind. So yesterday we headed to school at 7:20. Just behind us were the elementary school kids who live at our apartment complex, accompanied by Mr. T, one of the two guys who have been living the longest at otokozaka (the name of our apartment complex) and is therefore our elder.

Mr. A was kind of in a hurry, so he (we) didn't wait for Mr. T. But Mr. T caught up with us by the time we reached the bottom of the hill leading up to school, so we all finished the walk to school together.

I asked Mr. T if he planned to walk to school every day. His answer: "Of course! ... Until tomorrow."

This morning, Mr. A called me and said that he'd like to meet me at 7:25. Yeah! That's more like it. Because 7:25 will turn into 7:30. Which is a good time to leave. And indeed, when I went downstairs to meet him, there he was, standing with Mr. T and the group of elementary school kids getting ready to head out. So we actually left at nearly 7:35. Nice, huh? And we all left together, which is nicer, of course.

At least two teachers who drove by asked us if we walk to school every day. Mr. T answered for us: "Of course!" And when the drivers had gone on ahead, he said, "Until today."

And just before we arrived at school, another new teacher, Mr. H (R's daddy!), appeared on a trail through the woods. I wasn't surprised at all to see him walking to work, since he already struck me as an outdoorsy type of guy. (Mr. H lives at hirokino, which is the other teacher's housing complex that I mentioned a long time ago. Hirokino is about a five-minute drive to school, and I just can't comprehend how anyone who lives there bothers to drive to work when it takes the same few minutes to walk here.)

So there we were, the four of us, walking together along the last 50 meters to school. Now if we can just get the rest of the teachers to walk.

On another note: I try to take a picture every morning of the same scene. For a long time, the daily picture I took was of me in front of a rice paddy. Then I switched to just taking a picture of the rice paddy. But I got tired of that same picture. So I started taking my picture in a new spot, only about 100 feet from the back entrance to school. That's what the second picture above is all about.

Oh, and that third picture? Well, I just threw that one in there to take up some space! The photo was taken in the parking lot where the local vegetable store and kajika-no-sato (a restaurant close to school that I once mentioned) are located. Like my new shades? Like my hat?

Today's Lunch

The students don't come back until tomorrow evening, but the faculty and staff all ate lunch in the dormitory cafeteria today. Lunch was basically a big welcome party for all of us. As such, the lunch was unusually good.

For one, we had rice called "tai meshi," which is rice with tiny little sea bream mixed in. I think that was the first time I had it and it was pretty tasty. And the soup had a bunch of little chunks of chicken in it and also tasted good. And we even got a creamy, freshly-made dessert with some strawberries in it, which was a real treat.

Not all of the food was all that great, however, but overall, it was one of the better meals I've ever had here.

Considering the lunch lady is new, well, there's hope for better things to come. I'll find out soon enough.

One more note: I was surprised to see the women sitting separately from the men at lunch. I thought that rule only applied to the students (except for lunch time, when boys and girls are almost always mixed), so I was disappointed. I asked a teacher about it and he said something about Japanese tradition.

I guess for the Japanese, such behavior is normal, but for me, well, it's strange indeed!

P.S. Apologies for not having a picture of the food. I stopped taking pictures of lunch a while ago, so I'm not in the habit of taking my camera to the chow hall. Mistake.

My New Four-Legged Friend

One of the new teachers, Higashiguchi-sensei, has a black lab named "R." She reminds me very much of Mila, the black lab that I share with Courtney's family. R is a couple years older and a bit smaller than Mila, but she makes some of the same semi-peculiar sounds and movements that Mila makes. "R" doesn't necessarily stand for anything in particular, so Courtney and I named her Razzle, since we sometimes call Mila "Razzlebear."

We took Razzle for a walk yesterday from her apartment to Josenji, the local temple that is just down the street from school. And on the way back, we took a detour through school and ran into the hausumasutas and their families having a BBQ (their welcome party). They were all glad to meet R, and R was lucky to score some food!

Today, when I got to school, Higashiguchi-sensei told me that R was very happy and already looking forward to her next walk. Just like Mila, Razzle is labradorable!

Welcome Parties

Welcome parties are a big part of the culture of working at Japanese schools. Everyone at school goes to at least two welcome parties: a departmental welcome party and a welcome party for all faculty and staff members. Most teachers go to at least one more party, however, since clubs also have welcome parties (I think we might be having a welcome party for the new members of the baseball team) and there's also the party to welcome the new neighbors.

All these parties, no matter how big or small, have a semi-formal feel, mostly because they always start and end at an official time and with a brief statement or two. But for the most part, they are fairly relaxed events.

The English Department held its welcome party for the three new English teachers this past Thursday at the local izakaya, Masa-chan.

One of the three teachers, Mr. A, is taking over for my supervisor, who was transferred (against his wishes?) to a junior high school in Miyazaki City. He and I are getting along great so far, and I hope our good relationship continues for a long time.

The other two new English teachers are the new junior high school Vice Principal as well as the new Principal. The outgoing Principal was not an English teacher, so our department picked up a member. That gives us a total of eight teachers and makes us the school's biggest department.

I haven't talked very much with the new Vice Principal so far, for whatever reason, but I am happy to say that I have already had a few discussions with the new Principal. He has a really laid-back manner and his English is excellent, so I have an easy time approaching him and talking to him.

Presents Galore!

In Japan, the fiscal year starts on April 1st. Since teachers are coming and going like mad at this time of year (on average, teachers here move to a different school every three to five years), the week leading up to April Fool's Day is a good time for people in the moving business.

It's also a good time to be a neighbor, since you get rewarded for helping people move. The people who are moving in or out usually provide drinks, at the very least, although most people wait until the moving trucks are either full or empty before they pass out the liquid refreshments. (Our newly ex-principal passed out energy drinks during the move!). And if you're lucky, you'll probably get some kind of snacks, too, usually in the form of yummy factory-baked goods.

But you never know what you're going to get. This year, for instance, the most unusual presents I got were a pair of chopsticks, two 1.0 kg boxes of laundry detergent, and a dozen eggs! And this year, like last year, I got several boxes of tissues, too.

What's more, the gift-giving doesn't stop until a few days after the moves are over, since it's also common for the new folks on the block to go around to their immediate neighbors and pass out presents. So during the last couple of days I've scored some more boxes of cookies, as well as a couple small hand towels, which are traditional gifts.

Even before the moving starts, however, the outgoing teachers usually pass out presents to their colleagues. Those presents tend to be more personal, such as the engraved pencil holders that the outgoing baseball coach gave to us players, or in the form of gift certificates. (This year, for example, the outgoing teachers collectively gave all of us two 500 yen coupons for the A-Coop grocery store chain, and the outgoing principal gave all of us two 500 yen coupons for the hotel/restaurant/onsen across the street from school.)

All this gift-giving associated with moving in and out is just another example of how polite and proper the Japanese people are. I hope I'm able to live up to their expectations when the time comes for me to move on.

2009 Charity Bike Ride

This weekend, I took part in an exciting three-day charity bike ride.











We rode through beautiful sunshine as well as pouring rain; we rode on busy streets and quiet country roads; we grinded our way up a bunch of long hills and came tearing down many others (at times reaching speeds of nearly 40 mph!); and we rode in pairs as well as in a peloton.










We spent two nights at campgrounds, saw farmers burning grass on hillsides, had our fair share of semi-close calls with vehicles, and consumed lots of fuel (food).












Overall, I had a great time and am looking forward to my next ride, which may be as soon as this coming weekend.

Tadpoles, Two-wheelers, and Transfers

Thousands of tadpoles have started to re-appear in some of the rice paddies. Soon, froggies will be serenading us at night again. When I first heard how loud the frogs could get, I wondered if I'd ever be able to sleep at night. But it turns out that the sound the frogs make is actually one of the nicer things of living here in the countryside.

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Beginning tomorrow, I'll be participating in a charity bike ride. We're riding approximately 100 kilometers a day for three days, in a big circle starting from Oita City in neighboring Oita Prefecture. Wish me luck! For more information, click here.

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Today was the day that teachers in my prefecture were notified about where they were being transferred to. The process started a couple hours ago and lasted for about 30 minutes. Just like last April, about a third of the staff will be moving on.

The personal ramifications for me are twofold: 1) Five of the ten teachers who are being transferred from my school are members of the Bombers, my baseball team here at school; and 2) My supervisor is being transferred.

As for the Bombers, there's a pretty good chance that we won't be able to field a team any more, since we've taken such a hit. Obviously, the future of the team depends on the baseball ability of the incoming teachers.

As for my supervisor being transferred, well, I've been resigned to that fact for the last year, so it doesn't come as a surprise. My new supervisor will be one of the other English teachers here at school, so I really don't anticipate there being any problems. Things won't be the same without my supervisor, but that's how life is in Japan. Nothing stays the same around here for too long.

Talk about rubbing it in

Here's basically how the first two teachers I saw today greeted me:

"Japan is leading Cuba 5-0 in the 7th. The USA didn't play so well..."

"Japan is beating Cuba. Too bad about the USA."

So here's hoping that Team USA rebounds from their loss against Puerto Rico and that Team Japan ends up losing their next game.

This could get embarrassing in a hurry.

Japanese Culture

I learned a little lesson about Japanese culture yesterday.

Two girls went to the store together to buy some ice cream. A-san wanted to buy ice-cream bar X for 125 yen but had to settle for ice-cream bar Y, because she only had 105 yen. B-san also wanted to buy ice-cream bar X and had enough money to do so, as well as to spot A-san the difference so she could have ice-cream bar X, too. But instead, in a show of solidarity, B-san bought ice-cream bar Y. Why? That's just how the Japanese roll.

I would have spotted A-san the difference. What about you?

Making Babies, Japanese-Style

Here's another article of interest regarding Japanese lifestyle.

My (South) Korean Vacation (Part 3)

This picture shows the view of North Korea from the Dora Observatory in the DMZ. The big building on the left (along with several of the other buildings?) supposedly is empty and was built simply as a propaganda tool. I only took a limited DMZ tour, so I didn't go to Panmunjong. Maybe next time. By the way, yes, I did keep my distance from those two funny looking creatures.










I was surprised to see barbed-wire fences as well as so many guard towers along the river that lead from the DMZ toward Seoul. When I took this picture from the freeway, we were already well past the DMZ and back into "real" South Korean territory. The fences continued for miles.










One day, I went to a place called a jimjilbang. It's fairly similar to the Japanese onsen. One of the main attractions of a jimjilbang is the igloo-shaped sauna. Or should I say kiln? Man, that sucker is hot inside! It must have been over 100 degrees Celsius! I went in about three times, but each time, I only lasted about 2 or 3 minutes. When you go in, you take something like a potato sack and wrap it around your body. And some people wrap their towel around their face. And you sit on straw mats. And you sweat like mad! I don't really understand how people can find that a pleasurable experience.







They even cook eggs in the kiln. I have no idea why. Probably because that makes the eggs oh so healthy. Believe me, the egg tasted about as good (or rather, disgusting) as it looks.










Right next door to the kiln there was what amounts to a freezer. Talk about contrasts in temperature. One minute you're like a piece of clay being fired; the next minute you're a piece of meat being put away for storage.













Two more things about the jimjilbang: They are cheap (this one cost about 6000 won or about $4.25) and they are open 24 hours a day. In other words, if you need a really cheap place to stay, this is it! There are pads to sleep on and rooms to sleep in. A jimjilbang is a big step down from Japan's capsule hotels, at least in terms of privacy, but you can't beat the price!













Honey Potato Burger, anyone?













Check out the world's smartest milk. I feel like a genius just looking at it!










There was many signs of safety in the subway stations, from barriers between the passengers and the incoming trains...










to fire extinguishers...













to gas masks!













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I rode the Korean equivalent of the shinkansen, the KTX (Korea Train Express), from Busan to Seoul and back. The 400 km ride takes a little less than three hours, and the train travels at a maximum speed of just over 300 km/h (we topped out at 307 km/h). The KTX had the normal 2/2 seating layout, with half the seats facing the front and half the seats facing the back, so there was nothing unusual on those two fronts, unlike the shinkansen.

What was surprising was how cheap the KTX is! The one-way cross-country trip costs roughly 47,500 won, which is about 60% cheaper than what you would pay in Japan. And in Korea, the fare apparently changes depending on a number of factors, including whether you reserve a seat facing forward or facing backward (don't quote me on that, but I seem to remember that being the case), whether you buy a "reserved" or "semi-reserved" seat (there are a couple of cars with free seating, the only restriction being that you should sit in the direction indicated on your ticket), whether you buy a standing-room-only ticket or not (when available), and what day of the week you are traveling (I think there is no way to avoid paying a little more on weekends, when the trains are seemingly almost always full, for example). Also, you pay about 500 won extra for buying a ticket from a human instead of a machine (you pay a similar fee in Holland), and I don't think you can use a foreign credit card to purchase a ticket from the machines, since you have to have some sort of password (you can easily use your credit card when purchasing your ticket from a human).

In any case, I rode four times and paid 45,000 (cash, weekday, semi-reserved, machine), 48,600 (cash, weekend, reserved, human), 51,200 (credit card, weekend, reserved, human), and 45,000 (cash, weekday, semi-reserved, machine). Also, the ticket machines weren't as customer-friendly as they could have been. For one, the screens only give information in Korean or English. For two, you can use the "edit" button only until the point when a seat is assigned to you. Then, you either pay or start over. So if you want, say, a reserved seat facing backward ("wrong") but the machine decides you should sit facing forward ("right"), or if you want a window seat but the machine gives you an aisle sit, you can't just change your seat. Instead, it's back to square one. Frustrating!

One thing that I thought was especially unusual about riding the KTX was that the boarding procedure is a bit like boarding a plane at an airport. About 99% of the passengers wait until the "Now boarding" announcement is made before heading to the platform, even though no one stops them from doing so. It's like it's an unwritten rule, perhaps. And since the announcement isn't made until about 15 minutes before departure, you would expect there to be a mad rush for the train. But somehow the mad rush is more of a controlled process, probably because everyone has a seat assigned to them and the passengers are spread throughout the train. I think the only other time I have experienced boarding a train like that was at Charing Cross Station in London, but there you couldn't board the train until they gave the green light.

The other unusual thing about riding the KTX is that after you purchase your ticket, you pretty much don't need it anymore. For instance, you don't need your ticket to pass through the turnstiles at either end of your trip, and, as long as you stay in your assigned seat, the chances of the conductor checking your ticket are slim. Why? Well, the conductor knows exactly how many tickets have been sold and exactly which seats are taken. The result: As long as everyone is in their place, the conductor won't have to check any tickets.

And finally, for whatever reason, many passengers leave their tickets at the exit gates. Maybe that practice was imported from Japan, because there you often hand your ticket to an agent at your destination. But there's probably a different reason behind that behavior. Whatever the reason, no one forced you to give up your ticket, so I hung on to mine.


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I met a bunch of people in both Busan and Seoul, including a really nice Japanese family from Kagoshima Prefecture in the southern part of my island (Kyushu). I was just hanging out in a tiny park, watching mostly elderly Koreans exercising on various contraptions, when this cute little girl came up to me and said, "Hello." So I talked to her a bit and then got into a conversation with her father, who happened to be an English teacher. We hit it off pretty well and he invited me to have dinner with him and his family. So we met up again later in the day and had Korean BBQ. And they actually treated me, which was really nice of them.

I also met Emilia, a girl from Taiwan who was staying at the same guesthouse as me. We hung out one day, doing a bit of sightseeing and grabbing a couple of meals together. She was on her way to Paraguay, where she was going to do some sort of volunteer nursing work for a year. She didn't speak much English, so, when she asked me if I spoke Spanish, she was ecstatic when I responded with a "Sí, un pocito." So there I was speaking Spanish to a Taiwanese girl in Seoul, South Korea. You gotta love it! Unfortunately for me, though, my Spanish really isn't all that great, and my brain kept thinking in Japanese as well as spitting out words in Italian, since my Italian is much better than my Spanish. But somehow we managed to communicate quite a bit.

And I now have a favorite foreign currency bill, the 500 Taiwanese dollar note. What's so great about it? Well, take one look at the picture and you'll have your answer.

I met some other cool people, too, like this guy who I met while walking around Seoul . He had lived for a while in New York City, so he pounced on the opportunity to talk to an American (me) again. We only talked for a couple of minutes, though, and then he and his two girlfriends went their way and I went mine. I was then left to sort of kick myself in the rear, wondering why I didn't make an attempt to hang out with them longer. You know, it's a lot more fun hanging with others than it is to hang alone, especially in an unfamiliar place. Anyway, I stepped into a store for a few minutes, and when I came out, they they were again, slightly up the street from me. So I caught up with them, we chatted some more, and they invited me to go eat with them. Remember the pictures of the stir-fry followed by the fried rice? This is who I had that meal with.

By far the coolest person I met in Korea was Lisa. I can't tell you how nice she was. She happens to live in Milan at the moment, and was in Seoul on vacation. We met in a subway station when she offered to help me buy a ticket. I actually didn't need help, but I guess I looked lost. We were both heading in the same direction, so we talked for a while. And the crazy thing was, we hit it off like we had known each other for years. She gave me some advice about where to go sightseeing and invited me to meet her and a couple of her friends later that night. So we met again several hours later. One of her friends was this guy who had just gotten into town from L.A. He was studying architecture and was a real artsy type, but we also hit it off as if we'd known each other for ages. I was having a great time talking to him, but then he had to head home. So Lisa, her other friend (I can't remember her name because she had a "real," and thus for me unusual, Korean name), and I went out to dinner together. And Lisa paid for me! And then we took a taxi to the part of town where I was staying (which also happened to be where Lisa had parked her car, since she lived relatively close by, too), and Lisa paid for that, too. I'm telling you, she was NICE!

The next day, New Year's Eve, Lisa took me to the jimjilbang. And yes, she treated me once again. She kept telling me how nice Koreans were and that that was just her way of being hospitable. Unfortunately, she headed to the east coast (of Korea) that night with her family to catch the first sunrise of the New Year, as is a tradition in those parts, so we didn't see each other again. But someday I have to pay her back for treating me so nicely.

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On New Year's Eve, I headed to the center of town to celebrate the beginning of the New Year. Unfortunately, the event wasn't really all that spectacular. I didn't even see a clock (real or digital) prominently displayed until there were about thirty seconds to go before midnight. And the most noise being made was by the hundreds of people protesting against Lee Myung-bak, the South Korean President. It turns out those who don't favor the President have given him the nickname "2 MB," which is a play on his last name combined with his supposed ultra-slow brain processing speed. (I believe that sign the guy is holding up must say something like, "Out with 2008, out with 2MB.") So the celebration was more annoying than fun, to tell you the truth. But I was close enough to the stage to catch a glimpse of some of the invited guests, and I was able to hear the bell ringing in the New Year. Shortly after that, I headed to the subway station, since I feared that the protesters might get out of hand, despite the enormous police presence.


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Back to food: Here's some of the best food I had in Korea, purchased from a street vendor. I had one of those vegetable pancakes and six of those dumplings. The total cost was only about 4000 won, I believe. Cheap and quite delicious. Plus, I learned that when Koreans eat, they don't hold their plates or bowls up to their mouths as they often do here in Japan. Instead, Koreans reach down with their chopsticks and bring the food up to their mouths.