Himeji Looked Daggers Under Black-Bellied Clouds

Today we all, all us three, skipped work and rode off to Hyogo prefecture (three hours southwest of Nagahama), where we bumped into Himeji-Jo, a massive castle dating back to the mid-16th century.

Meet the players:


[Ryan: dressed like a scarecrow in order to fend off the Japanese Blackbirds of Unusual Size.]

&


[Gillian: winner of the Best Smile award in junior high, and if there were a Best Of contest in adulthood, I gander she’d still hold that title.]

Himeji-Jo was astounding. Perhaps this is because, as the Castle Committee writes, “Himeji has never been involved with the evil of ill war.” Whether or not it’s been involved with the piety of advantageous war is beyond me, but let’s assume its likelihood. Here she is, “a white egret in flight.”




Covered shooting holes (for sissies and namby-pambies).






[Gillian lounging in what we all agreed to be “a good climbing tree.” Later a guardsman wearing the most adorable uniform made us get out of said good climbing tree. There was a “blackbird’s house” near the top, and he was afraid Ryan’s scarecrow costume would, after all, scare the birds away.]


[Gillian and Ryan scoping the plump carp in Koko-En.]


[Ryan crossing the pond, thus risking imminent carp attack.]


[We, all us three, tallest to smallest--Himeji-Jo glowering in the background.]

3 Comments for this Entry
Brodave
Great Pictures.. see you in two months.

thanks for the early morning birthday call. And thanks to the girl who reminded you . ha.
Friday, March 2, 2007 - 03:33 AM

Mom
Beautiful pictures, thanks for sharing. See you in 28 days !!
Friday, March 9, 2007 - 05:58 AM

erin elders
when you get back remind me to tell you about the blackbird that attacks me everyday on my way to work.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007 - 09:31 AM

Duggan!

I was surprised to encounter my old friend Ryan Duggan outside Imamiya station in Osaka City on Saturday. Granted, he’d been planning his trip to Japan for months, but because of a string of hang-ups (his brief stint in the clink, my incommunicado disposition of late) I never thought it’d happen--at least not so smoothly.

It had been seven months since I’d last seen Ryan, but when we walked away from the train station toward our lackluster hostel room, I felt like I’d never left Chicago, and also like Ryan had always been in Japan.

That night I introduced Ryan to distinctively Osakan cuisine. The most accurate way to describe okonomiyaki is as a rice, noodle, and vegetable omelette with a “savory” sauce. But that doesn’t really do it justice. Just ask Ryan; it tastes like shit. But we had it anyway, hunched over the crowded bar of a cozy diner called TAKO TAKO KING, where we gulped down overpriced pints of good Japanese beer and ended the meal each with a too-tall glass of hot sake (which Ryan couldn’t stomach, so I had to help him out).


Next: Strolling about the always-humorous America Town, we wandered into a third-floor bar called Cobra King, where--yes, believe it--a Japanese ska show was in full swing. We got there just in time to watch the headlining band (and just late enough to avoid paying the cover). They were called Good, Better, Best, which I liked because it was like an English lesson on comparatives and superlatives for the Japanese 15-year-olds in the audience. Win-win.

The next day we met up with the lovely Gillian, who came down from Shiga to hang out with us.

We frolicked through groves of blossoming plum trees (and ate yakisoba among them).
=



Then, having had enough culture for one day, we went bowling.


[Gillian “The Kidd” Osborne]


[Ryan “Tatted Up Like a Mother Fucker” Duggan]





We all really sucked. A lot.

Japan and Abby and snow and white trees and Mexican food, et. al.

This past weekend I made that long journey to Nagano once again. I was foraging for snow and meeting Ms. Abby Augusta, whom I hadn’t seen since January when she, her parents and I roved around Kyoto together. It was Friday night, late, when I arrived in Saku--Abby’s whimsical town of birch trees and goat creatures whom appear and disappear as erratically as I tend to this blog.

We spent Saturday sleeping through morning then driving around town in her little red car. We found soggy trails to hike and a frozen pond where townies were fishing for spring.


I remember remarking to Abby that these people looked extremely depressed, squatting in solitude over their small holes in the ice, dormant cigarettes hanging from their lips. But if you squint your eyes, she replied, it looks like they’re all out there taking a crap in unison.

That was the scene exactly.


Paddle boats disguised as a gaggle of swans, made idle by the ice.



Snowpeople. Apparently big fans of ice fishing.


Abby Augusta admiring a lonely white tree.

Later that day we bathed at a beautiful onsen (hot spring)--one of three onsens we paid visits to that weekend alone.

The next morning we drove north to Hakuba, where the winter olympics took place 10 years ago, where we were promised snow. Alas:





We went snowboarding as soon as we got there. Our chair lift ascended over the olympic course, which was a relentless sequence of harsh moguls and flailing skiers. Needless to say, we stuck to the green and blue runs (this being Abby’s second go at snowboarding and my first in two years).

It felt good to see heaps of snow again.

That night we sought out Hakuba’s non-Japanese restaurant selection and fortuned upon a Mexican place on the outskirts of town. When we walked in, the staff said they were full and shrugged their shoulders about how long the wait would be (typical). Luckily, a table full of real Mexicans beckoned for us to join them. We did. They were stand-up fellas--all of whom spoke perfect English and had traveled all over the world (although they kept saying origami when they wanted to say arigato).