Ahhh, Fuji-San!

Our [Fodors] Japan book has been extrordinarily helpful in its maps, recommended walks, and "not-to-miss" sites. Until yesterday, that is.

We spent our last full day in Tokyo on a day-trip to the Fuji National Park - a region called Hakone. According to the Japanese, the reflection of Mt. Fuji ("Fuji-San") in Lake Ashi is the most beautiful scene in all the world, owing to its symmetry and its grandeur.

Our day was just a conglomerate of transportation, which can be a nightmare for people like us that love walking and hiking. Between the train ride from Tokyo, the tram up to the scenic cablecar, the cablecar to a scenic ropeway, the ropeway down to the scenic boat tour, and the boat tour across Lake Ashi, we hemorrhaged out $80 between us (which is a lot by our standards), and saw Fuji creep over the horizon a mere handful of times.

The one thing that did substantiate our trip was the many Japanese passengers (many of them elderly) that accompanied us on the journey. Each time Fuji fell into view, we heard gasps of excitement and adoration: Ahhhhh! Fuji-San!

It was as if they weren't sure if it would still be present once they passed the tree that obscured their view.

On the ride back, we kinda shrugged at each other, but our fellow Japanese passengers were still reeling from the excitement. We napped on the train home and saw several more market neighborhoods once we returned to Tokyo proper.

Shelling out $80 must be a necessary evil to circumvent the regret of skipping one of Japan's most adored natural treasures - but we got a better Fuji view on the train ride from Kyoto to Tokyo.


And now, we spend the better part of the day in Tokyo, then head to Thailand.

Without further ado, miscellaneous pictures from Hakone and the rest of our Japanese journey. We'll write soon.

Nara

We spent the day in Nara, Japan - the capitol city of Japan before Kyoto and Tokyo. Aside from the constant barrage of Japanese public announcements and suspiciously-brainwashy children's songs blaring over lamppost loudspeakers, Nara was charming.

The premier destination in Nara is the Todaiji temple, the largest wooden structure in the world. It houses a 55-foot bronze buddha, which was so expensive to build that it crippled the economy and led to a peasant revolt. Goes to show that you gotta pay for the food-ha before you splurge on the buddha! (tap, tap, tap) Hello? Is this thing on?

Whilst in Nara, we ate something called Yakisoba (we're not quite sure what this is) which was cooked right at our table. We couldn't recognize it by taste, smell, or appearance, but it was tasty with sake.

We've also learned a bit about the hipster scene by observing the urban youth. Either the fashion is twenty years behind or five years ahead (and sometimes, what's the difference?). In case it's the former, here's what you can expect - primarily compiled by Sara, the Friedman fashion consultant:

• Paula Abdul/Cindy Lauper hair (both genders).
• Elvis sunglasses.
• Schoolgirl uniforms and pigtails for young adults.
• Short skirts (or multiples) with high boots or high socks.
• Cowboy boots or converse all-stars.
• Nihilistic English sayings on t-shirts (pictured at right).
  
• For the senior citizen ladies, hair colored like bland snow-cones - white with some scattered hints of blue and pink.

Back to Tokyo for two nights. Eat a burrito for us.

Shrines and Sake Shelves

We've covered a lot of ground in the past few days.

We saw every temple Eastern Kyoto had to offer, one of which (Kiyomizudera) is nominated to be a "New Wonder of the World" - apparently, you can cast your own vote at http://www.n7w.com. After a few hours of gazing at mult-stpried, multi-tiered, dark-wooded temples with ornate cyprus roofs and and garish Buddhist shrines inside, you start sheepishly accepting everything you see, and find it hard to discriminate among similar sights. It's like looking at massive gemstones or royal treasures:

"Wow, that one's even grander than the last."
"Yeah, and the placard here says it was named a national treasure a century ago."

Then, you try to absorb as much of the culture and craftsmanship as you can in the little time you have, but it's unrealistic to fully grasp the opus of multiple master craftsmen/landscapers lives' work.

"Well, should we check out the next one?"
"Yeah, I think so."

We also gazed upon several hundred teacups, teapots, and sake sets for sale in Kyoto, your Japanese ceramics headquarters. After we resolved to purchase a sake set for ourselves, I (Scott) began to pay more attention. Since we're on vacation and our lives are relatively stress-free (our only daily tribulation is figuring out whether we're chewing on octopus or tofu- and more often than not, it's octopus), figuring out which sake set to purchase became a concern. Nay - an adventure.

Scott: Babe, look at this one.
Sara: Well, that one doesn't have a little signature on the bottom.
Scott: Oh, hmm - you're right. Well, I'll be damned if I'm going to drink rice-wine out of a machine-made or sub-par vessel!
Sara: Ditto.

In the end, we purchased a teapot that technically shouldn't be used for heating and serving sake, but we still think it's pretty wicked cool. Plus, if you're knowledgeable and audacious enough to mention that technicality as we're serving you sake, you'll be politely escorted from our domicile shortly after sustaining third-degree burns from scalding hot rice wine. Hot damn.

P.S. - We caved in and dined at an Indian establishment. Don't judge.

Zen Masters

Hot Japanese Breakfast. That:s what our hotel advertised, but we had no idea what to expect. Basically, it:s a bunch of stuff you wouldn't want to encounter at 7AM, unless you're still drunk and havent hit the hay from the night before. Miso soup, rice, home fries, tomato salad, battered hot peppers, and cabbage rolls in hot broth. Most unfortunately, there was nothing we could smuggle in a backpack for a complementary lunch.

We bisited the Imperial Palace - the most impressive part was the gardens, designed to give the viewer a multitlde of different views as they traverse each bend of the garden path.

We ate an especially vomitous lunch at a noodle bar - nothing risque, just a horrible, smoky, chicken-noodle soup. Alas, not all noodle bars are created equal.

We then visited the Daitokuji temple and adjoining Koto-In zen garden. the latter was very tranquil, and a pleasant break in our day.

We ended the day with a private tea ceremony at the Kinkakuji temple (gold pavillion). The thick green tea packed a mean buzz!

A Fistful of Yen

In our time here in Japan, we've tried withdrawing cash from over thirty ATMs without luck. Even though this country is technologically savvy, they aren't all hip to the plastic. We were running low on cash - panic set in.

Most ATMs have no English directions, so instead of inserting our card and gambling with the Japanese-character buttons on the touchscreens, we've employed the "walk away and act like you just got cash" strategy. That way, people don't laugh at you - however; it doesn't get you one Yen closer to a subway pass or a bowl of noodles.

The ATMs that actually had English instructions would only accept Japanese bank cards or Citibank, and we roll with Wells Fargo check/debit Visa. Platnum, baby. That's how we keep it real.

Some philanthropic bank tellers explained that if you have an international debit\cash card, you need to visit an international ATM at a post office. With this pearl of wisdom, we withdrew a substantial sum, and we've been wrecklessly spending all of our liquid funds like a rookie MLB shortstop with a new contract. That's right - instead of walking the four miles from the shrines back to our hotel, we rode the bus. Bling-bling!!!

(Not) Alone in Kyoto

Transit to Kyoto took shy of three hours, but the stress may have taken hours off of our lives. Tokyo JR (Japan Rail) station is a sea of frenzied Japanese sprint-walkers. The reasons we weren't separated are simple:

• We could both see clear over their heads.
• We were wearing our neon down jackets in a sea of drab trenchcoats.

We spent our first afternoon in Kyoto at the Nijo palace, and purchasing our "permission slips" for some of the better-protected national treasures. A visibly upset European girl was in the slip office when we arrived. The women behind the counter were extremely polite, yet seemed unable to help her with her issue. She stormed out, and the Japanese women shared high-pitched, squeaky chuckles. We joined in. Good times.

The most interesting feature of the ancient Nijo palace was the "Nightinggale floors" - floorboards that sound like a pleasant bird call when tread upon, for intruder alerts. They acieved this by building in a few millimeters of space between the boards and the studs below. Selling your property? Don't forget to accentuate your Nightinggale Floors.

We spent the evening in the Gion district, a historical-yet-hip corner of Kyoto. Unable to find a "cute" dinner spot for less than $30/dish we ducked into another noodle bar and got loaded on sake rice wine. Not a bad compromise.

We did some shopping - Sara found a must-have purse "that's OK to buy because look how well it can pack down into our suitcases." I looked for a crazy-hip Japanese t-shirt, like one with a ninja killing a dragon who's eating a snake with huge fangs - but all the hip Japanese shirts have nihilistic English wording on them, like "High as Hell," or "Rockabilly Jim's," or simply "F-ck." No t-shirt acquired.

We searched for ice cream on the way back. Guess whose idea? Wrong - Scott wanted to sample the Haagen Dazs caramel crunch bar that's exclusively marketed in Asia. We found it at a grocery store and enjoyed it in our complementary hotel kimonos. In Sara's words - "Mmmmazing!"

Big in Japan

Our flight across the Pacific was pleasant enough - I (Scott) have a few complaints about the computer references in our in-flight movie "Man of the Year," but many more important things are afoot.

Tokyo is a marketing phenomenon. No square inch of the city is safe from obscure, cartoonish, advertisements. The only blank canvases are the bottoms of the bowls in the noodle bars - which by the way, is something the USA should look into adoptiong.

Re: noodle bars - in less than five minutes, you can shimmy into an alley, place your order, make the most satisfying slurping noices you've ever imagined (which, in fact, is encouraged), and continue on your busy Japanese way. We've hit two such spots in our 24 hours here.

Jet lag can be leveraged constructively. We awoke in our hotel the first morning at 2:30 AM (Scott) and 5:00 AM (Sara) just in time to catch the subway to Tsukiji market, the premier sushi fish trade on the Tokyo coast.

So we show up right on time to find the market closed for "holiday." However, we stammered across Tokyo by foot and rail to see the free gardens, shrines, and palaces, determined not to let our early start go to waste. Unfortunately, the city was largely asleep, and we were the only people (tourists or otherwise) getting our shot at the city so early. We did, however, return to the maket square later in the day to eat the freshest and most rapidly-devoured (they want you in and out in 10 minutes to free up the barstools for other waiting patrons) sushi either of us has ever tasted.

We spent two hours of that afternoon in the Ginza district at a Kabuki performance, a theatrical play style invented hundreds of years ago, in Imperial Japan.

After the performance, the one word we could agree on is "Interesting." The audience laughed at certain dialog and plot elements, and we laughted at - well, everything else. To illustrate the performance: painted faces, feudal Japanese garb, verbal intonation reminscent of inane Monty Python sketches, and an all-male cast (even for female roles).

Also today:

• Mastery of the Tokyo subway system, and discovery of the delectable sandwich samplers (read: Japanese adult Lunchables) peddled therein.
• Roaming the Asakusa market and temple, through the Kappabashi (read: cookware) district to buy ("The Cutest Ever" -Sara) teacups.
• Searching for large Japanese kitchen knives.

Up next: Kyoto, Japan.

Adieu, Mon Pays

We're packed and provisioned according to Sara's impressively attentive lists, and we're both a bit dazed this morning from our week of unemployed celebration and relocation. Dazed but excited, like two monkeys getting shot off into space. However, these monkeys are highly evolved, and they have a plan; here's where we'll be for the next 2.5 months:

• Japan (Tokyo, Kyoto)
• Thailand (Bangkok, Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai)
• Cambodia (Siem Reap, Angkor Wat)
• Vietnam (Hanoi)
• Laos (Luang Prabang)
• Kenya (Nairobi, Masai Mara)
• Tanzania (Mt. Kilimanjaro)
• UAE (Dubai)
• Egypt (Cairo, Aswan, Luxor)
• Greece & Crete (Athens, Iraklion, Chania)
• Turkey (Istanbul, Cappadocia)
• Romania (Bucharest, Brasov)
• Italy (Rome)
• Iceland (Reykjavik)

...Pretty much in that order. We'll write when we're across the pond in Japan. And now - fourteen hours of breathing stale air and sharing farts in a massive jetliner.