Figure 1

A dodgy curry can give your butt a burning feeling next morning.But spare a thought for those Japanese who sat down on their throne with their daily Shinbun (newspaper) and found that their butt really was burning up! Click here

From the country that bought us electronics giants like Mitsubishi, Toshiba and Sony comes another household name, Toto. (Well, maybe only in Japanese households). On a freezing winter’s day there’s nothing quite like spending half an hour on a warm toilet seat. And I don’t mean warm from the flatmate before you. I’m talking electric.

Lets get ‘under the hood’. Click the image for the dirty low down on the Japanese loo. (figure 1). First thing that you’ll notice is there are more controls than an airline seat. Don’t fret, your seat is warm, take your time to play with ALL the buttons. For more of an eyeful check out Wikipedia

One last tip, don’t walk out forgetting those anime toilet slippers you put on!

Inaba Shrine, Fire Warriors

Japan turned on a weekend out of the bag.

My flatmate Tsun and I set out at 5ish on Saturday morning bound for the slopes of Washigadake only 1 ½ hours north of home. In the back seat were her rug-rat niece Mei, and nephew Daiki, aged 8 and 6 who were going with us. Tsun was keeping a promise she made to them last year, and kids never forget. Their first time on skis began with enthusiasm and expectation but quickly changed to frustration. So we put them in ski school. (more…)

Andre and the Nabe Pot

The year is alive!
Things this year in Japan have started pretty much as they left, albeit a little colder. It’s winter.

So for some winter warmth a few friends and I got together for Nabe. I like the word Nabe, I like saying it lots of times – NabeNabeNabe. What on earth is it? Think of a communal pot of bubbling hot water, sitting on a little portable stove. And then, you wanna eat it? Just drop it in the water – crab, chicken, pork, beef, cod, salmon, mushrooms, shungiku… you get the idea. When it’s done, grab your chopsticks and fish out whatever takes your fancy. Pop it in your bowl with some daikon, celery, garlic and Japanese Ponzu. Add alcohol and music and you got yourself a hippie party. Thanks to Bill and Mineko for putting on this fun little shin dig. (more…)

Naomi and I at Senzairou

Senzairou is a special Japanese Ryokan dating from 1764 nestled in the wooded mountains of Yoro. Yoro town is itself a special place, famed for the purity of its waterfall, and the bizarre ‘Garden of Reversible Destiny’. So this special place is where I took Naomi for her birthday weekend.

We checked into the Ryokan and were greeted with traditional Japanese hospitality. Every detail was authentically preserved. We drank tea in our gracious rooms, with doors sliding out to the garden and pond below. Century’s old calligraphy and painted screens adorned our room.
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Red Leaves in Gifu Koen, on my birthday with Naomi

The seasons are incredibly defined in Japan and in autumn vibrantly so. The leaves change and the many Japanese maples stain bright red. It’s getting colder and winters coming, but not to worry, I’m escaping to NZ for my first Christmas at home for 3 years. I can’t wait – family, beaches, bbq’s, and I’m hoping, a Christmas ham.

I had another birthday the other week. I’ve now had 27 of them and thats quite enough. Naomi-chan swept me away for a wonderful birthday weekend full of surprises. I have the pleasure and stress of preparing her birthday this weekend. Mum, you know you never ask a woman her age

Nabana no Sato Illumination

The Japanese have been busy throwing up lights left, right and centre for ‘illumination’. Here Christmas is all about the lights. One such ‘Illumination’ Naomi and I visited at Nabana no Sato, a giant flower park with giant flowers (one type that looked a lot like Gobo Fraggle). There we walked through tunnels of fairy lights, while Nagoya station features illuminated teddy bears. I guess you’ve got to be here…

I had a run around at the Awaji soccer tournament down near Kobe last week. Our Gaijin team played four 40 minute games on the Saturday and won 3, lost 1. Those results saw us through to the quarter finals the next day, though 4 games in a single day also meant I could hardly walk. Tournament over for me, though we lost the next game anyway. Still it was a great run around on REAL grass (a rarity in Japan) and was in fact the site that the England team used in preparation for the 2002 World Cup. It was good to get my goal scoring boots back on. Good lads there too.

Bears… Nagoya Station. Kawaii

My Japanese keeps coming along. My lesson this week involved going to the police station and reporting that my bike had been stolen. They understood me which was good, but my bike is still missing which obviously is not. In Japan, everyone has a ‘Hanko’ which is an individual’s stamp, rather than their signature. Funny thing is mine just says ROJYA in Katakana. The banks think its fine but the police didn’t. They wanted a complicated name in Kanji characters so I had to give up my fingerprints. I might change my name to Goku, or something ridiculous like ‘Dragons Flame’ (suggestions?), or I wonder if I could find the Kanji for the real meaning of my name: ‘famous with the spear’. I’ll take care not to use the Kanji for the slang ‘to Roger’. More about Roger’s here:
A few photos are in photolog>japan>autumn06

Kinkakuji Temple

It was great catching up with Eve and Nigel on their whirlwind stopover in Japan just a few weeks ago. Martin led them down from Tokyo to Kyoto where I met up with the old London crew.

Eve and Nigel had a real appetite to feast their senses on as much culture as they could handle. Though it was my second excursion to Kyoto there were many sites I also hadn’t laid eyes on. Kinkakuji was one of them, a glistening Zen temple coated in pure gold leaf. The garden setting too would have been idyllic but for the Saturday crowds. We walked Tetsugaku no michi, (or, Path of Philosophy) to Nanzen Ji temple, enjoyed its raked pebble gardens and drank macha tea on tatami mats in view of the temple waterfall – all very Zen.

Nanzen-ji Raked Gardens

Even come dusk we had more walking in us. We made our way to the fantastic Kiyomizu-Dera as dusk was settling. The temple, originally built in 798 (rebuilt in 1633), has a huge veranda supported by hundreds of pillars jutting out over the hillside. Just below visitors drink from the waterfall believed to have therapeutic properties.

We checked into our Ryokan room and soon made our way out for a sushi dinner in Gion, drinks downtown in some tiny bars where Eve had the Dutch courage to try out every word in her Japanese phrase book, rounded off by an inevitably messy Karaoke session.

Himeji

Ambitiously, (were they tripping?) the others had wanted to hit Nara and Himeji the next day. This obviously was never going to happen after a Karaoke-a-thon. When we were forced to rise at 10:30am we made our way to Toji temple with a packed lunch and mellowed out in the temple’s garden.

The plan to visit Himeji was still a go. I took the normal rapid train and left an hour earlier than the others on the Shinkansen (Bullet train). Himeji-jo , built in the 15th century and in original condition is famed as Japans most beautiful castle, and I have to agree. I took the winding walk up to the Inner Keep and chatted with an old Japanese gent in Japanese while I waited for the others. The peaceful setting was only disturbed by the frequent taped recordings – ‘Himeji is a Unesco world heritage site…please put your rubbish in the bin… smoking is prohibited…’ and so on. A sign at the entrance would’ve done.

The London 4

We met back up and removed our shoes and scaled the steep wooden steps inside Himeji’s Keep. We surveyed the grounds of the castle and looked back on a great weekend. Great seeing you Eve and Nigel, and Martin, I’ll get to Tokyo in the New Year

Himeji photos in the photolog>japan>himeji
Kyoto photos are only the 2 on this page, click to view larger (as with all my blog photos from now on

Kanou Matsuri, Bill, Rog, Andre

There are bigger festivals in Japan, but Kanou Matsuri is my hometown festival in Gifu. Bill-chan, resident Gaijin and friend, introduced me to his Japanese buddy and owner of a local Izakaya (drinking den). In this round-about way I found my way into the festival not just as a raving spectator, but as a full patched member of the Kanou Matsuri team. I met my new brotherhood early Saturday morning. Take-san was inebriated from the night before but was still genki. At Kanou Jinja (the Shinto Shrine and cause for which we were to march for) I changed into my Jika tabi frog shoes and black pixie outfit before being handed an honorary Hapi coat.

It was 10ish by now, and there was a buzz in the air. It might’ve just been that the first cups of cold sake were being passed around. I, of course, liberally joined in the ritual drinking. To begin with Bill, Andre and I were assigned a cart with sponsor’s lanterns to tow behind with main Dashi (float). It was slow progress through the streets. Comedy you might say. Our Dashi, a good few metres tall and fitted with a small troupe of musicians in the trunk, kept on getting snagged on the power lines that criss-cross the streets. You’d think that a ‘modern’ country like Japan could bury the eye sore and hazards of overhead power lines, but alas. So, we’d get snagged, and out would come the ‘line untanglers’, a crack team with bamboo poles fitted with a metal hook, to unsnag us from the most twisted tangles. Can anyone say DANGER?
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Obon is a Buddhist holiday to honour the departed spirits of ancestors. Its also a national holiday, which thanks to my new employer I could take advantage of. Naomi, Victoria, Miki and I had a little road trip planned. Friday’s evening air was a soupy 35 degrees. We had designs to leave that night to avoid highway congestion and to wake up the next morning with that holiday feeling.

We didn’t get out of Gifu so fast. We were hungry. Sekky’s diner served up some real boigers and Orio shakes. Then there was the 99yen shop stop for some kirakira (shiny things). And then the need was agreed for an Onsen. (Japanese natural baths). Clean as clean, we finally, we were on the road.

Furukawa lies somewhere plonk in the middle of Japan. We arrived at the log house of Kazuo and Naoko sometime about 3 and crawled into the tents they set up in the backyard. Kazuo and Naoko, Victoria’s friends from way back kindly put us up for a few days in their tranquil mountain hut. They’re a slightly older couple with great vitality who, though on holiday, couldn’t stop working. (kinda reminded me of my Oma and Opa.)
Behind the wooden shack in the corner of the yard sat a treasure, a traditional Japanese Goemon Buro. This style bathtub was named after Ishikawa Goemon, a Japanese Robin Hood who was boiled alive in it. As I soaked in it next morning rain pattered down drenching plans for a bbq. We ate ramen (Chinese noodles) down in the Furukawa town instead, and after, with the arrival of Erena (fun American/Japanese friend) we headed to Furukawa’s old town, the rain having stopped. We mossied in the old streets, paused for the carp, lingered in the temples and belted a heavy Okoshidaiko drum. Then we broke the peace with some antics and headed back to base.

Next day we checked out a waterfall with a ちょっ　とあぶない（dangerous） jumping spot but really we just hung out and demolished a bbq feed. Kazuo pulled out a pretty monstrous watermelon which we gratefully devoured. Watermelon, like all fruit in Japan is crazy expensive. That was a 50 buck watermelon.

We were really about saving our energy for the main even of the Obon Holiday. For the third weekend straight I donned my Yukatta and Naomi wore hers. Our quartet said our farewells to Furukawa and jumped back in the car headed for Gujo Hachiman. Gujo has a few claims to fame – it’s the home of all the mouth watering plastic food displayed in every restaurant window, and Bon Odori (bon dancing), where thousands dance all night in the traditional bon style. Eg .video here (not mine)

We powered up with some alcoholic beverages at a café on the river, overlooked by Gujo’s castle beaming with light. And then the dancing… harukoma, harukoma… not nightclub beats but entrancing rhythms that sweep you away with everyone else. The cool thing is anyone can pick up each dance in a few minutes.

It was thirsty work and the bugger was that all the vending machines were sold out of anything cold and wet. I smelt the work of the Yakuza. They organise the roadside stalls and bought out the machines to on-sell for twice the price.

Sometime around 3am we made tracks, but not home. We’d picked up another crew member, Takechan, Miki’s friend, who took over the wheel and drove us for a couple of hours up to Kanazawa City, on the coast of the Sea of Japan. It was 6:00am and we were some tired muppets in the back seat. But rather than get a hotel there was another option – Onsen complexes. That’s right, have an Onsen (natural baths remember) and sleep the night all for a cool NZ$10. Feeling pretty dosed we stumbled into this gaudy looking kirakira palace surrounded by alien oddness.

Upstairs in the communal area Japanese were zonked on airline chairs some sleeping where they fell, others drinking beer and watching movies on the flip out tvs on the chairs. Glass chandeliers hung in the hallways. We had to split up again for the baths (girls and boys). Tired and lost I fumbled around with the lockers and towels before just getting naked like every other Japanese body. The Onsen ritual must start with a shower and proper scrub (with a shave and teeth brush if you like) before even thinking about getting in to a bath. I passed by some glances surprised to see a Gaijin (foreigner). I’m not going to pass comment on the size of a japanese mans … there’s nothing to say. I strode into my first Onsen pool of pleasure surrounded by large flat screen TV’s replaying the days baseball. There are more than half a dozen different baths with jets and sprays or lavender smells, and to cap it all off there’s the freezing plunge pool. After I luckily I caught up with our Japanese friend Takechan who showed me the sleeping quarters. I found an empty bed in a row about 30 beds long. Time for a few hours wink…

…but only a few hours. This was a road trip and sleep is for pussies. The plunge pool woke me up next morning and together we set off to find a reputed sushi restaurant. Inside, the sushi ninjas made art while we excitedly pulled one dish after another from the conveyer belt, and ordered some specialties on top. Fatty Tuna, eel, oyster, and salmon sushi. Great breakfast, I’m sure you’d agree. Between us we ate 40 plates. We’d long stopped caring how much stuff cost. We’d all chipped in to a kitty, and kitty looked after us.

Kanazawa City is home to a 21st century art museum, which is probably more interesting for its architecture. The highlight of this little excursion was Victoria’s pink sequined cowboy hat that was doing the rounds. It had the unchecked power to turn its wearer into an instant porn star.

The hat came with us to kenrokuen regarded as one of Japans three most beautiful gardens. The garden dating from 1676 is a masterpiece of simplicity and peace. For the occasion I was again wearing my Yukatta and Naomi gave permission to a couple of Japanese girls who wanted their picture with this good looking Gaijin by the lake. We strolled around the 8500 odd trees, the largest with their branches propped by wooden supports to shape them and prevented damage from the weight of snow in winter. Lanterns stood timelessly in the sickle cut moss and carp meanered in the ponds. Japans oldest fountain oldest fountain is powered by the difference in height between 2 ponds.
It was getting late in the day and we weren’t sleeping in Kanazawa. Oh no, we were headed for the beach! BEACH! I hadn’t seen one of those since Waiheke Island in March and we were all pretty excited. And we were camping. Putting up a tent in the dark is always an enjoyable experience, particularly someone elses tent, on a poor excuse for a campsite. Most of our campsite couldn’t even be described as flatISH and there were even some constructed wooden platforms for people to erect a tent on! We fumbled with pegs, threw the thing up and then made preparations for a bbq. Actually Miki took the car and just bought a cheap charcoal burner. We cooked by candlelight, slapped a few mozies, got drunk and the 5 of us slept it off in a cosy four-man tent.

Naomi shook me up next morning, BEACH morning. Sand! Beach! We strolled down and was pretty underwhelmed. Chirihama beach was flat and narrow with a kind of dirty brown sand. Ugly beach hut cafes selling fast food stood at the back. But, hey, it was a beach and we took the plunge. The water was wet – just how it should be.

And then ITAI!! Pain shot through my back. I looked around: nothing. On the back of my shoulder blade Naomi checked out my perfect jellyfish kiss. All the tentacles of the transparent little bugger had stung me in a perfect circle. The pain dissipated and we weren’t deterred from enjoying the only beach we’d seen for a long time.
The pink hat made another appearance, we got some grub and we checked out some huge sandcastle sculptures on the shore. But with time moving on, we dragged down the tent early afternoon and headed off to…another Onsen. By this time I was suspecting that Naomi was actually born in an Onsen.

Returning home always feels like it takes forever. And it does when your stuck in traffic. We sung our little hearts out in the back seat to whatever came on the radio before we could hold our peepers open no longer. We fell asleep with mouths wide open.

*view photos in my Photolog: Japan > obon-holiday

Once again I’m reeling with catchup posts, so heres a bit of an August round up. Put it down to making the most of summer

I’m not adverse to summer’s heat if there’s a cool place to dip your feet. For about 6 weeks straight Naomi and I headed to the Nagara river to swim under the gaze of Gifu-castle atop Kinka mountain. We’d ride my bike out there, Naomi doubling on the back and laden with beach stuff. Occasionally we make an evening of it and spark up a BBQ and crack a few Asahi’s with friends. And then come night fall the cormorant fishing boats come drifting down the river.
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Sumo is the quintessential Japanese sport. So when I heard the big fellas were rolling into Nagoya I asked Naomi to see what she could do to nab some tickets. Its origins go back some 1500 years and recently it has benefited from a revival of interest, apparently because it’s fiercely competitive at the top right now. Tanoshikatta.

The best seats were little boxes with cushions to sit cross-legged on. I’m not the richest man in Japan so we sat back a bit but had a good view of the sacred clay Dohyo (ring) above which hangs a cabled Shinto shrine dangling coloured tassels representing the 4 seasons. The lower grade fighters whet our appetite for the real thing.
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