Epilogue, Plus Photos!

G'day, all. Steve here.

So, what further to say about the Fuji trip?

Just like last year, everyone in Japan was very nice to us, despite the language barrier and us being a pair of crass gaijin who were probably doing offensive things left and right and smelling bad to boot. As Bob mentioned below, we were never sure if the standard greeting we got when returning to the hotel in the evening ("Shower, please") was intended to mean A) "We apologize for our country's oppressively muggy summer heat; we invite you to refresh yourselves in our shower," or B) "You are gleaming with a filthy iridescent sheen; please for God's sake take a shower so our hotel can stop smelling like American armpits."

Alas, we will never know.

I have discovered a fresh affection for Japan's ubiquitous vending machines. Some had something called "milk tea," which I found to be a chilled, Earl-Grey-esque black tea with milk and sweetener. It couldn't hold a candle to a home-brewed afternoon tea with Kelsey and a scone (yes, I am an irretrievable ponce!), but it wasn't at all bad and kept my caffeine habit satisfied. Well done, Japanese beverage industry.

And while on the subject of comestibles, we're still not quite sure what constitutes a traditional Japanese breakfast, as we usually did our fast-breaking at Gasuto, a Denny's-ish chain with mostly Western food on their morning menu. (I shall miss their ridiculously huge and fat slices of toast.) We could have tried the eel place we passed every day, but eel for breakfast sounded just a little too...eely.

Quick detour: I congratulate that mysterious figure who first ushered the word "eel" into the English language. I can think of no human utterance more evocative of a slithery, oily, cave-dwelling fish. Though for an especially oily one, I could see adding more E's. Say it with me now: Eeeeeeel.

And hey, speaking of English (funny how these segues work out), I was again surprised by how much English you see in Japan. It really is everywhere, despite the fact that the number of English-fluent Japanese doesn't seem to be all that big. Lots of signs show Roman characters, often more prominent than -- if not completely excluding -- Japanese characters. Just seemed odd. But hurrah for Japan, I suppose, for this worldliness and welcoming demeanor towards Westerners. Must be strange and perhaps a little annoying, being a country known for great art, beauty, and refinement and thus attracting thousands of visitors who don't speak a word of your language.

But this pair of Westerners did make the effort. Our language skills were slightly better than last time, and though we exchanged many a blank stare with the locals, I think the effort was appreciated.

On the other hand, what the mountain goddess thought of us...I guess that's another thing we'll never know. Though we didn't technically reach the summit (and in fact, a lot of people don't; even after arriving at Station 10, you have to hike around to the far side of Fuji's crater to reach its official highest point), I'm still counting the trip a success. We've seen the entirety of the Yoshida trail and we couldn't have asked for finer weather, so I'd say our omamori and many respects paid to Konohanasakuya were well worth the effort.

And on that note, I think it's time for some pictures.



Before we had adjusted to Japan time, we were waking up around 4:30 or 5:00 each morning. Here's the sunrise from our Narita hotel room.



How can you not take a picture of WonderGOO? And just what sort of store is WonderGOO? Tell you what: Get your guesses ready, and no fair googling it. (Adam, I'm looking at you.) I'll look it up and the answer will be below, after the pictures.



Some vagrant in front of the cartoony Fuji train that, alas, we did not get to take from Otsuki to Kawaguchiko. He smelled of octopus, so we kicked him till he ran away.



The shrine to Konohanasakuya in Fujiyoshida. Behind the big red torii is (if I'm remembering rightly) the main shrine building, where we paid respects to the kami and bought our kongo-zue and omamori.



Still at the shrine. Thought this would make a cool shot, but I have no idea what these are. Names of big donors to the shrine? Names of the succession of priests? Commemorations of the shrine's spaghetti dinner fundraisers?



And here's one of our kongo-zue, pre-climb. The orange-colored stamp at the bottom was done specially by the shrine attendants. An artful shot, I think, but honestly we only took this one so we could remember how to re-wrap the tassel after it got all disheveled during the climb.



Some public art in Kawaguchiko. Chicken on a cat on a dog on a donkey. I'm sure this means something, but damned if I know what.



And so the climb begins at our beloved Station 5. That's Fuji in the upper-left. Note the horses, which I guess you can rent for riding a little ways up the mountain. Probably not all the way to the peak; I don't think horses could have navigated some of the trails we went up. But apparently the first guy to reach Fuji's summit did so on a horse, so maybe I underestimate them.



Somewhere between Stations 5 and 6. That thing around Bob's neck is his omamori. Note that the mountain still has trees at this altitude. Also note the battalions of little kids. Thankfully, they turned back at Station 7.



Tassel shrine! This is between Stations 6 and 7, where I guess it's customary to leave the belled tassels from your kongo-zue. We did not leave ours. Not sure who the stone image is. The sword makes me think Manjushri, the bodhisattva of wisdom, but can't say for sure.



One of the views from between Stations 6 and 7. That thing in the foreground is a retaining wall. Presumably it keeps the mountain from swallowing up the interminable switchbacks.



Somewhere in the Station 7 range, I think. No more trees. Just some scrubby bushes, including Japanese knotweed, which was nice to see in its native land. In the Pacific Northwest, it's an invasive pest.



Torii in the mist (starring Sigourney Weaver). At the Fuji Visitor Center, the educational video claims that when you start seeing torii, you're nearing the summit. LIES! There are lots of these things between Station 7 and the summit, and that's no quick jaunt.



Fuji rocks!



Ah, sweet oxygen. Tastes of propellant! But do note the many brands we'd collected on our sticks.



View from...somewhere in the Station 8 range, I think. Yup, it's high.



One of the last photos I took on the mountain, just before we began our descent in the dark. From the angle of the light, you can tell the sun is setting on the far side of the mountain.



Here's us post-Fuji, with our well-branded kongo-zue. With aching legs and disintegrating feet, we smile through the agony.

And that's a good one to end on, I think. And for those waiting anxiously for an answer to the WonderGOO question: It appears to be a books-and-movies place, maybe kinda like a Borders. I, for one, am deeply disappointed. I expected more from such an evocative name.

Everyone take care of yourselves, and to all a good night.

Bob's Closing Thoughts

Bob here, with some final thoughts on this trip.

Japan was a delight. It was very green and growing. Peaches, strawberries, and concord-type grapes were available at local fruit stands. Our hotel had a manicured garden, as well as a vegetable garden. When I walked early, many people would be out trimming their gardens.

The people were the best part, of course. Everyone was very nice to us, and I think we connected positively with some of the people at the places we frequented. My Japanese got a little better, but Steve, along with much more Japanese, knew enough katakana to read many signs and menus. My one attempt to talk to the father (?) at the hotel about the weather in Japanese was strictly from "Fawlty Towers". After that, he and I stuck to "Good Morning" and discussions about the shower, although I never discovered if he was offering me the shower or requesting me to use the shower.

A short walk up a side street near our hotel led to a small garden that had a view of Fuji-san and a machine that sold chilled grapefruit juice. This was where I spent my dawns, sipping juice and watching the rising sun on the summit.

Our hoteru and Hiro-san, our host, made our stay a lot more personal than K's House -- we were guests in a family hotel. We missed the kitchen, and I missed hot water to wash and shave in (although showers were hot). But their front door was never locked (in fact it didn't have a lock).

Final Fuji thoughts:

Along with the amazing cloud views, the sights on the mountain that impressed me most were the flowing clouds and the steep slopes. The wind was blowing up the slopes, so, periodically a river of cloud would be swept in a stream up the slope. The mountain surface was so rugged, with lava and pumice, and the clouds were so diaphanous, it was just beautiful and amazing. More than once on the upper slopes, I would focus on the surrounding steeply-sloping lava flows, and feel I was falling off the mountain. Better than a good thrill ride. As the sun got lower, we were able to watch the shadow of the mountain on the clouds and land stretch until darkness.

The walk down Fuji-san was perfect and painful. (Think of a beautiful night on the slopes of Mt. Doom.) It was warm, we had a near-full moon for most of it, and could watch the surrounding city lights grow and become distinct as we descended. It was quiet -- Steve mentioned the lightning. It was strange when the first vegetation started appearing again. My freebie Harbor Freight flashlight worked all the way down. But every step was painful -- especially stair steps. We went past several tunnels with signs that said "Use tunnel. Danger of falling rocks." I took the trail beside the tunnel, taking my chances because the tunnel had steps. It was several days before I could climb the steep stairs to our room without wincing.

Well, I didn't do what I set out to do, but I'm thinking this is one of the "Man plans, God laughs" situations. There are certainly few things I would trade for the experience. I learned some things about myself, saw some strengths in Steve that I hadn't seen yet, and had an awesome climb. I wouldn't have gotten as far as I did without Steve -- he really was the pack mule on the mountain, with his large pack. My only hard lesson was giving up (however briefly) before walking under the final torii. But that pales in comparison to the beauty, grace, and grandeur I experienced at this place. Yes, it is a holy place, although I didn't make it to the shrine at the top. I'm positive enough to think that there's a reason for this...

Well, today is the last day of my sixtieth year (60 in Japan is a year of new life as I understand it). Fuji-san was a fitting end for the year.

Farewell to Kawaguchiko

And so our final day in Kawaguchiko comes to a close. Station 5 was a madhouse this morning, absolutely crammed with people, but we got our final bits of shopping done and were back around lunchtime.

Did not do the onsen thing, as neither of us seemed to have the required energy nor inclination. Besides, it was a terribly hot day to spend soaking in a hot bath. So instead, we watched wacky Japanese TV, which included Pokemon (which you really haven't experienced until you've heard it in the original Queen's Japanese), and footage of karate tests where teenagers hit one another repeatedly and break bits of wood. Keeps them off the streets, I suppose.

Oh, and Hiro, our guesthouse proprietor, took a photo of us before dinner this evening. Apparently we're going to be featured on his website in the near future. Let's all hope he was talking about the hotel website, not some shady side-project of his....

And tomorrow is the trip home! Going to be a very long day, but it'll be lovely to be in Oregon once more. Everyone take care of yourselves, and we'll do our best to stop the flight attendants from tossing us into the Pacific. Cheers!

Last Day in Kawaguchiko

We did indeed do the insane shopping center yesterday. It felt like a department store, like a Macy's, except it was more tall than wide. Three or four stories, and they sold all manner of things: clothing, groceries, fast food, kitchen wares, stationary, ceramics, etc. Plus, near the escalator where there's a big open vertical space between the floor of the first storey and the ceiling of the third, there's a trampoline with bungie cords attached, so you can bounce the entire height of the building. Neither of us indulged. After the climb, landing on a trampoline from a three-storey height sounded like a femur-splinteringly bad idea.

So we bought some gifts and got lunch at the ubiquitous Mos Burger, then hopped a taxi to the one shrine of Konohanasakuya -- our dear mountain goddess -- that we hadn't visited yet. Not as awesome as the one in Fujiyoshida, but very pretty, plus it had a mini-shrine to some sort of holy horse and lots of huge cedars with ropes tied elegantly around them. Not sure what it means, but it looks nice. We also took a moment to scare the koi in the pond. Smug scaly bastards.

By then, the weather had mercifully clouded up, so the walk home over the Ohashi bridge was sort of cool and pleasant (i.e., not at all in the usual manner of summertime Kawaguchiko). Curiously enough, the word "ohashi" means chopsticks, so I dunno if they named the bridge after an eating utensil or if the word has another, more stately meaning. Bob has renamed the bridge "Spider Bridge," because he went walking on it late one night and found that at least every three feet or so, a hefty-size spider had built a web in the railing. I guess the lake water below plus the bridge-lights above equals lots of juicy nighttime insects.

So today is our final full day in dear Kawaguchiko. We're off to Station 5 again to buy some gifts and souveniers, and perhaps to throw a baleful glare up at the mountain. It's still early here, about 8:30 AM, so we'll have time this afternoon as well. Our guesthouse has given us a coupon to a local onsen, so we'll see if we're feeling brave enough for that. Onsens are supposed to be relaxing, but I admit they don't really sound that way to me. If you don't know whan an onsen is, I'll let you find out on Wikipedia.

Tomorrow, it's off to Tokyo Station, then to Narita, then to San Francisco, then home!

Post-Fuji Doings

Hey all. Steve here again.

For what it's worth, I'm not counting the climb as a failure. We saw the entire hike and could hardly have expected to be unaffected by that kind of fatigue and altitude. We made our very best effort and I'm calling that a success.

So aside from Fuji, one might wonder what Kawaguchiko has to offer. Answer: the Retro Bus! And the name is not purely some Japanese eccentricity. It does look rather retro. Think of a small bus, then put a vaguely Model-T-style front on it, and there you have it. It runs a route around Lake Kawaguchiko, stopping at various tourist destinations like parks and museums. But those sounded much too culturally enriching for us, so we decided on...

...the Kawaguchiko Ropeway! This is a sky-tram that takes you on a cable up into the hills around Kawaguchiko, surrounded by images of the facility's cartoony mascots: a rabbit and (I think) a fox. Looked sort of like a raccoon, but they don't have those here, so I'm going with fox. Couldn't read any of the dialogue in their speech bubbles, but I got the impression that these characters are outdoorsy types, into hiking and all that, but prone to mishap. At the top of the Ropeway, there's a big fiberglass statue of the fox lying on his belly, wailing in pain with big tears oozing from one eye, while the rabbit perches on top of him, applying some sort of balm to a wound on his back. Ah, family fun! There were also hiking trails at the top, but we weren't really into that after the Fuji climb. So we settled for some vending machine ice cream and took the tram back down.

After that, we visited the Fuji Visitor Center. (Note the cunning verb/object correspondence in that last sentence. I was an English major, you know!) The Visitor Center had a little mini-museum with lots of little facts about the mountain, most of which I don't remember now. I do recall that women weren't allowed on the mountain until 1800-something, so you women-folk who didn't want to come with us have missed an opportunity to strike a blow for sexual equality. What else...Japanese Buddhist monks once climbed Fuji as part of their training; some did it hundreds of times, for which I do not envy them. The first foreigner to climb Fuji was an Englishman of some variety. Speaking of which, when you press the "English" button to view a little edu-tainment video in English, the narrator always has a posh English accent. Makes the mountain sound terribly erudite.

So that more-or-less brings us to today. We might do the insane shopping center, just to have that experience. There's also one remaining shrine to the mountain goddess that we haven't visited yet, up in northern Kawaguchiko. Should probably go there and pay respects one last time, thank her for getting us off the mountain alive. Not sure what else we'll keep busy with. Got today and tomorrow, and then we begin the trip home!

I Have Seen The Top

Well, I got within a hundred yards of the top- I could see the torii gate at the rim. Just one minor health issue and we had someone coming down from the top yelling "iyee" (NO) and "GO DOWN". When I told him I was OK and wanted to do the last few yards, he shouted "NO" and started waving his arms. I begged Steve to go to the top (5 minutes away for him) and not miss the opportunity, but he wouldn`t leave me. I just couldn`t be angry at such fierce loyalty. Plus, in the confusion and near darkness, we left a small walking stick we had painstakingly branded for Adam.
I don`t mind failing so much again; I`ve always aimed high in the game of bringing ideas into being. I expect to be slapped in the face by reality now and again. But I HATE failing my sons.
I guess I do know that I would have made the top had I not been stopped from doing so. That`ll have to do, because I don`t want to do it again. And, I`ve seen the entire stretch.

"Mountaineering possibly not for us," Oregon tourists muse

So! Here's how Fuji went.

Started at Station 5 about halfway up the mountain, as is the most common way to do this. (After doing the insane hike just from Station 5, I realize that doing the hike from the base of Fuji, as we had thought about doing last year, would be sheer lunacy.) We had our spiffy new kongo-zue (hiking sticks) from one of the mountain goddess's shrines, complete with omamori (charms for climbing safety). And so it began pleasantly enough. The first leg of the hike is mostly wooded. Lots of...trees that I don't know the names of. Definitely trees, though. They had leaves and everything.

Then around Station 6 -- which is really just a small shelter next to some port-o-johns -- the trees thin out into scattered scrub. After Station 6 comes an endless series of switchbacks leading to Station 7.

Now, I admit up front that I'm viewing this with a foreigner's ignorance, but here's my first beef with Fuji. No, actually my first beef with Mount Fuji is that the damn thing is uphill, which is really tiring. So I suppose my second beef is this: The numbered stations are not single structures, or even complexes. For example, you reach Station 7 and get your hiking stick branded (hurrah!) and then you keep hiking and after awhile, you see another structure coming up above, and you think, "Oh! That must be Station 8. What fine progress I'm making!" That's what you think, Mr. or Ms. Ingorant Foreign Person. Turns out the next structure is still Station 7, just a different hut of Station 7 where you can get another brand (hurrah?). And then you hike more interminable switchbacks, and there's yet another hut of Station 7 (another brand, whee; these brands all cost money, of course). And after about twelve Station 7 buildings and roughly nine hundred switchbacks, you finally reach Station 8. Which does the same thing. And when you're frantically peering ahead for Station 9, desperate for the mountain to give you some indication that you're making progress, you get a lovely prank straight out of Harry Potter: Station 8.5. That's hilarious, you impish trail-builders you!

Thankfully, Station 9 -- when you finally get there on your disintegrating feet -- takes the opposite approach. Instead of an endless series of huts, Station 9 is a single shack, looking fairly disused. Probably where they keep their tax forms or something.

And so it was that we were past Station 9, within sight of the orange torii gate of Station 10 -- the summit at last! -- when Bob was struck with altitude sickness. I ran ahead and got help, and though Bob started feeling better enough to continue, the summit guys I'd alerted were adamant that we head back down the mountain. Just a few hundred feet from the summit, and we had to turn back.

Now here's the fun bit: The sun had set by now, so we were now hiking down the mountain in the dark. Hadn't expected to use those flashlights, but thank God we brought them! The way down offered horrible footing and was utter hell on my knees, but to be fair, it was quiet and pretty, complete with far-away flashes of lightning that lit up the clouds. Never heard any thunder from them, so the storms must have been very far away. Perhaps we wouldn't have seen them at all, had we not been up above the clouds.

Though speaking of clouds, that might be the visual that really sticks with me from this trip. During the ascent, when it was still daylight, Bob pointed out a massive cloud formation behind us. It was one of those giant puffy clouds that it's easy to find shapes in, and we were neither below it nor above it. Being at eye-level with something that vast is...difficult to describe. Humbling, I suppose, especially when one's brain picks out the shape of an enormous Asian dragon's head looking at you, and this head is too big to fit into a camera frame. Had to split it into two frames, which I'm sure will utterly fail to capture the frightening majesty of the image.

So that, in a nutshell, is our courageous story. I'll close with a kindly word of advice to anyone walking at night with a headlamp: Please for God's sake don't turn your whole head towards someone walking towards you, 'cause it shoots your light straight into that person's eyes and that's really annoying.

Wisdom for the ages, I think. I hope to see it on a coin one day.

So now we've got three days to kill in Kawaguchiko. I'll let you know how that goes. Our very best to everyone, and we'll see you next post.

We're Fine

Apologies for the delayed post. Climbing Fuji took longer than we'd anticipated, so we didn't get back till after midnight last night, with nowhere to get an internet connection. Those who were worrying can stop now.

So we've got some sunburns, some bumps and scrapes, and serious soreness, but are otherwise fine. I'll write more when we've got more time and my creative brain is working a little better. I'm still a little slow from the savaging my body took yesterday. (Sixteen hours of walking with a heavy pack, anyone?)

Live From Kawaguchiko Station!

So in about 20 minutes we're taking the bus up to Station 5 on Fuji-san, not for the climb but just to try acclimating to the altitude for a couple of hours.

That's been today's theme: preparing for the climb tomorrow. We've visited two shrines and a temple today, and have paid respects to all the kami we can find, including the mountain goddess. (And a bull-god too; they probably don't get enough respect these days, the animal gods.) Also bought new sticks and got them stamped with the special red shrine stamp, so that's cool. We also bought jingly climbing charms, so we're about as in the goddess's good graces as we can get.

That's about all our news, really. Got breakfast at Gasuto (the Japanese Denny's, more-or-less) and lunch at the beloved Kawaguchiko Station. Ah, udon! With horsemeat, no less!

Okay -- haven't got time to think up a lot of humor in this one, clearly, and the timer at the top of the screen telling me how much time I've got at this train station computer is making me nervous. So we'll sign off. For all those worried about us on the mountain tomorrow, we're doing our utmost to prepare as best we can.

Until next time, when we shall type in glory.

Riding the Rails of Rigamarole

Kombanwa, everyone. So nice of you to join us once again.

So the train-trip to Kawaguchiko was not as quick nor as simple as we'd anticipated. Had to catch two different trains from Tokyo to Otsuki with a three-hour pause between them in Takao, a city we'd never heard of. Still have no idea where it actually is. And, perhaps in retribution for my petulance in last night's post, we did not get to ride in the train with the cartoony Fujis painted on the side. We did see such a train up close, but it wasn't in service and the train we rode in was much less interesting. All in all, we spent about eight hours in transit, finally arriving at our Kawaguchiko hotel around 5 pm.

But I'm not a bit sorry, and I'll tell you why: Inside JR trains, next to the monitor display showing what your next stop is, you get to see a cycle of silent advertisements. Today's long hours in trains got us very familiar with these ads, and some were classic indeed. I'll recount my two favorites.

Ad #1: You will all be glad to hear that vermiculture is alive and well in Japan. These people have such affection for their worm poop that large amounts of yen are exchanged to feature it in commercials! I don't actually know what the ad was for exactly, but one scene will stick in my mind for some time. Picture, if you will, a cartoon worm with a wide smile and big, almost kittenish eyes. Couldn't be prouder of his profession, this worm. Then he eats some cartoon fruit, a bulge works its way significantly down his body, and what should emerge at the far end? Not just your average waste, but cartoony, Dairy-Queen style mounds with little smiley faces on them. As patriots, we should all be asking ourselves: Why don't American worms poop like that? Do think about it and write your congresspeople with your ideas.

Ad #2: Couldn't tell if this one was a food commercial or a public service message. We got a series of photos of plates of food, and a cartoon...thing was talking in speech bubbles and writhing all over the food. He was an oblong white thing with stringy bits at either end, plus a charming, smiling face. Could have been a bean-sprout, could have been a flagellum-wielding food parasite. But his grinning cartoon face (a face that made him look like he could easily be a sidekick for Hello Kitty) makes me think bean-sprout, as if he was writhing over all the food to suggest, "Look at all these meat dishes I adore! Wouldn't they be improved by me, the tasty bean-sprout? Bring home some sprouts today!" And at the end of the commercial, after he's won you over with his friendly writhing display, he's tossed into a hot frying pan. He spasms in agony and falls still. The end.

See the cultural enrichment you're all missing out on?

Speaking of culture and the enrichment thereof, I got initiated into the Japanese tradition of noodle-slurping today in a little udon shop on the train platform in Takao. Here's how it worked: I put money into a vending machine and selected a kind of udon (went with the plain kind, it being the only one I could both recognize and pronounce). The machine then spat out a ticket, which I brought inside and handed to the udon guys. In about 45 seconds, they handed me my bowl of udon, which I ate standing up at a counter next to other guys eating their udon. And they were all in an enormous hurry, or so it seemed from all the frantic slurping. So, being in Rome (so to speak), I too slurped away and managed to snork down my udon without burning myself and only spattering my shirt a little.

So 'twas, with one shirt clean and one bespattered, we arrived in Kawaguchiko and found our hotel. The innkeeper greeted us by name out front, and told us his name (which you fans of the TV series Heroes or the novel Snow Crash will appreciate): Hiro. He showed us to our room and other accomodations, talked us through the routines and perks of staying here, and has lent me the laptop on which I'm now writing this post. Given this, we might not be able to post daily updates while here. Don't want to trouble him for this laptop every day. But we'll definitely write a post soon after we get off the mountain in a couple of days to tell y'all how it went.

So it's now Wednesday night, and the tentative plan is: Do some walking around tomorrow, making sure to visit at least one shrine to Konohanasakuya, the goddess of Fuji, and pay our respects. Then probably attempt the hike on Friday. If anyone else feels like putting in a good word for us with Konohanasakuya before then, that would not go amiss. Understand that we're not worried. But we could do with better luck than we had last year.

Everyone take care of yourselves, and we'll see you next post.

The Fungus of Immortality and Vigorous Crotch Gestures

Now I should point out that those are two separate phrases. The Fungus of Immortality is the fungus of just immortality. It's not the fungus of immortality and vigorous crotch gestures. Just so we're all clear on that.

So San Francisco's Asian Art Museum has installed a mini-exhibit of Chinese ceramics in the SFO United concourse, which is rather a nice departure from the oft-questionable styles of airport decor. As Bob and I learned while killing time before our flight to Narita, a certain era of Chinese ceramics held the Fungus of Immortality in high regard as an artistic motif. I can only assume its name has lost a bit of mystique along the route of translation into English, but I feel it still retains a certain pizazz. I do hope one day to see the name "Fungus of Immortality" in the lineup at the Kentucky Derby or something. Because, y'know: Awesome.

But yes, we landed safely in Narita, got through customs and reclaimed our baggage without incident, and are safely checked into our hotel. Even got a decent dinner at a ramen place recommended by the girl who brought our bags up to our room. I had ramen, while Bob had yakitori and enough hot sake to make him...exuberant. Though the restaurant had at least one patron more drunk than he.

Which brings me to the second part of this post's title. So this drunken guy -- not creepy or threatening, just drunk -- starts chatting with us a little, using English about as rudimentary as my Japanese. Bob carefully recites a phrase he's been waiting to use ("This is my son"), and this man's response was to strike the pose of a sumo wrestler and then make vigorous, yet somehow stately, gestures toward his own crotch. My best guess is that he was complimenting Bob on his fertility.

But the meaning of the crotch gestures isn't entirely important, is it? The real thing, I feel, is the simple fact that this man had the bravado to make vigorous crotch gestures to people whose language he did not speak, thus having no way to explain himself. I know if I were making vigorous crotch gestures at some tourists from, I dunno, let's say Laos, I would be nervously explaining the whole time, just so they knew I wasn't just some pelvic degenerate, and that I was really making a statement here that was well worth their time and future contemplation. But this man clearly felt secure that his statement stood on its own. To show so much and tell so little takes faith and guts, and I salute you, random drunken Narita ramen-shop guy, for your abundance of both.

But enough of the finer things. Plan for tomorrow: Catch a hotel shuttle to either Shinjuku Station or perhaps Tokyo Station, get a train to Otsuki (I think), and from there we can ride the official Fuji train, which has cartoony Fujis painted on the side. Not that we'll be able to see those painted Fujis from the inside of the train. I bet there's something even cooler on the inside, and I just might not tell you what it is. Because I haven't slept in a long time and I'm feeling tired and petulant.

Therefore, I'm off to bed. Thanks for reading, and to all a good night.

FujiQuest II: Preliminary Checks

G'day, all. Steve here, less than two days before we return to Japan to attempt another ascent of Fuji-san. Just doing a test post to make sure I'll be able to post to this thing while in Japan. Adam's given me a quick primer on pressing these here buttons, which makes letters appear on the screen. And assembling said letters into "words" seems to be going well so far. I think I can even invent some new ones: Flathing. Uldamberage. Nurp.

Lookin' good!