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.
