Guiding and Guarding a "Normal" Person Up Mt. Fuji, Around Japan
Again I found myself stuck on Mt. Fuji with no food, place to stay, or way to leave. The difference this time was that I was guiding someone else up. He was a friend of mine, and he had no business being there considering how out of shape and inexperienced he was. However, he had counted on me to get him up , and I wasn't going to fail by allowing him to fail! Since he's an extremely sweet and simple individual with no firmness to his resolve or constitution, let's call him “Pudding”.
Pudding had always wanted to go to Japan but had never gone. He knew little of the culture and nothing of the language, but still possessed a deep fascination with the land of the rising sun. His girlfriend also had an interest in Japan and was equally clueless about its intricacies. Since they were living together and talking of marriage I said I would guide them around Japan as their wedding gift. They loved the idea and put the trip in their “someday” pile until the day my friend woke up, decided it wasn't working out, and ended the relationship. All his friends rejoiced. Some time passed, and Pudding approached me: “Can you still guide me around Japan, even though it's just the two of us?” Of course! In fact, I preferred it that way. I told him if he wanted to see current Japan before it's changed forever, we'd need to get there before the 2020 Tokyo Olympics. We set a goal to travel the following summer.
Summer arrived and I returned to the states from South America to grab my buddy, make final preparations, and get back to Japan. I had carefully budgeted my funds in South America, tracking my spending closely. I knew very well how much I should have in the bank; exactly enough for the Japan tour guide gift. Once I got to the lower 48 I went to the bank to check my books against theirs. Half my money was gone! I requested detailed files in order to figure out what was going on. Identity theft? Am I terrible at basic math? No. The bank, through the magic of multiple, unknown to me, overlapping fees, had seen fit to take half my account. Once I figured this out I decided to try and get some of it back. First, I researched other banks in the area. Of the 12 different banks in a 3 mile radius, none of them had those fees. Armed with this knowledge I went into the bank, arranged a meeting, and presented my findings and a one-time request of just half the money back that they took without my knowing. They did not give a shit. At all. They didn't budge a bit, so I promptly closed my account and took what remained of my money so they couldn't steal what was left. I then made arrangements and fall backs for money so that I could uphold my end of the promise to guide my friend to the best possible Japan trip he could have. I borrowed money from everywhere, ironically including Pudding himself.
In order to save money we were flying from Chicago directly, so we needed to road trip a few hours to my friend's parent's house in the area. We would sleep the night there, then fly out in the morning. Even though I had coached Pudding on what to pack and briefed him repeatedly on the time table, my friend still waited until after a full day of work, the day we were to leave, to pack. This pushed our departure back about an hour. Five minutes before my friend arrived to pick me up, my watch died. The watch that was only a few months old. Of course. The watch would be a necessary implement in keeping my fiend on track; we could not due without it. Now we needed to make a detour to wal-mart, which neither of us was happy about. The selection was glossy garbage, and the prices were awful. With no other options I chose one and we left. The supply run took longer than I would have liked, and we were now set back another hour. Now we wanted food but everything was closed. We drove around looking for whatever may have something vaguely healthy. After way too long a KFC is all we could find, and neither of us knew the menu or protocol. They were out of everything on the menu anyway, so we panicked and ordered two buckets of whatever they had. It was expensive and gross. We ate the chicken scraps and felt ill. My friend got immediate diarrhea. We were 0-2 on the trip, hours behind, and had barely started! The rest of the drive went without incident. After a nap at Pudding's parent's we left for the airport.
The security at the Chicago airport was refreshingly lax, but the airline we had tickets for wasn't exactly running a tight ship either. They were the cheapest discount airline from China. When buying the tickets we actually got a warning message that they couldn't actually confirm the flight times, prices, or availability for a week. The price was worth rolling the dice. My friend was nervous, so we got insurance just in case. He had only ever traveled overseas once before, to Ireland almost a decade prior, so he wanted to sit together in case he had questions and such. Seemed fair: I was supposed to be his guide and lookout after all. We spent more money to choose our seats, mine picked for highest statistical survive-ability in a crash and ability to deal with my child-like bladder. On check-in at the airport we didn't even have the seats we bought! Wasted money. We did get to sit together at least. I suppose that's what happens when you gamble on a cut-rate Chinese airline. That and a massive layover in China.
After a 15 hour flight my friend and I had a 20 hour layover in Shanghai. I reasoned that half a decade a and a new passport would be enough to get off the Chinese “watch” list, but I was wrong. Once we got to border control I was immediately pulled aside and my passport taken for “further research”. I asked to to the toilet. Denied! I was under scrutiny for what seemed like ages, but it may have only been 30 minutes. The whole time I wondered if they were going to break my passport again, and if we could claim our luggage in time before someone else did. Pudding didn't know what was going on, so he just waited. I warned him that his might happen, so he knew the risks. Once I was “cleared” we made for the baggage area. We couldn't fin dour things. Eventually they turned up in an unguarded pile on the floor. At least they were there. Even though we had the better part of a day to tour Shanghai it was late at night when we arrived and my buddy said he wanted to just recharge in the airport. At least all the security shenanigans ate up several hours of our layover. We stayed in the airport the whole time before checking back in to leave for Tokyo. I was flagged, of course, and was escorted to a special room where my luggage was searched for contraband and explosives. I was psyched to leave China. Finally cleared, we flew to Japan.
Once we'd left the airport and arrived in Tokyo proper we discovered the AirBnB that we had booked had an incomplete address. Pudding's phone had no service, and I don't have one at all. Addresses in Japan are non-sequitur madness, and even the locals need to stop and ask natives of a neighborhood for directions. We asked several people for directions, each one giving us nearly opposite advice. This resulted in an extra 2 hours of us lugging our things around, while my perpetually sweaty companion became progressively sweatier. Finally I spotted a bike cop and received very confident directions to the place. We made it.
The AirBnB was really more of a low end hostel. It was the cheapest, but that comes at a price. There where about 20 people crammed in a dirty room for sleeping. The people were loud. The snoring I could tolerate, but a lot of the people moaned loudly in their sleep. It was like trying to sleep through a ghost orgy! The place seemed like a collection of long-stay smelly maladjusted weirdos, both foreign and Japanese. Some of the people smelled dead, and others would walk around with an electric shaver shaving their faces everywhere while getting their stubble on everything. There was what looked like a year's worth of used disposable razors in a pile next to the sink. People would leave their shoes wherever and eat in the sleeping area even though you weren't' supposed to because the rotting food attracted unwanted visitors. That's how you get ants! My friend was kept awake in his bunk by mosquitoes. I woke up in bed once to find on my shin a cockroach the size of a mouse. They also had black and white zebra striped jumping spiders. Then there was the constant sound of what seemed to be someone ferociously masturbating. It sounded like someone slapping an open bucket of mayonnaise like they were playing bongo drums, and it almost never stopped. Not the best place I've ever stayed, but not the worst wither. The people that weren't disgusting were good company and the rooftop was perfect for my workouts.
After getting settled we left for celebratory drinks in Kabukicho, the Yakuza district. I figured it would make a good first impression. The place is notorious for it's neon lights and iconic gate contrasting the night sky, punctuated with the smells of barbecue and alcohol. The hustle of parties and the buzz in the air of not-so-legal entertainment were palpable. He liked all that, but his major first impression was being overwhelmed by Nigerian prostitute touts. Pudding is a sensitive soul. He worries about offending people, so he has a tough time dealing with people in general, salesman and touts in particular. The Nigerian Kabukicho touts are known to be a particularly aggressive breed. By his own admission my friend seizes up when he can't properly communicate with someone i.e. all the time. He says he can only do one thing at a time, literally, so he has a tough time in foreign environments. He says if he learns something, and he doesn't think he'll need it again, he forgets it immediately. On top of that he's physically fragile. He injures easily and severely, has terrible allergies, and can't handle spicy foods. In short, I wasn't just guide, I was guard. I wasn't going to let anything bad happen to my buddy. He's a super nice guy but he's prone to getting hustled. Once I realized he couldn't get through to the touts I jumped in and became his permanent buffer. I was in charge of field operations, navigation, communication, planning, AND security.
At first I didn't realize just how much I should have taken over for the planning. Before we left for Tokyo, Pudding said he had an idea of some things he wanted to do, but he just wanted to wing everything. I took him at his word that he was capable of improvisation on that scale. He is not. That kind of improv requires being able to process WAY more than one thing at a time. After the first night I figured it out and course corrected hard. I would not let him fail to accomplish his list or let indecisive procrastination cause all the time in his vacation to slip away. Finite time with a list of things to experience meant the need to prepare. He told me that it takes him 3 hours to wake up in the morning, and that's after getting up no earlier than 9. I couldn't let him sleep that late in Japan everyday and then slog about for hours, or he would accomplish only a small fraction of his goals. Whether due to social anxiety, poor planning, unfamiliarity with the environment, or chronic exhaustion, Pudding would only accomplish about 10 percent of what he wanted without me. He would probably wind up sleeping too late, be too tired, lethargic, and confused to get anything done. Without direction he would resort to polling other aimless tourists on the internet and wasting an insane amount of time. He could rest easy though, because I was taking the reigns. Since I was the only one that could speak or read and had experience in the area, he wisely defaulted to me for everything. The next morning we hit the ground running, crossing off items from his list.
We went back to Kabukicho, in the daylight this time, and strolled around casually through Shinjuku. He regularly tried new foods, never finding one he didn't like. Since he has an interest in martial arts, we went to ISAMI, the famous martial arts store. The place he really wanted to go though, was Akihabara. Akihabara is the infamous geek-mecca for Japanese video games and animation. There are model kits, figurines, games, people dressed up, and niche video game arcades. He even got hooked on crane games, pun intended, and addicted to capsule machines. He was with his own kind. Though he may find his shyness/ social anxiety/ self doubt/ people pleasing/ and awkwardness frustrating, it's actually very in line with how most of Japan functions. Without realizing it, he was fitting in. Everyone in Akihabara was just as enthralled with the place and the pop culture as he was. Though Pudding went many places and did many things with his time in the land of the rising sun, Akihabara was his favorite.
We went to the biggest shrine, Meiji Jingu, and I taught pudding the local traditions. We perused the fashion district, Harajuku. We went to the largest temple, SensoJi, and browsed the temple market. I took him through Shibuya to see “World's busiest crosswalk”. He was really holding in there for a couple of days, but the guy has bad feet and couldn't walk as much as I'd expected. Sooner than later he threw in the towel and took most of a day off to rest his feet. During the hiatus he got a craving for his favorite beer, Guinness. We couldn't immediately find it, and he went on for days about it. Finally we went to a chain English pub to get one just so he could get on with his life. With his focus temporarily restored we made for the emperor's palace and then the various gardens such as “Rikugien”where we drank thick sweet “amazake” rice wine in a traditional tea house overlooking a pond as rain sprinkled gently.
Pudding would complain about his legs being sore all the time, apparently due to all the walking. This was the only physical activity he'd had in a couple months since his job as a computer programmer had been consuming all his time. His leg soreness was timed well though, because often it would show up as a heavy monsoon was blowing in, prompting us to take shelter for a couple days and rest while engaging in indoor activities such as museums and malls. During one mall excursion we stumbled on a ridiculous performance by a boy-band called “Da Pump”; it was entertaining for all the wrong reasons. During one of the breaks in the rain we popped over to Roppongi and went over to Tokyo Tower and the “Sky Tree”. While there, I thought I would impart to him the wonders of “Taiyaki”, a waffle in the shape of a fish, grilled street side and filled with sweet red bean paste, custard, or some equally delicious treats. I found a new one I'd never seen before: mint. I got it. It was definitely just filled with toothpaste. It was one of the worst things I have ever eaten, and very much scared me away from anything else “mint” the rest of the time I was in Japan. I took Pudding to the Tokyo Dome Amusement Park, ecstatic that I finally had someone to ride the incredible looking roller coaster with. The coaster runs through the ferris wheel, through some buildings and over the area. It was all I wanted. It was closed for repairs. I was dissapointed and Pudding was underwhelmed. The lack of excitement and tiredness caused him to crash from “lack of sleep” even though he was averaging 11 hours of bed time a night. He said he couldn't get to sleep in a timely fashion so he would take medicine and watch videos on his phone until he dozed off, but I suspect these things were hindering more than helping.
Even on his recovery days I made sure my friend was still experiencing something new. He tended to gravitate toward things like rotating sushi and bath houses. The rotating sushi now has a personal touch screen at each seat, so you order what you want and your order shoots out over to you via a belt about head level. It's convenient, but it takes away the “impulse buy” factor of the old way and renders the rotating lower belt nothing but nostalgia. The bath houses hadn't changed though, and my friend really liked going for a nice hot soak in natural hot spring water to rest his disproportionately weary bones. We went to one that let in people with tattoos and saw some mafia types. Everyone was too relaxed to care. The one activity he seemed to not be able to get enough of was eating takoyaki, fried doughy octopus balls. It didn't matter the time or the occasion, he wanted to eat those balls. It was a boon to him then that there was a takoyaki themed neighborhood bar one street over from where we were staying, staffed with people fresh from Osaka, the home of takoyaki. They also had my favorite Japanese specialty: Okonomiyaki, also from Osaka. Anytime the urge hit him, and they were open, we would pop in and eat triple the amount of the other customers. They probably thought us barbarians, but my friend was bringing the coin, so they never showed any frustration.
While exploring Tokyo we found out there was some kind of toy fair going on. Admission was free, so we decided to check it out. We took a train to Odaiba, where the event was being held, but misjudged a train stop and walked all the way across the well known Rainbow bridge. It was a nice walk, but it was too much for my buddy. The bridge crossing plus the toy exhibition completely drained him and by 2pm he had called it a day. I had never seen someone who was so chronically tired. He was always either “waking up”, or “ready for bed”, or “worn out from a previous thing”. He was never fully functional. I had to keep a close eye on him because once he became really tired his base perceptions were impaired. He wouldn't realize he needed to eat, or his balance would be compromised. I witnessed him trip up some stairs several different times within the span of a few minutes. This was fine though, as long as I kept him going near his limit but not passed it he would be fine and do the things on his list. He was given a few day's rest to recuperate from “all the walking” and prepare himself for climbing Mt. Fuji. While he slept and did laundry I worked out training myself, and finished final preparations for climbing Mt. Fuji. Technically it wasn't climbing season, but I'd climbed outside the normal season before. Plus, it was only a week before the actual season, so I was sure we'd be fine.
I decided the safest route for pudding would be up the standard Yoshidaguchi trail that everyone uses. Five years prior they had even renovated the trail and got Mt. Fuji on the UNESCO world heritage list. It was safer than ever: well trodden, sign posted, and very little chance of getting lost or so far away we couldn't find someone for evac assistance if Pudding fell and got seriously hurt. Of course I had him carry a first aid kit and food, plus a sweater, sunscreen, hat, sunglasses, and some electrolyte fluids, but there is only so much you can do to plan for catastrophic injury. Normally I would have left the night before the climb to get as close as possible, sleep on the ground, and begin casually before sunrise. My buddy is not at all built for that kind of thing, and with no conditioning or experience, I needed to pace him for success. Instead of my usual way, we woke up at 4:30 in the morning and left at 5. The trains weren't running in a fashion that let us make our connection, and one of them was delayed due to road construction. As a result we didn't arrive at Sengen shrine, the starting point for the climb from the base, until 11am. We were several hours behind the desired schedule. Even so, Pudding was gung-ho to stick to the original plan: Climb from the very bottom to the peak then back to halfway to catch the bus back to our place, all in one go. It was doable in the better part of a non-stop day, and a several hour delay really didn't alter the logistics much in the grand scheme of things. Pudding was excited.
About an hour in to the trek Pudding was dying of exhaustion. We were walking through the safe part of the lush lower forest area, but his energy was rapidly depleting as sweat poured from his body and his walking cadence became a trudge. His breathing sounded like he was treading water in rough seas, desperate to stay afloat and not drown. I had never traveled with someone with such a weak constitution who wanted to do challenging things. I would do everything in my power to not let him fail! I kept an eye on him and he pressed on. Hours ticked by and as we passed the old abandoned lower stations and shrines we slowly ascended beyond the humid and wet forests. Gradually the vibrant greens of the plants gave way to a desolate volcanic landscape with a snow capped peak towering forebodingly above us. We had arrived at the 5th station, the halfway point and area where most people start their climb. Surprisingly, all the huts and stalls were closed save for one. I knew it was the off season, but on prior climbs there had been more activity on the mountain. Pudding said he was still keen to stick to the plan, but first he wanted to get some hot food at the only open hut. After eating he told me he wanted to rest for the night and continue in the morning. His call.
We would have stayed in that hut, but Pudding did not heed my repeated advice that Japan is a cash based society and he needed to withdraw as much as possible from the ATM before we got to the mountain as there wouldn't be facilities available. Instead, he withdrew about half the amount I told him to, because in his words “ I don't like carrying cash; I thought this would be enough.” He didn't have the money necessary. If he paid to stay he wouldn't' have the money for the new rations we would need due to adding a day to the climb by not sticking to the plan. We also needed climbing sticks, without which the mountain would have been impossible for him. If he got one thing he couldn't get the others. I did a quick number crunch and decided we could get sticks, take a bus into town, stay the night, use the ATM in town and gather rations, then take a bus back up in the morning continuing where we left off. It was the most efficient use of the funds. I asked the proprietor of the hut were we could get Fuji sticks since everything was closed. He wasn't sure, but he thought he might have a couple lying around, though his wife said they didn't have any. After some searching he produced what were likely the only two they had, and sold them to us. Then I pressed about the bus. It was 4:30 in the afternoon, and he said if we left right then to the bus platform we would absolutely make it on time.
The last bus was at 4:20! We would have had to travel back in time 10 minutes to make it on time! Arriving at the 5th station shanty town bus terminal we found the place was abandoned. There was nothing open, nothing around. The buses were gone, the taxis were gone. The road to town too long to walk to make it practical and the roads were barricaded after dark anyway to keep out mountain bandits. We were stuck and the temperature was dropping fast. We saw one other guy, a Hungarian, who seemed frazzled. “This is bullshit” he said. “I came here because multiple reputable websites assured me there would be accommodation here, on this date. Everything's closed! It's getting freezing outside. The only place safe is the toilet because it's sealed and heated, so I'm staying the night in there.” With no other options, we decided to do the same. Hungarian took one handicapped stall, Pudding and I stretched out on the floor of the other one. As we lay on the floor of the handicapped toilet, Pudding turned to me and said “Is this what it's like being Nash? Not having enough money so you have to choose between shelter, transport, and supplies, but you need them all?” Yep. All the time. “This kind of sucks. I'll stick to working all the time and having money.” Well, my life is good enough for who it's for. We slept in the toilet until 4:30 in the morning.
Resuming our climb after a day's delay we were greeted by a rare spot of clear weather. It stayed that way for awhile, and I figured Pudding would have an easier go of it after the night's rest. He was dying immediately. There was nowhere to get water or food and he was thirsty. I'd already climbed twice without food or fluids so I knew I was fine. I had eaten all my rations the day prior, thinking my client could keep to the original plan. I made sure Pudding kept eating the remainder of his rations throughout the day to stay as energized as possible, since he wasn't going to eat them without being forced to. He stayed lucid and energized for a while but mechanically he failed in quick fashion. It was a good thing I had us get the Fuji sticks when we did because everything else everywhere on the mountain was closed and he needed the stick badly. Soon my friend's poor legs were completely fried, moving as if they were floppy boneless meat socks. He had worthless baby-goat legs and the stick bore almost his entire weight. When he stopped moving and stood still he would shake like an old-wet-cold-dog. He was talking of quitting, but I would hear none of it. I wasn't going to endanger him, unnecessarily, but I knew he could make it to the top.
He pressed on, and eventually we began to run into the handful of people who where on the mountain besides us. They had set off before sunrise and were now on their way down. One of them was the Hungarian who slept in the toilet stall next to ours. He told us he'd made it just passed the 9th station, but right after the snow and ice were too much to overcome. He turned back and told us to do the same. I told him we'd keep going as far as we could. The plan was to get Pudding to the peak, and then down to the bus in time. He informed us in no uncertain terms there was no way in hell we were doing either one. He clearly didn't know who he was talking to. Pudding started saying we might want to listen to him. He said he was “feeling his mortal-ness”. He was just scared and tired. I was fine and assured him he was too.
After over seven hours of climbing we passed the 9th station and were slogging through and around the frozen slush. We gained ground by going around when we could. Just as Pudding was ready to quit for good, the effort was rewarded by reaching the summit. Victory! I knew my friend could do it. I was contracted to get him up there and I don't quit. To think, the Hungarian was just 10 minutes or so from his ultimate goal, but turned around right at the final challenge; The perfect metaphor for how most people live their lives. Not me though, and by proxy not the people I'm with. Though I'd gotten the man to the top and accomplished his goal, there was still the matter of getting him off the mountain.
We began our descent with the intention to catch the bus out at the 5th station. If we didn't make it in time, the backup plan was to just walk all the way back to the base and catch it from there. Pudding was entirely confident he could descend all the way to the base of the mountain... until he started descending. His unconditioned body was completely spent. He could barely stand. In fact, he fell many times, gaining bloody cuts and scrapes in the process. Catching the bus represented his only shot off the mountain. He had no money for a taxi, there was no place for lodging even if he did have the money, and no food or water. He needed to be on that bus and he knew it. Dripping with sweat his breathing became a constant labored wheeze. Each step he took was just a fall stopped short with the stick. As if he wasn't moving slow enough with great difficulty already, the weather returned to it's normal unpleasantness. A thick fog rolled in that made visibility beyond one meter all but impossible. With our visual guide markers obscured we were forced to go ever slower lest we fall badly or get lost. With my urging Pudding pressed on through what must have looked to an outsider to be the onset of Polio. Finally, we reached the 5th station arriving with no time to spare. On our arrival we found the place opened and full of people. It was alive with activity. Everything from shops, to restaurants, to places to stay were buzzing with people. Everything had just opened that afternoon. Where was all this the day before!? Sure would be nice to eat and not sleep on the floor of a toilet.
It was all so typically Nash. Things didn't go as planned, but they went as expected. After a bumpy couple of days, with a little luck and a lot of determination, there was success. Sure, there was train construction causing a late start. Pudding didn't' have the required money because he didn't listen to me, so we didn't have the supplies we should have had. We missed the bus and slept on the floor of a public toilet. The weather went bad and my friend's body became functionally useless. But despite it all, we made it. I promised success, not a problem free journey, and I delivered.
Not only had I lead my friend up the mountain which he doubted he could do right up until the end, but I had now climbed Mt. Fuji in it's entirety three times. This time I literally did not break a sweat, while my companion never stopped sweating. Of course even though we'd gotten Fuji sticks, they still couldn't be branded since it was the off season. The third time up, the third time with no brand. The traditional proof of success alluded me again. Pudding did take pictures though. I'm 100 percent sure he wouldn't have made it on his own. During the climb when he wanted to quit and his body was collapsing I was urging him to continue telling him he was in better shape than I had been during some of my more harrowing outings. He looked at me and said “ I don't know how you find the drive to do the shit you do.” That's just what I am. Our two perceptions of the world, and the way we navigate existence, are not similar. Our fundamental essence is so different it's as if we are two very different species who happened to independently evolve into similarly shaped creatures. However, since he'd contracted me to get him up there, I was going to try and impart a little of whatever I am to him. Quitting for anything other than real danger is not an option. I reminded him that people hire guides all the time and don't make the summit. If he'd hired someone else he likely would have been one of them. Thankfully for him it was me he hired, and the expedition was a success. After we got off our last minute bus we caught the fanciest, fastest train back to Shinjuku. We celebrated with top quality takoyaki and drinks, showered, and went to bed.
While in bed I wondered if the experience of succeeding on Mt. Fuji would lead to future breakthroughs for my friend. I contemplated if it even could lead to change, let alone would, on account of his bad memory, among other things. Conscious learning seems to be a semi-circular spiraling causal chain of events. You first need to experience something new, then have the ability to reflect on that new thing, be affected in some way, and then be able to recall the thing or affect. If there is a missing link in the chain then no conscious learning seems to occur i.e. no change. He, like most people, seem to be living in a sort of functional comatose state. However, the key word is “conscious” learning. I took solace in to what's known as the “Tetris Effect”, wherein a person with no memory of doing anything still retains the subconscious neuro pathways formed from things happening to them. Even though my friend may forget everything that happened on his trip, somewhere inside his brain a subtle chain has been made. A change for the better.
Pudding had given it his all in the climb and needed a few days of serious rest once we returned. Those comparatively idle days gave me time to work out and plan our excursion to Kumamoto, on the island of Kyushu. During my friend's recuperation he and I casually tried new foods and went for soaks at the bath house. One day while showing pudding around town someone yelled “NASH!”. I looked around and saw Tanaka, my old handler from my Japanese school days. It had been several years since we'd seen each other but he said he was able to spot me because I looked exactly the same as I did when we first met over a decade prior. He certainly didn't look like he'd aged a day. We chatted for a bit, and he told me he hadn't kept up on his Iaido training for a couple years because he'd been working so much. I lightly chastised him and told him to give all the teachers my best. I would have done it myself, but Pudding and I were leaving for Kyushu the next morning and needed to be ready.
Even though Pudding had days to pack and I reminded him the night prior, he still hadn't packed by the morning we were leaving. He did some last minute packing and we jumped on a super cheap flight to Kyushu. In my haste to get Pudding out the door I forgot my lock-picks and multi-tool were still on my person. The multi-tool was immediately seized, but I told security the picks were just my special keys and they let me have them. When we got to Kumamoto the monsoon season was in full effect and on full blast. The rain rarely let up. Thankfully we were staying at a large multi-story proper hotel I'd found for cheap and the staff were kind enough to lend us umbrellas. We grabbed our rain shields and tried to sample as much of the local culture as we could, a highlight of which was the giant Okonomiyaki. The real reason we had come to Kyushu was to take a pilgrimage to Miyamoto Musashi's grave. Miyamoto Musashi is the greatest swordsman Japan had ever produced, and his books have been used as the philosophical basis for the Japanese martial arts, business culture, and Japanese culture in general. Though it was technically a pilgrimage it was hardly a trial.
All we really had to do to get to Musashi's memorial/burial was walk casually for about half an hour after we left the train station. The only obstacle we faced were the torrential rains. Pressing through the downpour we arrived at our goal, greeted by a statue of the famous swordsman, and the monsoon loosened it's grip on the area long enough for us to enjoy the place. After we finished touring the area and I'd paid my respects we went to the hall of souvenirs. I could finally grab the souvenir one of my friends stateside had been requesting for years. I am a man of my word, but sometimes circumstances arise that cause delays.
Fulfilling the purpose of my pilgrimage we decided to visit the scenic world famous Kumamoto Castle, or what was left of it at least. Two years prior a massive earthquake wrecked Kumamoto and all but destroyed the castle and caused significant damage to some major temples. The castle was of course closed for repairs, and the view when we went was mostly just construction cranes, rubble, and scaffolding. They were optimistic they would be finished by the 2020 Tokyo Olympics, but I had my doubts. However I was pleasantly surprised when a guard stopped me to question me about the intricacies of the English language. For example, the difference between “Where did you come from?” and “Where are you from?”. I was delighted to help, and hope I didn't confuse him too much.
Disappointed by the castle we tried a visit to Honmyoji, a temple which has the largest collection of stone lanterns I ever recall seeing. Though it had been damaged by the earthquake it was at least open. After our visit we prepared to return to Tokyo. Pudding was homesick for American meat, so we went to an American themed place and got gigantic burgers. They were almost a foot tall, with multiple patties, bacon, eggs, and potato salad, but no buns. The following morning we flew back to Tokyo. It turns out after we left Kyushu, the monsoon didn't let up. Floods forced the evacuation of millions of people. Trains and houses were swept away and landslides reshaped the landscape. Many people were killed. Now I REALLY have my doubts about their ability to finish the castle repair in a timely manner. There may be nothing left at all! Of course I didn't know those things were happening at the time, I was preoccupied with dealing with airport security.
I was very thoroughly searched on the way back to Tokyo. Two guards unpacked my bag and filled 5 security bins worth of my things. They were looking for my lock-picks which they thought was a knife. Of course you aren't' allowed to ask questions or touch your things during the process, so it took quite a while. Once they found them, I told them they were my special “American keys”, and definitely not a knife, and they sent me on my way.
When we got back to Tokyo we arranged a dinner with my Karate buddy Mori and some folks from the Kyokushin dojo. Even though Pudding and I had brought our training gear to Japan we didn't go training officially. Pudding's body was too racked with injuries and out of shape. Real training may have fully broken or killed him. I wasn't about to go training without him for two reasons. One, because I was to be guiding him around and leaving him behind would have been selfish, and two he would have wasted his time while I was gone. I said I would guide him, and get his to-do list taken care of, and I take my word seriously. I needed to watch him like a lemming. Instead of training we just showed up at the dojo at the time Mori told us. The dojo was still full of people, so Mori made everyone challenge me to a forearm bashing contest/conditioning drill. I crushed everyone. Then one of the fighters filmed me doing one finger handstand push ups. It felt electric to be back.
After I'd had my fill of screwing around, hitting the equipment, and crushing competition, we gathered a group of six people and went out for drinks and sushi. I was surprised when Mori didn't drink. He had to get home that night; he just had a kid! Shizen is her name. He seems to be quite a good dad. After finding out about the changes in Mori's life, he quizzed me about my recent shenanigans. He seemed amused, but not surprised. The half-Polish half-Russian girl that was part of the group was shocked though. “You're life is incredible!”. It's all right. “You've got the life and the body, you should be in the movies!” Well, funny enough people keep saying that but it hasn't worked out. “Get on it! You're not getting any younger!” … .thanks. We brainstormed ways to make it happen, and get me some money. They recommended I get parts where I just show up and be myself in every movie, the way it seems Jason Statham and Jason Mamoa do. After trying to figure out ways to get me money for being me, everyone had to get back to their lives so we parted ways. I told them I was hoping to be back in a year, and we'd train and party then. Pudding and I missed the last train and had to walk back.
Our final night in Japan, Pudding and I went out to meet up with a Japanese girl and guy I'd met in Peru. Our schedules kept miss-aligning so we didn't get together for dinner until the last possible day. The girl had a two hour train ride from Saitama prefecture! We met up in Ikebukuro and the four of us went on a traditional Japanese pub crawl. The Japanese guy had to bow out about two thirds of the way through because he had to catch the last bus to Osaka that night. With just the girl, pudding, and myself left we decided to go to a high-end Japanese Sake specialty bar. It was the nicest sake place I'd ever been to! The menu was so esoteric not even the girl understood it! We just defaulted to the recommendations of the Sake sommelier. We stayed drinking in the small place with the spartan décor and an overwhelming variety of Japanese alcohol, nihonshu, until they closed. The three of us agreed we should get going back to our places before it got too late. The girl had a two hour ride back and didn't want to get caught with the trains stopped. My friend and I had to leave for the airport bright and early. As the three of us drunkenly made our way back to the train station a group of rambunctious bar touts jumped out of some bar and tried to get us to go in.
“One drink! Just one drink!” The excited laughing touts kept shouting at us before finally gently grabbing us and manually pulling us into their bar. Everyone seemed so happy, and drunk. The atmosphere was electric. I looked at the girl. “We probably have time for one drink.” She said. One drink! Everyone cheered. They had a novel option for ordering drinks. You could just pick one from the menu, or you could select the “gamble”. With the gamble you rolled a pair of dice and the total dictated what you got. Of course I gambled! Fortune favors the bold. I won a whiskey tonic, normal price but almost triple the size, served in a giant beer stein! Pudding won the same drink, normal size but at half price. The girl won a beer. As the three of us sat down to socialize with the rollicking group that had pulled us in, we discovered that the eight or so people in the group didn't even work at the place! They were all so chummy and excited it had seemed like the group of friends were employed there, but that wasn't the case. In fact, as we talked we discovered the group didn't even know each other two hours prior! Most of them didn't even live in that prefecture, they'd all just wound up there and hit it off. The whole scene was comedy gold. As we all got rowdier, one of the guys started playfully instigating challenges and over the course of one-upsmanship the girl I was with challenged him to an arm wrestling match … using me! I guess I was her champion. An oil drum was cleared off outside and we arm wrestled; I won using only my pinky finger. The crowd was astonished. I was then challenged to arm wrestle two guys at once, both on one hand. Victory! I finished my stein of whiskey, slammed it down, and declared an open challenge. This time I would arm wrestle three people at once! Two people normally, with a third pushing their hands perpendicularly. I won with little effort. I felt amazing! The crowd that had formed was beyond impressed, and I felt like the god of the bar. Soon after proving my alpha status everyone checked the time. My display of awesomeness had passed too much time! Everyone took off for the final train back to their respective places. Pudding, the girl, and I were suddenly in an empty bar. We decided to leave immediately or we would be stranded and screwed. I told the girl I planned to be back in a year, so we'd regroup then. I promised I wouldn't wait until the last day I was in town this time. Pudding and I only made it about halfway back to our place before the trains stopped, then we walked the rest of the way. We got to bed much later than we should have, but woke up in time to make it to the airport.
The three hour flight from Tokyo to Shanghai wasn't bad, but then we had a 20 hour layover. I prodded Pudding to go out and experience the city but he was too tired and having none of it. “I don't want to go out and pay money just to do some things and then come back.” That's literally all of living in society! By the time we made it through all the security we only had 14 usable hours of our layover. Six of those were spent sleeping on the marble floor. Almost two hours were spent at an airport restaurant not getting anything we thought we ordered. The remaining time Pudding played video games and I wrote. In what seemed a flash we were back on a plane. My friend did not enjoy the ride. The plane was noisy, congested, and poorly built. He was also sat next to a baby, and kept complaining that everyone was rude. I explained their behavior wasn't considered rude in China, and since we were in China on a Chinese airline full of Chinese people, he would have to accept the customs. “That's bullshit!” He is not a man of the world.
After a 16 hour flying cultural study we landed in Chicago. Our luggage and Fuji sticks made it too! We went to Pudding's parent's house to grab his car and some food and then drove another three hours back to our place. I needed to get the rental ready because the renters were moving out in two days. I expected to be busy right when I got there. However, on top of the normal work that the rental change-over entails, one day the renter's had locked themselves out and kicked in a window in order to re-enter the house. Then they “spilled hot tea” on the floor and destroyed the new wood floor finish. Extra work! Looks like I would be busier than I thought. On the day they were to move out I also had an out of town wedding to attend. Finally there were several people interested in moving into the rental, one of which was my friend's family He'd just found out short notice he needed somewhere for them to stay for over a month, but the place was already reserved by someone else. While getting the whole thing taken care of the water main in front of the property exploded and took out 5 feet of the driveway and created a whole 8 ft deep, then the street caved in and flooded the neighborhood. After dealing with that, the plumbing in the house failed, and it flooded. This necessitated the yard being dug up to replace 60 year old pipes, getting a new route put in for some amenities, new floors, pieces of walls getting cut out, etc. The whole thing was weeks worth of full time work I wasn't expecting.
The second the plane landed I walked right into a responsibility shit-storm, and I needed to take care of it all as soon as possible. I had plans of my own to tend to, and things weren't looking good at the moment.
-Nash