Where in the World is Marta Senn-Diego? The Sixth in Sasebo

I arrived in Sasebo on Friday afternoon, and completely done with traveling on trains, I spent the next few hours just walking around the city a bit.

A few fun facts about Sasebo:

It has the longest covered shopping arcade in Japan dating back to the Allied Occupation. It's called Sun Plaza and it's really freaking cool! It has everything from little tiny takoyaki stands to pachinko parlors (plural), multi-level shopping centers and one room boutiques.

House upon house upon house!

The 2011 census counted a population of 259,800 with about 609 persons per square kilometers. The total area is 426.47 square kilometers. Think about that. I think this picture might help.

Down south is Huis Ten Bosch, a Dutch themed amusement park. Why Dutch? Way back when, Sasebo was the main trading port Japan had with the Netherlands. It was also a major shipping port between Korea and China, so naturally there are some remnants of those cultures here and there. The coolest mix is in the white porcelain-ware with classic Chinese blue-glazed designs which was later adopted in Europe. It's a small world after all!

The town's sister city in America is Albuquerque! I know I mentioned it last year but it's just funny to me as a Looney Tunes enthusiast.

Seishin Cathedral is a Christian church with a heavy gothic style built in the 1930s. It withstood the air raids of WWII and sits prominently on top a cement reinforced hill on main street.

It has two very cool morning markets. The Asaichi Morning Market down by the Naval wharf opens at 3am and sells all kinds of scary and delicious looking fresh seafood as well as fruits, vegetables, fish cakes, bean buns, rice crackers and flowers. Every other weekend, the public is allowed to participate in the fish auctions!

Good morning, fish!

The other market is on Tono-doori and is mostly produce and home goods. It's a line of shops with awnings, all sitting shoulder to shoulder. It looks a little peculiar and then you understand why: reportedly, it used to be an air raid shelter!

The town specialty is Sasebo Burgers (everything you love about burgers and more) and also Seaman's Stew (a thicker beef stew) and lemon steak (thinly sliced steak strips seasoned in a ponzu sauce, grilled and finished with lemon juice).

So what have I done in this crazy little town? Mostly I've spent my time chasing down my grandmother's ghost. On Saturday, I went to the maritime museum to do a little refresher course on Sasebo's naval history. Something about the uniform we saw that might have been like Haruko's father's was bothering me: namely, the placard said it was made official in the 1880's. It's the only one with black feathers, which she mentioned to my mother years ago, so that was my only hint.

Chasing that and other questions, I went to the city library. In the history section, I did find some books with good pictures to help me get an idea of life in Sasebo during those years. In another section, I found what I was looking for. An American had published a picture book of his collection of WWII uniform and weapons regalia. And there was a more modern version of an officer's uniform with black feathers on the cap!

To keep things light, I spent the rest of the day trolling for pictures and checking out Nimitz Park. I enjoyed my lunch under a sakura tree and listened to a man playing a Japanese wooden flute. Does it get any better than that?

On my way back to the hotel, I strolled through the pier promenade where there is a bookstore, some swanky food stores and boutiques...and happened upon a guy just sitting on the pier playing the didgeridoo! It was lovely weather for it, so why not? What set him apart was his showmanship: he sat on a plastic drum rigged with a foot-pedal for a drum set. While he digeri-did, he tapped his foot to beat his makeshift drum and shook some home made maracas with his free hand.

I took a little break in my hotel, but around dusk, headed back out to find something to eat. When the American soldiers made land here, it sparked the rebirth of the nightlife industry in Sasebo. This ended up being a mixed blessing with lots of issues with public drunkenness and issues with women's personal safety...ahem. Bars and cabarets were opened as well and theatres, and neon signs switched on where lanterns and light bulbs had been. The neon signs are still here, bright and cheerful alongside seedy and garish. You just have to be careful where you step.

I carefully stayed to the main, more brightly colored areas and stumbled across a few American bars. Some establishments have signs out front that advertise their "American-Friendly" quality. Whatever that means because there are few of these official-looking seals. My theory is they are considered favorites by the cadets and officers or have won some popularity contest.

Whatever the case may be, I strolled by the noisier ones or ones advertising buxom Japanese girls behind the bar. I know what those places would be like. I've strolled by enough American men the past few days and either been catcalled or ignored enough to know I'm not what they're in town for.

Instead, I found Bar G-Rock: a brightly lit little bar with autographed bras hanging from the ceiling and American record album covers and posters pasted on the wall with mustachioed $5 bills. The bar is operated by girls, but they're cool chicks, not little Lolitas feeling up the muscles of every meat head who walks in. I pulled up to the bar and ordered a vodka tonic and was served right away. While there were  guys outside drinking beers, they weren't rowdy. However, down the bar were two young men watching the movie on TV: for the record, the B-movie, "Anaconda."

Every other word was blue from these guys. "I'd shoot that effing effer." "If I ever see a snake like that, I'd sh-- my effing pants." It was annoying to listen to, but they'd go back to staring at their phones or smoking and shut up for a few minutes.

The girls mostly talked to each other and me. We got to chatting about Sasebo, where I'm from, why I was in town...we even played Connect Four...and they kicked my butt every time. They asked if I knew any of the men in town or had a boyfriend. I laughed and said, "No way!" We then naturally moved into describing our ideal men. After the lunks left, I felt free enough to ask one of them a bold question:

"What do you think of these American men?"

She made a discreet face. Some of the men, like the quiet ones drinking and smoking outside, are fine. But not her type. Then there are "others." Jerks who come in, don't say "Hello" and instead, slap the table and shout "Hey b----! Hey!" and demanding service. She doesn't like how much they swear or how they want her to always drink with them. I was stunned, but also very grateful that she shared that kind of insight with me. We toasted to the gentlemen we hope to find some day.

Today, I tackled Sasebo City Office in search of Haruko's family records. With my friend, Masa's, help, I had a letter written by him explaining what I was doing and asking for their help. They were very helpful, and took me to a counter right away. I handed them the letter, a copy of my mother's birth certificate and Haruko's passport. I was sent to have a seat while they pulled up the documents.

After about 30 minutes or so, I was approached by three people. They had documents on Haruko and her parents, and indeed the papers were in one of the women's hands. But there was a problem. Because Japan is really defensive about identity theft, if you're looking for family records, you need to be a Japanese or you need indisputable proof that you're a blood relative. Apparently, I lacked one very important document: my birth certificate.

I talked to them the best I could, then called my friend Harue who graciously talked to them. Eventually, we figured out a plan: I would send faxed copies of all the papers and the letter to the office and they'd verify everything and send it along to my American address via air mail.

I asked Harue to ask them if I could just know Haruko's father's name. Then I could do some research into his role in the Navy or find out where the family house was. Nope. Even that's too much information than they are willing to give! But fortunately, we have a game plan and my parents can help out from overseas. Fingers, legs, toes, and eyes are crossed right now.

The sun sets on Nimitz, but not my hopes!

After an exhaustive morning, I needed to take a walk. I explored a nearby temple and massive graveyard. When I die, I want to have a gorgeous stone marker like the ones in Japan and I want it to always have flowers. Some of the markers are beautifully engraved and embellished with gold paint or foil. The older ones higher up in the back and under the trees are covered in moss and creeping vines, but they have their own wild and eerie elegance.

I spent a long time doing a seemingly simple task: looking for post cards. Most cities go the extra mile to provide an abundance of post cards that boast the local sights or specialties in beautiful pictures, sometimes with a fun message. Sasebo, however...Sasebo is postcard-challenged. I found a couple decent cards of the 99 Islands and Sasebo's city scape by night, but that's it. I guess I'll find some nicer ones in Fukuoka later this week: Sorry, friends, but a lot of you will have to continue to wait for a card.

I settled in a cafe to write my cards and people watch. I saw a man walking his cat on a leash and another man whose parkour dog couldn't walk by a mailbox or bench without jumping up onto it. I saw Japanese boys with bleached hair and Japanese girls who struggled to clomp through the arcade in platform heels. Seriously, either the shoes are a size too big or three inches too high, but everywhere in Japan, the young and foolish have a hard time finding that balance...literally!

Goodnight, Sasebo!

Tomorrow I'm returning to Fukuoka to chase one last lead on Haruko and see a bit of the old city. Maybe I'll take a leisure day and find myself being punted up a river...quite an image that creates!

Where in the World is Marta Senn-Diego? Part Five. "No more Nagasaki! No more war!"

I'm not 100% up to writing today, considering I finally made my trip to the Atomic Bomb Museum and Memorial Hall and park. I certainly wasn't expecting something dull and banal, but there was no way I could have prepared myself for how the museum would make me feel.

A good comparison for most Americans who have been to D.C. would be the Holocaust Museum. Now take those feelings and compound them again and again until your heart feels like a black hole and you want to just scream in pain and anger.

The museum is a very graphic experience, but with completely justifiable reason. There's no other way for the generations who followed the aftermath of the atomic bombs to understand the absolute horror and inhumanity. "Deplorable" just doesn't quite cover it. "Sickening" is closer, but doesn't adequately describe the necessary indignation Americans should feel towards the leaders who ignored pleas for another way.

None of a lot of what I learned today was ever discussed in my history class. For example, the so-called "Interim Committee" on May 17th decided to strike Hiroshima without prior warning. While the kamikaze bombers who struck Pearl Harbor didn't attack the hospital there, schools, stations, hospitals and medical schools were destroyed at the Nagasaki hypocenter. And the lasting physical damage done to not only those who survived the heat and radiation, but the effect it had on unborn children was terrible. This is about as inhuman as we've seen humanity.

In one part of the room, there were displays of roof tiles, bubbled and distorted from the heat. Brown glass bottles were melted like puddles of honey or molasses. Wooden walls still show the shadows of someone's laundry hung to dry in the morning sun. A photograph of a similar shadow was that of a lookout standing by a ladder.

A small case held what, at a distance, looked like a fused pile of gravel. When I stepped closer, it was hardened clay, glass, metal fragments...and a skeletal hand.

In another room, there was a map showing the stockpiles of nuclear warheads in the world. America has the most: 7,300.

I'll leave it at that.

I needed air and sunlight, so I went out and walked up the street to the Peace Park. The weather was absolutely beautiful and walking through the park under the cherry blossoms did make me feel better. Some of the statues in the Peace Park are very moving, but I'm not a fan of the largest and most revered. At the end of the former prison grounds (the foundations are still there today), the giant sits with one hand up to "call attention to the presence of nuclear arms in the world" and one is outstretched in a peaceful gesture. One leg is folded under itself in a meditative state while the other has a foot planted on the ground as though it would stand and step into action. It's a beautiful sentiment, but the statue is ungainly, distorted and clumsy.

I much prefer the water fountain opposite the statue. Many of the people who were dying in the streets after the blast were begging for water. The fountain was built to honor them in a perpetual offering to put their memories to rest.

I sincerely hope that we never ever ever see the use of nuclear weapons again. Nobody has the right to use them, no cause is justified.

Where in the World is Marta Senn-Diego? Part Four: Fukuoka? I Hardly Know Her!

My fourth day was pretty simple: get to Fukuoka/Hakata, check in, sleep. Of course, the best plans are the ones that are never laid out or something like that. Oh, I got to Fukuoka. After seven hours of train riding I got to Fukuoka. Of course, that's nothing compared to what it took to get to Hiroshima, so I wasn't complaining. It was also a beautiful ride, and I got to enjoy looking at the aquamarine seaside along the way. It was a lot warmer, though, so by the time I reached Hakata Station, I was feeling self-conscious and pungent.

I was feeling very excited when I arrived, spotting all the familiar landmarks I'd seen with my parents. Unfortunately, no, Allan the Bard wasn't on the street. Sorry, Dad, I looked. Sorry, Grampa, I looked...but not for long and not down any dark alleys.

I checked into the very cool Hana Hostel which was easy enough to spot: in a shopping arcade and next to an OWL CAFE! It was closed by the time I arrived, but I know where I'm going when I go back to Hakata next week!

Udon refuel at the station

The staff was very cool, and mostly Japanese except for the one Brit who is actually working there in exchange for free room and board for a couple weeks. He works a few hours a day and is free to explore the rest of the time. I looked into doing that, but it didn't mesh well with my plans. But he liked it and recommends it.

Made with love...and octopus!

It just so happens that shortly after I checked in, the staff was going to host a little takoyaki party and cook some fresh for the guests. I was tempted to bow out because my first experience with octopus balls wasn't at all impressive: soggy and cold. No bueno. But for 300 yen, I could be persuaded to hang out and just relax for the evening rather than hole up in my bunk.

I made the right choice! Along with the staff of four and myself, the party was small: a British couple joined us and later on, I met Nyle...he's French originally, but has spent seven years traveling. I found another Nomad, Dad! But Nyle is cleaner, not a recovered alcoholic and had cute little dreadlocks in his little sandy blonde beard. He's been all over, and wants to make it to South America or Africa after Japan, whenever that is. We spent a good amount of time talking philosophy and volunteerism. He was quiet, but cheerful and the whole group was just pleasant company.

We chatted and cooked our takoyaki until about 9pm. I'd eaten more than my fair share, I'm sure, and needed to take a stroll. I wandered the streets, ducked into host and hostess bars district (to give you an idea, the girls look like baby dolls and the boys look like girls looking like baby dolls, only more pouty), and walked along the river.

At night, ramen and yakitori stands are set up along the river for guests to duck under the sheet plastic and have a quick bite. They have food trucks in the West, but these little pop up restaurants in the East. I find that really fascinating and if I wasn't stuffed, would have sat and enjoyed a beer and gazed at the evening sakura with the rest of the patrons.

Instead, I went back, finally showered and tucked in for a good night's rest before moving on to Sasebo. But before hitting the tracks, I left the hostel early to see a shrine around the corner.

I don't pray, but I wish. If anything, it's a way to remind myself to take it slow. When I ring the bell and close my eyes and think "I wish to be patient and cool-headed," I'm really just reminding myself to be conscious and careful so I don't get scattered and lose something vital like my passport, tickets, or sanity.

So far, it's worked out nicely.

Where in the World Is Marta Senn-Diego? Part Three: You Don't Know What You're Misen

I bid a fond farewell to Kyoto en masse: to Mr. Peanut, to Pink Momo, to Gion, to Kinka and Ginka-kujis, to the sakura that I would unfortunately miss the chance to see in full bloom. But the time had come and I was on the train and off to Hiroshima!

From my journal the night I arrived in Hiroshima City: "Long day. Very long. Goodnight." I devoted about ten hours to riding the JR local trains, at times standing the whole ride between cities because commuters were packed onto the trains. No gloved platform attendants were needed, thankfully, but it got a little tight at times. You wouldn't think just riding the train all day would wear you out but I was dead on my feet and cursing the world for too few crosswalks in Hiroshima by the time I made it to my hostel.

When they teach American high school students about Nagasaki and Hiroshima, they cover the very basics. It's almost like we're too embarrassed to admit the effect of the bombs, so at least in my case, the whole ordeal was glossed over in a very uncomfortable couple of classes. But nobody talks about how well Hiroshima has recovered and what a lively and diverse town it is! Nobody talks about the magnitude of the Peace Park and how every monument erected stands for the injured or dead victims or just in honor and hope for peace. To America, Hiroshima stopped in its tracks the day the bombs fell, but to the citizens of Hiroshima, the city is a phoenix and it's singing a song for the end of nuclear war.

Hiroshima's a great example of not turning your back on the past, but rather recognizing it's importance and devoting the future to never going backwards.

Reminders of the past sit mesh with the present

After I finally settled all my stuff on my bunk bed in the hostel, I introduced myself to two other young women in the room, Sara and Hannah (you know, I'm just going to write it like "Hana" for the sake of symmetry. She never told me how to spell it so I can feign ignorance. Nobody tell her!) are both Americans from Arizona and Kansas respectively. They are also a vegetarian and a picky eater respectively: they told me about how they'd been struggling to find something they could both eat in each city they've been to so far on their backpacking trip. I was just trying to picture them both in an izakaya and they told me they'd been to a bar with lots of little skewers of things on sticks...needless to say, they ended up giving their generous leftovers to the guys sitting nearby. Fortunately, Japan knows how to dish up some good veggies, so the girls were happy.

They also told me they were headed to Kyoto after Hiroshima and here, after 10 hours of talking to no one, I launched into a diatribe of where they should go, what they should do, and how to take enjoy Gion without being a camera-thrusting douchebag. (Ladies, if you ever read this, sorry about yakking your ears off, but I hope you enjoyed Kyoto as much as I did!)

In the morning, I happened to see a tide chart in the hostel lobby and decided that I'd change my initial plans to see the famous "Floating Gate" in the afternoon and go to Miyajima Island in the morning while the tide was up and the Floating Gate, Otorii, was well..."floating."

You've probably seen it in every Google search of Japan: a big red Japanese gate standing in water like a bather wading along the beach.

For just 800 yen, I got a day pass to ride the city trams and the ferry to and from the island. It was a slow trip, but a great way to see the city. It was a beautiful day, too, and people were all over Miyajima. Mixed in with the crowd and begging for food were, you guessed it, deer!

I know, I know, after Nara you'd think I'd be over them. Nope. Miyajima is a wildlife lover's dream, full of lovely, Disney-esque, bitey deer. Fortunately, I didn't get bumped, kicked, or bitten like I was at Nara. Island life has made these deer very chill.



I walked the whole complex and got a good look at the temple ground and the beautiful Otorii itself.
On the island, there's a steep mountain called Mt. Misen: on top of this mountain, a Buddhist master ages ago spent 100 days meditating in a secret Buddhist practice and founded the local Buddhist sect.

The fire that he meditated over is kept burning today, centuries later! The flame is called "The Flame of Love" because they like to compare it's burning with the burning of desire. However, I sort of like the endurance of peace instead. Why the leap? Who needs to jump that shark? Anyway, this flame was also the pilot light for the peace flame in the Peace Park. Cool, right?

To get up there, you have two options: ball up and hike it or be like me and ride the "Rope Way." It's really two series of funiculars that take you up to the summit. As you ride, you look out the windows at the primeval forest which is considered a national treasure and has never been felled so it's still in its natural state! Once you're up there, you get a gorgeous view of Hiroshima and the beaches below. There are about a dozen or so different shrines to visit as well a number of very interesting natural rock formations including the "whale rock" which looks like a beached whale and comes with a blowhole and what's called "Scabies Rock." Rumor has it, if you have a skin disease, it's removed when you walk by the rock, but if you don't, you'll actually gain the disease!

I walked past it twice just to be sure.

A little passive aggressive, no?

As I was riding the Rope Way back down, I was in a car with four other elderly Japanese. I'd sort of lagged behind a group of Americans, not because I didn't want to be associated but because the guys were big and they reeked of B.O. As we left the platform in the car the mountain dropped off suddenly below and we all let out a very startled/thrilled cry like you would as you crest a roller coaster.

Back on the ground, I decided I'd better head back to town while it was still daylight to see the Peace Park. Right now, the Atomic Dome is undergoing stability surveys, so it's covered in wiring and mesh and framework. Still, the gravity of it weighs as heavy as the bricks that still lie where they fell decades ago. Across the river in the park, I found something that actually really affected me for a little while.

When I was in middle school, I found a book in the English classroom. It was about a Japanese girl who was exposed to radiation when she was two and later developed leukemia. While she was sick, she started making paper cranes hoping that if she made 1000, she'd be cured. She died before she finished.

I had no idea that there was a monument in her honor and the honor of children like her. The statue is a girl holding a framework crane. Under the monument is a bell you can ring for peace and behind are large glass cases full of cranes people have donated.

After seeing that, I walked around a bit, glad I was alone but also sad for the same reason. It was incredibly moving to see the number of advocated for peace. I just wish more people were aware of this simple way to send the message that they stand with Hiroshima and want the same thing.

That evening, I walked around the downtown area a bit. Do you know Hiroshima's local cuisine? Okonomiyaki! It's vaguely described as a "Japanese pancake" but that does it no justice: batter, chopped seafood or pork, egg, cabbage, pickled radish, a scrambled egg, yakisoba noodles all cooked on a hot oiled surface and stacked. There's even a section of town stacked just as densely with okonomiyaki restaurants called Okonomiyaki Mura or Village. That's a lot of okonomiyaki.

It was a good day in Hiroshima and I feel I spent the time well. When I left the hostel, I signed the guestbook and left an origami crane along with the others on the bookshelves. The next stop: Fukuoka.

Where in the World Did Marta Senn-Diego? Part Two: The Re-Kyoto-ing

My journey from Tokyo got off to a very good start: from the train, I got my first look at Mt. Fuji. I was on the local train to Shizuoka and got a beautiful view of Fuji for a good long while. The way the 10am sunlight hit the clouds around the mountain's base, they faded into the same pale blue as the sky behind. The tapered snowcap then floated serenely over the horizon, completely disembodied from the earth below. 

And so began my Kyoto adventures, part three. I divvied up the day between local trains and shinkansen and made it to Kyoto at a reasonable hour around 3pm. My hostel this time was just a few blocks north of the ryokan where my parents stayed last summer. Kyoto was already off to a good start mostly because it wasn't all typhoony.

I wasn't looking so nice, though. For starters, I hadn't changed clothes since the previous day, had slept in my internet cafe cubby overnight, and spent the day bustling through stations. It was also a very warm day! I hadn't expected it to be so warm, but I was still wearing multiple layers to save on luggage space: silk underthings, pants, two shirts, a jacket and my coat. By the time I got to my hostel, I was pretty ripe.

I peeled off all that nastiness and showered. Sweet, blissful, euphoric...these words flowed through my mind as the warm water hit my face. Clean, fresh, and ready to go, I went back out to troll the streets and get some photos before I lost the sunlight.

My first stop was Nishiki Market. Parallel to Shijo Avenue, it's an old and famous covered market street stuffed with shops and vendors selling everything under the sun from bags to shoes to chopsticks, cookies to nuts to all manner of seafood. And most of the stands hand out samples! I was hungry, naturally, but had no idea about the samples until I walked up to a pickles store.

"Pickles" in Japan just refers to the method of pickling something and can be daikon radishes, cucumbers, Western radishes, beets, greens, and little Japanese eggplants. And the pickling liquids are just as varied in flavor! At these pickle stores, little dishes were set out full of samples and you just use little tongs to pick up a sample, pick it off with your fingers and pop it in your mouth.

For a while, I camped out at the various pickle stores, filling up on veg, but found samples galore at cracker stores and even had some honey samples at a honey store. I never thought I'd eat yuzu honey alongside buckwheat honey, but in Kyoto, anything is possible!

After sufficiently haunting Nishiki, I walked over to another shopping arcade and ran smack dab into a street musician. Pink Momo, as he calls himself, was a man in a pink jacket, bleach blonde wig, bat wing head dress and holding a white guitar, singing original songs on the street. I stopped and watched for a while as he played, but when his song ended, he approached me and asked all sorts of the usual questions: Where I'm from, how long I've been here, etc. He was also eager to practice his English with me. We talked a bit about Kyoto, but suddenly, remarking on my blue-grey eyes, he decided he wanted to marry me. I played along and as he took my hand to shake it, I grabbed his hand and mock pulled him saying "Let's go! Let's marry!" We rapped like that for a few minutes. He begged my indulgence and handed me one of his flyers to continue practicing his English. He even gave me a little gift: a preserved scorpion in a block of glass.

By then, it was starting to grow dim, so I hurried back to Shijo and across the bridge to Gion. I got a few pictures of the tea houses, but was getting very hungry, so I didn't stick around to geisha spot. Instead, I found my way back to Shijo and found a cafe for some hot, soul-fulfilling curry before heading back to the hostel.

Last summer, my Kyoto-ventures were all in the Western part out in the mountains enjoying Arashiyama, Kinkakuji, and Ryoanji. This time, I followed my parents' advice and explored the East side. I started by walking along the river. The weather was a stark contrast to the previous day: cold and windy with occasional clouds. When it wasn't windy, it was bearable, but the wind and spotty cloud cover was a challenge. The river was especially windy, but I enjoyed the few sakura that had bloomed already. Most of the trees in Kyoto were just budding, a few days away from full bloom, making the few blossoms that much more precious to me.

Eventually, I went underground to catch the subway out to Nanzen-ji to see the beautiful shrines and parks out there. Unfortunately, my Japanese city map reading abilities are way out of practice and I ended up walking the wrong direction once I got to my destination station. After about 15 or 20 minutes, I figured it out and turned around and walked all the way back to the station before finding a tunnel that leads to the park.

I will never own a selfie stick. I think they just show how socially isolated we're slowly becoming, that we can walk around a crowded city or park and instead of asking someone to take a picture of us with our camera or phone, we'll stick the thing out into the crowd and clothesline someone just so we don't have to talk to another human being.

As I walked away from a giant temple gate, I noticed a man taking his wife's picture. I offered to take one of them together, and they were so grateful, they actually offered to take a picture of me with my camera. Now I have photographic evidence I was there, and it doesn't look like a nasal examination!

Up next was Eikan-do Zenrinji. The temple grounds offer a breathtaking view of Kyoto, but to get that view, you have to climb up to a pagoda. To get up there, you have to climb the stone steps that about about 7 inches deep and maybe a foot high. Calves begging for mercy, you pant and grasp the handrail as you observe the distant city below.

Back on earth, I strolled up Philosopher's Path. The stream runs along one side and the whole path is surrounded closely by sakura trees and people's homes, with the occasional cafe or tea shop on one side. I can imagine the early citizens strolling under the sakura trees and contemplating the brevity of life.

Before I realized it, I was at the base of the street leading to Ginkakuji! Ginkakuji isn't as visually impressive as Kinkakuji, but it's tranquil and the grounds are still lovely. In the water garden in front of the temple was a white egret, strutting on his stilt-like legs between the shrubs. People kept calling it a crane though, and maybe the egret fancied himself a crane because the way it withstood the noise and movement of the crowd, I think it knew exactly what it was doing.

By the time I rode the bus back to the heart of Kyoto, I was feeling peckish and decided to get some pickles before going back to the hostel for a shower. And then I met Mr. Peanut.

I was walking by the stands and found a peanut stand. As the proprietor plopped two peanuts into my hand, he asked in perfect English, "Where ...are...you from?" I said Washington, D.C., just because it's easier than explaining Maryland.

"D.C.!" said he. He then recited a good part of the Declaration of Independence and together we hummed a little of the anthem, saluting each other as people walked by, regarding these two nuts.

He loves America. "It has many...fine qualities. The population of Japan...is detrimental...to economic stability. America...it's big!"

True, I said. But Japan is also very beautiful. And safe! No guns, right?

He shrugged. Guns are still here. We both know it.

We said our goodbyes and wished each other a good day. By then, I was starting to feel tired, so I went back to the hostel to take a shower while everyone was still out. When I left the hostel again, I had one goal in mind: spot geisha.

About 7pm, I ducked into a noodle shop and got the bowl of vegetable udon that sank the Titanic. To work it off, I made my way up to Gion. I was about to round the corner to the alley when a business man walked around towards me and I had to step out of his way. But I was shocked to realize with him was a beautiful geisha! She wore a kimono in several shades of blue and a red and pink obi. She was on tall lacquered shoes, but she was still no taller than either the business man or myself. I didn't even have time to pull out my camera before they were gone. But I'd seen my first geisha! I'd been so close to her and I was both startled by her sudden appearence and stunned by the ornamental beauty of her clothes and makeup!

Around 8:45, I found myself outside a teahouse. I happened to look through the slated gate and into the open door in time to watch a young geisha in full hair and kimono and ghostly makeup pick up her phone to use it as a mirror while she touched up her eyes. The ancient world of the geisha and the tiny flat technology in her hand was a shocking clash of two worlds.

I stood outside the house, sure that someone would come out or go in. While I stood to the side away from the door, three other tourists noticed me. I told them to take a quick look, but when they looked in, the mamasan of the house was blocking the view. From time to time, they'd ask me "Is that the geisha?" but it would just be a maid or someone in a yukata.

Then a geisha approached from the alley across the street! One of the other guys took out his phone and began taking pictures quickly as she dashed past. At one point, he stuck his phone almost against her head and as she slid the gate shut she pressed it against the bars for one last shot.

I couldn't help it. I told him he should be more respectful. He brushed me off and showed me the pictures he got. While one was certainly very nice, I still disapprove of the manner in which he got it. I understood then why she'd been so quick (impressive considering how tight kimono are and how those shoes restrict much movement) and avoided looking up. For the rest of my time there, I kept a distance but tried in vain to get some pictures of geisha and maiko as they dashed and darted into tea houses. They are slick! And while I may not have any pictures to show off, I'll have those images in my memory forever.

Where in the World is Marta Senn-Diego? Part the First

Title no longer pending, my adventure has already begun!

Yesterday (wow, was it really only yesterday??) I unloaded the last of my junk on a new teacher in Kitakami (incidentally, named Marty...go figure), shelled out a few thousand yen to cover my water, gas, and electric bills (the water guy came on Friday, but said he'd leave it on for another day so I could clean...guess who camped out in her apartment under a towel that night?) and I was on my way!

Day 1, Tokyo. I was waffling about what I'd do for the night. It's still not warm enough to sleep outside comfortably, despite all the layers I had on: for the record, silk tights, a silk undershirt, jeans, 2 pairs of socks, a sweater, a jacket and my coat. And I didn't want to spend money on a hostel or hotel. I just figured I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

I got to Tokyo at a pretty reasonable hour, around 3pm. It was a little overcast when I arrived, but at least it wasn't 4th circle-of-Hell-hot like it was the first time I went! By the time I dropped my bags off in a locker and made my way up to Asakusa, the weather had cleared. It was still cool, but the clouds were dissipating nicely (I use words like that so I sound like I can still speak English without making informative gestures). My first stop was the restaurant supply store district. Yes, there are stores that sell woks and pots big enough to bathe in. There are knives that can peel a cranberry or cut the head off a gigantic tuna. But there are also the glorious and beautiful sample foods.

What a tease!

I treated myself to a couple magnets: a shrimp tempura and a matcha taiyaki. But they sold everything from phone charms to lifesize samples worth up to a hundred dollars or more. But looking at the quality and the craftsmanship, you understand the price. When a glass of beer looks like it's dripping frosty ice or that grilled fish might as well be begging for it's life, $80 doesn't seem that unreasonable.

You've granted your last wish, Nemo

When I arrived at Senso-ji, I was happy to see that summer time isn't their only busy season. The rickshaw drivers were sprinting through traffic like always and vendors were calling people to their stands as loud as ever.

If I could give a tip to anyone planning on taking a trip somewhere very popular, I'd say don't stop where everyone else is taking pictures. Chances are, you're going to get a few shots with a lot of people's selfie sticks and iPhones in the lower part of your picture. Instead, go around. Find an angle nobody else appreciates and make it your own.

The avenue leading from Kaminarimon to Senso-ji temple was just as lively as it is in the summer! Walking up and down the streets, you take in the bright lights, the high voices shouting the stalls' specialties, the water smell of cut flowers, the salty tang of senbei wrapped in roasted nori.

All around, there were men and women dressed in yukata and kimono for no other reason other than it's spring, school's out and the sakura are starting their nationwide bloom.

Hope is a universal language

I walked to the eastern part of the park grounds where a small children's kabuki stage was being dismantled. Across the gravel courtyard from all this action was a small temple and inside I noticed there was a wedding being performed! Not the Westernized version: I could see the girl wearing the white kimono and large headdress! I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and watched. I guess as I stood there, I attracted some attention because before long, more and more people were coming over and looking into the temple too.

Eventually, some taxis arrived and parked to escort the wedding party to the formal dinner. I wanted to stick around and get some photos of the bride and groom but after 15 minutes, I decided I wanted to keep moving. Who knows how long it would have been. I did get a picture of the bride's shoes. Does that count?

So by this time, the sun was going down. Time to explore Akihabara! I considered going back to Shinjuku again to relive my pancake epiphany, but Shinjuku was far...I didn't want to make the extra trip back to Tokyo Station in the morning, blah blah blah. Akiba and it's neon lights it was!

The last time I was there, I was there almost begrudgingly because I was dragged exclusively into game shops and UFO machine centers. I love exploring UFO centers (the prizes are always outrageous or super cute), but I wanted to see the seedier side of Japan, too. This was my opportunity.

Without much of a game plan, I decided to start at one end, work my way up the street, cross the road and go back down. The first place I stumbled into? An "adult store." Six floors of DVDs, books, costumes, whips, gags, lotions, potions, dolls and dildos, many of which were accompanied by large and graphic instructional posters hanging behind them on the walls. Six. Floors.

After that bit of entertainment, I hit the bricks again. For a few hours, I just trolled the street, popping into stores, looking at merchandise, stopped at a cafe for a bite and to charge my phone (bless this country and it's glut of sockets), and basically killed time while I decided where I was going to sleep. As I mentioned, it was too cold to stay outside and I know my grandpa would absolutely lose his mind if I slept on a park bench.

I was running on 5 hours of restless towel-blanket sleep and train dozing, so the pounding headache and slight nausea at 11:30 convinced me to find an Internet Cafe and sleep there. I haven't actually been in one before, but I had heard they were like halfway houses for men with nowhere else to go. I find that hard to believe because they're kind of pricey. Not terrible enough to keep me away, but unreasonable enough to call it a shelter for the destitute.

Bed, Sweet Bed

This place was nice. You don't pay until after you check out because it's a by-the-hour establishment. And everything is included in that price! Drinks, food, internet, massage chairs, the lounge, the bank of gaming computers where a small army of wide-eyed WoWers or whatever the kids are into these days, sat with steely-eyed determination. There are also magazines and manga if that's your thing. My thing was getting a cubicle and crashing for about 6 hours. It wasn't the most comfortable, but it was a reclining chair, four walls, and legitimate blanket. I was happy to cocoon like that until dawn.

In the morning, I paid my fee and made my way back to Tokyo Station to collect my bags and head for Kyoto!