No Plan Japan 32 : Barefoot Jungle

At 7am the loudspeakers spread throughout the city, presumably for storm warnings and such, let out music befitting some kind of Godzilla franchise, letting the people know that rest was now no longer on the table. I was already awake however, the drunk man snoring so bad I could barely maintain calm even as I prayed for sleep.

So, I packed light, left the hostel and loaded up on a liter of 7/11 brand black coffee, a liter of ion-water and my bag of walnuts. Should be enough for a small jaunt into the unknown, right? One rarely if ever appraises the task at hand with much accuracy, and how else could it be? Missing all the variables from the start as we do. Nevertheless I set a basic path through the woods and began walking.

Before taking even a single step up vertically I was engulfed by the sounds of insects buzzing about everywhere. The heat of the day combining with the beating of their wings. As I took the first step up the mountain I noticed mosquitos the size of bumble bees veering away from the swamp and heading right for me, so, like any sane person I picked up pace. I imagine it was much harder for me to climb that hill at such a pace than it was for them to float around me while I did so, and even though a few landed on me, I shook them off until getting a few hundred feet up, and they thinned out.

I passed by a large museum of sorts which doubled as a campground. The place seemed very private, and even though I wanted to explore it, I didn’t feel like paying any money to do so. Thus, once stopping to pet a caged animal, a pig I believe, I kept on moving up the jungle hillside. Eventually I came to a wonderful road which weaved back and forth through jungle and cliffside, letting light bleed in through the leaves and create long stretches of jungle canopy.

When the road split between East and West I took the Western route and when that turned down the hill again, I found a tiny path which was more jungle than anything else, requiring me to hunker down on all fours, and push aside bush and vine until able to stand erect again. Though I would go back and forth between both pastures the entire time. The ground was so full of water that wearing my Shimano boat shoes was not really a good idea, so I took them off and wore then on my hand so I could use them to block the endless spider webs blocking the path, while my other free hand had a stick in it for protection against whatever creatures there were, and also to plum the depths of the water I slugged through.

I lost my way more than a few times, as my GPS was no longer working in any meaningful way. I even felt pretty scared of getting hurt or losing my way out there. The trail was clearly only used once a month or so by powerline companies. Something could happen to me out there and no one would ever find me. That’s the risk we all take going alone into nature, and it is part of who we are, explorers. Eventually, after 7 hours of hiking I found my way to the road again and I was glad for it.

It should have been easier to descend the mountain rather than go up, but because of the endless array of sharp sticks, rocks and the like hitting my bare feet, it was a painful and slow process to reach the main part of town again, and like any great fool I decided to continue walking for another two hours afterward, going up the coast to places I could see but had not been. I reached the large rock barrier lodged in the ocean and sat for a long while watching the sun go down. When I found my mouth going dry I found a little shack along the main road where I got mango sherbert ice cream with goji berries, pumpkin seeds and pineapple juice, very good.

I headed back to the hostel, rain threatening to drench me. I found the girl from last night and we struck up a convo as we had dinner, which for me was spicy ramen with cucumber in it. I have to stop eating these spicy things, they are not good for me in anyway. Anyways she had also climbed the mountain but gone on an official trail and not even a third of the time I had, but her pictures were really something. I fell into bed, alone in my dorm, the smelly drunk no longer there to keep me awake..

 

 

 

No Plan Japan 31 : Bed Bugs, The Dubai Beauty & Yanburu

I woke up riddled with bites from bed bugs or something, my flesh itchy and sore, it was terrible. I went downstairs to complain to the front desk and he didn’t believe or understand me, maybe both, and offered to change the sheets for 600 yen instead of moving me, since the hostel was booked. I was too miffed to say anything I just shook my head and walked off. I felt cheated, and ignored in my suffering, all the things that go through our minds as were suffering and others do not, or cannot care enough to even believe us.

I needed to escape the hostel, so I went to one of the highest rated vegan friendly restaurants in town. The place was called Zorba, a mix of Greek and Indian food, I had been there last night and really enjoyed it. I sat one seat away from a beautiful Russian looking woman, but said nothing despite wanting too. When a group of people came in needing seats I suggested we scoot over, which she was willing to do, but the group backed out of staying there and we kept our places.

It was then that I asked what she was having and we hit it off in conversation, very quickly discovering the fact that we were on similar paths spiritually, though she’s had it much worse than me, having been married to a very rich and powerful Muslim man from Dubai 14 years ago, and has been trying for 10 years to get a divorce and go back to Ukraine, but her husband will not allow it. They had been very much the same when they met, partying and eating everything, but then she had a spiritual awakening and no longer partied or ate meat, and thus felt completely out of place and alone in Dubai.

We finished our meal and she asked if I would walk with her for a while after, and of course I did. There was attraction between us but it was the kind of, two ships passing in the night, scenario that one learns to enjoy even though very little happens. Like a fine wine one inhales yet does not truly taste. A promise and a thrill without any of the accompanying accoutrements of relationships which we all know so well. Finally we finished our walk and I gave her a link to my blog and website, then we parted ways, the drizzling of rain causing our outlines to vanish into the night.

The next morning I hopped on a bus and went north several hours to a place called Yanburu, the tiny town at the extreme north of the island where very little existed or went on but was perfect for getting away from it all. I was late by 30 seconds to my next bus, running to the station with my packs, but the next one was only 25 minutes away. I sat at the station waiting, watching as bus after bus came and went. Finally I made it to Yanburu, the bus dropping me off at the very last stop next to the hostel itself before heading South again. Being dropped off that way is the kind of feeling that can only happen in tiny towns at the edges of the world. When the doors close and the wheel spin away, all that remains is you, and the last stop in civilization.

The hostel was massive compared to all others I’ve been in thus far, a six story building which was clearly important and much better attended when it was built in the 1970’s. Now it was a far cry from its beginnings, yet still impressive, as the interior design choices, rock wall, pool table, cafe and writing/reading zone all in the lobby being good examples of what I mean. The staff was sparce, yet incredibly knowledgeable and spot good English. The hostess suggested a beach nearby and I went straight for it.

Within minutes I was passed by dozens of elementary school children who all spoke to me in broken English, asking me where I was from and what my name was. Even now, 80 years after obliterating their country and occupying it, the Japanese still show such love and interest in Americans. I have mixed feelings about the entire affair, as anyone who views history from all sides will, and must, if they are to be objective. Japan modernized in order to prevent itself from being a vassal to another empire, and then when America cut off its oil because it was becoming too strong, Japan became an empire to secure their growth, and thus world war 2 happened. When one realizes how empires actually function, one see’s through the bitter edges of narrative which entrenches itself into every slice of history.

Once passing the school children I soon found myself all alone on a long stretch of sandy beach. Not wanting to get my shorts wet, as they were actually sweat shorts not designed fro swimming, I stripped naked and ran into the water. It was cool and the salty water was soft and calming. I got back to shore, put my clothes on, and began picking up trash to add to the massive bags of it which the locals manage on their own. Like all islands there are certain places where trash collects due to the currents of the ocean, and this part of Okinawa fits the bill.

I went for a long walk and was approached by a crazy looking Japanese woman who handed me a bag of already opened treats, she stroked my hair opening and said.

“Like Jesus...”

“Yes...” I said, with a smile, and was tempted by her cigarette far more than the treats she offered, yet I resisted both. I can’t imagine Christ taking a drag of Marlboro lights with the common lunatic, but then maybe that’s exactly where you’d find JC.

I walked around the peninsula and got some snacks before coming back to the hostel. There I met a nice Spanish lady who was beginning her journey with Psychedelics and we chatted a long time about my journeys with Ayahuasca in Peru, which she was going to do soon.

Once we concluded our talk I went to bed and was ruthlessly kept awake by a pounding and pulling at the door, I finally realized it was someone trying to get inside it, I opened it and the very essense of a homeless drunk faced me on the other side. It took 15 minutes of him trying and failing to appologize to me and find his way to bed before his chain saw snoring finalized our relationship. I could have killed the man...

 

No Plan Japan 30 : Doomed to Die

It rained heavily all night and into the morning, but I left my $3.00 umbrella on the plane; nothing seems to go together better than fresh rain and hot coffee though. I knew it was time to move and such times are never peaceful, especially when fueled by black bean and adrenaline; if anything it’s like picking up a painting stroke by stroke and moving it to another canvas while both you and it are on fire. Ain’t that something to think about? We are all expressions of our experiences, and nothing experiences itself more uniquely than humans do especially for the fact that we live in so many different places and in different ways.

Once out of the old hostel, I dropped off my bag in the next one paying a 400 yen fee to keep it there, then heading up the highest mountain in the islands capital city where the final stand of the Imperial Navy took place in 1945. As I hiked up the hill a storm blew around me, dark clouds gathering at the edges of the island. It rained here and there, but did not threaten to soak me until reaching the top of the mountain. I entered the glass dome protecting the old entrance to the bunker which became a tomb for over 4000 men who fought bravely even to the point of running out of all ammunition and committing group suicide beneath the earth when no other means of fighting remained to them.

As I passed the gift store and entered the old bunker, a coldness which cannot be explained by temperature began to affect me like the hand of death itself reaching up from the depths of the tomb. One does not enter a place of blood and sacrifice such as this and leave unmolested. Every inch of the walls spoke of a hopelessness matched only by the ferocity and skill by which they met their doom. As I walked out of that bunker the rain continued to fall, more fully than it had all day or night, but then stopped suddenly as I left, leaving me dry as I descended the mountain.

I found a small store and got some snacks to eat then found a park. There, I was approached by two Japanese men, both of which struck me immediately as overly friendly, compared to those Japanese people I’ve met thus far at least. They were very interested in what I was doing in Japan, and told me of many places to go, but as usual they were mostly based on eating meat and drinking beer, thus useless to me. But one of his suggestions I did follow, and it led me to a beautiful vista overlooking the ocean.

I checked into my new hostel and went to the community room where a guy was playing videos on his phone at full volume, I sat right next to him and leaned in, laughing at the screen, and enjoying it more fully than he could possibly enjoy anything in life. He became very guarded and pulled his phone away, I frowned, motioning for him to bring the device back closer. He started cracking his knuckles and I laughed out loud and shook my head.

“You play for everyone, you share with everyone.” I said, and gave him a death stare as I walked away.

I didn’t want to pay the 200 yen for a towel rental but did anyways. I was super sweaty from the walking, plus my capsule was up on the 4th floor and super hot, inside a room with 50 other men in capsules exactly the same as every other made of particle board and single ply fabric. I didn’t much like the place, so getting out was my priority. I took a bus to the western end of the island, though I had thought of renting an E-bike, in hindsight that would have probably been best, considering the 80 stops required to make it there.

Instead, I took the bus and had one of those forehead slapping moments twice in a row where my Suica card did not work on the island, and I required exact change in order to pay for the bus. Luckily there were two local ladies who paid my first fair, and even after that I had another bus which would could not break my 10,000 yen note and thus I gave them what I had, which wasn’t enough, and he let me go inside a place to buy a drink and give him the right change.

From there I busted out a very large bag of potato chips and began eating them on the sidewalk, a Japanese lady looked at me with wide eyes.

“All for you?”

“Yes.”

“Too much!” She said with a smile, “Where you go?”

“I go swimming, down there.” I pointed on the other side of the mountain some miles away.

“On foot?”

“Yes.”

“No. Too far. Take bus.”

“I’ll be fine.” I said, walking away. Famous last words.

I noticed right away on my google maps that there was a tiny trail leading away from this totally random mountain bus stop with a strange government building there. I took the trail just off from the main road and was immediately surrounded by the jungle. Every step I took brought me further away from civilization and more into a movie set for Jurassic park. Even the infrastructure on this path looked like it had been built in 1945 and abandoned immediately afterwords. It was creepy, but I felt mostly safe for the fact that there were houses interspersed along the jungle path which was obviously once a lovely mountain pass for bikers, walkers and such.

Eventually I found my way to the place suggested to me by the two Japanese gentlemen in the park. A lovely winery and cafe on the cliffs edge overlooking the bay. There was nothing even remotely vegan for me to eat, so I had an iced coffee and mango juice for 1,000 yen. Which I consider expensive, but in reality is not for such a place. I’m learning only now in later life just how I should value certain things over others. The prodigal penny-pinching Prince has finally returned home.

From there I had one of those crazy red bull clones which taste like battery acid and look like neon piss. That got me twisted, and once the 10 minutes of jitters passed I slumped down to the ocean where there was a 1940’s Miami beach resort  with a rock wall enclosure for swimmers. There was even music playing from SpongeBob, a real bikini bottom mind fuck. I got in my boxers and took a swim, air drying as I was surrounded by high school children having an excursion together.

I got a bus back to the city and took another shower with my $1.30 rental towel, trying but failing to sleep in what would become one of the worst bed bug situations I’ve ever experienced...

 

 

No Plan Japan 29: Okinawa Obituary

In the morning I left a voice message for my mom and sister about the system of silence that pervades the entirety of Japanese culture. How, in any and all events, even in ones specifically designed for people to talk openly, the guardrails are always in place, and even if true communication is made, acknowledging it afterword is taboo or somehow a dishonor. One may express themselves, if there is no other option, yet that expression exists forever more inside a vacuum, allowed to be, but never to be seen or heard beyond that. For the Japanese its normal, even as it crushes them everyday of their lives they keep it going, while the average Westerner is obliterated by it instantly, and does not recover even after having accepted it for what it is.

I headed for the airport and flew to Okinawa with inspiration and joy in my heart. I landed and immediately was blown away by just how tropical the islands are. Its truly hot and humid here, the flowers are next gen. That was how the city felt and the people were far different as well, much more open and outgoing, just warmer in general. Which was funny because I had more than one Japanese person up north shake their collective heads at the southerners.

“Not Japanese.” They said. If that’s the case I’ll take it, I was getting frostbite from the chilling behavior of the northerners, I could go for a change of pace.

The hostel I stayed at was a multi-floor baseball diamond shaped building butressing a river which had clearly seen things which can never be unseen, and it showed in the face of everyone within the vicinity. Like a visual trauma que, the area itself was a living scar of what this building is and had been since god knows when. Each floor was seeped in sin baked into it by the heat of the tropics. A story wrapped in an adventure lost to the everyday attempt to forget the reason you exist there, and for the purpose of keeping Japan in a constant checkmate since the end of the war.

You see, Okinawa was a special case for ending world war 2, as it was the place America and the allies first landed, and used it as a base to attack every inch of the Japanese mainland. It was also completely owned and operated by America long after the war, which is why the northers say Okinawa is not Japan. It would not take me long to see what they meant, and although I accept their point of view, I see much to like about them in general compared to the northern variants.

On the other hand I also noticed that there is definitely a different aura for the land and people here. Okinawa was once its own kingdom, now its nothing but permanent open wound for not one nation, but three. A theme park of suffering and sadness for the conquered and the conquerors alike. If only people could see that such wounds are all around us, in every stretch of land, etched deep within every human heart.

I met a girl in the hostel who needed help weighing her bag.

“You think this is more than 7 Kilos?” I lifted it.

“Yes.” She sighed. She was flying Jet star and they don’t play around with the weight game. I saw them running guests down in the airport to shave ½ a pound from each bag.

The girl told me about her MIT professor and a famous student he had which were in the Anarchist realm, always interesting to hear about all the different groups that are doing things their way to reach the same end. She also told me about a cool hostel on the northern end of the building she enjoyed, and since the hell pit we were in was full I booked a few days there instead. By the looks of things on Google maps there’s very little going on there, being remote as it is, but its beautiful.

I found a Star Bucks and got a jet-black tall cup with a sugar donut. Jacked, unable to stand still I set out on the town and explored the main strip front to back before landing in a Mos Burger where a soy burger and fries awaited me, anything to cut the caffeine crazies crawling through my skin.

Mom sent me a bunch of pictures from my dad who passed away from cancer in 2006, almost 20 years ago. It blows my mind that he’d been dead longer than I knew him. It’s the kind of thing that you can never understand until its already happened to you for a long time. For time is the key to the feeling. Like a spice in and of itself for experience. I wrote a little message to my father in my journal, it reads.

“Dear dad, I love you so much. I’m so grateful for all you did for me, and with me. You’re a great man. You deserved better from me. I am a strong man because of you. I’m a free man because of you. You’re in my heart, always, your son, Daniel Maddox.” I’ve never written anything like that before today, and I feel at peace with my father in ways which I never did before. I suppose it says a lot about my growth, anyone who knew me in the dark ages of youth would find even such an admittion tantamount to self-betrayal, given my hatred and anger in those days.

In truth I’ve worn a mask not of my own creation for so long that taking it off feels just the same as tearing of my own face, but I began this process long before, and just like quickly removing a band aid to avoid the slow pulling of flesh from flesh, I’ve accustomed myself to the removing of falsity from my being. To the point where now, even with all I know is still before me to learn and grow, I feel more myself than the mask I created to shield me from the world. My experiences with my father prepared me to endure any pain, both physical or mental, it is only the emotional damages which has taken me this long to address, having never developed the skills to face them before.

My life is the sum total of all other lives. Yet no lives total more than those of my parents and siblings. To you, I give thanks. For you, I live thankfully.

 

No Plan Japan 28 : Smoke break

I wanted to go to two more places in the region before going south again, and the first is a mountain temple west of Sendai known as Yamadera. The train ride to get there was lovely, I saw tons of fresh water and ice in the mountains, and the tree’s were still very green and full of foliage. Sadly the place was closed because the ice made it too dangerous to climb the temple, but the train ride there and back to Sendai made it worth the trip. Yet there was more to see.

One of the only people I met in my Sendai hostel told me of a fairground filled with cherry blossom blooms, so I took a chance on a late train and headed that way. It was out of the city center for sure. I think I had to pass 12 stops to reach it. I got there just as the sun went down, took pictures, had corn on the cob for 500 yen and ran to the top of the mountain where the old fortress once stood. It was a lovely little spot filled with lovers trying to steal away some kisses in the safety of the night.

The train left Sendai and as I looked behind me, I knew I had just altered the course of my life in two short days. I don’t often get such inspiration, but when I do get it, I feel it completely, and as should you! I’m telling you to live, but not without direction, with your passions leading the way! I tried and failed to get back into my capsule hotel, this is peek season for everyone in Japan now and for the next many days, that’s why I’m going South. So I found another spot, one more expensive but in a nicer part of town.

As soon as I got into my dorm room a young Chinese man named Yuning came up to me with a smile.

“Want to have a beer?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Want to smoke?”

“I don’t smoke.”

“Want chocolate?” This series of questions were all rapid fire and without reflection after which one was asked, as though he were expecting to keep offering me things and be refused. At the last I finally stopped short, regarding the Kinder chocolate I knew so well from childhood back in Germany. It’s not Vegan. I knew, but part of me felt compelled to take the sweet brick. And another something compelled me to go out of the hostel with him and smoke. We asked an old Japanese lady where it was appropriate, and she ushered us under the overpass where a stream flowed. The young man opened a fresh pack of Seven-star mild filter less cigarettes and handed me one.

“It’s been a long time since I smoked one of these.” He smiled and nodded knowingly.

“What do you do?” he asked, blinking at the smoke as much as through it.

“I work on bikes.” I said, taking a drag of the cigarette. It was powerful. I coughed.

“You?”

“I work on the internet.”

“That’s a big job.”

“Biggest.”

“How’s that going?”

“I hate my country.” He said out of the blue. “Hate what they’ve done to our minds. With the internet.” It was my turn to nod knowingly.

“My country is doing the same with our minds.”

“Our country worse. I want to be free.” I nodded.

“How old are you?”

“19”

“38” I said, his eyes popped.

“You look much younger.”

“Fighting the world keeps me young. One day all governments will end, and humanity will be free.” I said. He nodded as though having heard this all before, which shocked me deeply. Usually It takes me a long time, if ever, to get people to see this fact.

“Yes. That is the destiny of all governments.” He said, and I liked that, having never heard it from an Asian person, and from very few people in general. It made me want to have a drink with him, as I know we would have much to say, but the cigarette and chocolate were more than enough. We found our way back to the hostel and went separate ways for a time.

I went to buy my ticket to Okinawa and from there to Taiwan. Once that was done I had dinner with Juning and went to sleep. The next morning I checked out, saying goodbye to the Chinaman, he and I embraced, I could feel him shacking through his t-shirt, I wonder why? Was he nervous around people in general, or was this all so very new and exciting for him? I try and place myself inside my 19 year old self, hugging a foreigner I just met in a foreign land, talking about conspiracies and the impossible yet inevitable world to come once our nations collapse... It’s like being in a movie, only its really happening.

You know how it is in dreams the moment you realize something’s amiss and not quiet right, you instantly step outside of yourself looking down from a different view and the world can never be the same again afterword. Piercing the viel is like that. Your who you thought you were only so long as its possible to maintain your silly illusion, and then it breaks, and the game is up. Only question is, how long can you maintain your own version? When will enough be enough? Time will tell…

 

No Plan Japan 26 : Black Crow Castle

I decided to take another page out of, Japan Unraveled’s guide, and headed for Okayama, a town famous because of the Castle of crows and its massive garden. The town itself is plain as day, but the castle and the gardens are worth visiting all on their own. What I liked most about the castle was the dark gritty feel mixed so well with the immaculately clean grounds. There wasn’t anything there without a fresh coat of paint and well maintained everything, but because the castle was meant to look foreboding, it did, despite the perfect order the Japanese kept it in. Once paying to enter it and going floor by floor to the top, I saw down below the moat to the huge gardens.

After visiting the wardrobe, aka the shitter, which was the first Toto I’d seen which had a music machine built into it in order to A: Sooth your way to completing business, or B: Sooth the ears of others who are beholden to the noise of said business and would prefer Mozart instead... I used the function just for shits and giggles, of which I had both in spades.

The garden was a joy many tiers above the castle, mostly because it was filled with ponds and people enjoying them, surrounded by animals of all kinds both free to roam and held fast behind high fences. It was a promenade of well-dressed travelers equipped with parasols and picnic baskets enjoying the tree shade and ostriches. A real scene if I do say so myself, but that was it for Okayama.

I returned to my guest house, the first one of its kind that I’ve ever visited in all my Japan adventures, to think I’ve been here twice and never stayed in a traditional home with tatami mates, but not any longer! This place was in the boonies away from the city and it was still 4500 yen, which is expensive in my book, over $30. But the owner was really nice and so were the guests whom I got to know pretty well during the late-night dinner conversation. They were French, Dutch, and Chinese. We talked politics and about my book, I gave out my website, need to do that more often, how else are people going to find out about little old me? The Anarchist who barely exists in the world? Exactly.

If I’m being honest, and I always am, the town exists for a single building, one which existed as a living weapon for the people living there not so long ago. It’s hard to appreciate just how our world has transitioned from a state of total war in the physical, requiring massive fortifications, to one that is even more at war, though now the battles are fought almost exclusively in the mind using 5th generational warfare made possible by the age of information.

Now, in the greatest age of deceit and confusion that ever was, in the ruins of the old world built to maintain order, kept immaculate by the greatest losers in history, the Japanese, who though having lost the most important war ever, still rose to ultimate victory regardless... Here, I walk alone, in a country I have no claim too, wondering about my place, my time, my actions in a world gone mad.

 

No Plan Japan 25: Naga Saga

The ferry back to Kagoshima was different than the one to Yakushima, it’s such a funny thing going the same route in reverse and while on a different vessel, making it almost entirely unique in flavor. The more journeys I make the more this dynamic strikes me. The whole, “you never enter the same river twice,” saying is a mantra for me now. Unlike the first journey days before, there was no movie I recognized playing, but this time I was far more engulfed in playing my Anbernic and reflecting on what had happened to me on the island. I’ve never ridden so far on a bike before, nor have I ever circumnavigated an entire island in a single day, on a bike or even in a car. There’s more to the story though, much more.

I was 13 the last time I truly worshiped God or participated in religion worthy of the name, if you discount the last two decades of shamanic work I’ve done with native tribes across the world from California to Peru that is, which are spiritual as opposed to dogmatic, thus belonging to very different worlds. The last two days have brought up a lot of memories and feelings from 25 years ago which I had not expected to find. It isn’t that I missed the religion, or even felt a sort of nostalgia for it, instead I feel a cruel mix of longing and regret for a different way.

I left the church at 13 because it was impossible to ignore the hypocrisy and institutional blindness which have either corrupted the church, or was its primary operating system since the start. That doesn’t mean that there is nothing to take away from the church, it simply means that the theological clothes which once suited us no longer do, and its time to grow into finer fabrics which both predate christianity and will exist long after its gone.

Back in Kagoshima I got another hotel room in the same place, tried to find one of two vegan options in the whole city, found it, but it was closed, 7/11 to the rescue once again! I booked a Shinkansen ticket to Nagasaki and got some good sleep. The next morning, I got on the train and was soon in the second city of rebirth from nuclear holocaust. On the way I called my former girlfriend Zoe, a fiery Taiwanese woman who could have been the one, if only I wasn’t out of my damn mind and allergic to long term commitments in my misbegotten youth. 15 minutes later, I had a plan to meet her in Taiwan during a once in a lifetime journey, an army of people marching for days without end for the pain and the glory of the fishing goddess.

The rest of the train ride was rather plain compared to my talk with Zoe, but exiting the doors I found Nagasaki to be a very beautiful place surrounded by tall rounded mountains much like those in Hao long bay, Vietnam. Unlike Hiroshima it has an inlet straight into the main portion of the city and the Japanese navy has a large presence there with some of the newest fully automated warships which are able to take on entire fleets without human crew to guide it.

The hostel I checked into was pretty cool, it had a great kitchen setup and I bought udon noodles, natto, okra and spices from 7/11, cooked them up together and was impressed by the outcome. I met many people there, and even talked with them about seeing some of the city, but as always, my lone wonderer nature took hold and I jetted across the city at random, locking on to the Glover compound, one of the most famous Westerner families in Japanese history, as they had helped modernize it back in the 1800’s. Their house was clearly very expensive for the time it was built, and given all the photos of their interactions with the Japanese at that time they seemed very much out of place.

I went into some shops outside the compound and found a Japanese flag patch which I bought and the owner said I would return one day. Always nice to have that said to you, even if it is within a financial interaction. I tried and failed to find a single vegan restaurant and went home with some rice balls and apples instead, always a winning combo and available everywhere.

I slept fine and in the morning I took the trolly to the Nagasaki bomb museum, now this place was far different than the Hiroshima museum, smaller, underground, and creepy. You had to descend a spiral staircase beneath a large skylight and as soon as you entered the main doors you were subsumed by the sound of an old clock ticking loudly. Tick tok, tick tok! And as you walked you saw images of Nagasaki frozen in time the moment after the blast, a hellscape kept preserved forever beneath the place it happened all those decades ago.

I left that museum feeling terrible, just as in Hiroshima, only this time the ticking of its clock frozen in time beneath the earth remained within me too. I hear it even now, and perhaps that is best, for in our time the threat of nuclear war is more likely every day. Coming up from that spiral staircase was like being reborn, and perhaps I was, time will tell...

 

No Plan Japan 24 : The Trinity Effect

I slept pretty well, though I did require ear plugs against the snoring. Luckily most hostels in Japan offer them for free at the front desk along with an assortment of items travelers often find themselves lacking; brushes, toothbrush and paste, towels, hand sanitizer, the works. The earplugs were all I ever need or take, though I have tried the others and always feel bad using single use items which are barely past perfectly new before hitting a trash heap.

I met Spike in the morning, the other American from California whose travelling with Ryan whom I met and talked God with last night. We agreed to meet in town and hike the top-rated mountain on the island. They had their own rental car, which was filled to the gills with their luggage, which was enormous compared to my own, so I took the bus instead.

I found a coop store which had lots to offer and filled up on snacks and drank a full liter of juice and felt so good I was giggen with myself and the birds who I was singing with and enjoying myself fully. The boys showed up in their car, much less stuff now, and we drove up the mountain to the trail parking lot, chose to go barefoot the whole way and charged up the mountain together. It was a little slow at first but once we got past the first gravel portion and metal grated bridges to the thick, old growth soil and mud in the woods we were free to run.

My companions told me of themselves, of how they were both in the UFC and had come to Japan to fight in their own league, one that is similar to the UFC but is entirely owned by the Japanese and is a much different organization in practice, plus they can be paid in cash. They also told me their plans for God in the world, starting their own churches, one with martial arts as the main theme, and another more traditional in form. These men were 23 and 27 years old, but built like tanks. They thought I was their age, but I was older than both by 11 to 15 years.

It was a marvelous experience for more reasons than it being a recharging hike in the woods, that much was certainly true, especially doing it barefooted, but the fact that we were three men, mostly strangers, meeting in a strange land in a stranger island known for its connection to the gods, and all of it wrapped in a level of religious observance I have not experienced since 2001 when I last considered myself part of the church.

Now when you see UFC fighters beat their opponents into pulp and come to the microphone afterward to thank God, I almost always dismissed it as part of their persona, and surely it is, but what I experienced with Spike and Ryan showed me this is a real thing, it isn’t fake for everyone, for we prayed and read the bible, talked about passages and conversed with each other about their meanings, about whether or not we were really damned for some things and not for others, such as being homosexual. My stance was that it isn’t evil, it just doesn’t lead to the most profound life we are all meant to have, with a family of our own.

As much as I have come to abhor religion and everything about it in my youth, I found something there with those men, huddled together in prayer, that I know only exists in such a framework, and feeds the humans desire for meaning and comfort, community and guidance. It’s why religion has survived this long and why it will continue on until the time humanity has grown up and no longer needs it.

While we were ascending up the mountain a Japanese hiking with a woman man offered us Cannabis, the UFC fighters looked at the man, then at me, alarm bells ringing in my mind. The fact that 1/10th of a gram will land you seven years in a Japanese cell, combined with the fact that the man looked every inch a policeman, made me react casually if not well practiced at diffusing very serious situations.

“We don’t smoke.” I said, and charged past the man.

“You think he was a cop?” Spike asked

“I smelled it on him.” I said.

“Not worth it anyway.” Ryan said. We all nodded.

We ran into our previous hostel guests near the top, they had come from the other end of the mountain earlier that day, and we all rushed down the hill even as night descended fully and we could barely see a thing. Spike jumped in the river naked and got out in time to not be seen by our pursuers. We left the mountain in our car, not sure if the park had been closed and we would not be able to leave, this was a warning given to us by the group we met, but it turned out to be a misunderstanding. The place was closed, but the road was open. We took it to the coast and found a restaurant nearby.

Now I’m no stranger to big meals, but not at places like the one we went, which although nice and all, it was a no chairs, sit on your cushion type deal, but the bill all told with me not having ordered anything was 47,000 yen, roughly $300 US. Those boys could eat and drink! We left the place with a moment of indecision on whether or not I should drive, as I had not drank and they were clearly under the influence. But as I had no license and the campground was close by Ryan drove.

We got into the tents and fell asleep, but not before Spike kept making gay jokes about looking at him naked since he never sleeps with clothes on. Ryan and I just shook our heads.

“Ain’t nobody interested.” Ryan said.

“Nobody.” I agreed, and we all went to sleep.

The next morning we had coffee, read the bible, went skinny dipping in the ocean, my first time being fully submerged in the Japanese sea. It was very cool, but not cold, and the morning light was warm. We blessed our journeys and they dropped my off at the dock where I would be taking a ferry back to Kagoshima, and from there to Nagasaki, the place where the US Military dropped the second sun on Japan...

 

No Plan Japan 23 : Only Fools Rush In

The next morning was checkout. This is NO plan Japan, not, I have lots of hotels prebooked plan Japan, so I was rushed to make a new booking before having to checkout and though I felt it somewhere inside me, I didn’t know in that moment just how much of a mistake I had made. The owner of the place took me to the tourist center where I got the three day bus pass, which is very much worth it if you use the bus system more than 3 times going at least 10 stops each time. The buses however do not run the circumference of the island, which, because of my adventures with the monkey legions and their deer overseers among fallen trees I knew exactly why.

The new place I was to go edged that part of the island where the road became a jungle and was nearly impassable, and had reviews to match.

“Don’t expect a 7/11 or anything, it’s out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Not another building for miles.”

That kind of commentary.

Once I finally got off the bus with all my luggage, which was beginning to be a real pain, I always used to travel with nothing but a single school backpack but this time had a very large and medium size one, I humped into the forest following my GPS, which was often very inaccurate due to the phone being de-googled and thus more private. The hostel wasn’t clearly marked but by the sounds of the people inside I knew which building it was.

As I entered the man in charge asked me for my Passport, I gave it, he did a double take on me, then on my passport, then on the reservation, then back to me.

“Ohh, you’re not a women...”

“No. I’m not.” I said

“I’m sorry, but we have no room for you today. You must go.”

“Excuse me?” I said, sure it was a mistake, “But I made a reservation...”

“Yes, but not as a man, as a woman. As I said, you must go.”

“Refund?”

“No.”

“Choto Matte.” I said, meaning, wait a small moment, and I busted out my pc, since my phone had died, and looked over my reservation, sure as shit, I had accidentally chosen a female only bunk, as the female option is shown first when there is a split gender situation while using Booking.com, this was news to me, and terrible news at that.

Now the mind fucked retard inside all westerners would at this point say something about claiming to be a woman in order to remain at the hostel, I’m rather sure such a thing would not pass muster with the Japanese, and in any other circumstance I would pay to see the ensuing confrontation. This time however I was shit out of luck. I checked booking and either everything was booked or way back in town. I had to pray the man knew of another place.

“Is there another hostel nearby?”

“No. Nearest is far away.”

Far away and the bus id used to get there was the last one running that day, and a taxi would be expensive going all the way back to the docks, that was 35 miles away and night had long since fallen. Images of me humping through the jungle with monkeys trailing behind me for 5 hours came to mind, and I did not enjoy the thought one bit. I waited for the man to finish talking with his guests and approached him solemnly.

“Please sir, I need somewhere to stay. Do you have a bed, or a floor, anything I could use?” He narrowed his eyes at me as though weighing several things at once in his mind and then looked behind himself, turned back to me, looked back once more and blinked.

“You pay again?” I nodded.

“I have covid bed. Not supposed to use.” In my mind this sounded like the last thing a sane person would vigorously nod their heads to, but what was I to do?

“I’ll take it.” He nodded, took my money and lead me to the men’s dorm where there was a perfectly fine bunk bed sitting among the others. Apparently this man was either still under some restriction placed on him by the Government for the covid con job, or he really did like the idea of having less guests and thus less money, either way I took it eagerly then took a shower.

Once done with that I went to the main kitchen area where I got into a heavy and long conversation with a pair of socialist Frenchmen who simply could not come to terms with Anarchy in any way and continuously refused to accept that anyone could own anything, even themselves. It was at the tail end of this discussion that a large, powerful white man of young age entered, and we got to talking as well. He was American and very much religious; he invited me to go adventuring tomorrow, and I said it could be. Ohh and what an adventure it was!

It was then that one of the frenchman, of the non socialist variety, drew my face and gave it to me before bed, “You have the face of a revolutionary.” he told me, shook my hand, and it was time for bed…

 

 

No Plan Japan 22 : The Longest Ride

Before 2022 I hadn’t been on a bike more than a few times a year since I was a child, but after having bought an electric bike and using it as my daily form of transportation; I sold my car back in 2010, I had become more than a little used to being on two wheels, but that didn’t mean I was prepared to ride 65-70 miles in one day... and on one of earths most magnificent islands no less. Yakushima, inspiration for the Studio Gibli film, Princess Mononoke, a global phenomenon and one of the only Japanese anime’s I had ever seen in Theater while in America.

I got up at 6am, bundled myself in all my clothes as it was quite cold, and got together a rag tag collection of chips, water, canned coffees and sugar drinks and headed out in near perfect dark using the headlight built into the bike to guide me. It was at this point that I began to wonder, will not having any fenders for my wheels going to screw me over since the road was still very wet and I was getting a pretty heavy dose of water spinning off onto me? But once the sun really began cooking it was a none-issue.

Now, when I say this island is beautiful, I’m talking Jungle Book meets Highlander 1 on the cliffs of Scottland. This place has wild animals everywhere you look including white tailed deer and hordes of monkeys so thick there’s no way to get through them on the street until they allow you to pass, and allow me they did, for not too long after leaving at 6 am, I’d say around 9 after passing one of the biggest water falls I’ve ever seen, I began to encounter them, at first only at the edges of the forest/jungle, then when the sun came out they began taking all the heavy rays of light they could spreading out on the asphalt to warm themselves from the cold night.

The monkeys were fearless mostly, but the deer were skittish. I even saw a small little monkey run from me, mount a much larger female, fuck her and then dismount screeching at me as it ran alongside my bike. It was the fastest fuck and run I’d ever seen, the female didn’t skip a beat, barely moved. This was the biggest climb of the entire ride, a real challenge even with the bikes electric motor helping me along, as I had set the power to the lowest level, and even turned it off in many places where it was toughest to climb, both for the work out, and to prevent battery drain at unacceptable levels. The Yamaha had a stated range of 200 KM, but I wasn’t going to risk having to ride the last many miles on a dead weight bike which can easily happen if you go max power for too long.

It was on this climb, when civilization had been left behind and the road was washed out with fallen tree’s and heavy foliage that I saw a backpacker walking alone. And boy was his pack huge, you know the type. He could have fit a whole house inside that pack, and probably did. I waved to him, and hours later he passed by me in a 4x4 van, and gave me a thumbs up. I saw him again a short time later walking off down a random jungle road, hope he found a place to stay.

I powered up with another canned coffee from a fending machine half buried in ivy after passing the lighthouse on the cliffs of insanity and burst down the mountain at high speed. Now, trusting oneself is a must, but when you’re riding an untested mode of transportation its always tricky, especially on a rental bike, but as this was Japan, and I knew the bike rental place was top notch, I trusted the bike as much as myself, and it showed.

Seven hours and 30 minutes later I had ridden a complete circle around the island and then some, extending my ride another 2 hours because I still had 50% battery left and wanted to push it to the extreme, setting the power to level 5 for the first time. But before making that final push I went to a local market and bought some Natto and rice, there were so foreigners there and one of them asked me about natto, if it tasted good.

“Well, I like it, I think everyone should try, but it’s an acquired taste. Very good for you!” The money came up and saw what we were discussing.

“Ohh no... I’m not down for that!”

“You have to, it’s part of the experience.” I said and walked off as the husband looked it over and put it down under threat of his wife’s glare.

All told I rode 170 Km or 105 miles, far and away the longest ride of my life. I returned the bike, forgot the lock in the yurt, and the owner and I returned it later after going shopping again together. I thought to myself, now what? I certainly don’t want to get back on a bike, my bodies practically ruined after that ride. So... Well, it was only after choosing my next destination that fate would once again decide for me, and this time in the most unexpected way, making a seriously religious encounter inevitable...

No Plan Japan 21 : Birthplace of Destiny

I had not expected my room to be so noisy, but it was. Up on the 13th floor it seemed all sound generated below hit the outer wall of my room like a cacophony of Babylonic horrors. Drunks screaming into the night, their ladies pulling them back into their arms, sirens and car horns, the ever-present miasma of modernity. Even my capsule back in Tokyo was more insulated from the noises generated by the largest city on earth. I did my best to sleep, but it was not to be. So much for a nice hotel room experience.

Anyways, I went down to the lobby for breakfast, found the restaurant and was promptly refused as I had not paid for a meal ticket. They told me I could pay extra, something like $20 us and I smiled one of those smiles one puts on to let the other person know violence is boiling beneath it, and checked out of the hotel with the grace of a bull leaving a China shop maze, heading straight for the nearest vending machine which was hording caffeine in all its legal forms.

Once coffee was in my system, I stopped feeling so bad and found my way to the dock where I purchased a one-way ticket to Yakushima, which was 6,000 yen, or about $40. Getting on the ferry instantly took me back to playing Pokémon as a child, since you have to board a ship and battle its many guests in order to be able to move forward. So many things in Japan remind me of that game, which is appropriate as the game was created by Japanese people, for Japanese people. Something which only becomes more obvious the more time I spend here. Not just the visuals either, but the interactions you have with all the characters.

That being said the ship actually smelled like diesel fumes which also took me back to a less than savory time in life working on my dad’s salmon troller in the Monterey bay, which, when combined with rough seas created the perfect storm of discomfort, the results of which are well known and documented in any movie about going to sea. Not only did the fumes and the ship take me back and forth in time, so too did the movie playing for our journey, which of course, had to be Back to the Future II, what a trip. I also used the time to restart Baldur’s gate, this time playing as a Mage instead of a warrior, what a difference that was, especially since I knew how to play. Such is true with all experience in life, the more you have, the less mistakes you’ll be prone to make doing the same things.

Once landing on the island though I did a 180 and fell back on old programming, refusing the ample help of people offering it to me freely and charging into the unknown with all the gusto of a fool, thereby missing the first and second bus which would have taken me right to where I wanted to go, and waiting around in the now oppressive tropical sun for a bus which would not come again for several hours, as they are timed to the coming and going of the ferry. Not only that, but the help I dismissed would have gotten me a bus pass for the duration of my stay which would have saved me a good deal of money.

So, I got some food from a tourist shop and waited at the bus stop where a Chinese man asked me where I was from.

“California.” I told him.

“America.” He said with clear disdain.

“You’re from China.” I said without asking.

“Yes. It is a wonderful place, not like your media lies about.”

“All media lies.” I told him.

He didn’t know what to say to that and got on the bus without another word. I would have joined him too, but I wasn’t sure yet, because of my earlier foolishness in refusing help, which bus to take, so I waited until a local explained it. Even then I failed in getting off the bus at the right stop and had to walk a mile or two before finding my yurt hidden behind a wall of greenery in an easily miss-able driveway alongside the road. The place reminded me of the Renoco Lodge in Peru, a place teetering on the edge of ruin, only a months of neglect away from being swallowed up by the jungle.

There I found the old man with a smartphone around his neck which when he spoke, translated into English using an eerie mechanical woman’s voice. The translation was off as well, which was made more difficult as he cleared his throat constantly and laughed at jokes which were hidden beneath the translation, and as he laughed, he coughed even harder like someone dying of emphysema or bronchitis, which, given the vaccination status of Japan as a whole, could very well be the case. His rules were strict, but manageable once I parsed through the bad translations with the laminated instructions he had nailed to the wall of the yurt. When all the niceties and such were finished, I chose the bunk I wanted, there were six of them, I had the whole yurt to myself.

The owner offered to take me to the store, as the nearest one was too far to get to by foot, and I took him up on it. While in the store he kept pointing out the best meat products to me, each of which I refused until he asked me if I was sick or something.

“I don’t eat meat.”

“Vegan?” he asked with the grace of an executioner offering his victim last words or perhaps a sip of water in the Samurai tradition. I nodded. He cleared his throat again and nodded. “Very difficult.” He said, and walked off to do his own shopping while I found what I could. As this was my first time having access to a kitchen it would be an actual exercise in pre-thought and planning which thus far had escaped me. Once at the counter he added my food to his and took my money, paying for both of us. He looked at me and said, “Local Discount.” And that was the end of it.

Next, he took me to the place I wanted to go, a bike rental shop which had both regular, electric and motorcycles available. The owner suggested the Yamaha 450 which would have been a blast, but as I had no international license that was out of the question, so I went with the mid-drive Yamaha electric bike with a range of over 110 miles on eco mode, something the bikes I rent back home aren’t nearly capable of achieving, yet... I rented the bike for 24 hours at the entirely reasonable price of $53 with a charger, something we charge $75 for back in Monterey, and rode it back to the house while the owner followed behind.  

Once back at the yurt I continued my game of Zelda : A link to the past, the very first Nintendo game I ever owned on the used Gameboy my dad got me from the Swap meet in San Diego when I was like 6. I’ve gotten so much further in the game now then I ever did back then, and what strikes me so hard is just how many life lessons and insights into Japanese culture I never imagined were in the game as a child. I feel like I’m not simply reliving the past, but coming full circle with it and my future at the same time. The Matrix is truly collapsing in on itself.

Tomorrow, I wake up early and test my biking skills to the limit...

No Plan Japan 20 : Isle of the Heavens

I woke up at 7 am planning on returning before 11 when I was to check out and walked to the tram, which took me to the docks of Hiroshima, there I found the ferry which would take me to Miya Jima, the island of heaven and earth just within eye shot of the coast. My rail pass saved me 400 yen, paid 700 total, and it was a lovely passage, most of which I spent on the upper deck watching sun bounce off the calm ocean water.

The island is a magical place with deer everywhere that are so accustomed to people they come right on up to you and nuzzle for food and attention. Coming from a town which also has deer this is quite a shock, as none of them trust us enough to get even remotely close, and considering the hellraisers we are in America, I don’t blame them.

I walked the calm beach barefoot, the first time I’ve touched the sea in Japan, then went for a hike, ascending the mountain at a fast pace, as I’ve been trained to do by my best friend Blake back home, never stopping very long, as the workout is the goal it would seem. It was far different here than in Sabrones, the mountain we regularly climb in Big Sur. Here there are temples and shrines everywhere, and a sense of magic which nature alone cannot produce, a magic which required the hands of people, combined with nature to make manifest.

I had wanted to take the rail line near the top for fantastic views, but I simply didn’t have the time, and descended rapidly, almost getting lost as I took a different trail than going up. I made the ferry by seconds and was able to get back to my hotel with 9 minutes to spare before I would have to pay for another days stay. I had thought I had time to spare to get to the train station, but I had less than half of what I thought, chugged a coffee and vegan donut from Starbucks and ran to the station. Again, making it just in time as the doors closed behind me.

The Shinkansen was very nice, as I had the reserved green car which is the best anyone can get, I suppose $800 should get you something pretty good right? Well, I thought so. On the ride I played and beat Baldur’s Gate Dark Alliance on my fake Gameboy, the Anbernic. It was a great game, pretty difficult, and a throwback to my childhood as so many games are. I have clear memories of playing in the sewers beneath the tavern as a 9-year-old and getting nowhere, as I didn’t have the skill nor the patience to learn a game that difficult then. Not to mention the fact that it wasn’t my game/gameboy, and the boy who did own it was a real asshole and I couldn’t stand him. Chance was his name, or something equally dreadful.

There’s only one other kid I ever knew who was worse, and had a worse name, what was it? Brat. Yes, that’s what it was. Brat and I nearly drowned in Mexico, well, I almost drowned, Brat sailed away safely on the inflatable mattress we were braving the waves on while I nearly died. Only to make it back to shore and be stung by a horde of jelly fish. Then I came back to camp, and my dad told me to piss on myself to stop the stinging. All I wanted was the pain to stop, maybe a hug, meanwhile my sister made necklaces out of captain crunch cereal puffs and sang Disney songs... Yet I digress.

Many hours later I arrived in Kagoshima, the furthest  south one can go in Japan while in the main island chain, where my first private room in a hotel within eyesight of an active volcano spewing smoke awaited me. Now, after living in a pod only slightly larger than a deluxe coffin for weeks this was a massive upgrade, the first thing I did was lay down flat on the carpet. Not the bed, no, that blessing would wait, first I just needed to decompress without breaking the cherry of that sweet, perfectly made bed. Having one’s own space is so precious, and it’s so easy to forget, until you don’t have it anymore. I feel so blessed.

Feeling hungry I searched Happycow.net for vegan options in the city. There were only two. One of which was on another island, and the other I would find out was closed after having finally found it in a dark alley down by the docks. So, I went to a mom and pop grocery stand and got some fruit, the lady gave me an extra apple,

“Service.” She said with smile.

“Thank you.” I said, knowing the trick to good business is good will.

I talked to my mom for an hour, which was nice as I could finally have a decent private convo with her in my room. Then I booked a yurt on the Island I had come this far south to visit, a mythical place which inspired Studio Gibli’s Princess Mononoke. One of my favorite films and worldwide favorite as well. I had no idea then just how magical, and strenuous it would turn out to be...

No Plan Japan 19 - Horror in Hiroshima & Horror at Home

No Plan Japan 19 - Horror in Hiroshima & Horror at Home

I remember deciding to go to this city resurrected from hellfire for multiple reasons, but the most telling I suppose for me was the fact that I needed to feel it. Nothing else would take me to where I needed to be in modern life than going here, to Hiroshima. Where the first atomic bomb was dropped and where the modern age in many respects began, and equally so, when the seeds of its demise were sown. The nuclear age brought with it a slew of nuclear powers, and an Armageddon waiting to happen which no previous age, save those spoken about in the Bhagavat Gita or the Bible, could match it. But if 81 years is enough time for people to forget the horrors of war and of atomic weapons, then surely thousands of years is simply too far in the past to reach the modern mind.

No Plan Japan 18 - Where the Bomb Fell

No Plan Japan 18 - Where the Bomb Fell

Isn't it strange to be pulled in the direction of ultimate suffering? To have something inside you that actually wants to face the hard and ugly facts of life that most everyone else does their best to avoid? But thats just what Hiroshima was for me, a sore spot in reality that needs to be witnessed, and remembered. To be understood as more than just "The place a battle happened..." or, "Where a weapon was used on people." Out of all the choices there were, all the options to see the vast and beautiful places of Japan stretching thousands of miles and across vastly different climates, I knew which place was the most important to see. Not just because I'm a German/American whose families fought against each other in World War 2, but because I'm Human like everyone else, and life on this planet is nothing if not a test of wills sharpened against the brutal reality of our races ability to hate and fear on another.

No Plan Japan 17 : Vegan Death match - A Farewell To Tokyo

No Plan Japan 17 : Vegan Death match - A Farewell To Tokyo

The time had come, and I got a ticket to ride, an expensive one that would allow me to go almost anywhere in Japan at 120-200 miles per hour, and in first class no less. The only real limitation was that I had only 14 days to use this golden ticket, and if I lost it there would be no way to replace it without paying again, which wasn’t going to happen. Now, going from an essentially leisurely existence filling my time going from one amazing ramen house to the next while enjoying the sprawling immensity of Tokyo, to having an unlimited ticket to ride anywhere in the country was a bit daunting.

I had honestly grown attached to the little area of Tokyo two blocks from Ueno Park where I was holed away inside a capsule hotel, surrounded by hard nosed Japanese businessmen whose conversational skills were a case study in minute facial fluctuations and nods of the head. Regardless, the time had come for me to leave my pod and explore the true gems of this ancient land beyond its millions of tons of concrete and plethora of distractions.

No Plan Japan 16 : The Shinkansen Solution

No Plan Japan 16 : The Shinkansen Solution

The days grow brighter in the city and the warmth of it causes me pain, for I know my place is elsewhere and entirely not the same. I Dream of countryside’s filled with green things and happy peoples not filled with dread at daily life, those constantly at war in this concrete colossus of human strife. The dreams I have are of fields and streams unburdened by artificiality, free to roam and to grow as their nature demands in perfect reciprocity. In my waking moments I find peace in the fact that I have done what I came to do in this place, the greatest city on Earth, the one filled with the highest number of dwellers, the perfect population of people set upon its eternal rebirth.

No Plan Japan 15 : Sun Versus Son

No Plan Japan 15 : Sun Versus Son

I've been looking for things to do before finally getting out of Tokyo, the walls are really starting to close in on me here, even after having met some great people and finally going to a party that Tatsuya, the one Japanese friend I've made thus far, threw at this amazing place right on the river. That was a necessary experience for me, really. Even so I cant stay in this megalopolis forever, there's so much to see! Tokyo is cool and all, but if you think its all you need to see in Japan I need to know what you've been smoking?

No Plan Japan 14 : Moving Impulse

No Plan Japan 14 : Moving Impulse

I've been in Tokyo two weeks now, and believe me that's not what I had in mind when first coming to Japan. Actually its the exact opposite. Even without a plan of any kind my heart always longs for the country, the small towns and tight knit communities they foster. I may be old fashioned, but the big cities just don't feel very welcoming to me. Some people love them, thriving off the palpable levels of frenetic energy oozing out of every square inch of concrete and steel, longing to go from one novel excitement to the next. Tokyo is surely that, only times 38 million, and I can feel my inevitable departure from this megalopolis coming, and soon

No Plan Japan 13 : Life After Death

No Plan Japan 13 : Life After Death

"Okay D, so you've died and been reborn to a life that is shiny and new. That's great, but what now? What will you do with all that freedom and time in the sunshine? Any plans to open up shop, get further educated and tie the knot? How about that 401k, isn't life better in old age with a check coming every day? Even with a new lease on life, you'll still have to strive, still have to fight, isn't that right?"

No Plan Japan 12 : The Phoenix

No Plan Japan 12 : The Phoenix

Life seems to haunt us with lessons we are not prepared to meet with grace or the passion often required to rise to the occasion. How so? How can passion and haunting lessons be mixed together in the same sentence? It should be no surprise to any of you that lessons are there for our own benefit, otherwise we'd call them something else, like tragedies. But what could be more tragic than a life without lessons? A life devoid of growth? Such things do exist, and never so much as now, for at the same time we are capable of living lives devoid of choice, following a prescription that one facet of society or culture has set, we are also creating machines with unchangeable programming that act in our world, changing it as programmed. Yet we are not so perfectly static as them, not yet. Our programs can change the moment we recognize them as merely that and chose a different way. 

The Journey Awaits

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