No Plan Japan 40 : The Red String

It’s been a really fucking long and painful road for me where relationships are concerned, and when I say I’m ready to settle down, I don’t mean that it’s time to give up on my ways and start a family, though that’s half true, what it means is that I’m ready to stop treating relationships like stopgaps for my bleeding heart, and treat them as they deserve to be, with the utmost respect and care. Towards this end, while with Zoe in Tainan and visiting one of the many temples dedicated to the Goddesses of love, I placed a red line of string around my hand, and Zoe tied it off, though she was clearly not thrilled at the idea.

Setting a prayer stone (Money) into the receptacle and making the mental and emotional commitment to the ritual, we took our leave of the temple, though it would follow us and me for long after. More on that, much, muuuuccchhh later… Funnily enough I tugged at the string, and it nearly fell off, Zoe chided me, and I told her to fasten it better to assure destiny has a fair shake of it. She didn’t understand that, but then who does?

We had lunch inside a tiny hole in the wall business which was smaller than a shipping container but served meals of such high quality, both taste, presentation and materials, that I could do nothing but shake my head in wonder. So many people are convinced they need a massive operation with tons of capital and support to make things works, and here on the other side of the world, on an island which has been fighting a war for recognition and sovereignty for over 80 years, I’m totally amazed at what one couple have accomplished in 150 square feet of floor space. The desert was so good I made the picture of it my phones screen saver. (And it still is even today in August of 2026)

We went to a bunch of museums on Taiwanese history and culture, I learned a lot I never knew, that’s the thing about museums, so much history consolidated into a single point, and yet so few people interested. Sure, the place isn’t empty, but in Alexander the greats vision for the world before the sickness of empire took him, every citizen would live two lives, one in public, and one in private, yet both with libraries as their fulcrum point. How far are we from that today? When was the last time you checked into a library? Much less did so and lost track of time inside a tome?

Not that I’m defending Mr. Alexander, what exactly was his last name again? Surely not great... Ohh right, they didn’t have last names back then. Wait, things were so different in the past that most people cannot and will not bother imagining it? Yup. That’s where we are. The past is not dead, nor is it alive, it is the receipt for the present no one cares to audit, and not much else save an impulse, a heavy suggestion on what should come next. Yet we are able to break from that mold whenever we wish, it is only ones Will which prevents or ensures it. And what, pray tell, is your Will, dear reader? What is it aimed towards? Do you even know? The question alone, once asked, brings about a certainty of its own, for it is the first act of setting your internal compass.

Exiting the museum we got U-bikes and rode across the city to the beach where a massive festival was taking place. Now, I’ve been around a lot of Asia people, and I’ve never seen them party like this before, it was like a scene from Leonardo Dicaprio’s The Beach, only at scale, jet skis, motorcycles and bunny costume stage performers included.

Passing by all the stands and hawkers we finally made it to a relatively empty stretch of beach where Zoe began playing a unique type of instrument the size of a wafer which you blow over with your mouth and it vibrates, producing something between a flute and a harmonica. It was like a dream. Such a strange melody mixing with a scene I had not seen or been a part of since 2007 when I partied on an Island in South Korea with my University there, a beach filled with Asians, and a handful of token foreigners, only this time I was thee token white guy among a sea of Taiwanese.

“Aren’t you going in?” She said, stopping her music.

“Ehh, I don’t want to have to dry off.”

“Are you serious?” she said, looking at me like a stranger and worse, like a bitch. My face scrunched and my feet took purchase of the sand.

“No.” I said and ran into the ocean. Nothing gets a man’s juices pumping more than a woman asking him if he’s scared. When Zoe and I were lovers back before the end of the world in 2012 I was a madman incarnate. That was the man she last knew, and that was the man I’ve been making peace with ever since. How do we juggle all the various versions of ourselves when each one suited so well at one time, and with certain people? Only to find that we are neither that version or the one we are currently, but something else altogether.

We left the beach on our U-bikes and returned them before going to a bar in midtown. It was there that Zoe had some alcohol and I was tempted but refrained. It’s been 5 years now since I walked away from the bottle, and when Zoe and I were together it had only been two years since I started partying, so I was in the thick of it then. Instead of going backwards I decided to ghost myself into the same state without any substances. Mind controlling myself into drunkenness. Zoe didn’t like that; she thought I was making fun of her. But how else can one see the truth without a blatant example?

When we got back to the hostel Zoe came to me in the middle of the night, her body shaking with the chills. She could not feel her own heartbeat and asked me to check. I did. Placing my head against her bare back and kissing her forehead to check her temperature as my mother had always done. That was... not a good idea. As innocent and diligent as it was… Suddenly we were lovers again in the before time, but it was only a blip, I told her she was alive and well and gave her a hug, we sat in the kitchen a few minutes then went back to bed, returning to dreams which once were, just like us...

The next morning, we departed Hainan to Taichung, the city Zoe and Mili, her boyfriend, live and work in. On the bus I was laughing hard at social posts I was listening to on my headset, Zoe hushed me, and I got the same medicine I gave the man days before. That put me straight. Once there we met with Mili, he and I went on a walk around the city together to get the food. It was on this walk that Mili asked me about my relationship with Zoe.

“Did she tell you we were once lovers?” I asked.

“No. She’s told me nothing. Is that normal for her?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Do you...?”

“No, I have no aims with Zoe.” He relaxed. “And you? Is it serious between you?”

“I can’t tell. She’s so hard to read.” I nodded, knowingly.

I’ve been with a lot of lovers in my day, in both good times and bad, and in the old days I did so as a snake in the grass between them, whispering of eternal life and of challenging God in his own house... Thankfully those dark days are behind me. We made dinner and watched “Open your eyes.” The Spanish precursor to Vanilla Sky, which I really enjoyed, right after we watched season 7 ep 7 of Black Mirror, and boy am I glad I don’t watch T.V. anymore, this stuff is sick as hell! We went to bed in a strange pool of energies, but sleep came fast, thanks to the tiredness of the long Goddess march still hanging on.

The next morning Mili gave me a hug and thanks me before going to work. Zoe and I were left alone to have a very frank conversation about what happened over the last few days as well going over what happened over a decade ago between us, what a recap! What a gift so few get... We rode U-bikes through the city together until reaching the bus depot, we hugged and thanked each other, then I watched her ride off into the city, vanishing in a sea of people, one people, united by a common destiny, a common love…

No Plan Japan 37 : End Game

By now you may have realized that I’m something of a gamer. Not like the people you hear about who play professionally for money, or even the kind who stay up all hours of the night grinding away for the perfect items, though that too was my life, for a time. The games which truly seem to interest me are usually those with the greatest philosophical depth and historical intrigue, even when the history is fake, the intrigues are always the same in most respects where humanity is concerned.

Most fiction is only apt for the reader because it strings along our own human concerns, even if wrapped in alien garb. To this end Zelda, has always been a favorite series of mine, as its childlike themes pitted heavily against adult ones, with an extraordinary mix of music and visuals, created a myth of life and meaning within me which has lived on from the beginning back in the early 90’s, till now.

As I sit here, tears flowing down my face watching the credit’s role on this masterpiece of entertainment, life lessons and the dedication to completion, I cannot help but admit that the idea I had of this game as a child is vastly different than it is now. Before getting anywhere close to the end as a boy, I only knew the mystery, and the horror of the game itself, seeing very little of the many and varied stories locked behind hours of gameplay I was never able to accomplish back then.

Imagine it. Your deeply affected by a memory of something as a child, modeling so much of your worldview on that memory, only to find, decades later, that the memory was only a fragment of a whole you never knew, and now the entire web of connective tissue for that worldview ravels away. Every beginning is just the next step from another end, and I came here to change the script of my past and begin a new future, so even though I feel the weight of that transition weighing heavily upon me, it’s a welcome one, for it can only mean growth from this point forward.

So, like all humans In an overly stressful environment, I found a release valve. Physical exercise. My preferred method? Biking. So, I hired another U-bike and decided to go another direction than before, finding myself in a Jurassic park level geothermal pool astride a mountain with a group of Taiwanese elders no younger than 62. I took off my shoes and socks and dipped my feet in. Immediately I was annoyed by a woman playing a T.V. show on her phone. I held my tongue initially, but when there was a man with a burned leg who wanted in and she told him to fuck off, I told her to fuck off with her phone and she left the pool in a rage while the burned man took her place and everyone smiled.

I continued up the mountain where I found a lovely waterfall with a good amount of water flowing, enough even to swim, but I didn’t feel like riding down the mountain wet. A little further on there was even a chaetae imported from Europe, whose view above the city resembled Europe itself. Going down that massive hill was super-fast and fun, but also dangerous. I was on the highway and clearly not meant to be there. Corvettes, porches and Bently’s blasting past me inches away, as well the horde of cheap cars and trucks. My hands were shaking with sweat and tension when I finally got back to the bottom, and found the bike path along the river again.

At the bottom I found the most highly rated Vegan spot in the area and spent $20 on truffle ramen, lion’s mane tofu burgers, matcha pana cota and grilled veggies, bursting at the seams afterword, very delicious stuff! I still find it hard to believe that the Taiwanese have more Vegan options than most people. I know it’s the capital city and all, but still, I’m impressed. The place is tiny, and inside an old warehouse district famous in Taipei, you would never know it was there unless you were looking. Isn’t that how life is though? Hiding in plain sight, waiting for the curious?

I continued on by U-bike along the coast, watching water-skiers being pulled behind speed boats in the city canal. By the time I finally pushed the bike into one of the many open air locking grids, I didn’t have enough money on my  card to pay, so I left the bike there, put money on the card, and came back to pay. 7 hours of fun and exercise in a capital city for $15.60... welcome to Taiwan folks!

No Plan Japan 36 : Dragon Dream Pipe

What do we take away from dreams, and who are we really in comparison with those characters we show ourselves to be within them? Yesterday as I rode the U-bike across the city I come to a point at the river where everything that I’d become in life reflected back to me with piercing shards of light, the waters of that foreign land linking me to every other. Within those beams of light I saw the vast divide between the boy I was when my father lived, and the man I’ve become after, and directly because of his death. Words fail. Feelings rush for expression. The hard truths of life are the easiest to ignore until their certainty becomes inescapable, and we must exchange our fantasies for reality, asserting our true humanity or face the consequences of living a fatal fiction whose wick, wax and flame are one in the same, US. Our body, mind and soul.

I wept at that river, for my father, and myself. I held nothing back. There was no point. In all the grand echelons of experience nothing so overwhelms us as absolution, or its kin.  We reflect on all that was, as a being in the moment, and everything that comes next becomes an ever-increasing calculation, a moment-by-moment alteration of every decision, because of all those you’ve already made. In other words, I’ve become wise, and such a becoming always requires a sacrifice. Innocence of course, that much is obvious, but also the loss of our youth, health and sanity, taken in small bites over the course of years, then regurgitated back to us in waves of regret which act as modifiers for the rest of our lives. Moderators if you will, of our choices.

This is what dreams mean to me. They are psychospiritual modifiers for our behavior which we cannot escape, nor rationalize, and that is the key. For it is our ability to rationalize which prevents us from being able to actualize our true selves and thus accomplish the goals worthy of them. The illusions we cast over reality allow us to negate it, at least in our own heads. Dreams aren’t like that.

(You won’t rationalize the tea ceremony you had with your dead father in the basement, while trying to control a wild dog that loves you, isn’t yours, but wants to be and won’t let you help a strange woman with her iPad as the entire city sinks beneath the waves, and you certainly won’t make head or tail of finding a group of savage children coaxing you to climb a sheer cliff face in order to swing from unseen vines and chose a shallow grave for yourself below…)

You will however, be able to feel the emotional impact of ceremony, family, community and technology, all of which are under eternal threat, or threatening the rest, now won’t you? Using negation, we can know what no other method will show. What does the thing happening, take away? Did the dog prevent the woman from success with technology? Did the waves prevent community, or care? Did not being able to drink the tea with my father, prevent me from getting to know and honor him? The answer to all these questions is no. Nothing was taken away. The woman wasn’t prevented from getting to know technology. Family and community were maintained. I know my father better now, through the dream, and its apophatic lesson.

The dream taught me that, even as every force of man and nature works at odds, the substantial things to our existence continue on, and it is the struggle and refinement of ourselves and thus our situations, which give it all meaning. Always to the higher, they say. Go for gold. Make the most of it. The hallmarks of high achievement.

On that ride, before my tears had even finished, I promised my father that even though I had failed him in life, I would honor him in death. Carrying the family name as I had sworn not to while he lived. I thanked him for all he’d done. All those hard lessons meant for hardheaded fools like me. How can I deny the result? I am who I am because of him, and because of all the men like him who helped mold me. So, what now? Where do I go now that I know and understand the lessons? Do I go on a crusade, marching across time and space for the heart and soul of an entire race? An entire civilization? Yes. But also no. My goals are universal, and my methods equally so, for love has no bounds, nor limits.

The feelings I felt had to find a road to express themselves through, so I left the hostel and got another regular u-bike, non-electric, heading up instead of around this time. It was tough going, as the bike isn’t exactly built for such hard climbs. On the way up I rode for a short time with a pair of American expats riding $7,000 dollar rode bikes who moved here more than 30 years ago, and were now married to Taiwanese women and running businesses here together. We spoke as we rode, and when the reaching the fork in the rode, said our fair-wells. It’s always a trip to meet your countrymen living abroad, showing you all the ways you could be, if only you leapt to another pond. but as I rode I was motivated by an elder couple descending the hill in a jog.

“Ohhh Very Strong!” they said with wide eyes and nodding heads.

“I try!” I replied with an exhausted breath.

As soon as I passed the corner, out of sight from the elderly couple, I found abandoned and broken watch towers, overgrown by vines and large leafed greenery, too dangerous to climb from all the rot.

A mile after that, at the summit of the mountain there was a high-end resort whose entrance was giant boulders concreted together and etched with yellow metal, its parking lot filled with luxury cars of foreign and domestic makes. This is where the climb ended and I zoomed down the road, being passed by some of the same sports cars in both directions.

Below that another mile was a Buddhist temple on the edge of a cliff, whose only visible tenants were an army of cats, surprised at my appearance, though within I could hear the chanting of monks. On a foot-path leading down the hill from the monastery was an ancient village overgrown by the jungle beside a waterfall, whose plaques were so caked with moss that they seemed to be more plant than anything else.

The ride down was fast and fun in the jungle forest. I returned my U-bike once back in town, paying $2.00 for the time... what a screaming deal. Then I looked up vegan eats and found a small buffet place. I ordered a massive plate for $3.00 and then, when trying to order another one, the owners just said.

“Thank you for coming, come again!”

“No no,” I said smiling, “I want another plate please.” The lady was in shock, and had I not just climbed a mountain I would never have been hungry enough to finish both either. I ordered different things for the second order and paid the $6 total. An old toothless woman smiling at me like a fool, nodding excitedly at my appetite. I left that little shop and found the subway, 80 minutes later I was back at the Hostel, wondering at where life would take me next. I had no idea...

No Plan Japan 35 : Hello Again

The next day I took the subway in the wrong direction a few stops trying to meet up with Zoe, luckily, she was late as well. I almost didn’t recognize her as we met, she was wearing a mask, and her hair was short, she took me to a lovely vegan spot she knew about, as she had become one some years ago for a time; it was really nice, but way more expensive. $15 a dish, a far cry from $3.15, but then much higher quality. From there we walked around and found e-bikes which are scattered throughout the city called U-Bikes, available to everyone using the subway cards which function as debit cards as well in many places, a genius system, but I didn’t register mine yet, so we plan on doing it tomorrow.

Loving my hostel, I booked three more nights and got to know the immediate area around it better until the night called me home. The next morning, I had more toast, tea and coffee for a boost, and met up with Zoe in Daan Park Station, a really cool subway set at the heart of a sprawling jungle park filled with exotic birds, turtles and other spirits. It felt like the safari zone or something in there. It was such a hot day too. We took some great pictures, walked barefoot on a stone challenge course, felt like I was trying out for Indiana Jones, so painful! But we both made it.

From there we went to a cafe called Oh-Cha for lunch, which had very nice Boba Tea and sandwiches. It was also right next to a market where hundreds of vendors were selling jewelry of all kinds, food, animals, and other exotics. I didn’t buy anything, but I certainly saw much which caught my eye.

We found some U-bikes, which aren’t anything to write home about in terms of quality, but they are far better than normal bikes if you want to go far on the cheap, and without much effort. It was fun, reminded me of our times together in Indonesia driving a moped around. The day drew to a close, I took her to the same bus station I used to arrive in the city from the Airport, bought a Pepsi because I thought she wanted it, she didn’t, I drank it all and felt like a bull in a China shop, she said so too, but she had been drinking liquor, so I felt the change in her too.

She suggested a route for me to take on the U-bike and departed. I followed her advice, getting a U-bike from a nearby lot, and rode around the riverbanks of the city on a bike path more glorious and well managed than any I’ve seen in the States, or anywhere else for that matter, again, very surprising, and I’m here for that, always. Nothing gets your life going faster than breaking through ignorance. There were so many riders and walkers too, though not nearly as many vending machines as Japan, here there are maybe 1/10 as many in general, though they are placed in very logical places, and always well managed. I tried several new drinks I’d never seen before, each one stranger and sugarier than the last.

Finally, I was pooped and returned to the hostel, where sleep came hard, and fast.

No Plan Japan 34 : The Taiwan Test

I got up without having slept much, I made too many mistakes with my food. Spice. Salt. Sugar, in excess, can’t be good. But anyways I spoke with Takashi once more, he was playing guitar softly in his bunk. The bus was 8 minutes to the airport, and once there, I got the best vegan meal they had, a fabulous 1,400 yen, sub $10 meal packed with veggies like okra, baby corn, seaweed, squash and more! Man, it was so good I almost went for another, but I knew it would be a waste, never overdo a good thing, it’s the fastest way to ruin it.

The flight was something else, for just as I sat down in a plane with 9 emergency rows, the flight attendant came only to me, putting their hand on my shoulder rest almost on my shoulder itself and asked with the seriousness of a man handing you a gun to go put down the family dog,

“Are you willing to save everyone on this plane when it crash?” I gulped secretly, hoping he hadn’t detected weakness, then nodded.

“Yes.”

“Okay!” he said, raising his hand triumphantly like a game show host and walking away as though I had just accepted the highest price of an already overpriced item at auction. So intense was the question and the response to it, that I actually was afraid that the plane would go down. Images of Tom Hanks confessing his soul to a blood soaked volley ball came to mind, yet it was not to be, as we landed safely and ahead of schedule. I spent the time playing and almost beating Zelda, Links awakening. This game is so amazing, the Japanese have managed to turn supposed children’s games into self realization tools using the hero’s journey and 8 bit technology. It’s no wonder their culture is so revered, and dare I say feared, for they are truly different, set apart by cultural realities which no other people can copy, nor would want to even if they could.

Now, I’ve usually tried to finish things in life, unless it truly wasn’t my jam, then I dropped it so quickly that I forgot about it before it even fell to the ground, but there are certain episodes within the many chapters which called for a different path, one which would put whatever I was doing on hold for decades at a time. The closer I get to beating this game, the closer I feel as though a part of the puzzle within my life has come together at long last. I started this journey more than 30 years ago in the back of my father’s white Ford F-150 on the way back from the San Diego farmers market, amazed and intimidated by the enemies, the music, the lore; and now, so close to finishing, it seems I’ve finally made a friend meant for me all those years ago.

Not to harp too much on it, as I’m sure most of the people reading this blog are not gamers, but even for those of you who are not, you too remember the magic of film, music and dance, of experiences which required your participation in order to be experienced, yet exist on their own as well, and can belong to anyone, anywhere. This only touches on the idea, but it flushes it out with enough consideration.

Going through security at airports is usually a strenuous activity, at least for those of us who aren’t professional travelers who are asleep on the plane before it even takes off and wake up at the destination escorted through premier, exclusive treatment barrages to the point of numbness, shaking hands with strangers then vanishing upon metal wings once more, headed for the clouds and lands of distant places. However there are times when going through security feels like a joke, or a formality barely worth addressing, and this was one of those times. I was whisked through security, no full body scanners that are so joyous to enter, no frisky buff man handler pat downs, just papers, photo, enter, done.

Once through, I exchanged $700.00 US for Yuan, got a $4 bus to the city which took an hour or more, made it to my hostel which was really plush, way nicer than I imagined it would be. Got a peanut noodle dish for $1 at the rail station a half mile away and roamed the city for a little bit before deciding on going to a computer repair place 45 minutes away by sky-rail, these really pretty and fun raised trains which make you feel like you’re in the future.

Once I found the place I was shocked at the cost, $411.00 for a screen replacement on my Mac M1 Air, which I only paid $1100 for a couple years ago. I had also replaced the screen once before while still under warranty, so for the second time in many years I’ve been able to regain a large portion of the initial cost via warranty. The best example of which is my E-Bike which I’ve had almost everything warrantied, costing almost more than the whole bike, a $3,000+ investment. Let this be a lesson to you folks, never use alcohol to clean electronics unless you know exactly what you’re doing. I gave them the computer and accepted the cost, for it is mine to bare, then returned to the hostel and checked in.

One of the things which really blows my mind about Taiwan is just how much more expensive it is than Japan, but just like Germany being entirely too cheap for the quality compared to the other countries in Europe, I’m beginning to get the full picture on economic warfare post ww2. No matter where I go in the world, I see the aftereffects of that conflict, the one which was supposedly finished back in 45, but clearly just took on a different guise to suit the needs of those who would continue fighting it.  As I go forward, my eyes open ever more.

The hostel was quiet for the most part, I had no roommates the first night, so sleeping was easy. The next morning I had the free toast and tea from the hostel, plus I bought one of their ramens, and set out for some shopping, being a day away still from seeing my old friend Zoe, whom I met back in 2011 in Australia. I set out to buy a new DAC for my phone, a small little dongle which you insert your 3.5 millimeter headphone jack into a usb-c for ones phone, but it doesn’t just function as an adapter, it actually boosts the signal and makes it much better, especially on my 2019 Pixel 4 XL, a seven year old phone that still kicks ass in most applications that I use, though its aging out now as well. I found a big building filled with electronics and bought  $13 dongle, it was terrible, cutting off the first word of every line while I listened to audio books, but it worked well enough as long as I only listened to music, I can’t wait to get a phone with an actual 3.5 mm headphone jack.

After that I went to a fancy coffee shop and bought a cup of black which sent me over the top, I was giggin, dancing around the city like a fool. I looked up all the vegan places and found quite a few, which was great, I chose the one which seemed most authentic and wasn’t far away. It ended up being a dirty little mom and pop shop hole in the wall, but for $3.15 I got more food than I needed, and it was very tasty. I gave them $4, no change, they were surprised. I guess they don’t tip at all in Asia. Makes sense.

Tomorrow I meet with Zoe, and our 14 year side quests finally cross paths, once more.

No Plan Japan 32 : Barefoot Jungle

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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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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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 26 : Black Crow Castle

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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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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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...