No Plan Japan 23 : Only Fools Rush In

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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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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

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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...