evdog

Hokkaido

Has it really been ten days since I’ve posted an update? Not a case of building suspense, more a matter of limited time and internet access. A ten day rehash may prove a bit tedious and strain my memory, so I’ll focus on the highlights. My last stop in Honshu was Matsumoto, a small city known for it’s historic wood castle, not far from the begining of the Tateyama Kurobe Alpine Route. The alpine route, or pass tour, was pretty cool, utilzing multiple modes of transportation: train, bus, cable car, and foot power over six segments. It was a little too organized for my taste, having come to loathe group tours, but you were allowed to stop at any of spots and catch the next train/bus/car. One of the first stops was Kurobe Dam, a massive dam built in the 1960’s. It was quite impressive, a super structure built between steep jagged mountains. Later I ate lunch at a stop near the summit of Mt. Tateyama, followed by a brisk walk through the snow tunnel, more like a trench. The 30 foot walls of snow reminded me of the railroad pictures that fascinated me as a kid, pictures of snow plows carving deep trenches across snow laden North Dakota. The next day I made a beeline for Hokkaido, a ten hour trip on four different trains. It was actually faster to backtrack and catch the bullet train north along the east coast than it would have been to continue along the west coast. After a long day of travel, including a trip through the under water tunnel connecting Honshu and Hokkaido, was expecting something cool but it was just a loooong tunnel, I arrived in Hokodate. My stay in Hakodate was quick. I crashed at a cheap business hotel across from the train station. The next morning I walked through two impressive seafood markets and had a breakfast of salmon roe, flaked salmon, and crab on rice. Interestingly, many of the street/business signs were bilingual, Japanese and Russian. There was a Russian Orthodox church to tour, but I chowed my seafood breakfast and caught a mid-morning train to Sapporo. Sapporo is the biggest city in Hokkaido. It certainly has a big city feel, but a laid back northern city feel, reminded me of Minneapolis. I took a long walk out to the Sapporo Brewery Beer Garden expecting a classic communal table beer garden experience. Instead it was a standard restaurant that served very large beers. When in Rome. The Sapporo Draft was quite tasty. The next morning I made arrangements to meet Mrs. Shinozaki, friend of Mr. Nakagawa’s, actually, a friend of his cousin’s. I called the number at the appointed hour. A lady answered, we exchanged hellos, and thus marked the end of our shared language. My pantomime skills have steadily improved over the course of my trip. You should see me act out “sorry but you’re umbrella was the vicitim of a large gust of wind”. The lady at the hotel understood my excuse for the mangled umbrella instantly. But without good ol’ nonverbal communication, and my inability to utter phrases from my phrasebook that are worthy of the language, Mrs. Shinozaki asked that I call back in thirty minutes. The sun was shining and I was getting a little antsy, wondering if I should quickly learn the phrase “sorry, but I have an appointment”. I called back and she offered instructions to get to her ramen restaurant across town. A subway ride later, I was greeted by Mrs. Shinozaki, a friendly lady wearing a chef’s hankerchief. She ushered me to her tiny restaurant around the corner from the station and offered me a seat at the bar circling the kitchen. The other cook, Harumi, who I think was her daughter, had an infectious smile and a jovial nature. We laughed and joked as she served up a mouth watering bowl of ramen, to be followed by a bowl of, as she described it, “dessert”, rice and eggs made with the remaining broth. Of course I figured this out after nearly finishing off the tasty miso brew. Her older sister Heromi arrived later, on lunch break from her flower shop around the corner. Her english was quite good, so she played interpreter through the rest of the meal. The eldest sister gave me a copy of a book rating the 50 best ramen shops in Sapporo. To my surprise, Harumi was on the cover. At first glance I thought that she had written the book, but was informed, though it may have been lost in translation, that that particular shop was rated best. Sapporo’s renowned for it’s ramen and I end up in the best shop. Thanks once again Mr. Nakagawa! Later that evening, after stumbling up Sapporo’s Earth Day celebration(Japanese hippies… quite a sight) in a park that bisects the city, I stopped into a pub for a beer. The bartenders and regulars around the bar were all very friendly, amazing what “America. Seattle. Ichirio” can do to spark conversation. From that point forward I didn’t buy a drink. Despite my protests and money in hand, they purchased round after round - “In Sapporo we buy the drinks, in Seattle you buy the drinks”. At some point during the evening I pulled out the ramen book to get their take. With instant recognition they pointed at Harumi with a knowing look. It turns out she’s famous in Japan, not for her cooking, but rather, as a comedian. What! I’m not sure if they were pulling my leg or if I’d had one too many beers. An indepedent inquiry is still pending. I had planned to spend the following couple days in Asahikawa visiting the famous zoo and planning the next leg of my Hokkaido trip. Unfortunately, one day was spent traveling and nursing a hangover, the other soaked by rain. Craving mindless entertainment, I rented a couple movies and parked in an internet cafe. Next stop Asahidake Onsen, a small resort community at the base of Asahi-dake(Mt. Asahi). I caught a bus up to the mountain and on the way up met Matt, a guy from Switzerland, and Pavel from the Czech Republic. We compared travel notes and found that Matt and I were booked at the same hostel, while Pavel was braving the elements in a sleeping bag. Given the snow that blanketed the ground, I did not envy his choice of accomodations. Matt was a live wire and bound and determined to climb to the top of Asahi-dake, the highest point in Hokkaido, approx 7000 feet high. I thought the idea crazy, but figured I’d sign up for the adventure and turn around if it got hairy, or better termed, icy. We set off the next morning, taking advantage of the ski lift for the first half. The sun was shining bright though offset by a brisk wind. Thankfully, I brought along every piece of warm clothing in my possession, sure glad I didn’t jettison the fleece jacket in Thailand. We lost the trail a couple times, finding it in time to trudge up the right most ridge. Months have passed since I built up climbing chops in New Zealand, making it a difficult climb, Alas, we reached the summit and were afforded a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains. Matt then decided we should hike down the other side and circle the mountain on return. My explanation that mountains are wider at the bottom than the top fell on deaf ears… and you’re from Switzerland? Explaining that he’d be taking a solo trip home tipped the balance. We literally ran down the mountain. The snow was half melted and soft, so we bounded down the snow field adjacent to the trail. The onsen(hot spring) that evening hit the spot… an onsen earned is an onsen enjoyed. The next day I set off for Wakkanai, the northernmost city in Japan. After a four hour train trip through rice paddies, farm fields, cow pastures, and ocean coastline, I arrived at JR Station Wakkanai. Odd little town really, an end of the line town with plenty of buildings, but very few people. I found a place to stay and was directed by the hotel clerk toward the sushi joint across the street for dinner. It was a typical Japanese sushi restaurant, a long bar along the kitchen, a few tables in the back. The sushi chef was an older gentleman with a hachimaki around his head and a serious look on his face. They brought out the picture book menu for the tourist, instead I opted to point at the fish in the display case separating me from the knife wielding elder. He laughed and commenced serving up the best sashimi I’ve had the privilege to eat. The scallops, sea urchin, squid, octopus, salmon, and shrimp were all fresh and off the charts. A limited amount of cash in my pocket, forgot to get cash before leaving civilization, saved me from my appetite and an epic bill. While buying a ticket for the ferry to Rishiri Island the next morning, where I had planned to spend a couple nights, I noticed a bunch of people carrying cases containing musical instruments. A bit curious, given that the towns on Rishiri are much smaller than Wakkanai, I walked over to one of the trombone players to inquire(we trombone players stick together). I learned that they were all members of the Sapporo Symphony Orchestra and were scheduled to play a concert on Rishiri that evening. News spread throughout the members that I was also a trombonist, or more accurately, was once a trombonist. Before long I had met many of the members, had a ticket to the concert, and an invite to the post-concert BBQ. Another lost in translation moment, I ended up booking a room in the town on the opposite side of the island. The lady at the info booth informed me that I could get a bus there, but was going to have to call a taxi to get back…ooops. Reasoning that I had a free ticket, which turned out to be a free ticket to a free concert, I caught the bus and braved the cost of the return taxi fare. Rishiri obviously doesn’t get many non-Japanese tourists. The look of shock on the faces of the old ladies on the front of the bus was priceless. A kinichiwa later and I learned how much they both liked american movies. The concert was quite good, the performance hall incredibly nice for such a small town. During intermission one of the french horn players introduced me to the tour manager to ensure my entry into the BBQ… another ooops. After the show the manager walked over and regretfully infomed me that the party was for “players only”. I fought the urge to say, “but I AM a player, or once was”. Instead I expressed my understanding and ask that he fetch a few of the guys so that I could say goodbye. Seijun, the only Japanese person I’ve ever met that’s my height, the trombone section, and two french horn players were bummed that I had to leave. Maybe it was for the best, given cabs stopped running at 10:30. Who likes to leave a party early? I had planned to spend today hiking around Rishiri Island, but woke up this morning to a heavy downpour. The clerk informed me that the forecast called for “rain rain rain”. With nothing to do short of hiking, a book with only 75 pages left, and TV blaring a frenzy of swine flu hysteria that I can’t decipher, other than the mounting case count, I made an abrupt change of plans and caught the next boat back to Wakkanai. As luck would have it, again the orchestra was on the same boat, giving us a chance to talk about the concert the night before and exchange contact info. I’m back in Asahikawa plotting my next move. With five days remaining on my rail pass and a somewhat gloomy weather forecast for Hokkaido, I may head back to Honshu and check out the mountains between here and Tokyo. With that said, I better get to googling.