Okay, I apologize if you're tired of hearing about my vacation but this is my way of documenting it for posterity. Plus, when Sofia Coppola decides she wants to make a movie of my life I'll be able to help fill her in on the finer details. But at any rate this is my freaking blog so I'll write whatever I damn well please.Taisho Village
Once again, my recollection of the day's activities is courtesy of my sister's memory and an e-mail from her describing such recollections. On Tuesday (of vacation week, not this week) we went to Nihon Taishomura (Japan Taisho Village) in Akechi (part of Ena). That will be on the quiz, so write it down.
If I can separate that day from the others, I remember that we went around to a number of historical buildings and museums (musea?). Right off the bat, I spotted this dude getting ready to catch himself some bait. What were these guys fishing for in those little streams?
As usual, I encourage you to look at the pictures full size (click on them) to really appreciate what I was trying to capture. The little pictures don't do them justice.Media Museum
In all honesty, this museum wasn't all about media, but it had a floor dedicated to old newspapers (which I couldn't read) and one dedicated to old record players (Victrolas?). Like most places, you had to take off your shoes upon entering. Conveniently they had guest slippers, which are akin to bowling shoes in America: loud and ugly as sin. What made them even more attractive to me is that they're sized for Japanese feet, not my 350 Big Block hooves. If you look closely you can see that they only go about halfway back on my feet.
I was particularly enamored with the old record players. I took a lot of pictures of them and the media they played; below is one such cool player. Unlike a CD, you can see the ones and zeros on this bad boy...
Thirsty?
Imagine this scenario: You're out in the sun all day, busting your hump at some sort of physical activity. Maybe you're working construction, maybe you're pulling a rickshaw, or maybe in the pursuit of a Hollywood Style body you're just exercising for the sake of vanity. Whatever the reason, you're working up a sweat that is depleting your body of precious fluids and even more precious electrolytes.
"I'm soooo thirsty" you think to yourself. Do you reach out and grab a cool, refreshing glass of water? Hell no, there ain't no electrolytes in that crap. No, nothing gives your body more of what it needs than a tall, chilled bottle of 
Believe it or not, that's my hand holding the bottle. I not only held a bottle, I also purchased it and proceeded to consume it. It's no Lemon/Lime Gatorade, but it's not that bad. My sister and I decided that the term Pocari would forever be used in the context of working up a wicked sweat, or a Pocari Sweat.
The real questions are: What is a Pocari? How do you harvest its sweat? Squeegee it's back or ring out its fur? What does a Pocari drink? Aaaaaannnnnd discuss.Now I'm Hungry
At the end of the day, I may have sucked down enough Pocari back sweat to drown a horse, but I have a hunger that won't quit. I could really go for a
Note that the name brand here is "Tasty Sandwich". Is that like a Tastykake®?
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Japan Trip - Vol IV
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Japan Trip - Vol III
As it turned out, I never gave y'all the third installment of my vacation. Instead, you got to read about my mole catching cats, who have subsequently been erroneously walking around like their shit doesn't stink.To Tsumago We Go
Our first day trip took us to two nearby towns. First we hit up Tsumago (SU ma go) where we visited an old district of houses and buildings. It was hard not to take pictures of everything because not only was everything cool and old, but also quite photogenic.
The picture below is an example of how the Japanese folks like to control nature. What was once certainly either a waterfall or just a beautiful rocky stream is now a cascading concrete waterfall and riverbed. Despite the non-natural state of the river, it's still very pleasing to the eye. I encourage you to click on the picture to see it full-size.
You can also see the smoke in the background, which looks like maybe they're manufacturing something but in fact is what I like to call Public Incense. In the rural areas, people have little smolder piles of what I think might be cedar branches or some similar item. The smoke keeps bugs away and provides a very pleasing scent to the air. Everywhere you go you can smell this delicious scent.
Here's a closeup of the waterfall, you can see the textured concrete tiles used as the riverbed. Sweet.
Here is a shot of my sister standing on the main road. The bluish gray mountains in the background could be seen pretty much everywhere we went. Unlike here in the US where we use ratty ass knotty pine, the shops, restaurants and homes in this area are almost all built of cedar, which grows in abundance all over the countryside.
If you look closely you can see red lanterns hanging in some of the entrances to the shops. They were preparing for a festival, which we missed, but what seemed like it would be a neat thing to catch. Eh, you can't catch it all and we got goheimochi instead (to be seen later).
This last picture is one of my favorites from the trip. The traditional architecture, bluish gray mountains and general kickassery makes me just want to pack up and move to that house. Well, almost.
Make Way for Magome
Or next stop on that trip was to Magome (mah go may). The sights and sounds were pretty similar to those of Tsumago, with one major difference - Goheimochi. Below is a shot down one of the streets, once again backdropped (is that a word?) with a beautiful mountainscape.
It would have been easy to meander in and out of the shops, looking at all of the wares the shopkeepers had to sell, wishing you had more time/money/luggage space so you could take it all home, but we were really in Magome for one reason only - Goheimochi (AKA The Moch).
As it was described to me, Goheimochi didn't sound like anything I was willing to knock old ladies down for. You ready? Grilled rice balls on a stick, with some sauce. Abbey kept insisting that we hurry up before the place closed, lest the trip be in vain. Since I didn't know any better, I just followed along and when we got to the Goheimochi spot there were only a few left. We dropped a few hundred yen on a pair of sticks each and one bite later I would have drop kicked a nun if she was in the way of some Moches. Before leaving I had to drop another hundred yen (or was it 150?) on another stick. Them shits is delish, son!
Some poor losers showed up after our bingefest only to find there were only three sticks left. Sucks to be you, player.
Stay tuned for more vacation reports. In the meantime, life is pretty much the same as usual.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Earning Their Keep
Many of you have probably heard me say that my cats are lazy and are non-contributors to the household. While I was away on vacay, my cat sitter informed me that they had caught a mouse. Of course they have about a dozen toy mice all over the house so I figured she was joking. I figured wrong...Lookey Here
When I got home from my run this morning, I saw the cats proudly standing around the remains of a house intruder. I'm not sure if it's a grey mouse or a mole or what. Here's Vinny showing me his kill...
From Earning His Keep
Here he is again, getting ready to toss the poor bastard in the air. I apologize for the crummy pictures, I had to document the kill quickly so I could get the carcass out of the house. I didn't dare let the cats have the time to shred the thing, leaving entrails on my rug.
Fortunately I had eaten California Rolls for dinner the other night, and I used the chopsticks to pick up the mouse and place him onto the Cali Roll container for proper burial. I buried the little guy in the back yard, with a brief moment of silence in his memory.
That's all.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Japan Trip - Vol II
With the success of yesterday's post reviewing the first day of my trip, I'm back again to regale you in my adventures for the second day of travel. This included the flight from Chicago to Nagoya, Japan and has a few key notes for anyone out there who might be traveling internationally in the near future.Don't Be Greedy
My second flight (first of the second day) from Chicago to Nagoya was called a non-stop flight. And by non-stop, the good folks at United Airlines mean you'll be stopping in San Francisco to change planes, and generally fend for yourself. I'll get to that part in minute.
I awoke to a cacophony of alarms - if you remember I had set three to wake me so I wouldn't miss my flight. First came the mobile telephone alarm, which takes a few button presses to silence for good. Before I had that figured out, the hotel wake-up call chimed in further confusing my less than rested brain. As I started to come to, my watch fired off its alarm confirming to my brain that there was some reason I had to get up that morning. Ah yes, to catch a flight.
I got up, fixed my two complimentary cups of coffee and hopped in the shower. Cleaned and refreshed I quickly put down the first cup of coffee, and emptied the second cup into a standard paper "to go" cup provided by the hotel - a nice touch, packed up my stuff and checked out.
Back in the main area of the airport, I again went through security hoping for enough time to get some breakfast. I arrived to late at the hotel to catch dinner and left to early for breakfast, and the Clif Bars and Fig Newtons just weren't holding me over. No such luck. At some point I must have acquired a Starbucks coffee, because it's cup comes into play in the following story.Was that Necessary?
I boarded the flight to San Francisco with my Starbucks coffee, wishing it was fuller. Remembering that United serves the SB on their flights I felt at ease.
Once in the air, the flight attendants came around with the drink cart with their normal offerings. I asked politely for a coffee, and asked if I could have it in my own cup. The flight attendant quickly cut me down stating that she had to have enough for all of the passengers. I responded stating that I didn't like the foam cups because they tend to spill on me, and if she would put the same amount in my cup, I would appreciate it. She ignored my request, and when she brought my Styrofoam cup of coffee over she thrust it into my hand spilling a large amount onto my pants, book, iPod and all down my hand. I quickly held it over the aisle to avoid spilling more onto my lap, looked her in the eye and asked her "Was that really necessary?" She turned away as if nothing had just happened. Wench.
I poured the remaining contents into my own SB cup (complete with lid) and held the worthless Styrofoam cup waiting for it to dry. When the second flight attendant passed (you know how they work two to a cart), she noticed my empty cup and asked if I'd like another coffee. "Yes, that would be great" I said. I added that to my own cup and VOILA, a full cup. Take that you ornery bitch!The Wench Gets her Revenge
Later in the flight, the flight attendants came down the aisle collecting garbage and so on. As luck would have it, I got the ornery bitch again and as she reached over me to collect my neighbor's trash, she poured the backwash of someone else's Coke onto my lap. Without restraint, I fired off my response: "Are you fucking kidding me?" Taking pleasure in my sewer of a lap, she simply collected our cups and moved on. I don't know if I look like someone she doesn't like or the woman is just a royal bitch, but I did nothing to offend her other than boarding her flight. If the United attendants wore name tags I surely would have complained to the folks in charge upon my arrival in Japan.
United Airlines, if you're reading I was on Flight 831 (7:10 AM) out of Chicago on July 21st. I'll be happy to speak to customer service regarding my complaints.Non-Stop has a New Meaning
When we touched down in San Francisco, they informed us that we would be making a short stop to change planes. A short stop on a non-stop flight, gotcha. What they didn't tell us that they would not be directing us to our new plane. Our instructions were to inquire at the United desk at our gate for directions to the next flight. As luck would have it, that desk was unmanned.
I looked at the departures board and found my flight was boarding at Gate 100, check. Now, scanning the gate signs it became painfully obvious that the gates were numbered 1-96. Hmm, no gate 100. I wandered around aimlessly for a while until I came across a small sign reading something to the effect of "Transport to International Terminal". As I walked up to the sign, an international looking woman quickly walked up to me and ushered me off to an unmarked door, leading to some behind-the-scenes area. It was there that I boarded an unmarked bus with other international looking people, where we were shuttled off to the International Terminal. The whole thing was pretty shady, and I found it hard to believe that that's how they run their airport. Whatever, I found where I was supposed to be.A Pain in the Ass
The bulk of my flying was yet to come, and I boarded the last flight with a fear in my heart. You see, I was seated in the middle of 5 seats, in the front row, on a 9+ hour flight. My good fortune won out as I noticed there was a TON of leg room in the front row. I took my seat, whipped out a book and tried to get comfortable. Over the course of the flight the seat became less and less comfortable, to the point where I thought I'd have to have some sort of gluteus maximus surgery. My ass muscles (really, more like my hamstrings) were so sore by the end of the flight it hurt to both stand and sit. Killer.
Whew, that's all I have for you right now. Thanks for listening, it gets MUCH better I assure you.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Saturday, August 04, 2007
First Vacation Installment
Good morning everyone, today I'm going to give you a brief rundown of Day 1 of my vacation. I'm also going to include a section entitled "Diary of a Mad White Man", an excerpt of some notes I had taken while traveling. I didn't have my laptop on hand, so I took old fashioned hand written notes when I had the chance.Leg 1 - Albany to Chi-Town
My flight out to Chicago was late in the day on Friday 7/20. JO graciously offered to take me to the airport and pick me up when I got back, saving me the trouble and expense of leaving my car in long term parking (Economy Lot E, yo). It also saved me the trouble of figuring out how the hell to get to the airport when an accident had a major road closed for 3 exits. Since I don't listen to the radio when I drive I wouldn't have found out about this until my car was securely lodged in bumper-to-bumper mayhem.
At the security checkpoint in the Albany airport, I was delighted to find only one woman ahead of me. She was not boarding a flight, but rather seeing a grandchild off, and her lack of luggage, carry-ons, 4 oz. bottles of toiletries, laptops and film-based analog cameras whisked her through with a pleasant efficiency.
I unloaded my quart sized Zip-Loc bags into a bin, slapped my backpack (read: personal item) and carry-on onto the conveyor and eased my feet out of my Crocs. Folks, I'll reiterate this point in almost all of my future write-ups of this trip: Crocs are AWESOME! I don't care how trendy they are or how ridiculous they look, them shits is the BAAMB! They're ideal for airplane travel, as they slide on and off without laces yet stay put until you truly want them off. Plus they're just freaking comfy. Damn!
Oh, let me back up a hair. When I checked in at the United desk, the agent at the desk was pretty helpful and seemed to enjoy my Hawaiian shirt (almost a little too much if you know what I mean). He offered to upgrade my seating to something with more leg room for what I found to be an exorbitant amount of money - I declined.
Upon boarding the plane it was evident that everyone else had also declined the offer, as every single one of those seats was empty. When the pilot turned off the seat belt light and told us to feel free to move about the cabin, I felt free to move about the cabin into a more spacious seat. {Georgia Mass Choir}UP-GRAAAADE{/Georgia Mass Choir}.Layover #1
My first flight touched down in Chi-town and I set forth to find the Hilton "Conveniently Attached to O'Hare Airport". I couldn't find any signs directing me to the hotel, so I asked a gentleman in an airport uniform. His response was priceless:"Down the stairs, down the stairs, on your left"
Easy enough, but it left one question unanswered; where were the stairs? He clarified his previous response with:"Down the stairs, down the stairs, on your left"
I see. Maybe I had to be more specific. "Are the stairs just right around this corner?" I asked. Finally he gave me more explicit directions:"Down the stairs, down the stairs, on your left"
"Thanks, you've been very helpful" I told him and set forth to find the damn place myself. Navigating a maze of tunnels, doorways and escalators I found myself lost. Eventually I found the hotel, but still couldn't find my way to the check-in desk which was not called a check-in desk. The hotel map neglected to include a "You are here" sticker so I just found which floor most likely contained a check-in-like area and got on the elevator. It was possible that the elevator would return me to my original floor, but I had no way to know which floor I was on in the first place. What ever happened to just using plain old numbers for floors? They had something like 3 floors with names, then the numbers started. Christ, don't they know I'm tired and have to wake up in 4 hours?
The room, however, was pretty freaking nice which I guess I would expect for $180 a night (that's almost $45 per hour for me). I made sure to use up all of the coffee and tea (and fancy travel cups they give you) to get the most out of that room. I also sat in all of the chairs and even turned on the TV to watch a documentary about a heroin addict. Ahh junkies, so documentable.
Before turning in, I set up a wake-up call for 4:00 AM, set the alarm on my mobile telephone, set the alarm on my watch and made a mental note to get up early. I don't like taking chances when traveling.Diary of a Mad White Man
These were some of my thoughts while sitting in the Albany airport awaiting my first flight...Sitting in the living room section of the secured area of the concourse, sipping a latte, listening to the air conditioned sounds of Jack Johnson in my Hawaiian shirt I await the first leg of my first international journey.
Occasionally flicking off the noise cancellation feature of my headphones I'm reminded that the Gadget Gods were indeed smiling on me when I found these gems, allowing me to transcend the aural living space of the masses. I am part of the acoustic elite.
When I referred to the "air conditioned sounds of Jack Johnson", the "air conditioning" was performed by my new headphones (Audio-Technica ATH-ANC7). Over the course of my travels I found them to be invaluable. After looking for a link for them, I see that Amazon has since found them to be less valuable than they were three weeks ago, by about 33%. Damn, I paid a lot more for them, but they were worth every cent. I have two words for you: Go Buy Them Shits for Yourself, Son.
The picture below is intended to show the simple comforts I enjoyed at the airport. A nice coffee table, view of the airstrip, latte and killer tunes made my wait all the nice.
So that was the first leg of my trip. I'll treat you to more stories at a later date so you don't gobble the whole trip up in one gluttonous reading frenzy. Peace out bitches.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
