colder weather, sweet halloween smells

This weekend brought cold weather to the lonely city of Himeji. Today I wore my fleece jacket to school. The air is getting crisp, and the skies are turning a deeper blue every day. The leaves have yet to change , but I wait in anticipation for firey red maple trees to color the surrounding hills. The colder air brought back memories of autumn in childhood...soccer tournaments, neighborhood roller-hockey games, hiking MacAfee's Knob, free apple cider at the pumpkin farms, and of course Halloween night. I've recently concluded though, that I have the worst memory of anyone that I know--including my dad. I cannot specifically recall one of my Halloween costumes, nor the people that I went trick-or-treating with. Well, besides Ryan Hines--my childhood best friend for about five years. I know I went to Halloween parties in high school, but I can't remember those either. I feel like all of my childhood is fading away. There are only strange and unsatisfying memories that have remained in my head. Like running laps on the sidewalk during middle school. Or a fight in the school bathroom in 6th grade. Or the time my friend jumped on my back after church one Sunday and he hit his head on a chair and went into convulsions. These aren't exactly things I can look back on in my life and say to my grandchildren "When I was your age....." But maybe that's why God gave me photography. As a visual thinker, I can now record periods or events in my life in the way I want to remember them. That is of course what a photographer does--he chooses a moment to be permanently recorded in time. It is a moment that the photographer sees, and a memory that is then created.
This week held a lot of interesting things to write about. I better do it now, before the memories are forever lost in my vacuum of my mind. This week I tried natto, a specialty Japanese food consisting of fermented beans and the nastiest, slimiest covering of some clear, sticky gel. It smells like rotten feet and looks like peaunt butter, rice, and slug juice mixed together. I only tried it because it is something that you have to do while in Japan. There are many people who like this food, including my friend Hiro who coerced me into eating it and then laughed when I reacted with squirmish faces and gagging gestures. I even had to get a new pair of chopsticks after that because the smell just covered everything.

I got the best and only deal I think I will ever get in Japan. I bought a pair of Nike training shoes for about $25 and they were normally a hundred dollars more.

I saw a car chase, which again, is probably the only car chase that I will ever see in Japan. In fact, it might be the only car chase that has ever occured in Japan. On the way home from bowling, a van zipped by us followed by two police cars weaving in and out of traffic. We noted the fact they were probably only going 60 MPH. We were on the highway, but then again the speed limit on the highway is 40 MPH. Oh, Japan.

I went to the Himeji art museum which was shockingly comprised of about 30 paintings in the permanent collection. It took me all of five minutes to look through the whole museum, and yet the actual building could house a quarter of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I was severely disapointed.

Last night I was riding my bike home rather late from the train station. I was in the zone, just thinking about life and cranking away when out of nowhere a car came rushing past me and some idiot screamed out the window at me. It really surprised me and I nearly jumped off my bike. Perhaps it was so scary because I've become so accustomed to the peaceful, and reserved side of Japan. Maybe it was because he was two feet away when he screamed at me. I never expected something like that to happen, and therefore it was that much more surprising. Well, it made me really mad, partly because I was ashamed that I had allowed myself to get so scared. A burning hatred rose up in me. I decided to chase after the car...and chase I did, with all my strength. As I was riding with all my might, I thought that I could just let this go. I thought about the verse that describes turning the other cheek. Part of me said to let the whole thing go, but part of me was in rage. Well, I continued to ride keeping the car in sight as it moved further and further away. There were only three or four other cars on the road at that time. My only hope was that he would hit a stop light. My luck was good that night, because as I crested the next hill, I saw three or four cars waiting at a light. My lungs burning, I raced towards the cars and then pulled up slowly beside the car that I knew had patronized me. I looked straight at the guy in the passenger seat and gave him a cold stare. He knew it was me alright, and I think part of him was scared because he never thought I would catch back up to them. Then the light turned green and I kept staring at them as they passed me again. At the next light, I saw that they were stopped, and I realized this was my chance. At that light I would take a left turn and head into my neighborhood. So, I got up speed, zoomed feet past the car, and screamed right back at them as I wizzed by. They let out a fearsome reply, but I had already turned the corner. When I looked back, I saw them also making the turn and I got a little scared. I peddled like mad down the dark street and turned quickly off into a narrow alley. I jumped off my bike, turned off my light, and crouched down as they passed by. It was brilliant. My heart was racing, and in between gasping breaths I was saying, "Aint nobody gonna mess with me!" I felt justified. I didn't care if I had done the right thing or not. Those guys were messing with what they thought was a kid on a bike, and I totally showed them up.

On Saturday night I went bowling with friends from church. Our game was ended early as a T-Rex stormed the lanes and started attacking people. Soon, he gave up on eating people and decided his own flesh was tastier. I got this shot just before he ripped off his arm and spewed the bloody ligament in my direction. We barely made it out of there alive...but just for the note, I did bowl a 158.

From bowling we went to dinner. I'm always amazed at the mess a large party of people can leave. Maybe it's because food in Japan is served in small portions, so there are so many plates. Although there is something beautiful about disaster.

My friend Kaori graces the night of karaoke.


One of the many stained glass window that decorates my church in Kobe. I've been particularly attracted to these windows because Jesus, the angels, and the disciples are depicted with asian features. The church was originally built by a Chinese congregation and I imagine this is why Jesus is seen with slanted eyes. I really enjoy that aspect though, because I think people should relate to Jesus in way that is most comfortable to them. During worship, I look up to the great windows and the images remind me of where I am, and how international God's message is. We are people of one, united in Christ's love.

My morning ride to school

Brother Sean asked me to write about riding to school every morning. At first I thought it wasn`t a very creative idea because there never seemed to be anything interesting during my morning bike ride. Over the past few weeks though, as I ride to school, I have been consciously thinking about the suggestion that Sean made. The more and more I thought about it, the more things started to appear to me. Suddenly, every detail in the road deemed itself worthy of a paragraph! So, thanks to my brother`s kind suggestion, I have tried my best at describing the events of my morning bike ride to school:

I usually leave my dreary apartment around 7:50 or 8:00. I should technically leave earlier, as I always find myself in a dire race to get to school by 8:25. By leaving earlier, I suppose I would make a more peaceful morning for myself...but the allure of my daily "shower" keeps me soaking in the hot water much longer than I should. My predecessor also told me that it is best to get to school fifteen minutes before I am required to, however I have yet to find truth to this statement, as all I do when I get there early is sit at my desk and clean the sleep out of my eyes. So, like it or not, I usually arrive at 8:20 with a handful of suggestive glances telling me "Oh, here comes the ALT...Couldn`t he have come at 6am like the rest of us?"

Back at my apartment, I unlock my bike from the community bike-parking area. Above me are low-hanging spider webs, growing in size and scale every day that I look. I think my particular bike spot is a Charlotte`s Web paradise. I jump on my bike, roll out of the parking lot, and enter the main road exiting my neighborhood.
At this time in the morning, I usually see other students riding to school--the boys donned in their navy-looking, black jackets...the girls complete with their long skirts blowing in the crisp fall air. I don`t know how these girls will manage to wear skirts in the winter, but I know it is part of their uniform, and therefore they must. Sharing the road in the morning are elderly people walking their dogs, and a handful of elementary children, waiting for the bus in their blue and white caps. These little children are usually the most friendly, sometimes answering me with an "Ohayo Gozaimasu" when I greet them.

As I leave my neighborhood and enter onto the main road, I quickly come to the first place of notice. This is a taxi company. Every morning there are three of four men sitting in their black taxis, sipping on coffee, reading the newspaper, or sleeping in a reclined seat. They are perhaps finishing their night shift, or beginning a fresh hour of their work day. I think by now they have come to recognize me, not because they look up in recognition, but the opposite--they don`t seem to care anymore when I pass by. My foreign impact has worn off along my morning bicycle route.
Next, I cross a bridge that spans the Yumisaki River. This river is a decently sized, perhaps twice as large as the Roanoke river. However, it is not deep; perhaps the deepest place measuring only two feet. From the place that I cross, the river travels 5 miles south, and dumps its fresh water into the Sea of Japan. By looking at all the trash along the banks,one would think this river is polluted. But, as I ride across, I can clearly see the rocks glistening on the bottom of the river bed. Sometimes I see big fish, slowly gliding through the water. Their gentle pace often reminds me of my hurrying. How nice it would be to be that fish down there....swimming against the current of the river...weaving through the grassy reeds.
I suddenly come to a stop light, complete with a McDonalds on the corner. This begins the next 2 miles of commercial gloom: car dealerships, junk shops, gas stations, fast food stores, and a casino. It is here that I practically get hit everyday by a car because I ride against traffic. I`ve also almost collided with other bikers, accidently riden through a closed-off construction site, and been drenched with the spray of cars speeding through puddles. It is a bad stretch of road.
Soon after, I turn off the busy road, and head towards a smaller neighborhood that eventually leads to my school. I pass another high school, where I constantly dodge dozens of students making a right turn into the school`s driveway (remember traffic flows on the left side of the road). I cross railroad tracks where a train sometimes passes through. This usually sends me to a state of panic, as I glance at my watch and wonder how I will ever make it to school in time. After crossing the tracks, I make another turn and the road narrows into a small neighborhood. Here the streets are only wide enough for one car to pass. A concrete stream runs along one side of the road. I can peek through the stone walls and peer into private Japanese gardens.

At this point in my trip, I sometimes see a fellow teacher who rides his bike to work. This gentleman lives in the same apartment complex as I do, and other teachers think he is weird for choosing to make the adventurous bike ride to school. Of course, it is not weird that I ride my bike to school, because I am the homely ALT, and I deserve nothing better. In describing this fellow teacher, I would choose to use the same word: wierd. Well, maybe not wierd. Unique. Yes, he is a very unique and funny man. For one, he is a short man, smaller than myself, and when he speaks he uses the loudest, most offensive voice one could ever imagine. In the teachers room he is always in a hurry, running this way and that along the wooden floors. He sits in the far corner of the teachers room, where he has created his own personal space: a desk cluttered high with scientific papers, a collection of leftover food stacked on a cabinet, and a series of newspaper cut-outs following every typhoon ever to hit Japan, and every hurricane ever to hit North America. Being the science teacher that he is, he is obsessed with natural disasters; the most exciting of those being catastrophic storms. Each morning at school he flips through the newspapers near my desk, muttering under his breath while violently cutting out weather pattern charts and articles. He is the brunt of humor in the teachers room, whether he realizes it or not.
So, sometimes this teacher and I see each other on the way to school. He doesn`t speak English, so we have never really had a conversation together...not to mention I`m not sure if I would like to have a conversation with him. The first few times I saw him, I just blew by him on my bike. He rides increadibely fast, considering the bike that he uses, but on smooth pavement he is no match for me. Each time I would pass him on the way to school I sensed a spirit of competetiveness between us. I think it bothered him that the new guy at school was not only hogging his bicycle route, but he was also beating him to school! On one particular day, I passed him on the road, about five minutes from school. This time I said "Konichiwa", and he nearly jumped off his seat and exclaimed, "Ha!" Unbeknownst to me, the race was on! I soon got slowed down by some students on a one-way path, and tottered along at a slow pace for a couple hundred yards. We soon emptied out onto a big road again, and I slowly passed the students ahead of me. Then, like lightning from the sky, the science teacher whisked by me, with his back as straight as a board, and his legs pedalling as fast as they would go! He beamed a smile at me as he sped past and let out another "haaarrgghh", which could only mean "Bring It On!" To tell you the truth, he looked like a crazed madman. I laughed the hardest I have laughed so far in Japan. Unfortunately for him, I took a short-cut to the school that he doesn`t know about, and I arrived at school with tears in my eyes, minutes ahead of my racing friend.

Within the proximity of where that race began, there is a large in bend in the road. At the end of the bend, teachers often stand out on the street and help direct traffic in the dangerous intersection. So, often times I will find female students stopped, and gathered at the beginning of the bend. At first I wondered why these girls were always stopped there, but soon the answer occured to me. Each of the students was fixing their hair or tucking in their shirts, or talking on a cell phone. This exact spot on the road, was the last place they could not be seen by the teachers. So, it was here that the girls adjusted their uniforms, put their hair up, or made last minute calls on a cell phone that they are not allowed to own. Soon I was able to pick out the same students parked there. I suppose they never really fear that I would report them of doing anything against school rules, so most of the time they just ignore me.

The last few minutes to school are pretty uneventful. I take the short cut that I previously mentioned, because it avoids going on the same road with the hundreds of other students on their bikes. When I pull into the faculty entrance to the school, the principal and a few other teachers are usually out there smoking cigarettes. I say "Good Morning" and they reply with big smiles. I park my bike in a row with other bikes, lock it up, and head into school.

matsuri nights

The famed Aboshi Matsuri, where lantern fighting is a common spectacle.



dusk over a dying field

sand, beans, and paper pulp

My new friend and fellow teacher, Hiroyuki, took me to his home town of Tittori, in Tottori prefecture. It is about three hours north of Himeji by car. Tottori is most famous for its sand dunes. Facing the Sea of Japan, this only system of dunes within Japan, stretches for 16km along the coast. Although it is a massive tourist destination, complete with a chair lift that brings tourists to a high look-out, I found it to be serenely beautiful. Having just spent a day at the Illinoise Dune National Park this summer, I couldn't help but compare the two. I think the Tottori dunes are much nicer because you don't look out over a nuclear reactor plant, like the dunes on Lake Michigan.


Of course there are camel rides for 1,800 yen ($18) and like Egypt, if you take a picture of the camel, you have to pay 500 yen. Hiro thought I could take a picture because he said, "you're American". So, I wandered around, looking like the bewildered tourist, and shot this photo from waist-height. I actually like how the head is cut off in the frame. I think it adds to the ambiguity of the scene; a nicely dressed japanese woman with camel, a decapitated friend, and standing in the middle of desert.

When I was walking back up the dunes, there was this older Japanese woman playing the hermonica while walking. I never pictured Japanese people playing the hermonica. I can only picture the guy from Blues Traveller, because he weight 300 pounds. This woman was tiny...and she was walking uphill...in the sand.

Hiro sensei, sportin' some moves.

After the dunes we moved onto see a temple that is built into a cliff-side. This temple called 'Nageiredo', the inner sanctum of the Sanbutsu-ji temple, is built on a seemingly inaccessible basalt cliff. It is believed to have been built in 760 A.D., but it is a mystery as to how it was constructed. We hiked about 500 meters straight up, climbing through tangled tree roots, and along cliffs with ropes attached for safety.

A Buddhist priest in the Sanbutsu-ji temple, sits waiting for a service to begin.
Monks walk along the stone paths.




I like this picture of Hiro because it feels rather gloomy. In Hiro's pose, he looks as if he is about to jump...to fly out over the trees, in hopes of a better life.
We found this amazing house built along the trail, that had a fully surrounding porch jutting out over the roof of the mountainside. From the corner of the porch you could look down 100 feet, or out over a deep valley full of rice fields. It was my dream treehouse location...and I will record the feeling in my head.


At the end of the day we went to a paper mill, because Tottori is famous for its fine Japanese paper. I payed to make four sheets of my own paper, complete with colorful bits of paper machet, and my own tacky decorations. However, the most special part was watching these two woman make the paper. Using a large bamboo screen, they run pulpy water over the frame until it is filled with a fine layer of paper pulp. Then, they lift the screen off the frame, apply it to the existing stack of drying paper, and slowly pry the screen away from the thin sheet of pulp. It is a such a maticulous procedure, but these women made it look so effortless and beautiful. That huge stack of wet paper, is then pressed for days at a time until all the water has been removed. Then, each sheet is seperated by hand, and placed on a large heated wall. This step fully removes the water so it can be pressed again, and then inspected.
We visited Hiro's grandmother's house deep in the countryside. Here in her old house, she was drying beans on a tatami mat, taking advantage of the warm sun from a beautiful fall day. I gave her one of my cards that I made at the paper mill, but I don't think she cared. I felt childish after that, realizing that this woman has all she needs in life. She lives simply, eats simply...dries her beans simply. Why would she ever need a colorful piece of paper to write on?

Nada Matsuri: Craziness with a capital ' C '

A crowd from Mega city surges after their shrine, chanting a war-like verse.

Almost a week ago I attended the famous Nada Fighting Festival, or "Nada-no-Kenka Matsuri". This annual festival of the Matsubara Hachiman Shrine involves hundreds of people carrying sacred palanquins, or shrines, on their shoulders and colliding them violently into each other. Each little neighborhood in the area is represented by their own potable shrine. About 150,000 people come out to watch people get hurt every year. Last year someone died, probably due to the palanquin crushing them. It has long been believed that the harder the palanquins collide, the more the Gods are pleased. So the festival sometimes escalates into a fight. You might be wondering why people do this, when the odds of getting hurt are so high. Well, drinking lots of alcohol before the event has one thing to do with it, and secondly, because it is an honor and almost a duty to represent your community. Other features included the parading of 200-300 year old decorated floats (weighing more than 2 tons each) and a ritual dance by dancers with a lion's mask. Within the floats, there are four taiko drummers, who keep a steady beat for hours on end. At one point the shrine is lifted and crashed into the ground repeatedly, but the drummers continue to drum. On the day I attended, I would guess there were 50,000 people watching. It was truly a spectacle.

There is lots of showmanship...even the old guys still know how to scream and look intimidating.





Perhaps the greatest thing about the matsuri are the outfits. All the men wear a traditional loin cloth called Fundoshi. These are reinforced loincloths, meant to protect a man from getting jabbed or having certain body parts become exposed. I saw one man helping another tie his loincloth from the back. The man actually lifted the guy off the ground as he tightened the knot! I can't imagine that they are comfortable. The men also wear special nylon booties that have webbed toes. Some of the booties have steel tips to prevent their foot from being crushed. I think they look like ninja turtles.
Right after this picture, the group of men surged towards me, and I was stuck in a corner between a large group of boys, jumping up and down, screaming some kind of chant. I was almost scary, as I used all my force to push against the crowd. In another instance, I was standing alongside a crowd, when a parade of men carrying the shrine, came around the corner at a great speed. Before I could stand out of the way, one of the men from the party, grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me, and threw me back into the crowd. Lucky for me that he did that, otherwise I would have been crushed two seconds later. But, it was unlucky for the old woman I was thrown into. I gave her a big "Sumimasen!" and stepped back onto the pathway after the party had passed by.





I put together a sequence shot because it vividly describes the crashing portion of the festival. Here in the thick of the crowd, I watched as these two shrines were rammed towards each other. There are about thirty guys carrying these shrines, and God only knows what it is like to be one of them, charging this massive, wooden shrine into thirty other men. In the sequence above, the shrine on the left overtook the shrine on the right with the help of the many men who use the long bamboo sticks to apply force to a shrine. The shrine on the right was flipped over in a matter of seconds with a defeaning crashing sound. I don't know how people can get out of the way so quickly, and perhaps they don't....that's why there are deaths and serious injuries.
Once a shrine is tipped over, the leader of the party will stand on top, shouting orders to the men below, as they reorganize. The shrine is once again resurrected, and the party turns to find the next fight. In this particular instance, after the shrine was knocked over, I saw a group of men from the conquering shrine, practically "capture" a leader from the other team. Ten or so men, surrounded this one guy and forced him away from his domain. I suppose it was a battle technique--to isolate the leader, therefore weaking the communication between the downed team. I'm sure there were all kind of tactics occuring right under my nose, however I was ignorant to most of it.
On a completely different note...there was a famous tennis player at the festival. He was sitting in the stands, and I was standing below him. Little did I know he was above me, until a crowd began to develop, and all hell broke loose. Suddenly, right before me, I had 200 people clicking away on their camera-phones and screaming "Matsuoka"!!! I think that's what his name is... I thought it was a great photo, and could have cared less about the tennis star.

WORD!

By STEPHEN S. HALL Several years ago, around the time the Food and Drug Administration was considering the use of human growth hormone to treat extremely short but otherwise normal children, researchers were working up the results of a large-scale psychology experiment involving hundreds of middle-school and high-school students in the Buffalo area - including some who were extremely short but otherwise normal. The students didn't know the study was about height. All they knew was that each of them had been asked to be the director of a class play. They were given thumbnail sketches of various characters in the drama - "a good leader," "teases others too much," "gets picked on" and so forth - and were then asked to cast the play by selecting classmates who best fit each role.

If short stature is a ticket to social prejudice and psychological purgatory, which has been the animating idea behind expanded use of growth hormone in the last 20 years, you would have expected the shortest children in the Buffalo study to be lining up to collect their Tonys in victimhood; they would have been nominated by classmates for every beleaguered role: being picked on, behaving shyly, acting withdrawn, being left out. But that, surprisingly, was not the case. A team of psychologists, led by David E. Sandberg at the University at Buffalo, concluded that a child's stature, whether tall or small, had "minimal detectable impact" on his or her social standing among schoolmates. At least in this setting, even extremely short children (those around the first percentile) made friends and earned the respect of their peers as easily as kids of average size.

fourteen

When my Uncle Jay was fourteen, he was sledding down a hill when a series of consecutive fourteens entered his life.

"I think I was in 6th or 7th grade. I was on a sheet of cardboard, sledding. Being very thin and porous, the sled went over a sharp rock and cut into my leg. I was 14. I got 14 stiches, on the 14th of Dec. I rode in a police car #14. Sometimes life is strange."

cultural confusions

Today was the Cultural Festival Day at my school. I was unsure of what this would actually involve, although I knew there would be food stands with good food. When it comes to food, I’m always on top of it. Today I was exposed to some of the horrors and some of the good things about culture day.
The morning started out with a big assembly involving lots of formal speeches, perfected in the typical Japanese way—precise and filled with lots of bowing. Then this paper-machet ball hanging from the ceiling was ripped apart and all this paper came down. That might have been my favorite part.
Soon enough, each class started to present their class performance. Shockingly, this started out with a big group of girls, dancing in cheerleading outfits to some kind of American techno song. It was quite surreal sitting there watching these girls skillfully execute their practiced moves.


Is this how American culture is perceived in Japan? Surely not I thought, and soon enough my hypothesis would be proven correct--for soon to present were the rest of the classes with their own equally complicated dance routines.
I’m not sure what it is about Japanese high school students and dancing. Perhaps it is only my school. Every single performance from the classes that day involved synchronized dances usually in step to some cheesy techno. It was the most repetitive talent show I have ever seen, and yet every student loved performing, and loved watching. I mean, these kids have spent weeks practicing their dances after school. For them, this one moment on stage is bigger than appearing before your school as Prom King or Prom Queen.
An even bigger attraction to these dances is that most of the boys choose to don girls’ school uniforms. It was kind of funny the first time—seeing skinny boys on stage, dancing around in wigs and short skirts. But as each class continued to do the exact same act, I was just wishing for the whole things to be over.


This made me think about how insecure the typical Japanese student is. At my school, I have never witnessed students acting out alone, or forming some form of independence. Students do everything in pairs, in fear of having to stand alone by themselves. Every speech given today was in pairs, every student that ever comes to talk to me brings a friend, and every student that I call upon in class, always looks immediately to a friend for self-confidence. I think that Japanese students are constantly being forced into following rules and structure, that when it comes time for them to act as individuals, they are actually afraid to—or they have not yet learned how to. So, although there were some ridiculous performances today, each was exactly the same. It was as if the students were given this one day to let their personalities have no limits, yet they all cowered out by choosing to do the exact same thing as everyone else. I imagine that every year is exactly the same, and will continue to be so for quite some time. Dressing up as girls is fun, and synchronized dancing looks nice…but where is the real talent? I just can’t believe that all these students have to show for their creative ability are some kitchy dances.
Though, while in my brooding of judgemental thoughts, I was requested to help with one of the class performances. What would I be doing? Oh yes, dressing up like a girl….I should have guessed! So, I relented and decided to be the good bearer of international exchange, especially since it was culture day. In the end it was a fun experience. A fellow teacher and I worked out a little introduction for the classes’ performance. I wore a girls uniform, skirt and all, while Morita Sensei wore a boys uniform. It actually felt good to be involved with something that the students care about, as opposed to English class, which they could hardly raise an eyebrow to. I think that seeing me in such a silly context made the students more comfortable to talk with me. Today I actually had three or four conversations lasting longer than one minute.

I just could not resist.

The rest of the day was tiring, but somewhat enjoyable. I did try a great assortment of food because each table was very eager to make sure I tried what they made. By the time I made it around the floor, I was holding five plates of food, each a fairly sized portion.
Culturally, the day seemed to be lacking. I felt like the only cultures represented were modern Japan, and a skewed form of MTV America. Perhaps the biggest cultural difference that the students learned, was when they looked at my legs and remarked about how much hair I have. Truly, what a brilliant observation!

Nara retreat...oh what a treat

This past weekend I went to a retreat with Christians from around Japan. Most of the people were English teachers (JET`s), but there were also people with other jobs, including a few Japanese. I met people from Uraguay, England, Canada, China, Taiwan, Germany, and Latvia. I even met a girl who was married in Roanoke, went to Roanoke College for summer school, and thinks she has probably driven by my house on her way back from Wal-Mart!! Sometimes the world feels so small.
We had the retreat in a youth hostel that accommodated us perfectly. We were met with the kindest staff, clean rooms, and good food. In my opinion, the highlight of the hostel was the public bath, which I am beginning to admire more and more in my life in Japan. It`s really great to end each day with a warm cleansing, while chatting with other men about particularly frivolous topics.
The retreat weekend was clearly that--a retreat from my usual hussle and bussle of each week. I cannot express the great joy I had during this time because I was surrounded by newly found friends in Christ. It was amazing to see the comradery that developed between our group of thirty-five. Witnessing this over and over in my life has become a stronghold in the continuation of my faith. To add to that, the speaker and the music team brought great times of reflection and worship to the weekend. In comparison to other retreats that I have been on, this one felt family-made. Everyone was working or contributing their own skills to improve the quality of the retreat.
I came away from the weekend with a line from a song that really stuck with me. The verse goes,
"Lord renew my mind
As Your will unfolds in my life
In living every day
By the power of Your love"
The line "as your will unfolds in my life" really spoke to me because of the word "unfold". I began to think that my life is like an origami crane. Before I was born, I was just a piece of paper. Then God began to shape me, and in each fold, he wrote down a chapter of my life. When I entered the world I was a beautiful crane. With each passing day, God unfolds that crane according to his plan, but he only reveals one word at a time. My life is revealed to me when God sees fit. It is impossible for me to know what is ahead, or what the next day may bring.
With this thought, I was brought to peace about my future. I was reminded to trust the Lord every day, and seek to be renewed. The last line concludes that it is by God`s love that we can do all this, and it is by His love that he always renews us. It is a common pattern that I run away from God, but he is constantly after me. Even in the far stretches of the world, God provides a place for me to be challenged, encouraged, and met in loving fellowship.

We were fortunate to have the retreat in such a great location. Nara is one of the old capitals of Japan, and it is said that the first state was located in Nara. Nara is also a home of various World Heritage sites such as Todaiji Temple, Horyuji Temple, and others including numerous Buddhist art and architecture sites classified as National Treasures and Important Cultural Assets.






The great Tadaiji Temple where the Buddha statue sits. This picture does no justice to the scale of this impressive wooden structure.



At 15m, This world-famous Daibutsu (Big Buddha of Nara), built in 752 AD, is none other than Birushana. It is breath-taking. As early as the Heian Period (794 - 1192 AD), devotees of Esoteric Buddhism worshipped the Dainichi Nyorai as the central Buddha of the universe, the so-called Cosmic Buddha. What is often forgotten, however, is that Dainichi (or Dai Nichi) originated from an earlier Buddhist deity named Vairocana, called Birushana in Japan. When I entered the temple I think I was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the structure. It has been a long time since I have entered a building with such open space. The effect reminded me of when I went into the Hagia Sophia mosque in Istanbul. Both of these structures were dark, cool, and strangely quiet because the noise of visitors is swept into the high ceilings. Both structures felt as if they had a presence, but whether that is Allah, or Buddha, or the effect of ingenious architecture…I side with the latter.



Nara is also famous for the deer park that surrounds much of the touristy temple area. It is perhaps one of the most amusing things I have ever seen. Hundreds of deer roam free throughout the streets, parks, and temple areas. The deer are supposedly messengers of the gods, so the deer park is considered holy. I would hardly use that word to begin to describe the state of this park. It was more like a crazy mayhem. Little kids are terrified of the deer, which results in hundreds of screaming children running around as their parents videotape the whole scene and continue to stuff deer with crackers. The deer of course, are so accustomed to these free meals, that they become overly excited and sometimes attack peoples` purses or pockets. I couldn`t bring myself to touch them. Due to the smell and look of their hair, I quickly imagined the many parasites just waiting to jump onto my skin. The site is truly fascinating though, and I would recommend anyone coming to Japan to make it a must see.



I followed this guy around the corner of a temple. I think he was sick. I approached him, and he stayed in place. Then I started to take a picture. Just as I was about to click the shutter, he stretched his hind legs out, as if in a last effort to show some dignity apart from his sorrowful condition.

Our hostel was located close to a theme park called "Dreamland". One morning at 7:30, I went for a walk behind the hostel. I came upon the staff entrance of Dreamland and soon heard a distant sound of instruments. I ventured inside the park, coming across this beautiful sight of decaying pool chairs. As I followed the sound of the music, it led me through various parts of the park. It was an eerie place. It reminded me of the ill-feeling I get when going to cheap summer fairs, or shopping in ugly strip malls built back in the 1970`s. Dreamland had obviously been beautiful at one time; a place that children spent countless nights longing for their parents to take them. But now, Dreamland was forgotten by many, and the crumbling paint, and decrepit souvenir shops told stories of more glorious days. I finally came to an empty water park, and there, on puddle filled concrete, a group of suited musicians were warming up their instruments. The sound was similar to what you would hear at the beginning of a high school band practice, but in this case, the awkward sound complimented the strange surroundings. About thirty people were spread throughout the water park. Both men and women wore striking black suits that contrasted against the white of the concrete. As I walked throughout this scene, each player would continue to play, but bow in recognition as I passed them. It was the strangest scene, but overwhelmingly beautiful. I felt like I was in a photographer`s Dreamland, and this was the best ride in the park.





A cloudy sunrise over a baseball field.

neighborhood shots

I've been wanting to go in this decrepit arcade near my house because it was just so lonely looking. I was thinking, "what kid would ever go in that place?" Ironically, when I looked inside today, I discovered this is no ordinary arcade. Each "UFO Cather" was filled not with stuffed animals, but with porn videos. So that's why it looked so sad--because it really is.

reassuring words from brother Sean

It is nice to hear from you. Right now i am in a cafe in Lusaka Zambia. It took a long time to get here and we had some crazy experiences. The car had a bit of trouble and we broke down in the middle of the bush-- 80 km away from lusaka. Yes, i think i have malaria. OR i did. I got sick twice-- first time just a night and the second time just a day. Since i have taken meds, it has masked the bad symptoms. i never took a test the second time so i dont actually know. But ya, i think i have it. It isnt that bad and EVERYONE has it here. When the misquitos get bad, everyone gets it.

waking to sickness

Last night I woke up at 3am with a bad feeling in my stomach. You know that feeling--the one where you just know you are going to throw up. In my dazed state of mind, I thought back six hours to what I had previously eaten.
On my way home from Japanese class I stopped at the grocery store and picked up the basics, including a quick dinner of a few "Koroke". These delicious delectables are usually made of mashed potatos, vegetables, cheese, and curry. the mixture is covered in bread crumbs and then deep fried. The final product looks like a McDonald's hashbrown, and has the consistency of a chicken nugget.
When I got home, I garbled down four korokes while drinking staight from a gallon of orange juice. A proper bachelor wouldn't do it any other way! Little did I know that my choice of food and drink would have such an adverse effect on my lower abdomen.
So, back to 3am. The pain aroused me from my slumber like a gentle mother waking her newborn. Then, I was hit with a ton of bricks as my mind led me to where the pain was coming from. I knew it right at that moment....

I'm going to throw up.

So to the bathroom I headed, dreading the next five minutes, but anticipating the great feeling of when it would be over. I threw up twice that night, each time kicking myself for being such an irresponsible person with my diet. Now, the mention of the word "Koroke", or even looking at it might bring me to gags.

I remember so well when I was 13 and my older brother Ryan came home late one night. He had been with friends and eating a late night dinner at the Omlette Shop. I think there were some drinks involved too. Just as Ryan was getting into the other bed in our room, he leaned over and threw up his recently digested meal. I could clearly tell it was Huevos Rancheros: eggs with salsa. After cleaning the mess up after him, I remember thinking that the smell would always resonate with me. To this day, I cannot eat Huevos Rancheros. Eggs are fine, and salsa is great....but put the two together, and I'm a man looking for a toilet.
I hope I'm not eternally cursed from eating koroke, because I do love them. Besides, as a single guy in Japan with no cooking skills, what am I supposed to eat?

walkabouts

This weekend I joined a club called Kansai International Outdoor Club. We tackled Mount Bunagatake. At 1,300 meters, it stands as the tallest mountain in the Hira-san range. This is located around the Lake Biwa area...about 30 miles north west of Kyoto. At the summit a helicopter circled our group and came unusually close. We waved a lot, and a passenger waved back. I felt like we were being rescued from a failed mountaineering expedition.

At the summit, I was two thousand feet higher than most of the mountains in Virginia. Yet, if I squinted, the hazy blue ridges resembled my beloved Appalachian mountains, and I felt like I was back at home.

Saturday stands as one of the best days I’ve had in Japan so far. I met some really kind people, and experienced the true countryside of Japan. It was great to be on such a trip, and not have to worry about where to go or how to get there. Our group of ten people, one American (plus myself), a Frenchman, and the rest Japanese, hiked for 8 hours that day. We started in the rolling countryside, moved into dense forest with magnificent waterfalls, and reach the summit of Mount Bunagatake, a sparse peak littered with beech trees. The rest of the hike would take us through fields of susuki--a large pampas grass, along swamp plains filled with black lizards, and to a deserted ski resort that had an eerie ghotst-town resemblence. I saw deer, two large snakes, and many interesting beetles.


Here my friend Ken waits in front of a waterfall to climb down a cliff. Ken was a very cool man. He works for Kawasaki as an engineer. Not only did Ken sing some American jazz tunes for me, but he also unveiled an amazing fact about himself. Ken is a world championship competitor on the International Yahtzee circuit. Last month in Canada, he placed tenth in the world and came points from moving into the finals. I asked him if Yahtzee requires any strategy, or if it is all luck. He said there is some strategy, but admitted it was mostly luck and mostly about drinking beer. In two years, he will go to South Africa to try his luck…I mean skill, once again.


double the nature to conquer the city.

If I had a girlfriend, I would buy her this sweater. Or I would learn how to knit, and I would make one for her.