Kiyomizu dera mou ikkai

Here begins another picture parade! I (hopefully) already wrote about my visit to Kiyomizu Temple in Kyoto. Well, when the leaves change color for the Fall, everything changes, so I decided to head over again with some friends and take a look. As expected, it was gorgeous. 

Trees with leaves painted as vivid a red as this one are unusual and highly prized, though there are many different shades of red that are equally as beautiful. Japanese tourists also were stopping to snap shots, and I heard some people's host families routinely collect, freeze, and use such red leaves throughout the year for decorations and foodstuffs (maple leaves especially are somewhat sweet). 

The entire mountain was aflame with the colors of Autumn. You can see it in the background. This area, note, is not actually part of Kiyomizu Temple, but a walkway through a number of shrines and temples in the vicinity. 

And the obligatory pond stocked with fish easily the length of my forearm. The fish are a little scary, but the view is breath-taking. 

And a bridge leading to some temples and the like that we did not visit. This is one of the few bridges over these Japanese style ponds that I've seen that you can actually cross. Most are built to be beautiful, not functional.

And Christmas had come even here. Note the Christmas balls and garland lining this archway on the Temple grounds. I do not, admittedly, know what this place was, but even so, I thought it worth noting.

Fortune booths like this one function on the honor system. As stated before, these omikuji are small slips of paper containing one's fortune. Most of my friends purchased one, and someone checked and found that indeed, fortunes of the same date (it's arranged by birth date) contained different fortunes, so it really is random (I don't know if they will be cursed for checking, though)!

As night fell, places began to light up. I have a few pictures of Kiyomizu Temple at night taken with my friend's camera (mine is not that great and couldn't handle anything once dusk well and truly settled in) that I will dig up and add later.

And finally, what says freindship but a picture like this. Amusingly, the girl next to me I met in the customs line coming into Japan, and we have (by similar coincidence) ended up on the same plane leaving Japan. Weird, I must say, and awesome. I guess life is just like that...and I don't mind :D

Biwako (Lake Biwa)

...is famous in Japan, supposedly (read straight from the title, and this line will actually make sense). I had not heard of it but in passing until my host mother suggested a trip down to the area, which really ended up being a drive-by - well, it is winter, so I suppose there wasn't much else to do at the lake but see it, and it was very impressive. The entire trip reminded me very much of home, since we first set out on a winding road between massive, tree-blanketed hills and broad stretches of low-lying farmland. It was a wonderfully crisp and frigid day, clear but for a couple wispy clouds overhead, and the air had settled with that curious hollowness peculiar to such days over the surprisingly green fields. Here and there people were burning things, I suppose, and the smoke curled up pleasantly and spread in an opaque fog beneath the snowy caps of the taller hills (I'm not sure if they technically would be considered mountains, even with the evident ski-lifts). As for the trees on those hills, they were a vivid mixture of reds, golds, greens, and stark branches bared to the sky.

The lake itself also reminded me of home for various reasons. At any rate, the most remarkable portion was probably the, again supposedly, famous Biwa Bridge. Now, if you think it's famous for the reasons bridges are usually famous (it's long, old, constructed with high-tech components, etc) you would be wrong. There is a song that goes along with the Biwa lake (need I say again, supposedly famous - note that biwa is actually the word for an Japanese stringed instrument as well). That isn't as random a comment as it seems. Roll down your window on the bridge, and the acoustics between the wind, the car, and the bridge actually play the Biwa lake song as you drive....pure awesomeness!!

Of course, I discovered soon enough that the trip, which was surprisingly far, was not just for sight-seeing. So it was that I first saw my host father's workplace - a large hospital in the middle of nowhere - and delivered a box of scrumptious (I ate one before we took them) cream puffs. I don't really like cream that much, so I can attest to the fact that if anyone does cream puffs right, it's the people in Japan. Anyway, it was overall a lot of fun.

We also went to a small shrine there (brought my friend again), and I will soon look up the relationship it had with Nobunaga (I've been reading one of my host brother's historical manga, so we both wanted to see it). 

My host mother explained the pair of dogs, "a (ah)" and "un (oon)," twins who guard the gates in the shrines. Pictured here is the dragon at the hand purification well.  

And the entrance to the shrine itself.

Returning to Matsugasaki, I thought to post a couple pictures of my everyday life. First of all, a few glorious looks at the local hillsides. Matsugasaki is fairly far out in the country, despite being a busy city itself, so it really is beautiful from day to day.

Recently, I also caught a glimpse of a rainbow when coming home. I was with a Japanese friend, and when I mentioned that Americans believed in a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow (imagine his confusion) he suggested that the rainbow appeared to end in Matsugasaki, so I should hurry and retrieve the treasure! Well, he was right of course, and I did not feel the need to explain to him about fighting off leprachauns as well, so I went to take a look. Of course, the rainbow had faded before I reached its end, so I didn't find my gold. But a picture is just as good!

Here's the rainbow a little earlier, when I first glimpsed it in town and decided to chase it down.

On another note, Japanese children believe that Santa works at KFC, and lives in the Netherlands =D Oh dear!

Nara Nara Shika Shika

Nara is known for it's shika (deer). Yes, that's right - deer. Small, dog-like creatures that follow people around begging for food, headbutting them for attention, and in return allowing themselves to be pet, coddled, combed, washed, and bred for the local entertainment. I'm a fan, personally. I mean, look at this gorgeous creature chomping away at carefully prepared deer food (which is sold for a reasonable price nearby because they just can't keep people from feeding the "wild" animals and probably figure this is better than PB&J). Note that I don't even think the deer is actually awake.

 He's also not alone. Hundreds of these deer travel in herds around the local parks, and I'm told you can discern which herd a deer belongs to purely by how fat they are - fatter deer live in the more frequently traveled tourist areas. There were a number of babies around, many females, and a few males - horns neatly removed - discernible by their thicker, longer coats. The deer lose their spots in the winter, when their winter coats grow in, but this is as big as they'll grow. Like I said, dog-sized.

The ground is covered in deer droppings, of course, since there are large numbers of deer eating large amounts of food all the time in all the local parks. However, fear not! The local authorities vaccinate, worm, and otherwise care for the deer, so petting and or allowing them to eat food directly out of your mouth should not result in any serious communicable diseases. By the way, the headquarters for deer care in Nara is this building:

A non-descript building with no clear purpose unless you know what it is, I must say. I think it's wonderful that they take care of the wildlife, if they know that people are going to approach the deer anyway. As for why they take such good care of them - the deer are messengers of the local kami (deities). Eating or harming the deer in any way would be a grave offense, and in fact, caring for them is the proper answer (so feed them lots of senbei - deer food - and the kami will be happy).

Now for the picture line-up. This is a five story pagoda that is one of few remaining parts of the larger local temple. All of the areas were burned down multiple times in inter-temple disputes (ah yes, the peaceful past of Japan filled with its warrior monks and political sects) and most of which were finally no longer rebuilt (it costs a lot to rebuild these things over and over). The structure on the top is a dew catcher, if I remember correctly, and differs in design for each temple around Japan.

This is part of the same structure. It was possible to pay to enter and see the riches of the temple, but it was fairly expensive. The pagoda was, as are all pagoda, supposedly, empty. Many are built over sacred objects not meant for the common human eye.

Wandering farther down the path brings one to this "octagonal building" which I hear was quite extraordinary on the night of the tsunami, with the wind howling through the eaves and ringing the gong:

I rang it, too, for good measure, and dropped in a 5-yen coin. There was also a nearby massive bell that I desperately wanted to ring, mostly because it had a sign reading something along the lines of "Don't ring temple bells" which really said nothing about that particular bell....

This prayer gong was present at the building next to the other pagoda, just for comparison. It was much taller, and slightly more popular. I am not sure precisely what deities were present at the respective shrines. Anyway, wandering behind the octagonal building, the sounds from the open grounds nearer the more famous pagodas instantly faded into a comfortable silence. The shade of the local hardwoods spread and encompassed the path, shivering as their leaves whispered softly in the breeze. There, nestled among these trees, was a picturesque little three-story pagoda. Compared to its larger, more impressive counterpart, it seemed somehow finely built and strangely feminine. While the other pagoda was "impressive" this one could only be called "cute." I was asked which I liked better, but I really feel they were not comparable.

Leading away from the quaint pagoda was a path to the local love shrine, which I hear may have once been larger before it was reconstructed as it lost popularity, becoming a small, corner shrine on a busy street. It was closed when we came by, so we peered through the gate at the leaf-strewn grounds, enjoying the usual charged atmosphere of the "love" shrines. 

Across from the love shrine was a crowded city street down which cars, bicycles, and people ran willy-nilly. The most difficult part of navigating Japanese streets is most likely the fact that many seem to not be marked off as specific to pedestrian or vehicular travel, particularly in the shopping districts and festival areas. My friends and I simply wandered across the streets, while cars crawled slowly through the even more crowded regions. I have found, however, that drivers seem to sometimes take the same view as bicyclists - if I go faster, I can squeeze in between. The result is simply drivers speeding at 80mph down quiet residential streets. I'm not so sure that is the proper outcome, but it may be unavoidable, all things considered. However, nowhere but in Japan does natural meet civilized in quite so jarring a fashion. Directly across from the crowded shopping district was this beautiful lake:

Closer examination found it to be filled with tiny fish and snapping turtles (though they were all hibernating for the winter, according to a local who stopped by for a brief chat).

The white specks are bread, I believe, which the hundreds of thousands of tiny fish were happily enjoying.

And this was the other side of the lake. It was not that big, but it was very beautiful, like a mirror to the sky. I will leave you with that image for now, and go to worry over my packing...how many layers of clothing must I wear to make 50 lbs, I wonder...

tarento (Talent) shou (show)

So, every year our program puts together a talent show at the end of the semester for students to show off the skills they learned and/or utilized in their community involvement projects. This year, these included a dance by a student who had joined a street dancing club, two Christmas carols sung by choir students, a rakugo (relaxed speech) presentation (essentially, a yukata clad individual sits on a cushion and with the help of only a fan and their creativity tell a store using their facial expressions, actions, and simple words - it is a one man play, and hugely entertaining - the goal of the show is to make the audience laugh), a presentation on a language created by a group of linguists some time ago and now spoken by a number of people worldwide, a viola player, and the kyudou forms. In case no one had guessed, I was the one showing off the kyudou forms, and apparently my "air arrows" were pretty cool, fueling the running joke that I moonlight as a Japanese superhero (shooting spirit arrows at demons invisible to normal people). I also set the background powerpoint slides to go a bit longer than I should have, and got nervous when I ended up ahead of my slides; the result was a conspicuous nod that apparently made it look like I knew what I was doing. Well, all I can say is that I'm glad someone at least thought I looked cool.

The two images above are actually of one of Kyoto's biggest temples, located in the heart of the city (or at least, near my school and in a busy area). I visited with a group of friends to enjoy a large flea market held there on the 25th of every month. I ended buying a kimono and an obi, which I fervently hope (though I only spent about $50 on kimono trimmings in my stay here) I will actually be able to figure out how to wear. I now have Halloween costumes for the next several years :)

As with most temples, this one had a variety of interesting features, including these lined up lanterns of varying heights. My assumption has always been that when these lanterns are lit they ward off dangerous spirits, but of course, I do not know the real reason. They are certainly fun to look at, however, and taking a picture from the short end makes for an interesting perspective picture. The guardian at the end definitely does protect the temple, and there were several situated around the gates and grounds. Around the same area were a pair of cows which, if you pet their heads and then your head, will supposedly make you smarter. Needless to say, temples dedicated to helping students pass their exams are relatively common throughout Japan (and well utilized). There are also interesting structures like that below, which includes a variety of racks with candles placed at varying heights. Again, I do not understand the meanings behind many of these things, but I can say that people definitely utilize them.

Fair food is definitely important here. If visiting Japan, try to attend one of these flea markets or festivals, where one can purchase Taiyaki (fish shaped fried bread typically filled with red bean paste, but also with macha (green tea), custard, chocolate, caramel, etc. depending on the location of the stand), takoyaki (fried balls of octopus and bread), candied apples, fried chicken, and a variety of other regional and seasonal goods. Crepes are also delicious, through slightly different from their French counterparts.

The temple had an interesting display of images above a public seating area, probably monks or other famous peoples associated with the temple in the past. Some were framed and hung like these, others were murals painted onto the wood of the seating area itself. Either way, the look was fantastic.






I have mentioned before that there is something majestic about the Japanese temple. This is true for many of them, though the more I visit, the more I get the sense that each temple has a very different character. There are some that are small and rarely visited by anyone but the locals, and they have an old, gentle feel to them. Bigger, tourist-filled temples are bustling and seem somewhat to lack some spirituality in certain cases, while retaining all of their glory in others. Temples dedicated to academics are often filled with exam students, and have a strangely heavy air about them (perhaps the atmosphere from desperate individuals filing through), while those for love are always charged with a certain indescribable energy.

Without a doubt, going to the different temples to experience all of these varying "atmospheres" is interesting. Fortunes are also available at the shrines, usually written on pieces of paper drawn at random (or based on birth date, which is arguably still random) called Omikuji. Draw at your own risk, since a large proportion of such fortunes do not entail particularly good luck - then again, you can just tie them to the nearest tree and have them negated, so somehow it seems like there is no need to worry.

Interesting stones and tablets like this one are also common around temple grounds. Perhaps one day I will put in the energy to translate some of the kanji (assuming I can) but it seems many native Japanese speakers also do not understand. Maybe ancient secrets are written on these gently shaded, secluded stones. It's fun to imagine such a possibility.

Kimono wo kite iru toki no Kyudou

And so begins what I would again call a special addition, since I have already discussed in some detail my involvement with the kyudou dojo here in Kyoto. If given some advance notice that someone is officially moving on from the dojo (because they are moving to another city or some such) it is quite normal to have a bit of fanfare while seeing them off. In my and my friends' case, sensei brought her kimono and dressed us up for photographs. The extremely long sleeves of the kimono in the picture above are worn only by young, unmarried women (incidentally, "were" worn only by young women, since they are somewhat difficult to wear and so are not favored by any women nowadays). This picture is also, perhaps, testament to what happens when a photo is taken of a Japanese person in a serious "location" (i.e., the dojo) - notice the serious expression. I assure you, he was smiling before and after the picture...

It may also be important to point out the shrine above my friends' picture, which is the dojo shrine (it is not really religious, as far as I know, but spiritual in a sense nonetheless) to which we bow at the beginning and end of every practice.

Certainly, wearing the kimono itself is not that difficult, as this image suggests. The yumi (bow) is of a standard height, as the length of the arrows depends on the length of the arm of the one firing them. In fact, the bow I use is strung with a weight of 8 kilograms, which is, as far as I know, the lowest possible weight. I can also use a 9 and a 10 Kg, though my arms are generally tired after a fire rounds (I did not realize on the last day how tired my arms were until I got home), and I stare in awe at those who use a 12 Kg. Of course, I have other issues as well, such as hitting myself on the arm with the bowstring (resulting in as series of bruises on my forearm) and routinely cutting myself with the feathers (yes! feathers can cut you and it hurts!). I did get my first bulls-eye, though. It felt awesome.

The temple in the back of the image is actually the kendo dojo that faces the kyudou dojo (swordfighting and archery, respectively). It, however, makes a somewhat more impressive backdrop for a photo.

Now, as you might imagine, firing a bow with sleeves somewhere in the region of 3 feet long is difficult. Thus, you tie them back. Here sensei is folding them into a strip of cloth that is traditionally used tied around the body specifically to tie back kimono sleeves. Imagine a great deal of "ooh-ing" and "ah-ing" in the background, coming from a wide audience of Japanese men and women who have never tied back such long sleeves (nor needed to) and are in supposed awe of the process. Did I mention that I was dressed up as well? I love playing the doll, or perhaps mascot, of the dojo.

Firing an arrow then requires the remainder of the regular preparations. These include putting on the standard two-finger glove for drawing the bow, and a chest protector for women (with a kimono, the standard is to use a clear chest protector so that the pattern of the kimono remains visible - normally, I use a latticed white one, and I have seen latticed black ones as well, which I think look quite sharp). Notice the length of fabric on the glove; I have never encountered a sport with so many ties and knots, all made to look as beautiful as possible. There is definitely an art to properly tying (it took me nearly a minute to spell out the word 'tying,' meaning that I have clearly been studying Japanese for too long). I spent more time learning knots (obi, hakama, glove, and the all-important wrappings for the bow) then I spent learning the forms...

And finally, the shot!

What an adventure. Kyudou is definitely worth the time and effort. Given the chance, give it a try!

^^

Kyudou ga sukina no

I have been saying all along that I am participating in kyudou, or Japanese archery, here in Kyoto, but I have yet to show any evidence. Well, there may be no direct evidence here that I was present, but there is certainly evidence that I saw people practicing kyudou (thus the pictures). It is an amazing sport, as much spiritual as physical. There is certainly a great deal of technique to be learned, but there is also a mindset, and that is perhaps the reason this has been called a zen sport in the past. 

          The image above is of a pose in the "classical kyudou" style. I did not know there were two styles (I simply thought some of the more advanced students were, well, more advanced) until I was told when I asked to take pictures. If I was worried that my picture taking desires would be frowned upon, I could not have been more wrong. The moment I asked, they set up a demonstration, and sensei (teacher) sat next to me to say when I should snap photos (this is such and such pose, she would say). I have a hard time remembering what the pose are called even when I am doing them myself. 

I have a working theory that it is impossible to look uncool while shooting an arrow (unless, of course, you happen to fail in quite so epic a fashion as I did on my first shot - more on this later); I believe this image proves it. Notice he has shrugged out of the left sleeve of his kimono. That is the typical male fashion, I believe, while women who wear kimono while shooting tie their sleeves back instead. The male hakama is also different, and is tied in front. 

          These are, of course, the moto (targets) that one is supposed to hit. They are 150 m from the stage, if I remember correctly,and 15 m apart - it is very possible that I remember incorrectly. I will follow with some sentimental rambling about the nature of the kyudou club and what it has meant to me through my stay in Japan, so read on if you so desire, but consider yourself warned. 

           Perhaps most importantly, kyudou club has been one of the few places in Japan where I feel like I really belong - aside from the classroom and my host family, of course. It is easy to feel like a gaijin (foreigner) in Japan. In my case I have concluded that this is in part because I clearly look different, but in greater part because I understood only around half of what is said to me and closer to a tenth of the cultural concepts underlying Japanese life. In my kyudou club, though, before I am a foreigner, I am a student. If the rigorous traditions of the sport seem alien to me, they are strange to the Japanese students as well. Moreover, the more I see of those rigorous traditions the more I realize I am seeing an older framework on which the entire society appears to be based. One of the most interesting aspects of Japan is that there is a cultural framework old enough for that to be the case. I will also say that having the uniform means expressing a certain level of commitment, and by extension, truly entering the club. My education became the responsibility of all of that club's members at the moment I dawned my hakama, and so I was taught to bow properly, give greetings, excuse myself, and so forth. Interestingly, the deeper I delve into kyudou, the more life outside of the sport makes sense.

The structure of the club itself also uniquely gives it a special place in my life. It consists in large part of people older than me, middle aged or slightly older, with a few younger individuals who largely come in the evenings, and the sensei (teacher). Perhaps for this reason and since I inevitably know no one’s name, I am mostly called ojō-san, meaning young lady. Foreigners looking in on Japanese society tend to use the word “family” to describe the various social organizations, and I would apply the same word here without hesitation. We are in many ways a family. When I first wore my kyudou uniform, most people came to congratulate me on the fact that it suited me well. Afterwards, they would occasionally fix me if I came in with my collar mussed or some tie misplaced, and took great glee in telling me to bicycle home without changing because “all the young women in the club do it that way.” They still do. 

Moreover, their attitudes towards my quirks and successes are those of a family. The women titter when I put on my knee boots beneath my hakama, and everyone together finds their daily amusement in watching me drag five-minute conversations into thirty-minute ones due to a variety of comical misunderstandings. Everyone watched when I fired my first arrow at the outdoor targets, and everyone managed to somehow hold their laughter until I finished the entire ceremony after my arrow rebounded off of the roof nearly the entire 150 m back to the stage (I did say I would explain later, did I not?). Another day, sensei waited until practice was over to have me fire the final arrows before clean-up so that everyone could see how I had improved (or so I would surmise). I had no mishaps with the arrow this time, but firmly corrected myself when I began to leave the stage leading with my left rather than my right foot, much to the amusement of all of my observers. Finding that I had a tendency to stuff my clothes into a paper bag at the end of the day, sensei found me a suitable cloth to bundle them into. Indeed, whenever I lack something, someone tends to show up with it in hand, and even now I worry that she will next show up with a pair of traditional sandals (I insist on wearing flip-flops). 

Our typical kyudou practice is as follows - at the beginning and end of practice, we thank the sensei formally for her teachings, and greet each other. The less experienced students than watched the more experienced ones complete two ceremonial shots, at which point practice begins in earnest. This means exchanging gossip, and for many of the more experienced students, correcting my posture, the way I wear my clothing and associated kyudou accessories, etc. More than once, people have taken me aside to carefully explain what I am inevitably doing wrong. They have done this slowly, however, day by day, one mistake at a time, so that it has never been overwhelming. Everyone cleans up together at the end of the day. I frequently stayed late to practice afterward when I can, since the stage clears and the club quiets down as darkness falls. At that point, I can relax before heading home for the night, and the sound of snapping arrow strings and nighttime insects will forever color my thoughts of the long winter evenings in Japan. You can see the stage at night in this image. 

I would like to conclude with some advice, perhaps, to anyone else who thinks they might be interested in kyudou. There were a number of other American students present at the same time as me, and I have no doubt that they had equally wonderful and trying experiences within the club. I do not, however, believe that they had as much of a chance to become a part of it. They were too frequently together in a small group, too frequently speaking English, and too frequently too busy with classes to attend lessons. My advice is to throw yourself in head first. I, being the oddball that I am, wore my uniform to school, and even added a kimono beneath it just for fun. I was embarrassed and nervous at first, but I was also proud. Learning Kyudou has never just about learning to hit a target with a bow and arrow; rather, it has been about the form, the mindset, and the people whom I stood beside as I released my arrows. But really, you should also challenge the target, as you see in this image of the beginning of the classical style ceremony. 

Mushi wo tabete shimatta (to Uwajima)

Hisashiburi, as the Japanese say. It basically means, "gosh, it's been a while since we last saw each other." Anyway, I have decided today to discuss the long awaited topic of my short stay in Okeyama, along with a few choice bits from more recently. For example, today I ate a pickled silk worm from Korea while wearing my kimono Meiji style in a Japanese history classroom. I'm sure the locals get a surprise from me every other morning when I ride through on my bicycle in any number of things that look like cosplay on me, and I get a kick out of wearing this stuff. I'm getting better at putting my clothes on, too, which usually involves tying an awful lot of knots.

Anyway, During my stay in Okeyama, I traveled around to Hiroshima and Uwajima as well. The image above is of the Uwajima mountains as I came in by ferry. Above to the right is the entrance to the temple itself, which had flooded the day before - good thing I came when it was no longer closed. 

There was quite an impressive pagoda here, so I had to capture a classic shot. The image to the left is perhaps more meaningful, since it makes the pagoda appear just a bit more majestic. There were somewhere around fifty steps leading up to the temple near this particular pagoda, and I and my two temporary host brothers (5 and 7, I believe) ran up those steps without the slightest problem. Everyone else followed a bit later...

Back to Uwajima. So, this is the image of the famous tori, or gate, of the temple. It is several yards out at sea rather than actually opening directly onto the temple as would be normal. I don't understand the reason, and I don't think my host family understood either. I asked. 

 There also happened to be a wedding the day of my visit. Notice the beautiful bride in her white kimono, and the groom in his black kimono at her side. Apparently, her kimono is a modern, simpler version of the fancier old-style wedding kimono (the major difference is the hood, which here is relatively small and rounded), but I thought it looked fancy enough.

 The temple itself, as may have seemed likely by the extraordinary flooding I mentioned, is built directly over the water. In fact, from almost anywhere on the various walkways you can see numerous tiny crabs making their way across the rocks. They are well hidden by their coloration, however.

And a random show monkey. He knew a lot of tricks...Why was he there? Because there were tourists willing to pay to have their picture taken with him, that's why.

The deer here, as in all of Japan, are insane. They are about the size of a large dog, and most of the time will act like a large dog. They are constantly in search of food, and this one followed us for quite a distance before finally giving up. She tried to eat my maps first, until I wrestled them (wet and wrinkled) away from her. The children love the deer (all the posted signs say not to pet them, but who reads) and will walk along with their hands on the deer's backs. The deer don't seem to care. They're up for anything for a free meal. I definitely took my one chance and stroked this one's back myself...

Nara is famous for its deer more so than Uwajima, but since I haven't yet gone, I'll settle for these little guys.

Random dinosaur picture. This was at the kabuto museum I mentioned earlier, not in Uwajima. I feel random, so I placed it here to get it out of my head. I think it's cool, and so does my current host brother (he asked if it was real, and I told him no, more because I thought he should be afraid if he ever saw a real one than because I wanted to crush his young dreams). 

And this is the upalupa that lived as a pet in my temporary host family's house. He was so cute, and I loved playing with him (poo-chan). My Japanese professors all thought it was amazing that such a large upalupa existed when I described him in class. Maybe he grew so much because the 5-year old boy loves feeding him...

Gotta love these cute little guys.

And my friend in front of the mighty tori. Awesome shot. It totally says Japan. I wonder what sort of dance that kid in the background is doing.

Jaa ne (see you again soon).