travel

The Creation: Hakone

Praise for the rain that waters our fields, and blesses our crops so all the earth yields; from death unto life her mystery revealed springs forth in joy! – The Heavens are Telling the Glory of God

When you arrive in Hakone from Taipei or Paris or Ocala or Berlin or Palo Alto or whichever city you’re from, you’ll look around and marvel at the lush landscape. You’ll walk to the tourist information booth right outside the train station and get as many pamphlets as you can to find out what you should do and see in Hakone. You’ll thank the very kind Japanese woman for her vibrant “Hello” and answer her polite, “May I ask you where you’re from?” You’ll walk to your small ryokan or large hotel in the rain that falls through the sunshine, and you won’t mind, because you’ll know in your heart that things just don’t get as green as they do in Hakone without a little bit of rain everyday. You’ll smile and wave at the old people who smile and wave at you. You’ll carry a smile on your face, all day, attributable to the old man who leaned out of his top window to catch your attention. You’ll wonder how people live to what seems like a 109 in Hakone. (After your dinner of steamed foods and no trans fats you’ll wonder no more but wonder how you can live here too). You’ll calculate how much money you’d need to live the life you’ve imagined (It may round up to $170 a day).

Praise for the wind that blows through the trees, the seas’ mighty storms, the gentlest breeze; they blow where they will, they blow where they please to please the Lord!

You’ll buy a Hakone Free Pass so that you can ride the bus, the cable car, and even the ropeway, though you’re afraid of heights. As you wind through the mountains, you’ll recall other countries that you may have visited: maybe Jamaica, maybe Brazil, maybe South Africa. You’ll think “I’ve seen such wonders, such beauty, but wow, I’ve never seen this.” You’ll be thankful to take each breath. You’ll see trees that are as tall as small skyscrapers and then it’ll strike you, as nature always does– “I’m but a speck in this universe.” You’ll think what can I ever create that could make me feel the way this view does? You’ll realize that the answer’s “Nothing,” and you’ll be fine with that. You’ll smile inside. You’ll see craters in mountains from volcanic eruptions that happened thousands of years before Christ; you’ll feel like you’re in Babel walking up a mountain where a multitude of languages are swirling in and out of your ears; you’ll take a sightseeing cruise that’s too short, and you wish to go around again, but you must sail off into the air in an aerial tram; too far above sea level, you may wonder if wires ever snap on these things, but you’ll look at your fellow passengers who’re quite calm and thus you’ll calm down; you’ll eat two eggs that have black shells because they’ve been boiled in hot sulfur springs. You’ll believe the idea that you’ve added fourteen years to your life, and start planning what to do in those extra years. You’ll decide that you may have to move to Hakone, because that’s the only place in the world where people will be as old as you’ll be.

Praise for the sun, the bringer of day, he carries the light of the Lord in his rays; the moon and the stars who light up the way unto your throne!

It will stop raining. You’ll be as content with the sun as you were with the rain. You’ll decide to go to your ryokan after a few hours of sightseeing, so that you can be pampered as you deserve. You’ll be hungry and want sustenance, but when twelve small dishes are brought to you in succession, you’ll wonder if you could possibly eat all that food. You’ll surprise yourself because of course you can. You’ll finish with many “Arigato Gozaimasus,” and go to your room where you’ll find that they’ve laid out a new yukata for you, given you a new yellow towel, a new washcloth, and a new toothbrush and small tube of toothpaste. You’ll look at your towel and think, “Well, it’s only 8p.m., I should go downstairs to the hot spring bath that’s open until midnight.” You’ll soak in the onsen (hot springs) for about thirty minutes, and though the pool is shallow, you’ll pretend to swim. You’ll feel like a child and an adult all at once.

Praise for the fire who gives us his light, the warmth of the sun to brighten our night; he dances with joy, his spirit so bright, he sings of you!

You’ll be thankful for every breath in your body. You’ll be thankful for the opportunities you’ve been given. You’ll think of your loved ones who’ve passed on and away and never could’ve dreamed of this. You’ll vow to share how very wonderful Hakone is, how wonderful “creation” is. You’ll be peaceful. Amen.

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travel

Getting Away Part 1: Then and Now

Hop on the bus, Gus; you don’t need to discuss much; just drop off the key, Lee, and get yourself free. – Paul Simon (50 Ways to Leave Your Lover)

Then: In April 2004, I was teaching English at a language school in Caçapava, Brazil. The owner of the language school was a hard-as-nails woman who didn’t believe in days off, and certainly not two in a row. Thankfully, Brazil has its fair share of national holidays, and so, on one particular holiday, I called a pousada in Ubatuba and made a reservation for four days. The pousada was located across the street from a beach. If I walked along the boardwalk for fifteen minutes, I could gain access to another stretch of hot sand and glittering, turquoise water. On and on it went, beach after beach, each blue and white and green all over. (Ubatuba, three hours by bus from Caçapava, boasts one hundred white sand  beaches).  My pousada was surrounded by cafes, sunbathers in skimpy swimwear, bars, and small shops selling food, souvenirs, and cards. Sadly, in 2004, I was camera-less and blog-less and couldn’t preserve my days in an astonishing city anywhere but in my memory (a leaky thing).

Just slip out the back, Jack; make a new plan, Stan; you don’t need to be coy, Roy; just get yourself free. – Paul Simon

Now: I’m teaching at a language school in Tokyo, Japan. The owner of the language school, I’ve never met, but the manager of the school is a relaxed, cheerful man who could care less about how one’s time outside of the school is spent. He’s never asked me to come in early, teach late, or do anything that’s not stipulated in my contract. He’s never invited me to have dinner at his house with his kids and dogs, never forced me to make up excuses about why I couldn’t go to dinner with his kids and dogs. My contract, as I’ve shared with you before, is non-demanding and strictly professional. The only person slave-driving myself in 2012 is me… Early this week, I woke up, and asked myself, “Why?”

Just get yourself free. – Paul Simon

Then (A few days ago kind of “then”): I stayed up all night looking at the area of Hakone for a two-day respite. I chose Hakone, because it’s less than two hours from Tokyo and its hot springs are reputedly some of the best in the world. I decided to get myself free, to book two days in a sleepy town, rest, and allow the steaming water to wash away some of my general fatigue. It worked.

To travel to Hakone from Tokyo, one only needs to get on the Romance Car at Shinjuku station, and take the limited express train to Hakone-Yumoto. (There are only four stops). The ticket is 2020 yen, and if you so choose, you can also buy a Hakone Freepass, which will give you access to all of Hakone’s transportation (train, cable car, ropeway, and bus). No worries, my friends, I now have a phone with an adequate camera, and I took ample photos to remember it all, and to urge you, wherever you are, take some time and “get yourself free.”

To describe Hakone as “picturesque” would be doing it a disservice, as would the words “beautiful” and “lovely.” It’s surrounded by mountains, and is green green green. Breathtaking… nope, still not good enough.

* My room at the ryokan Shunkoso. The room was the size of a studio apartment, and left me with such a desire for my own place.

* The best part of the room was the view outside my window.

It seems there were five people booked in the ryokan: an old couple, a younger couple and me. What that means is that the service in the dining room was ridiculously good, and I had the hot springs to myself for both days. Unshared. I could, and should write a post of its own on all the food that was served to me at breakfast and dinner, a large amount. My lovely waiter just kept coming with dish after dish, but the great thing about Japan is that each thing is two pieces at the most. I swear if you wanted to lose weight, as contradictory as it sounds, Shunkoso would be perfect. They fill you up on steamed fish, fish eggs in mayonnaise, tofu in sweet sauce, grilled eel, steamed vegetables, soups (There were two different soups at dinner– miso, and fish broth with a piece of crabmeat), and for dessert– a slice of melon, and the next day, a chilled rice custard.

* My Jamaicans, this dish tasted exactly like escoveitch.

* Hands down best service ever received.

The trip to Hakone wasn’t meant to be a food orgy though; it’s about the water. Though cameras aren’t allowed in the baths, since I was the only person in there I figured no one would complain.

*On the left are the showers. You must shower before you enter the hot spring bath. The ryokan provides yukatas (robes and a belt), towels, washcloths, soap, shampoo, razors, and whatever else one may need (hairdryers, Q-tips).

* After eating my first dinner.

Dear friends, this is a post in two parts, because it’s impossible to do it all in one post. I still want to share my sightseeing photos with you, and tell you what I thought about on my walk to town from the ryokan, and how friendly the country people were and how people stopped me to say “Konnichiwa,” and how one old lady pointed to my face and said “Nice, nice.” (Brown skin’s more than rare in Hakone). It was such a pleasure to revel in green… and to think, I always thought I was a beach person, a blue person.

The problem is all inside your head she said to me; the answer is easy if you take it logically; I’d like to help you in your struggle to be free.

Take care,

Val

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life, travel

“The World’s Alright With Me”

Simplicity is beauty. Choose a day as your day of simplicity. Speak little, and listen with attention. Eat simple and natural food. Create time periods for not doing anything – just walk, look around, live the moment. – Brahma Kumaris

Dear Friends,

Yesterday was payday. Any payday’s a good day, but yesterday my check was too big. Complaining about too much money may seem like a weird complaint, or one that should get a back slap, but my sizeable check forced me to take a look at my routine in Tokyo. Last month I worked more than sixty extra units. Sixty-three to be exact.

My contract requires me to work twenty-six and a half hours a week, and I enjoyed that open schedule for the first few months that I was here. However, I felt working three hours on some days and six on others left me with too much free time and not enough cash to be as consumeristic as Tokyo requires. I work across the street from the Nihonbashi Takashimaya (a major department store), one block from Coredo (a mini-mall), and two blocks from the Yaesu underground shopping plaza. It was a win- no gain situation; so, a few months ago I decided to open up my schedule and work bonus shifts at 7:45am, and any other available shifts. You’d be surprised at how many businessmen want to get their English in before heading to work.

Of course, my intention for working slavishly were dual: to save for a rainy day, and to finance my newfound expenses like lash extensions and bi-weekly hair straightening at Hayato. Thus, I’ve been working six days a week from early morning ’til night with large breaks in-between. When I have a break, I bike home and take a nap. Rarely do I make plans for the afternoon, ’cause just like a toddler, an old biddy, or a European, I know the afternoon’s nap time.

Yesterday was payday. The night before payday, I wrote a “Things to Do” list, and I wondered how my attempts at simplification were falling so woefully short; for example after paying rent I listed: 1) Buy Skin Food scrub 2) Get Clinique oil cleanser 3) New lipstick (fuchsia)? 4) Lashes at Sourcil 5) Buy skirt in other color at Coredo 6) Dress at Zara (and Nolley’s?) 7) Try finding shoes at Mitsukoshi or order online. I paid the rent, and decided to buy none of those things (except the cleanser). Sometimes, shopping’s like a feel good drug. For a very short time it satisfies, and then you’re right back where you started– wanting. We are living in a material world, and I am a material girl.

As much as I love Madonna’s hit from the eighties, I’ve never considered myself a material girl. Designer labels are unimportant to me, having a lot of money was never a top priority, and I always felt I could do more with less. (Let the other Val speak for a minute here): I’m not materialistic, but I like “nice” things, comfort, the best of what I need whether it be skincare, haircare, or individual lashes added to mine. Yet, yesterday was a wake-up call; if my check could be a third more than usual, it meant that I wasn’t doing anything except working. Unacceptable. I live in a beautiful country that I haven’t seen; eight months later, I still haven’t been outside of Tokyo– not even to the zoo. (And, you all know I love a good zoo).

So, in the spirit of reclaiming spirit, calm, and true beauty (nature baby!), last night I decided to actually take my given two days off (not work on Thursday), and go to Hakone. Hakone, a ninety minute trip from Tokyo, is famous for its sulfuric hot springs, open air museum, and black eggs that when eaten can add seven years to your life. (I’m gonna eat two– it may also explain why every psychic I’ve ever visited told me I’d have a long life). See more here: http://www.hakonenavi.jp/english/introduction/index.html. I’ve booked a room in a traditional Japanese ryokan (guesthouse/hotel), where there’s no internet and included in the rate is dinner served in my room. The best part, my room has a private hot spring bath on the patio. (There’s still the option to do a group bath– same gender only). So friends, in two days, I’m looking forward to a peaceful retreat filled with insights, followed by a clear mind, followed by platters and platters of fresh sashimi and sushi, and a soak in hot springs. That’s the thing about money, it shouldn’t be maligned, it makes things possible. Ok, I’m off to nap.

See you soon (from Hakone!),

Val

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