Romancing the Ring of Fire

BGM: "I'll Try" (Acoustic Version) by Proff (feat. Gliss)

Japan is well-known the world over for being a land of complete randomness. Like English words thrown together on a Japanese tee-shirt that collectively make no sense whatsoever, the brain is tested for sanity on a daily basis. As a result, the longer I live in this country, the more I find myself freakishly longing, in quite a masochistic sense, for places and experiences that continue to challenge my mental faculty. When I heard that I was near the "strange and mysterious" island of Okunoshima, known in war buff circles for its grim history, I just had to check it out.

Pulling out of Tadanoumi Port (Takehara City), bound for Okunoshima Island

The City of Takehara promotes Okunoshima as a pleasant vacation spot where you can frolic with Mother Nature and play in the sun. For this purpose, Okunoshima does not disappoint. There's a small hot springs resort here complete with hotel, tennis courts, a nature discovery center, golden sandy beaches and a camping facility. Naturally, this is what most of the locals head for when they get off the 15-minute ferry from Tadanoumi Port.

Okunoshima Kyukamura Resort Hotel

And I'm supposed to just accept it as that- without asking the most obvious, impossible-to-ignore question racking the brain:

Dude! What's with all the rabbits? And why is Okunoshima also called "Usaginoshima?" (Rabbit Island)

These little guys are EVERYWHERE!

Depending on who you ask in Takehara, there are apparently two answers to this question. The tourist agents and children will tell you that several decades ago, a few elementary school kids, who just happened to be carrying rabbits on the ferry with them, went to Okunoshima on a school trip and released (or abandoned) them there. Over the years, the rabbits "were fruitful and multiplied," having no natural predators to keep their numbers in check.

But ask a taxi driver or a teacher in the Tadanoumi area and you'll get a completely different (and more logical) answer:

Back during WWII, the Imperial Army ordered the island of Okunoshima to be the base for Japan's primary poison gas factory. The island was so secret, that it was erased from all official maps. The thousands of workers employed there were forbidden to tell even their families about their occupation. According to local testimony, during the war, whenever the train approached Tadanoumi Station, the blinds had to be pulled down so that passengers couldn't see Okunoshima Island from the train windows. (After all, if you can't see it, it's not there, right? Just like nuclear radiation). Sadly, much of the manufactured poison gas was used and disposed of in China, but thousands of the Japanese workers at the factory also got horribly ill with lung infections, chronic asthma, painful pus-filled blisters and rashes from making the chemical weapons. Their thin, poorly-fitting rubber suits and masks proved inadequate for the job.

Remnants of a poison gas storage unit. The walls were charred black by flame-throwers used by Allied Forces to neutralize the poison gas during the decontamination process.

Since war prisoners were in short supply (and it wasn't appropriate to use Japanese citizens for testing), rabbits were allegedly used in experiments to test the effects of the poison gas. But when Allied Forces seized Okunoshima in 1945, the rabbits either escaped or were set free, "were fruitful and multiplied." Now there are hundreds if not thousands of them, and legions more fluffy bunnies being born on Okunoshima every day.

And they are pretty dang cute! I'd say they're way too cute for even an adult to abandon on some deserted island smack in the middle of the Seto Inland Sea, let alone an elementary school kid.

With this sad wartime story hanging over my head like a cloud of, um, poison gas, I gave up trying to have a mentally soothing, pristine happy time here in Okushima and just took the trip for what it was: part memorial, part beach zen, part hiking trip.

If you can resist the urge to board the free shuttle bus that goes from the dock to the resort, turn right instead after you step off the ferry and you'll be rewarded with a peaceful hike with impressive views of neighboring islands glinting in crystalline azure seawater. The island is covered with lush vegetation: pine and camellia trees, bamboo grass, azalea bushes, even cherry trees that splash Okunoshima with cheerful colors come springtime. Bulbuls and thrushes trill and chirp in the green, filling the air with bright song.

The paved trail hugs the coast in places and winds through dense forests in others, opening up on occasion to reveal Meiji-era brick military strongholds, cannon magazines and the infamous poison gas storage units. Okunoshima was originally a fortress set up to protect Japan before the start of the Russio-Japanese War (1902~).

Seeing all the cute, healthy (and well-fed) bunnies hopping around the desolate ruins of war, your mind constantly shifts from relaxed and serene to heavy and remorseful and back again. I found it all to be a beautifully sobering experience.

For 700 yen, you can rent a bicycle to cruise the nicely-paved trails around the island's circumference. But I found I didn't need one. With just my two feet, I completed the circle in just under 2 hours. Instead, I put that money to better use feeding myself and the cute little bunnies. An ice-cold Campbell grape soft cream for me and 100 yen worth of food pellets for the rabbits. They went over well.

Campbell Grape Soft Cream! Mmmmm! (a specialty of Takehara City)

For 200 yen, you can learn more about Okunoshima's wartime past at the Poison Gas Museum. It might be only a room-and-a-half's worth collection of books, artifacts, testimonials and poison gas paraphernalia, but the impact is pretty severe. Photography is forbidden inside the museum, otherwise I'd post the disturbing pictures of the "protective" gear, blister-covered victims and imperial memorabilia. Part of me is very glad that I get to spare you the misery. But the single-minded mission of the museum is crystal clear: to educate Japan and the world of the horrors and inhumanity surrounding war and chemical weapon use- a lesson we still need to hear even today.

Okunoshima Poison Gas Museum

Access to Okunoshima: Take the Kure Line train from Mihara or Takehara to Tadanoumi Station. Exit the station and there should be a convenience store on your left. Turn right instead and walk about 8 minutes down the highway to the bridge. Turn right again and follow the road over the railroad tracks to Tadanoumi Port. Ferries depart for Okunoshima every 30 minutes. 300 yen o/w for adults, 150 yen o/w for children.

BGM: 花咲く旅路 (Hanasaku Tabiji) by Yuko Hara

I had a really tough time narrowing this list down to just thirty, since everywhere I go in Japan seems to make my jaw drop in one way or another. But these particular places carved their permanent marks into my soul, like notches on a pilgrim's walking stick. I guess they wanted me to tell you about them. They're listed in order from north to south, the way you'd see them on a map (or as they say around here, "from east to west"). If this blog inspires some of you to come see Japan with your own eyes, then I've done my job properly. (Don't let me down, Folks).

So without further ado:

1. Otaru, Hokkaido　（北海道小樽市）

Hand-blown antique glass float

2. Sapporo, Hokkaido （北海道札幌市）

City lights of Susukino district

3. Noboribetsu Hot Springs, Hokkaido (北海道登別温泉）

Steaming hot Oyunumagawa River flowing from volcanic Oyunuma Crater Lake

4. Matsushima, Miyagi (宮城県松島市）

Islets of Matsushima Bay

5. Ginzan Hot Springs, Yamagata （山形県銀山温泉）

This old hot springs village was used as a backdrop for part of NHK's mega TV hit "Oshin!"

6. Kusatsu Hot Springs, Gunma　（群馬県草津温泉）

Flowing with the rhythm of the "Yumomi Dance"

7. Mt. Nasu Volcano, Nasu Kogen, Tochigi （栃木県那須岳）

Nothing like hiking up a still-smoking active volcano!

8.　Yamatsuri, Fukushima （福島県矢祭町）

Crossing the Ayunotsuri Bridge over the Kuji River

9. Daigo, Ibaraki （茨城県大子町）

Fukuroda Falls in the heat of summer

10. Toride, Ibaraki （茨城県取手市）

Kokai River Sunset

11. Asakusa, Tokyo （東京浅草）

Asakusa Kannon Temple

12. Shinjuku, Tokyo （東京新宿）

Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building

13. Ueno, Tokyo （東京上野）

Scrumptious offerings for cheap along Ameya Yokocho shopping street

14. Chukagai (Chinatown), Yokohama, Kanagawa （神奈川県横浜市中華街）

Festive lanterns near the main shrine

15. Kamakura, Kanagawa (神奈川県鎌倉市）

Kamakura Daibutsu (Big Buddha)

16. Enoshima, Kanagawa （神奈川県江ノ島）

The Iwaya Caves

17. Echizen Kaigan Coast, Fukui （福井県越前海岸）

A pit-stop on the way to Tojinbo Pillar

18. Obama, Fukui （福井県小浜市）

Closeup of some sand on the main beachfront

19. Nagahama, Shiga （滋賀県長浜市）

Lake Biwa from Kogan Doro Road, Takatsuki Village, Nagahama

20. Hikone, Shiga （滋賀県彦根市）

The outer moat of Hikone Castle, drenched in blooming sakura cherry trees

21. Shigaraki Town, Koka City, Shiga （滋賀県甲賀市信楽町）

Shigaraki no Sato, part of the Shumei Natural Agriculture complex

22. Higashiyama, Kyoto (京都府京都市東山）

Yasaka Pagoda as seen from the base of Ninenzaka Slope

23. Arashiyama, Kyoto （京都府京都市嵐山）

Chikurin bamboo forest near Tenryuji temple

24. Kobe Port, Hyogo （兵庫県神戸湾）

We wanted to ride it but didn't know where it went.

25. Osaka City （大阪市）

Even the food down this street was delicious!

26. Naruto, Tokushima （徳島県鳴門市）

The catwalks under this bridge will give you a view of the Naruto whirlpools -if your timing's good!

27. Iya Village, Tokushima （徳島県祖谷町）

The Yoshino River rushing through Iya Valley, with the Katsurabashi vine bridge in the distance

28. Dogo Hot Springs, Matsuyama City, Ehime　（愛媛県松山市道後温泉）

Duelling mikoshi floats for the Dogo Hot Springs festival

29. Beppu City, Oita （大分県別府市）

The skin-soothing mud of Beppu

30. Kita Kyushu, Fukuoka （福岡県北九州市）

Nogita Beach in winter

BGM: Panini Pua Kea by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

Sometimes, you come across one of those places that just captures your heart and won't let go. Self-help books always suggest that we each have a "happy place." I can't help but smile whenever I remember beautiful Daigo, Ibaraki.

The terrain of Daigo and neighboring Hitachi Omiya is lumpy with irregular emerald-green mountains and lush vegetation -much like the set of the old TV series "Land of the Lost." I kept expecting to see a dinosaur come bumbling out of the trees!

Daigo is known for its waterfalls, hot springs and sweet fish. We of course love it for these, too, but fell hard in love with its inexpensive yet beautiful camping facilities.

We came here one night out of desperation, looking for a cheap place to stay but we didn't want to pay for a hotel. We ended up sleeping on thin cushions in one of the bungalows here at Camp Village Yanase (キャンプ村やなせ, Kyampu Mura Yanase). It cost about the same per person as a square teishoku set meal at a typical restaurant, it was that affordable!

Camp Village Yanase has all the major facilities: Western and Japanese-style toilets, rental showers, water pumps, covered barbecue and sink areas for big groups, vending machines, rental barbecue equipment and much more. We didn't lack for anything -except maybe bug spray.

We were free to drive up and make camp anywhere on the premises. Many people chose to stay up on the hill away from the river, closer to the facilities. My husband expressed that he wanted to sleep "under the stars," so I pitched my tiny flaming-red two-man tent in the open air next to Puppy, the Wonder Subaru.

Camping in Japan is a little different from camping in, say, Alaska. People tend to pitch their tents closer to other campers in this part of the world. This would annoy the heck out of a typical privacy-loving Alaskan, yet here in Asia, there's a "safety in numbers" mentality that permeates nearly every aspect of society. Where I'm from, the further away from people, the better. I tried sharing my point of view with my husband. He thought my people were nuts! He said he felt safer knowing that other campers were nearby. This time I decided to experience camping from his perspective. (He said he'd try it my way in the future. Sounded cool).

We were a tad embarrassed by fact that my pipsqueak tent was nearly as big (or as small) as our car. We shrugged off giggles from our more affluent, boisterous neighbors, flashing them that "yeah, we know, we know" smile. At least we could laugh about it!

My husband "borrowed" what looked like a broken wooden school chair from the side of a tool shed and used it as a stand for his mini gas stove. We had a little styrofoam cooler full of meat and veggies that we bought at the local supermarket: chicken, steak, corn on the cob, sweet potato, fresh tomatoes, white onion and a loaf of white bread. That was it. When he realized we didn't pack a fire-starter kit, he walked over towards our closest neighbors with their elaborate tent setup and asked to borrow a lighter, cracking jokes about our humble but happy condition. They were kind enough to oblige. Once our BBQ was ready, we returned the favor and gave them a big bottle of green tea.

Anything, no matter how simple, tastes awesome BBQ'd!

After a meager but extremely satisfying lunch of meat and fresh tomatoes, we spent the next few hours cooling our feet in the clean, musical waters of the lovely Kuji River, searching for colorful rocks that would make interesting jewelry. The smooth, polished river stones came in nearly every color of the rainbow! It was too hard to make a decision!

Resident frog in fashionable camo gear

We trudged up from the river loaded down with our booty, pockets bulging like the stuffed cheeks of a greedy hamster. Just then, our neighbor (Mrs. Yoshida from Utsunomiya in neighboring Tochigi Prefecture) intercepted us, thanking us once again for the tea and inviting us to join them for dinner. Before we had a chance to do the customary hesitation, she emphatically told us with the warmest smile we'd ever seen that her whole family would really love our company.

I offered to help cook or stir something, but Mrs. Yoshida said it was all under control and told us to make ourselves comfortable under their tarp. It was tough not to be envious of their massive provisions: 4 tents, tables and chairs, 2 barbecues, a whole food tent, lighting, spices and sauces for cooking -it looked like enough for a small army! Mr. Yoshida, a young company worker, said this was their favorite spot because the kids liked it best. The family came here twice a year, all the way from Tochigi (on the other side of the mountain range). Mr. Yoshida kindly suggested that next time we try to get a spot under the trees for shade and protection from the rain, since it rains often in the mountains of northern Ibaraki. We were grateful for the advice.

Their two young daughters, shy and studious Chiaki (in junior high) and spunky Himari-chan (in elementary school, with the gorgeous straight long hair), told me they sometimes like to practice speaking English together just for fun. This tickled me absolutely pink and right away, I switched languages to see how much they knew. Chiaki's pronunciation was clean with only a slight hint of accent on her R's. Their mother explained to me that they hoped to go to America someday. I couldn't help but smile and tell them that dreams were made to go after. Himari-chan switched seats to sit beside me and enthusiastically introduced to me all the pink cartoon characters on her favorite homework folder. What a cutie!

We feasted on a delightful (and elaborate!) banquet of barbecued pork, two kinds of beef (salted and marinated), daikon radish salad, boiled potatoes, barbecued squid, hot and mouth-watering tonjiru (pork and vegetable) soup, grilled chicken and hot, fluffy rice cooked up fresh in a traditional kama rice pot. They offered us beer, too but since we don't drink, we enjoyed some cooling, refreshing barley tea. We didn't need the beer! We were already drunk on campers' bliss!

Mr. Yoshida asked us why we weren't planning on seeing the city's fireworks festival that night (August 9th). We explained that we were just enjoying the natural beauty and quiet too much to wanna head into town. He seemed pleased with our answer and told us that was why they decided not to go out there this time, too. Around 8:00pm, however, we could see the clouds on the other side of the mountains pulsing with eerie reds and golds as the fireworks set them alight from afar. As we watched the colorful smoke rising up into the sky, Himari-chan, jumping and pulling at her father's tee-shirt, hounded him with the words "hanabi! hanabi!" (fireworks) and with that, he hauled out a brightly-colored plastic family-pack of sparklers and a pail full of water. We were going to have our own fireworks festival!

It's always a blast watching grownups turn into children.

We entertained ourselves for a good hour this way, shrieking with the kids as our sparklers cracked and hissed, shooting off gorgeous sparks of colorful fire. By the time the last sparkler fizzled out, so had Himari-chan's energy. Within minutes, she was curled up like a baby in her big sister's arms, slightly snoring. We understood that it was time to bring our magical evening to a close and with warm good-nights and sleep-wells, we slowly returned to our tent, bare feet gratefully soaking up the cool evening dew with every step.

There weren't any stars for my husband that night, but he looked too happy to miss them as I unzipped the door flap to the tent and stepped carefully onto the crinkly vinyl floor. I spread out sleeping bags to use as cushions and we both plopped down exhausted upon them. It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep to the ethereal whistles and chirps of katydids and mole crickets. I turned to look at my husband -already out like a light. The fresh mountain air worked nicely on him!

I awoke with the dawn and the pitter-patter of gentle rain splattering on the top flap. Watching continuously through fuzzy eyes, I kept touching the back wall to make sure that the 20 coatings of Scotch Guard I'd sprayed on were enough. Fortunately, no rain came through. (To quote Han Solo, my little tent "may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts"). The bright, playful melodies of sparrows, woodland tits and wagtails serenaded me as I sat there in the neon red glow of my tent, drinking in the peace. A swig of green tea and I set to work weaving a small happy-first-camping-trip present for my husband, grooving along to the drowsy, easy crooning of Bruddah Iz on my mp3 player. No doubt, I was in my element!

Once the rain had stopped, the music of children's laughter punctuating the shrills of cicadas filled the air. I unzipped the tent screen to peek out and see what morning had brought. Some kids were catching tree frogs in the grass near the bungalows.

Men are masters of the barbecue no matter which country you're in. My man is no exception. Breakfast rocked!

Now we're cooking!

We were both on a legitimate camper's high. My husband, a metropolis child, had never experienced anything like this before and I could feel the soothing power of nature working on his soul as it did mine, sweeping out the stress and cold from years of urban life. It's so healing to sleep in a place surrounded only by living green -no concrete, no steel. The senses become sharper, too, as if you can actually smell and hear better after spending a night in the wild.

Himari-chan snuck over to our tent when she caught a whiff of the smoke from our grill and greeted us a cheerful good morning. She kept looking back and forth, from her mom sitting in a lawn chair to the contents of our barbecue -long hair comically flying in her face with each turn. My husband smiled and handed her a chopstick with half a grilled hot dog skewered on it. Good girl that she was, Himari immediately ran over to her mom to get her approval, then ran back to us with the biggest smile and gratefully pulled the hot dog from the chopstick, gobbling it up. She ate a piece of tomato, too and with that, presented us with a tiny gift: a heart-shaped stone hand-picked for us from the waters of the Kuji River. (I still carry this precious stone to this day).

Our new friends made sure to give us their contact info before we tore down our camp. Thanks to their help, I had come to realize the wisdom of my husband's camping ways. Having neighbors can be a joyous blessing! I felt my world getting that much friendlier as I relished the smiles of the beautiful Yoshida family one final time.

The hot, late summer sunshine had dried up the final rain drops from my trusty Old Red and allowed me to roll it up and stick it in the car -just before the UV rays got too painful for our skin. We bought a few cans of coffee from the vending machine near the campsite office and asked the ever-helpful groundskeeper for his idea of a good place to get cleaned up. He said an old friend of his ran the small hot springs lodge called Kajikaen (河鹿園）up the road near the Kamiogawa train station. It was really easy to find -just follow the tiny toy train!

Access to Yanase Campgrounds: Take Route 323 (also called 118 in parts) up from Mito, Ibaraki through Hitachi Omiya until you reach the intersection with Route 32. Turn left onto 32 and look for the sign near the small bridge that reads キャンプ村やなせ (kyampu mura yanase).

Ahhh! Life is good!

(All names have been changed for privacy reasons. The place names are very real, however). ;-)

BGM: Ii Hi Tabidachi by Yamaguchi Momoe

My friend from Tokyo thought it was time for me to get some culture, so we boarded the bullet train (東海道新幹線ひかり Tokaido Shinkansen Hikari) bound for Kyoto to do some temple hopping and time-slipping. This would be a journey of many firsts for me and I didn't want to miss a thing. My friend reassured me it was fine to leave my window blind up so I could snap away with my camera, while everyone else on the train snuggled into their seats for some beauty sleep. Sleeping while traveling? This really is different from home, I mused.

The bullet train glided smooth as silk with no sensation of track beneath us. I couldn't help but marvel at how fast we were traveling in a vehicle with no seat belts. We showed our tickets to the perfectly-coiffed attendant who clipped them with a hole punch and told us to have a lovely trip. We were also given shibori (wet hand towels) as a special service for Green Car passengers. (I felt special!) A cute lady in uniform sold me a bottle of orange juice with a darling smile. I wanted a box of Pretz sticks too but my friend mentioned we'd be eating at the station, so I refrained.

After about 30 minutes into the trip, somewhere around Shizuoka, my friend nudged my arm to let me know we were near Mt. Fuji. This was my first time seeing it from the ground. No doubt; towering above the world in a blanket of glimmering snow, she was truly a spectacle to behold.

This particular mountain (Mt. Ibuki, Shiga Prefecture) reminded me of home, though I'd never seen this place before.

We coasted for a while past immaculate tea farms, polluted industrial parks, snow-covered mountains and bare rice fields. We stopped for a moment at Nagoya, a monstrous expanse of lifeless grey concrete and steel. But I noticed that the people who boarded the train at Nagoya were as vibrant and colorful as their neon and leopard print clothing, laughing loud and free. It was a pleasant contrast from the silence of Tokyo commuters.

We spent the final fast and furious 20 minutes in darkness with popped ears as we shot like a cannon ball through a series of tunnels, exiting into a vast expanse of brown, quaint fields dotted with old, crumbling cottages. We'd arrived in Kyoto Prefecture! The bullet train doesn't dilly-dally at stops at all; most people wait in the aisles or in front of the door with their luggage to get off the train as quickly as is humanly possible so others can get on. The Hikari pulled up softly, gently to the Kyoto Station platform and with a hydraulic hiss that sounded exactly like the doors of the Starship Enterprise (I joke not!), we were released into the wild, again.

I was starving by the time we got to Kyoto Station, so we went for a quick bowl of tempura udon noodles in the underground shopping arcade. My friend complimented me on my use of chopsticks -my technique had improved since I came to Japan!

Tempura Udon Lunch Set with Kyoto Pickles

My feet had no idea what they'd be in for, but I was hyped and ready to go! I oohed over every little thing. But when we crossed the famous Sanjo-Ohashi Bridge over the Kamo River, I was ecstatic! We were in Kyoto! We were in Kyoto!

Since most temples in Kyoto close by 5pm, we had to hurry. We jumped into a taxi and were whisked out towards the mountains of Higashiyama ward to Ginkakuji (銀閣寺, Silver Pavilion). While my friend asked the driver for advice, I looked out the window and noticed the streets getting increasingly narrower as we drove up the mountain. The first thing that hit me about Ginkakuji was the blast of fresh, green mountain air from the ancient pine and cedar trees surrounding us. I can't accurately explain what antiquity smells like, but this was it -and it was intoxicating!

I know what you're thinking. "Where's the silver?" I kept asking my friend this question and got no answer.

Two Mt. Fuji's in one day! This was almost too much!

After hiking around the serene, relaxing temple grounds of crumbling stone paths and bamboo forests, we exited the final gate of Ginkakuji and hung a tight left to walk along a quiet canal. "Quick," said my friend. "Say something philosophical. This is the Philosopher's Walk." (Um.....Ummm.....)

The farther along we walked, the more the conversation disintegrated into belly buttons and poop jokes. I think Nishida Kitaro, the old Kyoto University professor and namesake of this stretch of sidewalk, would've approved. Either that or he would've called us both aho (stupid idiots).

The Philosopher's Walk （哲学の道 Tetsugaku no Michi) is famous for its cherry trees that line the canal below. Though it was the tail-end of winter and the shops were closed for the day, it was still a refreshing stroll in the orange glow of Kyoto at dusk. We stopped every once in a while to laugh at some silly thought, or watch a small, white egret try to catch a fish in the cold running stream flowing in from Lake Biwa.

We'd been strolling like this for nearly an hour, until we arrived at this impressive stone walkway lined with regal, wind-blown pine trees. A towering structure of chocolate-brown wooden pillars, each cut from gigantic trees, invited us in for a closer look. I thought this was a temple in itself. But my friend informed me that this was just the gate. (Just the gate?!) Behold the glorious Sanmon Gate of Chion-In Temple (知恩院）.

We wandered about the grounds around Chion-In and Nanzenji （南禅寺） and were struck to find this very stately red-brick (pink?) aqueduct from 1890, carrying water flowing in from Lake Biwa in the next prefecture. It was fun to climb up and around this still-functioning structure, watching the water gushing in to quench the thirsts of the masses.

As night fell, the temperature dipped and my friend suggested we warm up at Junsei Restaurant (near the Nanzenji Temple parking lot), a popular spot for steaming-hot yudofu (boiled tofu).

The building of Junsei, originally a hospital, was established in 1839 and boasts a gorgeous award-winning traditional Japanese garden.

Boiled tofu squares in light dashi broth, part of a set course meal

Steam from the donabe (土鍋 clay pot) fogged up my friend's glasses, setting off another round of giggles. We each took turns scooping up a cube of tofu, gingerly placing it into a tiny porcelain dish, spiking it with tart ponzu sauce and popping it into our mouths. Accompanied with crunchy tempura vegetables and sweet, savory dengaku (grilled tofu spread with miso paste) the vegetarian meal was light, delicately flavored and cleansing -like spa treatment for the senses. As the warmth of the moment penetrated my cold, aching limbs, I felt myself lulled by the elegant, plucking sounds of the koto background music, slipping into a fantasy of being the chosen company at an imperial feast. I could feel Kyoto's effect begin to sink into my system. And I couldn't wait to explore more of this enchanting city! I knew Kyoto would soon be seeing much, much more of me in the near future.

(Okini, Kyoto. Okini).

BGM: Ano Hi No Kawa by Joe Hisaishi

Every February, Otaru celebrates its mountains of snow with the magical Otaru Snow Light Festival (雪あかりの道, Yuki Akari no Michi), where candles and lanterns are placed in holes in the snow all along the Otaru Canal (小樽運河, Otaru Unga), giving it an enchanting ambiance. This festival attracts hoards of tourists, photographers and couples in love. My dorm mate friend from China and I decided to escape the confines of college life and further explore the artsy-fartsy side of this city of sparkling glass and lights.

Though blizzard conditions made it hard-going, that didn't stop us at all!

Before hitting all the uniquely-themed gift shops and museums, we fueled up on sushi and a few special treats.

Flavors from top to bottom: lavender, Hokkaido milk, Yubari melon, green tea, chocolate, hascap　（北一三号館, Kita-ichi Sangokan）

The Handsome & Friendly Fellas of Chiharu Sushi

Deep-fried Squid Tempura

The museums in question all straddle the far end of Sakaimachidori Street （境町通り）and we decided to hit them all. Our first stop was the Otaru Orgel (Music Box) and Antique Museum (小樽オルゴール堂２号館アンティークミュジアム）, where we saw lots of things our moms would want -like pendant-sized music boxes, dolls, Tiffany lamps and antique furniture. One of the ladies running the museum gave us a delightful pipe-organ and old phonograph demonstration. We were mystified by how simple, old technology could still produce such a pure joy of sound.

We trudged back into the storm and trying not to slip, sloshed through the snow further on down Sakaimachidori to Souvenir Otarukan （小樽館). Much to our surprise, on the second floor, we encountered the most inspiring collection of kaleidoscopes we'd ever seen!

People thought we were crazy for wanting to do the Ice Museum in the middle of winter but we did, anyways. We bundled up in quilted smocks and entered a refrigerated room with walls displaying all things Hokkaido encased in blocks of ice. Stuffed white seals (that used to be alive) and other poor animals stared blindly at us in the ice fog as we were escorted from room to cheesy room. One of the rooms was a cooler set to -40C. But my friend and I were both from cold country so it was no sweat. The girl who took our tickets looked disappointed at our lack of reaction when she finally let us out.

The highlight of the tour was the ice bedroom complete with a starry "sky light" and electric lamp. It reminded me of the snow fort I used to make in our front yard every year as a kid. (As of 2012, the Otaru Ice Museum seems to be closed down, since no information is currently available on the Web).

When Otaru's herring fishery began to flounder in the 1950's, blowers of glass floats and lamps turned their industry towards the production of Venetian-style glass art, putting Otaru on the world map as a producer of high-quality fine glass and crystal products. Otaru has some impressive glass museums like the Museo Dell'Arte Veneziana and Gallery Venini. Unfortunately, as with many Japanese museums and galleries that demand an entry fee, photographs weren't allowed. I wish I could show the amazing art we saw: a real paper wasp hive covered in hundreds of realistic life-size blown glass wasps, a pyramid tower of glass spheres -each one containing a different colored flower design, chandeliers that would make Queen Elizabeth II jealous and true-to-life glass birds to name only a few. For a moment, my friend had to sit down and cry, overwhelmed at the painstakingly exquisite beauty surrounding her. (Too bad this chandelier shot was the only one I could manage).

Inspired to try her own hand at glass-blowing, my friend and I went to K's Blowing, where experts helped her breathe life into her very own orange and red glass vase. For several thousand yen, you get a mini lesson in glass bubble-blowing and after your creation cools, they will ship your work of art to your home a few days later.

As the sky slowly darkened into dusk, it was time to turn around and head back to the canal to watch it twinkle alight in candle flicker. Oh, what a gorgeous sight!

We stayed out there in the cold for about an hour, competing for good angles with professional cameramen all dancing with their tripods. But hunger triumphed yet again, so I suggested we head out to my favorite restaurant in Otaru: Otaru Souko Ichiban (小樽倉庫No. １）, a waterfront German-style beer hall located in one of the old warehouses right on the canal.

Tender and smoky German-style roast pork with savory wine sauce.

Oooh. These guys are smooth!

An appropriate hall for group feasting, indeed!

"Pari Pari" (crunchy) daikon radish salad with ikura salmon roe, carrots, cucumber, katsuobushi and onion dressing.

Souko Ichiban Venetian Masks available in all sizes in the gift shop.

Souko Ichiban's main claim to fame is the Otaru Beer label draft pilsner, dunkel and stout, brewed in gleaming, shiny vats right there in the beer hall.

All warmed up with bulging bellies and a beer buzz, we staggered slowly back up the hill, arm-in-arm (for snow safety!) to Otaru Station to catch a quiet, uncrowded train back to Sapporo. If there's one thing Otaru never lacks in winter, it's snowy streets that need shoveling.

The Old Bank of Japan Museum, built in 1912, looks majestic both night and day- especially when viewed in a drunken state.

Grazie, Otaru. Grazie!

BGM: "Stars" by Nakashima Mika

As I mentioned in a prior blog, one of the many joys of living close to Odori Park is watching it change with the seasons. Throughout the first week of every February (or whenever the snowfall is at its peak), artists and amateurs chisel, saw and torch heaps of snow into shimmering white renditions of famous world landmarks and cartoon characters, transforming all of Odori Park into a winter wonderland.

The Sapporo Yuki Matsuri （さっぽろ雪まつり, Sapporo Snow Festival) is usually held in three locations around the city: Odori Park, Susukino for small ice sculptures and a wider area for the larger structures. This year (2002), the huge ones were near the Makomanai Self-Defense Forces Base. My friends suggested I go there first to feel my jaw drop. So I took the very crowded Namboku (Green) Line from Odori Park to Makomanai Station and merely followed the masses to my destination. (During a festival in Japan, you often don't need to rely on a map or signs. Just follow the crowds as if you were part of a school of salmon swimming in a river and you're as good as there).

Many stalls were strategically lined up from the station all the way down to the sculptures site, selling enticing treats like steaming cocoa and piping-hot corn on the cob.

The hazy half-light of late afternoon made my eyes play tricks on me. But once they focused properly and were able to discern snowy ground from sky, my jaw did indeed drop. The sculptures were simply massive!

Hokkaido's UHB TV Characters

Crayon Shin-Chan Anime Slide Sponsored by Fujifilm!

Most of the sculptures here were interactive in one way or another -built with kids in mind, no doubt. It was very heart-warming to watch both moms and dads playing outside with their children. (This is an increasingly rare thing where I come from, yet a comforting phenomenon still seen throughout Japan).

Shimajiro Character Slide!

There was even a space for kids to make their own snowman to put on display!

I found myself drawn to this particular sculpture representing the cute little mascots of Nissin noodle company's "Chicken Ramen." It didn't do much aside from exuding cuteness. But this was enough for me.

"Chiki-don, Chiki-don, Chiki don-don!"

Back at Odori Park, the festival was getting underway with people shuffling down slippery ditches and sloshing through puddles of water. Once in awhile you'd see the occasional young woman trying to navigate her way in heels -but most folks used their heads for this event.

The air was ringing with the high-pitched sounds of women screaming into mics the praises of the corporations who made these sculptures possible.

Some of the entries were blatantly commercial, like the display for Ghibli Studios "Spirited Away," advertising the greatly anticipated animated feature of the year -complete with piped-in theme music!

"Sento Chihiro no Kamikakushi" (Spirited Away)

In recent years, snow carving teams from around the globe have been participating in the festival. Apparently the more you pay, the bigger your plot of snow to work with. Despite the challenges of budget and space, they all did a fine job. 2002 was a particularly special year for Japan, co-hosting the World Cup with South Korea that year. A key game between England and Argentina would be held at Sapporo Dome. Surely this had something to do with the international feel of this year's Snow Festival.

India Represent!

Awesome Rendition of Gwanghwamun Gate from Team South Korea!

Conan the Detective In China!

Go Team USA!

For some reason, the best part of the festival for me was watching other people respond to the sculptures, like these two ladies in front of the very popular Peeing Boy Statue. One lady (I won't indicate which) "touched" the sculpture in a suggestive place and then the two of them laughed. Oh, what I'd give for a faster camera shutter!

Sapporo Yuki Matsuri is unusual in that it's a major world-renown Japanese festival with absolutely no religious connotations, meaning that anyone can join in on the fun. Some people might criticize that it's too commercialized. But any regular Joe can still participate, much in the same spirit of the six high school kids whose sculptures made the first official Yuki Matsuri back in 1950. I feel tempted to make a snow sculpture in my own local park and see what happens! Maybe it could be the start of something!

• *If you're interested in catching the Sapporo Snow Festival, make sure to check online ahead of time to catch the dates, since it's highly dependent on the weather. It's also a good idea to double-check all locations for the festival. At the time of writing, Makomanai Base has since stopped hosting the festival. The big sculptures are now held at Tsudomu (Tsu Dome) located near Sapporo Satoland.

BGM: Remain by Yuki Koyanagi

After a stimulating day of being spit at by angry fumaroles and gushing geysers at the Jigoku Meguri Hells in Kannawa, my host family agreed it was time we chilled out. We piled into the car and drove up the mist-covered mountain to the Myouban Onsen （明礬温泉）area, where tiered rice fields and small farm houses peer down curiously over Beppu Bay.

Myouban Onsen is one of the 8 hot spring regions of Beppu (Beppu Hato 別府八湯), known for its inaka (countryside) atmosphere. There's a handsome collection of small hot spring lodges and spas here where the water has a high colloidal sulfur content, popular with bathers seeking clear, smooth skin.

As with everywhere else in Beppu, stinky, mineral-rich steam from the magma-heated water comes billowing up from underground through street cracks and gutters. In some areas like Kannawa, the steam is tangy like iron. Here, it comes up reeking of sulfur (that infamous rotten egg smell). Though I personally find the smell of sulfur intoxicating, it was deliciously unnerving to realize that I was walking not too far directly above a very active- and very hot- magma chamber.

We took a little walk around the tiny hell Myouban Jigoku, a small grouping of bubbling mud puddles and steaming fumaroles encrusted with fragile, elegantly shaped yellow sulfur crystals.

Despite the foreboding steam, the newly-installed foot bath was warm and inviting in the chilly wind.

We walked further up the gently curving hill and entered the Yunosato Springs （湯の里） complex. We noticed a small grouping of charming little grass huts dotted with smoking pipes and puddles. These huts, called yunohana-goya (湯の花小屋）are used for growing aluminum/iron sulfate crystals which are ground into fine bath salt powder called yunohana (湯の花）. This process has been used for over two centuries in the Myouban Area. In fact, the name Myouban means "aluminum," as this district was the primary source of the mineral for the entire country during the Edo period. Several huts are opened to the public where visitors can observe the slow but intriguing crystal-growing process.

Sign Reads: "Yakuyong Yunohana" (medicinal bath salts)

Bath salt crystals growing inside the thatched roof hut

The Mechanism: Steam rises through the bed of crushed rock and forms the top layer of crystals.

Some of the crystals can get pretty darn big!

Yunosato has a popular open-air bath with a particularly good view of Beppu Bay. The water is a soft, milky blue-green that seems to glow in the rising steam. If you're too shy to bathe naked in the open air, there are the more expensive but private kazokuburo (family baths), shaped like yunohana-goya, available upon reservation. Since we had plenty of onsen experience, we went for the bath with a view. It was pure heaven!

Entrance to the ladies' bath

Family bath for rent

The restaurant at Yunosato offers several lunch sets featuring regional specialty dishes like toriten (chicken tempura) and dangojiru (hand-rolled wheat flour noodle soup with vegetables in a light miso broth). There's also a decadent (though slightly sulfuric) custard pudding steamed on-site and a refreshing juice made from local kabosu limes (similar in taste to calamansi). Over the years I was able to taste nearly everything on the Yunosato menu -and savored every heart-warming, delicious bite. (American visitors will be pleased with the unusually generous serving portions as well).

Toriten Teishoku (Chicken tempura lunch with salad, simmered veggies, pickled veggies, miso soup, rice and dipping sauce)

Dango Jiru Teishoku (Wheat noodle soup with simmered veggies, pickles, tofu, shiitake mushrooms and rice)

Restaurant- top floor (for large groups)

Restaurant- main floor

Custard pudding steamed on-site, chilled to perfection

Entrance to the Yunosato gift shop

Refreshing kabosu fruit drink

There are two gift shops on the complex: Tomoeya specializing in Kyoto chirimen silk and the Yunosato gift shop (next to the restaurant), offering food and gift products, some from local artisans and farmers like hand-carved wooden toys and locally grown shiitake mushrooms. I personally would always stock up on the famed Yunohana bath salts and kabosu shichimi chili pepper mix -perfect for kicking those soba noodles or dangojiru soup up a notch.

Over subsequent trips to the Myouban area, I learned that buses back down the mountain from Myouban usually don't run late into the night -and that it's helpful to have the phone number of a trusty local taxi cab on hand (preferably in your cell phone's auto-dial). I also learned that it's also a treat to stay at one of the mountain's many onsen lodges so I could take my sweet time at Yunosato without feeling rushed. Plus, if you get up early in the morning, you can even spot some wildlife!

(A Daurian Redstart (Phoenicurus auroreus) perched above a hot spring pool, Yunosato).

In Myouban, there are no loud speakers, no brightly-painted plastic statues, not much here in the way of cheap commercial hype- just the soothing, lulling rhythm of nature and a slower, more mature Japan steeped in lasting tradition and culture. Even if I had only one day in Beppu, without a second thought I would spend it on the steaming slopes of Myouban.

BGM: In the House of Stone and Light by Martin Page

You know what it's like when you see a photo of a certain place and realize you need to go there before you die. It's hard to explain that magnetic force that pulls one in towards their destiny. Perhaps I'm being a little deep about it, but that's the way I've always felt about the Hells of Beppu in Oita Prefecture (Kyushu). They called me to them at the tender age of ten, when I first saw a picture of Blood Pond Hell in a travel book of Japan and I felt the pang of wanderlust inside me. Weird but true.

I'm not a goth, nor do I have a love for things macabre. But just wrapping my mind around the concept of such an eerie place as this occurring in nature was enough to trigger a pyroclastic flow of inspiration and a sense of adventure. I just had to come here! My host family didn't tell me we were actually going to Beppu until the night before we drove out. As you can probably guess, I was too hyper to sleep.

The term jigoku ("hell") in Japanese refers to both the "resting place" of evil spirits and thermal springs too hot for people to bathe in. The Hell Tour covers the most famous nine of the many "hot spots" in Beppu -seven of them located in the Kannawa district and the other two up the mountain near Shibaseki Hot Springs. Any guidebook you pick up will groan on about the cheesy, touristy aspects of Beppu Jigoku Meguri (Beppu Hell Tour). But despite the tacky statues and gimmicks, the star of the show here is still mother nature in all her steamy splendor. I was overjoyed to learn that there were more than just the nine hells mentioned in the guidebooks. Each hell has its own features: steaming fumaroles, geysers and pools, various sculptures (some goofy, some serious), gardens, plants or animals and my favorite: different colored sediments. Almost every color of the rainbow is represented in the boiling ponds and puddles -the color dependent upon various combinations of algae and minerals like iron, calcium and colloidal sulfur.

(Above: My favorite "Pepto-Bismol"-pink hell at Yama Jigoku)

1. 山地獄 (Yama Jigoku, "Mountain Hell")

Mountain Hell got its name from the "mountain" of mud that was thrown up over the years from the hell's activity.

There's a small collection of caged animals and birds here, too -some of them healthy, some of them in questionable condition. For a few hundred yen you can buy potatoes to pitch to the resident hippo.

2. かまど地獄　(Kamado Jigoku, "Cooking-Pot Hell")

The people of Japan have a long, proud history of using geothermal energy for cooking. The oven-shaped fumaroles of Kamado Jigoku were apparently used centuries ago for steaming everything from rice to seafood.

This is one of several hells featuring hard-boiled eggs cooked on-site. There's also a guy that likes to do magic tricks with a lighter and smoke.

3. 海地獄 (Umi Jigoku, "Ocean Hell")

Though an emerald-green lake first greets you when you approach this particular hell, a walk through the main gate leads to a hissing, showering marine-blue hot spring that sprays up so much water it could damage your camera if you're not careful. (I've ruined two perfectly good cameras, here). This jaw-dropping powerful hell was formed 1200 years ago by a dramatic volcanic eruption. Yet the force of the steam constantly shooting out of the earth like a fire hydrant gone haywire gives one the impression that the eruption is ongoing.

Umi Jigoku sports a small red shrine, a pretty red moon bridge over a koi pond and a walkway that climbs up around the back of the hot spring so you can get a good dousing of sulfur-smelling spray. Up a small hill from Umi Jigoku is a geothermal-heated greenhouse with a nice collection of giant pond lilies, as well as an active brick-red colored smaller hell.

This area is a good place to stop for a quick bite of something steamed to eat, like hard-boiled eggs, steamed custard pudding (recommended), corn and sweet potato. A few of the restaurants in this area also feature dango jiru, a savory local vegetable soup with hand-rolled flour noodles.

4. 鬼山地獄 (Oniyama Jigoku, "Devil Mountain Hell")

I found this hell to be a bit too hot for my taste and I didn't think that was possible. It's gated up high so nobody can climb in and good thing! The steam shooting out of this hell is apparently strong enough to pull "one and a half steam engine cars!" I could feel the earth trembling beneath my feet as I approached. Okay, maybe that was only nervousness.

Devil Mountain Hell is also known as "Alligator Hell." There are a hundred of them here! Though they seem friendly with each other all hugging in muddy, lifeless concrete vats, my mind kept repeating that one scene from Romancing the Stone with a gator and a dude with no hand. There are several noisy, raging generators here too and a collection of old, eerie carvings of angry guardian spirits and emaciated fasting Buddhas that made me feel, well, appropriately freaked out. I found myself hurrying to put lots of distance between myself and the scalding steam drenching me from this cauldron of Hades. (Truthfully, I loved every minute of it!)

5. 白池地獄　(Shiraike Jigoku, "White Pond Hell")

This quiet pond is a fresh little oasis of white and green, far away from the overwhelming hissing and churning of the other hells. It's also tastefully decorated with a traditional Japanese garden complete with statues, trees and lush shrubbery.

The water of Shiraike Jigoku is colorless, but changes to milky white over time as the sediments settle at the bottom. The effect of this peaceful white against a green, tropical background is quite soothing to the senses.

6. 鬼石坊主地獄　(Oniishi Bozu Jigoku, "Devil-Stone Shaven Head Hell")

The newest of the hells, this is somewhat of a knock-off of the famous yet unrelated Bozu Jigoku hell up the mountain towards Myouban Hot Springs. (The word bozu is synonymous for both a Buddhist monk in training and a shaved head. The round, shiny bubbles coming up from the mud in these raised vats apparently resemble the bald heads of monks and so this hell was named accordingly). I saw this hell before it went under construction -just a big gray pit of boiling mud roped off from the main walkway and had no monk-like bubbles at the time. When I saw it completed, I could easily guess what effect they were going for.

Though the hells look seriously artificial, the designers built up a very nice foot bath with a stone walkway, inlaid with pebbles of different texture so that when you walk over them in the hot water, your body can benefit from the acupressure. The on-site spa Oniishi no Yu is also pretty classy with the tubs in a loft up in the trees. Sometimes they float huge pomelo fruit in the water to add fragrance and softness.

7. 金龍地獄 (Kinryu Jigoku, "Golden Dragon Hell")

The first time I came here, this hell was included in the ticket book with the other hells. But several years later, apparently things had changed and I was surprised when I had to pay an extra few hundred yen to get in. At times, parts of Kinryu Jigoku were roped off and fountains that once flowed had no trace of water. But when I returned in 2004, everything was up and running again, much to my relief. I have no idea what the politics are surrounding this place, but it still has a lot of charm.

This hell features a steam oven where people can cook their own eggs, a fountain of potable piping-hot sulfuric water (good for imbibing) and a steam bath used for beautifying necks and clearing up sore throats.

Likenesses of Amida Buddha and Kukai (a.k.a. Kobo Daishi, the founder of Buddhism's Shingon school) also reside here, giving the hell a very solemn, temple-like feel. I often saw many adults paying their respects in front of the various statues at this hell.

The final two hells are just up the mountain towards Shibaseki Hot Springs. I usually took a taxi since the cabbies in Beppu are always fun to chat with.

8. 血の池地獄 (Chinoike Jigoku, "Blood Pond Hell")

My host family from Fukuoka thought I'd cry when they first brought me here- the place that called me over space and time. But I didn't. My camera was too busy to let me get all emotional. To me, paradise looks like this.

What impressed me most about Chinoike Jigoku was the ambiance. Instead of sinister, this hell is actually quite relaxing, especially now with the brand new foot bath! This is my absolute favorite place in all of Beppu to relish a peaceful, calming foot-soak under the scarlet red maple leaves on a cool autumn morning.

The iron and sulfur-rich clay of Blood Pond Hell is used for an all-purpose skin ointment, said to cure everything from athlete's foot to sore muscles. I bought a little tin of the stuff and tried it. I can't say anything was cured, but I got a slight buzz from the sulfuric reek.

9. 竜巻地獄 (Tatsumaki Jigoku, "Waterspout Hell")

This geyser, completely encased in stone and concrete, was shaped to create a "waterspout effect" when it shoots up against the roof. The "twister" shape always looked upside-down to me. But having never seen a geyser before, I still thought it was pretty cool. I always made this my first stop on the Hell Tours since timing here is important. If your bus gets here while the geyser is "sleeping" you might have to wait a bit (20-30 minutes) before the show begins.

I've completed the Beppu hell tour circuit a total of six times over the years. At one point, even the gentleman selling the famous high-quality Magma Onsen bath salts at Umi Jigoku could remember me by name! I hope to come by here again and savor this amazing, naturally dynamic place with all of my senses. To me, this geothermal hotbed is my idea of heaven, and all the cultural expressions on the premises only add a measure of fun to the whole package. I seriously hope the essence of Beppu Jigoku Meguri never changes. And if it does, I hope the owners of this little enterprise continue to follow Nature's lead- whose instincts are usually right.

BGM: Deep Blue Sea by Anggun & Deep Forest

It was day 3 of my Kyushu home stay and I was glad to have survived the fugu (poison blowfish) dinner from the night before. Dad was horrible about it. "Don't eat any before me. Just wait for 15 minutes, I'll go first," he said as he aimed his chopsticks into the glistening plate of milky white, translucent fish slices. There was dead silence -everyone with one eye on him and the other on the clock.

Twelve minutes later:

"Oh, my lips are starting to tingle," he said, deadpan. His daughters started laughing and hitting his arm rather hard as he tipped over off his cushion in classic comedian style.

"It's fine," Shiori reassured me, smiling. "Dad's only kidding."
Are you having any, Shiori?" I asked. She quickly shook her head no. I went ahead, figuring I only live once. Dad nodded in approval at my courage as we shared that entire plate of gorgeous fugu sashimi. He taught me how to dab a small amount of momiji (pureed daikon radish flavored with chili pepper) on a slice of fish, top that with a tiny slice of green chive, dip it into the kabosu (miniature lime)-spiked soy sauce and savor the danger. The fish was so delicate, I couldn't detect even a hint of fishiness. No wonder it is such a prized fish! We toasted each other repeatedly with Shiranami potato liquor. Mom seemed to approve of us becoming drinking buddies.

• ***

Reveling over the fact that I could now successfully tick fugu off my "to eat" list, I was ready for whatever the day had to bring. The weather was cooperating nicely so mom decided we should spend the day by the sea. Western Kyushu is well-known throughout Japan for its beach resorts, excellent surfing and seaside national parks. A whole day of this sounded perfect!

We drove down twisting, mountain roads studded with brown rice paddies and bamboo forests to Naritasan Fudoji Temple (not to be confused with Naritasan in Chiba Prefecture, near Tokyo), a lovely structure by the sea near Okagaki Town. The place was alive with the beautiful haunting melodies of Buddhist chanting when we approached the grounds.

This temple is famous for its gigantic kama (rice cooker). They like big things, over here!

After a savory, piping hot sweet potato grilled on bamboo coals, we continued on down Hakata Bay to Marine World Uminonaka aquarium, complete with sea lion and dolphin shows. It was fun to poke around in the darkness, moving from tank to tank, marveling at the weirdness of nature. We saw huge spider crabs, green sea turtles, a sunfish, hammerhead sharks and other colorful aquatic creatures.

When I strayed to the back of the facility, I saw a pilot whale in an outdoor pool and apologized on the spot for what happened in Minamikayabe, swearing that it would never happen again. I have a feeling that maybe he apologized on behalf of the shark population, for all the fear they instilled in my own species. After this confession of my soul, I was able to move on.

The sun gave us a spectacular show as it graced the beaches of Hakata Bay.

I guess looking at all that crab in the aquarium made mom hungry, since that was the main for dinner, that evening! Crab stew pot! Yum-ola!

BGM: Traveling by Utada Hikaru

My home stay in Minamikayabe had drawn to a close and it was time for me to embark upon the next leg of my New Year's journey: a trip to the southern island of Kyushu. Masaru would be staying in Hokkaido with his family and Shiori had already flown on down ahead of me to deliver the family seafood presents on time. So, with many hugs, bows, tears and much laughter, I was on the next train to Chitose Airport.

From Chitose, I flew to Nagoya Int'l. Stepping into the main terminal I could not believe how many people where there, all bundled up in black and beige overcoats, a sea of businessmen and traveling families all trying to get home for the holidays. The storm that just finished ravaging Hokkaido was now approaching the mainland and strong winds had delayed many flights. There were hundreds of people just standing around waiting. I had about an hour's wait til my connection, so I ordered a steaming, savory bowl of Nagoya's classic flat-noodle soup: kishimen. Spiked with pepper and flavored with green onion and threads of swirled egg, the noodles were light yet surprisingly filling and tasted perfect on a cold, windy day. (They quite resembled my mom's hand-cut noodles!). As I savored my soup, the song Traveling by Utada Hikaru played on the food kiosk's TV monitor, filling the air with a festive vibe of forward motion. ("Traveling, mado wo traveling sagete nanimo kowakunai mo-doh...").
I was ready to roll!

Shiori and her family were already there waiting for me when I walked into the bustling, crowded Fukuoka International Airport. Her mom and sisters laughed out loud in surprise as I gave each one of them a big ole' Alaskan-style hug. Mom's accent was a little different than that of Masaru's family in Hokkaido, but for some reason, I could understand her more easily. I thought it was going to be hot this far south, but everyone was still bundled up in their winter clothes, some people carrying skis and snowboards. Snow in Kyushu? Are you kidding me?

The oldest sister drove us out of the concrete city and into the hilly suburbs. The houses here had softer, more angled roofs with a sense of traditional Japanese design, not the typical box-shaped houses like in downtown Sapporo. We pulled up to Shiori's home in the small castle town of Kokura. Mom, a professional kimono designer and fitter, immediately set me to the fun task of holding obi sashes and collar folds in place as she dressed up her daughters in their lovely seasonal kimono. It was dizzying watching her keep track of every little fold. There was a real system to it! But mom made it look so easy: a pin here, a yank there, a strap here. Within minutes, each of her daughters had transformed into lovely noblewomen, slender and feminine. Mom then sent us out as she transformed herself into a vision of elegance in muted coppers and fawn browns, simply breathtaking with a rich, navy wool stole across her graceful shoulders.

We each carried packages of food to the New Year's banquet at their neighbor's house just a short walk up the hill, zori sandals flapping and slapping. (I wanted to record that sound!) The low, black table was spread with all manor of New Year's delights, with plates of local fish, vegetable and tofu dishes complementing the jubako boxes full of traditional osechi ryori. Before eating, it was the tradition to partake of toso, the New Year's sake. Like in the tea ceremony, everyone shares in the joy and hopes for a prosperous year. The host said a few welcoming words, took the first sip, and passed the cup around, ceremonially cleansing it with an elegant swipe of a perfectly folded napkin. When it finally came time for me to drink, I had somewhat of an idea of how to hold and sip it. The sake was sweet like sugar candy and as strong as any vodka out there. "Delicious" isn't a good enough word to describe it.

We drank hard and partied long into the night. At the beginning of the celebration, I couldn't understand anything without help from Shiori. But strangely enough, the more sake I drank, the more I understood! It was a miracle! Sake cups clinked with beer glasses as we laughed and sang ourselves silly. When the menfolk started falling asleep against the walls, we knew it was time to head back to Shiori's house for the night. As soon as my body hit that soft, cozy futon, I was out like a light.

The next morning, after a wonderful vegetarian breakfast of tofu and different kinds of greens like mizuna and mustard leaves, mom told me that it was "my turn." She found a kimono that might work for me! Shiori coached me to suck in my gut as far as it would go as the wide, silk obi sash was pulled so tight around me my back popped into place! (I have to say that it felt marvellous, like corrective shiatsu massage!) I couldn't help but think how much muscle power this wispy, delicate woman had! She was incredible! Though the kimono wouldn't shut closed in the front, we all laughed about it and she proceeded taking proud pictures from the back and sides. She'd done the impossible!

Tadah! Packed in like a can o' salmon!!

Since it was too cold to do omairi (shrine-visiting) in kimono, I changed back into my comfortable but boring jeans and long-sleeved tees, layering up as much as possible since snow was in the forecast. Yup, you read me right: snow!

We drove to the old, rustic Miyajidake Shrine in Fukutsu City. The wind was cold and blustery, pushing flurries of snow to drift and swirl up and down the mountainsides. Even in Japan's deep south, it was still biting cold down here! Brrr!

Gaily colored yatai (street vendors) spanned in long rows from the shrine's main entrance, selling everything from wooden clogs to fried chicken nuggets. We warmed up with a hot, sweet cup of amazake (hot fermented rice porridge drink) and then Shiori and her mom proceeded to teach me about the many steps to proper omairi. We washed our hands at the dragon-shaped fountain just inside the giant torii gate, trudged along with the slow-moving crowd to the box where we would bow, throw our money in and clap our hands to make a wish. Me being of a different faith, it was enough for me to just respectfully watch the spectacle. After the family finished praying, we wandered around the temple grounds to the place where some high-school aged shrine girls dressed in hakama kimono were selling various amulets and postcards.

Shiori payed one of the girls a few hundred yen, told me to rattle a little wooden box filled with sticks and pull one of them out. The number would correspond to a little drawer with small white slips of paper inside. This was my omikuji (fortune), she explained. I pulled out my paper and handed it to Shiori to translate. She shrieked out loud as if she'd won the lottery! "You lucky lady!" she shouted, slapping my arm. I got the "daikichi," the luckiest of the 16-some odd choices. I really had no idea what it all meant, but it was fun to go along with it as I tied my fortune to a fence marked with thousands of others. My life was awesome enough without belief in luck, but it was fun to tease the others about their lower fortunes to the point where they told me to shut up (evil grin).

Walking around the grounds of Miyajidake Shrine, we saw many blaring red, weather-worn torii gates, a giant bell, an even bigger taiko drum and a collection of perfectly preserved ashibukiyane thatched roof houses at nearby Minzokumura folk village. Hundreds of years old and still standing, they completely enchanted me as I poked around them, my jaw dropped in perpetual awe. Those houses were older than my entire culture!

Chilled to the bone, we went home to heat up with some piping hot yakimochi (sticky rice dumplings) and green tea. We warmed our frozen legs by the kerosene heater, watching the hot coals on the brazier until we all fell slept like cozy cats in front of the TV. Shiawase! (Happiness!)