Hakone, Here I Am!

Tenzan, Hakone, originally uploaded by bloompy.

Once upon a time I had a student, an award-winning surfer from Hawaii, who with his girlfriend went to Japan during one winter. He related a story to me when they went up to Hakone, sitting in an outdoor hot springs, enjoying the hot mineral soak when suddenly the snow started to fall down. He thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever encountered. As he lived most of his life in the ever-sunny Hawaii and then spent four years in the mild-weathered California, he never chanced upon a real winter with snow. He was truly mesmerized by the sight of falling snow.

Since my frequent visits to Japan few years ago, which was followed by my recent transplant to Tokyo, I have often wanted to go up to Hakone to have the same experience my student had the fortune to have. I never realized that wish until a friend from Long Beach came to visit. I used this opportunity to ask a Japanese friend of mine -Kazu- if he would mind showing us the way, and, to my delight, he agreed. Kazu, who did not even know my Long Beach friend, treated us by buying the train tickets to Hakone and giving us two folders of towel set.

We took the Odakyu "Romance Car" at 11 o'clock from Shinjuku-eki (eki=station) with this non-stop train, passing Odawara and delivering us to Hakone-yumoto station. The trip took about 90 minutes. There are other times to take similar train, but this one is a limited express and had no transfer, making it not only a convenience but also very popular, especially during the weekend. Outside, the weather was grey, and rain had been falling since morning. I was hoping that up in the mountains this would translate into a snowfall.

Upon arrival at the Hakone-yumoto-eki, Kazu asked us if we should walk or ride a cab to the hot springs where he wanted to take us. He informed us that it would probably take about 20 minutes to hike up there. Because of the weather, we decided it best to take the taxi, and so we did. Along the way, I looked to my Long Beach friend and said that such path could not have been done in 20 minutes (and this comment came from me, who walked the fastest among friends)! Probably at least 45 minutes will be needed to walk in a comfortable pace. The track goes up and up, and that can slow down those who are not used to such an incline path.

Tenzan (天山) was the day-resort to which Kazu had taken us. Right after we were dropped off by the taxicab, we went to a small depot that housed two ticket machines. Each adult paid ¥1200 (roughly $12) while children would pay slightly less. From there, we followed the stairs up to the lobby area, entering the building of the hot springs proper. As usual, shoes off and into the lockers; then, tickets were presented, and we headed down toward the men's locker area. The baths are divided by gender. There are others mixed-gender hot springs in Hakone, but this one is separated.

After shedding our clothes, we went to scrub our bodies. We just followed our friend without a word, but when we dipped into the first pool, AWMYGAWD! It was so hot that I thought I saw my entire skin left me in that pool alone. It felt scalding hot, and my Long Beach friend and I wondered if this was the mildest one; to our relief, this was not the case. I guess the first pool was designed to kill any germs before we went to dip in the other ones. There were a total of 6 dips: 3 under the roof, 3 al-fresco (including two cascading pools on a higher ground) plus one freakingly freezing cold pool. There was also a sauna that I thought must have been Japanese style: very low ceiling, with people sitting Buddha style on a wooden platform (there were a total of 10 platforms). Some people rubbed salt on themselves before entering the sauna.

My friend and I were quite happy with the hot springs, thanks to Kazu. We changed location every 10 minutes or so, with intermittent visits to the sauna and sometimes just sitting on the bench with nothing on but a tiny towel to express our humility. I believe that going to the hot springs during winter is best for the very reason of juxtaposition between the two temperatures. I have yet to find out what happens here during the summer weather, if at all this area gets warm enough to close the gap between the temperatures.

After two hours of soaking, we went out and got dressed, lying for 15 minutes or so in the tatami-matted common area, which had a glass door that opened to a balcony (the accompanying picture was taken from this area, looking at the outside; Kazu was taking his cigarette break outside). The long roof over a walkway led one to the different restaurants available on that complex. We opted for the shabu-shabu, which was a great choice because of the cold weather outside and the hot shabu-shabu inside. We were soooo relaxed that my friend and I were reluctant in returning back to the bath; you know, just like skiing in the morning, then having lunch mid-day, and at least for me (with the warmth of the restaurant that sometimes was located mid-high up the mountain) I was reluctant to put on my skiing boots back and go out to ski again. Alas, we were mistaken; the second round of soak turned out to be much better than the first. Maybe it was because we were even more relaxed, with our tummy full and brain half-dead, the soak took the last of our energy and we became extremely comfortable; quite a relieving feeling.

Thus, it was with some regret that we had to remove ourselves from this heaven of a place ( 天山 literally means Heaven/Sky Mountain), but for me, there was always a promise for a return soon. I am hoping to make another sojourn before the cold weather disappears altogether.

Japan Immigration Gets More Strict

There was an article late in 2004 that said that Japan Immigration at the major airports like Narita will start taking digital photographs of visitors coming into the country, much like what the United States had started doing recently. Prior to my arrival at Narita today, I prepped myself while still airborne, making sure that no one would take a horrible mugshot of yours truly after 11 hours of flight.

As it turned out, the photo-on-the-spot thing had not yet taken place, but what I noticed earlier was that the landing card had changed. It used to ask for a home address, which one was expected to fill in with a complete home address including street and address number, etc. This time around, only city and country needed to be mentioned. The space for "purpose of visit" used to be a very small block at the bottom corner of the disembarkation card, but is now extended with a multiple choice (business, tourism, transit, others...). They now also ask not only the address where you will reside during your visit, but also a phone number.

I was also oblivious to the fact that there was a fine print at the bottom of the landing card, advising me to turn the card around for more things to read and to fill. On the back side were four more questions about your visit and who you are, completed only when you sign at the bottom of the card. I failed to do this and was asked to do it on the spot. The immigration officer also asked the name of the person who was supposed to be my host. The officer was young, probably just out of college; he was very thorough and polite.

Customs did not give me any problem; it never has, really. The one time they did ask a lot of things, they got around in asking what I did. When I responded that I taught at a university, his demeanor changed. He thought I was a businessman. Apaprently Japanese still have respects for academic figures; how quaint.

The End and a New Beginning

A quick pause, a nod, and respect for the dead: the Tsunami's number is still climbing. Indonesian Acehnese suffered the most as their family and friends were decimated and their land was bulldozed by the forceful and murderous wave.

Internet Site Non-Grata in China

Since my arrival in Shanghai, I have not been able to access my own blog. I could write, edit, publish, but I could not see the result. I tried accessing other blogs, such as stilleggplant.blogspot.com, but could not do it either. I think we all know what is happening here. The website filtering in this country is effective. Sometimes I just forget that I am in China, especially when Shanghai seems very cosmopolitan, wordly, and like other modern and progressive big cities.

Xin Tian Di and the French Concession

The Tranquil Sinan Lu in the Shanghai French Concession, originally uploaded by bloompy.

Xin Tian Di (the New Heaven and Earth) is located at the periphery of the French Concession. In the olden days, Shanghai is divided into different districts as a result of the Westerners trying to carve out a part of the city for their own fellow compatriots. Thus, Shanghai has the British Concession, the American Concession (these two later became the International Settlement), and the French Concession.

When I arrived at Xin Tian Di, I saw immediately the restaurant that my friend had recommended, Xin Ji Shi. I thought of going in but decided to walk around and take pictures first. The area retained and renovated the beautiful old-brick shikumen-style buildings (stone gatehouses). The complex, opened in 2001, is buzzing at night with the young crowd converging for eats and drinks and a little shopping. Instead of neon-advertising lights, the area employs small flags to announce the names of the businesses.

It was fortunate that I decided to walk around first, because then I bumped into T8, a restaurant that had been widely praised by critics and included in the Conde Nast top 50 restaurants in the world. My friend had also mentioned this restaurant to me, although he himself had never been. I will write a review of this restaurant in my yet-to-be created site, but for now, let it be known that this restaurant with a cuisine of Mediterranean and Asian fusion is worth going. The "M on the Bund" may have a balcony with a nice view of the Huang Pu River, but the food pales in comparison to T8. Stephen Wright, the executive chef here, is very friendly and approachable. The open kitchen -a square area where he and his staff performed their daily and nightly culinary tasks, protrudes into the dining room. From here he can survey the entire ground floor.

After this very satisfying lunch, I went to take a very long stroll into the French Concession, a walk that lasted for about 4 hours. I just followed the recommended stroll by the guidebook but occasionally strayed and went into the alleys and back ways, which always provided great opportunities for viewing the old "shikumen" style architecture. Of the 111 pictures shot today, some were of adults sitting, reading, working, socializing, and children playing. Yes, 111 pictures today and about 147 yesterday: ah, the joy of digital camera. You can just take as many with no worries about the developing cost. Even if you make a mistake, you can just take another one and delete the undesired ones later.

There was not much of a landmark in today's walk, except for the former house of Sun Yat Sen and Zhou En Lai on Sinan Lu; but the neighborhood alone was remarkable. I was surprised to find how clean Shanghai was: no trash lying around. (It was etched rather deep in my mind that most, if not all, Chinatowns in the western world and in Indonesia were always messy and littered with trash.) Just like the ones I found in the Bund area, the sidewalks and some of the buildings seemed very grimy, polluted, and could benefit from extreme scrubbing; but otherwise, the area was devoid of littered trash. Even when there was a construction (major and minor), the debris and trash were kept within its respective compound. Another friend did tell me that he had walked a little bit away from the city center, and that was where he found the run-down neighborhood with trash and puddles everywhere. There is a huge gap between wealth and poverty in the city.

Today I also came in contact with a lot of vehicular traffic; the fume proved too much at one point that I had to escape to a nearby garden, which happened to be the tranquil Ruijin Guesthouse, a sprawling compound with several buildings that are currently used for hotel rooms. I kept telling myself that I had to wash my face after I returned to my hotel. I must have looked like that grimy sidewalk by the end of the day; I need an extreme scrubbing as well, I suppose.