I was home for just a few brief days after my last trip to Japan. Like home for two days and then back on the road. The good news is that I still have a job, the bad news seems to be that I'm absorbing all the travel that my terminated co-workers previously handled. While they didn't travel all that much, their little travel times, combined with my massive travel time, is equating to no time at home for me.
This week I'm back in Japan (after spending last week in California) where I'll stay for four days, then head back to the US on Friday morning. I leave here Friday morning, fly to CA, then present materials to our customer this Friday afternoon. Humm.....customer presentation after about thirty hours of being awake....bad idea.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Ema
In the Shinto religion the Gods are called "kami". Kami represents the spirt of the earth, the wind, mountains, so forth. When we die, the Shinto regligion believes that we become those spirts, the kami. Today one form that the Shinto use for their prayers to the kami is through Ema. Ema's are smalled wooden plaques upon which the living can make their prayers to those that are departed for good fortune, success on a test, and so on.
To me it was very similar to the candles in a Catholic Church.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Onsen-Scrubbing down
For many years I’ve wanted to experience a Japanese Onsen. (Check out Wikipedia if you want more information.)
I wandered into the Onsen entrance and parted company with my shoes and stuffed them in a locker. I check in at the front desk and they give me another key that straps to my wrist. This is a key fob, not an actual mechanical key. I opt to purchase access to the Onsen and access to the “bonus” floor so that I can experience further leisure activities. The bonus floor has extra saunas, extra ponds, chair massage and food that I can purchase should I be struck with the munchies.) They give me two pairs of jammies, one set for the main floor and one set for the bonus floor. My main floor jammie color is blue, bonus floor jammie is brown. I take my two outfits, plus two sets of towels, and head for the mens locker room.
While I had an idea of what to expect, it is still a bit shocking to walk into the men’s locker room and find that almost everyone is buck naked. Naked and talking, naked and drinking, naked and scratching, just naked and hanging out and shooting the breeze with each other, or not talking at all. Just…..being…..naked. Some of the men are watching golf on a big screen TV, with their jammies on, and some are sitting in towels watching the golf, some are sitting and reading, some dozing. Humm…. Just how comfortable am I being naked with a bunch of other men? Suddenly, I’m not so sure.
I opt to change in to my jammies and grab a sports drink (one swipe of the key fob) and pretend to watch a bit of golf while attempting to not hyper ventilate. I am the only Caucasian in the spa. I’m trying to read the printed material that they gave me when I checked it, but it’s no use, I know I’m really tense and stalling for time to avoid the unavoidable. The printed material gives me the layout of the Onsen, but it doesn’t give me etiquette of the water world. I putter around and continue stalling and then I head back to my locker, remove my jammies, grab a small hand towel and head into the spa area. I know enough of the Onsen etiquette to hold the towel in front of my precious bits, but that’s about all I know.
Immediately upon walking through the door I find an above ground well with water flowing into it from an overhead bamboo water pipe. There are small wooden buckets with long handles floating in the well. I notice that some of the men are wringing out their wet towels and since mine isn’t wet, I opt to dip it into the well. Strike one! One passerby gives me a semi-dirty look and makes quite an elaborate show of taking out the water bucket and pouring water onto his private towel. The whole time he’s doing this we’re looking each other in the eye. Ok, ok, ok, I understand, I fouled up the water with my clean and dry towel. I mimic him and head out towards the open spa area.
Entering the open spa area, I can see many different soaking tubs, each one containing a couple of men. Immediately to my left I notice six rows of small booths, for lack of a better term. (Check out the pictures here, http://www.galenfrysinger.com/onsen_japan.htm to get a rough idea of what I’m speaking of. This isn’t where I went, but you’ll get the general idea.)
I head to the back row of booths and select a spot near the corner. I very carefully ease my 240lbs onto the Lilliputian stool and drape my private towel across my lap to cover up the precious bits. Ok, now what? With extreme care, I am able to view, from edge of my eyeball, that my fellow shower buddies are hosing themselves down with their own private shower wands. Ah ha! I get it. Rinse down with these! Each stall has its own wand. There’s a petal to push to turn the water. I turn it on and start rinsing. Private towel falls to the floor. The water turns off automatically after ten or fifteen seconds. I turn it back on and hose myself down. I squirt some soap into my hands, get lathered up, and then rinse it all off, start to finish in about sixty seconds.
I steal a glace at those sitting around me and notice that no one else has finished, so I lather up again and rinse. 90 seconds start to finish. No one else has finished. I collect my tasty bits towel from the floor, rinse it off, wring it out and lay it across my lap.
I again watch my scrubbing mates and observe that everyone is really, really into washing them selves. I scrub again, and again and again. I scrub between my toes, behind my ears, every where that I can reach. No stone shall remain unturned eh? I see that my next door mate is standing up to rinse off, so I try that too. Not so good. I loose control of the magic wand and hose down my next door neighbors. Tasty bits towel falls on the floor. I hunker back down and put conditioner in my hair, which I never do, just to kill time. Notice that tasty bits towel is back on the floor. Pick back up, wring it out, toss it back over my lap.
After a solid ten minutes of scrubbing, I can’t take it anymore and I get up and head for the soaking ponds, covering up my tasty bits as I go with my hand towel.
I wandered into the Onsen entrance and parted company with my shoes and stuffed them in a locker. I check in at the front desk and they give me another key that straps to my wrist. This is a key fob, not an actual mechanical key. I opt to purchase access to the Onsen and access to the “bonus” floor so that I can experience further leisure activities. The bonus floor has extra saunas, extra ponds, chair massage and food that I can purchase should I be struck with the munchies.) They give me two pairs of jammies, one set for the main floor and one set for the bonus floor. My main floor jammie color is blue, bonus floor jammie is brown. I take my two outfits, plus two sets of towels, and head for the mens locker room.
While I had an idea of what to expect, it is still a bit shocking to walk into the men’s locker room and find that almost everyone is buck naked. Naked and talking, naked and drinking, naked and scratching, just naked and hanging out and shooting the breeze with each other, or not talking at all. Just…..being…..naked. Some of the men are watching golf on a big screen TV, with their jammies on, and some are sitting in towels watching the golf, some are sitting and reading, some dozing. Humm…. Just how comfortable am I being naked with a bunch of other men? Suddenly, I’m not so sure.
I opt to change in to my jammies and grab a sports drink (one swipe of the key fob) and pretend to watch a bit of golf while attempting to not hyper ventilate. I am the only Caucasian in the spa. I’m trying to read the printed material that they gave me when I checked it, but it’s no use, I know I’m really tense and stalling for time to avoid the unavoidable. The printed material gives me the layout of the Onsen, but it doesn’t give me etiquette of the water world. I putter around and continue stalling and then I head back to my locker, remove my jammies, grab a small hand towel and head into the spa area. I know enough of the Onsen etiquette to hold the towel in front of my precious bits, but that’s about all I know.
Immediately upon walking through the door I find an above ground well with water flowing into it from an overhead bamboo water pipe. There are small wooden buckets with long handles floating in the well. I notice that some of the men are wringing out their wet towels and since mine isn’t wet, I opt to dip it into the well. Strike one! One passerby gives me a semi-dirty look and makes quite an elaborate show of taking out the water bucket and pouring water onto his private towel. The whole time he’s doing this we’re looking each other in the eye. Ok, ok, ok, I understand, I fouled up the water with my clean and dry towel. I mimic him and head out towards the open spa area.
Entering the open spa area, I can see many different soaking tubs, each one containing a couple of men. Immediately to my left I notice six rows of small booths, for lack of a better term. (Check out the pictures here, http://www.galenfrysinger.com/onsen_japan.htm to get a rough idea of what I’m speaking of. This isn’t where I went, but you’ll get the general idea.)
I head to the back row of booths and select a spot near the corner. I very carefully ease my 240lbs onto the Lilliputian stool and drape my private towel across my lap to cover up the precious bits. Ok, now what? With extreme care, I am able to view, from edge of my eyeball, that my fellow shower buddies are hosing themselves down with their own private shower wands. Ah ha! I get it. Rinse down with these! Each stall has its own wand. There’s a petal to push to turn the water. I turn it on and start rinsing. Private towel falls to the floor. The water turns off automatically after ten or fifteen seconds. I turn it back on and hose myself down. I squirt some soap into my hands, get lathered up, and then rinse it all off, start to finish in about sixty seconds.
I steal a glace at those sitting around me and notice that no one else has finished, so I lather up again and rinse. 90 seconds start to finish. No one else has finished. I collect my tasty bits towel from the floor, rinse it off, wring it out and lay it across my lap.
I again watch my scrubbing mates and observe that everyone is really, really into washing them selves. I scrub again, and again and again. I scrub between my toes, behind my ears, every where that I can reach. No stone shall remain unturned eh? I see that my next door mate is standing up to rinse off, so I try that too. Not so good. I loose control of the magic wand and hose down my next door neighbors. Tasty bits towel falls on the floor. I hunker back down and put conditioner in my hair, which I never do, just to kill time. Notice that tasty bits towel is back on the floor. Pick back up, wring it out, toss it back over my lap.
After a solid ten minutes of scrubbing, I can’t take it anymore and I get up and head for the soaking ponds, covering up my tasty bits as I go with my hand towel.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Sleep? Who needs sleep?!?
I'm back in Japan this week. I flew here yesterday after spending the weekend in Ohio.
Everyone thinks that international travel is so exotic. In my case, that’s just not so.
My first bus ride (1:15 in duration) wasn't bad. I sat next to Grace, so the seats weren't quite so confining. (Time awake= 3 or 4 hours)
My first flight yesterday (2 hours) found me with a seat mate (coach) who aggressively wanted the entire arm rest and quite a bit of my reading space as well. Sleep time = 20/30 min. (Time awake= 6 or 8 hours)
Second flight (12:30 hours, in coach, in the back of the plane) found me wedged between two snoring, arm flopping, seriously leg twitching, burping, farting men. Sleep time = 20/30 min. (Time awake = 20 or 22 hours)
Second bus ride (2:00) wasn't horrible, but wasn't great. I was worried about missing my bus stop (a very bad thing when you don't speak the language!) so I tried to keep myself awake (Time awake = 22-24 hours) but kept nodding off.
I grabbed some dinner after I checked into my hotel. I'm sure everyone around me was pleased to be seating next to the foreigner who smelled like a goat, but I didn't care. I just didn't care.
I went to bed around 10:30PM and slept until about 3:30AM. The AC in my room is more of a theoretical concept than an actuality. I had it down as low as it would go, on the highest flow available, and it was still very warm in my room. The AC is just enough to take the edge off. I swear I always forget that when I'm staying in small hotels here. AC=reduced heat/humidity, not AC=total comfort.
Everyone thinks that international travel is so exotic. In my case, that’s just not so.
My first bus ride (1:15 in duration) wasn't bad. I sat next to Grace, so the seats weren't quite so confining. (Time awake= 3 or 4 hours)
My first flight yesterday (2 hours) found me with a seat mate (coach) who aggressively wanted the entire arm rest and quite a bit of my reading space as well. Sleep time = 20/30 min. (Time awake= 6 or 8 hours)
Second flight (12:30 hours, in coach, in the back of the plane) found me wedged between two snoring, arm flopping, seriously leg twitching, burping, farting men. Sleep time = 20/30 min. (Time awake = 20 or 22 hours)
Second bus ride (2:00) wasn't horrible, but wasn't great. I was worried about missing my bus stop (a very bad thing when you don't speak the language!) so I tried to keep myself awake (Time awake = 22-24 hours) but kept nodding off.
I grabbed some dinner after I checked into my hotel. I'm sure everyone around me was pleased to be seating next to the foreigner who smelled like a goat, but I didn't care. I just didn't care.
I went to bed around 10:30PM and slept until about 3:30AM. The AC in my room is more of a theoretical concept than an actuality. I had it down as low as it would go, on the highest flow available, and it was still very warm in my room. The AC is just enough to take the edge off. I swear I always forget that when I'm staying in small hotels here. AC=reduced heat/humidity, not AC=total comfort.
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