Day 43: (74 km) Nonoichi - Kada - Mikuni
(09/10/06)

Bye bye beautiful Ishikawa, hello beautiful Fukui-ken. Passing by Lake Kitagata we're treated to schools of flying fish tracing arcs out of the water, landing with tiny machinegun splooshes and the occasional plop. On the road, tiny purplish-brown crabs scurry out of the way of our little caravan. Chay--who has thus far saved a small grounded fish by putting it in his water bottle, helped Audrey care for a wounded bird, and moved various worms, bugs and critters out of harm's way--accidentally runs over one of the little arthropods with a crunch.

Around nine we rolled into Kada, a smallish town that would have been unmemorable but for two things: a town matsuri, and the rain. With a stroke of luck, we got our bikes under the awning of the characteristically oversized town office just as the rain came down. After a four-and-a-half-hour rest, stuffing ourselves with festival food, the rain had let up and we were ready to move on. . . To Yuske's parent's house.

We met Yuske for the first time in Aomori-ken, and again in Sado. Like many guys in Japan I met who date high-strung girls, he was very, very chill. And an artist. The first part I understand in an opposites attract sort of way. But why the artistic-chill guys and high-strung/high-energy girls end up together is beyond me. As is why artistic-chill girls don't end up with high-strung guys here. It just works out that way.

When we last saw Yuske in Aomori he suggested that we stop at his parents' house near Fukui-ken's coast. As of yesterday, we thought we would be well past it by nightfall. Thanks to the four-hour rain however, it looked like a good place to stop for the night. After some last minute phone calls to our artist friend and we were on track to meet his parents.

Mary and Chay at Tojimbo

In keeping with the local pride one finds nearly everywhere in Japan, they told us that we had to see Tojimbo--a dramatic series of basalt cliffs on the Japan Sea, famous for being, well, a dramatic series of basalt cliffs. To ensure that we saw it, they told us to go there and call them after we took in the rocky coast. Only then would they meet us.

Powdered Squid Ink for Soft-Serve--Tastier than it Sounds

That evening at Yuske's parents' house was well worth the stop. They know how to entertain and have the means to do so. We got used to feasting like kings at some of our Nagano events, but that night, we feasted like friends. At least Yuske's dad and I did, chatting away and lining up our empty beer cans in a wordless contest. Also present were Yuske's uncle (the number 3 soba-master in Fukui and the number 2 ski instructor), his younger brother who stopped by with his catch of the day, a crazy friend of the family, and her lovely daughter with her friendly-but-slightly-nervous boyfriend.

Dinner at the Ryori

Well after dinner, just as I was ready to collapse in my perfectly-made-up futon, Yuske's dad stopped me in the hallway with that most Japanese of questions, "do you like sake?" After his generosity, refusing my host would have been poor form. A couple glasses of good, Fukui sake down, I finally made it to that impeccable futon, but not before trying to convince everyone that we should push back our wake-up to six AM.

Father of Yuske

Day 42: (28 km) Uchinada - Nonoichi
(09/09/06)

Kanazawa is good place--a small city, cosmopolitan and historic. Old samurai houses mingle with trendy restaurants and department stores, traditional izakaya nuzzle next to hip design and fashion boutiques. Other than Kobe, it is the only Japanese city I've been to that is a real café city.

But there is something sad about being in a café city without a close friend, a lover, someone close to you. Every cozy coffee house, restaurant, tea shop designed as the perfest space for intimate looks, heated discussion, human connection. I could have spent the afternoon yesterday with Amy and Mary at Kenrokuen--one of Japan's three famous gardens--but being in Kanazawa again brought me back to winter, when I was here with E. It was a good trip, full of food, snow, and even a few laughs. Revisiting a cafe city without the person who made it special the first time is doubly sad.

Finding a hint of Peace at the Izakaya

But Japan is welcoming place for people on their own. Before long, I found a comfortable izakaya on a quiet canal-lined street. Sitting outside with a beer, some yaki-mochi, and my notebook, I settled on a happy sort of solitude.

Tonight, a mournful jazz tune wafts out of the Medicina Café, a solo trumpet's story of sweetness and loss. It's a little much to take, this sad trumpet talking to me as I sit here alone, surrounded by dusk. I remember someone who should be here beside me, and a city more conducive to jazz. It was a sad city too.

* * * * *

This morning we were scheduled to help with a tree planting in Uchinada. "Planting" may have been a bit of an exaggeration since all we did was toss some dirt over the already set trees and save a few of the women from caterpillars.

Tree Planting Gets Exciting

Lunch was at a macrobiotic restaurant. Though tasty, it left me no clearer as to what "macrobiotic" food actually is. Then a few people went off to a hippie-fest that I avoided. Feeling another bout of loneliness coming on, I didn't want to be reminded of all the good times at festivals my first year, with friends who have long since departed Japan.

Day 41: (30 km) Uchinada
(09/09/06)

Leaving an onsen-hotel is hard. It's like trying to tear yourself out of the plush recliner at your parents' or grandparents' house. After extracting yourself, there is always a feeling that something has been left behind, sucked in by the comfort.

But the kids were expecting us, and it's bad to let down the kids. Our elementary school visit today was a bit strange, as it was hijacked by our friendly, no-nonsense host. Having been forewarned that our control would be minimal, I was content to follow along. The best part of school visits, after all, is playing with the kids afterwards, and today I was mauled by little ones wanting to shake hands, hang on my arm, and do anything to prevent my departure. Each school, someone else gets to be the rock star. For no apparent reason, it was my turn today.

After shaking off the kiddies and making an exit, we stopped by the mayor's office, made the requisite small talk, and were hurried on to lunch. While most of our lunch hosts were interesting, the lively, seventy-two year old chef was definitely the lady of the hour. After energetic descriptions of each dish--kabocha bisque and konten dessert being the highlights--she kept pushing more on us, refilling our plates cups. Spilling some tea on my leg, she was quick to blot it up, eager in fact. Very eager. It led to an animated talk about younger men as she friskily smacked my thigh, cackling joyously and reminding everyone that she was seventy-two all the while. She was a feisty one for sure.

At lunch--between eating and being vigorously fondled--I met Bryce and Colleen, our hosts for the evening. Talking with them later in the afternoon, I learned that they work for a missionary aid organization. Contrary to the missionary stereotype, they aren't the slightest bit preachy or evangelical--just good people doing their thing. This is the second time on the trip we've stayed with a happily married couple with a baby soon to be popping out. Again, I felt a strong desire for a certain degree of domesticity. After traipsing around for the past four years, I may be getting ready to move on to something a bit more settled.

Day 40: (80 km) Toyama - Uchinada
(08/07/09)

Half way done with the trip. Just half way. Ten weeks feels like a long time some days. The cycling isn't hard--this is the best shape I've been in since high school. Emotionally, however, the ride is taking its toll on me. Though rootless, jobless, and homeless, the structure of the ride keeps me from being completely free to drift, to disappear, become a ghost for a time. It is a challenging middle ground. Fortunately there are a few good people around to keep everything in focus.

This morning I stuck around in Toyama trying to find the purse. After tracing my steps it was obvious it wasn't going to show up, so I filed a police report in the hopes that someone might discover it before the trip ended. There wasn't much cash in it, but my pride was more than a little wounded by the loss.

My mood improved after three hours cycling in rain so hard it stung, dodging trucks, and being pummeled by the swaths of water as they passed by. Taking a back way into Uchinada I passed through lush marshland, and was treated to the sight of a Japanese heron taking off, neck stretched out into the sky. After the day's sprawling truck filled streets, it was a welcome moment of quiet grace. The street took me through rows of old houses, their wood dark from age and rain, before leading me to the Uchinada Welfare Center (a city owned onsen and inn).

After devouring half a pizza I slipped into the bath to soak away the cold, tension, and unhappiness. It worked. Going through my bags afterwards, I made a discovery. Wedged deep inside the lining of my front pannier was the purse. Laughing out loud, I showed it to Mary, who cheerfully chided me for not having searched better the previous night. But if I had found it then, I wouldn't have had the valuable (if not entirely pleasant) experience of the past twenty-four hours. I would have never filed a police report in Japan, cycled through the hardest rain I've ever felt, or seen a heron making the seamless transition from water to sky.

The day reminded me that things tend to work out, and that most experiences, good or bad, are valuable. It's amazing what food and a good hot bath will do.

Day 39: (41 km) Nozumi - Toyama
(09/06/06)

The first train of the day into Mozumi Station made me nostalgic for the days I used to take the early train out to Nagahama for work. It was a fun school, with small classes, crazy, energetic kids, and very little concern over actually teaching English. Nothing like starting the day with a slow train ride along the coast and arriving at a fun little school next to the sea. Worlds better than riding down a busy road to sit at my desk surrounded by overworked coworkers.

In other news, I lost the purse today. Realized it tonight after the Toyama dinner party. In spite of the good food, being around a bunch of people who already are close and have their own place in Japan made me feel much the same way I did at the Nagano party. Realizing that I'd lost the purse made me feel like a complete fuck up. Lost stove, lost purse, and lost connections with the people I care for fused together into a single feeling of loneliness. Wanted to cry on the way back to our home stay. Definitely at a low right now.

Day 38: (85 km) Matsumoto - Mozumi

(09/05/06)

Today we started with a hard, winding climb out of Matsumoto. Arriving at a tunnel, I heeded the No Bicycles sign and kept winding up the steep path to the summit. As I was nearing the top, Chay called asking if I had already gone through the tunnels. He and Mary were waiting outside the first one. Cycling back down the steep little road was a good rush, and the tunnel was great--wide shoulder, smooth road, well ventilated. Cruising through it, about two kilometers in, a service vehicle pulled up in front of me, the driver motioning me to stop.

After explaining that the tunnel was for cars only, he helped me load my bike into the back of his little service truck--no easy feat with a fully loaded cycle. After the tunnel, he dropped me off where Mary and Chay were waiting. The whole time I just hoped that I wouldn't have to go back and climb the summit yet again, even a ticket would be better than that. Lucky me, we were already past the summit and he showed us a gate that let out onto the regular road. Even better, he brought his little yapper of a dog out to play.

Back on the bikes, we zoomed into a cute little tourist town in Gunma-ken where we stopped for a mid-morning snack. On the way out we stopped at an old thatched roof onsen where Mary and I took pictures while Chay chatted up the busty attendant.

Then back up into the mountains along the Venus Line , another scenic highway leading us through the Japan Alps and into the middle of nowhere (which is exactly where the best views are). After a good ride up and over a few summits, and one of the fastest, most exhilarating downhills of the trip, we camped at a little used train station in the little used town of Mozumi, a mere forty kilometers outside of Toyama. It's a bit of a shame to head back into a city after the past few days of beautiful rural cycling. But we have an event tomorrow and Amy will be waiting for us, so into town we go.

Day 37: (107 km) Tateshina Skyline - Ogawara Toge - Matsumoto
(09/04/06)

Cold. So, so cold. Up at three AM to make it to the summit before sunrise. Cycling on an empty road in the dark was quite fun, if a little bumpy. After getting to the top, I got to use my tripod for the second time this trip for a good pre-breakfast photo shoot. Beautiful ride down the mountain into Matsumoto where we bought more gas and looked at the route. After some hesitation, we decided to stick to the mountains at the risk of getting into Toyama late.

(Ogawara Toge)

Good choice. We're rewarded with a scenic route passing through rows of corn, fields of greens, and orchards all around. The diversity of crops is impressive. We reached the Nihon Salad Road. Really, that's the official name.

We camped that night at the Matsumoto Michi no Eki. Happy and full of lentils, we once again curled up in Mary's tent for a warmer night's sleep

Day 36: (19 km) Saku - Mt. Tateshina
(09/03/06)

(Anri and Mrs. Hayashi)

We spent most of the day at our last Nagano event, the Saku International Festival. It was a good time for a while, with various foods and some interesting people to talk to. the festival, I met an ALT from St. Paul who raved about it. When I mentioned that I would be living on Grand Ave though, he hesitantly mentioned that it was a pretty "uptown" sort of area. While I'm still happy about being there, I am a bit worried about being stuck in yuppie hell. Still, it has to be better than the suburbs.

(Training tomorrow's warriors today)

Around four we finally made it out of the festival and headed out to the mountains. Amy had gone ahead to Toyama a couple days before and Ayako was having leg trouble so she wasn't up for climbing through a mountain pass. Down to just Mary, Chay, and me, we climbed to about 1800 meters and found a spot to camp in a little bus stop waiting area. The tent fit, but barely. The climb was tough, the first real challenge of the ride. By the time we stopped it was dark cold. I had to warm my hands just to be able to open my panniers. Sitting around the burner, warming ourselves with chili, it felt like real camping for the first time since I was alone in Hokkaido.

And it was cold. So, so cold. Even with a sleeping bag it would have been cold, but I had sent mine back with Emily nearly a month ago. We bundled up in our warmest clothes and crammed ourselves into Mary's two-man tent, but even with all our body heat and post-chili methane it was cold. Hell of a good night though.

Day 35: Saku
(09/02/06)

Another good night's sleep at the ramen shop. Kazuko made a good show of grumbling at Chay again. "Ah, Chay eats so slowly. Chay doesn't like fish. Here, have some more toast. Do you like tempura?" Hard to tell if she's actually put out or just likes giving him a hard time. There seems to be some real affection there.

Then it was off to the Usuda-Machi Garbage Center for some fun with trash. We met a group of fifth-graders there and got a tour of the facilities. The center only deals with vegetable waste and turns it into mulch in a forty-day process after collecting it from schools, retirement homes, and the like. Not a bad goal, but it would be great if the schools would do composting themselves without any of the unnecessary high tech machinery at the center.

(Maya - 3rd Grade & Mai - 5th Grade)

Afterwards we cycled to the Kirihara Shogakko to do some environmental games with the kids. Then came the picnic--tempura, homemade soba, veggies, even beer was all thrown our way. Safe to say it was the first time I'd ever had alcohol at an elementary school. Better than the food though, was playing with the kids. I was roped into a game of tag by Mai and Maya, the daughters of the soba-maker, and was later shown the forest hideout by Saki, a fun tomboyish girl with a fondness for horror films. On the way up into the forest a little first grade boy I hadn't even talked to before, walked up next to me and took my hand, leading me. It was a touching display of trust by this small kid towards a foreign stranger. At the end, Saki even came up to me and gave me a few good hugs. Without a doubt, this has been the best school visit of the trip.

After all the group photos, we met Anri Hayashi, one of Chay's former students and our home stay sister for the night. She was a good kid. Bright and inquisitive, she was the most polite, considerate, and mature Japanese kids I've met. Her parents are both Nisei, Japanese born in Brazil, and obviously cared about teaching her how to act around people (something many Japanese parents leave for the junior highs to teach). Dinner that night was full on comfort food centering around a cheesy potato gratin. Delicious. To cap the night, Chay and I demonstrated both our stubbornness and ineptitude at chess by dragging out an obvious stalemate for nearly an hour.

Day 34: Saku
(09/01/06)

So Saku really is a dump of a town. Thanks to numerous recent town mergers there is nothing but sprawl for miles. Like an oversized suburb, the shopping mall is the closest thing there is to a town center. After some wandering, I at least found a good bakery where I spent three hours munching on bread, downing coffee, and writing.

In the evening, I headed back to Usuda-machi (once a little town, now part of the Saku-beast) to meet Chay and some of his former coworkers for dinner and drinks. The restaurant was filled with people he knew, though most were at two separate parties that happened to be going on that night. I ended up chatting with a woman at one of them. We talked about family and I learned that her husband's mother died when he was young and his father died when he was seventeen. Since they met after that, she never knew his parents.

She also asked about my goal of being a professional writer and photographer, making the good point that "well, you're only twenty seven. Even if it takes you ten years to get there, you'll still be young." Good perspective to have. Hopefully I can keep that in mind and stop spinning my wheels over distractions and the thought that I should be doing something more practical and easily achievable. I've certainly wasted enough time and energy over paths that seem logical but aren't right for me.

Day 33: (65 km) Tateshina - Ueda - Saku
(08/31/06)

Looks like I lost the camp stoves. Felt like a bit of a fool for sure. A random black bag with beat up camping burners doesn't seem like the kind of thing one would steal after all. Mary and I went back to Ueda in a failed attempt to recover them--they were nowhere to be found.

The three hour evening ride from Ueda to Saku with Mary was fun though. She's a great riding partner--interesting person, fun, doesn't complain, keeps a good pace, and is happy to make silly stops. The silly stop of the evening was at an AEON shopping center--a real, indoor mall, rare in Japan--for some print club action (what happens when photo booths are taken to the next level and marketed towards teenage J-girls). Wacky photos in hand, we hopped back on the bikes and made our way to meet Chay and Ayako at Daigaku Ramen.

We had no idea what a treat we were in store for. Our host for the night was Kazuko, Chay's sixty something J-mom and owner of Daigaku Ramen. By the time we arrived, she was drunk and had been berating Chay in a coarse but frustratingly loving way for the past two hours. Our arrival only intensified things.

"Chay! Your friends are late! Why are they so late?"
"Because they ha--"
"They shouldn't be so late you know."
Then turning to us, "do you like the miso?"
"Yes, it's very g--"
"Chay! Miso!" handing him the empty dish.

The fun went on for a good hour and Mary and I loved every minute of it.

Day 32: (25 km) Ueda - Tateshina
(08/30/06)

Today I met a guy writing a children's book about an elephant ninja. I've taken some liberties, but his description went something like this:

Well, right now I'm working on a book. It's about an elephant. But it wants to be a ninja. You see, Elephants are big and clumsy, the opposite of a stealthy ninja. But this elephant wants to learn to be a ninja. All of his friends laugh at him, but he still goes off into the mountains to learn. He finds a ninja village and they all think he's crazy--I mean, how can an elephant be a ninja?--but they think, what the heck, and give him chores to do even they won't train him. But he watches them everyday and in the end, he learns ninjitsu and finally becomes an elephant ninja. So it's about pursuing your dreams. If an elephant can become a ninja, you can do anything.

Damn straight you can.

* * * * *

During our two days in Ueda we visited three of the more interesting high schools I've been to in Japan. For one, none of the schools had a uniform. The students were also much more inclined to express themselves than at other high schools I've been to. I doubt that there is any real correlation between freedom of dress in school and students' willingness to express themselves, but I think that the attitude of administrators that allows for the one may foster the other.

Cycling to Tateshina, we passed through a small historic street that reminded me of Uchiko in Ehime, and got directions from a fifty-something guy complete with workout suit, wife-beater and gold chains. Once there we met our host, the creator of the little elephant who could. We met some middle school teachers for dinner at an izakaya and were invited to visit their school the next day.

Day 31 Addendum
(08/29/06)

Anners left Japan today. She had told me the date, but I didn't realize it was happening so soon. This transient wandering makes dates flow together, slip around. I don't even know what day of the week it is anymore, Monday is a s good as Saturday. She's been one of my closest friends and such a defining part of my experience here, that it's strange to imagine Japan without her. I haven't processed the feeling yet, but something is definitely off.

Day 31: Ueda
(08/29/06)

In Ueda the five of us stayed with Mike and Patti, one of the more interesting couples I've met. Both are into gardening and have a backyard garden as well as a plot elsewhere in town. Patti studied horticulture and worked at a big park in Vancouver for five years, traveling during the off season. Mike has been all over the place. For two years, he tended to the garden at an organic farm in Maine in exchange for rent. Staying with them, I was struck by their obvious love of growing things--Mike excitedly described an unexpected strain of Indian corn that had sprung up in the garden, their shelf was full of homemade pickles, the counter covered with veggies from their garden.

They met while traveling around Latin America, Venezuela I think. After meeting, they hit it off, cancelled their tickets home, and have been together ever since. Now they are looking forward to their first baby and plan to move to British Columbia in August. They have land east of the mountains there and eventually want to build a house and settle down there. Their love for and connection to each other is nearly tangible. Their life seemed adventurous yet simple and calm. It made me think about the kind of home life that I want. One could certainly do worse than to emulate theirs. In a more immediate sense, it also helped me realize how rewarding it would be to grow some of my own food. When I get to St. Paul, I will have to find somewhere to play at gardening a bit.

Day 30: (25 km) Chikuma - Ueda
(08/28/06)

(Me, Ayako, Kazuo, and Mary in Ueda)

James was an excellent host, prepared for us but very relaxed. His place was clean, he had extra bedding, and even went to the store for food and drinks before we arrived. He was fun to hang out with, but it was clear that had we been exhausted and gone straight to bed it would have been fine. Unlike many of the Japanese home stays there was no pressure to stay up and entertain. Hosting lessons learned:

1. Have a clean, comfortable, well kept place
2. Stock the fridge and pantry in preparation for your guests--always have a few food and drink options even if you aren't expecting anyone
3. lay out some snacks without asking, then offer other options as well
4. Be friendly and sociable without putting pressure on your guests to entertain you
5. Have entertainment ready just in case (hurrah for Google Videos!)
6. Have extra bedding on hand
7. Always stock simple breakfast food--even toast does the trick
8. Enjoy the experience and expect only good karma in return

This all seems obvious, but is rarely the case that anyone does all of these. I certainly haven't lived up to them all.

Day 29 Continued
(08/27/06)

Cycling along a small riverside path, visiting Ganshoin-ji, and wandering the Hokusai Museum would make for an excellent, full day on their own. But in our case, this all happened before lunch.

After the museum it was time for Chay and I to fumble through our presentation in rough but intelligible Japanese. It was a challenging question and answer session thanks to the language barrier and some questions about hydroponics, vegetarianism, and resource use. Fortunately the crowd was forgiving and friendly. At lunch, I ended up sitting at a table with the mayor and the head of an Obuse cycling promotion group. The town is trying to bill itself as a cycle friendly city, thus the big reception for BEE. The spread of food was incredible--they were expecting ten people, but half the team had split off a day early to start the Tokyo leg of the trip. Highlights of the lunch were the oyaki--steamed veggie filled dumplings, a local specialty--and a pizzaesque creation with a mesh of shredded eggplant instead of a crust on the bottom. Nearly everything was made from locally grown vegetables. The woman in charge of the feast kept prodding us to eat more then gave us a pile of oyaki to take with us.

Before heading off to Chikuma, our guides slipped back to the Hokusai Museum area with us and treated everyone to Chestnut Soft cream, one of the better flavors thus far.

A bit more river riding then we rolled into Chikuma, just a few minutes early apparently. As we pulled into the community center, we were greeted then promptly told to go back over the bridge and come in again since the NHK cameraman wasn't ready yet. We obligingly repeated our entrance, this time to a round of applause and a big TV camera. Nothing like a staged entrance to contrast with rolling into Obuse town that morning. Silly but fun.

Then it was time to present again, and feast on handmade udon, tempura, and a host of other tasty treats. Bellies full, we split up and went to our home stays for the night. Chay and I to chill out in James's supremely comfortable apartment, and the girls to Mary's house for slumber party fun.

Day 29: (40 km) Nagano - Obuse - Chikuma
(08/27/06)


Back on the bikes at last. This morning we met Kanai Kazuyoshi, our guide, and headed off to Obuse town along a pleasant river cycling path. Coming over a rise into town, we were met by two photographers, complete with cycle jerseys and bike shorts, crouching in the bushes, snapping away at us. Passing them, we pulled into the michi no eki/highway museum to a line of people applauding us and a paper banner welcoming us to Obuse Town. All this for just forty kilometers.

Over the next two hours, the fine folk of Obuse took us on a relaxed tour of the town, passing through small orchards of apples, pears, and chestnuts on our way to Ganshouin-ji, a Soto Zen temple that houses a 21 tatami mat sized painting by Hokusai. The eighty something priest came out to explain the painting, but I was more impressed by his youth and vitality. How much, I wonder, is from a lifetime of practicing zen?

After the temple, we were escorted to the Hokusai Museum. Best known for his Thirty Six Views of Mt Fuji, Hokusai is probably the most well known Japanese artist, both here and in the west. Though he spent much of his life near Tokyo, Hokusai moved to Obuse at the age of 85 to further his work. It was a good, small museum, with a very personal feel that reminded me a bit of the Mucha Museum in Prague.

Being there brought back memories of visiting museums with E, and how strange it is to be in one without her. In Europe, it was something we would do together--the Mucha Museum, Museum of City History, Kunsthistorich Museum in Austria, the Cloth Market in Krakow. Experiencing art with someone you love is one of the most intimate ways to connect to each other. Every museum we visited in Europe was fascinating and vibrant because of the shared experience. I also thought about the summer after Prague, how hard it was to be at the Art Institute in Chicago knowing that something was going horribly wrong with our relationship. Even the most impressive works seemed unimportant, lifeless. Since we got back together we have visited a number of exhibits, but have only experienced that same feeling of intimacy at a few of them. It's taken me nearly three years to open myself up enough to share that connection again. Something tells me I'm ready to.

Day 28: (Rest) Nagano
(08/26/06)

Sometimes it's a little odd being part of this wandering band of Gypsies. We meet any number of strange, interesting people, only to pass through their lives in under a day. We accept the hospitality of others, knowing that it will never be paid back directly, that the best we can do is be hospitable to and future strays and travelers we meet.

Tonight we had a presentation at a Nagano JET welcome party. While it went well, and we even raised some funds from the event, it was strange being a nomad in a setting filled with people reaching out to make connections with each other. After a few hours, I found myself wandering Nagano to get away from it all. Nothing accentuates the feeling of isolation like being in a room full of people connecting to each other. And nothing sooths it as much as finding someone else to be isolated with. Coming back to the bar, I ran into Amy and we whiled away the time eating tofu on the curb outside. Two little Gypsies forced outside by all the light, noise, gaiety, and camaraderie.

The night ended with our band of five sitting on the floor of the shopping arcade, bonding over cheap chocolates. We may be a wandering band, but at least we have each other to share the experience with

Day 27: (Rest) Nagano
(08/25/06)

Today was our first elementary school visit. Rolling into Midorigaoka Shogakko, we were immediately swarmed by little ones. Our lessons go well, particularly since one of our games involves a lot of kids falling all over each other. Hours of amusement.

At lunch, a cute little first grade boy approaches me with his bug case and asked if I wanted to look for grasshoppers with him. We wandered the grounds and gardens, kicking bushes to flush them out. We saw two, but they got away. At the end of the day, after all our classes are over, he approached me again and gave me a five-legged grasshopper from his case, telling me that I could keep it safe in my pannier. Fearing that I would crush it, I slipped it back into the bushes.

"When are you coming back next?" he kept asking me. It was hard to say that I wasn't. He gave me the biggest little hug he could muster before we headed off. Riding out of the school, I looked back to see tears in his eyes. Damn. Forget the grasshopper, I want the kid (cool camo shirt on the left).

Day 26: (Rest Day) Nagano
(08/24/06)

Woke up early and slipped off to an internet café where I encountered a sleepy-eyed Pirori, proclaiming "I love civilization!" So do I, but I'm not sure that sleeping at an internet café would bring out that sentiment in me. Still, the shower is nice. With soap, shampoo, and shaving cream included, it's better stocked than most onsen.

The rest of the morning is taken up with errands--coin laundry, bike shop, bakery. Having fresh clothes for the first time in two weeks felt good. Having a straight tire felt even better. For lunch I met up with most of the group at a decent Indian restaurant. Good cheer spreads as we stuff ourselves with all-you-can-eat veggie curry and nan.

All too soon we have to run off to Midorigaoka Shogakko (elementary school) for a veggie dinner. The counters are low, not just Japanese low, not just elementary-school low, but Japanese elementary-school low. Made for munchkins. Washing dishes after dinner made me feel like a little old farmer, hunchbacked from years of rice planting.


After dinner, I head back to the Mitsui's, my hosts for the night, chatting with the oldest son--one of the more interesting junior high students I've met. After meeting the rest of the family and making nice with the little yapper of a dog, Mr. Mitsui, the two boys and I head off to a beautiful little onsen in the hills. There are only two baths--one indoor and one out-- the whole onsen is made of polished wood, the kind that says relax, stay a while, get cozy and naked with your hosts for the night.



Back at the Mitsui residence, we broke out the sparklers for some nighttime fun. The boys taught me how to draw on the asphalt with them, though I was just as happy to twirl the little flaming rods around and take a few photos. Eventually, it was time for bed and I slept on a futon in the boys' room. There was something very touching about this family who would let a complete stranger into their home and then give him a futon next to their sons' bunk beds. No dreams tonight, just a beautiful, restful slumber.

Day 25: (27 km) Shinano - Nagano
(08/23/06)

Strange dreams last night. I forgot one of them immediately, but the other two I managed to commit to paper before they escaped my head. The first was more of a half dream; I was sleeping in the cabin and a Japanese ghost--an old woman with long white hair and a little humanoid demon coming out of her head--was pulling at my head, sucking the energy out of me. It makes me wonder if I wasn't facing north, and if there's some truth to the Japanese superstition that from the North come ghosts. Back in my old Matsuyama apartment, I always had strange dreams when I would sleep with my head to the north. Emily always preferred sleeping that way. It helped her dream I think. I was always happier with a good, hard dreamless sleep.



After that I had a dream about being back at the school I used to teach at. We were supposed to do a presentation about the ride and couldn't pull it together. By itself, it was a pretty innocuous dream, but this was the third bad dream in a row set at my old school. I assume my subconscious is trying to purge itself of a seemingly cushy job that sucked more out of me than I realized.



Fresh air and the short, steep downhill into Nagano helped dispel the oily film of the night's dreams. On the way down, I saw my first ten-percent incline sign before stopping to see Nagano's famous Zenkouji Temple. The rest of the day was spent wandering the city and writing to keep the nasty feeling from this morning at bay.



In the evening, I headed back to meet the others for some urban camping at a park near Zenkouji temple. Though I never discovered the reason, there was a festival on at the temple and in a nearby neighborhood. After lugging around the extra weight for twenty-five days, I finally got to put my tripod to use.

Day 24: (25 km) Joetsu - Shinano
(08/22/06)

After a light couple hours of riding, Mary and I pulled into the Shinano michi no eki. Grabbing a bottle of local Shinano Ale and some oyaki (a veggie filled bread dumpling--one of Nagano's many specialties) we waited for the rest of the team to arrive and discover Shinano's many tasty treats for themselves.

As we were finishing our beer the sky opened up and down came the rain. A real downpour, the kind that would have soaked us through in minutes if we had not been happily sitting under the awning of the rest stop. The timing could not have been better. Safely out of the rain, we polished off another ale, some fresh baked rolls, more oyaki, and chocolate filled with dried blueberries. The rain lasted into the afternoon and we were happy to be just where we were.

Emily called and told me about law school orientation, while Chay made friends and talked religion and middle east politics with a Christian Jew we met at the stop. Unfortunately he left his trailer-suitcase out in the rain. It was a bit less waterproof than he thought, but we managed to dry out most of the map books eventually.

That evening, we found shelter at a shoddy old cabin camp ground near a lake. The cabins left something to be desired, but sitting down by the lake watching the light recede on the water made for a good night.

Day 20 - 23: (75 km) Ryoetsu - Ogi - Joetsu

(08/18/06 - 08/21/06)

Japan has its fair share of both small hippie dance-barefoot-on the-beach type festivals and mammoth big-name rock festivals like Fuji Rock nad Summer Sonic. The former are amateurish but welcoming, the latter polished but impersonal, and both lose their charm rather quickly. The Kodo Earth Celebration, however, merged the warmth of a small amateur festival with world-class music.

(A cyclist with style)

Every year, the Kodo drummers host a three day concert and festival on their home island of Sado. Throughout the day, there are a number of small events--drumming and dance workshops, smaller preformances, and a festival harbor market. But come evening, all of that clears out as people line up in front of Shiroyama Park, waiting to claim a spot near the stage. For three nights, visitors are treated to some of the best mucic Japan has to offer--the Kodo drummers and their annual special guest.

(Harbor Market Booth)

Ever since hearing about the Earth Celebration, I was convinced that it had to be the best musical experience in Japan. Three years ago, I missed the chance to see Kodo play with Fanfare Ciocarlia, one of the most charming and energetic bands I've ever seen. Since then, the festival had been in the back of my head as something I should do before leaving Japan. If it weren't for the ride, though, I probably would never have made it there.

(Yuske, the waramono--straw crafts-artist)

We were lucky enough to have a booth at the harbor market to fundraise, radiate environmental goodness, and chill. With an abundance of good veggie food options, cheap microbrew, old friends, and interesting people, the market was reason enough to make the trip out. The relaxation reached its peak on Sunday when Amy and I manned the booth, snacking for six hours straight. It wasn't just a hard chill, it was the hardest chill. We oozed ralaxation.

As good as the chilling was though, the concerts were better. After three years stuck in a provincial city where people think department stores equal haute coutoure, any good music and preformance is a treat. Seeing the most highly regarded taiko drumming group in Japan was spectacular. Add to that Tomango, an innovative jazz/urban tap group, and it was one of the best preformances I've seen in or out of Japan.

(Chill)