First snow of the winter today.

Found an abandoned band-aid in the bathroom at work. This is one of the least icky things that have surfaced there, no pun intended.

Saw this guy on the treadmill yesterday wearing what appeared to be Vans.

Another fellow was running in slipper-socks. Yikes, you could see his knees absorbing the shock.

This might be my lamest post to date...many apologies

Speaking of Pooh…

What Winnie the Pooh character do you find yourself most closely associating with? I am sure such a rhetorical question has you scrambling and keeps you up nights. But, since you have free time (evidenced by your reading of this Blog) please read on…

Actually I have shown this movie, Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree in class a few times. And after watching students see the “honey tree” episode a half dozen times, it has provoked several thoughts.

The short version is that my character changes depending on where I am. At work I tend to be Eeyore, moping about as I am assaulted by 15 year olds acting maybe 1/3 that age. And occasionally, my tail does often fall off, usually between 4^th period and lunch.

On the train I tend to be either owl, reading away and get irked by the simpletons who seem to enjoy looking at me, rather than at their fellow commuters. I do admit that I am quite tall, quite pale, and therefore, one must assume, worthy of a good, lengthy stare. I mean, just so different. The thing here is, I feel like the Japanese tend to look very much alike. Often I see students (wearing the essentially national black quasi-militaristic uniform) who I think belong to my school, but in fact, they are just not.

When I get up late or have to scramble between train companies, then I am basically feeling akin to piglet. He is one nervous fellow. For reasons my friends and I have yet to discern, this nervousness has shaped my experience and marred several days at school recently. Come payday and the looming lengthy vacations I am privy to, temporarily the flood of relief is overwhelming. And piglet, being such a runty fellow, is always nervous, not because he is afraid of owl turning on him and talons, gleaming making short work of his rodenty torso; but because he has shit to do.

And on those occasions when I find I need to lift my spirits, then I shadow the sweets binge and get my rounded, fingerless paws in some honey. More accurately, I tear into some individually-wrapped goodness known as the 89 yen chocolate bars series, some of which are called Look or, an across the board favorite, Dars.

The worlds...

I will visit the world's oldest wooden building. So far I have enjoyed the World's longest bench (Kanazawa) and more recently, the World's Largest Frypan, located in Long Beach, Washington.

I am not sure of distinction, but the Siem Reap airport has got to have a leg in for World's smallest airport terminal.

And the world's largest people must be Americans.

And the world's farthest-reaching coffee chain has to be Starbucks.

I would like, however to someday see*
* the world's oldest vomit, the world's angriest couple and the world's most polluted city, if not just to mock, and congradulate myself for being, ultimately, superior to everyone else.

Family Ties...

As seen on today's midterm high school English tests in Japan...

Your brother's wife is your....(aunt)
Your brother's wife is your...(sister)
Your brother's wife is your... (uncle)
Your mom's mom is your... (uncle)
Your brother's wife is your...(uncle)
Your brother's wife is your...(Brother in law)
Your older sister's son is your... (uncle)
Your older sister's son is your....(sister)
Your aunt's daughter is your...(wife)
Your aunt's daughter is your....(mother)
Your brother's wife is your...(sister-wife)
And finally...
Your older sister's son is your...(son)

Virgin Megastore in Shinsaibashi, Osaka has closed its doors. Probably you'd expect a shameless, punny joke about virgins from me but no. Ain't gonna happen. Ok, just one. There must be a shortage of Virgins in Osaka. That's just Virgin economics. Having a Virgin isn't cool anymore. Okay, I need some Virgin joke material. But that Virgin well has been tapped.

I saw again, the no-neck man. Use your imagination, though you needn't. So can a no-neck man be called a rubberneck when he drives (can he drive?) by a car accident on the Interstate, brakes instinctively to gawk at the carnage?

I at at a famous Shanghai restaurant. But I admit that 1, it wasn't actually in Shangahi, but in a stuffy, in need of fresh air, in an Osaka basement. And 2, I was just there to eat dessert. Frozen and atomically tart frozen red currant berries adorned a petite slice of tart. Bubble tea, a serious choking hazzard for the epiglotically-challenged was quite refreshing. Taiwan bubble tea, or pearl tea is favored by yours truly and they load it up with tapioca and sugar. I had this several times last November, when I snuck down to Taipei on holiday from my "job." like a big gulp, yet chunky. ..

Nachos, as they were described on the menu, were, as of Wednesday morning, wreaking serious havoc on my digestive system. Add said to a rainbow of beer, coctails and fatigue and you have rumbling and well, the squirts. I hope you were not just eating lunch when you read this posting. My insincere apologies. But they were enjoyed at the Shanghai Tunnel, in no way related to the above topic, just a coincidence.

I was in a 7-11 Late on Monday night, maybe 11.30p.m. in Portland, my old stompin grounds. I bought some lotto tickets and a police man standing behind the clerk watched the transaction, watched me and then didn't...do anything abnormal. But what could've happened? Anything, just anything.

Elk: saw a big-racked bull elk and two cows and a yearling inspecting the new beach houses that are reducing the said mammal's habitat. And the houses arent that close to the shore, nor do they have an ocean view. The developments being built in North county are errily similar to Sunriver, or the mid-90's developments that were build around my childhood berg of Gresham.

There are some chipmunks building a nest in our planter box. These rascals are fun to watch, as their shrill barks and jittery movements remind me of those special ed kids at school, helmets, toothguards and all those other precautionary wear.

Off to the cranberry festival in Ilwaco, WA. Ilwaco...it's just fun to say. Ilwaco. And en route we can cross the Astoria bridge, which used to be a toll bridge but it is free now. Japan highway corporation, here is an accounting lesson for you.

Ate crab last night. To crack and clean a crab is a lot of work, but crab at the beach is sort of one of those must-do's.

Auctions: A truly American event. I love how they speak in tones. Share YOUR auction stories with the world at

Antiques: what is junk

Elderly care centers

Food, Glorious Food

Hospitals

Air Canada Economy Class Cuisine

Local artistic Talent

Tim Horton's

And more...

Blog-a-licous Blogs for your Monday:



http://nooit-bru.blogspot.com/

http://naninaninani.blogspot.com/

http://eyeswideapart.blogspot.com/

And then, there were three...blogs for you to enjoy!

The planned New Year's holiday to Myanmar, aka Burma, has generated some controversey.

Several UK friends expressed their moral outrage that I support a country that oppresses its people. Lonely Planet has bannered across its own guidebook: "Should You Go? See Inside For Details."

My answer is an unwavering yes.

If one wants to wave the moral finger of justice, and becry tourism that supports, through tourist hard currency, oppression, Naturally the following places also should be avoided:

Laos: oppression of Hmong
United States: See above (actually set them up to rebel, then left them to fend for themselves)
Iraq: See above
Cambodia: Pol Pot's followers have never been put on trial for war crimes

And you see, this issue developes into a painful, a downward spiral aflame in Don'ts...

rather than live my life according to what Ned calls the "Can't People," we are nonetheless headed to what appears to be a diverse, beautiful nation seeped in southeast asian and buddhist history.

If the situation is so dire, then aren't I a better man for having seen it with my own eyes.

Maybe our UK friends have a guilt complex surrounding this former colony turned military junta.

I'll be careful to buy local, avoid handing the government too many clams directly.

Should I go? most certainly.

interestinly enough, Lonely Planet did not suggest avoiding a visit to:

Tibet, home of cultural and identity rape by the Chinese central government.

Pakistan, home to honor killings, honor-rooted gang rape and well, most of the Taliban brass.

Cuba, where US pride amongst geriatric senators disallows a nation to modernize and provide better economic options for its people. (blame Castro a bit, here too).

North Korea, where the radio dial is welded to Radio Pyongyang, voice of the "people."

My curiosity to visit the Burmese highlands was cemented by the wonderfully written The Piano Tuner.

Two weeks in the heart of Burma...stay tuned.

Some fun facts about MY working career:

Once, I got to mix napalm with Jay Schue. Probably that isn’t legal. But that campfire lit pretty well despite the rain soaked wood! Also, I got to watch Terry Clark getting electroshock therapy (self-induced) in his easy chair. Yikes.

At Izzy’s I got fired when I took a $4 tip after a waitress was going to stiff me after I had bussed an entire banquet room full of leftover Izzy flotsam and jetsam. Then, being a tad tired of that happening I called her a bitch. The assistant manager, fully afraid of the she-devil in question, fired me for doing what anyone would do.

At Taco Bell I often was made to take lunch at the very beginning of my shift. I also had to work for a guy who didn’t like college students. And Andy Yost came to taco bell a lot. My pride suffered tremendously.

In Korea I taught kindergarten kids who responded better to me swinging them around in centrifuge style. That was fun having a captive audience. Fun, I say until that one kid’s arm popped painfully out of its socket. And sure enough I, the white devil, was blamed.

Today at Mister Donut, I tried to get out of a second bag, coupons, tape and various other packaging. The donutress wasn’t having that though and glared at me as her spool o’ potential garbage went untouched.

In Asia, they give you a bag for a pack of gum. Japanese parcels actually outsize American ones, until you unwrap it. And unwrap it again, cut the ribbon and finally unwrap the cellophane bubble in which your object rests afloat cushiony sea of Styrofoam peanuts.

I have been spending some time recently getting a bit plump.

So, the question is now, of course who to blame.

Could it be the folks genetically and chemicallly manipulating the tasties in order to make me crave it nightly?

Missed the chance to attend my 10th High School Reunion. It was held at the Lloyd Center Double Tree on August 6. What a historically loaded day, at least here in Japon.

And there is a big political shake-up/election planned on September 11th.

I am conteplating the meaning of that. I left the US almost 4 years ago to sow the oats of the travel bug with which I have been infected. All in all tons of fun. There is something stuck under my f key.

This will make it difficult to tpye about my 'avorite scandanavian country, 'inland. I will no longer be able to insult people by calling them 'ucker. And an 'ish-based diet that I began must cease.

Must scurry away to plot something against someone for something they might have done to me...

No whereabouts on those keys yet.

My Husky friend and confidant needs something to do whilst being under-utilized at work. Send suggestions to...

White Girl,
Hyogo Prefecture
Amagasaki High School
Fiefdom of Japan
East Asia

Just enjoyed Hummus and carrot sticks.

Must get on publishing my springboard to stardom.

Nayr

Several keys have been removed from the keyboard here at the office. Odd, yes. Inconvienent, no. Oh, those keyboards..so conniving!

Notes on My Adventure in July 2005

The home that seems less and less like home. The tourists are scary, they are scary in the eyes of my parents, who have accustomed to the slower pace of typical coastal folk. City people tend to be more intense, more picky and louder than their rural-residing counterparts. What I have learned is this: On the coast, take your time, expect facilities to be broken, slow or lagging in the latest technology.

My pet Aussie Shepherd, Blue, is developing tendencies that make him moonlight as Merlin on walks. He thoroughly enjoys peeing on fences, sniffing unmentionables and humping unsuspecting pedestrian limbs. All in all he is a normal, affectionate 2 year old canine.

Tillamook head is great but luxury condos at the end are a spoiler. The 10.5 miles in 4 hours has got to be a personal record. Impending darkness in a deserted forest is a superb motivator. So is Odwalla’s Blackberry Fruit Shake.

Highlights included the sunsets near Indian Beach, seeing Justin’s wedding site again and the dark, creepy forested segments. The spruce trees make for a nice, dark cool environment.

Tillamook Rock lighthouse is hard to photograph with my lens arsenal. Once a lighthouse warning ships of impending basaltic treachery, it is now a mausoleum. The number of people whose remains are entombed within Terrible Tilly has exceeded its operations permit. A word to the bereaved: your bones aren’t around here anymore.

Seaside’s A and W turned Muchos Gracias makes a decent, if yet greasy enchilada. The combo dinner was way too plentiful. Much to my surprise there was a chile relleno being held captive under my burrito. This chain is run by and staffed by 100% Mexican chefs and waitresses, giving them a good chance at a steady, safe employment, rather than in the farm industry, where the lettuce barons chotto exploit them.

The Pelican Pub and Brewery, nestled in the nook of sandy Cape Kiwanda, has finally sold out to the yuppie crowd and is way, way overpriced. Two dinner were 60 bucks. Cape Kiwanda is still about half scoured away and no resort yet. Dining with a former barmaid surprisingly netted no discount. Progress? I’d just assume eat a toe jam and beetle sandwich rather than see developers destroy yet another pristine environment…

Vancouver Weekend

Tourists on a budget rejoice and feast upon 93 Canadian cent pizza slices; Vancouver’s ghetto lunch on the run. However no word on how it tastes. British Columbia’s alternative to the meatier 99 cent Big Mac. I love Canadian coins and bills. So many queens, so many colors. No secret Masonic eye or any of the God stuff that is on the dollar. Plus, they even sport my favorite animals, the beaver and the loon.

The Templeton; special folks and good grilled cheese sandwiches, all in a retro 1950’s style diner complete with hoards of Gay Vancouverites. Recommended. They also sport a soda fountain that a little bird told me is luscious. But I’m on a diet so I wouldn’t eat such slag. The processed sugar industry I feel, is wholeheartedly to blame for this.

Bus stop at Robson. Leaning on the granite edifice of Sears and Roebuck, a disenfranchised man sings his songs, rattles his change cup and watches a global sprinkling of humanity await their electric, non-foul exhaust-emitting bus’s arrival. The music was a bit of a cross between Willy Nelson, Merle Haggard and Axl Rose.

Squamish climbing. Ascending the apron, an off-vertical glacial polished hillside circumvented by vertical cracks. Without them the hill might need bolts. Trees along the route make small ledges that are a feature of climbs near and on the Chief. Got my shoe stuck in cat crack, my first foray into granite climbing. BC power lines provide and interesting background to the industrial, yet green Squamish region.

I noticed a lot of New Zealanders in Vancouver. All are nice and pleasant. Kiwi girls are among the nicest. Their men have the tendency to be mean drunks.

Oregon: The Beaver State

Costco families converge in Warrenton, Oregon. Mix of people: definite. Locals easily spotted: you bet your buns. Mangoes: stringy yet refreshingly sweet. Buying in bulk? For the homeowner, probably an excessive buying strategy. I noticed again how wasteful and excessive dining out in America is. Luckily the concept of a light meal is gaining ground. In every store, town and airport, however obese (and I mean like over 100 pounds overweight) easily spotted. I often pine for a day where Costco goes bezerk and makes its suppliers take back all that excessive packaging. After reading Garbage land: On the secret trail of trash, I feel as if people are truly oblivious creatures when it comes to limiting our ecological footprint…

At Costco I spied Fat Boy Ice Cream Sandwiches. Knee braces and a do-it-yourself stomach stapling kit now included. Bravo for a company not trying to pretty up its image. Brutal partially hydrogenated soybean oil-coated honest marketing.

July 20, 2005. Venue: Saddle Mountain State Park. Incident: two folks who didn’t take kindly to my comments on the local timber industry. Fat mom with idiot son. Likely driving Ford 350 XT with duellies. Not environmentally progressive as it turns out. Lesson learned: keep politics out of casual conversations to avoid bubbles bursting and heads exploding at challenges to the status quo. Isn’t it sad that a free exchange of ideas, a pillar of democracy has begun to be replaced by gravitation toward secularism. Did Jesus invent the chainsaw in his free time? Would he advocate general ignorance of modern, cost-effective alternative forestry?

Atop Saddle Mountain Sis and I met a Scottish photographer at the summit of the stately 3200 foot peak. Nepalese might call that more of a hill. What adventure led a Scot to reside in Portland? I am curious…

My sister, thoroughly in the grasp of what I like to call the University Student trance, has developed what you might call a bit of flab around her midriff. As do I. She still eats like a pre-teen, despite have recently joined the ranks of full-fledged adulthood. I’m talking about things like neon fruit cut-outs, diet Oreos. Hiking for the day with me she experienced her first sugar burn-out. Reduced-calorie Oreos. Snack-food of champions.

Lots of God loves America, etc ribbons seen on cards and hindquarters. All this renewed patriotism certainly reminds me of that old song, Tie a Yellow Ribbon, about a prisoner pining for his freedom and his former partner. At 99 cents they are a cheap way to act and believe as Fox news dictates. Kind of a political spin-off of the WWJD thing. I’ll tell you one thing, you can’t blame Jesus for the Crusades, Iraq or any other folly perpetuated by the Church. I am beginning to sound chotto anti, aren’t I?

Land…mighty land stretching across the horizon. Few high-tension lines souring mountain vistas. For that we have massive altmodish clear cuts. Greenery: simply everywhere. It is really not a fair comparison. There is so much real estate in the US that just remains idle, fallow, underutilized and staggeringly cheap whence compared with urban Japan, where land is sold in units as small as a half meter square. Just look at my mother in law’s garden plot as an example. She bought the remaining half-meter from the landlady for a premium. Though quite useful land and very fertile once the concrete cap was removed, it boast what the father in law jests must certainly be Kobe’s most expensive daikon (long, tubular and intimidating radish).

LAX Walkabout:

The situation is that in LAX no one likes their job, at least no one I have encountered. I have used the airport here just three times, either inbound our en route to that long, facially taxing 11.5 hour leg from Osaka’s KIX. I had a few hours to kill and since LAX is bisected by California’s famed Highway 1, a walkabout seemed in order.

A decent taco salad from Carl’s Jr and an admonishment from a homeless window washer to not be afraid of the African American race later, I had seen enough. Being a car culture, LA takes spread out to the extreme. I enjoyed the walk, and the bustling commerce surrounding the terminals themselves. The inter-terminal shuttle driver, miffed tourists in tote, was talking on her cell to coordinate a desperate apartment search. A friendly man outside gave good advice, as long as I supported his ecumenical leanings. Bring it on, I say.

Tourists stopped ME and asked for directions. Do I look Californian? I always seem to notice that in LA there is a contacts and no glasses rule. My wardrobe nixes that notion but admittedly being asked for directions gives people two options. First, a great chance to send the weary and disoriented astray. On the happy end, It is prime time to share the knowledge banging around my head like small, misplaced pebbles.

Peter Jennings died. He should have followed Tom Brokaw’s example and stayed healthy by rock climbing frequently. I respect a newscast that likes the nature, didn’t smoke and works for a network that hasn’t been touched by anything, including an angel. Feedback welcome to ryaninjapan76@yahoo.com, at your leisure.

###

Notes on My Adventure in July 2005

The home that seems less and less like home. The tourists are scary, they are scary in the eyes of my parents, who have accustomed to the slower pace of typical coastal folk. City people tend to be more intense, more picky and louder than their rural-residing counterparts. What I have learned is this: On the coast, take your time, expect facilities to be broken, slow or lagging in the latest technology.

My pet Aussie Shepherd, Blue, is developing tendencies that make him moonlight as Merlin on walks. He thoroughly enjoys peeing on fences, sniffing unmentionables and humping unsuspecting pedestrian limbs. All in all he is a normal, affectionate 2 year old canine.

Tillamook head is great but luxury condos at the end are a spoiler. The 10.5 miles in 4 hours has got to be a personal record. Impending darkness in a deserted forest is a superb motivator. So is Odwalla’s Blackberry Fruit Shake.

Highlights included the sunsets near Indian Beach, seeing Justin’s wedding site again and the dark, creepy forested segments. The spruce trees make for a nice, dark cool environment.

Tillamook Rock lighthouse is hard to photograph with my lens arsenal. Once a lighthouse warning ships of impending basaltic treachery, it is now a mausoleum. The number of people whose remains are entombed within Terrible Tilly has exceeded its operations permit. A word to the bereaved: your bones aren’t around here anymore.

Seaside’s A and W turned Muchos Gracias makes a decent, if yet greasy enchilada. The combo dinner was way too plentiful. Much to my surprise there was a chile relleno being held captive under my burrito. This chain is run by and staffed by 100% Mexican chefs and waitresses, giving them a good chance at a steady, safe employment, rather than in the farm industry, where the lettuce barons chotto exploit them.

The Pelican Pub and Brewery, nestled in the nook of sandy Cape Kiwanda, has finally sold out to the yuppie crowd and is way, way overpriced. Two dinner were 60 bucks. Cape Kiwanda is still about half scoured away and no resort yet. Dining with a former barmaid surprisingly netted no discount. Progress? I’d just assume eat a toe jam and beetle sandwich rather than see developers destroy yet another pristine environment…

Vancouver Weekend

Tourists on a budget rejoice and feast upon 93 Canadian cent pizza slices; Vancouver’s ghetto lunch on the run. However no word on how it tastes. British Columbia’s alternative to the meatier 99 cent Big Mac. I love Canadian coins and bills. So many queens, so many colors. No secret Masonic eye or any of the God stuff that is on the dollar. Plus, they even sport my favorite animals, the beaver and the loon.

The Templeton; special folks and good grilled cheese sandwiches, all in a retro 1950’s style diner complete with hoards of Gay Vancouverites. Recommended. They also sport a soda fountain that a little bird told me is luscious. But I’m on a diet so I wouldn’t eat such slag. The processed sugar industry I feel, is wholeheartedly to blame for this.

Bus stop at Robson. Leaning on the granite edifice of Sears and Roebuck, a disenfranchised man sings his songs, rattles his change cup and watches a global sprinkling of humanity await their electric, non-foul exhaust-emitting bus’s arrival. The music was a bit of a cross between Willy Nelson, Merle Haggard and Axl Rose.

Squamish climbing. Ascending the apron, an off-vertical glacial polished hillside circumvented by vertical cracks. Without them the hill might need bolts. Trees along the route make small ledges that are a feature of climbs near and on the Chief. Got my shoe stuck in cat crack, my first foray into granite climbing. BC power lines provide and interesting background to the industrial, yet green Squamish region.

I noticed a lot of New Zealanders in Vancouver. All are nice and pleasant. Kiwi girls are among the nicest. Their men have the tendency to be mean drunks.

Oregon: The Beaver State

Costco families converge in Warrenton, Oregon. Mix of people: definite. Locals easily spotted: you bet your buns. Mangoes: stringy yet refreshingly sweet. Buying in bulk? For the homeowner, probably an excessive buying strategy. I noticed again how wasteful and excessive dining out in America is. Luckily the concept of a light meal is gaining ground. In every store, town and airport, however obese (and I mean like over 100 pounds overweight) easily spotted. I often pine for a day where Costco goes bezerk and makes its suppliers take back all that excessive packaging. After reading Garbage land: On the secret trail of trash, I feel as if people are truly oblivious creatures when it comes to limiting our ecological footprint…

At Costco I spied Fat Boy Ice Cream Sandwiches. Knee braces and a do-it-yourself stomach stapling kit now included. Bravo for a company not trying to pretty up its image. Brutal partially hydrogenated soybean oil-coated honest marketing.

July 20, 2005. Venue: Saddle Mountain State Park. Incident: two folks who didn’t take kindly to my comments on the local timber industry. Fat mom with idiot son. Likely driving Ford 350 XT with duellies. Not environmentally progressive as it turns out. Lesson learned: keep politics out of casual conversations to avoid bubbles bursting and heads exploding at challenges to the status quo. Isn’t it sad that a free exchange of ideas, a pillar of democracy has begun to be replaced by gravitation toward secularism. Did Jesus invent the chainsaw in his free time? Would he advocate general ignorance of modern, cost-effective alternative forestry?

Atop Saddle Mountain Sis and I met a Scottish photographer at the summit of the stately 3200 foot peak. Nepalese might call that more of a hill. What adventure led a Scot to reside in Portland? I am curious…

My sister, thoroughly in the grasp of what I like to call the University Student trance, has developed what you might call a bit of flab around her midriff. As do I. She still eats like a pre-teen, despite have recently joined the ranks of full-fledged adulthood. I’m talking about things like neon fruit cut-outs, diet Oreos. Hiking for the day with me she experienced her first sugar burn-out. Reduced-calorie Oreos. Snack-food of champions.

Lots of God loves America, etc ribbons seen on cards and hindquarters. All this renewed patriotism certainly reminds me of that old song, Tie a Yellow Ribbon, about a prisoner pining for his freedom and his former partner. At 99 cents they are a cheap way to act and believe as Fox news dictates. Kind of a political spin-off of the WWJD thing. I’ll tell you one thing, you can’t blame Jesus for the Crusades, Iraq or any other folly perpetuated by the Church. I am beginning to sound chotto anti, aren’t I?

Land…mighty land stretching across the horizon. Few high-tension lines souring mountain vistas. For that we have massive altmodish clear cuts. Greenery: simply everywhere. It is really not a fair comparison. There is so much real estate in the US that just remains idle, fallow, underutilized and staggeringly cheap whence compared with urban Japan, where land is sold in units as small as a half meter square. Just look at my mother in law’s garden plot as an example. She bought the remaining half-meter from the landlady for a premium. Though quite useful land and very fertile once the concrete cap was removed, it boast what the father in law jests must certainly be Kobe’s most expensive daikon (long, tubular and intimidating radish).

LAX Walkabout:

The situation is that in LAX no one likes their job, at least no one I have encountered. I have used the airport here just three times, either inbound our en route to that long, facially taxing 11.5 hour leg from Osaka’s KIX. I had a few hours to kill and since LAX is bisected by California’s famed Highway 1, a walkabout seemed in order.

A decent taco salad from Carl’s Jr and an admonishment from a homeless window washer to not be afraid of the African American race later, I had seen enough. Being a car culture, LA takes spread out to the extreme. I enjoyed the walk, and the bustling commerce surrounding the terminals themselves. The inter-terminal shuttle driver, miffed tourists in tote, was talking on her cell to coordinate a desperate apartment search. A friendly man outside gave good advice, as long as I supported his ecumenical leanings. Bring it on, I say.

Tourists stopped ME and asked for directions. Do I look Californian? I always seem to notice that in LA there is a contacts and no glasses rule. My wardrobe nixes that notion but admittedly being asked for directions gives people two options. First, a great chance to send the weary and disoriented astray. On the happy end, It is prime time to share the knowledge banging around my head like small, misplaced pebbles.

Peter Jennings died. He should have followed Tom Brokaw’s example and stayed healthy by rock climbing frequently. I respect a newscast that likes the nature, didn’t smoke and works for a network that hasn’t been touched by anything, including an angel. Feedback welcome to ryaninjapan76@yahoo.com, at your leisure.

###

A bit from yesterday;

Hiker 1 (me): You'll have a great view of Ranier and Adams, but try to ignore the clearcuts.

Hikers 2 and 3 (slightly fatties) Oh no! (hippie alarm sounds) knee jerk retalitory comment: "Well do you want us to stop using paper?)

Hiker 1: Smile (to self: perhaps these people don't know much about sustainable forestry. I should keep my opinions to myself!)

(background: the new cuts in the astoria state forest are far exceeding federal forestry suggestions for timber harvest plots. Well, anyway I guess you had to be there.

This mom and son team really was unprepared for such a radical suggestion like making logging blend into the landscape; utilizing small plots and select cutting. anyway this bothered me for a few minutes until I thought about the tasty chicken enchilladas I had for lunch. mmm...enchillada

From Kurdistan with Love

He wiles away a Saturday night. Luckily, business is good and a big funeral crowd scurries toward home amongst the spot lit wooden edifice of Ikuta shrine. His furrowed brow and thin stature suggests evidence of a harsh reality. How harsh I had no idea…

Born in the high steppes of Kurdistan, a political no-man’s land comprising northern Iraq and a sizable portion of Turkey, this kebab vendor is a man without free passage, without the ability to travel across established borders, as there are simply no Kurdistan passports in existence.

His Kebabs, comprised of pita bread, shredded cabbage and chicken painstakingly roasted just centimeters from the patron are an investment both in curbing our hunger and stepping into a frightening world of a Kurdish political refugee.

Putting his real name in print would undoubtedly bring him harm, so his adopted name, for the duration of this article, shall be x x a common name among Kurdish men of his generation.

Having not set foot in his homeland for more than 25 years, x spent a decade as a certified refugee under the UN refugee act living, working and longing in Norway whilst waiting for the political situation to improve. Further persecution of Iraq Kurds and Kurdish asylum seekers across the globe were frustrating reminders of his ever-worsening odds to raise his family in a place he felt he belonged.

What does he miss? “It’s very beautiful in my home town, with the high mountains, and the dry air.” Asked whether he considers returning to the village he fled almost three decades prior, his face darkens: That is just not a favorable option, he notes.

Around Kansai: Takedao’s Tunnels Ryan Parker Visits the train line turned recreational center of Takedao Dating from before World War Two the now disused brick tunnels of Takedao offer a cool, breezy respite to the summer heat. With lots of unspoiled nature, hiking courses and picnicking grounds it’s a good spot for a day out. The main hiking (some would say walking) course follows a section of the former JR Sanda rail line along the Mukogawa river. The tunneled railway line was fully decommissioned in 1986 with the new line veering west away from the river canyon. Following along the abandoned tracks there are a number of tunnels to pass through. They are damp, refreshing and, of course, very dark so it is advised that you bring along a flashlight. On the way you can cross ageing iron trestles, whose rotting timbers afford you a birds eye view the rivers emerald-green waters as they cascade down numerous series of rapids, spillways and chutes. The depth of the river level here varies considerably depending on rainfall, evidenced by the water markings on a giant tree stump wedged into a bridge in front of JR Takedao. That is almost 15 meters above normal river levels. As of spring 2005 the railroad ties were being removed and replaced with coarse crushed rock. So, sturdy hiking shoes are advised. While the tunnels can be done as a one-way trip, this path ends at busy Rte 176 from where you can walk down-river to JR Namaze. However it is more pleasant to turn around and retrace your steps as most you’ll walk in a day here is about five kilometers. On the return leg, Sakura House comes recommended; they offer a good mix of seasonal desserts, snacks, beverages and the usual Japanese noodle dishes. Look for the Swiss-inspired wooden hut in the picnic parking area. They have staked out prime river-front views to boot. At the start of the trail there are a number of popular picnic areas where you can enjoy a well earned rest after the day’s exertions. Access:Takedao is a local-only stop on the JR Fukuchiyama line. The hiking and picnicking action begins a few hundred meters south of JR Takedao’s lone exit. Parking is free and located near the start of the hike. Extra:From Osaka board a local JR train bound for Sanda or Shin-Sanda. From Kyoto or Kobe use the Hankyu Railway to Takarazuka station; then transfer at JR Takarazuka

Saddle Mountain 800 Words July 1, 2005 (deadline March 7, 2006)
Saddle Mountain State natural area lies just 8 miles from the Necanicum Junction, and looms on a clear day over nearby Seaside, in the wet, green center of Clastop County. Comprised of accreted terrains as the melting pacific plate slides under continental North America, this ancient volcano and its forested surrounds is one of the least-touristy spots on the North Coast. In fact visitors to Saddle mountain have much to do, see and experience as the mainstream whirrs by to more popular )and thus subject to summertime traffic snarls) destinations along the stretch of Highway 101 immediately west of the park.

The lofty 3,283 foot Saddle Mountain is the Queen of the coast range, with Benton County’s Mary’s Peak king at 4,038 feet. You may be asking yourself, what exactly, is Saddle Mountain made of? Explained best in the handy Roadside Geology of Oregon, the mountain is comprised of pillow basalts, seafloor scrapings, both from geologic processes, millions of years ago that transformed what was then ocean floor, into what is now the coast range, the Willamette Valley and the heavily-eroded western Cascades..

The forest cover in and among the mountain’s shadow is good evidence of the sheer biodiversity of the northwest corner of Oregon is blessed with. Alder, western red cedar, pine and several species of fir intermingle depending on altitude.

Oregon state parks boasts 231 properties statewide, of which 179 are developed for day use and overnight camping. This vast amount of land exceeds 96,000 square acres! For more information on Saddle Mountain State Natural area (one of four natural areas statewide), turn to these online resources:

Fast facts (boxed)
There are 10 primitive camp sites available March 1 thru November. Camping is on a first come, first serve basis. To make reservations, contact Oregon State Park Reservations at 800-452-5687, well in advance of your planned visit.
Saddle Mountain’s official Internet site is www.oregonstateparks.org/park_197.php
Send general queries to: park.info@state.or.us. The General information helpline is 800-551-6949.
Day use fees for hikers and visitors is $5.00.

For consideration:
Tree species: make notes Sources list. History links
Photo angles: Sign at highway, sign stating 3 miles, from viewpoint, from summit, open meadow, sunset, sunrise, from Warrenton.
Digital images via well-labeled CD-R and Slides.
------------
http://englishriverwebsite.com/LewisClarkColumbiaRiver/Regions/Places/saddle_mountain.html
www.nwhiker.com


Sidebar: Other Day hikes in Saddle Mountain’s vicinity.
Cape Falcon trail: Just 20 minutes south from Saddle Mountain by car, wildlife and spectacular trailside views are what make this hike a must. Convenient for visitors going south down US 101, the four-mile hike can be done in two to three hours. Moss-blanketed Sitka spruce, erosion-resistant salal and grassy plateaus are highlights. Hikers often spot black-tailed deer, pilleated woodpeckers and, of course, plenty of seagulls scanning the rocky shoreline for hope of a wayward sea star or jellyfish remnant.

Access: The trail begins at Oswald West state park. Parking is available on either side of the highway.

Neakahnie Mountain Summit hike: Jutting out into the Pacific and creating the photogenic view of Nehalem bay, this mountain is steep, rocky and totally doable. As you drive toward the crest Neahkahnie Mountain on US 101, look for a brown hiker sign on the left. Follow the access road to the trailhead. Reach the actual summit by an easy scramble. Please take along a flashlight when heading up to watch an unforgettable sunset. The trail tops out at 1,631 feet.

(DRAFT)
From Kyoto, Hurry up and slow down. Falafel's appeal as "fast food"

Amir Trojbicz came to Japan in 1987. For the past 18 years, he has worn a number of hats. All the while, he has not forgotten the turbulent life in Israel he left behind. His current venture Falafel Garden has become an all-encompassing ecology-minded quest to educate minds and fill stomachs full of locally grown cuisine.

Speaking of the century-old former sake shop where he runs Falafel Garden, Trojbicz notes the beautiful wooden structure was heavily under-utilized. For example where diners can relax amongst a flower garden was once a dusty storage area for decrepit cardboard boxes. Relying on a meager budget and a mental image, he gutted the interior and the new look is mild, friendly and affords a great view of the neighborhood. This Sakeyaten cum falafel outlet is "a very special place," and a neighborhood anchor.

He fell into the place by chance, notes Trojbicz. At his first restaurant, Falafel King in Nara, a loyal customer living Kyoto's Demachiyanagi sector mentioned his neighbor's sake shop was up for sale. Sensing an opportunity, Trojbicz made his move.

Moving across the mountain and starting up Falafel garden has been made easier by the networking he did running the show at Falafel King (Sadly, now defunct). Organic vegetable farmers from across the Kansai region make these meals 100% home grown. The soybeans, tomatoes and even the sesame seeds are grown pesticide, herbicide and GMO free. "Care affects taste. Falafel is a fresh, day-to-day food."

Trojbicz knows falafel. Being Israeli, it is his home nation's adopted national food. Simply put, "It's the oldest fast food in the world." But it is not that simple. Many Arab nations see their falafel as a cultural icon, much akin to the American hamburger or the German sausage. The different variations of falafel across the globe cater to that particular culture's palate. In Egypt, the falafel is drier. The Jordanian and Israeli cooking styles, are most similar. Making falafel in such places is akin to Mexican tortillas, all productions steps are done at home, with all family members taking an active role.

Falafel is a year-round snack, meal and cultural institution. All Israelis, whether Muslim, Christian or Orthodox Jew, have a favorite stall. With Kosher consideration in mind, no one need worry. Passover is the lone time to give up the breaded falafel sandwich. Trojbicz, like all Israeli males, spent between three and four years in the military. "As an Israeli soldier falafel is a good, cheap option." His weekly snack is a stark reminder of the vulnerabilities and stresses he felt living in Israel, aspects he does not miss.

On whether he attained his delicious recipes from a skilled family member, he smiles and proclaims: "Falafel is the result of test, test and retest." But the fact that his mother his mom is a chef at a world-class restaurant in Argentina, cooking Kibbutz, couldn't hurt. Lying somewhere within this well-traveled and thus very spread out clan's DNA are some serious cooking genes.

His dream is being realized as he helps his Japanese customers, the majority new to the concept of a pita-based sandwich, exclaim "Oishii Katta!" and make a connection between "healthy" and the more familiar English phrase Fast food." The Japanese, Trojbicz attests, is a society built upon a "speedy lifestyle," where high costs for food grown organically and prepared as demand determines is seen negatively. Its certainly an inhibitor to the slow food movement.




Notes:

Israeli Macabe \580 from Netanya, Israel.
Organic coffee \400
Falafel's mention can be found both in Bob Dylan Lyrics and Greek Mythology.
Falafel in three words (see KTO quotes).
Sets include one pita sandwich and a drink(4 varieties: Falafel, Hummus, Baba Ganoush and Avocado.) prices range \630~\1110

Getting There:
Falafel Garden is just 100 meters east of Keihan Demachiyanagi station. Tel. 075-712-1856. Seating options include a second floor baconly, a counter and tables in the aforementioned garden. Open everyday from

Kulture Club:

And some folks say we're all the same....

Keeping anonimity paramount, enjoy descriptions of people I know here in the development-minded archepeligo.

Person A: This tall, built and kindly man is from South Africa. He is the son of the almost 1973 Karate champion. Traits about him I like are his confidence and ability to see through problems.
He enjoys his air rifles, a nifty styrofoam cutter and a beautiful girlfriend chock full of personality, curiousity and strength.

Person B: This shrewd investor slash softball guru is another close friend whose take-no-prisoners attitude would make hime a good mayorial candidate in the future. However this person also is very educated and aware of the social problems plauguing the planet. His friend, whose political opinions could be misconstrued as chotto environmental terroristish, respects his conservative values. This guy also hiked a huge mountain wearing only Tevas, so that is something to be in awe of, as well.

Person C: This straight outt the 'peg world traveler has a lot of interesting yarns to spin. He worked for immigration Canada and such work-related stories would inspire even the most relaxed border guard to cringe. He also recommends Winnipeg as a place to avoid when he feels is an across-the-board US military call-up (aka conscription). He also is quite a dedicated teacher and has an aura which provides him many opportunities to meet chatty locals on the bus home from work. He and his wife's first initial matches that of a popular candy, made up of an assortment of shellac-coated candy bits. Of course one must add an "and" to the initials for the aforementioned part to make sense.

Person D: This person got five defermants to avoid fighting in Vietnam. To match, I believe he has had five heart attacks to match. Ironic? No, it gets better. Find this cheery fellow in one of many undisclosed locations in and around the capital of the country in which he wields enourmous power.

Person E: This British expat has a great old cottage which is over 150 years old. To add to this quaintness and low-impact living he has organized a network of organic farms across Japan. He is a major player at Kansai's biggest English-language magazine, when he is not in Hong Kong working on a Lantau Island-based butterfly garden. This initiative is helping to preserve what undeveloped land reamins, between the sleek Hong Kong International Airport and the new Dinsneyland resort.

more to follow...

The tomfoolery of the Kobe Electric Railway's youthful patrons:

1. A middle school student put a healthy glop of gel in his hair, then proceeded to flagilate his scalp for about 10 minutes. I was sitting next to him. Everyone was enjoying his hairs floating about like DNA afloat in the steady stream of air conditioned lovliness.

2. A boy, exercising the nifty fashion trend of extreme sagging, drooped his pants and displayed his hello kitty boxers. All the elderly passengers were confused, as if to not quite be able to discern why dropping ones's pants to crack-displaying levels is fashionable.

Hurry up and slow down. Falafel's appeal as "fast food"



Amir Trojbicz came to Japan in 1987. For the past 18 years, he has worn a number of hats. All the while, he has not forgotten the turbulent life in Israel he left behind. His current venture Falafel Garden has become an all-encompassing ecology-minded quest to educate minds and fill stomachs full of locally grown cuisine.

Speaking of the century-old former sake shop where he runs Falafel Garden, Trojbicz notes the beautiful wooden structure was heavily under-utilized. For example where diners can relax amongst a flower garden was once a dusty storage area for decrepit cardboard boxes. Relying on a meager budget and a mental image, he gutted the interior and the new look is mild, friendly and affords a great view of the neighborhood. This Sakeyaten cum falafel outlet is "a very special place," and a neighbor hood anchor.

He fell into the place by chance, notes Trojbicz. At his first restaurant, Falafel King in Nara, a loyal customer living Kyoto's Demachiyanagi sector mentioned his neighbor's sake shop was up for sale. Sensing an opportunity, Trojbicz made his move.

Moving across the mountain and starting up Falafel garden has been made easier by the networking he did running the show at Falafel King (Sadly, now defunct). Organic vegetable farmers from across the Kansai region make these meals 100% home grown. The soybeans, tomatoes and even the sesame seeds are grown pesticide, herbicide and GMO free. "Care affects taste. Falafel is a fresh, day-to-day food."

Trojbicz knows falafel. Being Israeli, it is his home nation's adopted national food. Simply put, "It's the oldest fast food in the world." But it is not that simple. Many Arab nations see their falafel as a cultural icon, much akin to the American hamburger or the German sausage. The different variations of falafel across the globe cater to that particular culture's palate. In Egypt, the falafel is drier. The Jordanian and Israeli cooking styles, are most similar. Making falafel in such places is akin to Mexican tortillas, all productions steps are done at home, with all family members taking an active role.

Falafel is a year-round snack, meal and cultural institution. All Israelis, whether Muslim, Christian or Orthodox Jew, have a favorite stall. With Kosher consideration in mind, no one need worry. Passover is the lone time to give up the breaded falafel sandwich. Trojbicz, like all Israeli males, spent between three and four years in the military. "As an Israeli soldier falafel is a good, cheap option." His weekly snack is a stark reminder of the vulnerabilities and stresses he felt living in Israel, aspects he does not miss.

On whether he attained his delicious recipes from a skilled family member, he smiles and proclaims: "Falafel is the result of test, test and retest." But the fact that his mother his mom is a chef at a world-class restaurant in Argentina, cooking Kibbutz, couldn't hurt. Lying somewhere within this well-traveled and thus very spread out clan's DNA are some serious cooking genes.

His dream is being realized as he helps his Japanese customers, the majority new to the concept of a pita-based sandwich, exclaim "Oishii Katta!" and make a connection between "healthy" and the more familiar English phrase Fast food." The Japanese, Trojbicz attests, is a society built upon a "speedy lifestyle," where high costs for food grown organically and prepared as demand determines is seen negatively. Its certainly an inhibitor to the slow food movement.




Notes:

Israeli Macabe \580 from Netanya, Israel.
Organic coffee \400
Falafel's mention can be found both in Bob Dylan Lyrics and Greek Mythology.
Falafel in three words (see KTO quotes).
Sets include one pita sandwich and a drink(4 varieties: Falafel, Hummus, Baba Ganoush and Avocado.) prices range \630~\1110

Getting There:
Falafel Garden is just 100 meters east of Keihan Demachiyanagi station. Tel. 075-712-1856. Seating options include a second floor baconly, a counter and tables in the aforementioned garden. Open everyday from

The End of Suburbia and the end of Cheap Oil

Nipping into Osaka yester evening, I watched what might be called a documentary entitled "The end of Suburbia". Finding the roots of sprawl, sprawl which consumes former croplands, sprawl which we all confess is ugly on the eyes. One good point the film made was that the trend to commute to and from bedroom communities stems from the industrialization, and hence, dirtying, of downtown sectors by industrial noise, smog and various other nastiness.

But being one who sort of lived in the unincorporated sector of an American county overrun with suburbs, I'd have to say I don't like suburbs either. Here are some reasons for this.

One, suburb kids tend to be punks. Since their parents are often not around (vying for the best lane in amongst the gridlock) the said parental units tend to compensate their brood with stuff. This stuff tends to be purchased at mega-mega shops like Wal-Mart. These suburb punks, with nothing better to occupy their unsupervised afternoons, tend to see the world as a system of birthright, and utter jealousy results when the neighbor's little Johnny gets a big wheel for his birthday. Johnny's gang of up and coming punks thus all request (persuasively) a Big Wheel and soon one finds a roving pack of these Big Wheelers wreaking havoc on these perfectly designed planned communities.

Two, suburbs attract strip malls. These beaus tend to feature gut bomb Chinese take-out, Cleaning for Dad's Rayon suits and a centerpiece grocer with names like "marketplace," or some other name invoking an image of the true countryside, which it surely isn't. Such places exist in my hometown, fanning outwards toward oblivion, with names like Beaverton, Tigard, Sunny Valley, Happy Valley and even the Arabic-sounding Damascus. While green and full of great gardens, they do tend to offer arcetecture that is, well chotto... cookie cutter.


Solutions to this problem, both from the film and my discombooberated frontal lobe include:

1. Planned communities which combine pederstrian lifestyle with safe, clean, communities. Of course many cities are accomplishing this by redeveloping their downtowns. One big stumbling block there, however is real estate prices are often out of reach for the average couple.

2. Government intervention to build smaller cars. A very idealist, but important point to impliment. The buzz word these days is conserving energy, but with minimal entry into complex princibles of Physics, it is more about FUEL consumption. The rate of fuel consumption needs to be reduced. Thinner people, more hybrid cars and shorting commuting distance all reduce fuel usage

3. Try to find an honest politician or two. There are SO many good, cutting edge ideas out there, floating around waiting to be listened to and have some good done with them.

4. Any suggestions of your own?

A cornucopia of events to report on...

first, a trip to secretive Iya valley, essentially in the center of Shikoku. Rented the tiniest car available, with a 660 CC motor. I can't envision exactly what size that is, but it topped out at about 100　KPH, or 60 miles per hour.

Iya is so green and remote, its windy roads are a marvel. We passed several secluded hamlets where residents' link to the outside world is via self-propelled cable cars. The lowest population density I have seen in Japan had to be this area of rural western Tokushima prefecture.

Also I got to visit a nifty temple, Ryozenji, #1 on the 88 temple circuit. 87 more to go. Drove by # 5 and #8 but does that count?

I stayed at a 300 year old famrhouse, Chiiori (www.chiiori.org) that was the brainchild of famous Alex Kerr, whom rescued the homestead from decay and helped spawn the Woofing, organic farming network that continues to attract foriegn visitors and Japanese alike.

Also enjoyed a trip to an onsen. Being the 2nd anniversary we got to have the "mixed" room to ourselves. There we also some cool snails feasting upon unseen bacteria that geothermal water tends to contain.

Last Friday I was the emcee at the school's annual International Day. This year's slogan was " Let's enjoy yourself together," prepared by the straight-laced supervising manager of all things international. You can't knock him for trying. This of course reminds me of an old, rehashed but mildly amusing story often told to me by my Mutti:

Wandering around Munich in the late months of 1970, she apprached Die Poletzei and asked:

"Wie ist die Brucke," rather that "Wo ist die Brucke." How, rather that where. I'm sure the German policeman was amused at this young, quite striking American asking him the innermost feelings of a giant granite bridge span.

Found, with a coarse erstwhile fun-loving Londoner's assistance, probably the most interesting bar in Kobe. Also enjoyed some stirring conversations (in short supply during the workweek) while sitting on the steps of the downtown's Shinto shrine. So thanks you two for a fun night out.

Also enjoyed a great walk to and from the shop. We are adding some bamboo screens to block the intense sunlight that peeps in each morning. Sunrise is now 4:45 am, with sunset being about 7:30. The neigbor lady, whom must be 85 if she's a day, enjoys this early sunrise to wake up us up with her early dawn houscleaning shenanigans.

Headed to Canada to climb the world's 2nd biggest granite monolith. What have I signed on to?
Will provide all the white knuckled details as they exert themselves.

A writing instructor has told me that I need to work on my transitions.

I ate bangladesh food and enjoyed my associate's farmhouse, complete with real forest!

The concept of Migraine visited our "cultural dwelling" last weekend. The Japanese medicial profession rolled up their sleeves and thanks to an imported Phizer pill, whose name I've forgotton, I was better soon.

A conference was cut short due to a fever. I think I'm allergic to my lack of career progression.

More to follow...

Around Kansai: Hiking the Tunnels of Takedao　(武田尾)
Takedao, lying in unincorporated Takarazuka city, is made famous by its tunnels. These brick-encrusted tunnels date from the pre-WWII era. Cold, sometimes frost-encrusted winters here give way to breezy, cool respites to sweltering Kansai summer heat. Add in unspoiled greenery, picnicking grounds and fresh air for the makings of lovely day out.

The hiking (some would say walking) course follows a section of the former JR Sanda rail line which follows the Mukogawa river (which empties into Osaka Bay). The tunneled railway line was fully decommissioned in 1986. Hikers arrive at JR Takedao via its’ straighter, faster replacement, veering west away from the river canyon and barreling under Nishinomiya’s northern suburbs.

Cross aging iron trestles, whose rotting timbers afford you a bird’s eye of view the river’s emerald-green waters as they cascade down numerous series of rapids, spillways and chutes. The river level here varies considerably depending on rainfall, evidenced by a giant tree stump wedged into a bridge in front of JR Takedao. That’s almost 15 meters above normal river levels! Don’t forget to bring along a flashlight: several of the course’s seven tunnels are curved at an angle that shuns all outside light.

While the tunnels can be done as a one-way trip, this route ends at busy Rte 176, Hyogo Prefecture’s north-south artery. (Here, there is the option to walk downriver 1 km to JR Namaze) With this in mind, it is recommended to turn around and retrace your steps. The most you’ll walk during your day at Takedao is about five kilometers.

As of spring 2005 the railroad ties were being removed and replaced with coarse crushed rock. So where sneakers used to suffice, sturdy hiking shoes are advised.

On your return leg, Sakura House comes recommended; they offer a good mix of seasonal desserts, snacks, beverages and the usual Japanese noodle dishes. Look for the Swiss-inspired wooden hut in the picnic parking area. They have staked out prime riverfront views to boot.

Conveniently for motorists, vehicle access is easy and free, providing locals and city folk alike with many picnic areas near the start of the trail.
Getting there: Takedao is on the JR Takarazuka line. Be sure to board a local train bound for Sanda (三田). One way fares include: Hankyu Sannomiya: \450; Kawaramachi, \710 and Osaka: \460.
---
*Another hike in the vicinity could make for a full day of Takarazuka-area rambling. This second option links Hankyu Yamamoto and Kiyoshi Koujin Stations, offering a stopoff at Nakayama, home to a fertility shrine for aspiring mothers-to-be. Budget five hours and pack a lunch to enjoy at Nakayaya’s summit, a fire-scarred promenade which also provides an eagle-eyed view of all the action at nearby Itami Airport. From Hankyu Yamamoto, take the north exit and proceed up the obvious path, signed in English as a Pilgrim’s Trail. The trail ends at the famous Kioshikoujin shrine, with a nice shopping arcade descent to the station of the same name.

Give a bit back while visiting Angkor's splendor

Central Siem Reap, Cambodia
The unassuming earth-tone stucco building could easily be missed, as one zips by on a $1 precarious but memorable moto taxi, en route to the main park entrance to the wonderous Angkor Wat UNESCO site.
In fact, the building almost no visitors notice or stop at is home to the KANTHA BOPHA Children's Hospital.
This children's hospital (and another of the same name in Phnom Penh) is the brainchild of Swiss-born Dr. Beat Richter.
He relies heavily on visitor support via blood donation so that he can perform various pediatric proceedures most cambodian families cannot afford.
All his medical supplies are purchased in Switzerland to assure donors the most modern and comfortable donation environment.
Blood donation is, speaking from limited experience, pain-free and only takes a few minutes.
Cambodian people, it would seem to make more sense, would make better sources as a blood donor pool, right?
As it turns out, many locals cannot donate themselves due to Hepatitis C being common and which, when transmitted, eventually causes liver failure.
(I was told this by a long-term American expat who himself made a big contribution to Cambodia's post-Khmer Rouge era by introducing the Internet to Cambodia back in the early 1990's, thus helping the blooming and ever-expanding tourist industry)
Stepping through the gates of the Children's Hospital was intimidating, as grieving parents desperate for medical care to heal their kids line up each day in the hope that they'll be helped.
Within the hospital compound, fans attempted to cool the throngs of people sprawled about, either too weak to move or exhausted from the long wait for clinical services.
I felt almost ill with guilt as the gaunt, desperate eyes waiting in shaded yet tropical heat followed my course, a healthy if not overtly plump caucasian tourist, into the hospital compound.
It was a true cultural gauntlet to walk, luckily my moto driver caught on and escorted me in without missing a stride. Although the $5 I paid him for a moto ride to the clinic, to Angkor and back to my hostel was equal to a full week's work for the average Cambodian...
As you help, through your tourist dollars, (Cambodian Riel is in effect a locals-only currency) to make Siem Reap a mainstay in Southeast Asian holidaymaking, pause for just a bit and try to give back.
You could just be the one to help Dr. Richtner save yet another child's life.
Learn more at: www.beat-richner.ch/

from my site at: http://www.thingsasian.com/goto_article/tell_story.3205.html

-----------------


Isle of Smiles: Taiwan's Hospitality

An eight-day trip whittles away fast, travelers know this is both the curse and the blessing of a week's venture to a new place, culture and in this case, an island.
Whilst staring dumbfoundedly at perplexing sidewalk cafe menus displayed in Chinese characters or trying to explain directions to a Cabbie, I felt a pleasant air about the people. They really want visitors to enjoy their time and act as such.
Some of my best Taiwan experiences were sipping pungent tea from a miniscule pot in Pinglin on a rainy November morning and being offered a harrowing moped ride on the descent from a day hike in Yushan National Park.
I really hope to invest more time in exploring this island and its multitude of welcoming hosts.
* * * * *
Published on 1/11/05

http://www.thingsasian.com/goto_article/tell_story.3091.html

So... more unpaid markets. My fans- please pass these around. Later on I hope to add to these and make them saleable.

Copyright 2005 Thingsasian.com

Pig on the tracks!

After picking up the missus from ye olde airport limosine (actually just a bus) we were on the kakoeki densha (local train ala Japanese) and the train was halted to yield to a tired pair of wild boar. Good for the boar the driver spotted them before they became hood? ornaments...

Letters from me to me:

I checked my bodily mail and here is what I found:

Letter # 1:

Dear self,

please stop eating those maple syrup cookies.

kind regards,

your arteries

---------------
Letter # 2:

Dear Ryan,

Perhaps more fibre in your diet would grease the wheels of this here operation. Just let me do what I'm designed to do!

hugs,
your sphinctor

It seemed like a harmless gig at first, dressing up like the NOVA bunny. The ad I had clipped out the classified stated in bold that 4 hours work was 10,000 yen, not at all a bad rate considering the lack of necessary skills. A quick man-er much easier than those voice-recording gigs I had done previously. All for a good-intentioned boost to my recently drained travel fund.

Little did I know that the world of the NOVA pink bunny was in fact an unexpected portal into the cleverly disguised unpleasantness, bone-breaking extortionism that is the seedy underbelly of this giant corporate behemouth.

In other words, it was my first day in the labrynth of the... Unsagichan Code...

Anthology of short films by Jan Svankmajer...

One of the best movies I have rented in some time. Go out and get it!

Also, my Spokane connection set me up with a copy of Napolean Dynomite, and I was also impressed.

Lots a movies lately. I am trying to sort out a backlog of about two years and this takes, as you might guess, ample time for them to become available in Japan.

Hey Hey Hey


On Sunday I saw a sea bream ritualistically sauteed, sliced and eaten by the gods of luck. A trout was sent skyward after suffering a similar fate, but expected considering the fish's position on the food chain.

Last week we watched a hungry deer on scenic Miyajima eat an empty pack of cigarettes, errantly disposed of by a not-so-neurotic smoker. Luckily, it spit out the shrink wrap liner, but still, it ATE a ciggy carton! yech.

The better half is off to Korea. She will have to enjoy the delicacies for both of us.

Bless her heart.

Writing and potential future income, beckons!

Kansai Morning Musings As switch tracks are thrown, the local train jolts into the station, allowing an express to roar through. The velvet bench seats are warm to the touch. My head brushes against advertisements for tours, musicals, adult magazines and the newest beverage. I space out to the klickety-klack of the electric railway. I hear the nervous rustlings of the sports page, behind which a company worker feasts upon his “me time,” on his way to the office. I hear nasal squeamishness of the conductor calling out scripted pleasantries. Everyone enjoys the excited yelps of elementary school kids playing tag, in amongst the patient sighs of seasoned office ladies and college girls applying an extra cake of foundation. I hear the soft slap of their patent leather penny loafers on the cement platform. Clubbers cackle about the previous night’s shenanigans, muttering about the day’s impending sleep and part-time work to be completed. White heat accosts your face as the rising sun’s light shines through the carriage’s many windows. Moments of gentle warm, mixed with a reassuring cool breeze, assurance enough that the summer heat is, for the moment, plotting elsewhere. Announcements leapfrog from the ailing PA system, reverberate off the underground labyrinth in some sort of tonal leapfrogging: “The express/sub-express/mildly local/departing on/arriving on track 1/3/5…is approaching…most honorable passengers collect your most treasured belongings…” Amongst the soul-suffocating din, a pigeon’s pursuit of a wayward cracker, crunched under a thousand Vibram soles, is rewarded with a happy cooing. Ravens ride the warm morning breeze, scanning for possible edibles hurriedly left behind by the busy citizenry on their way to work, school and points unknown. Train company jingles, reminiscent of 1980’s technology, compete for shattered attention spans: “I’ve been working on the railroad…Oh, give me a home…” And with a horrific metal on metal, teeth-gnashing scream, another train reaches its terminal, and another gaggle of Obasans queues, high-heels clicking on the stone floor; off to do another day’s business of the most undying importance. And at my destination I feel the passive-aggressive nip of another commuter’s heels as I trudge, apparently much too slowly for the public good, up the whirring escalator, which saves us all ten steps each morning. Like a biblical flood, we collectively whoosh out the gate, inserting passes and tickets while station managers observe the flow. Smokers hunch around ashtrays, enjoying Virginia’s finest. Luckily this all unfold before me, the sounds and odors of another place from which I didn’t originate. Another morning commute in Kobe, another glimpse into a morning in Japan.

Hello from an all-to-busy staff room at 7:45 am...

I work now at the high school, whose name translates to "Bellflower Commercial High School." It's a lot breezier and windier than the school in the flatlands below our apartment. Let's see... We will visit Hiroshima this weekend and a few out of the way places on rented bikes. I'm pretty excited about it. Expect the full report later on, before the time you read the letter if I am on top of things.

As of today the school where my pal teaches art is still being used as a clean-up/rescue area for the horrific Amagasaki train that wrecked down the block. The busy train route is enterening day three of no service.

For some clippings, check out www.yahoo.com and click on Asia news.
Pretty sad and totally avoidable story. The engineer was a rookie, like 23 and had several problems like overshooting stops in the past, but before we hang em high let's wait to see some other undetermined factors which remain unreported be sorted out fully. For the 73 victims however, It is a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Train company officials of course are to blame in that they need to better train and supervise engineers, for in this case the driver was executing poor judgment and heaps of people paid the price for it. But I hate scapegoats except in cases where I could personally profit.

I am writing my first short fiction piece. The plot is, simply anyway that there is a hedgehog, let's call him Stuart, who eats people embroiled in pork barrel construction projects and then the said alligator becomes a larger metaphor for all the world's ills. This, in 2000 words or less. It's for this magazine of varying quality in Tokyo. Prize is 80 bucks, and may be good book material. Would you want to read it? Be diplomatic in your answer.

As it turns out I was just making that up. Who would pay a 20 spot for something like that?
Well, ever been to Borders?

I took the State Department's Foreign Service written exam again on April 23. It was much easier this time around. In July, when test results are sent out, maybe Providence will smile upon me and boost me onto the Federal payroll. Apparently all the languages I have half-learned to speak are a big bonus.

These days, however Arabic is in big demand as Bush is undoubtedly readying the Calvary for an ill-advised invasion of Iran. this came from the mouth of one of the test proctors, whose pheremones were less than about mating and totally pinning on creepy. remember that guy from Terminator two? The one who assumes the form of whatever he knocks off? This guy looked a bit like him.

Well I hope you are enjoying my discombobulated musings. Expect more of this in the future.

Nayr76

A sense of place: My habitat experience People often identify with their dwelling as a sense of place, comfort and essentially, identity. He dare and his large family of 7 wonderful children soon shall have something to be proud of: safe, adequate organized and proper housing. Despite he and his wife working long hours, a good place to hang their hat together as a family unit had eluded them. While we did assist with a lot of the labor, it was his daughter's courage to get her parents to accept candidacy as a Habitat homeowner that got the ball rolling, and they deserve the chance, maybe as much as anyone. While it would be presumptuous to assume pride and take significant credit for the nearly complete house, all 14 team members from across the JET spectrum did as much as they could to help the cause. Several members used up all their remaining paid leave, others sent in significant amounts of hard-earned funds, vital for sending more Japan-based teams to places in need. All of us should feel a great accomplishment, and be humble at the same time. He dari's struggle continues, but I feel we all helped a bit, more so the Kuching-based volunteers, to at least make the burden for him lighter. The time we spent sweltering and dripping in the hot, unforgiving Malaysian sun will always be a fond memory. We should feel lucky that such an environment can easily be changed by hopping a plane and whooshing away to points we ourselves determine. I certainly enjoyed my first HH build, and I plan on participating in more. Thanks for the others on the team that helped with their humor, support and all else, company. Sweat equity as a principal is a well thought out way to really assist the marginalized folks around the world, eh?

Please let me begin by beggin your, my loyal readership, pardon by my absence of several months. A lot has happened so let me first skim the surface.

I am still "teaching" though this gravy train is getting a little tiresome. I need to better ajust myself to a method mixing acceptance of my fate and somehow at the same climb out of the pit of career-less ness I have cast myself into.

Words of encourgement, free business class upgrades, manufacturers' coupons, cash money and offers of employment are most welcome and undoubtedly appreciated.

I embarked upon a culinary magic carpet ride that is Borneo in late march, and overall I am planning to get back there. I have to bea realistic and admit I have other place to see for the first time but if I had to choose to be sent to say, Borneo over, erm, anywhere in the so-called Axis of Evil I certainly wouldn't be an unhappy punter. Although, I have heard gossip that those Yemenites make a mean maitai.

Fruits, or glorious fruits: My favorite Borneo tasties were Jackfruit as well as the snake fruit, which honestly resembles a hand grenade than a snake. And then I ate my first custard apple, which was better than the breakfast I puked up all over the ferry on my honeymoon. No, my sea legs aren't steady as she goes.

I've decided to enroll in an online travel writing class, so I will post my creations here, so you can all sit back and after reading them you can promptly thank yourselves that you have:

A: a car or at worst, a bicycle
B: made some progress on an early retirement.
C: more than 20 days paid leave

A short note on the latest from the Japanese media: There was this show I watched last week that highlights odd news from the dangerous non-Japanese sphere. The host travelled to South Carolina to gamble on cow bingo. The short version: Pay five dollars for a spot on the grid, and if a cow craps on your grip, you hit paydirt. Odd? Well yes, but according to talkshow pundits here, this poo gambling can be found occuring in every town, berg and shire across the lower 48. Aren't generalizations great?

Will get some more stuff up later this week.
PS the new backpacking stove passed its first test by successfully boiling its first beer brats.

Tokyo Banana: The Oriental Twinkie


mmm...Tokyo Banana cake.

No other souviner comes close from the megaopolis that is Tokyu.

The filling, it appears is based on banana, or so it would seem as the one I gobbled down yesterday had banana colorant and natural banana flavor.

While mascot-less, this little yellow zinger is top of the filled-spongecake genre, I think.

And whilst I write this, that poor sap Twinkie the Kid (a cartoon mascot of Hostess, maker of Twinkies, Cupcakes, Snoballs and so on...) sheds a partially hydrogenated tear of jealousy. But never fear, as TTK is off again on his quest to fatten the fattest of the fatties, lassoing them in at discount bakery outlets, convienence stores and supermarket aisles nationwide.

Here is what the Tokyo Banana has written on its wrapper:

"Peope gather to Tokyo from here and there with memories of their home. And then, Tokyo gets everyone's home town. Tokyo Banana."

I wonder, would a green tea-flavoured Twinkie catch on in Japan?

arthritic pigs riddled with kleenex packs...

Yep, that's right. yesterday i saw a high school student, frsh out of her University admissions exam at Kobe's Konan Daigaku, get a pack of tissues from a hawker, and then she threw it at a pair of graying, feeble wild boar who were foraging in broad daylight (rare, as they are nocturnal) in a nearby "riverbed" which is basically a concrete channel used for flood control. The "river" was strewn with litter and nasties tossed there, we must assume by the future of Japan, whom are imbedded with neither a proprt concept of how to act when they see non-human life or any sort of guilt for ruining an ugly ugly cityscape called Okamoto, Japan.

I have recieved some stamps in the mail. You see, one cannot buy US postage in Japan. (Military folks can, but I am not among that populous). As I age, stamps excite me more and more. Nayr now professes to be chotto geekish. One might say why do you need American stamps in Japan? Well the one-penny onesmake great, and undeniably cheap, prizes at school. The higher values will end up on envelopes containing my hopeful future bounty of query letters, manuscripts, and perhaps, even screenplays.

Now that I mentioned movies, last night a few of us native speakers watched a film festival in Osaka.
One of the features was about a middle aged chemist who flucks shute up when he releases nylon bombs upon the helpess Iowans. Now, while not as shiny, being turned into nylon is a fate so far removed from that old James Bond flick, Goldfinger, whom spray-painted his victims gold.

The nylon bomb film was part of the Osaka PressPlay Film Festival. Another entrant was Keisha versus Geishia, imagining that fraternal twins were brought up in the parallel worlds of south central Los Angeles and Tokyo. I put their production costs at a sum not exceeding three digits. All the entries were naturally good fun.

I have to return to my usual blob of urgent business.

News from the archives

I had these old, yellowing clips of newsprint and thought that I would share them with you.

#1. From a 2003 Reuters wire found in the Korea Herald:

"Chubby suspect outpaces police"

SYDNEY- A chubby, barefoot Australian man outran police on Wednesday when he bolted through security gates left open at the back of a court he was being led into, officials said.
Security footage showed the overweight man dashing down a back lane in central Sydney pursued by at least four police and prison guards, two of whom tripped over while giving chase. Asked how an overweight, barefoot man had outrun police, inspector Peter Thorne said: "I don't know, I wasn't here."

# 2 from the Japan Times
"International Energy Agency: China 2nd largest CO2 emitter"

The article is very long. The headlines tells the gist. So now 1/7 of global pollution can be traced to China. Now that is the mark of modernization and progress!

Between 1990 and 2002 China's CO2 gas output increased 44.5%.

America, according to the IEA, lays claim to 23% of global carbon dioxide emissions, followed by Russia (6.2%, Japan 5%, India 4.2% Canada 2.2%, Britain 2.2%, Korea 1.9% and France 1.8%)

Troubling news for us, living next to China...

#3 from the China Post: "Malaysian volunteers to harass illegals"

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, AP

"More than half a million civilian volunteers will be given the power to arrest illegal immigrants next year, local media reported Friday, despite fears such a move would encourage vigilantism and undermine the law... The government has said illegal immigrants detained from the beginning of 2005 risk being whipped with a rattan cane, fined and jailed before being deported...Most of Malaysia's illegal immigrants are employed in the construction, plantation and domestic service sectors."

Well the article goes on to say that an amnesty program to let illegal workers become legitimate employees only reigned in "about 109,000 of the estimated 1.2 million illegal workers in Malaysia" So, now the price is upped, via a rattan cane. This plan is definitely a shout out to the globe to the friendliness Malaysia shows to its at-risk working poor labor force!

Formosan Notes and Anecdotes cleaning out my desk I stumbled across all the things I wrote down on my 8 days there. Things I ate in Taiwan Bean and shrimp cake. Not a big hit in my book Guava Juice: packaged and fresh. Bubble tea: Pearl tea with tapioca balls. One of the coolest drinks, huge amount that lasted for three servings, all for 25 NT$ or about 80 cents. Egg and rice paper omelet: yumms President Papaya Milk: neon orange but a frothy texture that tickled me tongue. Fun notes from a trip to the Museum Of Contemporary Art in Taipei: A room called "foam space" which, was indeed, a room with an obvious void and foam flooring. 3-D butterflies that really made me lose my balance. A stroll on bundles of newspapers set on end. There must have been a few year's worth of newsprint. A room where everything was made of sculpted wire. It made me feel fat. The best part about the MOCA is that it is housed in a brick building which sports a clock tower and some commendable shrubbery. I took a bus and that was fun because in the seatback there was old school Nintendo, and as the bus droned northward from Puli to Taipei I enjoyed a good stint of Mario Bros and 1942. In almost every town there were roast duck restaurants, and inevitably the head cook was an old man smoking a lazy-ashed ciggie while preparing people's dinners. In Puri I went to this noodle shop the hotel's concierge recommended and ended up being the culture ambassador. They even let me sign the wall of the place. It specialized in ginger tofu and beef spareribs, which were fabulous. The owner's granny had lived in Japan before WW2 so he played me Sakura on his guitar and I talked to his son in English. In the Taipei train station, I went to Mos Burger, which was at the early hour of 6:45 a.m. open and ready for business. Nothing like a rice and beef burger to get the juices flowing! At this place called "Let's tasty. Let's Enjoy!" in Tainan, I had a good asparagus thing topped off with a triangle of this lemon stuff. A mix between a popsicle and cheesecake. then I went to a bar and they were playing Anne Murray. Then a Heiniken-clad girl bugged me. But that I have already written about. More than a few times I noticed Taiwanese fighter jets screaming overhead. Usually, they timed it so when I was having a zen moment inside a temple the place began to shake and tremble as the jets (sans mufflers) did low-altitude sweeps across the island. at this one temple in Tainan, Fahuah Temple, the guard dog was rather menacing, at least until I left the temple grounds. The site itself is cool, and a long time ago the sea lapped at the temple's periphery, but in modern times creative development and canal-making have sent the sea back several kilometers to the west. Warner cinemas are all over Taiwan and many are 24-hours. I have never seen such hours being kept. Well, at legit and all-ages theatres, anyway... One of the many joys, I found, on my inaugural venture into business class travel, is the lounge which offers clean toilets, all the bear you can guzzle, free international phone calls, and a nice window to watch the planes get clean, stocked and all prettied up. And the experience of being served steak on real plates, oh the service. I get teary thinking about my inevitable return to economy class. All over Taiwan one can find Japanese chains such as Kohiken, Yoshinoya and Mos Burger. Even the bakeries are Japanese. But I am a Starbucks fan if for nothing else, their policy of no smoking seems to be worldwide, Taiwan being no exception. I got to see a wicked taxi-moped collision and actually no blood was spilled and they really didn't get that angry. I was impressed. Also, I had a deaf taxi driver once, or at least he had those tubes in his ears like many deaf people did. But to his credit he was the the safest and slowest taxi driver I hired the whole week. For anyone going to Taiwan I recommend the performing arts center called Taipei Eye hands-down. It is like 880NT$ but so cool and the performers are soo adorable and skilled. note transcription complete. ---------------- This is an ad I found in the Taipei Times newspaper: "Erotic sensual transvestite. Business English translation. Personal painting design!" then, in the same ad it states: Gentle oil smoothing theyapy." Then, a number for Nina/Mark. I guess it depends on the time of day as to what you get, either Nina or Mark. That is one diversified Portfolio! ----------------