Lucky 13

We reached the trailhead at 11:00 p.m. I was struck by the loud, large generators at the bottom. Later, I would learn they powered vending machines. I was ready to go to sleep. Groups of young hikers with flashlights encouraged each other with unison shouts of "gambatte!" before heading up the trail. Even at night, I was still broiling hot in my jeans and it didn't seem possible it would be cool anywhere, even on a mountain top. The sky was clear and I saw shooting stars. I picked up a brochure that I couldn't resist including in my novel.

From American Fuji, ch. 38: "The map was half in English, half in Japanese. Mount Fuji was divided into ten levels, or stations. The parking lot was at the fifth level; Alex had already accomplished half the ascent in the taxi. Only foot traffic could continue through the higher stations on the Fujinomiya Trails. The map included stations labeled "Station 9.5" and "New Checkpoint," that augmented the original stations, so the 3,776-meter summit was the 13th actual station, though it was called the tenth."* This makes sense when you're in Japan.

The 13 stations gave me the idea of doing 13 blogs about climbing Mt. Fuji. Anyway, 13 has always been a lucky number for me.

*Quoted with minor snips by permission from myself.

Stroke Count Matters

The following day we had barely recovered from our hangovers when it was time to take the train to Fujinomiya station. Because we were doing it Japanese-style, which meant hiking at nighttime in order to greet the sunrise at the top, we took the train in the afternoon and had dinner in Fujinomiya. Veronica and I are attempting to be "human kanji." The first three characters on the sign read FU-JI-YAMA. The FU was too complicated to mimic, so I am posing as YAMA and Veronica as the JI. Yes, we are out of order. When I wrote kanji, my stroke count was usually out of order, too. Stroke count is a big deal in Japan.

I Left My Heart Where?

Of course, when you drink too much beer in Japan, you inevitably end up singing karaoke with total strangers. The Japanese man between me and Eric worked for NTT, and the song we sang was I refuto mai haato in San Furanshisuko ("I Left My Heart in San Francisco"). It was one of three English songs on the playlist. The others were Hei Jiyudo ("Hey, Jude") and Raabu Mi Tendaa ("Love Me Tender"). Tony, Paul, and Elvis were still the top English karaoke hits in 1991 in Shizuoka.

The First Sip Is the Best

Perhaps I drank too much beer. What can I say? The day was hot and the beer was cold. By the empty chairs, you can tell we were the first customers, arriving before the end of the work day.

Traditional Beer

I decided to climb Mt. Fuji the traditional Japanese way. That meant starting by rounding up friends and getting drunk. I imported my good friends from Okinawa, Eric Shaffer (L) and Veronica Winegarner (far R). They are married but that posed no problem for the adventure. I'm in the middle to the left of my friend and colleague Shigeko. We're at a beer garden on the roof of a downtown Shizuoka hotel. A typical miserably humid overcast day that I describe often in American Fuji.

Aiming High

On a rare clear day, this is what I could see from my front balcony. The clay tile roof is the local branch of a bank. As Mr. Eguchi said (ch. 37): "Feet on the ground, head in the clouds. That is the way to be."

I vowed to climb to the summit of Mt. Fuji (12,388 ft.) before I left Japan. Thus begins the saga of my ascent.

Tanabata: the Star Festival

Tanabata is my favorite Japanese holiday and American Fuji is my version of the Tanabata story. Tanabata, or the Star Festival (July 7th), celebrates the story of two lovers, a cowherd (represented by the star Altair) and a weaver (Vega) who are separated by the Milky Way and allowed to meet only once a year, on the 7th day of the 7th month. People writes wishes on strips of paper and hang them on bamboo branches. If the night sky is clear enough to see the two stars, your wish may come true.

Here is my wish this year, folded into a crane as Gaby folded her wish. I don't have bamboo--or Gaby's tomato plants--so I hung it in my lilac. I am wishing for grants or fellowships to help me take some time off to write another novel. With our current heat wave, I doubt the sky will be clear, but here's hoping!

Dragon Beer and Banana Champagne

This was my local liquor store in Shizuoka. I was charmed by the crumpled Bud can sign, but Budweiser cost more than it was worth due to the import costs and currency exchange. I tried all the Japanese beers, and my favorite soon became Kirin Original. Good wine was beyond my budget, but drinkable French reds could be found on the back shelves. In the 1990's the popular drinks were icky-sweet wine coolers, and weird combinations that mixed champagne with flavors like melon or banana. I tried banana champagne. Once. I decided Banana Champagne would be a good alias for a Japanese character in a novel, but I did not end up using it in American Fuji.

Pink Peonies for Gaby

Here are pink peonies from my garden this week in honor of the ones Alex sent to Gaby for putting up with him as her o-nimotsu (luggage, or obligation guest).

Just because Japanese take obligations seriously doesn't mean they enjoy them any more than Americans do. What Americans often don't realize is how much help they need from Japanese people to negotiate Japan, and the extent of time so many sacrifice to assist guests in their country.

Enter to win a signed copy of American Fuji in the June Giveaway! See May 15 post for details.

My Favorite Fan

In American Fuji, Gaby Stanton carried a fan in her purse all the time. The purple one she used at the race track (Chapter 21) was a temple souvenir, a fan I also owned but which has since disappeared. I still have my favorite fan (pictured) which is made of sandalwood. This was a gift from a good friend who also taught me how to wear a thin hand towel discreetly around my neck in sweltering Japanese summers ( p.229).

Enter to win a signed copy of American Fuji in the June Giveaway! See May 15 post for details.

After Dark

The semester has choked out its last death throes and, during our record-breaking heat wave, I hunkered down in the basement with Haruki Murakami's novel After Dark. A friend of mine finds Murakami's novels "tiring" and I can agree with that, but this one is short and highly readable. I like it because it inhabits the same Japan I knew (and put in American Fuji): a world of Denny's, Skylarks, love hotels, and parks with sections for stray cats. While some may accuse the plot of being coincidental, I find coincidence to be part of the wonder of Japan. The society, and language itself, are about relationships, not the chronological march of progress and individual achievement characteristic of American novels. I recommend it as a companion to American Fuji.

P. S. Today, my birthday brings a full moon worthy of Eguchi's "Moon Package" dream. A good day to enter the American Fuji Giveaway (see below).

Sakura New England

My own cherry tree in bloom. If I were in Japan, businessmen would be drinking beer and sake on blankets beneath it with a karaoke machine blaring. I just finished reading "A Blanket of Cherry Blossom" from The Walking Man by graphic writer Jiro Taniguchi. The Japan he draws is the Japan I knew--his streets could have been Shizuoka City. I'm so impressed by the depth of this short episode, and how much Taniguchi conveys through point of view and the gesture of the man putting his hand on the "blanket" of fallen cherry petals.

University Snakes

This paragraph in American Fuji was taken straight from my life, describing my climb up the hillside of the university campus:

"As [Alex and Michael] ascended the hill, the buildings were fewer and the steps got narrower, until they could no longer walk side by side. Alex hiked behind Michael up a path shaded by cherry trees full of whirring insects. Smashed cherries and pits underfoot forced him to keep his eyes on the ground. A brown snake slithered off the path into wild grass." (p. 67)

I miss the natural wildness of that campus, especially when lawn mowing at my current university not only spews grass pollen into everyone's sinuses but drowns out class discussions. (And I prefer to have campus snakes be literal rather than figurative, but that's off topic.)

Smack Kibble

I'm sure kittens get addicted to this Japanese cat food brand!

Looking back at these old Shizuoka photos, I notice other things, now. Like how tall I am in relation to the ceiling. In the U. S., we're used to supermarkets with high ceilings. In Japan, a ceiling is typically 8 feet from the floor, but this one was about 7 feet, the minimum building code requirement, I believe. No problem getting items off the top shelves!