Zombie Mannequin Holocaust

I often cycle in the hills outside of town. Like anywhere else in the world, "Hill People" tend to differ quite a bit from their townie brethren. Old cars blend with vines to become nesting grounds for God knows what, neglected kittens abound, and the homes are a little worse for wear. Even something as common-place as a scare crow-mannequin, may take on a frightening twist.

Look at that thing! It looks leperous. What happened to its fingers? Bitten off by another creature of the night no doubt. Let us hope that they don't become day walkers.

The Triumphant Return of Extraordinarily Ordinary

When you first arrive in a foreign country, you go through a honey moon sort of period where everything is extraordinary and little bad can be found. With time, a routine sets in and with it, the reality that every place has it's flaws. Those unique facets of life in Japan become mundane, easily passed over. The digi cam, the one you bought in Japan because this country supposedly has the best electronics on Earth (true, but all can be bought for the same or cheaper in the States), becomes tragically underused.

As I ready myself for greener pastures outside of Japan, the mundane has suddenly become novel yet again. If you don't believe me, look at the recent posts. Mannequin scare crows, gyoza.......no, I'm not bored, just nostalgic. I want to take a tangible record of the little things back home with me, something to look at down the road. So, I hereby launch part 1 in what is sure to be a half-assed series of Japan through the eyes of a confused foreign.

Behold! The effects of a shamelessly commercial society hopped up on a language they don't really understand:

Left- T-Shirt. I've heard a similar line used about Jesus. Instead, we here in Japan embrace Mule. He's just as good as Jesus and will carry your pack if you get tired while hiking the Grand Canyon.

Below- Hooded Sweatshirt. No comment needed due to a 10/10 rating on the bizareness scale.

Pencil Case. This is so cool I had to post the picture twice. Owned by an 8th grader who I'm sure doesn't smoke weed, nor even know what it is. I've seen senior citizens wearing sweatshirts covered with pot leaves here. Complete ignorance makes for trendy fashion I guess. Other great pencil cases that I've seen have said, "Your pretty face is going to hell", "When I die, bury face down so that the world can kiss my ass", and "Man made booze, God made weed.....who do you trust?". All belonged to junior high students who had no idea what their pencil case slogans meant. Classic Japan.

Eight Bites of Heaven

Not far from where I live, in snack bar-infested Takeo, sits Japan's closest equivalent to America's once ubiquitous greasy spoon diner: Gyoza Kaikan. You'll smell it before you see it, a result of vapors that can only come from the incessant boiling of pork broth. Though it's repugnant, that aroma signals the presence of delicious ramen. As the name suggests,this particular ramen shop, with its fading 1970s decor and beaten-looking staff, serves up more than just ramen. In fact, it's specialty is actually something called gyoza, pork dumplings that originated in China but have long been popular in Japan. Price and quality vary, but the Takeo shop seems to dominant both categories. Eight bites of heaven, which are much plumper than their contemporaries, cost a mere 350 yen, or about $3.05.

A plate of seven gyoza...the eighth was acting up and had to be made an example of.

For anyone who gets lost while traveling in Japan, ending up in Saga-ken's Takeo-cho, Gyoza Kaikan is located near the snack bar complex along the yet to be completed bullet train line. If you get to that area but still can't find it, follow the incongruous scent of boiling ramen 'til you hit the jack pot.

Oita Trip

Myself, Seb, and four members of my adult English club, aptly named "MEET" (Meet and Enjoy English Together.....classic), went on a brief excursion to nearby Oita-ken last month. Oita, along with neighboring Kumamoto, is home to Kuju-Aso National Park. It's not a national park in the western sense as it's hardly protected; there are towns, ranches, and farms within the "protected" area. Still, it's quite scenic and is has some of the best hot springs in Japan, which in turn would put it in the running for best hot springs world wide. We also indulged in a mid-day chicken bbq, some ground golf (I suck!), a visit to a natural spring, and an old-school soba shop that allowed us to make our own wasabi.

They say (and I've yet to learn who "they" are) that a picture is worth a thousand words. Why fight conventional wisdom by verbose narration? Without further adeu, here are some shots of our wonderful time.

Grass Sledding, hokey, but fun.

Hiking on the trail to Kuju-san, the tallest mountain in Kyushu Proper

Horse meat butcher shop: This is a local delicassie, and I've got to say, I think it's delicious. The horse meat, called "basashi" (a compound of "ba" for horse plus "sashimi", as in sushi served without rice) is served raw and eaten with ginger and soy sauce. I'd liken it to cold pastrami, though not as spicy.

Group Shot: Front bench - Hiromi and Seb

Rear bench - Harasaki-san, Mabro, Kawachan, and Me (not sure why I look so stern...)