Hiroshima

(PICTURE: Someone's watch which stopped the moment the Atomic Bomb was dropped.)

As an American, it would have been irresponsible not to visit Hiroshima during my time in Japan. When I told some Japanese people I was going there on my travels, they often questioned why I would go so far away just to see Hiroshima. I would always be honest and say that I wanted to visit the Atomic Bomb Museum. This usually got an, “I understand” reaction of some sort.

I arrived in Hiroshima at 3PM and decided it was too late to go to the museum since it closed at five and I didn’t want to feel rushed. Instead, I checked into my hostel and went for a walk. I was pretty tired from a long bus ride and had planned on only taking a small stroll around the city. After a few minutes I saw a park in the distance and thought it would be a good place to relax and read a book. Plus, the park was up a hill so I assumed it would give me a good vantage point to look over Hiroshima.

It turns out that at the top of the park was the Hiroshima Modern Art Museum. The museum was going to close in forty five minutes so I didn’t bother to go in. Instead I just wandered around and looked at the outdoor exhibitions. Immediately one sculpture –or I should say a lot of sculptures—caught my eye.

My gut instinct new right away that the sculpture was about the Atomic Bomb dropping on Hiroshima. I wasn’t 100% sure but it looked to me like a whole bunch of human torsos melting. I couldn’t find a placard for the piece until after I walked around them. It was called "Hiroshima: Space of Becalmed Beings."

I stared at the sculptures for a couple of minutes as the sun set behind them. In the distance, the city of Hiroshima went about its business below. A hollow, eerie feeling began to form in my stomach as I thought of how 64 years ago the city was eviscerated by one bomb. I soaked in this thought as I left the museum grounds and passed a bunch of elderly Japanese people talking on the park pathway. The people I saw were definitely of the age to have been alive when the first Atomic Bomb was dropped and I assumed they were probably living somewhere near Hiroshima when it happened. One thing that I have learned in Japan is that Japanese people, especially elderly people, are very territorial about where they are born. Most people spend the majority of their lives in the same place that they were raised. There was little doubt in my mind these senior citizens had personal stories to tell about August 6th, 1945.

I was feeling pretty depressed as I took a meandering route back to my hostel. On one street I passed, I saw a little alley that had about ten tiny restaurants inside of it. Each restaurant was probably only twenty feet long and seven feet deep. There was only counter service and from what I could tell, only locals eating inside of each place. I wasn’t hungry but decided that I would come back in a couple of hours.

A few hours later I went back to the alley and tried to go to the restaurant that looked the best to me. Fortunately there was no room for me since it was filled to the max with eight people already. Instead of waiting, I went to the next busiest restaurant. When I opened the sliding door and took a seat everybody inside looked shocked and erupted with laughter. Clearly a few drinks had already been had, as they should have been; it was Christmas Eve.

(PICTURE: From left to right: the owner/cook/bartender, her daughter, her son-in-law, a regular patron, the local biology teacher.)

One of the people inside the restaurant was a fifty-ish year old Biology teacher who had spent some time in America. This is to say, his English was pretty good. Over the next couple of hours everyone inside the restaurant befriended me. Each costumer who came brought a bottle of wine to celebrate Christmas. It didn’t take me long to realize that this tiny restaurant was like a real life Cheers. Everybody literally knew everybody’s name. I was the only stranger. From what I could piece together, all the men who came into the restaurant were middle aged and single and in love with the divorced owner/chef/bartender. Most of the men came every single night to eat and drink and talk with Miwah, the owner.

Those facts came pretty quickly. What took longer to figure out was that this was not a Japanese restaurant. The owner and her daughter and son-in-law were all of Korean descent (I will post soon about what it means to be Korean in Japan). I had gone to the restaurant for a quick bite but ended up being there for over four hours. By the end of the night everyone was drunk and Pec (the son-in-law) and I were best of friends. We were like a match made in heaven: we’re both 30, play defense in soccer and we like beer and sake. I think for the last hour that I was in the restaurant Pec had his arm around my shoulder and told me a hundred times that he liked me. And the truth is, I really liked him too.

When it was finally time to leave, Pec asked me what I would be doing the next day. I told him my plan to go to the Atomic Bomb Museum and he mentioned to me that, “My Grandma is in a video at the museum.” Immediately this sobered me up and a thousand questions went through my mind. Pec elaborated -- as much as a non-English speaker can elaborate -- that his Grandma was interviewed by the museum about her experience on August 6th, 1945. I asked Pec to write down his Grandma’s name and vowed to watch her video the next day at the museum. I also promised everyone I would come back the following night to eat and drink with them again.

The next morning I woke up early, rented a bicycle and headed towards Peace Park and the Atomic Bomb Museum. The museum wasn’t open yet so I rode around Peace Park, looking at the different memorials, including the Atomic Bomb Dome.

(PICTURE: This early morning photo shows the modern skyline behind it.)

(PICTURE: This picture shows the dome and the area shortly after the bombing.)

The same thought kept coming into my head: how could a whole city disappear in a flash. It is one thing to study about World War II and the atomic bomb, it is another to stand on the spot below where the bomb was detonated while looking at buildings and civilians all around you. Lets not forget that the majority of people who died in Hiroshima were civilians. This really hits home when you see there were a few schools in close vicinity of where the bomb was dropped.

Eventually when the museum opened, I was one of the first people inside. I looked over the exhibits with a careful, skeptical eye, expecting the displays to have a pro-Japanese angle. There is a controversial museum in Tokyo that honors Japanese war dead and talks about how the USA basically forced Japan into bombing Pearl Harbor. At the Atomic Bomb Museum the exhibits were honest about how Japan attacked America. From reading the exhibits though and seeing the pictures many questions formulated in my head. I’m not a World War II scholar by any means but these are some things I began to ask myself:

1. Was the Atomic Bomb absolutely necessary? Would Japan have eventually surrendered with the continued fire bombing campaign that was already so effective in decimating the country?

2. Even if the argument is made for Hiroshima, did we really need to drop a second bomb on Nagasaki or was that simply a knee jerk power-play reaction to Russia declaring war on Japan? My gut tells me it was sadly the later.

There was also a lot of new information about the atomic bomb dropping that I never remember learning in school. For example, one reason American chose Hiroshima was because there were supposedly no Allied POWs in the city. They were wrong. Allied POWs were also victims of the bombing. Furthermore, thousands of Koreans and Chinese were killed in the bombing who were in Hiroshima doing forced labor. And this brings us back to Pec's Grandma:

I walked around the museum searching for a video with Pec's Grandma. There were only a few videos in the whole museum and none had his Grandma in them. I felt like a failure as I came to the end of the museum when right by the exit were a few video booths with personal testimonials of people's experiences. Immidietly I found Pec's Grandma and videotaped the first twenty seconds or so to show him:

Pec's Grandma was 15 km from where the bomb was dropped. Both of her children died from the bomb. Her husband died a week later from the radiation.

My stomach dropped when I watched this video and well, I felt like total shit. The night before, the grandson of a woman whose whole innocent family was killed by Americans had befriended me. Let me emphasize again: they were not only civilians but they were forced laborers. I sat watching this video and felt a strange daze come over me. I got up and ended up writing a short essay in a book by the exit that was placed there to record people's reactions.

Later that night I went back to the restaurant as promised. I told Pec that I saw his Grandma and asked him a couple of questions. After the war his Grandma remarried and had more children. Pec is the Grandson of that remarriage.

I've got to say, this was one of the saddest experiences I've ever had. However, there is some good to be seen from this. I think it is pretty amazing that two people can sit together and become friends despite the terrible past that links them.

Japan does not have any nuclear weapons and they are the foremost country on pushing towards a nuclear-free world. The Atomic Bomb and nuclear weapons were initially justified as a deterrent that would eventually end wars and cause peace in the world. We now know this is not how it turned out. The world needs to stop developing technologies that are aimed at destroying one another. Yes, this is a huge and perhaps naive statement. However, today is December 31st and there is a new year ahead. Lets all vow to try to be a little nicer to one another this year and do what we can to end conflict in the world.

Here's a start: Sign this online petition for CANT (Cities Are Not Targets). If everyone who reads my blog signs this that will be people speaking up from over one hundred nations. The more voices heard, the better...

https://www.ssl-hiroins.city.hiroshima.jp/pcf/en/form.htm

Happy New Year! I hope 2010 bring health and happiness for everyone!

Ben

Osaka Okonomiyaki vs. Hiroshima Okonomiyaki

There is a great debate in Japan: Osaka Okonomiyaki or Hiroshima Okonomiyaki.

You may recall that a couple of months ago I wrote a post about okonomiyaki. What I didn't include in the post, although I had heard grumblings of it at the time, is that every Japanese person has their own preference on which style of okonomiyaki they like. The big difference in style is that in Hiroshima they make the dish with soba noodles mixed in. In Osaka there are no noodles. Sure, sure, sure, that doesn't sound like a big deal but trust me it is. In Japan, choosing your okonomiyaki is like saying you prefer Chicago pizza over New York Pizza or vice versa.

Since I was traveling to both cities, I decided to put my two cents in this classic debate. When I arrived to Osaka I asked a local where the best okonomiyaki place was. She didn't just tell me, she took out a book, showed me and then photocopied the page so I could find it when traveling around the city.

After getting close to the restaurant I had to ask directions a couple of times. The places was located in like an underground city of restaurant that happened to be under a major railway line. I'm usually golden with finding places but this one was tricky since the address said it was on the second floor. It was on the second floor but the door to it was on the first floor. When I finally found the door at 11:40 AM-ish there was already a line. The place didn't open until noon. When twelve finally came around I was the sixth person out of about 30 in line.

I took my place at the bar and watched in awe as the chef took everyone's order and simultaneously prepared nine okonomiyaki (I don't know the plural but am treating it like deer or beer) at one time. The okoniyaki was delicious despite my brain telling me it was the single most unhealthy thing I have ever eaten. It had bacon, mayo, eggs and a few other things that I'm sure my cardiologist in 2045 will tell me never to eat again.

CONTESTANT #2: Hiroshima Okonomiyaki

I arrived in Hiroshima with the name and address of an okonomiyaki place in my hand. When I was in Nara I met a guy from Hiroshima who insisted he had the single best okonomiyaki place in the city. We pulled up mapquest and he pointed out roughly where the restaurant was. He told me four things about this restaurant:
1. It was way off the beaten path.
2. It was run by an old woman.
3. The okonomiyaki was huge there.
4. The okonomiyaki was only 550 Yen.

When I arrived at my hostel in Hiroshima I asked the girl working the counter if she had ever heard of the place. She said no and that there was no okonomiyaki restaurant in all of Hiroshima that sold okonomiyaki for 550 Yen.

Well, I found the place and the guy didn't lie to me. There was an old woman who was the only person working there:

The woman looked very surprised to see me when I walked in the door. Clearly foreigners don't go to this place. She looked even more surprised when I showed her the paper I had been carrying in my wallet. The paper had my order on it and she got cooking. Ten minutes later I ate a huge, delicious, soba noodle filled savory pancake:

(PICTURE: Please note that the finished Okonomiyaki picture is actually the one with the old woman in it. This picture was about five minutes and 3,000 calories from being done.)
The winner by unanimous decision: Hiroshima.

Oh, and New York pizza is way better than Chicago pizza.

Kobe in Kobe

Dream do come true. This picture you're looking at is of Kobe beef. And yes, like the title of this post gives away, I ate this delicious meat in Kobe.

Kobe beef is legendary in America. Once in a while you see it on a menu, think about ordering it, double check the price isn't a typo, and then get the Filet Mignon instead. I've actually heard -- and I'm sure I could google to find out if this is true -- that Kobe in America isn't really "Kobe." I'm using the quotes because supposedly American Kobe doesn't come from Kobe. Perhaps it is raised the same way but it isn't 100% Kobe. Even if that isn't true it doesn't really matter because the fact remains: Kobe in America is not Kobe in Kobe.

First off, I owe a big thank you to my friend MyongFa (she is second from the left, top row in this picture) who hooked me up with her friend Kim in Kobe. Kim is not only smart, beautiful, speaks perfect English and works in FILM (we had lots to talk about) but the best thing about her is that her mom owns a Kobe beef restaurant!!!! Kim, like MyongFa is Korean (I will have a post soon about what it means to be Korean in Japan) and the restaurant was a Korean Kobe beef shop.

(PICTURE: Kim at the restaurant. She cut the beef, cooked the beef and ate it with me. Best friend of a friend to meet ever!)

I'm not a food writer by any means but the best I can describe the taste of the Kobe was by the first sounds I made. I think they were in this order: "Ohhhhhh. Oh my. Ohhhhhh. That is, oh god." Yup, it sounded a lot like when I lost my virginity but the pleasure probably lasted twice as long. Kim looked at me and said, "It melts in your mouth, right?" I nodded and quickly let another melt in my mouth. No exaggeration, this was the best meat I have ever eaten in my life and definitely in the top 3 meals I have ever had. When I got back to my hostel that night I emailed my father and brother, regretting to inform them that I had a beef dinner that topped Peter Lugers in Brooklyn. My dad has yet to write me back.

One funny story that Kim told me: Kim's son -- the ridiculously cute kid next to me in the picture above -- has grown up eating only Kobe beef since he spends so much time around the restaurant. Well, Kim told me that one time her family was out to eat somewhere and they ordered beef. Her son put the beef in his mouth, gave it a couple of chews and then spit it out. He told his mother, "There's something wrong with this beef." Yeah, there was something wrong with it -- it wasn't Kobe.

Murphy's Law in Nara

(NOTE: This post was written right after I finished my day but delayed on posting.)


(PICTURE: Me in front of Todaiji Temple which houses a big bronze Buddha.)

I just finished a great day in Nara. This place is way more my style then Kyoto. Nara has a small city feel yet is packed with history and nature. There's literally temples and deer around every corner.


(PICTURE: One of over 1,000 deer roaming around the temples and parks of Nara.)


(PICTURE: More deer. No culling!)

But enough about temples and deer already. This blog is about me and a dozen naked old men.

It was freezing today and I wanted to warm up after riding my bike all day. The people at my guest house told me there was a sento around the corner. The girl at my guesthouse said this sento was "very Japanese."

I should say here that a sento is a public bath. It is like an onsen except not natural hot water and not as nice. This was my first sento/onsen solo experience and of course Murphy's Law came into play. Let me do the highlights:

(PICTURE: This sento is a 1,000 X's nicer than the one I went to. It is a good example of showing many types of baths on the left though.)

Murphy's Law #1: Let me back track. Yesterday in Kyoto I took a shower without any shampoo or soap. I left my shampoo and soap in Koryama because I had read on the internet that my hostel had free shampoo and soap. I mixed up which hostel had these things and it turns out it wasn't my one in Kyoto. So no big deal, I just felt a little greasy. I actually half decided to go to the sento because I wanted to really scrub off. Well, turns out this was the first sento/onsen I have been to that doesn't have free shampoo and soap. I started to shower with only water and got lots of looks from all the men in the bath house. Yeah, they thought I was as dirty as I thought I was. Actually I probably thought I was dirtier since I knew I hadn't used soap in probably 36 hours.

Murphy's Law #2: The bath house was tiny. There was one person working there, a cashier when you first came in. The cashier's position was perfectly situated to look into both the boys and girls locker rooms. So, yeah, I got naked with an 70 year old Grandma staring at my hairy ass.

Murphy's Law #3: The 70 year old woman was the closest person in age to me. Every man in the bath was at least 80. I would have bet that at least half served in World War II.

Murphy's Law #4: Whenever you go to a bath house there is a shower that you sit at to clean yourself. At the shower is a big bowl that you use to wash off with. Well, like normal, I sat down at a shower with a bowl in front of it. I looked at the bowl though and there was a washcloth in it. Clearly someone was using this one. An old man pointed at me and then pointed to the corner. I thought he was banishing me to shower alone (I have nooooo problem with this). I quickly got up, said sorry, washed off the seat I had just sat on bar-assed and then went to the corner to shower. After about thirty seconds the old man waved me back over and gestured for me to bring my bowl.

Murphy's Law #5: After relaxing in a citrus bath (basically a bath with two huge bags of oranges in it) I got up to try another bath. All the eyes in the bathhouse looked at me as I sort of vaulted myself into a bath. After about a second I had the biggest shock of my life...literally. I had jumped into an ELECTRIC BATH. I had heard about these baths a few times but never actually saw one until I was smack in the middle of it. I lasted about ten seconds in the bath and then popped out. I got lots of grins from the old men who clearly knew I didn't know what I was jumping into. For the next fifteen minutes or so I felt a tingling in my limbs. Even now, about an hour later, I still have some tingling in my fingers.

Murphy's Law #6: I got out of the electric tub and sat in another tub with a man who proceeded to talk to me in Japanese for twenty minutes. He kept laughing after everything he said. I can only assume he was talking about me jumping into the bath.

Murphy's Law #7: After using the steam room and a herbal bath I went back to the shower to wash off. A man to the left of me handed me his soap. It was a really nice gesture by him and yes, I used the soap (I scrubbed it on my wash cloth then used it on my body). The man didn't offer me his shampoo though. After a couple of minutes the person on my right offered me his shampoo. For some reason a bunch of people turned to watch me use his shampoo...which I couldn't figure out how to open. I swear all those old men must think foreigners don't use shampoo. Well, the old man took the bottle, opened it and dumped a solid cup into my hands. I rubbed it into my scalp for a few minutes and then the man turned to me again and dumped MORE shampoo into my hands. My hair has never been so clean.

Murphy's Law #8: While washing my hair I got soap into my eyes. It stung like hell. I haven't had soap in my eye in years.

Murphy's Law #9: Masumi and Kensuke had made fun of me that I didn't know how to ring out a towel. Actually they think no foreigners know how to do this because my friend Jessica apparently couldn't ring out a towel well when she visited me and Masumi went to the onsen with her. Over my last day in Koryama, Masumi and Kensuke gave me some lesson on proper ringing out style. We actually figured out that indeed there is a difference between how Americans ring out a towel and how Japanese do. Japanese ring inside out, Americans ring outside in. You can actually see this in baseball grips. Next time you watch Ichiro watch how he holds a bat versus an American baseball player. Well, long Murphy's Law example short, I rang my towel so hard that soap squirted all over the person next to me. Yeah, he gave me a strange look.

Murphy's Law # 10 (This isn't a bad thing but rather just a comment): Right at the end of my showering a Yakuza sat down next to me. Usually Yakuza/people covered in tatoos aren't allowed into the bath houses. Well, this one was and he didn't look so friendly. I was glad that he didn't see me get into the bath without soaping up.

Murphy's Law #11: After changing back into my clothes another old man struck up a conversation with me with his limited English. His English phrases were in this order:
1. Strong (he motioned to me being tall).
2. Thank you (I am not sure for what).
3. I love you.

He said #3 right after he got totally naked.

Kyoto

This is the first picture I took in Kyoto. Seriously, that's not a joke. First picture:


This no-tit-squeezing sign is actually quite symbolic of my thoughts on Kyoto. In my head I had always thought of Kyoto as this ancient city chuck-full of temples and castles. Well, there are tons of temples -- and one castle -- but they are all mixed in and around a metropolis. Being in the middle of a huge city isn't really my thing. Sure I live in Hanoi and love it, but there is something vastly different about the architecture, back alleys and neighborhoods, and overall feel of Hanoi versus Kyoto.

This isn't Kyoto's fault. This is obviously my own fault for having a preconceived notion of what Kyoto was like. The fact that there are gropers in a city that I had assumed was overflowing with monks is kind of how I'll remember Kyoto -- although perhaps the monks are the gropers. All that said, I had a great day in Kyoto.

I arrived at about 6:30 AM on the night bus from Koryama. I immediately went to my hostel, dropped off my stuff, showered, rented a bike, got a map and took off to explore the city. The man at the hostel circled all the places in Kyoto that I should see. He explained to me that they were really far from each other and outlined a two day strategy for bike riding everywhere. Well, Ben August doesn't need two days to bike ride a city. I made good time to the farthest temple on the map to start the day and after that I was a man possessed. At the end of the day I had visited every temple the guy suggested except for one. I ended up riding 10 hours on the bike, literally from almost sunrise to sunset. I also took lots of pictures of myself with the arm extension method:


(PICTURE: The famous bridge in Kyoto.)




(PICTURE: The Golden Pavilion, AKA Rokuon-Ji Temple.)


(PICTURE: Kiyomizu Temple; Masumi and Kensuke's favorite.)

The last temple I went to was probably one of the coolest ones I have ever visited...although it ended up being one of the most miserable. Watch the video:

Goodbye Koryama!

(PICTURE: Kensuke, Masumi and I waiting for my bus to go to Kyoto.)

When I first learned that I'd be teaching in Koryama, I was a little bit skeptical. I had asked to be placed in a small city in the countryside yet when I googled Koryama I only saw pictures of industry. Whenever I asked someone who had lived -- or was living -- in Japan they all had the same response, "Koryama?" Nobody had ever heard of it. Lonely Planet Japan is over 600 pages long and it doesn't mention Koryama once. In fact, there are only two and a half pages dedicated to all of Fukushima. That's two pages for the equivalent of a US state! I bet even South Dakota or Idaho get more of a mention than that in Lonely Planet America. Well, despite my fears, Koryama turned out to be a pretty amazing place. Sure it isn't totally countryside and sure it is a relatively new city but it still has so much to offer. Frankly, I couldn't have asked to be placed somewhere better the last three months.

Now be warned readers of Ahoy Hanoi or random people who happen to stumble on my blog while researching Japan: I have no illusion if you come to Koryama you will NOT feel the way I feel. My amazing three months in this "core city" really boils down to two things: Masumi and Kensuke. I often feel really lucky and meeting Masumi and Kensuke is now up on the list of the luckiest things in my life. These two people are without a doubt two of the nicest, most genuine, most friendly people I have ever met. I have a hard time imagining that anyone I know would welcome a complete stranger into their lives as openly as Masumi and Kensuke invited me into their.

When I walked Masumi home the first night I met her, little did I know that just two and a half months later I would spend my last 24 hours in Koryama as her house guest and unabashedly call her and Kensuke my two newest best friends. As excited as I am to get back to Hanoi to be with Huyen, I am really going to miss having such amazing friends in my life.

Thanks for amazing memories, Masumi and Kensuke!

Find Your Buddha

(PICTURE: Masumi and Kensuke making tracks on the snow.)

Masumi, Kensuke and I have had so many memories together in such a short period. On my last day in Koryama we had time for one more. I had heard about a place with "800 Buddhas" and asked Masumi and Kensuke about it. Despite being Koryama natives, neither had ever heard of it. I peaked their curiosity though and we ended up getting the location information from Yuya. On Sunday afternoon we headed out to the "800 Buddha" temple.

The place was in the middle of nowhere. It was on some back-road highway that Kensuke said he had never traveled on before. We found the spot and it ended up being pretty magical. First off, we were the only people there. Secondly, it had been snowing so everything was covered with a beautiful layer of white. Thirdly, it turns out that there were only a couple of Buddhas. However, there were a ton of other little statues each with different expressions, poses and looks. I told Masume and Kensuke that we had to look at all the statues and then each choose the one we liked best.

Here's a little montage of some of the statues. Feel free to comment which you like best...



(PICTURE: Kensuke chose the man with the biggest smile.)


(PICTURE: Masumi chose the good parent.)

(PICTURE: I chose the guy with the chubby cheeks.)

Last Meals

(PICTURE: Enjoying my mom's banana bread.)

Relax Jeff Aidekman, this isn't totally a food post. Sheesh.

Perhaps my long time reader and recent critic has a point, I've written a lot about food recently. However, I love the food in Japan! I promise though, the second part of this post has a funny story (so, Jeff, you can scroll down and only will offend my mother).

Part 1: My Mother's Cooking

If you recall, Masumi has taught me a lot about Japanese cooking. She is my sensei. The first recipe she taught me was her mother's nikajaga. Well, it was my turn to return the favor. I had to be out of my apartment on the 19th but decided to stay until the 20th so I could spend a little more time with Masumi and Kensuke. Masumi asked me to teach her some American dishes so I immediately emailed my mother for recipes. As you can imagine, the average Japanese household doesn't have many of the ingredients we use in the states. Luckily there is a foreign food store in the Koryama station that had almost everything we would need. We gathered together the ingredients and with my mom's detailed instructions churned out three delicious August/Zucker originals:

1. Pumpkin Bread













2. Grandma Cele's Crouton Stuff Baked Chicken












3. Banana Bread


Part Two: The Best Ramen in Japan

(PICTURES: Masumi, Kensuke and I eating by far the best ramen I have ever had.)

Masumi told me that I could not leave Koryama without having had the best ramen in all of Japan. Masumi, Kensuke and I went to the ramen shop for lunch on my last day in Koryama. Needless to say, the ramen was amazing. However, what makes this restaurant truly special is the owner.

As soon as we walked into the restaurant (of course there was a wait at nearly 2PM because it is that good) I could tell right away who the owner was because he was manning the kitchen like a general. You know, if a general smiled and looked really happy all the time. At one point while we were waiting the owner ran out of the shop to chase to little girls and give them lollipops. Yeah, he's that kind of nice person.

When we sat down the owner wanted to know about the foreigner at his counter. He started to ask questions and Masumi and Kensuke answered him. He started to tell them that one of his ramen bowls was hanging in a restaurant in New York City. Hey, New Yorkers go to Ippudo NY at 65 Fourth Avenue and and look for a bowl with red lettering.

(PICTURES: That sign on the wall is for the ramen restaurant in NYC that has his bowl. The second picture I found on google images. I imagine one of those bowls behind the bartender is the same one I now have. I wonder if I bring it into the restaurant if the owner will hook me up when I say I am friends with the owner.)

The owner then told Masmui and Kensuke that I had a very kindly face and before I knew it he was giving me one of his famous bowls to take home with me. This was an amazing gesture and something that I will always remember. However, if you have ever eaten ramen you'll know that the bowls are slightly larger than your average cereal bowl. By slightly I mean they are at least two or three times bigger. In case you're keeping track from my last few posts, in my final 48 hours before leaving for a ten day backpacking trip, I was handed a GIANT calendar, traded for a large framed sumo wrestling hand print/signature and now was given a huge ceramic bowl. Yeah, there's not much room left to get anyone any presents. Sorry about that.

(PICTURE: The ramen master and me outside of the ramen shop with my new bowl in hand.)

My Bicycle

(PICTURE: The end of the line for my bike.)

Buying a bicycle the first week in Koryama was the greatest purchase I have made in a long time. The whole time I was here I only rode the local bus two times because I rode everywhere. Katie and I guesstimated that I rode at least 400 miles in three months between commuting to work, going to the gym every night, exploring Koryama and taking the river bike path a few times. I've tried to think of a way to bring my bike back to Vietnam with me but it just isn't economically feasible especially when I can buy the same exact bike in Vietnam for the same price I bought this one for. However, that doesn't make it any easier to say goodbye.

During the second to last week of school one of my students told me that he had broken his bike. I had devised a great plan to surprise him with my bicycle the last day of school when two days prior to the end, he told me he got a new bike. I now had two options for my bicycle:

Option 1: Sell it to a second-hand store. There is one a few minutes from me that will probably give me $20 for it.

Option 2: Find a small street and leave it there until the next time I come back to Japan.

Yes, option #2 sounds ridiculous but let me recant a story that my friend Mikka told me: Mikka said that she works with a girl who taught in Japan last year. At the end of her contract she left her bike, with the key in the lock, in an alley in Tokyo. The teacher left Japan for three months and when she came back, BAM, the bicycle was still in the same spot. How amazing is that?

Gosh, I'm gonna miss my bike and Japanese honesty.

Anyway, in the end I went with Option #1. Turns out it was a GREAT move. Masumi, Kensuke and I went to a local second hand shop to get an offer on my bike. The owner told us to wait a minute and instead of just twiddling our thumbs, we perused the store. I gotta tell you, I've been to many a second hand store before but this one took the cake. This place was awesome. They had all this old authentic Japanese stuff and I was enthralled that I almost immediately said to Masumi, "Maybe I can swap my bike for one of these [old giant Japanese banners that I was looking at."

First things first, the owner went outside with us and gave my bike the once over and offered me 1500 Yen. Frankly I was offended since I assumed the lowest he would offer was 2,000 Yen. However I played it cool and offered my swap idea. The owner was game and we went back into the shop. I pointed at the banners and asked which he recommended. He ended up choosing an old one that had a price tag on it for 3,150 Yen! That's more than double what he was offering for my bike. I immediately agreed to the deal. The owner went to get his ladder when something caught my eye high on the wall. There was a hand print with Japanese writing over it.

(PICTURE: The hand print with Japanese writing.)

I asked Masumi what it was and she told me it was a sumo wrestler's hand print and his signature. BOOM! I asked the owner if I could switch and he said no problem. Masumi then asked him a question in Japanese and got excited when he told her that he had her favorite sumo's hand print/signature.

(PICTURE: The owner taking down the hand print/signature.)

This particular collectible had a 4,000 Yen price tag on it. I asked the guy if he would swap it with me and I would give him another 1,000 Yen (Yup, I thought I was getting money when I went into the store). The guy agreed and then hooked me up again by only charging me 500 Yen. I asked Masumi if she wanted the item but she told me to keep it. Besides the giant calendar I was given the day before, I now have a huge framed sumo hand print/signature to carry for ten days. Sure it is a pain in the ass to carry but it is by far the best souvenir from Japan ever!!!!

(PICTURE: Almost an even swap.)

Oh, if you're into sumo, the hand print/signature is for the retired sumo heartthrob Terao.

A Real Samurai

(PICTURE: The eel chef and his wife.)










I had one solo dinner left in Koryama and had a tough decision to make -- which restaurant to go to? Okay, it wasn't actually tough at all because by far my favorite restaurant has been the local eel place. Besides the amazing food, the chef and his wife have been extremely friendly to me. I've written about how every time I go in they give me extra food that they're preparing for their family. Well, on top of that, whenever I have seen the chef around the neighborhood he flashes me a peace sign and smiles from ear to ear. I saw him one time at the local supermarket and he literally almost jumped with joy when he saw me. The guy can't speak English and I obviously can't speak Japanese but I still consider him to be one of the best friends I've made in Japan.

Going to the eel restaurant for my last meal turned out to be one of my greatest experiences in the land of the rising sun. As soon as I walked in, the husband and wife lit up. In my best gesturing possible, I told them that this was going to be my last meal in Koryama. Immediately the man told me he had a present for me and proceeded to climb up on to a high shelf and pulled down a gigantic Mt. Fuji 2010 calendar. The chef showed off the pictures in the calendar to me and then proudly handed it over. I'm not really a calendar guy but this is a beautiful calendar. The one down side to it is that I now have to travel ten days with a huge rolled up calendar.

After graciously receiving the present, I sat down and the chef and his wife started to make me a bunch of extra food. The chef then took out a big bottle of beer and poured us all a glass to celebrate the night. The three of us tried to communicate as best as possible and we got a lot across to one another. I took out my camera and showed them pictures of my family and pictures of Huyen. I think they were really excited that I was sharing personal things with them.

(PICTURE: Sharing a beer together.)

At some point it came up that I go to the local gym and it turned out that both the husband and wife go there too. I was actually planning on going there after dinner and had my gym bag with me. The chef asked if he could come along and work out with me. I of course said yes and he got really excited. He got so excited he CLOSED THE RESTAURANT TWO HOURS EARLY!!!

While I finished my meal, the chef ran upstairs and changed into his workout clothes. He then came back to the restaurant and started to show me some of his exercising moves and then began to point at himself and say "Master." Soon after he said, "Karate" and I put the two together. Before I knew it the chef darted upstairs again and came down with a slew of weapons. Turns out the chef is a SAMURAI!!! A real life SAMURAI!!!!

The chef proceeded to put on a show for me with each weapon. It was freaking amazing...until he cut himself on his samurai sword. His wife patched him up with a band-aid and then the two of us hit the gym together. As we walked into the gym, the chef pointed at me and told all the workers at the front desk, "MY FRIEND." Honestly, this almost made me choke up. I'm friends with a samurai.

Check out this video. It is AWESOME!

Last Day of Class

(PICTURE: Group shot of the A, B and C classes)

This past Wednesday was the last day of class. It was sad to say goodbye to my students but at the same time I was pretty elated to finish my tour of teaching duty in Japan. I had some really wonderful students and made some good bonds. Three students bought me a box of chocolate, one student bought me a detailed book of maps for my travels in Japan and another two students invited me to their hometowns (I might be able to swing by one's town near Tokyo. The other lives on an island near Okinawa).

Teaching Japanese students was much different then how I thought it would be compared to teaching Vietnamese students. Truly they are completely different worlds of teaching. The one major difference outside of pronunciation, spelling and writing that I can point out is this: the Vietnamese students I've had really saw English as a way to better their lives. In Japan I often felt like students looked at English as just another subject. At the end of the day in Vietnam I always felt a sense of doing something good. I've always felt that I was making a difference. At the end of the day in Japan, I usually felt like I was just finishing a job. That said, I'm really going to miss my Japanese students but at the same time I can't wait to get back to Hanoi to start teaching!

(PICTURE: A couple of my favorite students -- Ryoto, George Lucas, Yukki and Souichiro.)

The White Tigers

(PICTURE: The graves of the 19 White Tigers.)

Everyone who lives in Koryama will tell you that Koryama is a "new city" with not much history. However, not too far away from Koryama is Aizu, a city with lots of history.

Masumi and Kensuke took me to see Aizu which has a few famous sites. The first place we went to was limori-yama, a mountain where the "White Tiger" samurai killed themselves during the Boshin Civil War. Long story short, 20 samurai, mostly teenagers, were on a mountain top and could see their castle below covered in smoke. The samurai assumed that the imperial forces had captured their castle and did the only sensible thing they could think of -- 19 out of 20 committed seppuku (ritual suicide by disembowelment). Turns out that the castle wasn't on fire at all but rather the surrounding area. The castle would eventually fall but not for a couple of weeks.

As I heard this story I naturally wondered how the 20th White Tiger felt when he found out the castle wasn't captured yet. I also wondered how the end of the story would have turned out if 19 extra samurais were there two weeks later to protect the castle.

One thing that I found really interesting at limori-yama was that Mussolini was so touched by the story of the White Tigers that he donated a monument to commemorate the event.

(PICTURE: Mussolini's donated statue.)


(PICTURE: Masumi and Kensuke in front of Tsuruga-jo Castle.)

After checking out the mountainside we headed towards the reconstructed castle. This was my first Japanese castle...but I'm sure not my last since I'm on my way to Kyoto where apparently castles are a dime a dozen.




(PICTURE: I could have been the 21st White Tiger.)

Sake Factory

(PICTURE: Sake at the museum.)

Before coming to Japan, I was never a big fan of sake. I think the problem was that I was always drinking sake warm. In Japan they say that you should drink bad sake warm, but good sake cold (or warm). I'm gonna take a stab in the dark and say I was probably always drinking bad sake in the states.

Since coming to Koryama I have not done too much drinking. I've had the occasional beer or two but the majority of my drinking has been sake at Kensuke and Masumi's house.

Last weekend Masumi, Kensuke and I went to Kitakata. Kitakata is a small little city which is famous for both its sake and its ramen shops. There are only 40,000 people living in Kitakata but there are 120 ramen shops!

Our first stop in Kitakata was at the Yamatogawa Sake Brewing Museum.

(PICTURE: Masumi and Kensuke at the entrance to the Yamatogawa Sake Brewing Museum.)

The three of us quickly made our way through the museum, checking out the different stages of sake making. At the end of the museum was the sake tasting room where Masumi and I tried a few different sakes.

All the sakes were really good including the "fresh sake" which was cloudy and had small chunks of rice in it. It was almost like a combination of rice pudding and sake...which is a pretty good combination.

After tasting different sakes, I bought a bottle for Masumi and Kensuke's house. I figure I drank enough of their sake these past three months that I could repay them with a nice bottle.

(PICTURE: The sake master...or at least the woman who poured me some sake to taste. The "fresh sake" is on the right side of the line.)

Following the museum we walked around the town looking for a particular ramen shop that sparked Masumi's interest. We each got a big bowl of ramen and split two plates of gyoza. Between the sake tasting, delicious ramen and my penchant for falling asleep in cars, I passed out in about two minutes when we hit the road after lunch.