Around Shonan Takatori

The Matty’s office and dorm (whose structure is the same as the adjacent houses) lie in a quiet neighborhood named Shonan Takatori. The neighborhood stands at the waste of Mt. Takatori (This means “grabbing hawk,” which refers to a species of brown, wide-winged hawks that stalk and swoop throughout the area. They have been known to talon food out of a human’s hand, and I believe this is the source of the name.), about 1.5 miles inland from Tokyo Bay.

The houses around the area are small and tightly pressed together. Each has distinct architecture and intricately planted, shaped and cut gardens. Most are built compactly on 2-8 foot high stone foundations to protect from earthquakes and typhoons. Many people have small box-shaped cars and dogs and/or cats as pets.

The local earth is filled with a wide variety of life. The diversity of vegetation is far superior to that of America. The mountain landscapes are filled with various species of maple, pine, bamboo and many others unknown to me. They cover the forests in small connected patches, appearing as a quilt. Also, throughout the spring and summer, many different colors and sizes of flowers sprout along the roads and within personal gardens. The Japanese have quite an affinity for them and make an extra effort to plant flowers in every free corner. Along with vegetation, there are many species of insects. The most interesting are the green beetles, praying mantises and the various species and colors of butterfly. This said, the area’s birds are much less widespread than in America. I have sporadically seen sparrows, chickadees, swallows, ravens, hawks, and tiny green birds named mejiro. Also, land animals are rarely seen. They are limited to small forest squirrels, snakes and raccoons.

Just outside Matty's office, there is a trail that ascends Mt. Takatori. It passes trees, flowers and a set of house-sized brown boulders and leads to a tower that holds open and expansive 360 degree views. On a clear day, one can see Chiba Prefecture (on the other side of Tokyo Bay) to the east. To the north, one can see the towers of Yokohama and Tokyo and the green inland hills, the southeastern most edge of the Miura Peninsula and Yokosuka city to the south. To the west, one can see Sagami Bay, more hills and Fujisan (it has not been clear enough for me to see yet).

Many times, I hiked to this tower, sat in meditation and then opened my eyes to clear vision of these vast views.
As one descends from Shonan Takatori towards Tokyo Bay, one passes a variety of places to shop, eat and drink. Within 50 feet one can find a new and well-kept bank or corporate convenient store and small wooden shacks that house the businesses of small “mom and pop” food, flower, clothing or car maintenance shops. Also, there are tiny noodle shops, housed in buildings that are five feet wide and fifteen feet long (just enough room for a cook, his or her equipment and seating for 2-4 people).

Continuing towards the bay, one walks along a river, where many fish from land or clam in the water, and arrives at a large park. In the park, there is a baseball field, an area for barbecuing alongside the river and a tall hill that houses a tower. From there one can see the vast inland villages, the mountain range at the center of the peninsula, Tokyo Bay and a few miles of its coastline.

I still live in Shonan Takatori, and plan to continue to explore and write more details in the future.

Dorm Living

6/08-8/08

Recently, I moved out of the Matty’s Dorm and into a homestay with a Japanese family. Here I would like to recount the most pleasant characteristic of dorm living: the bedroom.
The day I moved in, Mrs. Kyokuta showed me my room. It had tatami floors, paper windows, a bed and a large metal desk. From the outset, I desired to live and sleep in the Japanese style. I moved out the bed and the desk, and brought in a futon. Every morning I folded up the futon and stored it in the closet and every night I took it out and prepared it for sleeping. During the day, my room consisted of two walls of paper windows, two walls of closed closets and a bare tatami floor.

Such an arrangement brought many moments of peace. Its emptiness was a good environment for prayer, study and meditation. I kept the tatami floors clean and soft and the morning and late afternoon sun illuminated the paper windows with great beauty.

On the south wall, behind the paper windows, there were two sliding panes of glass that opened to a small wooden patio. The patio faced the dorm’s garden: a well-planned set of seasonally flowering bushes and trees, boulders, wild bamboo shoots and a traditional rock lantern. I would often eat breakfast on this patio, looking upon the vegetation and the surrounding hillsides blowing in the wind. At night, the patio often had open views of the rising moon. I would sit and watch it glow through the clouds. On such nights, I would open the window panes, lay the futon next to the screen, and fall asleep with my eyes watching the moon.

Such experiences will be missed, but I have been very happy in my current living environment. I plan to write about the family, the house and the way of life in future.

Adventure 8: Minami Alps (days 3 & 4)

8/14/08-8/15/08


After a windy night in the high mountains, I awoke to clear skies and a view of Fujisan. My initial plan was to head south and hike two more peaks in the morning and then loop back over Kita Dake and Aino Dake in the afternoon. This changed when a weathered and old mountain man told me that thunder and rain were possible in the high mountains in the afternoon. With this knowledge, I decided to continue south over the peaks and take the quickest route down the mountain. As I left, the man said, "be careful" and "good luck."

As I started to climb Notori Dake (3052m), a dark thick cloud and powerful wind covered the mountain. The green mountain scenery from the day before was hidden and I could only see 20 feet in front of me. As I approached the second peak, the sky cleared over the eastern valley and vision returned. I took a short break and headed down a rocky hill with wild flowers and tall grasses.

The time came to leave the high mountains and I began a steep and seemingly endless descent through a thickly forested mountainside. The hike was taxing on my knees, feet and eyes, but clear views of Fujisan and the surrounding forests eased the pain. Finally, I arrived at the campsite and put up the tent with my tired bones. After, I walked over to a near river and built a rock tower. At the campsite, I met a French Canadian named Phillip and his wife, Yoko. We spoke about living in Japan, talked, laughed loudly and raised spirits.

Before heading to sleep, I sat for a long time and watched the clouds float around Fujisan, taking in the atmosphere of the mountains.

I awoke the next morning at sunrise. There was a clear view of Fujisan under clouds of yellow, blue and orange. I quickly packed up and got my sore legs marching down the trail by 6:15am. The first leg was along and over the river and the second was through a mossy forest. The sun was out and illuminating the leaves and the views of the surrounding mountain slopes.

At one point, I took a break and sat facing the river. I gazed at the ripples and the reflecting light. I thought about how fortunate I was to be in the Japanese Alps at that moment and to have made it over the mountains with my health and possessions intact.

Soon after, I finished the last leg, a paved road under clear skies and open views of the high mountains, and arrived in Narada. Narada was a small town at the end of the trail with houses with multi-colored roofs and a famous onsen, or hot spring. With the help of a kind Japanese couple, I found the onsen. I quickly paid, took off my dirty clothes, showered and submerged in the warm waters. The facility that housed the onsen facilitated the cleaning experience of the bath. It had tatami-floored tea rooms, stone floors and ajisai flowers just outside the bath. Afterwards, I headed down to the bus stop and found the fastest route back to Tokyo (with the proactive benevolence of the kind Japanese couple).

A few hours later, I arrived in Tokyo, called Rabbi Binyamin and was graciously accepted to stay with his family for Shabbat. At his house, I prayed with renewed fervor, nourished my body and got a full night of sleep.

Adventure 8: Minami Alps (days 1 & 2)

8/12/08-8/13/08

The trip began on a Monday evening, when I took a train to Tokyo and stayed at Rabbi Binyamin's house. The next morning, I prayed, ate and took a set of trains west to Kofu. At 2:00pm, I took a bus along with 20 other backpackers to a trail head in Hirokawara. The road was thin and winded around mountain edges and alongside waterfalls. Upon arriving in Hirokawara, I made best use of my maps and the Japanese signs and took a steep path up the spine of the mountain. I arrived at the campsite with just enough time to set up the tent before dark. With the darkness came the pouring rain, which continued for the majority of the night. My tent was soaked and leaking, but dry enough on the inside to allow a full night of sleep.

When the sun arose, the rains stopped. I took down the tent and let it dry with my sleeping bag in the sun for about an hour and a half. At 9:30, I began to hike a steep path up a grassy mountain. As I ascended, the weather changed very quickly and often: from cloudy skies to sunny skies or to a thick and engulfing mist that obscured vision.

Eventually, I reached a clearing and saw the surrounding ranges under blue skies. As I ascended, I met many Japanese and they all greeted me with a cheerful countenance and "conichiwa." I continued up and made it to Kita Dake (3193m), the second highest peak in Japan. There I prayed with tefillin and ate.

As I gazed upon the valley, I saw a bird still in the air. It wasn’t flapping its wings, just balancing stationary in the wind.

I headed down and arrived at a mountain hut station by 2:30pm. There I rested and pondered whether to set up camp or continue to the next hut (which was three hours away). There were dark clouds over the valley and hovering over the peaks and I considered staying. I looked into the distance, saw that there was no precipitation coming out of any of the clouds and judged that it would be safe to move on.

As I went, the trail became steep, misty and lonesome. I went fast, but with great caution, always leaning and stepping uphill. The atmosphere was heavenly and I often gazed into the clouds. I reached the second peak, Aino Dake (3189m), dry and safe. As I descended, the sun peered through the clouds with Grace. Soon, I made it up to the next mountain hut, set up the tent and headed to the western edge of the campsite. The Beauty of the view and Glory of the day brought me to sing verses of praise into the valley. As I sung, the sun peaked through the clouds again and shined rays of yellow into the valley mist. After, with a cold and tired body, I returned to the tent for sleep.

Adventure 7: Shikine Shima

8/8/08-8/10/08

The group left the port and I was left alone on Shikine Shima. I had no hotel reservations and about four hours to find a place to stay (before Shabbat). The island had a small village in the center with small guest houses and convenient stores. I walked inland, carrying a map, compass, sleeping bag, change of clothes, and some wine and bread. I asked a clerk at a convenient store and several people on the street where I could find a hotel. They pointed in several directions, but I could not read the signs on the buildings nor find a room to stay. After circumventing for two hours under the hot afternoon sun, I consulted the map and headed north to a campsite.

The campsite was just above a cove with a white sandy beach, steep rock cliffs covered with greenery, turquoise waters and a large tree-covered stone arch. It had a barbecue area, bathrooms and an unobstructed sunset view. I quickly checked in, hid my bags up the hill and ran to a convenient store to get supplies. The day after Shabbat was Tishba B'av, a fast day, so I bought plenty of food. I returned, took a nice swim, a shower and lit the candles for Shabbat. The wind was strong, so I built a fortress around the candles with the bags and kept close until the wax expired. I watched them flicker and glow and covered the top with my hands when strong winds came.

When the lights went out, a new trial emerged. I had no tent or insect repellent and clouds were hovering above. I covered my entire body (except me face) in the sleeping bag, prayed that no rain would come and closed my eyes. Throughout the night, the mosquitoes continuously harassed me, but no rain came. I was able to get a few hours of restless sleep.

The next morning I prayed, ate a big breakfast of cold noodles and jam, bread and salt and biscuits and nuts, hid my bags and took a morning hike along the eastern and southern edges of the island. I explored secluded coves, walking over big white rocks and gazing upon the turquoise water. I made it to a set of natural hot springs, that were right on the water’s edge. I read a sign that said the spring had healing powers and was discovered when someone came upon an injured sea lion bathing in its pools. I put my hands in, and the hot salt water burned in the cuts on my fingers. I headed back to the campsite for lunch and prayer, hid my bags and headed out to the western edge for the afternoon. I traversed through a trail along thick green vegetation and up a hill to the highest points on the island. There were great views of the tall and steep mountain cliffs that met the turquoise waters and the green trees that covered the island. That night I tried to sleep in an unused shower room, but the mosquitoes found me there. I got out, set up my sleeping bag on a plot of sand near the water’s edge and covered my face with a pair of sweatpants. Thankfully, there was no rain again and I got a few hours of good sleep.

The next morning I awoke, took a boat back to the mainland and spent the afternoon fasting at the Tokyo Chabad House. That night I ate a big dinner and returned home. I spent the next day resting and preparing for a four day camping trip in the Southern Japanese Alps.

Adventure 6: Sailing to Shikine Shima

8/5/08 - 8/8/08

The trip began on a Tuesday, when I rested from the Fujisan climb and made the preparations for the long distance sailing trip. Along with my clothes and sleeping bag, I brought wine, bread and candles for Shabbat. In the afternoon, I met Takesan and his girlfriend, Nanamisan, at the dock and emptied the water out of the small entry boat. That night we slept on the boat together and prepared for an early take off.

We woke to a sunrise that illuminated the sky with gold and dark blue. Mrs. Kyokuta met us at the dock, wished us a good trip, pointed at the sunrise, and remarked that it was a good omen. We motored out of the port and into Tokyo Bay at about 5:00am, as the sun brightened the sky and the water. As is common over the summer, there was no wind, so we relied on the motor for the majority of the day. As we headed south, I took my prayer book and tefillin out and did my best to pray on the deck. I hugged the sail’s support beam and gazed upon the colors and motion of the water, as the ship bumped me in all directions. The skies were clear overhead and graced with white cloud puffs in the distance and the waters were sparkling in the sun. We all took time to take in the beauty.

As we moved out of Tokyo bay the waters changed from sea blue to a deep turquoise. Mr. Kyokuta told me it was called “black current” and flowed throughout the area. The “black current” was stunningly beautiful under the clear sky and housed flying fish that jumped out of the sea and flapped their wings in the air for a distance.　At one point, the fishing line tightened and Nanamisan reeled in a huge golden scaled fish named ｓhira, or mahi mahi by the Hawaiians. As it took its last breaths, the fish’s scales turned silver. Quickly, Takesan cut off the meat on the deck and stored it in the icebox.

In the afternoon, we slowly approached O Shima, a large green volcanic island. After some uncertainty with parking, a kind 82 year-old man in a white bucket hat waved us into a docking slot. Soon after, we were driven to an Onsen, or public bath. When we arrived, we removed our sweaty clothes, squatted down under a low showerhead, cleaned our bodies and descended into the warm waters. As we sat, Mr. Kyokuta recounted that traditionally Japanese men and women would share the same public bath and that such was the practice in his youth. We left the bath rejuvenated, bought some ice cream and hiked back to the boat. That night we ate the shira and slept well.

The next morning we awoke and tarried for some time in the port in search of fuel and water. As we motored out to sea, Nanamisan set the breakfast table and we ate under clear skies. Mid-morning we passed To Shima, an uninhabited volcanic island. I was praying at the time and as I looked up, I was overcome with awe. The island’ｓ steep slopes were smoking and its greenery was glowing in the sun. Glorious Speech!

After lunch we put up the jib sail, turned off the motor and moved with the sounds of the waves in our ears. We caught several fish and stored them in ice. In the late afternoon we arrived at Shikine Shima and set anchor in a cove with light turquoise waters. As fast as I could, I jumped into the cool refreshing waters and explored the area. There were caves, beaches and rock islands covered in coral. The water was so clear that I could see the fish and coral without goggles. I found a secluded spot, with an open view over the western waters and sky, and sat for sunset. It was wondrous, complete with multiple colors in the sky, glowing clouds and a view of Fujisan to the north. That night Takesan took out fish, sliced off the meat and put them on the table raw, as sashimi. They were soft in texture and delicious.

The next morning we awoke, cleared the barnacles off the bottom of the boat and went snorkeling. I saw many species of multicolored tropical fish, an eel, octopus and much coral. After, I sat on the deck, gazing upon the sun-illuminated turquoise waters, grey rocks, blue skies and green trees. It was all very pretty and brought serenity. As the moment passed, I let go of the intensity of the past months of adjusting to Japanese life, and reset my heart for the coming Fall. Soon after, Mr Kyokuta motored us back to the port. I took out my bags and said goodbye to the others. I was to spend Shabbat on the island and the group was to sail back to Tokyo Bay.

Adventure 5: Mt. Fuji Climb

Fujisan 8/3 & 4/08

The climb to Mt. Fuji (respectfully referred to as Fujisan by the Japanese) began on a Saturday night, as I checked the tent and packed. I awoke late Sunday morning, ate a huge breakfast of all the leftover food in the house, prayed, picked up some food and a poncho and headed to Oppama Station. I proceeded to take five trains and arrived in Gotemba around 3:00pm.

Without a concrete plan or knowledge of how to get to the mountain, I walked toward the bus station. There I saw a group of young Americans get on a bus. They said they were going to the Gotemba 5th Station of Fujisan’s western slope and climbing the mountain overnight. I was not planning on climbing from that station or on the first night, but after a moment of fast thinking, I jumped on the bus.

We arrived at the 5th Station at 4:30pm, and I began to ascend alone. As I climbed, the colors of the grey rocks, green plants, and blue sky glowed clear through the thin mountain air. There were yellow sunrays breaking through the clouds above me and a lake of thick white clouds covering the valley below me. At one point the valley clouds ascended the mountain and blew a fresh breath of mist onto my skin. It was the first time I felt the consistency of a cloud.

As the sun was setting, I met a nice lone hiker from Kyoto and proceeded to climb most of the night with him. We did not speak much of each other’s language, but we communicated the emotions of climbing well and understood each other.

After the sunset the overhead clouds thinned and the stars came out. They shined clear, filled the sky with great beauty and served as inspiration when I took breaks from climbing.

Such was needed, for the ten hours of climbing pained my body and challenged my will. Along with being steep and completely uphill, the trail was made of small rocks and sunk my feet 2-5 inches on every step. Also, because I was not planning on climbing the first day, I had a large external-frame army pack filled with a tent, sleeping bag, food, clothes and water on my back and a backpack filled with books over my stomach.

At times I struggled and considered going to sleep. On breaks, I saw 5-10 shooting stars and each time I asked for the strength to go on and for protection from a bad fall. From midnight to 3:00am I became progressively slower and took more breaks, but I finished with a charge to the summit and arrived on the eastern edge just as light began to show on the horizon.

Soon after, I watched the sun slowly rise. The show started with a rainbow in the sky, then golden clouds were added to the horizon and climaxed as the sun rose a perfect yellow sphere, unmarred by the clouds. (Note: I have watched four suns rise in Japan. Twice it rose red and twice yellow. I think the presentation depends on the location of the watcher and thickness of the eastern clouds. If I find more information about this, I will write of it.) There were white clouds in the valleys, covering everything but the black mountain peaks. Glorious Speech!

After the rise, I hiked around the crater of Fujisan’s crown, gazing upon the adjacent valleys in the morning sun and mist. My mind was tired and my body exhausted, and after some confusion I chose the path down the northern slope and headed down. It was wide, steep and slippery and I fell backward many times. Along the way I stopped to pray, strength was returned and I began to march down. The last legs were highlighted by more climbing clouds and views of the bright green forests of Fujisan’s ankle.

Although I planned to spend two nights in the Fuji area, I decided to head home that day. I had ten days of physically taxing ventures ahead of me and took the following day for rest.