A Fish Out of Water

Kinchakuda

At the end of September I took Shuma to Kinchakuda, a park in Hidaka City, Saitama that is famed for its flowers. I've been wanting to go for years but never had the time, and now that I often find myself at a loss as to how I'm supposed to fill up the days with a baby I thought this would be a nice little outing. I was right, and aside from a really sore back from carrying him for most of the day things went great. I'm guessing the early toddler years are a good time to do touristy stuff like this, before he's old enough to get bored of it.

The park can be visited as part of a hike or long walk, but I chose to go directly from the station (Koma Station on the Seibu Chichibu Line). It took about fifteen minutes and was a rather pleasant walk, along paths lined with farm fields, rice paddies and chestnut orchards. There were also vendors for much of the way selling local flowers, produce and crafts. I was interested in the sesame, which we'd seen growing a few years ago in nearby Hanno, and I wonder if the area produces a lot of it.

There were also plenty of flowers, and as we got closer to the park they increased, as did the crowds. After paying my 200 yen entry fee, this is what I saw:

The flowers in question are called here manjushage (曼珠沙華), and more commonly known as higanbana (彼岸花; English names include red spider lily, cluster amaryllis, and storm lily).

This is what a single flower looks like, and it's beautiful enough on its own, but people come here to see thousands of them together in a sea of red. Indeed, if you've seen a picture of a field of higanbana then it was probably taken here, as Kinchakuda is famed throughout Japan. Speaking of pictures, I wasn't expecting to take amazing ones, but here are some examples of what more talented photographers can do with these flowers.

So of course even though we went on a weekday we had to deal with major crowds, and it was slow moving along the narrow paths in the park. Luckily the place is well-designed and the number and layout of the paths make it possible to occasionally escape the worst crowding and also get some pictures that aren't filled with people.

There was evidence here and there of the previous week's Typhoon 15, one of the biggest storms to pass through in recent memory. Here a few trees have been knocked over but left where they lay, presumably so as not to disturb the flowers.

Near the middle of the park was a market area full of vendors selling snacks and local products, so I bought a simple lunch and found a place by the nearby Komagawa River to sit down and eat it. Shuma charmed the pants off of the surrounding picnickers, and the couple seen on the right in the above picture gave him a manju (sweet bun stuffed with red bean jam). Which I brought home for Hideaki, because Shuma hasn't discovered sweets yet.

Across the river was a small landslide from the typhoon. The river was nice and shallow and looked to be a great spot for swimming in the summer, so we'll be back.

The other side of the park was far less crowded, perhaps because the flowers weren't quite in full bloom yet.

Can you spot the dragonfly above? It's an akatombo (red dragonfly, or autumn darter), the same as the one below:

This is the Aiaibashi Bridge, a pedestrian bridge said to be the biggest of its type in Japan.

Every once in a while there were white higanbana, which are even harder to photograph than red (the flowers also come in pink and yellow).

Watch out squeamish people, a spider shot follows:

You didn't think I would do a whole post without a picture of Shuma, did you? Of course, it was hard to take his picture- he can stand by himself but every time I backed up to take his picture he would grab the flowers and try to eat or otherwise destroy them.

By the time I left the higanbana section of the park it was late afternoon. This would be a good time for serious photographers to visit, as the light was lovely and the crowds were thinning out.

Nearby there were fields of cosmos. The park actually has several types of flowers that bloom throughout the year, although higanbana are by far the most famous.

More pictures can be seen here.

 

Kinchakuda
Saitama-ken Hidaka-shi Koma Hongo 125-2
042-982-0268
15 minutes from Koma Station on the Seibu Chichicu Line; can also be accessed on hiking routes from Komagawa Station (JR Hachiko and Kawagoe Lines) and Hanno Station (Seibu Ikebukuro Line)
Open daily from 7:00am to 5:00pm during the higanbana season (two to three weeks around late September, but varies; season announced in September here)
Admission 200 yen during the higanbana season; free during the rest of the year
Parking 500 yen
Wheelchair and stroller accessible, but most paths are unpaved and crowds may be hard to navigate

A Year of Wildlife

On our walk yesterday Shuma and I saw tonnes of birds, including two snowy egrets, lots of ducks, and exactly twenty-four ducklings. One mommy duck had twelve babies! Is it even possible for a duck to lay and successfully hatch a dozen eggs at once? Or was she babysitting? I don't know, but they were adorable.

It seems to be a tradition to have neat animal sightings the day before a big trip. Last year, the day prior to a visit back home, I witnessed one of the most incredible wildlife episodes ever. It could have been on Animal Planet or National Geographic except that it involved two rather mundane creatures: a crow and a rat. Oh, but what happened was anything but mundane.

Hideaki and I were just walking out of the local convenience store when I saw a minor commotion in front of us: a rat scampering down the sidewalk and a crow hopping along the road beside it. Crows are numerous in Tokyo, so much so that they are considered pests, but rats are a rare sight (they're there of course, you just don't usually see them). So I stopped to watch what was going on, figuring they were fleeing from one of the neighborhood stray cats.

But when the rat scooted under a parked car and the crow started hopping around the car and trying to get under it, I started to wonder who was fleeing from who. And when the rat darted into some bushes and the crow flew in pursuit it became clear that the crow was after the rat. Now Japanese crows (a variety called jungle crows) are huge beasts, and I know they are omnivorous, but I thought their hunting was limited to bugs and worms and the like. This rat was fully half its size, and I assume as wily and vicious as any wild rat. This was either a very hungry or very badass crow.

After a few minutes of hiding in the bushes the rat made a run for it, heading across the sidewalk and past us (a little too close for comfort) and into the convenience store parking lot. Which was walled on two sides and open to a street and the sidewalk on the other sides. The crow flew right behind it and the rat headed straight to the walled-in corner where it was, of course, trapped. It dashed back and forth and tried frantically to jump up the wall- holy cow could it ever jump high! Not high enough though, and in a desperate last-ditch effort to escape it ran out into the street. Where the crow finally swooped in and grabbed it, catching it with such ease that I couldn't help thinking that it could have ended the chase long before then and had just been toying with the rat.

So the crow flew awkwardly away, the squirming rat squirming in its claws. And we both stood there with our mouths hanging open, asking each other "Did you see that?". I wasn't sure how to feel, like in a documentary where there's a cheetah chasing a gazelle and you want to root for the gazelle but you know the cheetah has to catch it to survive so you're also rooting for the cheetah and you just wish the cheetah would come across some already dead animal (that had died peacefully of old age of course) and let the gazelle go and they'd all live happily ever after. Except this was the exact opposite of that and I was kind of hoping the crow and the rat would somehow both get eaten.

I've kept a close eye on the crows since then. There are several times of year when they're especially numerous and active: they love eating wild cherries in early summer and persimmons in the autumn, and they really like a kind beetle that comes out in June and the tent caterpillars that come after that. And they go absolutely apeshit over the cicada pupas that crawl out of the ground in July and August. But the biggest prey I've seen them stalk so far is a squeeze bottle of Kewpie mayonnaise.

Soon after the crow incident I was in Canada facing even greater perils: fire ants. They have invaded my hometown, apparently because our winters are no longer cold enough to keep them down south in America where they belong. So I was unable to go to the local park for berry-picking or walks with my Dad (which always involve lots of standing around while he looks for some special bush or something he saw last year) without either wearing shoes and socks or suffering the painful consequences. And I hate wearing shoes and socks in the summer almost as much as I hate pain. It was awful.

There was also supposed to be an invasion of deadly hogweed, which according to the Toronto papers would either blind or kill all who come across it. We never saw any though (but the fire ant-covered plant above was a suspect for a while), and after a couple of days of weedy hysteria I never heard about it again. Toronto folks: whatever happened with the hogweed?

Also while I was back home, I kept a brief journal and this is an entry from the first week:

"Woke up at 6, hiccups. Nobody up yet, nothing to do, nothing open. Looking out window to backyard saw 3 squirrels, cardinal, sparrows, blackbirds, turtle dove, grackle, starlings, budgie, mouse."

And now I remember it. The hiccups refer to the baby in my tummy, who used to hiccup at least once a day (and he kept it up until he was about three months old- now I really miss it). My dad has several birdhouses and feeders set up in the backyard, which mostly attract squirrels but also bring in the occasional bird. Cardinals are always a treat to see. We used to get more blue jays- I think the West Nile virus wiped most of them out. And last year for a few weeks a budgie was a regular at our bird feeders. We were planning to try to catch it and then put up signs looking for its owner, but one day it just stopped coming around. We figure either it found its way home or a cat ate it. Or maybe a crow got it.

(Off topic, but the journal's entry for the day before is "Mango run. Man behind me at checkout asked what they were.". I love how my dad and I went crazy for mangoes last year, I love how a stranger asked me about my produce (would never happen in Japan), I love how there are people who don't know what mangoes are, and I love that I wrote it down because I would have forgotten it otherwise.)

Back in Japan last year, while walking at our local park, I did a double take when I passed what appeared to be a chicken. It was a chicken, pecking away at the grass like it belonged there. Now this is Wako Jurin Koen, a fairly large and verdant park in Wakoshi, Saitama. It's not central Tokyo, but it's not farm country either and you certainly don't expect to see livestock while out for a stroll. So that evening I mentioned it to Hideaki and he said "Oh, you saw the chicken?". All casual-like, no big deal, as if I'd mentioned seeing the neighbors roses in bloom or the Big Dipper or something.

So apparently he'd seen the chicken a few times before and had not found it remarkable enough to mention. Which proves that he really doesn't know anything about me, because that's just the kind of news that would make my day. Hell, it would probably make my month.

We wondered how it could survive in the park, a place where there's always lots of people walking their dogs, and a small population of stray cats, and in the summer a few homeless men, who surely must get hungry. And those crows! It's a total mystery. But while Hideaki continued to spot it occasionally, I didn't see it for months. I was starting to get worried, and then one day in the fall while out walking with my little newborn Shuma I saw it. That's him above, isn't he a beauty? It seemed totally unafraid and I was able to get close, but not too close- see those murderous claws? I had a baby to protect.

There was a man nearby who looked like he knew the chicken, so I asked him what the deal was. And I am able to report to you all that I still don't have a clue, because I couldn't understand a god-damn thing he said. A combination of the muffling effect of the face mask, some kind of weird provincial accent, and just the generally unintelligible way old Japanese men talk caused his long, and no doubt very helpful and interesing, explanation to be completely lost on me. But my guess is that it's his pet and he brings it to the park on nice days to eat bugs and stuff. To fatten it up, I suppose. Come to think of it, I haven't seen the chicken in months.

Hatsuhanami

We had an ohanami (cherry blossom viewing) picnic yesterday, a bit late in the season but our usual spot still had enough flowers on the trees to enchant Shuma. It was his hatsuhanami (first hanami) and was very well timed, as he's starting to really notice stuff around him.

Above is the view I had, and below is our picnic. Nothing fancy, just home cured gravlax and cream cheese on whole wheat (still loving my new breadmaker); cherry tomatoes; fava beans; pineapple; leftover tuna, red pepper and shungiku (chysanthemum greens) frittata; and ham-wrapped carrot sticks. A proper Japanese style bento would have been nice, but until Shuma either grows up or learns to nap, sandwiches it is.

Shuma was kind enough to pre-moisten our sake cups. After that they were filled with sparkling sake, which I bought because it was the only small bottle of sake from the Tohoku region I could find. I didn't expect much but it was nice, although more like cheap Asti than sake. Not that there is anything at all wrong with cheap Asti, but right now northern Japan needs all the help it can get.

Shuma's interest in cherry blossoms, like most things, revolves around whether or not they fit in his mouth. So after having to pry theseventh petal out of his hands or mouth we gave up letting him play with them. So he just enjoyed the view, and we enjoyed viewing him enjoy the view, and much enjoyment was had by all. A very good hatsuhanami.

More pictures are here.

Fall Colours

Fall is in full swing and the local leaves are looking pretty. These are some of the sights I see on my regular walking route (plus one gratuitous baby shot- just couldn't help myself).

Hanami

I thought this might be a hanami-free year, but I managed to go cherry blossom viewing in Shinjuku Gyoen, my favourite park in Tokyo, last week with a friend. It was too chilly to set up a picnic so this was just a walk-by hanami, but I'm glad I got the chance to see some pretty blossoms outside of my own neighborhood. I'll present some of the pictures from the day without comment, but keep your eyes peeled for public napping, lots of posing, a man not interested in the flowers (or his girlfriend) so much as a nice pair of legs, a hanami-ing turtle, and a girl livening up a snapshot with a confetti-toss of sakura petals.

See more pictures of Shinjuku Gyoen (from today's and previous visits) here, and more sakura pictures here.

Ogasawara: Hahajima Day One

This is the fourth part in a series on my trip to Ogasawara. The introduction is here, and the previous post is here.

Tetsuya's breakfast turned out to be just as nice as its dinner (see previous post), and again the portions were just right. I wouldn't call it a small breakfast but it was lighter and more balanced than most Japanese hotel breakfasts, including the heavy morning meal we'd had the day before. How nice to have fruit in the morning! This was also the first meal that actually kind of reflected the tropical setting.

At left: thick Japanese style toast with lemon curd, made locally from Ogasawara lemons. On the plate, clockwise from left: yogurt with local passion fruit sauce; fresh local pineapple and passion fruit; cheese and nama ham (parma-style cured ham); herbed sausages; tamagoyaki (thick Japanese omelet) with seaweed. At right, green salad and orange juice. "Western" style breakfasts in Japan always include salad, which I usually find a bit odd, but this one was quite welcome as it included a local plant. The dark green and purple leaves seen above are harutama, also called hantama, ginjisou, or suizenjina (Okinawan spinach, Gynura bicolor). Imported from Okinawa, it grows well on Ogasawara. 

Here's the toast all curded up. The lemon curd was delicious and I vowed to hunt some down and buy it for myself.

Then it was time to pack up. Above is the seashell and coral collection I'd set out in my room's open-air bathroom to dry (no, that's not the light of a beautiful sunrise: the bathroom's nightlight was red). There are only a few beaches where the collecting of shells is allowed, and I took full advantage. And then I had to find a way to fit them all into my suitcase.

We were driven to the ferry terminal and boarded the Hahajima Maru, above (picture taken the previous day in better weather). The Hahajima runs between Chichijima and Hahajima, the main islands of Ogasawara, taking just over two hours. It runs on a varied schedule but runs almost every day, usually making two crossings per day.

Above, we're heading out of the bay, passing the larger Ogasawara Maru that connects Chichijima to Tokyo.

The Hahajima Maru is much smaller than the Ogasawara Maru and since it's a short trip there are no private rooms or beds. Instead, passengers can choose to sit out on the deck or inside in reclining seats, shown above.

Or they can go down to the open berth below for a quick nap, which is what these guys did, apparently having been out late the night before.

When Hahjima came into view I thought it looked wilder and lusher than Chichijima. I kept wishing the weather was nicer, but the fog did add a nice touch.

Soon we were landing in Oki Wan (Oki Bay), Hahajima's main port (see it on Google Maps here). It was indeed wilder than Chichijima, with fewer buildings and a prettier landscape.

We were split into two groups and taken straight to our lodgings. I was put up at Island Resort Nanpu, which looked more like a cheap apartment building than a "resort", at least from the outside. Actually its own website describes the place not only as an "island resort" but as a minshuku (family inn) and pension as well, all quite different categories. I would have called it a dormitory or budget hotel.

It was fairly institutional on the inside, but clean, new and nice enough.

This time we were two to a room, and I shared this one with Laura. It was by far the smallest place I'd stayed at on this trip, but pretty normal for Japan and very clean and cozy. It had the basics in the room like a unit bath, TV and mini-fridge, and on each floor was a corner with a computer and a little kitchen set up with a water cooler, electric kettle, drinks and a microwave, all for communal use, as well as a nice jacuzzi that was unfortunately in another building and needed to be reserved.

We only had time to drop off our bags before being driven back to the ferry terminal at Oki Bay, where we began a half-day tour of the island. At the terminal our tour guide, an nice older fellow, started by handing us some maps and printouts, and started in on a rather long speech about himself and how he'd ended up on the island. I took this as a sign that the tour would be very much Japanese style.

And it was. First we were taken on a very long drive to Kita Kou (Kita Port) at the northernmost limit of the island's main road (see it on a map here). Before the war the port was home to Kita Mura, a village of 600 people who mostly made their living in the local fishing and sugarcane industries. We were given a very brief explanation about he history, none of which I could understand, then had a few minutes to explore but sadly there was almost nothing left of the village and therefore nothing to see.

So back into the cars we went, heading south to our next stop. We passed some interesting looking ruins and had to beg our driver to stop and let us look, and discovered it was the sight of the village's elementary school, founded in 1887. The jungle had mostly taken over, but among the structures left standing were parts of the school gates, made of re-used sugarcane rollers, seen above. (All of the above I found out later, as this wasn't an official part of our tour.)

Our next stop was Higashi Kou (Higashi Port), a very long and desolate strip of concrete jutting into an otherwise pretty but nondescript bay (map here). There were no boats docked, no other people to be seen, and absolutely nothing to do. Apparently the port had been used in the island's short-lived whaling industry in the 80's (this we found out afterward though, as our guide would only tell us the port was "sometimes" used by fishing boats). We had wondered at the time why such a huge and useless dock was built, but since nothing goes as well together in Japan as commercial whaling and excessive government spending, it really wasn't much of a mystery. Only in Japan would this port be included in a tour, and Mark's expression (and Mike up on the pole searching in vain for something to look at) above really captures our impression of the place.

Finally we were taken to a forest reserve near Kuwanoki-san (Mount Kuwanoki), where we were walked through a bit of the forest. Birds and trees were specialties of our guide, above, and he talked at length about them, and although I would have liked more walking and less talking it probably would have been quite interesting if I'd understood more. Apparently a number of once numerous native trees are being displaced by invasive species, but I couldn't really tell which were which and can't remember any of their names beyond the mountain's namesake kuwanoki (which means mulberry tree).

The tour over, we were driven back to the terminal and set loose with bentos for lunch. This one was a more manageable size than the previous day's bento but still quite a lot of food.

As usual, the only island touch was shikakumame (wing beans), this time worked into one of the onigiri (rice ball). As with the previous two days, I thought it would have been so nice to have been given an hour of free time to find our own lunch, or to skip lunch entirely. As it happened we did have a bit of time after our bentos were gone- not enough to go far but just enough to walk around and see a bit of Oki Mura, the island's only village.

We'd driven by a few of these signs, with me always wanting to ask to stop so I could take a picture. I'd refrained though, because I'm probably the only person in the world who'd want to take a picture of a roadside sign (except for my Dad). But we walked by this one so I finally got my chance. Isn't it cute?

We came upon this kid-filled banyan tree and stopped to have a look. The kids were friendly and invited us to join them so played around a bit, or tried to, but an adult in flip-flops is not quite so agile as a little kid and after a few attempts at climbing I fell. I've fallen out of many trees before but this was the first time I'd fallen into one- we definitely did not have banyan trees where I grew up (but if they did I'd be a pro at climbing them for sure).

Our free time over, we returned to the terminal and were packed back into the vans. The same guide brought us to the southern tip of the island for a hike. This time there was little talking but as happy as I was to be walking there was little time to stop and enjoy whatever sights we passed, as we were hurried along at a very fast pace.

I did manage to stop and admire this takonoki (Pandanus boninensis). Takonoki literally means "octopus tree", so named for its tentacle-like roots, and this particular tree had very interesting, er, tentacles. (Yes, I'm an eleven-year-old-boy at heart.)

After a while we came to Suribachi, a formation named after the traditional earthenware mortar used in Japan (see the location on Google Maps here). The red soil was neat but what I was really happy to see was the ocean.

Soon we were at a lookout with a tantalizing view of the water. None of us knew exactly where we were going but were all hoping for a beach, and that's where we seemed to be headed.

And then we were at the top of a hill, and our guide told us we had reached our goal. This was Kofuji-san, literally "Little Fuji Mountain", said to be the southernmost of Japan's many little Fujis, all named after a vague resemblance to the real Mount Fuji (map here). Um, yay.

The view was certainly beautiful, but it drove us crazy to be looking down at a beach and not actually be on it. I had enjoyed the hike, despite the fast pace, but now felt kind of ripped off.

There was a little crater on the hill with this rusted bit of machinery. The guide confirmed it was from the war but refused to say anything else and was soon trying to hurry us back down the trail. We protested and eventually, after much begging on our part and discussion on our handlers' part, it was agreed that if we could make it down really quickly we could have a short time at the beach.

On the way down we got separated and half of us ended up at Minamizaki, the beach we'd seen from atop Kofuji-san. It turned out to not be quite as nice as it had seemed from above, although I tried to have a little swim. After having a few too many big rocks roll onto my feet I gave up, and later learned that the beach is great for snorkeling but because of the rocks and strong tide not used for swimming. Oh well. At top right you can see part of Kofuji-san, the hill we'd just come from.

The other group apparently ended up at a much better beach, and as we waited for them to return to our designated meeting point I asked a local government employee (one of the many officials accompanying us that day) about the nuts that were all over the ground. We'd seen them on Chichijima too, although at an earlier stage (either new and green or a bit riper and lined with fragrant red flesh). These ones were older and I found a big pile of their empty shells, above. The official told us that they were seeds from the momotamana (Indian almond, Terminalia catappa) tree and the empties had been eaten by rats.

She said that the nuts inside had been a popular snack when she was a child and proceeded to show us how to eat them. First you select a mature nut- the one above is just right, any darker and it's probably gone bad.

Placing the nut on a rock, you bash it carefully with another rock, trying to break it cleanly in half. If you aren't careful you'll just smash the whole thing and the pieces of nut will be too hard to retrieve. Done right, you get a few long, thin nuts that taste like a mild almond. This turned out to be my favourite part of the day, and I spent a good fifteen minutes smashing and eating the nuts. Unfortunately my hands got too dirty to take a picture of an opened nut, which is just as well as they aren't much to look at. But lots of fun to eat.

The tour ended and once back at Nanpu I had time to try out the bath next door, which turned out to be a fancy jacuzzi type that put on a fancy light show. It was nice at first but I ended up feeling quite lonely, as this is exactly the type of bath found in a typical Japanese love hotel, and I'd never found myself alone in such a tub. So I didn't stay long, and when I got back Laura and I headed to Nanpu's restaurant for a pre-dinner drink. The restaurant, Austro, was open to the public (apparently as one of Hahajima's three restaurants) and quite nice, and the meal was much better than I'd expected given the simplicity of the hotel.

Clockwise from left: rice, assorted sashimi  (two types of tuna and local kappore, or black jack); "pork saute" (actually more like tatsuta-age, or deep-fried pork); miso soup; atsu-age (fried tofu) stewed with chicken meatball and komatsuna greens; gomadofu ("tofu" made from sesame seeds); island grown okra and shikaku-mame (wing bean) fritters; locally grown cucumbers dressed with sesame seeds. There was also caramel mousse for dessert, not shown. This was a tasty meal, and I liked the effort put into using local ingredients.

After dinner we were brought to the local town hall for a meeting with local tourism people. It was similar to the previous night's meeting but a bit more relaxed, and instead of making us give speeches it was in a question-and-answers format. I was much less nervous but still didn't manage to offer any brilliant observations. However the locals were friendly and again seemed appreciative of our opinions.

Next the owner of the inn where the other half of our group was staying invited us over for a little celebration. Arriving early, I got to check out the place a bit. The inn was called La Mere and was cute and cozy, with a large communal area that made it seen warmer and friendlier than our place. A nice outdoor deck and large skylight were sweet touches I would have liked to have seen by day.

The owner and her staff set out drinks and snacks for us. The drinks included shochu (a vodka-like clear alcohol) on the rocks with a squeeze of buntan.

Buntan is a juicy, grapefruit-like variety of citrus, and although it's not originally from Ogasawara it is widely grown here. I can attest that it's very refreshing with shochu, but after downing my drinks a bit too quickly I gave up the shochu part and can also report that buntan is also good to eat.

Just before leaving I noticed that one of the locals had my favourite sign on his t-shirt. He said the shirt was widely available as a souvenir but I insisted on getting a picture, and I'm glad I did as I never saw it on sale. I would love a t-shirt like this!

Part five of this series to come soon. See more pictures of the day in my Hahajima album and all the pictures from the trip in my Ogasawara album.

Sakura season

Tokyo's cherry blossoms are blooming and it finally looks like spring, but the weather still feels like winter. This past weekend saw the sakura at their peak but the cold weather made hanami (cherry blossom viewing parties) unthinkable.

The two pictures above were taken at the campus of the Tokyo Institute of Technology, where Hideaki, his sister's family and I took a quick peak at the flowers while passing by. And with a high that day of 10 degrees Celsius, a quick peak was all we were up for. Look how bundled up everyone is!

The weather finally turned nice yesterday, which is just as well as I had to go pick up my bike from the local train station (I had to leave it there few days ago because of an unexpected rainfall). The route to this station passes through two parks, both of which have a good number of cherry trees. These pictures of the nearest park, Oizumi Chuo Koen.

The racetrack, rimmed with cherry trees, was abandoned even though this is the nicest time of year to use it. Where was everyone?

The shibazakura (moss phlox) was not quite at its peak but still pretty enough to compete with the sakura.

The pond almost looked pretty for once (it is usually nothing more than a big mud puddle). 

This street separates not only two parks, but two prefectures: Tokyo is on the left and Saitama is on the right.

Traffic was unusually heavy (I had to wait quite a while to get these almost car-free shots) with drivers going slowly by to enjoy the tunnel of sakura.

When I turned around around from photographing the street, the pond had been taken over by little boys (with one big boy looking wistfully on). It's hard to see, but the boy in the centre has stripped down to his undies even though it was only about 16 degrees. I wondered what the boy on the left was trying to catch, until I saw them: three good sized turtles, clustered in the middle of the pond, well away from the net's reach. This is the first sign of life I've seen in the pond (which looked brand-new when we moved here five years ago) and I hope they're there to stay.

On my way home with my bike and a basket full of groceries I got to enjoy the luxury of a petal-lined path. I may not have been able to do hanami this year, but sidewalks strewn with cherry blossoms and camellias aren't so bad either.

See more sakura pictures, from this year and previous years, here.

Ogasawara: Chichijima Day Two

This post is the third in a series about a trip to the Ogasawara Islands. See post one here and post two here.

My second day on Chichijima started early, just after the sun rose. With a few hours to go before breakfast I donned my swimsuit, grabbed my snorkeling gear and walked across the street to the Ougiura Beach. Ougiura is a bit on the small side and probably not the island's most beautiful beach, but completely decent. Unfortunately it was a cloudy morning, so my pictures make it look far less attractive than it was (here is what the beach looks like in good weather). It was also cold and after a few minutes in the water I had to come out to warm up. There wasn't much to see underwater, and while the perfectly sandy bottom must make it a lovely beach in good weather, it was no good for snorkeling.

So I walked along the beach to warm up, coming across this relic from WWII. Stuff like this was all over the Ogasawara Islands, and I could never find any signs with explanations or people willing to talk about them. I found it quite different from Guam or Okinawa where anything to do with the war is made into a memorial.

Perhaps one reason that the reminders of the war are ignored here is the sheer number of them. Hunks of rusted machinery are still common, but more numerous are the entrances to the foxholes and tunnels that dot the rocky outcrops near beaches. Most are tiny, either just big enough to crawl into or fit a gun through, and they were hard enough to spot on naked rock. Camouflaged with foliage, the foxholes would have been virtually impossible to see, and thinking about that brought on an uneasy feeling that didn't seem to match the otherwise beautiful island. Unlike its similarly fortified neighbor to the south, Iwo Jima, Chichijima was never subject to a full-scale Allied invasion, but it did play an important role in the war. A role far more horrible than the long abandoned relics suggest, and for a quick description of what happened on Chichijima, read this review of the book Sorties Into Hell. Warning: it involves cannibalism (and that right there might be another reason why the islanders don't seem to embrace their wartime past).

Breakfast was at our hotel, Horizon, and was Japanese style. Clockwise from bottom left: rice; teriyaki grilled local fish; tamagoyaki (thick omelet); buri daikon (braised yellowtail with daikon radish); hiyayakko (cold tofu); stewed eggplant with katsuobushi (bonito flakes); pickled vegetables; miso soup; and a package of nori seaweed to go with the rice. All the food seemed to have been imported except for the grilled fish (and its garnish, munin hama-udo, a variety of angelica found on the islands).

It looks like a lot of food, and it was, but this is typical of Japanese hotels. The nicer the place, the more food they tend to serve, and on Chichijima it doesn't seem to matter if you're about to go on a dolphin swim: you're going to get stuffed. It was very tasty though, if a little heavily seasoned, and obviously made with care. Although dinner and breakfast is usually included at Japanese hotels, you can often arrange to stay without one or both meals, and if I was arranging my own trip to Chichijima I'd save this breakfast for one special day and skip it on the others.

So with full bellies we were driven to the headquarters of Sea-Tac, our tour company for the day, to get our equipment. I was a little taken aback to notice that all the men got super-long scuba diving type flippers and the women got short ones, but had no time to protest as we were herded back into the vans and brought to Futami Harbour to be loaded on to the Dancing Whale, Sea-Tac's boat. That's not it above, sorry (we were corralled so efficiently I didn't have time to get a picture of our boat).

Like all the tours we did on the islands this one was conducted in Japanese (although I later found out that Sea-Tac does English tours as well). It was quite different from the dolphin tours I've done on Mikurajima, in both good ways and bad. Bad in that the large boat held more people, making it a bit crowded when we were out in the water with the dolphins. I also wasn't crazy about the long speeches in the beginning blasted through the boat's speakers (you can't see it in the picture but our guides wore earpieces). But the boat was more comfortable than the tiny ones on Mikurajima, which was nice later on when I got a bit seasick. And after the dolphin sightings stopped we were brought to a coral reef where we snorkeled among tropical fish, which never happens on Mikurajima: there is literally nothing to see there except the dolphins and an occasional sea turtle. Overall I prefer the smaller, more intimate and friendly tours of Mikurajima, but this wasn't bad at all. (And sorry for all the comparisons to Mikurajima, it's the only place I've swum with dolphins before. Here and here are posts from my two most recent trips if you're interested). In fact it was the highlight of the trip, and I only wished that it was a full day tour instead of just the morning (OK, and I wished the weather was nicer too).

The speeches were given as we pulled out of the bay, and although it wasn't as pretty as it looked in the previous morning's sunny weather, we were soon treated to impressive sights. 

We followed Chichijima's coastline, cruising around rocky outcrops and between tiny volcanic islands while keeping our eyes peeled for dolphins. These pictures, as usual, completely fail at capturing the beauty of the place, from the amazing blue of the water to the lush green of the hills. It would take better weather, a better camera and a much better photographer to really get it right.

This is John Beach, one of the island's secluded beaches that can only be reached by a ninety minute hike.

And this is the neighboring Jinny Beach, which takes two hours to get to. Here's how it looks in good weather.

In other seasons several varieties of seabirds nest on the little rocky islands, but we saw surprisingly few birds of any type.

This is the entrance to Minami Jima, one of the most beautiful spots in the Ogasawaras. It is just south of Chichijima and can only be reached by swimming with a guide from a boat through the hole the rocky wall seen above. The number of visitors is strictly controlled and unfortunately the island is completely off-limits from November to early February, so all we could do was cruise slowly by. Here's how it looks from the inside.

Soon after passing Minami Jima we spotted a couple of dolphins, so we geared up and slipped into the water. It was a mother and adolescent and they stuck around for a short time to check us out and then took off again. We came across them a few more times but were never able to see any other dolphins. It was hard to be disappointed at not seeing more, as even two dolphins are an amazing sight, and we did get to spend a decent amount of time with them. I had decided not to use my underwater camera, as it broke the last time I took it snorkeling, so no pictures, but here's a random blog post from someone who bothered to use his camera.

But once we'd given up on the dolphins and anchored at a coral reef I changed my mind about the camera. This may not have a been world-class snorkeling spot, but I'd never seen such a variety of fish and was amazed. I think I even liked this better than the dolphins, and I soon lost track of all the kinds of fish I saw. As for the quality of the following pictures, the usual excuses apply, but believe me: it was beautiful.

I actually saw way more fish than shown here, but those suckers move fast and many stick the the deeper parts of the reef, which were inaccessible to me, not being able to dive like the dude above, and to my camera, which can only be used close to the surface. And damn it, despite being extra careful my camera still conked out after ten minutes in the water. Luckily I had a backup, though it wasn't an underwater camera so that was it for the fish pics.

After the tour ended we were brought to our new hotels. I lucked out again and got to stay at Tetsuya with Helen and the two Tokyo government ladies. Tetsuya bills itself as a "healing house" (their translation of kutsurogi no yado) and is what would be called in English an eco hotel. Tetsuya's website and printed materials frequently use the word "lohas", a term that I despise (it is used somewhat differently, and usually meaninglessly, in Japanese than the English acronym LOHAS). So I was skeptical and prepared to be disappointed but Tetsuya impressed the hell out of me. I liked it better than Horizon, which is supposed to be the island's best hotel, and when I make it back to Chichijima this is where I'll be staying. If I can afford it.

I am actually rather spoiled to be comparing Horizon to Tetsuya, as I am the only tour member to stay at both. The others had at least one night at a minshuku (family run inn), and although minshuku can be nice and homey apparently one of them was, to put it nicely, on the rustic side.

Tetsuya has a few rooms in the main building, and two more rooms in small detached buildings. Helen got to stay in one of the detached rooms, above, which had an open-air bathroom on the ground floor and the sleeping quarters, accessed by a neat trap door, on the second floor.

My room was in the main building and just lovely, filled with wood and natural materials and with three walls of windows that let in plenty of light and air.  

Maybe the only downside to the place is that all rooms have twin beds only, which would be a major bummer for a foreign couple wanting a romantic vacation (Japanese couples actually seem to prefer twin beds though, which I find hilarious). But all by myself my little bed was more than comfortable enough.

 

I loved the open bathroom. It had the toilet in the same room as the tub and washing area, which is a little unusual for a nice hotel in Japan and made me wonder what a Japanese couple would do if one had to bathe or wash up at the same time as the other had to use the can. I mean, two people who are not intimate enough to share a bed probably don't want to pee in front of each other. Thankfully the windows and door to the bathroom can be covered with blinds, so at least a person in the room wouldn't have to witness the goings-on of the bathroom.  

Having a bath outdoors is quite a luxury, and although I've experienced rotemburo (open-air hot spring) in Japan and an outdoor shower in Bali, this was my first outdoor bathing experience that involved a visit from a gecko (all I got in Bali was roach).

And here is the view from the throne. This is probably way too much information, but my travel-induced bempi (I'll let you figure out what that means) ended here and I'm sure it was the view and general relaxing vibe of the hotel that did it. Healing hotel indeed. I think Tetsuya earned its "eco" status as well with touches like nice-smelling soap and shampoo in refillable dispensers, real cups and glasses instead of disposable plastic, a small potto (electric kettle) for tea that was unplugged on arrival (most hotels have larger kettles that are constantly plugged in), lots of well-spaced windows that let in so much light and air that I didn't touch the AC and only needed the lights (compact fluorescent of course) at night, and meals that included more local fare than anywhere else.

Lunch was a bento and bottled tea (given to us after the tour) eaten alone in our rooms. A little lonely, and again the only thing part of the meal that seemed not to be imported was the shikaku mame (wing bean) at bottom right. After the morning's giant breakfast this large, greasy bento was not what I wanted at all, so I ended up throwing most of it away and feeling really guilty about it. Why the Japanese equate vacations with massive meals is beyond me (but now that I think about it, it may help explain the ubiquitous twin beds, because there's no better romance killer than an over-stuffed belly).

After lunch came four precious hours of free time, which Helen and I used to walk to the beach. Tetsuya is nicely located, far from town and near a park and Kominato Kaigan, the beach we'd visited on yesterday's tour (see Tetsuya on this map, it's the green-roofed building to the right).

The beach was a short walk, either by road or by river-side path (I took the pretty path home but it rained a bit so didn't get any pictures). The road there was nice enough though, lined with pretty and exotic flowers and eventually meeting up with the river.

This is the same place we went the day before, where the island's southernmost road ends. I checked out the rocky cliff side we'd seen on the previous days tour again, since I hadn't been able to get a picture of the gun hole. That's it below, can you spot it? I couldn't find the tunnel entrance, but apparently parts of the island have a labyrinth of tunnels underground so the entrance could be quite some distance away.

The beach had looked prettier yesterday when the sun was out, but it was more than nice enough for us. After a quick dip Helen left to visit the agricultural center and I had the whole beach to myself, expect for a family that came just as I was leaving. There wasn't much to see underwater so I left my mask and snorkel on the beach and just swam for a while, until I got curious about the rocky edges of the beach. So I geared back up and swam over to the right side, and was rewarded with a rocky bottom that had a decent amount of fish, although not quite the variety I'd seen in the morning and not really any coral. Still, for a sandy beach this was very nice snorkeling and I especially liked swimming through the two little tunnels seen above.

Far to the right Kopepe Beach was visible. I'd heard it's possible to swim over and was tempted to do so, but since I was all alone in iffy weather and not a very strong swimmer to begin with I decided not to. Besides, we had to be back for an early dinner.

So I swam over to the left side of the beach, collecting shells as I went. There wasn't as much to see on this side so I decided to have one last swim before heading back. As I was swimming I happened to lift my head up and look back, and just then a little fish jumped straight out of the water a little ways behind me. As I wondered what would cause a fish to jump like that, I saw another fish do the same thing off to my left. Now why would two fish need to get out of the water in such a hurry like that? It suddenly dawned on me: SHARK! I frantically swam back to shore and crawled onto land, where I sat for a few minutes waiting for my heart to stop thumping. When I finally calmed down I felt really stupid and was glad there was no one around to see me. After all, although sharks are often sighted around the islands they surely wouldn't come it so close to shore. Or would they? I had been swimming in fairly deep water, about three metres perhaps, which seems to me would be more than enough room to fit a man-eating shark. So just for the fun of it, until someone can tell my why those fish were jumping like that, I'm going to just assume that I narrowly missed a horrible death in the jaws of a blood thirsty shark.

Dinner was at the uncivilized hour of 5:30. Most hotels in Japan have set times for meals, which can be a huge annoyance, but in this case the early time was decided our handlers rather than the hotel, as we had a big meeting in the evening. Helen and I each ordered a passion fruit cocktail to begin with, and it was delicious.

The meal started with three courses served together (I think if our schedule hadn't rushed the dinner they'd be served separately). From left: sode-ika no kimi-ae (diamondback squid dressed in egg yolk), garnished with vegetables, shiso (perilla) salmon roe and dried uni (sea urchin); akamutsu no kombujime (rosy seabass sashimi cured with kombu kelp) topped with wasabi and tobiko (flying fish roe) and served in a light broth with local seaweed; and jizakana to kaki no mizore-ni (local fish and oysters poached with grated daikon) garnished with shimeji mushrooms and vegetables. This local fish turned out to be called ogo (himedai in mainland Japanese and lavender jobfish in English). The squid in the first dish was local and is apparently a favourite of the local sperm whales, and although the seabass and tobiko weren't specified as local they are often caught off of Chichijima so I'm inclined to think they were.

All three of these were great, and we were especially blown away with the first one with the squid. I suspect the second dish, with the sashimi, would have been even more impressive if we'd eaten fist, but it was very subtly flavoured and the richly dressed squid just overwhelmed it. Unfortunately we had to eat very quickly because of the meeting, and sadly this amazing meal suffered by not being slowly savoured.

Shimajaga to unagi no isobe-age (locally grown potatoes and eel, wrapped in nori seaweed and deep-fried), garnished with shishito peppers, thinly sliced daikon, strands of chili pepper and matcha salt. This was an ambitious dish and I liked the chewiness of the potato (enhanced by some kind of starch) contrasted with the crisp nori, but found the unagi to be too mild.

This dish, excuse the bad focus, is black sesame stew with Japanese beef shank. The meat was tender and delicious and the sauce definitely interesting, and while this is one of Tetsuya's signature dishes it wasn't my favourite of the meal (that would be a tie between the first two courses, which are also signature dishes).

The last savoury course was shikaku mame no surinagashi (pureed wing bean soup with soy milk). I'm not normally a soy milk fan but this soup was fresh, creamy and lovely. 

We finished with a tiny scoop of papaya ice cream, and were sorry to see the meal end. This was easily the best food of the trip and it sucks that we had to rush through it. Unusually it was just the right amount of food: we were full but not overly stuffed, and I wish all hotel meals could get this right.

So on to the meeting. We were packed into an impatiently waiting van (despite our rushed dinner we still managed to be late) and brought to the ferry terminal, which had been set up especially for us. The first part of the evening was fairly painless and involved us watching a few nanyo odori dances. Nanyo odori is the island's traditional dance, but it's not a particularly long tradition. It is heavily influenced by Pacific Island dances and was apparently introduced to the Ogasawaras in the 1930's by a westerner who had learned traditional dances on Saipan. It was originally called dojin odori (native dance or aboriginal dance) and performed in grass skirts, leis and blackface, but thankfully that last tradition has died out and the word dojin is now considered offensive. The modern name nanyo odori, coined in the 80's, simply means "South Seas dance", and the grass skirts and leis are still worn (I was dying to ask the man above if there was any special significance to his hemp lei, but sadly there was no time for questions).

The dances were performed to singing and we were given song sheets, in Japanese, and encouraged to sing along. The only musical instrument accompaniment was the simple kaka drum shown above.

After the dance performance came what we'd been dreading: we were given grass skirts and leis of our very own and made to get up do a dance in front of an audience. Yup, as we'd been watching the dances the terminal behind us had been quietly filling up with onlookers, and I could tell my fellow foreigners wanted to escape as badly I did. But no, it was time to earn our keep. I imagine we looked about as awesome as foreigners on the mainland do when made to dress up in yukata and kimono and do bon odori dances for their delighted Japanese hosts. But it was over quickly, and I was soon looking back on the dance with nostalgia. Because the worst was yet to come.

We were seated in a panel formation in front of the onlookers, who turned out to be mostly people in the tourism industry. And then we were given microphones and each made to give a speech about our impressions of the island from our special foreign points of view, and what could be done to encourage more foreigners to visit. I found it funny that our opinions as outsiders were so sought after despite the fact the tour was only available to fluent Japanese speakers (they made a special exception for me), and most of us had been living in Japan for well over a decade, had a Japanese spouse and were well-immersed in our adopted country.

The others had some great ideas that were expressed in fluent Japanese, and a few of them were fantastic public speakers to boot. The audience was really impressed, and to my great surprise (as good as everyone's points were, they mostly seemed common-sense to me) they seemed to be hearing most of these ideas for the first time. And then it was my turn. I had known we'd have to be giving our ideas, but was totally unprepared for doing so in this format, especially after less than two days on Chichijima. I did actually have some ideas of my own but not the Japanese skills to communicate them, so ended up with a really dumb point, chosen only because it was a simple one that I actually had the ability to express. And even then I was barely able to choke the words out. It turns out that poor Japanese ability, a poor idea and poor public speaking skills, even coming from the unique and exotic viewpoint of a foreigner, do not go over well at this type of meeting. I haven't felt so lame since high school.

The highlight of the meeting was near the end when one of the audience members, who could have been a fisherman or a grandpa or a retired pirate, stood up and spoke. He had long hair in a pony tail and seemed like he might be an old Japanese man, but had one of those faces that gives few clues about its owners age or race. He smiled and told us in English (the only English we got that night) that to really get the full Ogasawara experience we should try the ferry on the cheapest 2nd class ticket, with an open sleeping berth. Then he turned around and walked out. I guess with his English and unusual appearance he was a descendant of one of the original western settlers, and it would have been cool if he'd stayed and talked more. As for his advice, he's right that it probably would have been much more fun and authentic if we'd made our journey together in the 2nd class open area. But far less comfortable. I've done the cheap ferry thing before, on a 24-hour journey to Okinawa, and after the first several hours the fun is directly proportionate to how drunk and male you are. It's less amusing once you actually get tired and want to sleep. But he had a good point: with the entire trip involving us traveling the fancy way, staying in private and semi-private rooms, and having every single thing arranged for us, we weren't getting the full experience and thus were not really qualified to give our opinions on tourism to the islands.

After a brief question and answer time the meeting mercifully ended, and we were invited out to a local bar with some of the meeting's organizers and attendees. The bar was a cute place called Green Pepe (no website) and I'm pretty sure that the well-lubricated communication that went on between us foreign tour participants and the local folks was far more valuable than what went on at the meeting earlier. It was definitely more fun.

Part four in the series coming soon. Meanwhile, see more pictures from the trip here.

Ogasawara: Chichijima Day One

In my last Ogasawara post I introduced the islands, described how I came to be included in a free trip there, and wrote about the long journey from Tokyo. This post is about my first day on the main island, Chichijima.

We'd been on the ferry from Tokyo for twenty five and a half hours, exactly as scheduled, when we finally entered Futami Harbour, the main port of Chichijima. Chichijima is the largest of Ogasawara's thirty-some islands and is home to about 2000 permanent residents. As we neared the dock a little boat came out to great us, its crew waving as it circled our ferry. It was kind of a nice way to be welcomed to the island but I just assumed it was a cheesy advertisement and put it out of my mind until a few days later, when the boat was part of a much more impressive display.

I may have had overly high expectations, but was kind of assuming the island would have a distinctly tropical atmosphere and was slightly disappointed to see the same tetrapods and concrete as on the mainland. It by no means looked like Tokyo, yet it also didn't feel like I'd left Japan. And of course I hadn't left Japan (if fact we technically hadn't even left Tokyo), but I had expected I'd feel like I had. I'm not terribly well-traveled, but when I've stepped off the plane in places like Jamaica, Bali or Okinawa I've felt instantly that I had arrived somewhere very different and very special, someplace with its own vibe. Things looked different, people talked differently, even the air felt different: hot and tropical and sweet-smelling.

But I didn't have that feeling as I stepped off the ferry. It was probably due more to the mode of transportation than the island itself: an airplane landing is much more dramatic than the arrival of a ferry, which after all has been chugging alongside the islands for hours, acclimatizing its passengers long before docking. And to be fair, there was one clue that we were on a semi-tropical island: it was hot. I had long since packed away my winter jacket but now even in my short sleeves I was sweating.

As we waited to regroup and meet our hosts I watched the ferry empty itself of passengers and cargo. There was an awful lot of it, mostly in the form of shipping containers. We later learned that the ferry operates at a loss as a passenger vessel and is only kept in business to deliver cargo (and even then it relies on government subsidies).

We were met by various Tokyo government workers and local tourism folks who whisked us off to lunch. On the way things started to look a little more exotic: the streets of Tokyo are definitely not lined with birds of paradise. I was also surprised to see a helicopter landing, above, and I'm sure I wasn't the only one who wished we'd arrived by air rather than sea. Apparently helicopter access is restricted to military and medical use, though.

Lunch was at a restaurant called Charlie Brown. We were served egg drop miso soup and a plate of, from bottom left: mekajiki no tatsuta-age (deep-fried swordfish), a salad including shikaku mame (wing bean, a vegetable most often found in South East Asia but also popular in Okinawa and Ogasawara), tuna sashimi, spaghetti napolitan (Japanese retro-style spaghetti with tomato sauce), and pork sauteed with onions and mushrooms. We estimated that almost all of the food was imported from the mainland, except of course for the shikaku mame. This by the way was the "omakase salad" which would have cost 800 yen if I'd been paying my own way (like all meals during the trip this was pre-arranged and the food ordered for us). It was tasty but a bit too heavy for the first meal after a long ferry trip.

We were given a short bit of free time, which the guys smartly used to hit the beach. With my full tummy I preferred to tag along with the ladies who were checking out the village in search of shopping opportunities.

The port is in Ogasawara Mura, the main village, which consists of a few streets lined with shops and restaurants for tourists and locals alike. There are also regular folks' houses scattered here and there,and it was neat to check out peoples' gardens. Some of the houses, like the one above, reminded Helen of those found in New Zealand. Up close, I had to admit that this place was quite tropical and exotic, and if I was still having trouble detecting a distinct Chichijima atmosphere, at least it felt different from Tokyo. The sight of Tokyo election posters and the ubiquitous vending machines were a bit jarring though.

The island's supermarket was small but quite impressively stocked with exotica like dill pickles, taco shells, chutney, and other things that can be hard to find even on mainland Tokyo. We wondered if this reflected the number of foreign visitors or the number of island locals with foreign roots. There are said to still be a fair number descendants of the original non-Japanese settlers on the island, and although most people we saw looked purely Japanese (and everyone spoke Japanese) there must be some explanation for all of the foreign food.

There were a few souvenir shops that lured us in with neat stuff like passion fruit jam and then repelled us with with a bunch of junk that ranged from merely tacky to downright offensive.

There were also plenty of tour companies, but before we got a chance to check those out it was time to meet up with our handlers and start a tour of our own.

We were loaded into a few minivans and driven a short distance south to see a WWII era shipwreck (located here on Google maps if you're interested). It was an interesting sight but as a kayak approached it from the shore we all watched wistfully, wishing we were were seeing the wreck up close rather than from the side of a road.

This particular road was lined not with with birds of paradise but with hibiscus bushes. I may not have been in the water but I was definitely starting to feel tropical.

Next we were driven to the end of the road and got to begin a walking tour. This was the southernmost point on the island accessible by car (map here) and was itself a pretty spot, next to Yatsuse-gawa, a slow-moving river. Finally, a chance to stretch our legs, and maybe even get near the ocean.

A number of trails started at this point, and visitors (or at least those visitors who can read Japanese) are meant to stop by this sign put up by a local conservation group and leave a record of where they went. The thing to do is to pick up a particular kind of rock or piece of coral representing who you are (as in a tourist, a native, a guide, etc) and drop it into the the tube marked with your destination.

So I left a lump of white coral in the tube for Nakayama-toge (Nakayama Pass), the trail we were taking. This was definitely one of those "only in Japan" things, as in any other country people would just claim the pretty rocks and corals as souvenirs.

So we started our tour, and I excitedly noticed the path turn sandy. Were we finally hitting the beach?

Yup! Off went my sandals as I made a run for the water, slowing down a bit to check out the little tracks above and ask our guide, Takizawa-san, what they were. He said to wait for the night tour, but I guessed that they were sand crabs and giant hermit crabs. They were indeed, but I wasn't able to get a picture of the critters that night so these tracks will have to do.

And then I realized that the tour was happening right here on the beach, and there'd be no chance to actually get in the water. This was a Japanese style tour, long on talking and short on fun, and although Takezawa-san was great, but the lure of the water was greater. I had to at least get my feet wet so I went as far into the water as I could while still being able to hear about the flora geology of the area. The water was a bit cooler than I expected but very nice, and it took all of my willpower not to jump in for a swim.

Alas, the tour moved on and I raced back to retrieve my sandals as the group headed to the hills. The group, by the way, consisted of ten foreign tour participants, two members of a tourism consulting company, two Tokyo government people from the mainland, three local Tokyo government people, and our guide. I think. We had so many people looking after us throughout the trip that it was hard to keep track.

The volcanic rock that jutted out of the sand was adorned with a spectacular pattern, and now I really was paying attention. Unfortunately I didn't get much of the explanation: my Japanese ability is such that I can normally understand about sixty to seventy percent of a regular conversation, but with a geology lecture I'm hopelessly lost. I would love to do this part of the tour again in English.

As we headed into the forest the subject changed to plant life, but this was also also mostly lost on me. The lushness of the island's flora was easy to appreciate without explanation though.

Here is a small collection of treasures found on our hike. From left: a takonoki (Pandanus boninensis, an endemic tree abundant in Ogasawara) seed husk, the seeds eaten out by birds, bats or rats; some kind of little pine cones; a momotamana (Terminalia catappa, or Indian almond, which is found in tropical regions around the world) fruit; and two hasunohagiri (Hernandia nymphaeifolia, or Jack in the box tree, common throughout the tropics including Hawaii, where the seed is used to make leis) fruit; and an unidentified seed pod. The leaf is from the momotamana tree, same as the green fruit.

This little geode is one treasure I really wanted to take, but it was embedded in a rather heavy rock and I didn't want to add to my already overly full suitcase.

Our path led us to a lookout with a fantastic view. The sun was starting to set and soon obscured by clouds so I only got a few pictures that showed the beautiful colour of the water, but even under cloudy skies the surrounding ocean and islands were an impressive sight. Above is the view to the north, where you can see Kominato Beach, where we'd been earlier, on the right. The beach visible at the top is Kopepe Beach, and beyond Kopepe you can see the entrance of Futami Bay, where we'd arrived that morning.

Straight out west the path continued a bit but we didn't have time to go further. We saw off in the distance that the path was already being used by a small gang of goats. Like everyone who colonized tropical islands in centuries past, the original settlers of Ogasawara brought goats with them, since goats are even hardier than people and can thrive in almost any environment, ensuring a supply of meat and milk. These days the goats still thrive but nobody eats them, even though they are said to cause considerable damage to ecology. All us foreigners agreed that a few barbeques and a pot or two of goat curry would be a great solution, but we were told that the goats are actually protected. Which has to be the stupidest thing I've heard in a while, but whatever.

Our minds were soon off of goat meat though, as our handlers brought out bags of passion fruit and cut them up for us. I'd only had fresh passion fruit once before, in Okinawa, and these looked and tasted exactly the same (although they apparently looked a bit different from what the Australians and New Zealanders were used to). They had the loveliest fragrance and a very nice sweet tart flavour, and I loved the contrast of the juicy pulp to the crunchy seeds. This is a fruit I'd love to see more of in Tokyo but it's quite rare to find, unfortunately. So I ate my fill while I had the chance.

I would have been happy to stay and eat passion fruit all afternoon, but the sun was on its way down and we had to get to our next destination. Below is the view south of our lookout, and again I would have been happy to stay to see the sunset (if only we had flashlights for our trip back down the hill).

Our next stop was up north of Futami Bay to Mount Mikazuki Observatory, also known as the Weather Station (located at the end of the road on this map). I suppose at one point the place was used to observe the weather but these days it seems to be just a sunset viewing point for tourists.

The sunset was as stunning as all sunsets are when seen from tropical islands, and I was just about as successful in capturing it as most amateur photographers are. But if you've ever seen a pretty sunset you can use your imagination here. And I'm glad I at least got a picture, as this was the last we were to see of the sun for pretty much the entire trip.

The tour over, we were packed back into the minivans and driven to our various hotels. We were divided up and rotated around a few different hotels and inns in order to allow us to experience a variety of places, and on the first night I lucked out and was put up at Horizon (see the J-shaped building on this map), the island's swankiest hotel. Also staying at the horizon were most of the guys, who before we even got to there were passing around illicit beers (some of the guys had managed to snag a six-pack during the tour to celebrate one of their birthdays).

 

We were given a welcome drink upon arrival at Horizon and then shown to our rooms (we each had our own) and then given a bit of free time before dinner, which the boys used to continue their celebrations. I was tempted to join them until I saw my room's giant bathtub and decided to spend my free time soaking away the stiffness and puffiness caused by so much time being cramped cars and ferries the past two days. It was a wee bit lonely to stay in a room by myself but very luxurious, especially after our tiny quarters on the ferry. With all this space and a soothing bath I finally felt like I was on vacation.

The room was large and very nice, if a bit bland, and although I took pictures it was too dark for them to turn out well (the pictures above were taken the next morning). Horizon bills itself as Ogasawara's only "resort hotel", a category whose meaning I'm not entirely sure of, and although I didn't have time to really look around much, I liked it. I would have been convinced it was the best place on the island if it wasn't for the place we stayed at the following night.

Like most hotels in Japan, a stay at Horizon includes dinner and breakfast. The menu here alternates daily between washoku (Japanese cuisine) and yoshoku (western style cuisine), and today was yoshoku day which for dinner meant a six-course meal with French and Italian influences.

The course began with a local fish (some variety of bream, I think) carpaccio salad topped with crispy lotus root chips, above.

Next was a soup of double consomme with onsen tamago (Japanese style poached egg). This was nice and inventive but the flavour was very strong: afterward I realized we were meant to break the egg first, but out of habit I avoided breaking the egg until the broth was almost gone.

Next was hijiki no peperoncino jikaseimen (handmade spaghetti with olive oil, garlic, hot pepper and hijiki seaweed). I like hijiki and I like pasta so my hopes were high, but alas hijiki just doesn't seem to go with these flavours and this was the weakest dish of the night.

The fish course was shimazakana no acqua pazza (island fish poached Italian style), which turned out to be locally caught kachou (Bodianus perditio, called golden-spot hogfish in English and takibera in mainland Japanese) with clams, olives, capers, garlic and cherry tomatoes. This was very tasty.

The mean course was ribeye steak with demiglace sauce with a little sculpture of vegetables and baked baguette slices pasted together with mashed potatoes. The steak and vegetable contraption were both nice but the sauce was a bit bitter. Dessert was homemade gelato and we washed everything down with a few bottles of wine kindly bought by one of the travel consultants accompanying us. It was a nice meal overall and for the average Japanese tourist would have been quite a treat, but as I already eat quite a bit of psuedo-Italian food I couldn't help wishing for something a little more islandy, or at least Japanese.

I know what you're thinking, but no, this was not part of our dinner course. As soon as we'd finished eating we were loaded back in the vans and driven inland to the Ogasawara Subtropical Agricultural Center, where we had a night tour. If the weather had cooperated we would have been treated to an amazing night sky, certainly better than I'd ever seen in Japan. Sadly it was overcast so we concentrated on things a little closer to the ground.

First we saw a few Ogasawara ookoumori (Bonin flying fox), an endemic fruit bat on the critically endangered list, flying from tree to tree looking for fruit (I didn't get any pictures but here is what it looks like). We saw lots of okayadokari (Coenobita, land hermit crab) which are huge and as adults almost exclusively use the shell of the invasive East African land snail. The critter in the picture above is an Ogasawara mokuzugani (Eriocheir ogasawaraensis), apparently called "Ogasawara mitten crab" in English due to the hair on its claws and legs. Finally we spotted, after a long search in the dark, a single green pepe (Mycena chlorophanos), a luminous mushroom that glows an eerie green at night.

And that was the end of our first day on Chichijima. See more pictures of my first day in Chichijima here, and here are pictures from the whole trip, and click here for the next post in the series.

Snow

Last night, just as I was thinking winter would sneak by undetected this year, Hideaki came home from work with rosy cheeks and a head adorned with snowflakes. I'd had no idea it had been snowing, having napped the evening away (a wonderful new habit of mine) after getting soaked in the rain earlier. But somewhere during my slumbers the raindrops had turned to snowflakes, great big fluffy snowflakes, and although we huddled under a blanket on our balcony and enjoyed the view for a while, we were both too tired to actually go out and enjoy it. All that napping can really tire a girl out, after all (I have no idea what his excuse was).

So I had to hope the snow would stick around, and sure enough when I opened the curtains this morning there was a blanket of rapidly melting but still pretty snow on the ground. So I put on my snow boots and headed out to enjoy our first real snowfall in two years.

Like all snowy days in Tokyo there were very few people about, even at the local park which is normally bustling with activity at this time of day. A few intrepid seniors out for their morning walk, a handful of park security guards and volunteers clearing paths, a grand total of three moms with their kids, and four people walking their dogs.

The toy poodle and chihuahua were not having any fun at all, mincing around on the cold wet path as if they were cats. A couple of real dogs were making the most of the snow, including the one above, whose owner looked like she was having almost as much as her dog. It was also nice to see one man who, like me, was purposely walking on the fresh virgin snow instead of the cleared path, although when he saw me looking he sheepishly returned to the path. Lord knows why.

But the place was otherwise deserted, and I felt like I had the whole park to myself. So I did what I always do when it snows: take pictures of flowers. Above is a frosty ume (Japanese apricot) blossom, and below are a couple of icy clusters of mansaku (witch hazel) flowers.

I wanted to stay out longer, but the rumblings in my tummy told me it was time to head home for breakfast. Now that that's out of the way, I think I'll go have a nap. Yawn.