funAbout fifteen of us had piled into that tiny bus, little knowing that we were stepping into an experience that will link us all forever. On the way out of Tokyo, I talked with some of them more than I had all semester. Now, they’ve become people that I want to keep touch with from here on out. Dane Cook on the radio and our feet up on the windows, we struck out.
We arrived early enough to explore the hotel, but instead we opted to disperse on the deck and play a makeshift game of hackey sack with a crumpled up baggie over light conversation. Our check in wasn’t until three, so we were paraded down to a local soba shop for some home made soba noodles and tofu, which were by the way absolutely delicious. I’ve been eating the local food, but everywhere has its own specialties. You’ll find that there’s always something new to try—but you have to be more adventurous than some of our group members were. Those of us who finished early checked out the nearby bakery for some of the best bread I have ever tasted.
After lunch, we took another bus ride up into the mountains—which remind me a little of home, but were bigger mountains than the ones in my native Pennsylvania—to visit the Hakone Open Air Museum. It was excellent. It’s mainly a statue garden with a lot of modern art, including a tower made of stained glass which you can climb for one of the best views of the weekend and a Picasso gallery. It was a place where we could really let loose and have fun, honestly, and we ran around like kids and played in the foot baths.
From the museum, we altered our plans slightly and ventured higher, to the source of a lot of hot springs in the area. It smelled strongly of sulfur, and the steam was literally rising up out of the ground everywhere. There was a stream running down the mountain face that was still hot as hell. Up here, you could see even more. Mount Fuji was visible in the distance, much closer than I’m used to. It was so imposing and majestic, I don’t have words. My friends, however, do. As the tour guide was pointing out the side of the bus explaining that he’s been on this trip eight times and only seen it once, he informs us that it’s not visible today. But I’m determined, and I scan the sky furiously. My heart starts pounding when I find the perfect white outline in the sky, looking almost like a part of the clouds—but I know it’s not. I know better. I shout, “No way! There it is, right there!” And all as one, everyone on the bus stands in their seat and exclaims, “Holy sh*t!” Man was that priceless. We climb the mountain face to the source to try some of the infamous eggs that are boiled right in the spring until the shells turn black. They’re good luck. If you eat one, you’re supposed to live seven years longer. We all had more than we should have, but they were tasty buggers. We just sat up on the mountain face talking and eating for a while, before heading back to the inn.
The inn we stayed at was not your average hotel. It’s called a ryokan, which is a traditional inn at which the rooms are built like old fashioned Japanese rooms, with tatami (straw mats), low tables, sliding paper doors, and futons. Additionally, the women working there wear kimonos and lay out the room nicely for you—and will serve dinner for you in your room if you like. The lower levels of the inn have onsen on them, separate for men and women. It was a really nice place. The school had reserved a banquet hall for us, and so after checking into our rooms, we hit the hot springs once before getting to the feast.
And when I say feast, I mean literally. This thing was at least seven courses, with both traditional courses and pizza. Additionally, they brought us more alcohol than we knew what to do with. In Japan, legal drinking age is twenty, so all of us got a little rowdy. Since the room was equipped with a karaoke machine and some mics, somewhere in the later courses we got drunk enough to get up and sing. We were down there for hours, dancing and singing and running around like we hadn’t in years. I laughed, I cried. I love those guys. I’d do it all again, despite the bruises I sport for some nasty tumbles. As Jon would say, I “ate tatami” a good few times.
As the night wore on, we split up to go for a beer and snackies run down to the only 7-11 in town (7-11 in Japan is owned by a Japanese company, and it’s HUGE). So myself, both of the Rachels, and Keiichiro “Mike Davis” Nakamura hiked down there. It probably took us a half an hour to get down the mountain, but it was an adventure. People actually come out here to race their cars, so we were passed by a lot of these guys, and some were waiting around at the convenience store. Mike told me later he was pretending not to know Japanese, because those kinds of guys can be dangerous. The hike back up was arduous, but I really feel like I was starting to get to know these people by then. We stopped at a small shrine along the way and made an offering in the darkness, which was quite surreal for me and I will never forget it.
Back at the hotel, I flopped in the grass for a half-nap while we waited for the rest of the group to return to the meet up point. We split again to bathe a little drunk; while I am not recommending getting drunk, I would like to say that a beer before a hot spring bath is extremely relaxing and conducive to full enjoyment of the spring. We met up again in our bathrobes at the end of the night just to talk, though I ended up falling asleep where I was sitting, before sneaking off to bed.
We all woke a little bit icky, but not seriously so. No one got out of hand. I was up and about by 7:30, so I went down for a morning bath before breakfast—which was delicious. Afterward, a few of the girls and I went off on a little secret expedition into the woods. We followed a stone trail along the mountainside, before losing it. On a whim, we decided to climb a set of stairs leading down into the valley and actually ended up happening upon a Zen Buddhist temple built into the side of the mountain. The lady who greeted us spoke some English with us before she discovered our Japanese, explaining that the temple had been founded by women and about its history and sister temples. She ended up inviting us for tea, although we had to politely decline for time constraints. Continuing down the stairs, we ended up in a garden behind the restaurant we had eaten at the day before. Still ready for more adventure, we scaled the river bank and jumped around on the rocks a little before heading back. As if by magic, the bus happens to be coming by our way to pick up our group from the inn, and the driver gives us our own private lift back up the mountain.
All together, we check out and head for Odawara castle, which had been destroyed at the end of the feudal period but has since been rebuilt. It was a beautiful replica, and the plum blossoms were open, so I took about a million pictures. The area was very touristy, however, with a zoo and gimmicky shops. In fact, several of us took full advantage of this, and went by the costume booth to be dressed as samurai. I had more fun being the only girl samurai in Japan that day than with anything else. Man the armor was heavy. I got in a little trouble for play-fighting with the dull sword, but the other tourists got a huge kick out of me and took a ton of pictures. We explored the castle and grounds, before heading back to the bus for lunch.
From Odawara, we drove back up into the mountains for one last stop. The forest looked ancient, and there were shrines and temples everywhere. It had started to rain lightly as we drove, very poetically, through the old trees. I was singing the Mononoke-hime theme softly as we went. We finally made it to a place called Daiyuuzan, which I had never heard of, but was the largest and most beautiful temple complex I have ever seen. Much of the area was Buddhist, with pagodas and temples, but there were Shinto gods here as well. I didn’t realize why we had come here until later, though. We began to climb the stairs gradually, each level taking us to a new set of buildings. But then I found myself at the bottom of a very large staircase with an offering box at the bottom, protected by two deities. This confused me at first, but I ran up the stairs like a dumb person. At the top, I was only greeted by more stairs. And more, and more. And then a stretch of stairs that ran perhaps the length of a football field. My legs ached so badly I wanted to cry. I was struggling along that final stretch, but at long last, I reached the top to find one last, tiny shrine waiting for me. Grateful for the end of toil, I made an offering and rang the bell. It had been three hundred and fifty stairs. My legs still ache, and man was I grateful for the rain.
I climbed down a different way from the others, exploring the complex a little more. I didn’t want to leave, but alas, all good things do end. The ride home was long, but peaceful, as we all fell asleep over each other to the pattering of the rain. I always get sad when these experiences have to end, but in my heart I treasure the time that I was there and the people I was with. It’s moments like the ones we shared in silence as the bus brought us home that make me wish I could be here with everyone forever. To everyone, thank you so, so much.
