Tip Toe Through The Tulips

Here's a tale from Gail Thompson, a very attractive young woman who was an AET (Assistant English Teacher) in the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme with me in Tochigi-ken, Japan. It appeared in the September 1991 issue of The Tatami Times English newsletter of which I was the editor and chief onani-ist. 

Helloand welcome to everyone! So what do you think about Japan so far? Ilove it and hope you will all have a great time here. The reason I mwriting is to tell you all about the Primary/Elementary StudentsEnglish camp that was held recently (I'll assume in August of 1991: Your Way-back Editor) in Awano-machi (town of Awano), near Kanuma-shi (city of Kanuma). Steve Heyd, Micahel Pilarski (another AET: Kindda foggy Editor) and I were privileged to be asked as assistants and apart from a few interesting incidents (how ominous: Ominous Editor), we had a grand time.

Imaginea bus load of food, eight kids all nervous but excited, three verynervous board of education people (they were really nervous) and threeAETs ready to speak English or communicate in any way possible, and youhave the scene of the first morning of the camp.
We all got on the bus and headed for a mountain in the depths of Awano-machi.The ride on the bus was an adventure that I don't think Michale willespecially forget. It started off okay. We did the usual introductionsand reviewed a few songs (to be sung around the campfire that night)and the kids were really good.

However, the roadstarted to turn more and more as we slowly wound our way up themountain - and we teachers started to look a little green around thegills. But the kids were reading, eating sweets and generally lookingextremely genki ('fine': Yer Dictionary Editor).
Whenwe finally reached our destination, the kids all tumbled out of the buseagerly waiting for lunch, while we teachers crawled out with a not sogood attitude towards the prospect of eating anything for the rest ofour collective life.
But lunch was a great success, and we soonstarted our hike through some beautiful Tochigi-ken(Province/Prefecture of Tochigi) countryside. The kids weer having agreat time catching dragonflies, and we spent our time prompting themto speak English.
Steve, Michael and I looked splendid in ourblack garbage bag make-shift rain coats, as we hadn't brought along amillion and one essential things needed for a camp - and despite that,our luggage was twice as big as the kid's. Where do they learn the artof packing and can I enroll in a class??? Of course, it started torain. We abandoned the hike - well, actually the three board ofeducation peole got very nervous that the kids would catch a cold, butwe tough AETs were most willing to go ahead. FIGHT-O! (I think that isthe way the Japanese say 'Fight' - Confused Editor).
Dinnersoon rolled around and the cordon bleu Steve prepared was delicious.Actually it was red beans and rice, and we all enjoyed it. But thekids?! Let's just say they preferred the standard camping dinner oftoasted marshmallows.
Now it was time to sing our songs - Michael did a great impression of a teapot, and was the star of the show.
You would think that the kids might be a little tired by now, but no! But guess who was?
Wefinally settled down and the voices of little munchkins saying (inEnglish) Good Night rang in my ears, and I fell into a deep sleep witha smile on my face.
All too quickly, it was 5AM, and these kids(at least the girls in my cabin - who the nigh before had graciouslylaid out my futon - good girls! - were up and running.
Afterbreakfast, we carved pumpkins and ate watermelon, packed up and weresoon on our way home. I'm sure the kids were happy and that they hadlearned something. It was probably the first time they had ever spenttwo days in close company of people from the USA and Australia, and Iknow that I certainly learnt a lot about kindness and communicationfrom my time with them.
If you have an opportunity, please go ona camp or some sort of international exchange activity. It will be agreat challenge, but an excellent chance to share fantastic experienceswith wonderful people.

Thank-you very much, Gail. Yousee people? Japan isn't just about drinking and getting laid - despiteme implying so very often in this blog. It's about sharing your timeand enriching the live's of others... heck... that's what we should bedoing anyways, regardless of what country you are in.

Somewhere wondering what the toilet situation was like,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is sung by the late great Tiny Tim: FALSETTO

I'm Your Captain

In April of 1991, I took over as the Editor-in-Chief (don't call me chief!) of the Tatami Times, the monthly newsletter for AETs (Assistant English Teachers) on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme in Tochigi-ken (Province/Prefecture of Tochigi). Mary Mueller was the Prefectural Representative for us, and Catherine Komlodi (Gasoline) was the editor. They were leaving after this summer, and I was re-upping for a second year.

Blond and beautiful, I had huge crushes on both. I may have had huge crushes on all of the women I ever saw, but that is open to discussion. Discuss amongst yourselves.

Although I haven't mentioned Mary very much, she was a strong, smart and gorgeous broad. In my first ever issue, ye old blogger did an interview for her in my sub-section Tatemai Times.

Here, for your edification is that interview:

Mary Mueller Mulls Macaroni

Recently, ye editor caught up with former Tochigi-ken PR, Mary Mueller. We (The Tatemai Times) wanted to ask her to describer her time in office.

TT: Hi Mary. How are you enjoying life at PR?

MM: Oh, it's just great!!! I now get to relax and sleep a lot more at school!!!

TT: Are you suffering any withdrawal symptoms from losing all of that power?

MM: Well, my office knows I'm not in charge now!!! So I can't spend all of my time on the phone!!! Darn it!!!! No longer can I call up people long-distance and tell my office it's PR business!!! Now I have to use my own phone!!! Do you have any idea how expensive my phone bill will be?!!!

TT: Uh, yeah... so can you tell us an interesting story about your time as exalted leader?

MM: Of course!!! I like talking about myself almost as much as that An-do-ryu guy!!!

TT: Only louder.

MM: What??!! I can't hear you!!!
TT: Nothing. You were going to tell us a story?

MM: Huh?!!! Oh yeah!!! (squeal!!!)

*Interlude* The next six hours are a blur as ye editor slipped in and out of consciousness...

MM: ... and then he fell to his death!!! Bwa-ha-ha-ha!!! And then there was the time...

*Interlude* Two hours later...

MM: Now this is my favourite part!!! Oh come on you guys... wake up!!! I can't believe this!!! Now shut up and listen!!! I'm going to tell the readers all about your snoring on the Nasu hiking trip!!!

TT: Thank-you very much Mary for your time...

MM: Quit talking while I'm interrupting!!!

TT: I hope the rest of your life is as adventurous.

MM: You haven't even let me speak!!! How can this interview be over?!!! Huh?!!! Answer me that Mister Smartypants!!!

TT: Sorry. It just is.

MM: (Expletives deleted!!!)

TT: Th-th-th-that's all folks.

Somewhere there was something about Mary,
Andrew Joseph

Today's blog title is brought to you by ye Grand Funk Railroad: POWERTRIO
PS: Mary was always giving me the gears - but she was so cool to always call me at just the right moment with a birthday wish or a call to check in me or just to get the latest gossip while secretly ensuring I wasn't becoming suicidal.
PPS: Tomorrow's entry is a biography on one Catherine Komlodi - the former Tatami Times editor, but secretly my dream girl.
PPPS: Tatemai means 'white lies'. The photo above is the cover to that first issue of the Tatami Times. Tatami means grass floor mats. I didn't come up with the magazine name, but it's cool. I altered the artwork - one of the brilliant Thirty-six Views of Mt. Fuji by famed ukiyo-e artist Hokusai Katsushika (surname first). If you don't get my joke, it's a running Bugs Bunny cartoon gag. ALBUQUERQUE

Tomorrow Never Knows

I suppose the Japanese Tourist Bill will eventually forgive me, but until then I'll stand by my guns. You see... I don't believe Mount Fuji actually exists. I think it's a big tourist scam on the likes of Capricorn One (involving the mission to our moon, Luna) and possibly the Roswell Crash (involving a government cover-up of a crashed spaceship).

Oh sure, I can hear you all screaming about how good ole Andrew has finally had that mental breakdown we've been expecting for the last... well, just for about ever. But hold on... I have proof. Sort of.

I have lived here in Japan for a couple of years now, and in all that time I have never seen Mount Fuji. Yes, I should probably get off my green couch more often, turn off the crappy food-related television shows and go take a trip to Kamakura-shi in Kanagawa where the 'mountain' is said to reside. 

Mount Fuji - or Fuji-san is supposed to be the symbol of Japan. You mean Japan is imaginary? 

I have friends like Matthew and Takako who claim they have gone to 'see' Mount Fuji, and have even 'climbed' it, but I think they and everybody else have all been hoodwinked by a greedy Japanese tourism industry. Wait. Don't click away to look for porn. Let me tell you my story first, and then I'll present my pudding... because the proof is always hidden there.

Over these past two years, I have taken the Shinkansen (Japanese bullet train) about seven or nine times (but not eight) past the supposed location of Mount Fuji. In each instance it rained or was cloudy enough to obscure the 'mountain'. As well, I've been on mountains where you are supposed to be able to see Mount Fuji off in the distance... obscured by clouds, snow, rain, fog... Coincidence? I don't think so.

Having finally tired of merely passing by the location of the so-called 'Soul of Japan', I decided that a trip to the scenic Kamakura-shi and the towns around its supposed location was called for. So I went.

Could anyone dare call it a coincidence that for the three days I was in the 'area', that a veil of cloud blanketed everything? By this time, I was starting to get the impression that it was just me and my affection of traveling during the rainy/cloudy season. Pundits will note that said season lasts from May to April.

Anyhow, just last night (or 17 years ago and last night depending on when I actually write this stuff down), I was sitting in my favourite Ohtawara bar, the 4C, with my friends Matthew and Colin, sucking back tequila-sake (sake is Japanese rice wine) shooters, when it all started to come together. It wasn't just me! It was them! The tourism industry!

There is no Mount Fuji! It's a mass hypnosis created by the Japanese tourist industry to make some yen. 

Yes, I have said that three times now without offering a shred of evidence. Well, I don't have any physical evidence, as I don't believe Mount Fuji physically exists, but I do have a theory, a hangover, and a theory about my hangover.

Throughout the years, the Japanese have said that when one climbs Mount Fuji, they are given wisdom. To climb it a second time is a fool's folly. A third time up the hill, and you are probably ready for that lobotomy. This is true, except for that part about the lobotomy. I'll explain why in a second.

People who attempt to climb Fuji-san (which sounds a bit dirty to me) in an attempt to gain wisdom arrive at the base of a real mountain. So there is a mountain.

They begin climbing it, and after awhile, they are forced to step into one of the conveniently placed 'shelters'. As soon as they step inside, they are bombarded with a gas assailing their synaptic nerves. The Japanese Tourist Board now controls their mind.

The brain-washed wisdom seekers are then led to another room - a virtual-reality room, where they believe they are completing the rest of their journey. It's made to seem like climbing the mountain is exhausting 

After an appreciable amount of time, the victims are then led to a large room that is created to look like the top of what the Tourist Board wants Mount Fuji to look like. There, the 'climbers' take umpteen photographs and are thus sated.

Next, they are led to the "down" part of the virtual-reality room where they are allowed to 'climb back down' the imaginary mountain. The Tourism Board then implants a message of how bone-crushingly weary they are and tells them they shouldn't try to climb it again. Once they reach the so-called 'shelter' again, they are revived from their stupor and walk out to finish their trek down the real mountain. 

The tired and disoriented climbers go home and never want to climb it again. 

Sometimes that implanted message erodes after time, and people attempt another climb - a fool's folly. But, the synaptic-snapping gas will work its magic again, though this second dose can caused further disorientation and an even greater loss of brain cells. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention... the synaptic nerve gas causes brain cell loss. 

A third 'climb' up the molehill... well, my friend Jim falls into that category... as he doesn't quite seem himself anymore.

I do believe that Mount Fuji once existed as people think it is nowadays. But I believe it was bombed during WWII, or there was an earthquake or Godzilla stomped on it in during one of his yearly forays into Tokyo--but it was reduced to a mere anthill in size. Fearing that the Japanese people would thus lose faith in the war, their country, their Emperor, and Godzilla, I believe this elaborate hoax was thusly concocted. 

And, as for all of you people who believe you have seen Mount Fuji from a distance... well, have you ever hard of a laser hologram? 

Think about it... I would, but my brain is screaming out for some Aspirin,

Somewhere in Al Capone's vault with Geraldo Rivera,

Andrew Joseph

Today's title is brought to you by the letter See, and is performed by The Beatles. You can listen and think you are seeing a video for it HERE.

PS: Not sure what I mean about Al Capone's vault? HERE. 

PPS: Godzilla: Check out the cover-up HERE, HERE and HERE.

Eight Miles High

I guess if I was to describe myself in one word, it would be 'complex'. But since I don't have to, the point is moot.
I have a new girlfriend. She's kind, funny and demure. She's also Japanese - meaning I've truly become comfortable here in Japan, as I was always slightly reluctant to become involved in a relationship where language was always going to be an issue. Fortunately for me, my love at first sight moment occurred at a junior high school I taught at when I met this Japanese teacher of English - Nobuko. You can read about our first meeting HERE.
Nobuko is perfectly happy staying at home watching television, though I'm still trying to get included in that activity. Her idea of fun, however, is something called hiking, or what she calls it: bush-walking.
Not a bad activity, you say? Well, I beg to differ. On our first excursion, she took me on the trail to Hell. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
On a crisp Saturday morning, we set forth in tint little pedal car to the area called Nasu Yama (Mount Nasu) (see top photo showing the Nasu mountain range after a major rain storm), in northern Tochigi-ken (Province of Tochigi). We drove until we came to an area at the base of the mountain called the "Life-Death Stone".
(See photo to right and below) The Life-Death Stone is actually a large area where nothing is able to grow because of either a high concentration of sulfur or a battle between some gods. Perhaps the gods used sulfur bombs, I don't know.
Why sulfur? Well, Nasu Yama is actually an active volcano - okay, maybe not burping fire and brimstone into the air, but it is constantly venting steam from various orifices.

We got out of our car and marched over to a trail hidden by some thick bushes. Why they don't put them out in the open where people can see them, I'll never know.
We glanced at a map at the start of the trail showing it to be 5.6 kilometres. Well... that's not so bad. I used to be athletic 10 or 11 years ago. And besides, it wasn't like I had stopped playing sports. I was sure I could beat anybody on darn near any video game.
Before starting off on the walk, I asked her if we had enough food and drinks. She shyly said she had packed us a lunch - Awwwww - and had a couple of soft drink cans, too. I had brought along an extra pair of track pants in case she fell down and got muddy, and a couple of sweat shirts in case it got cold up this snow-capped mountain that is venting hot steam.
We began hiking. Trees and plants and dirt everywhere. It was cool enough that there were no insects buzzing about. For that matter, there were no birds chirping, either. Hmmmm. No wildlife on a volcano.
Well, we did meet 40 people from an old folk's home who were staggering by in the opposite direction. The giggled when we told them we were going up the 5.6 kilometer trail - and we had no idea why. I always find it ominous when I see a mass exodus of people walking in the opposite direction I am going and laughing about it. Always.
After a couple of hours of hiking up a fairly steep incline, we stopped for lunch beside a small stream. I dipped my hands into the cool water to wash away the dirt that had accumulated after wiping out 14 times. My girlfriend, the mountain goat, was unscathed. A sign near the water said there was only 3.6 kilometres to go. We were traveling at one kilometre per hour. Yeesh. And when was this trail going to start heading back down.
We ate and drank everything. Not a good thing to do - after all, I hadn't seen any food vending machines in the past half-hour. Nor any people.
We marched on. Higher, higher, ever higher until we reached quite suddenly broke free of the trees. We looked around and noticed we were about three-quarters of the way up the mountain to the left of Mount Nasu. A sign said we only had two kilometres to go. To where? Dante didn't have this much climbing when he descended through the circles of Hell.

After five hours of climbing (it was now 3PM), we saw signs stating we were only 0.1 kilometres away from our goal. Thirty minutes later, we reached the top. I looked behind us and noticed a very dense fog moving in quickly. We were thirsty, and I was cold and hungry and really wanted a Coke or a beer. I was not a happy camper. Nobuko? She was in her element as a mountain goddess.
We found a trail which led over to the Nasu Yama peak - which was news to me, as I had thought we were on the Nasu Yama peak. Nobuko was moving with grace and agility towards it, while I was crawling and holding onto the rocks along the side - holding on for dear life as my fear of heights quickly amplified into severe vertigo. She actually came back to help me along by kicking my butt and calling me a chicken (in English!) With her helpful abuse, we made it over to Mount Nasu and its ropeway. A ropeway is apparently a cable car. Who knew? I'm glad it wasn't what I thought it was. (See photo at left showing the view from the top of Nasu Yama, with the rope car line and exit station below).

Because we had just missed a ride down, we had time to grab a quick lunch at a kiosk.
The trip back down was actually uneventful, except for my screams of mortal terror which delighted the large group of geriatrics in the cable car with us.
Anyhow, my girlfriend understood that I was too stupid to admit my cowardice beforehand, and that the Japanese don't know the difference between bush-walking and mountain climbing.
Since I wasn't needed to help her up the mountain...

Somewhere saving my videogame princess,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is by The Byrds: LISTEN
PS: That fog that was rolling in, really did make the last leg of our journey quite perilous. We could see maybe three feet in front of us - and that was it. There were also venting steam holes maybe 10 feet away where the volcano was belching at us. Was it hot? Believe it or not, I wasn't stupid enough to stick my hand in and find out. Sorry.
PPS: What a day. It was pretty much a 12-hour journey from start to finish back at my apartment. Part of my problem was that I still had a sewer soaker from stepping into the open space where a sidewalk tile should have been (see HERE). Okay, and the fact that being in shape doesn't mean you can climb a volcano or do bush-walking. 
PPS: The Nasu volcano group consists of a N-S cluster of five stratovolcanoes and lava domes at the N end of the Kanto plain. According to Wikipedia, it consists of:

• Sanbonyari Peak 1916.9m
• Chausu Peak 1915m
• Asahi Peak 1896m
• Nangetsu-san Peak 1776m
• Kuro-odani Peak 1589m

I have NO idea where I actually was now. Yeesh.

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

Every once in awhile, I learn something new about myself. On Saturday, October 20, 1990, I was up at 8AM to go on a trek with Ashley and some other AETs (Assistant English Teachers) from around Tochigi-ken to climb Mt. Nasu.
Ashley has spent the night, and is all packed and ready for the mountain. We make some sandwiches, I grab a shirt, sweater, jeans, runners, gloves and my wind-breaker jacket—that’s it. Ashley decides to wear three or four layers of clothing and takes a towel. I don’t know why, the onsen (Japanese spa at the hotel we’ll be staying at on Mt. Nasu) will provide one.
We bicycle over to Nishinasuno station—which is a 10 minute ride from Ashley’s place, but a 30-minute ride from mine, so in hindsight, I have to give her props.  We take a local train up a stop to Kurosio eki (station) arriving at 11:45AM and along with the other AETs, we leave there at Noon. At 1PM at Mt. Nasu, we take a ropeway partially up before disembarking for a climb. Not sure why, but my right leg hurts—probably residual from the bicycle accidents—this is 1990, I’m not out of shape yet.
Half-way up chatting with my girl-crush Gasoline (Catherine Komlodi), I discover that the onsen doesn’t provide towels. Figures. The weather is cool but comfortable, with hardly any trace of a wind. The leaves along the trail are just beginning to turn red, orange and yellow—it looks beautiful. I wish I had my camera, but perhaps I can convince Ashley to make copies of the shots she’s taking (I did).
After a couple of hours, we arrive at the top of Mt. Nasu. Check out the photo above. It’s freezing cold with a wind wafting down at us at about a 1000-miles-per-hour. My legs (yes, both of them, as apparently I’m not in as good shape as I thought I was) hurt like heck. While we stop for a photo break, I wander off by myself to sit on a rock and glare out at the valley below. Around me, steam vents from the mountain at various spots---yes, Mt. Nasu is an active volcano. There’s a slight smell of sulphur in the air, but the terrific winds push it away quickly.
So. This is nature. Wow. I almost feel like I’m a part of it... but only for a few seconds as the voices of the other AETs slowly drown out that feeling of oneness. It was a good feeling. A sense of majesty and power. Top of the world, ma!
We all then hike down the other side of the mountain. The grade is somewhat flatter—like the Canadian woods. Or so I assume, if I had ever actually been in the woods back home. There are scores of birch and maple.
One of the folks traveling traveling alongside me is one Douglas Izzaks. He’s 4-years-old, and is the son of Marina, who has joined her husband and Robert the AET here in Japan. Very cool people, and I envy their happy little family.
Click HERE for pix of the climb.
We arrive at the onsen at around 5PM—18 of us will squeeze onto a room containing 12 tatami (grass mats), that are about 3-feet wide and 6-feet long. I already have a bad feeling about this.
We grab dinner – it sucks. The women finish up first and head over to the onsen. Us five guys—Peter, Robert, Gavin, Tim Mould and myself) sit around and suck on our beers.  Notice there’s no Matthew. I did. Best friend I have in Japan, and he couldn’t make the trip up a mountain that was essentially in our backyard. Probably out chasing women. In hindsight (again), it obviously worked out well for Matthew. After an hour, the guys head over to the onsen. Since I had to go to the washroom, I get ditched.
After the pee that wouldn’t end, I struggle through my shyness and bad Japanese to ask where the spa is. No one knows. Stumbling about for 15 minutes, and ready to go and find the bar, I accidentally stumble across it. Just the guys are there. No women. Great. Five naked gaijin in a hot water mini pool. After a half hour, two of the women bravely join us (Mary Ann Hironaka and Mary Mueller). It’s dark, and my night blindness renders the good stuff invisible. They leave after a couple of minutes and come back with six more female AETs. Hey! I’ve heard of this type of party. Unfortunately, it doesn’t become one. Gasoline is there, too. Damn! This! Night! Blindness! So is Ashley – and we all have a good time.
Let me just say that if you have never seen five naked guys in a hot tub doing synchronized swimming, you ain’t never been around me.
After two-and-a-half hours, the onsen turns the lights out on us in an attempt to stop our drunken revelry and various renditions of Christmas carols. After that length of time in the water, even my wrinkles were wrinkled.
We crawl back to our rooms – I’m last because I have to towel off with a shirt. Looking around for a space, I discover a solitary piece of tatami that is 5-feet long by 14-inches wide. I measured it.
Anyhow, I quickly fall asleep, and get hit in the ribs by Mary for snoring. I’d kill her if I could move my legs. In all, I get hit about 21 times. After that initial hit, I don’t fall asleep. I keep telling them I’m awake. I’m not snoring. I can hear Tim and Peter snoring, but no one is hitting them in their still tender from a pair of bicycle accident ribs.
At 5:30AM, Tim and I have a whisper argument about how neither of could sleep thanks to the his/mine snoring. That’s when we hear it. The gentle roar of a buzzsaw at a lumber mill. It’s Susan St. Cyr whom I then dubbed Susan St. Snore.
Of course, despite Tim (and Ashley) believing me, Mary doesn’t. I’m wide awake but very tired. Anyhow, here’s what I have learned about sleeping around a lot of people. I do snore. Like a jet plane with asthma. In later years, I developed horrible, horrible sleep apnea that made me stop breathing every 44 seconds before I’d breath/snore and catch my breath. I spent eight years only getting about 64% oxygen to my brain when I slept ensuring I was killing brain cells. This blog is a direct result of that.

Somewhere, 20 years later, I learned that Mary was right.
Andrew Zzzzz Joseph
Today's title was first sung by  Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell - and you can listen to it HERE.PS: Susan will remain Susan St. Snore, however.

PPS: Sleep apnea can kill you. If you snore, stop breathing or are always tired - even after just waking up, or wake up choking in the night, you may have sleep apnea. Get checked out at a sleep clinic. Get a C-PAP machine and get back to living a 'normal' life. Don't be like me and wuss out for 8 years before getting the machine! I finally relented and life is so much easier to live now.