I've got some work to do if I want a statue- that guy's a tough act to follow.
Let's back up a bit, though.
I started my trip to Hokkaido at Osaka Itami Airport- I wrote a short cry for help from the coin-operated computer just before I left. There is one other item of particular note there at the airport:
It's a furniture store. It's a furniture store prior to the security checkpoint, no less. Should I decide that there's a lamp or, god forbid, a couch I simply can't live without, how exactly do I get it onto the plane and off to wherever I'm going? How do I smuggle a shoe rack past airport security?
That aside, I promised a picture of the PokePlane that I rode in on the way to Sapporo.
There it is, taxiing into the gate. Can't really see it too well- blame airport security. I also couldn't get any pictures of the interior- I have a cameraPHONE, and a live cellphone is verboten on the plane. I'd like to say that the inside was a brightly-colored pokewonderland, but that is sadly untrue. It was instead a normal plane, with pictures of Pikachu on the headrests.
The flight attendants, when serving drinks, donned pokemon-themed aprons as well. Nobody thought twice about it. They even went around handing out Pokemon postcards everyone on the plane- and EVERYONE liked them. From the oldest grandparent passengers to the youngest children, absolutely every passenger exclamed "AWW CUTE!!" and took three or four.
A word on Japanese flight attendants: They are at once flight staff and the most exquisite marketing scheme I have ever seen. Their uniforms are designer-label clothes (yeah, even the neckscarf), and all of the Attendant Wear is for sale in the in-flight catalogue. Even their watches- which are all standard-issue. I got to talking to one (she used to be an English teacher- cool person, name's Runo, lives in Osaka, studied in Vermont for a year), and they're evidently not HAPPILY serving as mannequins for a manufactured jetset lifestyle, but it's part of the job- and "breaking character" to chat and kvetch with the gaijin would get her in a bundle of trouble, if the supervisor spoke enough English to understand us.
Anyway, after a very Pokemon flight to Sapporo (Air Nippon Airways-mon, I choose you!), I got off the plane at about 12:30, and caught a bus out to the Sapporo International Ski Area.
While on the bus, I was an idiot tourist and took a few pictures.
This picture is still within Sapporo city limits- we're not out into the mountains yet.
The snow in this country is amazing. There are buckets and buckets and buckets of it, and it's all light, fluffy powder. Snowboarding on this stuff is more like surfing than anything else- there's absolutely no resistance, no scraping or shudders. Sapporo Kokusai is the smallest of the four mountains I visited this vacation- and it is still large enough to be, at a glance, forbidding. There are gondolas and avalanche warnings. I loved it.
After the first day of snowboarding, the bus returned to the hotel (at night, on narrow mountain roads, in the middle of a blizzard- awesome), where I checked in and dropped my stuff off. My hotel room was literally an eight-foot cube- eight feet in every direction with an attached five-foot cube bathroom. TINY. I took pictures, but they didn't really turn out. Sorry.
What did turn out, however, is the view from my hotel window.
Whats that white thing in the middle of the picture? Could it be?
YES! It's another Statue of Liberty! I think Japan's got to have the highest capita Statue of Liberty count in the world. This one lifts her lamp beside the golden door of yet another love hotel. My hotel, the Tokyu Inn, was a pretty ritzy arrangement of eight-foot-cube rooms, but it happened to be located in Susukino, the huge entertainment district of Sapporo. Susukino is famous for its high number of bars, love hotels and "massage parlors" all packed into a one-kilometer square.
I managed to find, in this snowy sprawl of neon and drunken salarymen, a Singaporean restaurant. The staff here were all Japanese, but (from numerous trips to Singapore) spoke Singlish almost exclusively in the shop. Well, Singlish mixed with Japanese- it was, however you describe it, the coolest creole language I've ever heard/learnt to speak. I went back every night after snowboarding, had some really good Mee Goreng, and just soaked up the language.
Confession: I'm a linguistic sponge. I love talking (big surprise), and I love listening to the different ways people have to express themselves. It's a constant fascination. This shop's brand of Sinjapanglish is, in my opinion, the eventual destination in the evolution of English in Japan- they're just ahead of the curve. It's a free mixing of English structures, Japanese and Chinese vocabulary, and Chinese interjectory particles. It's a fun way to talk. I really, REALLY want to go to Singapore- just to have a chance to speak like that all the time.
But I digress.
The next day, I woke up and destroyed the hotel's breakfast buffet. There were two lines of food- one Western, one Eastern. I like to think of myself as an international kind of guy- so there was no choice in the matter but to eat both courses. A few times.
After going all Godzilla on the food (and discovering that eggs, sausage, rice and miso soup go pretty well together), I hopped on the first bus out to Rusutsu. Rusutsu's about two hours from Sapporo, and it's one of the three REALLY BIG ski resorts in Hokkaido. The snow (and the mountain) are awesome- I'll let the pictures speak for themselves, as nobody really wants to read a dissertation on the state of snowboarding in Northern Japan.
That last one- the one that's not a picture taken from the top of a snowy mountain? That's the resort's animatronic band, Daniell and the Dixie Diggers. They sang and bantered- all in English, no Japanese translations- and belted out such hits as "Sweet Georgia Brown" and "Dixie". Why a Southern ragtime band in Hokkaido, Japan?
I have no idea. We report, you decide. The locals love 'em, though. The benches in front of this bandstand were never empty, and when the animatronic animals kicked it into high gear I could hear people humming along. "To live and die in Dixie..."
Next to the bandstand (and you'll have to forgive the crappy picture, but this simply must be seen to be appreciated) was a vending machine that sold hot dinners.
Press one of the buttons, and a plate of spaghetti (or pizza, or whatever) drops into the little door at the bottom hot and ready to eat. We need more of these- everywhere.
That evening, back to the Singaporean restaurant. They're good people, it's inexpensive, and they asked me to come back- seems they're all pretty keen on having someone around that understands (and laughs) when they make rude comments about the customers in Singlish. If any of you out there go to Sapporo, I highly reccomend this place- it's called "Kopitiam". Tell 'em Andy sent you.
The next day (after another huuuge breakfast), I went to the A Number-One Best Ski Area in Japan- Niseko. It's three peaks, five ski zones, and waaay more places than I could explore over the course of one day. It was the first time that the trail map wasn't just a nice thing to have, but a necessary survival tool- "Now, if I take this run over to this lift, I'll have to take these runs to get back in time for the bus back to the hotel..." The powder was so deep that at one point I sank in to my armpits and had to literally climb back out sans snowboard. This wasn't in the backcountry- this was WELL WITHIN the marked trails... it's just that big, that even within the groomed area there are pristine, untouched fields of snow. Posted in all the gondolas were forbidding warnings that areas marked off by red ropes (two large sections inbetween the three peaks) were currently undergoing "snow stability testing" with explosives, and that anybody going in there was either going to end up dead or arrested. Yikes. On the upside, the trails that were open still had runs up to five and a half kilometers long. Five and a half kilometers takes a REALLY LONG TIME to snowboard down, for those of you wondering. And if that isn't enough, there are "Backcountry Entrance Zones" where you can ski off-piste without incurring the wrath of the ski patrol, for those of you who come prepared with avalanche beacons, shovels, and snowshoes... mind you, without the wrath, you also sacrifice the protection of the ski patrol. Forget that. There are WAY better ways to die than that. Warm ways. Ways in Bermuda.
So I avoided the ropes and stayed in the marked areas, but still got some pretty nice pictures. The first half of the day was a blizzard- great for riding in, as the snow's always fresh, but horrible for pictures, as the visibility's about ten feet- so I've only got these few to show off.
I think the last one's my favorite.
That night, back to the Singaporean restaurant (again! What can I say, they're nice guys- and I got back from Niseko at 11:00... way too late to explore the city), and after an evening of chatting with the staff and customers the owner calls me over. He messes around behind the bar for a second and emerges with a Kopitiam staff T-Shirt- which he insists I take back to Shiga, and wear, so as to entice all my friends to come to Hokkaido. Like I said, they're great guys.
The last morning of the trip, I descend upon the buffet like a pack of ravenous crows for the third and final time. Then, it's back on the bus (I spent a lot of time on that bus!) to go to Sapporo Teine Ski Resort. It's not huge like Rusutsu or Niseko, but it's a lot of fun- it's a very family-oriented resort. They've got a mascot, who wanders around mugging for photos.
They've also got a theme park that is only accessible by ski lift. There are signs on the backs of the lift chairs like "Enjoy Go-Carts!" and "Happy Together Family Time!"
Unfortunately, they weren't running the coaster in THE BLIZZARD, nor was the Ferris wheel going. I'm a sucker for Ferris wheels.
After a day of wholly enjoyable snowboarding, my sore carcass clambered on the bus, transferred to a train, and got to the airport two hours before my flight left. So I decided to grab dinner at the airport cafeteria. You order your food in the line, and you get a box about the size of a paperback book with a flashing light at one end- and then you're told to go sit down. Every table has one of these.
So you place your "waiting-box within this sheet limit"- and the microchip under the sheet tells the waiting-box which table you're at. The waiting-box transmits that signal to the register, and the waiter brings you your food- always the right food, always the right place. I'm amazed- it's a great idea. Now all they need is to figure out the English language- I mean, come on. "The visitor of reciept"?!
My plane back to Osaka was ANOTHER POKEJET- this one even cooler than the first.
They were so proud of it that they had a model on display in the airport lobby.
Color me impressed. It, too, had the Pikachu headrests and the stewardesses in Pokemon aprons. There's something really charming about the unabashed way that they embrace "cute" in this country. On a completely different track, our "inflight movie" was a live broadcast of the sumo championships. Nothing funnier than watching the big guy next to me- who the whole time watched the sumo absolutely intently- erupt into an exclamation of "CUTE!!!!" when the flight attendant came by with the tray of Pokemon postcards.
Plane ride, bus ride, train ride later, and here I am in Shiga again. Upon reflection, the best part of Hokkaido was the fact that they have central heating up there- central heating, and insulation. The cold isn't so bad when you can look forward to a nice warm house. Here in Shiga, it's cold ALL THE TIME.
No time for worries about that, however. I have a plan for the next adventure... I must find the Koka Ninja Village.
Somewhere in the town of Koka, there is an old ninja training ground. It is, supposedly, absolutely awesome. Koka is on my local train line. It's practically in my backyard. The fact that there is a ninja village here, and that the ninja village's whereabouts have escaped me for this long...
I would be shaming my family and ancestors if I didn't find these ninja. (note: the plural of ninja? Ninja. Why? I don't know. It's like moose. Maybe that way you never know how many ninja there are- one ninja? Eighteen ninja?) But before that, it's back to work- opening ceremonies is tomorrow, and as I understand it I do still have a job. Can't all be snowboarding and ninja.
Wish it could, though...
pax
EDIT: I don't think the original post quite emphasized how cool it was up there in the mountains- there were times, when it was just me, the snow, and the suicidal dropoffs, and it felt like I was the only human being in the world. It was like a cold, silent and solitary heaven- to delve into pop culture, I was a trespasser in the Superman's Fortress of Solitude- and as my fellow suburbanites can attest, when you grow up surrounded by the constant roar of the freeways, silence and open space like that are nigh unto holy.
The flight attendants, when serving drinks, donned pokemon-themed aprons as well. Nobody thought twice about it. They even went around handing out Pokemon postcards everyone on the plane- and EVERYONE liked them. From the oldest grandparent passengers to the youngest children, absolutely every passenger exclamed "AWW CUTE!!" and took three or four.A word on Japanese flight attendants: They are at once flight staff and the most exquisite marketing scheme I have ever seen. Their uniforms are designer-label clothes (yeah, even the neckscarf), and all of the Attendant Wear is for sale in the in-flight catalogue. Even their watches- which are all standard-issue. I got to talking to one (she used to be an English teacher- cool person, name's Runo, lives in Osaka, studied in Vermont for a year), and they're evidently not HAPPILY serving as mannequins for a manufactured jetset lifestyle, but it's part of the job- and "breaking character" to chat and kvetch with the gaijin would get her in a bundle of trouble, if the supervisor spoke enough English to understand us.
Anyway, after a very Pokemon flight to Sapporo (Air Nippon Airways-mon, I choose you!), I got off the plane at about 12:30, and caught a bus out to the Sapporo International Ski Area.
While on the bus, I was an idiot tourist and took a few pictures.
This picture is still within Sapporo city limits- we're not out into the mountains yet.The snow in this country is amazing. There are buckets and buckets and buckets of it, and it's all light, fluffy powder. Snowboarding on this stuff is more like surfing than anything else- there's absolutely no resistance, no scraping or shudders. Sapporo Kokusai is the smallest of the four mountains I visited this vacation- and it is still large enough to be, at a glance, forbidding. There are gondolas and avalanche warnings. I loved it.
After the first day of snowboarding, the bus returned to the hotel (at night, on narrow mountain roads, in the middle of a blizzard- awesome), where I checked in and dropped my stuff off. My hotel room was literally an eight-foot cube- eight feet in every direction with an attached five-foot cube bathroom. TINY. I took pictures, but they didn't really turn out. Sorry.
What did turn out, however, is the view from my hotel window.
Whats that white thing in the middle of the picture? Could it be?YES! It's another Statue of Liberty! I think Japan's got to have the highest capita Statue of Liberty count in the world. This one lifts her lamp beside the golden door of yet another love hotel. My hotel, the Tokyu Inn, was a pretty ritzy arrangement of eight-foot-cube rooms, but it happened to be located in Susukino, the huge entertainment district of Sapporo. Susukino is famous for its high number of bars, love hotels and "massage parlors" all packed into a one-kilometer square.
I managed to find, in this snowy sprawl of neon and drunken salarymen, a Singaporean restaurant. The staff here were all Japanese, but (from numerous trips to Singapore) spoke Singlish almost exclusively in the shop. Well, Singlish mixed with Japanese- it was, however you describe it, the coolest creole language I've ever heard/learnt to speak. I went back every night after snowboarding, had some really good Mee Goreng, and just soaked up the language.
Confession: I'm a linguistic sponge. I love talking (big surprise), and I love listening to the different ways people have to express themselves. It's a constant fascination. This shop's brand of Sinjapanglish is, in my opinion, the eventual destination in the evolution of English in Japan- they're just ahead of the curve. It's a free mixing of English structures, Japanese and Chinese vocabulary, and Chinese interjectory particles. It's a fun way to talk. I really, REALLY want to go to Singapore- just to have a chance to speak like that all the time.
But I digress.
The next day, I woke up and destroyed the hotel's breakfast buffet. There were two lines of food- one Western, one Eastern. I like to think of myself as an international kind of guy- so there was no choice in the matter but to eat both courses. A few times.
After going all Godzilla on the food (and discovering that eggs, sausage, rice and miso soup go pretty well together), I hopped on the first bus out to Rusutsu. Rusutsu's about two hours from Sapporo, and it's one of the three REALLY BIG ski resorts in Hokkaido. The snow (and the mountain) are awesome- I'll let the pictures speak for themselves, as nobody really wants to read a dissertation on the state of snowboarding in Northern Japan.
That last one- the one that's not a picture taken from the top of a snowy mountain? That's the resort's animatronic band, Daniell and the Dixie Diggers. They sang and bantered- all in English, no Japanese translations- and belted out such hits as "Sweet Georgia Brown" and "Dixie". Why a Southern ragtime band in Hokkaido, Japan?I have no idea. We report, you decide. The locals love 'em, though. The benches in front of this bandstand were never empty, and when the animatronic animals kicked it into high gear I could hear people humming along. "To live and die in Dixie..."
Next to the bandstand (and you'll have to forgive the crappy picture, but this simply must be seen to be appreciated) was a vending machine that sold hot dinners.
Press one of the buttons, and a plate of spaghetti (or pizza, or whatever) drops into the little door at the bottom hot and ready to eat. We need more of these- everywhere.That evening, back to the Singaporean restaurant. They're good people, it's inexpensive, and they asked me to come back- seems they're all pretty keen on having someone around that understands (and laughs) when they make rude comments about the customers in Singlish. If any of you out there go to Sapporo, I highly reccomend this place- it's called "Kopitiam". Tell 'em Andy sent you.
The next day (after another huuuge breakfast), I went to the A Number-One Best Ski Area in Japan- Niseko. It's three peaks, five ski zones, and waaay more places than I could explore over the course of one day. It was the first time that the trail map wasn't just a nice thing to have, but a necessary survival tool- "Now, if I take this run over to this lift, I'll have to take these runs to get back in time for the bus back to the hotel..." The powder was so deep that at one point I sank in to my armpits and had to literally climb back out sans snowboard. This wasn't in the backcountry- this was WELL WITHIN the marked trails... it's just that big, that even within the groomed area there are pristine, untouched fields of snow. Posted in all the gondolas were forbidding warnings that areas marked off by red ropes (two large sections inbetween the three peaks) were currently undergoing "snow stability testing" with explosives, and that anybody going in there was either going to end up dead or arrested. Yikes. On the upside, the trails that were open still had runs up to five and a half kilometers long. Five and a half kilometers takes a REALLY LONG TIME to snowboard down, for those of you wondering. And if that isn't enough, there are "Backcountry Entrance Zones" where you can ski off-piste without incurring the wrath of the ski patrol, for those of you who come prepared with avalanche beacons, shovels, and snowshoes... mind you, without the wrath, you also sacrifice the protection of the ski patrol. Forget that. There are WAY better ways to die than that. Warm ways. Ways in Bermuda.
So I avoided the ropes and stayed in the marked areas, but still got some pretty nice pictures. The first half of the day was a blizzard- great for riding in, as the snow's always fresh, but horrible for pictures, as the visibility's about ten feet- so I've only got these few to show off.
I think the last one's my favorite.That night, back to the Singaporean restaurant (again! What can I say, they're nice guys- and I got back from Niseko at 11:00... way too late to explore the city), and after an evening of chatting with the staff and customers the owner calls me over. He messes around behind the bar for a second and emerges with a Kopitiam staff T-Shirt- which he insists I take back to Shiga, and wear, so as to entice all my friends to come to Hokkaido. Like I said, they're great guys.
The last morning of the trip, I descend upon the buffet like a pack of ravenous crows for the third and final time. Then, it's back on the bus (I spent a lot of time on that bus!) to go to Sapporo Teine Ski Resort. It's not huge like Rusutsu or Niseko, but it's a lot of fun- it's a very family-oriented resort. They've got a mascot, who wanders around mugging for photos.
They've also got a theme park that is only accessible by ski lift. There are signs on the backs of the lift chairs like "Enjoy Go-Carts!" and "Happy Together Family Time!"
Unfortunately, they weren't running the coaster in THE BLIZZARD, nor was the Ferris wheel going. I'm a sucker for Ferris wheels.
After a day of wholly enjoyable snowboarding, my sore carcass clambered on the bus, transferred to a train, and got to the airport two hours before my flight left. So I decided to grab dinner at the airport cafeteria. You order your food in the line, and you get a box about the size of a paperback book with a flashing light at one end- and then you're told to go sit down. Every table has one of these.
So you place your "waiting-box within this sheet limit"- and the microchip under the sheet tells the waiting-box which table you're at. The waiting-box transmits that signal to the register, and the waiter brings you your food- always the right food, always the right place. I'm amazed- it's a great idea. Now all they need is to figure out the English language- I mean, come on. "The visitor of reciept"?!My plane back to Osaka was ANOTHER POKEJET- this one even cooler than the first.
They were so proud of it that they had a model on display in the airport lobby.
Color me impressed. It, too, had the Pikachu headrests and the stewardesses in Pokemon aprons. There's something really charming about the unabashed way that they embrace "cute" in this country. On a completely different track, our "inflight movie" was a live broadcast of the sumo championships. Nothing funnier than watching the big guy next to me- who the whole time watched the sumo absolutely intently- erupt into an exclamation of "CUTE!!!!" when the flight attendant came by with the tray of Pokemon postcards.
Plane ride, bus ride, train ride later, and here I am in Shiga again. Upon reflection, the best part of Hokkaido was the fact that they have central heating up there- central heating, and insulation. The cold isn't so bad when you can look forward to a nice warm house. Here in Shiga, it's cold ALL THE TIME.
No time for worries about that, however. I have a plan for the next adventure... I must find the Koka Ninja Village.
Somewhere in the town of Koka, there is an old ninja training ground. It is, supposedly, absolutely awesome. Koka is on my local train line. It's practically in my backyard. The fact that there is a ninja village here, and that the ninja village's whereabouts have escaped me for this long...
I would be shaming my family and ancestors if I didn't find these ninja. (note: the plural of ninja? Ninja. Why? I don't know. It's like moose. Maybe that way you never know how many ninja there are- one ninja? Eighteen ninja?) But before that, it's back to work- opening ceremonies is tomorrow, and as I understand it I do still have a job. Can't all be snowboarding and ninja.
Wish it could, though...
pax
EDIT: I don't think the original post quite emphasized how cool it was up there in the mountains- there were times, when it was just me, the snow, and the suicidal dropoffs, and it felt like I was the only human being in the world. It was like a cold, silent and solitary heaven- to delve into pop culture, I was a trespasser in the Superman's Fortress of Solitude- and as my fellow suburbanites can attest, when you grow up surrounded by the constant roar of the freeways, silence and open space like that are nigh unto holy.
2 comments:
Get yourself a 'fro and you could be Eddie from SSX Tricky...
Seriously, you have posted some amazing pics Andy. Glad to see you were able to get away for a week and enjoy yourself.
Rock on, man.
AUUUUUGGGHH!!! You have discovered where the Country Bear Jamboree goes to die! I can't believe you didn't recognize it (assuming you've seen the Country Bear Jamboree at Walt Disney World)! I STILL have nightmares about that "Dixie"-spewing auto-animatronic quintet, and the last time I saw them I was, like, twelve. We took a two day trip back to WDW on a quick jet to FL over the holidays, and I wouldn't go near it.
You are braver than I, oh ninja master.
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