Japan and Taiwan: Day 4 - Mission accomplished

Tsuruoka as seen from my hotel window at around five in the morning on Saturday the 14th

About seven years ago, I arrived in Tsuruoka 鶴岡, a small city of around 140,000 souls located by the Sea of Japan 日本海 in rural Yamagata Prefecture 山形県. My intention was to do the Dewa Sanzan 出羽三山 hike, covering three peaks associated with the Japanese mountain ascetics known as yamabushi 山伏. I tackled the first mountain, Haguro-san 羽黒山, without any problem, ascending the 2466 steps to the Shintō shrine 神社 in beautiful weather. The following day, however, an approaching typhoon put paid to my plans to attempt the hikes of the other two mountains, Gassan 月山 and Yudono-san 湯殿山, and, like General MacArthur, I vowed that day that I would return. I actually made plans to do just that in the summer of 2011, but the March 11 earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster that hammered Japan's Tōhoku region 東北地方 forced a change in schedule as well (I ended up going to Okinawa 沖縄 instead that summer).

Tsuruoka Station 鶴岡駅 at around six in the morning, on my way to the bus stop for the ride to Gassan

Finally, seven summers later, I've at last been able to complete the Dewa Sanzan hike. With China's week-long national day holiday upon us, some of my colleagues were wondering why I was taking time off from work in mid-September instead of now. The answer is that public transportation from Tsuruoka to the Gassan trailhead at Gassan Hachigōme 月山八合目 only runs from the start of July to mid-September, and my window of opportunity was fast closing. I arrived in Tsuruoka on Friday the 13th to find a typhoon approaching Japan, but the weather forecast for the following day looked promising (rain was predicted for Sunday the 15th), so I woke up early and caught the 6:02 am bus going to the trailhead. It was to be a long, grueling and alternately hot and chilly morning and afternoon, but after seven hours and 10 kilometers (six miles) I finally earned my yamabushi stripes.

At the start of the trail leading to the top of Gassan. It took a couple of hours by bus to get here, and, as you can see, the weather was perfect.

The official start of the trail is the Eighth Station, a few minutes uphill from the parking lot. The torii 鳥居 arch signifies the spiritual importance of the mountains.

The significance of the rabbit statue was lost on me, but Jizō-sama 地蔵様 protects both travelers and the souls of dead children. For such reasons, I always pay my respects whenever I encounter his statue(s).

The first stage of the trail uphill passed through marshland. The hut in the background was where the above-mentioned torii was located.

The way up consisted of a very gradual ascent, in contrast to the later descent down to Yudonosan-jinja Shrine 湯殿山神社.

Scattered patches of ice in mid-September were a reminder why public transportation links were only in operation for a short time during the summer months. This area is buried under heavy snow in winter.

By the time I reached the 9th station, an hour or so into the hike, the fog had started to roll in. I soon went from being drenched in sweat to thanking myself for having the foresight to bring along a heavy sweater (though in the end I never actually donned it). 

Gassan is noted for its alpine flowers

Almost there...

After 2½ hours, I made it to Gassan-jinja Shrine 月山神社, which sits atop the mountain. Photography inside the shrine was prohibited, but I don't think the gods would be upset if I write about what went on after entering the premises. After paying ¥500 (about $5), a priest first purifies you by waving a paper banner over your head while reciting a prayer, then hands you a paper figurine. You rub the cutout over your head, shoulders and body, then place it into some water and enter the inner shrine compound. Following prayers and a circuit around the interior, you then make your way out of the shrine (but not before purchasing some amulets - I've amassed a small collection over the years).

1984 meters (6509 feet) above sea level. By the this point, the clouds were swallowing up Gassan-jinja. A few moments later the shrine couldn't be seen at all.

Halfway to Yudonosan-jinja. It had now taken me almost three hours to cover five kilometers (3.1 miles) uphill. How long could a 5K descent take? Four hours, as it turned out.

Ready for the downhill trek. Or so I thought...

The first stage of the descent was slow-going, owing to the steepness, the large stones that had to be stepped over carefully and the large numbers of hikers on their way up to Gassan. The scenery more than made up for it.

The trail ahead of me soon branched off to a ski lift, which explained why there were so many going in the opposite direction (i.e. hiking up to Gassan).

Looking back toward Gassan, the shrine was no longer visible. No turning back now...

Soon after passing the branch leading off to the ski lift, the trail widened out and leveled off, and it appeared it was going to be as gentle a trip down to Yudonosan-jinja as the ascent was up to Gassan-jinja. It wasn't long, however, before the trail split. The easy-looking trail continued uphill, but the sign indicating the way to Yudono-san pointed to the right and a rough-looking, narrow path barely clinging to the side of the mountain. A group of middle-aged female hikers, after confirming that I knew in which direction I was headed, told me to 気をつけて - "Be careful". They were right.

The trail soon veered away from the mountainside, but the steep, stony path only got harder. Each step was a potential sprained ankle or retorn knee ligament. At one point, the side of the trail gave out from under me, and I almost fell into the thick brush. It soon became apparent why there were only a few hikers on this trail, contrary to the impression I had gotten from reading guidebooks.

The scenery, of course, was never anything but incredible. The ridge in the distance was part of the same range as Gassan, showing how far I'd come.

A video I shot while taking a short break. The area of road that can be seen far down in the distance was the site of Yudonosan-jinja, showing how far I still had to go.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any more difficult, I came across the ladders. These were a series of ladders bolted into the side of the mountain. Rusting and wobbly in many places, for someone as afraid of heights as I am, getting down these things was a challenge. My feet were shaking from fear as I gingerly climbed down, occasionally having to sidle over to another ladder and often finding it difficult to get a secure foothold. At times I would need to hold on to chains that had also been put in place. It was with a great sense of relief when I alit from the last of the ladders…

 

…only to then have to carefully continue downhill on a streambed, filled with mossy and/or slippery stones. I’ve always been unbalanced and not just mentally, and gravity did its hardest to pull me down, but somehow I eventually made it to the end of the trail relatively unscathed, four hours after leaving Gassan-jinja. 

If I had to choose a religion to follow, it would probably be Shintō 神道, and the idea that a god (or gods) reside in natural objects. 

At last, Yudonosan-jinja. I’ve been to hundreds of Shinto shrines over the years, but none like this one. First off, all visitors had to remove their shoes and enter the precinct barefoot, the antithesis of going into a typical Japanese home. Following the ritual purification (the same as on Gassan), I proceeded into the inner grounds. Here, there were no buildings or halls containing symbols of the gods. Instead, the objection of veneration was a large orange boulder. Everyone had to climb up, and then down, the large rock, which was steaming from the hot water cascading over it (and which felt great after the long trek). The visit ended with a long, relaxing foot bath, before donning my sweaty socks and hiking shoes. As with Gassan-jinja, photography wasn’t permitted, so I had to sneak the shot above. The boulder can be glimpsed on the right.

The large red torii at the entrance to Yudonosan-jinja. Note the oversized straw sandal in the background, denoting this as a place of pilgrimage.  

A well-earned beer enjoyed while waiting for the bus back to Tsuruoka. The small dish held a complimentary serving of myōga 茗荷, or Japanese ginger. Interestingly, the word with different characters 冥加 can mean "divine protection or blessing", thus making it a highly appropriate snack, for I have been born (Haguro-san), died (Gassan) and reborn (Yudono-san).

My dinner at the end of the day, yakiniku raisu 焼肉ライス. Like many others I met in this part of Japan, the very fact that I could speak a few words of Japanese was of great relief to the elderly couple running the diner.

Back around 1991/92, I prepared a list of noted Shinto shrines and sacred mountains in Japan, and promised myself that I would eventually visit all of them. They ranged from the gateway to the other world in the north of Honshū Island 本州 that is Osorezan 恐山, to the cave at Takachiho 高千穂 on the southern island of Kyūshū 九州, where the sun goddess Amaterasu 天照 hid, plunging the world into darkness, until she was lured out by an erotic dance performed by one of the lesser goddesses (gotta love Japanese mythology). It’s taken 21 or 22 years, but with the completion of the Dewa Sanzan hike (which itself required seven years), I’ve finally visited them all.

So where do I go from here?

 

Japan and Taiwan: Days 1, 2 and 3

Tōkyō 東京, I couldn't believe I was in Tokyo again.

Well, actually, I could. But it had been about seven years since I'd last set foot in the city I consider to be my most favorite in this world, and it felt great to be back, even it was only to be for three nights in total on this visit. I flew into Tokyo's Haneda Airport 羽田空港 on a Wednesday afternoon, and quickly made my way from there to Shinjuku's 新宿 west side 西新宿, where my hotel was located. After checking in and dropping off my bags, it was time to grab some dinner and take a walk in the evening through some familiar haunts:

The east side of Shinjuku Station 新宿駅. Always busy no matter the day or night. Even if you've never been there, you've probably seen Shinjuku-dōri 新宿通り in movies or music videos. 

Hanazono-jinja 花園神社. This Shintō 神道 shrine has occupied the space for several centuries, while the city grew up around it. It looks more attractive after dark than in the daytime, which holds true for much of the Shinjuku area.

Behind Hanazono-jinja is a network of narrow lanes filled with tiny bars, the most famous of which is Golden Gai ゴールデン街. On my next visit to Tokyo, I'm determined to pay a visit to the punk rock bar which was just getting ready to open as I walked by.

Shinjuku's Kabukichō 歌舞伎町 area was as lively, though sleazy, as ever. Unlike in many Western cities, however, Japan's red-light districts are relatively safe to walk around in, and have many legitimate bars, clubs and restaurants in addition to the other "attractions". 

The next morning I woke up early to do some sightseeing. On the way to the Tochōmae subway station 都庁前駅, I passed by some of the west side's striking high-rises:

The Mode Gakuen Cocoon Tower hadn't been built yet the last time I was in town

The Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building 東京都庁 shone brightly in the early morning sunlight. I was up before six and out of my hotel around seven in order to avoid Tokyo's notorious rush hour crush. The reason for doing so was to see Tokyo Sky Tree 東京スカイツリー, the city's newest attraction (for me, at any rate), and at 634 meters (2080 feet) Japan's tallest structure.

The view from the lower level. Tokyo is a sprawling city, but with the exception of Mount Fuji 富士山, there aren't any landmarks that immediately draw one's gaze (and Japan's iconic mountain wasn't visible on this morning). Still, all that concrete at that elevation does make for a fascinating sight, even if the admission fee (¥2000-3000, or about $20-30, depending on how high up you want to go) is a bit, ahem, high.

In the foreground is Tokyo's Ryōgoku 両国 area, home to the Edo-Tokyo Museum 江戸東京博物館 and the National Sumō Stadium 国技館. In the distance could be glimpsed Tokyo Tower 東京タワー, once the city's highest icon but now in serious danger of being made irrelevant by Tokyo Sky Tree.

Looking down and toward Asakusa 浅草

Sky Tree casts a shadow

It's a long way down

Tokyo Sky Tree from the outside looking up. From the tower, I took a walk over to, and then across, the Sumida-gawa River 隅田川 to Asakusa.

I've been to Asakusa many times in the past, so I didn't stay long in the area. The top floor of the new tourist information center across the street from the iconic Kaminari-mon gate 雷門 provided a nice view of Tokyo Sky Tree, as well as of Philippe Starck's notorious "flaming turd" building.

The same floor also looked out over Sensōji-ji Temple 浅草寺 and the Nakamise-dōri shopping street.

From Asakusa, I took the subway to Marunouchi 丸の内 and the recently restored Tokyo Station 東京駅, which now looks more like its 1913 self than it has in decades. Marunouchi, in fact, has been transformed from a dull business district into an area of top-end shops and high-priced restaurants.

The National Diet Building 国会議事堂 is in the process of being hemmed in by high-rises

The garden at Marunouchi Brick Square 

At this point, it was lunch time and I had a date with an old friend, Aviva, whom I hadn't seen in far too long a time. We met in Shinjuku and caught up at an old cafe that looked as if it hadn't changed much since the 1970's, an appropriate setting for a couple of old vets such as us. Though I have to admit that Aviva is aging far better than I am, resembling a vintage bottle of wine while I'm turning into vinegar. It was wonderful seeing her again, and I regret being so absorbed in our conversation that I neglected to take any photos. 

A lot of new construction has taken place in Shibuya 渋谷, but it's youthful energy was still in abundance. I passed through here on my way to see another old friend.

This time I remembered to take out the camera. Doug and his charming wife Keiko treated me to an extremely delicious home-cooked dinner, while their dog Bruno provided the evening's entertainment. Getting to see two old friends on the same day by itself made this vacation a worthwhile endeavor. 

The next morning (Friday the 13th), it was time to leave Tokyo, but not before having lunch. I couldn't leave Japan without having my favorite dish, tonkatsu とんかつ, and why wait until the end of my visit?

Traveling by a combination of the bullet train 新幹線 and the limited express 特急 Inaho いなほ, I made my way from Shinjuku to the small city of Tsuruoka 鶴岡, located in Yamagata Prefecture 山形県, a journey that involved changes of train in Ōmiya 大宮 and Niigata 新潟. On this trip I was to make good use of my JR Pass.

Passing by the Sea of Japan 日本海 on the Inaho

The view of the autumn moon from my hotel room in Tsuruoka. I would stay here for three nights, the reason for which will be explained in the next blog post.

The Life Aquatic with Princess Nami

This dangerous looking contraption is firing what are known as Xiābǐng 虾饼, a kind of shrimp pastry. The machine is noisy, and you probably wouldn't want to put your hand in there while it's operating, but my daughter assured me that xiabing are pretty tasty. We saw this thing in the snack area on the first floor of the Shàng​hǎi Ocean Aquarium 上海海洋水族馆, located in Shanghai's futuristic-looking Pǔ​dōng 浦东 area, and which Amber and I visited on this cloudy, partly drizzly and cooler-than-usual Saturday. As aquatic zoos go, Shanghai's is smaller than most others I've visited over the years and could probably be safely skipped if you are sans children, but my energetic youngster certainly enjoyed it, especially the several viewing tunnels, and gave it an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Just be sure to eat outside, where the options are more numerous and presumably more delicious.

She who smiles at the sight of sharks is definitely a chip off the old block

The aquarium is organized into nine different thematic zones, such as "Africa", "Cold Water" and "Sea & Shore". The route inside starts with the "China Zone", and displays endangered native aquatic animals such as the Chinese giant salamander and the Chinese alligator.

As the evidence above indicates, the aquarium is popular with families and young couples. This being China, where you have great numbers of people pursuing a finite number of choices or options, a lot of pushing to get in front was the result, but neither Amber nor I minded much. My daughter, in fact, quickly learned to use her agility and small size to her advantage when it came to seizing prime viewing spots.

Descending deeper into the depths...

It wasn't all fish at the Shanghai Ocean Aquarium, as the above pictures show. Feeding time for the penguins proved to be very popular with the visitors. In China, that is not necessarily such a good thing. 

Amber was fascinated with the jellyfish tanks. She took several photos, including this one. You can see more examples of her work at her own photo blog, Amber's Photo Journal. 

More viewing tunnels, including one full of sharks and all connected by the world's slowest "moving sidewalk". 

"Moving" through the shark zone. If you're wondering what Amber is going on about in this clip, let's just say she was taking the concept of a "school of fish" very literally. 

Feeding time was a particularly exciting moment for my daughter. The diver in the fish tank merely opened a bag of food as the fish swam by, though at one point he had to fend off a hungry sea turtle with his feet, much to the (mild) consternation of the onlookers. The (presumably) same diver naturally had to be more cautious in the shark tank, where he held out a pole with skewered fish at the opposite end, letting the sharks and rays bite off what they wanted from a (hopefully) safe distance. 

Amber strikes a pose with "Fluffy", which we bought in the souvenir shop strategically placed (as they always are) immediately outside the aquarium's exit. You can make out the Shanghai Ocean Aquarium in the photo above as the as the triangular-shaped white building to the right of my daughter. The ridiculous Oriental Pearl Tower  东方明珠广播电视塔 we left for another day - preferably one in which the skies would be much clearer than they were this afternoon.

Speaking of things ridiculous, we had the dubious "pleasure" of crossing the Huáng​pǔ River 黄浦江 on Shanghai's ludicrous attempt to cash in on the publicity generated by the giant inflatable rubber duck that garnered so much attention when it floated in Hong Kong's harbor a few months ago. Only Shanghai's version is more disturbing at it appears to resemble a dead duck, the kind you would find on the dinner table at a Chinese banquet, perhaps. It's also cheaply made, as closer inspection revealed that the "artwork" was nothing more than old newspapers plastered on the sides of the ferry and coated with a brown paste of some kind. The local blogosphere has been scathing in its criticism.

Back on the Bund 外滩 at the end of the day