A Spoon of Sushi

Well, I've cleared my desk, packed my bags, and am currently purchasing and organising the last few things I need to assure that I don't accidentally die whilst holidaying... I bought myself a hat yesterday to fend off sunstroke, but not just any hat: This is one of those titanium alloy nigh on indestructible hiking hats. Whats more, I look vaguely good in it!

Its been a good year. I've learnt a lot, and think I'll do much better in my degree for my time spent... but right now, I'm tired, and I want to go home. This may be the last thing I write here until I return to University, at which point this whole site will be somewhat pointless and I shall be reduced to writing the equivalent of a *spit* livejournal.

So, this is me, Tony Porteous, signing off. If you don't hear from me by August 20th, I'm probably

• Stoned and living with some oriental hippie chick
• Locked in some Yakusa slave trainer camp
• Lost in the wilderness and desperately fending off the viscious Kagoshima mountain monkeys
• Having a magical adventure with Totoro over on Yakushima
• Dead at the hands of a thousand peace protesters at the Hiroshima Peace Festival (They mistook me for an American)

Or I could just be lazy.

Friends missed: 57

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Right, I got fed up listening to all you slabbers back in England going on about "Glastonbury is Great! it has rockin' bands" "Glastonbury is great! We sat in a stoned circle!" "Glastonbury is great! We chased a lady demanding truffles!" and will now attempt to out trump you. I have one (1) ticket to the 2004 Fuji Rock Festival and a tent. In this heat, I doubt I'll need a sleeping bag...

Now all I'm lacking is the first clue as what to do. This is my first rock festival, so can I have some tips from the pros as what to do, who to act, what to smoke? Also, take a look at the Lineup and tell this rock neanderthal what I must see Currently on the list is

• Belle and Sebastian (again)
• The Chemical Brothers
• The White Stripes

The fact that this list is so short shows how little I know. Little help here people?

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I've probably written it before, and I've definitely said it before, but the Japanese LOVE their food. If you want to doom yourself to hell through gluttony, heres the place. If anything is going to lure me back to this country, it will be the desire for one last taste of Unagi - fried eel. I've devoured sushi in conveyor belt cafes. I've slurped every variety of noodles I can find. I've happily (and in some cases unhappily) tried just about every delicacy they've put in front of me up to and including fermented soy beans. No sign of the puffer fish yet, but I'll keep look.

But of out of all of it, the one foodstuff I'll recall the taste of while I'm dying in my bed: The single cube of ice we are given to suck, during the break from kendo practise in the breathstealing heat of Japanese summer.

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I went to see another live show last night: A band named Spanky who I last heard street singing must be six months ago. Their CD has been eating away my resolve until I just had to see them before I jet off home.

I've learnt my lesson over the year: Scope out the club beforehand to make sure you're not...

1. going to miss the show trying to find the damn place
2. going to be walking through the Yakuza gang leaders back garden
3. walking into a refined blues and jazz bar wearing cyberpunk rave gear
4. walking into a deathtrap of gaptoothed japanese punk/metal vampire thugs

So, like a good boy I wandered around Shibuya the night before. It was too late to peek inside but I did find the elevator leading down, only to return and find out it wasn't. Took me 15 minutes to discover the club was down the dark alley behind the nice safe elevator. Its a good thing I didn't have a chance to dress up too, because it was a refined jazza and blues bar. No punk rocker death squad, but I'm sure they're waiting to ambush me.

I love jazz bars. I love the style I get to try on when I'm in them. I slid up to the bar and ordered a whisky in that way you see in the movies where they don't say a word. Nope. No "Please may I have a Jim Bean Whisky with Ice and soda please" in bad Japanese. No I just caught the bar tender's eye, nodded at the bottle, did my Roger Moore impression, and slid a note accross the counter. I got exactly what I wanted and sipped it thinking "I am the man". It would have been a million times better if I was wearing my Trilby though. A billion if I could drink a whisky without losing the use of my legs.

Spanky were all the better for my whisky haze. Theres four of them, but the lights were focused on the singer and the most excellent honky tonk keyboard player. They're sort of like a Japanese Ben Folds Five with a fine female lead. Though they've got a few fans, I wonder again at the music industry and how such talent goes nearly unacknowledged.

Whiskys sipped: 2 (I ordered the second just by raising a finger. I am the man)

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Today's hotel was a Ryokan. I think that's Japanese for "Expensive". Still, I got to sleep in a proper tatami and futon room, and was fed delish Japanese foodstuffs by the hostess. A futon is a Japanese rollout bed thing. They have magical lethargy inducing powers. Men have starved to death, been eaten alive and even refused sex rather than leave the fluffy warm confines of their futon. Through sheer force of will I threw off the evil magic, breakfasted grandly and was out the door to hunt samurai.

I arrived at the town square to watch the number of armoured soldiers slowly swell until a most fearsome army filled the square to bursting. I suppose this wasn't your "typical" re-enactment since rather than being staffed by enthusiasts, it's staffed by locals. Therefore there were kids trading in their school uniforms for a very different sort, and adults who looked like they may still remember the original dust off. I am pleased to say that there were female samurai in most every platoon, along with their own exclusive one, armed with flowery uniforms, viscious polearms and disarming smiles.

There was even a few horseback officers, though I was more than a little worried about how well trained these horses were for having nasty metal people on their back and being surrounded by crowds of people with katanas and flashbulbs. A couple were dancing sideways, whinnieying wildly and on the verge of demonstating the age old weapon known as the short range organic catapult.

Oh yes. The cute widdle kiddies were there too in their minature armour. Making people coo and aw. I didn't throw anything at them.

The parade marched to a drumbeat through town. Most every street was filled with local onlookers and refreshingly few gaijin. Old ladies peeked out at the passing soldiers from their store fronts and kiddies were held firmly by their parents to prevent them from running in front of the cavalry; oddly reminiscent, perhaps, of when this wasn't just a festival parade.

It was then a couple of hours on the grass verge of the battlefield waiting for things to start. During this time I amused myself by seeing how much redder I could turn and how many people I could annoy with my umbrella.

The two armies (now several hundred men strong) marched out and arrayed themselves on the battlefield. They were garbed in convenient red and blue tinted banded mail, each with a pole-banner lashed to their back depicting their allegiance, each brandishing either katana, musket or long bow. In typical Japanese style, there was an opening battle ceremony... the sort where the highlight for an onlooker is watching someone pick up a pot... move his hand and... yes... he just sat down! Woo!

It ended soon enough thankfully, and the fun bit got underway: lots of armoured people charging at each other with pikes, Samurai commanders getting into rather dramatic if hammy sword fights, much to the crowds delight. Sometimes a platoon on one side would charge, but the other army wouldn't bite, so they'd reach the middle of the battle field, not know what to do, feel silly and shuffle back to the ranks... Not sure what was going on there.

Every now and then the pike men would withdraw and the riflemen would fire a round with their slow, portable logs. They're apparently rather accurate replicas, with paper bumgs instead of bullets. They give off a loud bang, and a cloud of smoke but, looking at accuracy and rate of fire, are rather ineffective. I imagine they were more used for their psychological impact than anything else.

They even fired some soft arrows to give the impression of those thousand strong archer platoons that reputedly blocked out the sun when they were let loose... that didn't work.... though the members of the crowd that hadn't seen larp arrows before were impressed.

The to-ing and fro-ing and screaming and piking and ooing and ahhing continued for best part of an hour. Historically, this was one of the bloodier battles to take place, the Uesegi clan leader launching an unsuccessful surprise attack (I believe) that resulted in a lot of bloodshed on both sides. Like pretty much every battle, it ender in a draw. See, Clan Lord A, even if he could kick Clan Lord B's oriental ass, can't afford the troop loss that would afford him because it would leave him too weak to stand up to Clan Lord C. For all the battling of feudal Japan, the situation was simply a very violent stalemate.

Battle over and I had to panic about getting home. Seems all the cheap trains were booked solid for three days, and I didn't have a hotel, nor the money to afford three nights. Word of advice: plan ahead.

Thankfully a kind lady at the tourist office got me a train on the shinkansen. It cost me a quarter of what I couldn't afford in hotels, and got me home direct in two hours to boot. Bonus.

Samurai killed: 2591

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Ow. Ow ow ow. Ow. Walking the entire length of a city and then some makes your legs hurt. Ow. Sunburn exists and mocks the unsuspecting gaijin. I am now redder than a spanked tomato.

I planned a rather circular route taking me past most everything of interest, including my new hotel, before winding up back in the city centre for the evening festivities.

First stop was the Uesugi clan mausoleum: a line of identical oriental styled crypts each housing one from a millenias worth of feudal lords. The burial grounds are surrounded by the remnants of some truly mighty cedars. Once upon a time this spot must have been a wooded grove for the wanderer to happen upon. I then past a couple of average temples hardly worthy of comment after the number I've seen.

Now the painful part: I wanted to visit a more interesting Buddhist temple on the other side of the city. I could either go sort of straight though the boring area of town, or take the longer route through the countryside. Desire to escape from the concrete was strong enough to overcome even my Lazy-ass-son-of-a-bitch-ness. I chose the latter and bar sunburn am glad.

See, I finally had a chance to leave civilisation completely behind me, following a dirt track up into the hillside woods... Now, yes, I must have survived because I'm writing this, but please take into account for a moment the following

1. I was alone.
2. I was in no way prepared to go wandering in the wilderness.
3. I was in an unfamiliar city in an unfamiliar country in an unfamiliar hemisphere.
4. No one knew where I was or what I was doing.
5. Japanese forests are known for being exceptionally vertical.
6. I have a reputation for falling off cliffs.
7. I am Tony.

In my defence, I thought all of the above at the time, and was exceptionally careful of my footing / route etc, but feel free to call me a f***ing idiot nonetheless. I had a good time so nyah! I followed a narrow river uphill until I came across an ancient moss covered dam. A cherry tree was blossoming over it, and I could hear the water trickling around its crumbling base.

Returning unscathed I wandered past field and farmstead, odd woman were hunched over sowing the years first crop, wisely wearing big floppy bonnets against the sun and completely unaware of their gaijin observer. I saw very few men, and only ever behind a tractor. Is farming a woman's job in japan? Are the men at home vacuuming, changing the sheets and watching Oprah? I guess I'll never know.

I escaped the sun to a roadside coffee shop most definitely worthy of the tag local. Inside were half a dozen gossiping women. They turned out to be delighted at the arrival of a "cute" English tourist, complimenting him on how good his terrible Japanese was, and discussing bread. It has to be the warmest reception I've received to date.

Eventually I reached the temple. It was deserted and silent bar the stream that ran straight through it birdsong from the woods behind. It was certainly a fine example of its kind, a copper dragon guarding the cleansing water, fresh aprons on the Buddha statues and a generally decent atmosphere. To put it short; well worth the trip, though now I was running out of time and needed to get back for the festival.

I made it just in time to hear the Japanese drum opening. The drums were played in a relay by pairs of talented drummers throughout the whole two hour festival. Speakers blared out descriptions in Japanese as lots of people dressed in very spangly Samurai armour and weaponry charged on brandishing burning torches. The ceremony is a re-enactment of what was reputedly performed by the Lord Kenshin Uesugi before each of the 80 odd battles he fought in. As well as being an excuse for a party, it was how Lord Kenshin kept his humility. It was a reminder of the virtues the non-expansionist lord was fighting for. That, at least, is what it says on the pamphlet. All I can vouch for are the pretty costumes, the rifle, sword and polearm demonstrations, the cute kiddies in armour and the really really pretty armour.

Did I mention the pretty armour?

Pretty suits of armour seen: Several hundred.

People bugged by a strange gaijin asking where he can buy samurai armour: 12

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It's a tired expression which I've heard lots but never used. Well, Yonezawa deserves the term. �gNestled in the mountains�h means that wherever you stand, even in the city centre, you can see the distant mountains rising away. They would be the backdrop for the many hours of walking that lay ahead of me, sometimes laden like a packhorse as I searched for my hotel, sometimes just regularly laden with the bulging contents of my pockets.

There were plenty of hours to kill before sunset no matter how knackered I was, so to I got the tour office to circle things on my map and set off. I wasn't sure what the places were, but that wasn't about to stop me.

First port of call was what I thought was a rice wine museum. The place seemed deserted and I wasn't sure which building was the actual museum. I wandered past a small allotment until a dog started barking at me. Thinking I had gone in a private house, I turned around to leave, spotting an old lady peering at me from the box office window. With what dignity I could recover, I failed to speak Japanese at her for five minutes until through much waving of pamphlets I realised that this was not a rice wine museum but a samurai armour and weaponry museum. Ka-ching!

A small semicircular room displayed a dozen or so excellently preserved suits of Japanese armour. Of all the world's knightly warriors, the samurai probably the most... gay. His vestments are brightly coloured and embroidered with flowery designs. This is covered by banded (lacquer?) armour, strung together by gaudy threads, the extremities wrapped in patterned chain mail. His helmet will have a highly elaborate and impractical pair of horns or crescent moon or similar design. The only manly bit is the terracotta face mask, depicting a fearsome demon face complete with bristly horse hair moustache. Hell, the Samurai is known to be as skilled in Origami and Flower arranging as he is in Kendo. As pretty as it all is, it strikes as much fear into my foreign barbarian heart as Graham Norton... No, actually he's pretty scary.

In the other building was a selection of weapons. There were no swords, but there were a selection of sheathed polearms, and even some ancient muskets, which look as much like a modern rifle as the don't look like a log. There was also a very very tiny shoulder barge. Either it was made for children, or the Japanese used to be even smaller than I thought...

Next I visited the shrine where the festival celebrations would be. The shrine itself was huge, and crowded with people wandering from the festival stands that clustered around it and kept at bay only by the moat surrounding the shrine. Nothing much was happening at the time though, so after wandering among the stalls I left to find some beef.

Yonezawa beef is the famous local delicacy. Its also well out of my price range. I eventually managed to find a ramen noodle house that served a beef meal. The stuff is tender and tasty, but nothing amazing... more to be eaten to say you did.

My room was at the cheapest hotel in Yonezawa. Unfortunately, it was the cheapest hotel in Yonezawa... Thankfully no six legged friends wanted to sleep with me, but the air conditioner sounded like it was about to explode, the walls were black, the carpet threadbare and the pillow filled with what I assume were peas. Advice: when faced with such a situation, make sure you've been awake for 36 hours straight. I slept like a log.

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This is all Dan's fault.

There I was, all set to spend my holiday picking my nose in my Tokyo mini-flat, and he had to go and point out the historical re-enactment about to be staged on the other side of Japan. Now I've got to go see samurai shooting each other, explore a new city and generally enjoy myself. Bastard.

Even worse, I now had to get up at stupid o clock for the student class train journey. Here's a piece of advice for all your budding adventurers. The day before you have to get up at 3 AM, it is not advised to experiment with how much quadrupling your caffeine intake will improve your productivity at work. Not only did I feel like throwing up all night, but I lost the ability to blink.

It kept me awake on the train at least. That meant I got to enjoy a view that didn't involve Tokyo! Instead of buildings, I got to see those magical tree things again. As we climbed up the vastly vertical mountains, great walls of blossoming vegetation stretched away above and below me. When things weren't vertical, rice fields, filled the view, with the first hint of shoots poking through the surface of the water. (for those who don't know, a rice field looks like an agricultural paddling pool. Rice likes a good soaking.

Eight hours and 5000 yen later, I arrived in Yonezawa; home of the annual re-enactment of the bloodiest battle in the Uesugi clan history. I now had two days to kill before the big event.

On a side note, the honey orange tea I consumed at a station café was delicious. Could someone please remind me of this when I return so I can practise the recipe.

Hours of travel: 8

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W ell, it seems I missed the bulk of the Sakura, which is a shame. That doesn't stop it being spring though, and pretty with a blend of other blossoms, buzzing of beesand whatnot... today viewed with a condiment of temples.

Asakusa is a very popular temple district. You find temples most anywhere in Japan. I'm positive I'll find one suddenly appear in my cupboard one day or something. �gTemple district�h implies the existence of a very big temple (filled with tourists), behind which will be several smaller ones. Turn the corner from these and there will be another even small temple, probably complete with an old woman. In the alley behind this there will be another tiny Shinto shrine, which is just up the road from another. The whole thing is like some very large, highly spiritual Russian doll.

Twas' all very pretty what with the blossoms veritably wafting through the courtyards on a breeze scented with delicate perfumes of spring and the combined smokey grease smell of a thousand street side food vendor.

I'd heard there was also a rather smart old market around the area. A little enquiring found me a few nice treasures. First were a selection of shops selling swords, fans, sandals and the usual tourist tat. Most of them were vending replicas, but quite unexpectedly I found a very possibly real one hidden among them. The fact that it was hidden was the first clue. The fact that the shop was tiny, cluttered, smelled heavily of lacquer, and contained two old men chatting was clue two through five. Clue six was the naked blades behind locked glass, clue six the extra couple of zeros on most every price tag.

Then there was the other sword shop. Similar to the Possibly Lesbian Nightclub I went to, there were clues swinging both ways (pardon the pun). The price was one zero higher, not two. There were naked blades on display, but they didn't look tempered, and were among other obviously tourist things such as the toy shruiken and sword catchers. The clincher was a naked blade not locked behind glass. Looking at the edge, I could see the marks where it had been filed sharp! Either this was a clever fake sword vendor, or a real one who had learned how to �gcator�h for tourists.

I also found a shop exclusively selling rocks. They were pretty rocks, I'll give them that, but rocks annoy me intensely. Ever noticed how a good bulk of anime (and other fantasy) stories go something along the lines of

1. Schoolboy/schoolgirl is transported to magical kingdom.
2. Goes on quest for rocks.

I mean, rocks! When have rocks been useful to us? Get a big one and you can wallop someone with it, quite hard even, if you have a catapult. Get lots nicely shaped ones and you can make walls. Stand on them and you can see a bit further... but why people are obsessed with pebbles having the power to destroy planets at the shake of a schoolgirl... I don't know. Sadly, none of the rocks in this shop were glowing with the power of ancient lost civilizations. I asked, and they said a new shipment was due in Tuesday.

Ancient civilisations transported to: 0

Ancient civilisations saved from certain destruction through application of rocks: 0

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I just watched a firetruck go by, sirens blaring. The blaring siren consisted by a short electrical ting-a-ling followed by a daity female voice saying something like "Very sorry to trouble you. please excuse us. Coming through". Now, I'm all for common coertesy. Its good to know even the emergency services practise it, but when I'm trapped in a burning building, something like "Get out of the way you retards TONYS ON FIRE!! would be far more appreciated. But then, what do I know?

Sleepless nights: 8

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