nude highway driving

Determined to not waste my Sunday after sleeping later than I wanted to, I hopped a subway to Tokyo Station and from there caught a ride to Kamakura, a beautiful town on the coast that was capital of Japan from the late-1100s to the early 1300s and contains a shit-ton of Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines. I wouldn’t get there until 2-something, but I was feeling a little sick of spending every weekend in the city and it felt like a good day for adventure.

I wasn’t sure exactly how to find my train line once I got to Tokyo Station, but I have perfected the “Clueless Gaijin” stare. I just go near some signs in Japanese and stare blankly at them with a perplexed look on my face. It never fails — someone always comes up and asks if they can help me. Often they’ll apologize for their “bad” English and then start speaking it better than 50% of America’s teenagers. Since my Japanese is worse than 98% of Japan’s 1-year-olds, I happily keep the conversation in my language.

I began the day at Engajuki, a beautiful temple right outside the Kita-Kamakura train station. It was created after some fierce fighting with the Mongolians to honor all soldiers who died in the battle. The ruler at the time was really into Zen Buddhism and the brochure said his practice helped him get through the trying situation. I haven’t had to defeat any Mongolian invaders, but I do feel the need for a little Zen action sometimes. Probably works better than Roppongi Beer meditation.

There also allegedly is a tooth of the Buddha located in one of the shrines at the temple. Icky.

It was getting late and I decided I could not leave without seeing the giant Buddha — the Daibutsu. This was something I had wanted to see for five years, and even though Kamakura’s only an hour away from Tokyo by train I was not about to leave without my fix. I saw a Japanese couple standing in front of a city map, so I walked up behind them and turned on the Clueless Gaijin (it’s like blue steel, but pathetic).

“Where are you going?” was the response to my powerful stare.
Me: “Umm, I want to see Daibutsu. I think there is a trail.”
Couple: “Yes, the Daibutsu Nature Trail. It goes up the mountain, through the woods.”
Me: “Perfect!”
Couple, looking at their watches (it was about 3:30) and the sky (it threatened rain): “Umm, it is 2.3 kilometers. Uphill.”
Me: “Groovy!”
Couple’s thought balloon: “Freak.”

I really haven’t had a good hike in too long, so I figured this was perfect. I would get back in touch with Nature, then emerge from the woods to embrace the dharma. Or at least a giant-ass bronze Buddha. I started walking up the paved road, which became a gravel road, which soon became straight-up singletrack dirt. I was enjoying the sights, feeling like I was back in Colorado during my hiking prime (except for the painfully thick air attacking me). There were little trails that branched off the main one, which made me nervous, but I stuck to my instincts.

At some point I stopped, looked around at nothing but trees, listened to nothing but crows, and thought: “Wow, I really shouldn’t be hiking alone when it’s about to storm out on a trail I’ve never seen before in a country where I can’t read the trail signs, if there ever are any.”
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My Friday night began cute enough — with tiny little puppies in display cases with their own little leather couches on which to lounge (or play). My coworker and I were headed for dinner in Roppongi and we stumbled upon this little guy and some of his friends at the dog store. The place specializes in the super-small dogs that are humongously popular here in Tokyo. There’s one kind of poodle (I think) that looks like a stuffed bear. I think this guy has more character. He barked until the shop dude took him out and gave him some scratches. I really wanted to take him (the dog) home. This dog is worthy of pets and loves. This dog deserves a wonderful home. This dog costs $5,000. This dog can wait for a nice, rich Japanese person’s home.

After dinner at some Tahiti-themed place and failed attempts at finding anybody exciting at a couple other bars, my coworker and I ended up at Mogambo, a nefarious shot bar from which I’ve emerged at dawn before. “Hogwash” was the shot of the week. Mogambo and its sister bar, the used-to-be-fun Geronimo, can be wonderful if your timing’s right. Mogambo has a bell and Geronimo has a drum. If you ring the bell or beat the drum, you are signifying that you will buy everyone in the bar a shot. Usually people pick the shot of the week. I eventually got three free shots of Hogwash at Mogambo. My coworker got hit on by part of a Rugby team. I tried to get her to arm-wrestle the Vin Diesel look-alike, but to no avail.

We also ran into a Taiwanese travel agent friend I met last year (at the same bar) and hadn’t seen since. I think everyone I’ve ever met in this bar has been from some country other than Japan. Soon after this I walked my coworker home, around 1:30 a.m., and had one of those thoughts like “I really should go to bed myself.” But shot logic said “Hey, you’re not tired. Go back out!”

And it’s a good thing I did. Because I met my first viking. Well, he was a big, drunk Norwegian guy, but he stood mighty like the vikings of yore and claimed that deep down we are all full of the vikings’ blood. He also said I was going to be president of the United States. And he bought me beers that I didn’t drink, then would think they were his and drink them. After long chugs of the Corona he would slam down his bottle and let out a barbaric yawlp like I’ve never heard. You know how heavy metal guys do that “ahhhhhhh” thing where their voices waver? It was like that, though not a high voice. A deep, but not bass, voice — and he would hold that sound for quite a while. It permeated the bar. I felt like I was going into battle against the Visigoths. Each time he did it the other bar patrons would clap. I briefly considered asking him to do the Spam chant, but he was freakin’ huge and I didn’t want him to turn.

I stayed out way too late and got home at sunrise. Of course, the sun comes up at 4 a.m. here, which really messes with my head. I also got up way too late but made it over to Ueno for some yummy kaiten sushi (sushi on a conveyor belt). It’s the perfect way to start a day.