Especially this part (emphasis mine):

“I always had this perverted sense of pride because I was managing to scrape by here,” said Brooklyn resident Andrew McQuade, who, after watching two subway rats gnawing on a third bloody rat carcass, finally determined that New York City was a giant sprawling cancer. “Well, fuck that. I don’t need to pay $2,000 a month to share a doghouse-sized apartment with some random Craigslist dipshit to prove my worth. I want to live like a goddamn human being.”

“You see this?” added McQuade, pointing at a real estate listing for a duplex in Hagerstown, MD. “Two bedrooms, two baths, a den—a fucking den—and a patio. Twelve hundred a month. That’s total, not per person.”

One of the funny — and by funny, I mean frustrating — things about New York (and, I imagine, most other major American cities, although I wouldn’t know firsthand. Except LA, which like New York is expensive and full of horrible people, plus it’s also hot and you have to drive everywhere) is the sickening wealth gap and perversely inflated living costs.

Another thing that is not actually “funny,” but, in fact, disgusting, is how Jersey Shore’s Snooki makes $30,000 per episode or watching Lindsay Lohan hit babies in a Maserati. That doesn’t make me laugh or even shake my head in shame. It just makes me want to kill everyone around me (and then myself) out of bitterness and spite and the maddening realization that while I spend the next 10 years underemployed and paying down a mountain of student loan debt, these girls will be squandering whatever’s left of their fortunes on tanning salon memberships and cocaine. (Also upsetting? Reading about how Cyndi Lauper once sued her landlord at the Apthorp to roll back her rent from $3,250 to $508. Look, I know nobody likes or deserves to get ripped off, but you’re fucking Cyndi Lauper, you bitch. Those units now sell for $54,000 a month, which is probably still less you spend on make-up and peroxide in a given week, anyway.)

I know, it’s my own fault for going to an expensive school to study the very lucrative field of — guffaw! — journalism. What a joke! I should have studied economics! Or transferred to Stern and sold my soul to some Wall Street investment firm for a six-figure entry-level salary and 80-hour work week. Because you know what? I really wouldn’t mind slaving away at some mind-numbing job I hate if it means coming home to my own apartment, with a bedroom that’s actually large enough open the door into and still accommodate furniture. Like a bed.

“But it’s New York! The capital of the world! Everything is here!”

Fuck that.

Yeah, New York has great restaurants, and entertainment, and shopping, and that means jack shit when you’re spend each night working some miserable restaurant job feeding barbecue to fat, entitled Madison Avenue jerkoffs (i.e., sophomore year when I worked the take-out counter at Blue Smoke) or holding together your last pair of Converse with strips of cardboard and tape because rent and Sallie Mae gobbled up your whole paycheck and you can’t spare $60 for new shoes (i.e., now).

And when 90% of your time is split between mooching off the free Wi-Fi at Starbucks for an excuse to escape your windowless room, treating the local Barnes & Noble like your personal library, killing time by sneaking into movies at the local AMC  — surprise! You can do this, and more, at pretty much any shopping mall in the country. Also, that Barnes & Noble is being replaced with a Century 21. And at this rate, Danny Meyer will be running a Shake Shack in every major city across the globe by 2012, anyway. New York: -10 points.

I don’t even know anyone who’s come to New York on their own to seek their fame or fortune and actually succeeded, either. Do you? Don’t most people just get hitched, or have kids, and realize, “Fuck, this place sucks,” and move away? Or get better job offers somewhere else? Or get stuck in some other job or career they never planned for or wanted and maybe don’t even like? What are the rest of us single, socially maladaptive people who can’t split the rent on a one bedroom with someone else’s income supposed to do?

My roommate, for instance — whom I’m subletting my room from — is in her early 30s. If I was in my early 30s, living in a 9′ x 9′ room, and still had to sublet my extra bedroom and converted living room to pay the rent I would fucking kill myself. Likewise if I spent seven years freelancing and eating “soup” made from hot water, crushed up multivitamins, and garlic salt, I’m fairly sure that I would not look back on those experiences as points of pride or examples of my resilience or determination or perseverance. I admire people who can stick it out like that, I really do, but I also wonder (and am asking myself now): “Jesus Christ, that’s no way to live. What are you thinking?”

They (and by “they,” I mean Frank Sinatra, so if you feel a cliché coming on… you’re right!) say if you can make it in New York, you can make it anywhere. That’s probably true, but it’s a pretty retarded barometer to go by because nobody, realistically, can “make it” in New York (unless your idea of “making it” is sharing a fifth-floor walk-up with three roommates in Bushwick) when the lunatics here expect people to make 70 times their monthly rent just to qualify for a roof (for non-New Yorkers, that means an annual salary of roughly $98,000 for a lower-end studio in Manhattan).

I mean, God, we can’t all be Snooki.

ETA: While this is obviously and unapologetically an exercise in whiney self-indulgence, I am actually genuinely curious: Anyone who’s lived in New York probably knows it can be a backbreaking (and soul-crushing) struggle just to scrape by. So I ask you, fellow New Yorkers, what makes it so worthwhile?

[Pic via Nick Dewar]

Sincerest apologies for the delay in (finally) posting photos from Tokyo, but it’s been a hectic month and I kept unconsciously typing “Expedia.com” into my browser each time I flipped through them. I did talk about my visit to Union Square Tokyo a while back, so you can find all that good stuff there. The weather was rather poor while we were in Tokyo — it was usually either raining or overcast, and our plans to double-back at the end of the trip were nixed — so I have pithy few photographs of this extraordinary city. I guess (Oh well, guess I’ll have to go back!)

The Imperial Palace

First stop, because we were stupid and didn’t bother to read the guidebooks I spent a ton of money around and would struggle to lug around for the next four weeks, was “Tokyo Station.”

Essentially, it’s like getting off the 4 train at Wall Street. While Tokyo Station is basically the city’s central station, the Marunouchi district is mostly a financial/business district on the eastern side of the Imperial Palace. The western side of the palace is basically the seat of the country’s government, and home to the National Diet Building, Prime Minister’s Residence, and Supreme Court.

Basically the Japanese Pennsylvania Avenue.

The Imperial Palace itself — where, yes, the emperor and the Imperial Family live — is surrounded by several gardens and a moat. A fucking moat.

It was raining when we went, of course. I did see a swan in the moat (A fucking swan. In the fucking moat.), which was pretty cool.

The picture here shows part of the moat, and some of the surrounding high-rises.

Not the best shot (or lighting), but this is the “double-bridge” that leads to the palace’s main gat over the moats. I don’t think you can see it here, but there’s a guard tower behind it. The Imperial Family’s private residence is completely obscured from view from the palace grounds, and parts of the Imperial Regalia of Japan are said to be kept here.

Another shot from outside the East Garden. Gotta love those Japanese landscapers.

Shinjuku

Next stop was Shinjuku, a major entertainment and shopping district in western Tokyo. Department stores are big business in Japan, they’re often several stories tall (You think the 12-story Macy’s in Herald Square is a big deal? Each department store in Japan is basically one of those, and then some) and stock pretty much anything you can imagine (entire floors are dedicated to toys, electronics, women’s clothing, men’s clothing, children’s clothing, home furnishings, restaurants on the top floors, and food court-like departments in the basement levels).

Also a big thing in department stores are hospitality, customer service, and gift-wrapping. I mean, they have “elevator ladies” who announce floor numbers and open/close doors for you.

Anyway, we paid a visit to the Odakyu Department Store, just adjacent to the Shinjuku train station. I won’t bore you with photos of the merchandise, but here’s one that might be interesting:

You see, Japanese restaurants often have window displays that showcase their food. All of this food is plastic and fake, of course, and there’s an entire “kitchen district” in Tokyo dedicated to the sale of these things, but what’s amazing is that it’s almost always identical in appearance to the actual food the restaurant serves. By the time we arrived in Kyoto a week and a half later, I’d actually forgotten it was fake and had begun remarking, “Wow, that looks good” to the plastic food.

Around Shinjuku Station are tons of electronic stores, arcades, and fast food restaurants. Right behind it, in an alley tucked below the train tracks, are alleys of izakaya (居酒屋) and noodle shops like this one. The sign here says it serves soba (そば) and udon (うどん).

Every karaoke parlor in Tokyo looks like this. No joke. This one was located in Kabukicho, a neighborhood in Shinjuku and, ostensibly, Tokyo’s red-light district. Lots of hostess bars, love hotels, a few porn stores, restaurants, nightclubs, arcades, and yakuza presence.

Yodobashi Camera in Shinjuku, A huge electronics store with pretty much everything you can hope to find; the Shinjuku store is several buildings next to each other, but the Akihabara store is more than eight stories tall and includes restaurants. Eat your heart out, Best Buy.

The Tsukiji Fish Market

The next day included a visit to the world-famous Tsukiji Fish Market, which is the largest wholesale fish and seafood market (and one of the largest wholesale food markets, period) in the world. You’ve probably seen it on the Food Network or something.

The market is divided into two sections — the “outer market,” which is a mixture of wholesale kitchen and restaurant supply stores and sushi shops; and the “inner market,” where all the fishy action takes place (including the famous early-morning tuna auction).

Navigating the market can be a little dangerous; workers zip through the narrow alleys on bright yellow, motorized tricycle cart/mini-forklift things that are simultaneously impressive in their skill and absolutely terrifying. It’s kind of like if you were walking against traffic, and the traffic was entirely made up of crazy, reckless cabbies.

But once you work your way into the center of the inner market, the only tricky thing is to not slip on the wet, cobblestone walkways that separate the fish vendors’ booths. Bring your wellingtons (everyone here is wearing them), and watch out for the giant buckets of water and fish guts. Then when you’re done marveling at the wildlife, head over to the Daiwa Sushi in the outer market to try some yourself.

Okay, here’s the deal on sushi at the fish market:

It ain’t cheap. Omakase, or “the chef’s choice,” will run you about ¥3500. That’s roughly $35-40, depending on the exchange rate, and while you may regularly spend that much “on sushi” in the States, you’re not getting the Deluxe Sashimi and Vegetable Tempura Combo here. What you get are roughly eight pieces of sushi, plus a bowl of miso soup (with little mussels in it! how awesome is that!?), but it’s the best fucking sushi of your life, so suck it up and open your wallet. Besides, this is Japan — tax is included and you don’t tip.

It ain’t quick. My timing was lucky, but try to avoid showing up at peak hours because there will be a wait. You thinking standing in line for Shake Shack is bad? Seating at these sushi stands is limited (roughly ten seats at a sushi bar, some of them have separate tables), and the crowd can quickly make waiting for a stool a two-hour ordeal. I showed up at 11:30 in sweltering heat and had to wait maybe 40 minutes, but everything I’ve read about the place says that’s an anomaly. Bring a book.

It ain’t comfortable. Like I said, seating is limited. So is elbow room. The reason I don’t have any photos of the actual food is because the place is too cramped (and I’m too clumsy) to take a good picture without making a fool of myself (and risking offending the patrons and chefs).

Wait, so why bother? Oh, yeah. It’ll be the best sushi of your life. This is it, folks. Best sushi place in Tokyo. Maybe in Japan. Maybe in the world. For its quality, the price of this meal is actually quite a steal, and while dropping ¥8000 at a more upscale restaurant might get you the same quality fish with a more relaxed dining experience, save that shit for Kyoto. This sensory overload is Tokyo at its finest — loud, fast-paced, cramped, and delicious.

Shiodome

Just northwest of Tsukiji is Shiodome. There’s not much to see here, it’s mostly businesses and skyscrapers, although you can also catch a glimpse of the Tokyo Monorail, the Rainbow Bridge, and Odaiba. There’s also, yes, a Pokémon Center store.

Come on, how cute is that?

Shiba, Azabu-Juban, and Roppongi

Shiba, Azabu-Juban, and Roppongi are neighborhoods that are all located within the Minato ward of Tokyo. (Shiodome is, too, technically, but you know: whatevs.) Shiba is particularly known for its eponymous park, Shiba-koen, the Zojo-ji Buddhist temple, and Tokyo’s most recognizable icon: Tokyo Tower.

These jizo statues are part of a Japanese ceremony called mizuko kuyo (水子供養), or “fetus memorial service.” It’s a Buddhist ceremony for those who have had miscarriages, stillbirths, or abortions, and are supposedly done for “parental grief, desire to comfort the soul of the fetus, or even fear of retribution from the vengeful spirit.” The Zojo-ji temple in Shiba has a yard that features hundreds of these jizo statutes, dressed in little red bonnets, bibs, and adorned with pinwheels.

Just behind the Zojo-ji temple is Shiba Park and Tokyo Tower. Built in 1958, Tokyo Tower is both taller and lighter than its French inspiration. It is still the tallest self-supporting steel structure in the world and was the tallest artificial structure in Japan until this past March.

I actually don’t have as many photos of the tower as I’d like, mainly because I was, you know, in it at the time. It’s most spectacular at night, when floodlights illuminate the tower either orange or white (and occasionally other coloring schemes for special occasions), but I never happened to be within photographing range at night, so… boo.

Anyway, visiting the tower is well worth it. ¥820 will get you access to the 145 m-high Main Observatory, while ¥1420 gets you to the 250 m-high Special Observatory. Both observatories feature a 360-degree panoramic view, and the Main Observatory includes a gift shop, mini Shinto shrine, and “lookdown windows” like the one pictured at the beginning of this post.

The basement also features an arcade, a few restaurants, and a second gift shop that has an entire section dedicated to Michael Jackson memorabilia.

The tower itself was originally meant to support an antenna for television broadcasting, but radio antennas were also installed in 1961.

Unfortunately, Tokyo Tower isn’t tall enough to support Japan’s planned switch from analog to digital broadcasting, so its TV duties will be taken over by the new Tokyo Sky Tree (which, at 634 meters tall, will also oust Tokyo Tower as Japan’s tallest structure).

Just west of Tokyo Tower are the Azabu-juban and Roppongi neighborhoods, which together form a bustling upper middle class community that includes several boutique stores, restaurants, shopping complexes, nightlife, and a large expatriate community.

Perhaps the two largest draws here (at least during the daytime, certainly) are the shopping centers, Roppongi Hills and Tokyo Midtown.

The 27-acre Roppongi Hills cost $4 billion to construct and opened in 2003. The integrated mega-complex features a movie theater, outdoor auditorium, shopping mall, museum, the Tokyo Grand Hyatt, TV studio, parks, and apartment/condominium complexes. Here are some pictures!

Not too far away (like, down the block) is Tokyo Midtown, another mixed-use development that features several upscale retail stores, a park, restaurants (including Union Square Tokyo), the Tokyo Ritz-Carlton, and Midtown Tower (Tokyo’s tallest building). This one only cost $3 billion and opened in 2007. Other commercial tenants include Fujifilm, Yahoo! Japan, Cisco Japan, UNIQLO, and Konami.

That’s a water fountain.

I’m sorry to report that I didn’t get to visit Yokohama or Tokyo Disneyland, and my visits to Shibuya, Harajuku, and  Odaiba were marred by rain, however, which meant less photography (and I forgot to bring my camera when I visited Ginza and Akihabara, whoops).

But in the meantime, I’ll close out this post with this image. It isn’t mine (props to Flickr user esmuz), but it’s a sight I miss already and sure would like to see again soon:

So to backtrack just a bit, let’s talk about Kyoto. Kyoto was actually our “home base” of sorts after we left Mt. Fuji (and before Hiroshima). We spent a few days exploring Kyoto, Japan’s former capital, and all of our day trips to Nara, Osaka, and Kobe were actually done from here.

One of the first impressions you get from Kyoto is that it’s certainly calmer and more laid-back than Tokyo. The buildings don’t rise as high; there are fewer hordes of men in business suits; and the city’s many shrines, Buddhist temples, and kimono-clad women make it easy to see why Kyoto’s developed the reputation as the center of traditional Japanese culture.

We first arrived in Kyoto after out day-long trek through the Japanese Alps. Crossing through the mountains left us in Toyama (a major city on Japan’s western coast), where we hopped onto a JR train that took us through the countryside, past Lake Biwa (Japan’s largest lake!), and into Kyoto Station

Our hostel was just around the corner from the station, which made it our de facto hang-out spot for a while (mostly thanks to the tasty — and cheap — ramen in the station’s tenth floor, which is filled with just ramen restaurants). The station, in addition to serving Kyoto’s JR lines, highway buses, and municipal subway and bus lines, is also one of the city’s major shopping, dining, and entertainment complex (there’s a department store, shopping mall, hotel, movie theater, and several restaurants).

But the most striking thing about Kyoto Station (which is the second-largest train station in Japan, apparently) is its design, which reminded me more of a small airport than a train station.

Via Wikipedia:

The current Kyōto Station opened in 1997, commemorating Kyoto’s 1,200th anniversary. It is 70 meters high and 470 meters from east to west, with a total floor area of 238,000 square meters. Architecturally, it exhibits many characteristics of futurism, with a slightly irregular cubic facade of plate glass over a steel frame. The architect was Hiroshi Hara.

Kyoto, one of the least modern cities in Japan by virtue of its many cultural heritage sites, was largely reluctant to accept such an ambitious structure in the mid-1990s: The station’s completion began a wave of new high-rise developments in the city that culminated with the 20-story Kyocera Building. For this, there are opinions criticizing the station design for taking part in breaking down the traditional cityscape.

On our first day in Kyoto, we set out to explore some of the city’s many famous temples and shrines. Our first stop was the Ginkaku-ji (銀閣寺), or the “Silver Pavillion.”

Originally built in 1482, the Ginkaku-ji was commissioned by a Japanese shogun named Ashikaga Yoshimasa to serve as his retirement villa. The design was meant to emulate his grandfather’s Kinkaku-ji (the “Golden Pavillion” located in western Kyoto), and he had originally planned to cover the temple’s exterior in silver foil (the Kinkaku-ji temple is similarly covered in gold foil).

Delayed construction and Yoshimasa’s death meant the silver foil plans never came to fruition and the temple eventually became a Zen Buddhist temple (Yoshimasa himself had eventually become a Zen Buddhist monk).

The walkway to the temple’s main entrance.

The temple building, originally meant to be covered in silver foil, but, sadly, not.

After checking out the Ginkaku-ji, our next stop was the Kyoto International Manga Museum (京都国際マンガミュージアム). The museum is a public-private partnership between Kyoto Seika University and the city government. It opened in 2006 and has a collection of over 200,000 items, including art galleries, a massive collection/library of manga, and a reserach department. Photography isn’t allowed (due to copyright restrictions on the manga in the museum), but I assure you it’s well worth the visit if you’re interested in manga. The museum hosts manga art demonstrations and classes, a massive collection of manga that lines the walls on three floors, and an informative exhibit on the history of manga.

The next day, we visited the Ginkaku-ji’s twin temple, the Kinkaku-ji (金閣寺) or “Golden Pavillion.”

This temple was built in 1397, also to serve as a retirement villa. It’s been burned down several times (twice during the Onin War in the 1400s and once more in 1950), and the current structure was built in 1955. The building has seen a great deal of restoration work on its lacquer coating, the gold-leaf coating, interior, artwork, and roof.

One of the temple’s most distinctive features is the different style of architecture on each of the temple’s three stories. The top two are covered in gold leaf; the top floor is built in a traditional Chinese style, the iddle floor in a “warrior aristocrats” style, and the ground floor in an imperial residential style.

Surrounding the temple is the “Mirror Pond,” and a walkway through the temple’s gardens. At the end of the walkway, near the temple’s exit, are some stands where visitors can buy fortunes and ema (絵馬), or “prayer plaques.” Here’s a photo of some ema hung at the Kinkaku-ji; worshippers write their prayers on these plaques and hang them near the temple for the gods to receive.

After the Kinkaku-ji, we headed south to Arashiyama (嵐山), a neighborhood in Kyoto’s western outskirts near the Oi River and home to the city’s Iwatayama Monkey Park, Sagano bamboo forest, and other attractions.

The Iwateyama Monkey Park, found on the slopes of Mt. Arashiyama, is home to more than 170 wild Japanese macaque. Although the monkeys are wild (and there are signs along the trail that warn visitors from antagonizing or making eye contact with the monkeys), they are rather accustomed to humans, and there is a spot in the park where visitors can buy peanuts and apple slices to feed the monkeys through a gate.

After the monkey park, we went through a walk in the Sagano bamboo forest:

The next few days were spent exploring Nara, Osaka, and Kobe. At some point we also visited the Kyoto Imperial Palace, Nishiki food market, and “Geisha district” of Gion, but I forgot my camera, so I don’t have pictures of that at the moment (we got caught in the rain that day, anyway, so I’m kind of glad I forgot my camera, but I digress).

On our final day in Kyoto we paid a visit to Fushimi Inari Taisha (伏見稲荷大社), an important shinto shrine in Kyoto that’s famous for, among other things, its “Thousand Torii Gates.”

The island is so named because of the Itsukushima Shrine, yet another UNESCO World Heritage Site and home of the famous floating Torii gates (which also happen to be commonly renowned as one of Japan’s three most beautiful views). In addition to the floating shrine (when the water rises during high tide, the massive vermillion Torii gates and the shrine appear to float on the water), the island is also famous for its maple trees, azuki jam-filled pastries, wild Sika deer, oysters, religious significance, and as a luxury ryokan destination.

Miyajima is a mountainous island and sparsely populated, so most of the action is focused in the small town surrounding the shrine and ferry terminal. Among the souvenir shops are restaurants, ice cream stands, and street vendors selling the local specialty — grilled oysters:

Miyajima is a popular place for day visitors, but most of the tourists are aboard the final ferries and gone from the island by nightfall. But ryokan (traditional Japanese inns) are big business here, especially the modern, luxury kind. Determined to enjoy the full Japanese cultural experience, I decided early on I’d treat myself to a night in one, and Miyajima seemed like the perfect place to do it. At ¥15,000 per night, it was certainly an expensive experience, but the pricetag included tax, dinner, breakfast, and unlimited hot spring access, which I figured made it a steal, right?

Anyway, I made my reservation once we arrived on the island. During check-in, the concierge asks you to select a time for dinner. If you’re there early enough, you can opt to have dinner served in your room; I wasn’t, so I signed up for an 8:00 p.m. dinner in the main dining room and left to further explore the island and watch the sunset over the Torii before returning for my kaiseki (懐石): a traditional, multi-course Japanese dinner.

Kaiseki is much like the Japanese equivalent of Western haute cuisine; a complex and formal dining experience that places heavy emphasis on aesthetics and presentation; the balance of colors, textures, and flavors; and the use of only fresh, seasonal ingredients.

Similar to an amuse-bouch, the first course is the sakizuke (先付) appetizer. In this case, it includes a small prawn, radish, pickled vegetables, and a glass of wine.

The futamono (蓋物) course: vegetable and prawn soup.

The third course was mukouzuke (向付), a seasonal sashimi dish.

Drawing from the seasonal theme, the fourth course was a variation of Miyajima’s local specialty, oysters. In this case, baked with cheese and butter.

A shiizakana (強肴) dish featuring tofu, mushrooms, and sliced beef, served with ponzu and goma dipping sauces.

The yakimono (焼物) course: broiled fish.

A tome-wan (止椀) course: a wild rice dish with pickled vegetables and miso soup. If you’re wondering, this was followed by the mizumono (水物), or dessert, course: in this case, pieces of watermelon and kiwi.

In addition to kaiseki, a stay in a ryokan often includes a traditional Japanese breakfast, too. I came downstairs the next morning to find this waiting for me:

Japanese breakfasts frequently include rice, seafood, pickled foods, miso soup, raw or softboiled eggs, and green tea. Below we have a few fermented vegetables, a couple of pieces of sashimi, Japanese-style potato salad, a soft-boiled egg, and a bowl of miso soup. Not pictured, but also present, was some grilled fish, a bowl of rice, and green tea.

After breakfast, we made our way to the ferry terminal to hop aboard a JR Ferry. We bade farewell to Miyajima by 11 a.m. and began our trek out of Japan’s main island, Honshu, and onward to our next destination: the volcanic and subtropical regions of Kyushu.

One thing that bothered me during my first two weeks in Japan was how much writing — or lack thereof, rather — I was doing. Especially compared to my travel companions, both of whom seemed to fill pages and pages of their notebooks with thoughts and introspection during our long train rides through the Japanese countryside. Granted, I was probably less stressed than my cohorts, and I was so distracted by the sights around us that I didn’t feel like I had much time for introspection or soul-searching, but still it was troubling to seem so unaffected.

Until we reached Hiroshima, anyway.

Hiroshima, of course, is famous for its dubious distinction as the site where U.S. Air Force dropped the world’s first atomic bomb. The surprise attack devastated the city, caused immeasurable damage, and killed somewhere between 90,000 and 170,000 civilians. Many of the victims died from burns, debris, dehydration, and — in the following months and even years — radiation sickness.

In the post-WWII era, the city of Hiroshima recovered, and in 1949 it was declared a City of Peace by the Japanese parliament. The city has since been a center for promoting international peace and the city government continues to advocate the abolition of nuclear weapons across the globe. Today, one of the city’s biggest draws is the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park, home of the A-Bomb Dome, the Children’s Peace Monument, the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, and the annual lantern ceremony.

The memorial museum is probably, by far, the highlight of the Peace Park — and it’s only ¥50! The entrance leads visitors to the East Wing, which includes a history of Hiroshima as a military city, a timeline of the development and dropping of the bomb, facts about Hiroshima citizens’ lives during World War II and Japan’s involvement in the war, a miniature model of Hiroshima City before and after the attack, a scaled-down replica of the A-Bomb Dome, and information about the current proliferation of nuclear weapons and efforts to abolish nuclear weapons.

But the museum’s West Wing is the most haunting — split into four exhibits, this Wing features artifacts (including clothes and personal effects, that belonged to bomb victims), a section that shows how heat from the nuclear explosion damaged city structures, a section that shows the after shock effects, and a section that details the health effects of radiation.

The artifacts exhibit is the most upsetting in the museum. In addition to the tattered and burned school uniforms, toys, wallets, and watches owned by bomb victims, it also featured a few items— like fingernails, skin, and locks of hair — to illustrate the victims’ suffering, as well as drawings and anecdotes from bomb survivors:

Nails and skin left by a junior high student

Donated by Sakae Teshima, courtesy of the A-bomb Material Preservation Society
600 m from the hypocenter, Nakajima-shinmachi

Noriaki Teshima was a first-year student at Second Hiroshima Prefectural Junior High School. He was exposed to the bomb at his building demolition work site. He suffered major burns over his entire body, tot eh extent that his skin was dangling in tatters. With the help of a friend he returned home. Suffering from terrible thirst, he is aid to have tried to suck the pus from his raw, nail-less fingers. He died in agony on August 7. His mother kept his fingernails and part of his skin to show his father, who had not returned from the war.

Student Uniform

Donated by Shigeharu Fukuoka

This is the remains of the uniform worn by Hajime Fukuoka (then 14), a second-year student at Municipal Junior High School. His mother received notice from several different locations to come and receive his ashes. She went to each place, but this uniform, later delivered by the father of one of his classmates, is the only certain item of his remains.

Even now I am still sorry

August 6 through August 10, 1945
Setsuo Masuda (40 at the time of the bombing, 70 when he drew this picture)

On the 8th, the young lady was crying politely , “Mr. Soldier, please give me some water.” On the 9th, her expression had changed to, “Hey, soldier, give me water.” On the 10th, she was just calling brokenly for water (repeatedly, especially at midnight). A doctor had ordered us not to give burn patients any water because it would hasten their death. It’s been 30 years from that day, and even now I am still sorry for not having given her even a glass of water. I have regretted it ever since.

A large chunk of the artifact section focuses on Sadako Sasaki (佐々木 禎子), a girl who was two years old when the bomb fell on Hiroshima. Eight years later, at the age of 10, she was diagnosed with leukemia — which her mother called “atom bomb disease” — and told she had only a year to live. Inspired by a Japanese legend that says anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish, Sadako spent the rest of her life diligently folding paper cranes (some were so tiny she had to use a sewing needle to make them).

Sadako died in October 1955 and after her death, her friends and classmates raised funds to build a memorial for Sadako and other child victims of the A-bomb. In 1958, a statue of Sadako holding a golden crane was placed in the Peace Memorial Park and people from all over the world contninue to send and dedicate their origami cranes to the Sadako memorial.

A plaque at the foot of Sadako’s statue reads:

“This is our cry. This is our prayer. Peace on Earth.”

So, clearly I’m a little behind on the updates, but yes, I am still alive. We left Kyoto on June 4th and have been traveling pretty much nonstop since (with extremely limited Internet access — in fact, I don’t even have Internet access now; I’m writing this from a ferry back to Kagoshima from Yakushima so I can post it whenever I finally do get online).

In any case, it’s now been just over a week since we left Kyoto, so I’ll try to do a quick recap to bring us up to speed. In the meantime, please forgive the cheesy photo of my iPod against a window taken from my seat on a train. Unless you work for Apple’s marketing division and are hiring, in which case: please let me know where to forward my resumé.

Where Were the Naruto Whirls?

We left Kyoto on June 4th — our next major stop was Hiroshima, but we were taking a detour through Shikoku along the way — we were out of the hostel by 8 a.m., grabbed some breakfast at the Zen Cafe restaurant next-door, and then headed over to Kyoto Station to take the subway up to the Hyanku Railway terminal and ride the train to Umeda Station in Osaka (where we transferred to yet another train that would drop us off in Kobe).

We arrived in Kobe by around 10:30 a.m. or so, and bought a pair of tickets for the JR highway bus that would take us across the Akashi-Kaikyo Bridge, over Awaji Island, and drop us off on the northern coast of Naruto on Shikoku.

Generally speaking, there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot to do in Shikoku, although the bus ride was our sighting of real ocean and harbor  villages. But its main attraction — for me, at least — are the Naruto Whirlpools. A tidal phenomenon caused by the opposing currents that swim into each other in the Naruto Strait, these whirlpools — at their peak — can reach widths of up to 20 meters. Our timing wasn’t quite right, so the whirlpools we saw weren’t the most dramatic, but the tidal action was nonetheless pretty cool:

After the whirlpools, we took a local bus to the JR Station in Naruto and hopped on the JR towards Hiroshima. The lengthy trip took us through Tokushima, where we transferred to another JR line that took us out of Shikoku, across the Seto Inland Sea, and to Okayama, where we made yet another transfer towards Hiroshima — but this time on a Nozomi shinkansen (bullet train).

All Aboard the Bullet Train to Hiroshima

The Nozomi Shinkansen (のぞみ新幹線) is Japan’s fastest train service; these super-express trains stop only at Japan’s largest train stations and reach a head-spinning speed of 300 km/h (186 mph). They’re not only super speedy, but they’re also super swank (and, sadly, not covered by the JR Rail Pass — but we weren’t using one anyway, and as luck would have it, taking the Nozomi was both the fastest and most economical way to get from Naruto to Hiroshima! (We’d take another one on our way to Kyushu later, between Hiroshima and Hakata, but since first impressions are what count, I’ll just cover all the “Wow, the bullet train is fucking badass!” ground right here.)

The Nozomi is by far the cleanest, most modern, and luxurious train — at least aesthetically — that I’d seen in Japan so far. The train announcements, for instance, are done in Japanese and English, and the lady who does them in English even sounds appropriately pretentious. And British, but I guess that’s sort of the same thing. This particular model had 16 cars, including First Class “green cars,” reserved and non-reserved seats, a smoking room, toilets, and even vending machines in the sixth car.

The train is even equipped with AC power ports and Wi-Fi (provided by Japan’s mobile phone carriers, which meant it was locked and useless to me, since I’m not a Japanese cell phone subscriber, but still — cool!)

And, although pretty standard on most of the major JR lines, the Nozomi also features a snack and drink car (hence the tray tables).

The Most Delicious ‘Pancake’ You Ever Had

Our train finally pulled into Hiroshima Station at around 8:30 p.m., and after checking in at our hostel, we wandered into town for some food. It also happened to be the beginning of Hiroshima’s annual Tokasan festival, which celebrates the beginning of summer, so there were plenty of street vendors, food stands, and people in the streets wearing their yukata. We made our way to the main entertainment district and tracked down the local specialty for dinner — Hiroshima-style okinomiyaki (お好み焼き). Basically a savoury pancake (apparently some people describe it as “Japanese pizza?”), okinomiyaki derives its name from “okonomi” — meaning “what you want.” “Yaki,” of course, means grilled, and the idea is you basically choose from an assortment of toppings that are then cooked on a teppan grill, sort of like an omelette.

We didn’t try any okinomiyaki in Osaka — we were too busy with the fugu and takoyaki — so I made it a point to try out the Hiroshima version. Unlike Osaka’s, which mixes the ingredients together, Hiroshima okinomiyaki has the toppings layered on top of each other. You can usually pick whatever toppings you want, and many places have specials with certain toppings already in them, but the popular ones include okonomiyaki sauce, seaweed flakes, dried fish flakes, mayonnaise, ginger, cabbage, pork, squid, octopus, shrimp, cheese, noodles (soba or udon), egg, scallions, and cheese.

How it all begins; the first step is apparently to simply ladle the batter onto the hot grill — just like a pancake!

The batter then gets a quick seasoning, and it’s topped with shredded cabbage.

Once the cabbage has wilted down, the other toppings start going on. Huge slices of pork, squid, octopus, shrimp, cheese, some noodles (your choice of udon or soba), cheese, corn, and pretty much anything you can think of is fair game.

The chef then fries an egg and skillfully flips the okonomiyaki onto it as it nears completion…

For a little color (and lots of flavor), the final steps include a heavy glaze of savory okonomiyaki sauce  (with a brush, natch) and a generous sprinkling of scallions and seaweed flakes.

The final product is a little messy but well worth it. If you’re sitting at a table, the chefs will slide your okonomiyaki onto an iron pan and a waitress or hostess will bring it to your table. If you can, though, I’d suggest sitting at the counter and watching the chefs work up close. And once you’re done watching your meal be prepared, the chefs will simply slide it across to your end of the teppan grill. They’ll give you a metal spatula to scrape the food off the grill and onto a plate where you can feel free to dig in with those eagerly poised chopsticks.

Anyway, after okonomiyaki we explored Hiroshima a little to check out the festival before heading back to the hostel. The next day we’d check out the Hiroshima Peace Park (and then Miyajima), but both were a… more somer and sobering experience than the festive energy that buzzed through Hiroshima on our first night. So I’ll get to those later.

So we’re getting a little out of order here — today is Day 16, it’s our last day in Kyoto (and the Kansai region); we actually arrived in Kyoto last Friday and have spent a full week here, split between four days in Kyoto three days set aside for day trips to Nara, Osaka, and Kobe. Tomorrow we’ll leave for Hiroshima (with a quick detour across the Akashi-Kaikyo Bridge and  through Shikoku to see the tidal whirlpools in the Naruto Strait), spend two days there, and begin our descent through Kyushu and towards Okinawa.

I’ve already written about Nara and Kobe, so I’ll do a quick recap of Osaka — including the aquarium, how I ate poisonous sushi, and Japan’s favorite street food — here and follow-up with a full Kyoto recap on the train tomorrow.

The plan was originally to spend two nights in Osaka, one in Kobe, and then jump across to Hiroshima, but it turned out to be easier to base ourselves in Kyoto and do both cities as day trips (and turn one “Osaka day” into a “Nara day”), so on Wednesday we stopped by the Bus Ticket Center outside Kyoto Station to pick up a Kansai Thru-Pass. This handy little pass — ¥5,000 for three days — gives you unfettered access to most of the Kansai region’s private railways (minus the JR lines) and the cities’ subway and bus systems. A great value if you want to explore the Kansai region and Kyoto’s neighboring cities.

We left for Osaka around 11 a.m. on Wednesday morning and pulled into Umeda Station at around 1:00 p.m.. Osaka happens to be the second-largest city in Japan, though having run through Tokyo already, it didn’t — at first glance — seem to offer anything particularly new.. The city is notable for a couple of things: the bayside city is supposedly a big foodie town, it’s home to Japan’s Universal Studios theme park, the skyline features some pretty cool/futuristic architecture, and the bay district houses one of the world’s largest aquariums (which, naturally, was the focal point of our trip).

So after grabbing some maps from the Tourist Information Center, we hopped onto the subway and made our way to the Tempozan Harbor Village. This bayside promenade features a number of stores and entertainment venues (mostly aimed at children), as well as a huge ferris wheel (¥700 gets you a ride on the ferris wheel to view the harbor and Osaka’s sprawling metropolis, but do it at night when it’s lit up to forecast the next day’s weather) and, of course, the Osaka Aquarium Kaiyukan (海遊館).

The aquarium is housed in an eight story, butterfly-shaped building containing 16 tanks. Each tank features habitats and marine life from a different region of the Pacific Ocean’s Ring of Fire, and a massive, central tank (it holds 5,4000 cubic meters of water) contains the aquarium’s prized attractions — huge manta rays and two massive whale sharks. The layout is particularly innovative — an escalator lifts visitors to the eighth floor, where a downward spiral of ramps guides you towards the ground floor. Many tanks span several stories, allowing you to observe the animals from different depths and perspectives.

Here are a few of the better snapshots I managed to grab; forgive the poor quality or lighting, it’s a little hard to take good photographs of moving animals when you’re hampered by an entry-level lens, dim lighting, and panes of acrylic glass that can measure up to six meters by five meters by 30 centimeters and weigh 10 tons.

Sea otters!

Isn’t this tiny crab adorable? Yeah, hold that thought.

Sea lion. Not dead, just lazy.

Fish!

More fish! Although mostly I just like the color contrast of this photograph.

A very large iguana.

Penguins!

A dolphin!

Great Barrier Reef tank.

Whale sharks! It’s kind of impossible to capture the scale of these things, so I won’t even try other than to say they’re fucking huge.

Remember those cute tiny crabs from earlier? Yeah.

The aquarium finishes off with a display of several different kinds of jellyfish, which I still think are a beautiful but very, very bizarre animal.

One of the animals I regret not getting photos of (I hadn’t charged my camera battery, stupidly, and it began to ran low) were the adorable finless porpoises. The aquarium houses two (it’s also the aquarium’s mascot), and while it’s not on the endangered species list (except in China), the finless porpoise is monitored closely for conservation.

After the aquarium, we made our way over to Dotonbori Street, the center of Osaka’s shopping and entertainment district where we were ready to try two of the city’s local specialties: takoyaki (たこ焼き) and fugu (フグ).

Fugu, as you may know, is the Japanese word for pufferfish (or blowfish). It’s a notorious Japanese delicacy because its liver, ovaries, and skin contain tetrodotoxin, a lethal neurotoxin that paralyzes the victim’s muscles while they stay conscious and die from asphyxiation. (If you’re interested, New York magazine’s restaurant critic, Adam Platt, wrote an excellent feature about fugu a couple years ago that’s worth a read.)

There are strict regulations over the preparation of fugu, and only specially licensed chefs can legally prepare, sell, or serve fugu. It can be notoriously expensive, and a full, eight-course fugu (it can be served as roe, sashimi, stew, salad, as a beverage, and pickled) meal can often cost more than $200 — kind of crazy for a fish that’s essentially flavorless. Rumor has it that some chefs leave just a tiny bit of the poison on the fish, enough to give a diner a tingling, numbing sensation (this rumor is probably a myth, or just psychological hysteria — I, for one, didn’t feel a thing).

We tried fugu at Zuboraya, a a popular fugu chain in Osaka that has more than a few outlets on Dotonbori alone. As I said, fugu can be prepared in several different ways — having read already that it’s essentially tasteless, we didn’t exactly feel like dropping any Benjamins on this dance with death, so we went the cheaper route and split an order of fugu sushi (we also ordered a small plate of fugu sashimi after the sushi failed to get our adrenaline going, but I was too lazy to pull out my camera and photograph it).

Of course, we chose to juxtapose this deadly delicacy with another one of Osaka’a specialties — takoyaki, or fried octopus dumplings. Takoyaki is a popular street food in Japan and is as quintessential as the New York hot dog. This tasty snack is cooked in a special, cast iron mold — diced or whole baby octopus are fried in batter and topped with things like okomiyaki sauce, ponzu, mayonnaise, seaweed, and dried fish shavings. Just one word of caution: don’t let their amazing smell trick you into shoving a whole one in your mouth right away. These things are tangy and chewy and delicious, but scaldingly hot. Still, they’re so good you might not be able to help yourself.

Note: If you care at all about our itinerary and timeline, we actually spent Saturday, Sunday, and Tuesday exploring Kyoto, Monday in Nara, Wednesday in Osaka, and Thursday in Kobe, so chronologically, the events in this post occurred before the earlier post about Kobe.

Ah, Kobe. The sixth-largest city in Japan and capital of the Hyogo Prefecture, Kobe is about 74 km southwest of Kyoto. The city is notable for a couple of reasons: mainly that it was one of the earliest Japanese cities to open for trade with the West after Japan came out of seclusion, the major damage it suffered during the 1995 Great Hanshin Earthquake, and perhaps most famously — its beef.

Kobe is mainly a harbor town, and the briefest stroll through its streets make its history of Western influence abundantly clear. Many older buildings have a distinctly Western architecture and style, the city apparently boasts quite an expat community, and it’s abundant with international fare (plenty of English, French, Italian, Chinese, and even Spanish restaurants abound). Most of this is anchored around the main Sannomiya train station, its main transportation hub and shopping/entertainment district. South of that you’ll find plenty of familiar upscale designer stores (off the top of my head, I remember spotting Louis Vuitton, Cole Haan, and Coach), and farther south you’ll hit the harbor, including Port Tower, the Kobe Maritime Museum, and the Harborland entertainment district (which includes arcades, shopping malls, department stores, a ferris wheel, and restaurants — including, oddly enough, and Old Spaghetti Factory?).

Sannomiya is where it’s at, though. Most of the restaurants and stores are centered there, and if you’ve come to Kobe looking for its famous steaks or cosmopolitan atmosphere, this — and the Kitano district north of the station — is what you wanna check out.

After wandering around Kobe a little and checking out its Chinatown (the only one in the Kansai region of Japan, apparently?), we bit the bullet and decided it was time to check out the city’s main attraction — the beef. Our guidebook recommended A-1 (what a cheeky name), a Japanese Kobe beef chain that maintains a couple of branches in the Sannomiya district (we saw about three within a few blocks of each other).

First, though, a briefer on Kobe beef: Prized for its flavor, texture, and fatty, marbled texture, Kobe beef refers to meat from a black cattle species called Wagyu (the species is not indigenous to Japan, it was introduced in the second century to help cultivate rice and eating it was prohibited for more tahn 200 years). In America, “Kobe beef” frequently actually means Kobe style beef; the cows raised in the States are actually a crossbreed between Wagyu and Angus cattle.

True Kobe beef, then, must be imported from Kobe, Japan, and the phrase is actually a registered trademark (similar to how authentic Cognac, Champagne, and Balsamic vinegar must come from their eponymous regions). Rumor has it that Kobe beef are fed beer and grain and massaged with sake daily, and true Kobe beef must meet seven specific criteria (it must be born in and raised in Hyogo Prefecture; it must come from a castrated cow; it must be processed at slaughterhouses in either Kobe, Nishinomiya, Sanda, Kakogawa, or Himeji; its marbling ratio must be a “level 6 or above;” it must have a “meat quality score of four or five;” and the gross weight of beef from one animal must be 470 kg or less).

As you can imagine, then, Kobe beef can be extremely expensive. A small filet ran me about $60, but you can easily spent $70, $80, and more than $100 on a Kobe beef dinner for one person. Its preparation is also quite versatile, and can be served as a steak, sukiyaki, shabu shabu, sashimi, sushi, and teppanyaki.

At A-1, they serve the Kobe beef teppanyaki style (which means, in this case, flame-cooked on an iron griddle). It’s served with onions, spinach, potatoes, and garlic, and a full dinner set is served with a small green salad topped with Thousand Island dressing, miso soup, a bowl of rice, and a glass of wine. I ordered mine a la carte and skipped the soup and wine.

The meal ran me about ¥6,000 (roughly $60 USD), but was absolutely worth it. The beef had a perfect sear but was still pink, tender, and barely warm in the center (as a good steak should be!). The teppanyaki sauce was flavorful and the vegetables had excellent texture, seasoning, and balance of flavors (and those caramalized onions — rawr!) I hadn’t had teppanyaki in years (or a good steak, for that matter, and I’d been craving one something fierce a few months ago), but this meal was not only an excellent value for its quality (and the associated bragging rights), but it was delicious and satisfying and reminded my why teppanyaki is such a great part of Japanese cuisine that I really need to eat more of.

After dinner, we wandered over to Molto Cuore, a pastry and coffee shop on Tor Road that serves an assortment of cakes and pastries (Kobe, apparently, is also renowned for its Western sweets offerings):

As you can see, this store offers a range of beautifully arranged desserts, including shortcakes, tarts, custards, and a wall of cookies, breads, and pastries. I ordered a blueberry custard tart and a coffee:

But it was delicious and I still had some coffee left, so I ordered a strawberry shortcake, too:

Both were served with a melon-flavored soft serve ice cream topped with a caramel sauce. They were both amazing, and a perfect chaser to the expensive — but absolutely worth every single penny yen — Kobe beef teppanyaki. Suck on that, Benihana.

In the meantime, we did take a little day trip today to Nara City, some 40 km south of Kyoto. Nara, in case you don’t know, was Japan’s capital before Kyoto was Japan’s capital (which was Japan’s capital before Tokyo became Japan’s capital) and is currently celebrating its 1,300th anniversary celebration.

The city is widely considered the birthplace of Japanese culture and features a lot of obvious Buddhist and Chinese influences (e.g., its many Buddhist temples) and is home to many of the country’s greatest cultural assets and national treasures. Among these are the purpose for our visit today — Nara Park’s wild sika deer and the Todai-ji, a Buddhist temple whose great hall is both the largest wooden building in the world and home to the world’s largest Buddha statue — the great, bronze Daibutsuden.

But first, the cute deer!

Over 1,200 wild sika deer (also known as spotted or Japanese deer) roam Nara Park — visitors can purchase deer crackers (鹿煎餅 shika-senbei) for ¥150 to feed the deer; they’re considered wild animals, but freely roam the park and temple grounds and are pretty friendly towards humans (many have even learned to bow their heads to ask for crackers).

The deer were even once considered divine messengers of Kasuga-jinja’s Shinto gods and killing one was a capital offense until 1637 (the last recorded date of that law’s enforcement). During World War II, their numbers dwindled to just 70, but conservation efforts and the extinction of wolves in Japan has allowed the deer population to boom, however, and Japan now boasts the largest native sika population int he world — more than hundreds of thousands.

Nara’s other major sight is, as I mentioned, the Eastern Great Temple (東大寺 Tōdai-ji). Its Great Buddha Hall (大仏殿 Daibutsuden) is the largest wooden building in the world and houses the world’s largest statue of the Buddha Vairocana, known in Japanese as Daibutsu (大仏). The temple is a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site and played a major role in the development of early Japanese Buddhism.

The Great Hall, amazingly, is only two-thirds the size of the original structure (the current building was completed in 1709 and measures 57 meters long by 50 meters wide). The original temple complex also contained two 100 meter-tall pagodas; a miniature model showing the original deisgn can be found within the Great Hall:

And also within the Great Hall, of course, is Daibatsu — at nearly 50 feet tall, the gargantuan Buddha statue’s scale is almost impossible to do justice in a photograph (even less so with my camera’s flimsy lens), but just to give you an idea, here’s a picture of the statute and a couple shots from the temple grounds:

We’re now on Day 11 of Japanese Adventure 2010. When we last checked in, we had just arrived at Lake Kawaguchi at the foot of Mt. Fuji. We were originally going to stay just a single night, but the lakeside resort town was so relaxing we opted for two.

Unfortunately, in the two full days we spent at Lake Kawaguchi, we had yet to get a clear glimpse of Mt. Fuji. Tuesday had been mild but a little cloudy and by midday Wednesday, the lake was caught in a quasi monsoon that thwarted our plans to Fuji-watch from the top of Mt. Tenjo (a small hill on the lake’s eastern shore that has excellent views of the mountain and  lake).

But Thursday morning ushered in some beautiful weather, so we got up early (or thought we did?) to ride up the ropeway that carries passengers to Mt. Tenjo’s summit.

So, naturally: photos!

This is the view from the ropeway. Yeah, that’s real.

Fuji-san. The peak was still slightly obscured by a cloud (boo!), but whatever — I’ll take what I can get.

Turns out we enjoyed the view a little too much, though.

On Thursday, we were supposed to leave Lake Kawaguchi and begin our trek through the Japanese Alps. The idea was to take a bus to Kofu City, hop on a JR train to Matsumoto, and transfer to a local train to a small village called Shinano-Omachi. From Shinano-Omachi, we’d begin our trip across the Tateyama-Kurobe Alpine Route, a six-hour journey through the Japanese Alps that involves a combination of buses, cable cars, trolleys, ropeways, and a walk across the Kurobe Dam before getting dropped off in Toyama City on the western coast of Japan (where we’d then hop on either an overnight bus or morning JR train to arrive in Kyoto by Friday).

If you’re not familiar with the Tateyama-Kurobe Alpine Route, take a look at this map below. The sightseeing route is a pretty astonishing engineering achievement and features eight different forms of transportation designed to preserve the mountain range’s natural beauty and connect the Kanto and Kansai regions through the Japanese Northern Alps:

Unfortunately, we loitered too long at Lake Kawaguchi and didn’t hit the road ’til noon. We arrived in Kofu by 2 p.m., but didn’t arrive in Shinano-Omachi until five or six. By then it was too late to start the alpine route and had no choice but to stay in Shinano-Omachi overnight.

The result was a very, very long Friday that involved a lot of traveling but, thankfully, some very worthwhile sights.

The first leg of the alpine route is on a local bus that takes you from the Shinano-Omachi train station (which we caught at 7:10 a.m.) to Ogisawa station. From there, you hop aboard a trolley bus that tunnels through a mountain to the east side of the Kurobe Dam.

Japan’s largest dam, the Kurobe Dam ((黒部ダム) — built in 1963 — generates electricity for the Kansai region. This feat of engineering is 610 feet high, holds 260 million cubic yards of water, and cost ¥51.3 billion to construct. Its reservoir is the breathtaking Lake Kurobe, which you can see a bit of in this next picture, but neither photos nor words do the beauty of this lake justice. I’ve never seen a body of water with such an astonishing shade of solid jade in my life.

After walking across the dam, a second cable car carries tourists to Kurobe Plateau, where you board the Tateyama Ropeway, which lifts passengers to Daikanbo Peak. Here, yet another trolly bus carries you in a tunnel that burrows through Mt. Tateyama to Murodo Station on the mountain’s western side.

If the dam didn’t impress you, the Murodo Plateau is the highlight of the trip. A mere 500 meters from the summit of Japan’s second-tallest mountain, the snow-covered peak, nestled above the clouds, has some surreal and astonishing views of the neighboring mountain range.

Murodo is also where you begin the descent — a highlands bus carries passengers from Murodo down the mountain’s winding roads and through this 20-meter high snow corridor to Bijyo-daira, where you board another cable car that deposits you at the mountain’s western foot — Tateyama Station.

From there, we jumped onto a local train and arrived in Toyama City by around 2 p.m. After pausing a bit to catch our breath and get some snacks (like “prawn and egg sandwiches”), we caught a 3:22 p.m. JR West train that carried us on a scenic three-hour journey through the Kansai region and southwest to Kyoto. We rolled into Kyoto Station at around 6:15 p.m., hungry, exhausted, and just barely on schedule, but — as far as I’m concerned — pretty pleased with the day’s work.