Japan!!!

*Here is the long-awaited Japan entry. We are preparing for our return into the United States, filling out customs forms and loosing two more hours before our arrival. Hope you enjoy our journals; they still don’t seem complete but should suffice. Several of the photos at the bottom are of Betty and Bob, one from Thanksgiving dinner.

November 17, 2005
A Rough Day at Sea

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Today has been the roughest day at sea since the beginning of the voyage. It is shocking to see the waves splashing our window on the fourth deck and even more surprising the swaying of the ship from port to starboard. I literally expect the ship to just stay on its side, but then it rights itself and the rocking continues. Because of the almost sheer impossibility of walking upright Global Studies was broadcast to all of the rooms, yet we made it to the Union in advance and I have never seen it so empty. Though I imagine it would have been very nice to be sitting in my cozy bed during class. This proved to be the theme of the day as each course we attended had about seven students in attendance.

Megan writes, “Our departure from China was marked largely with the Voices announcement to secure all belongings in the cabins, including the television. The question still remains however, when only permitted to use magnets on the wall, how do you fasten a swiveling screen that soon enough danced around in circles, twirling to the rhythm of the waves. The result, a useless set whose white cord remains unplugged from the circuit. While the seas were not as brutal as expected, chiefly owing to the Captain and crew maneuvering the craft behind islands on our trek to Japan, we were graced with three-four hour intervals of crashing and two-three hour lulls of subdued undulations.”

Luckily I have felt no ill effects from the intensity and turmoil transpiring on the other side of the porthole. Though Megan is still recovering from her cold and I seem to be battling the same, I guess we do share everything. Hopefully my voice will be recovered enough tomorrow for my presentation in Travelers’ Journals. Tonight is our Bering Sea Social in the Staff/Faculty Lounge but we are both so exhausted and have decided to hit the sack early in hopes that it will help whatever ails us. It is disappointing that we have waited all semester for this social only to be absent, but it really is more like a mini pub night for our sea and I do not think that is what I had in mind. I am amazed at the loss of energy and spunk that accompanied our first month and a half of the voyage. Things are just moving so fast and I cannot believe that in just a few short weeks that we will be leaving this ship to return home.

Megan writes, “With over twelve foot waves, only those brave enough to tackle the foamy surf, that is to say, relatively few, frequented classes. Global Studies for the first time was broadcast over the entire shipboard community, many students opting for cabins, and undoubtedly, a siesta or two. Heather and I sat in the Union, laptops poised on the small glass tables for intense note taking. Professor Murphy grasped the edge of the podium and swallowed deeply each time a large swell hurled the ship into a dive.

There were more or less five people in our classes, the other students who bring laptops for games and emails absent. And for once, the silence of keyboards was a welcome sound; or rather the lack of noise – as Professor Smyth played Chinese folk music from his computer to the slideshow of beautiful images from his stay in the region.”

November 18, 2005
Another Rough Day at Sea

It is just as rough as yesterday, but Captain Jeremy is hopping behind islands and playing a game of hide and seek with the currents to alleviate some of the discomfort felt by most of the passengers. Still I have suffered no motion sickness. Things are sliding around the cabin and even the television has managed to swivel three hundred sixty degrees and yank out the connection. The most irritating aspect is trying to walk without banging into something or someone or sitting and feeling at once that you are being pulled by the under pits out of the chair and then pressed forcefully back into the cushion. This is especially significant at night when I lie in bed.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

The following day the ocean continued to engulf the MV Explorer, sending students back to their cabins for sleep. I’m sure Heather found comfort in the numerous empty seats in Travelers’ Journals during her presentation. Another student giving a lecture on the same novel, Fallen Leaves, refuted everything Heather had substantiated with evidence and support. I found her entire management of the piece was clouded with vagaries and ambiguities, as she had clearly not read the novel, merely printing out a list of Chinese superstitions and claiming she had interviewed numerous locals for these “perfectly arranged” tidbits.

Heather writes, “I gave my presentation today, though my voice was raspy, and I was forced to grab onto the podium on several occasions. I worked it out with Megan and Betty that if I were to tumble over they were to fall from their seats and say, “Wow! Did you feel that?”

Plenty of students are feeling the pressure of our arrival in Japan; manifest in the crowds at the computer lab frantically finishing and printing papers, apparently having remained awake the entire night to finish the task. I cannot imagine such a chore as researching, writing, and editing within twenty-four hours of class.

Heather writes, “The auction was tonight, though Megan and I did not attend, once again in bed early. We did see some of the auction on the television, and it is so shocking how much people spend. It makes me wonder who is paying for these items. You would think that after nearly seventy-five days that the cash flow would be significantly decreased.”

Tonight was the Auction to raise money for charity and I cannot help but be amazed at the prices the items sold; hundreds and hundreds spent on choosing the menu in the dining hall for the day, dinner with Dean Beverly, and steering the ship. At this point in the voyage it seems like everyone is running low on cash, but with the display this evening I imagine many will be digging into accounts at home.

November 19, 2005
Ceremony at Sea

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

As today is a no class day we spent much of our time finalizing some papers due after Japan and studying for that ever-approaching Global Studies final exam. Dean John and his wife Dixie held a ceremony in memory of one of their dear friends. On the Deck 4 fantail we gathered, a small group of faculty, staff, and students who had lost friends and family in the last few months. It began with the distribution of the most beautiful white roses and the singing of Amazing Grace. Dean John went to the rail, opened a blue plastic urn and out poured the ashes effortlessly. It was simply moving, the ashes almost soaring in the draft of the ship before dispersing completely. Like sparkling confetti it rained down into the surge of the deep. Then Dixie tossed a bouquet of white roses, at least a dozen, over the rail. Before they had disappeared in the surf many others released their roses over the aft. Of course there were tears, and Megan and I each flung a delicate blossom into the churning white foam of the sea. It has meant so much to me to remember the monthly anniversary of Nana’s passing and this was certainly one of the most touching memorials in her honor. The two roses vanished immediately, Megan and I welcoming the presence of our own urns around our necks.

Megan writes, “There is one day until our arrival in Kobe, the anticipation of trees flecked with colorful hues of autumn and cool, crisp weather planted firmly in my thoughts. Dean Tymitz and his wife Dixie are honoring a friend today who has passed away within the last year, his ashes to be discarded over the aft of the ship. They have invited faculty, staff, and students wishing to commemorate or remember loved ones. As the six-month anniversary of Nana’s death occurred several days ago, Heather and I will attend.

With beaded Indian shoes, an elegant white and black top, cashmere scarf and bronze urn around our necks we headed to deck six aft. John and Dixie distributed about six white roses to the other attendees wishing to participate, Heather and I holding our white flawless flowers in our hands. After a reading, Dean Tymitz took the blue frosted vase and dumped its contents into the turbulent whitecaps, puffs of the mushroom dust ballooning into the air before disintegrating and vanishing entirely. Dixie took the remaining dozen white roses and threw them overboard, their delicate petals ripped off in the grasp of the wind were sent swirling in circles before they too were tossed into the inimitable void of blue rolling fields.”

I have wondered how wonderful it would have been to return home to show Nana everything, tell her every detail, and how raptly she would listen. I am sure that she is eavesdropping, but it is just not the same.

Megan writes, “Heather and I joined the others in throwing our flowers into the depths of the sea, kissing our urns and imagining how marvelous it would have been to spread Nana’s ashes in this fashion with the family. I will never forget the panorama of blue sky and blue sea filled with dust and blossoms.”

We had pre-port tonight and learned that Japan does not accept US currency or foreign credit cards. This is the first port that we will have to rely completely on the currency of the country. I stressed a great bit during the beginning of the voyage about currency – how much to change, whether it could be changed back, and how many places would accept US dollars. Without fail, almost everywhere we have been has taken the US dollar.

Megan writes, “In our cabin, the bed seems to move slightly at night, me sliding down and then up with each surge. It will be wonderful to reach Japan and organize some of the disorder that has apparently taken over our quiet space. I look forward to the beauty of Kyoto and a traditional tea ceremony in the upcoming days.”

November 20, 2005
Japan

Today we arrived in Japan and received a five star welcome from the people of Kobe. As we cruised into port with the help of our tugs a fireboat sprayed water in vertical crossing fans, the crystal water glistening in the morning sunshine. Nearing the glass structure of the terminal the Kobe Fire Department Marching Band played loudly for our arrival in bright red uniforms like tin soldiers. It felt like a grand welcome stepping in time to the um-pa-pa of the tubas and the glass whistle tweet of the piccolos. We discovered this morning that the Internet and phones are both inaccessible during our stay in Japan and it is terribly frustrating not to be able to post blogs or call home.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Seventy-six trombones and one hundred and ten clarinets would not have been enough to rival the welcome we received in Japan. The fireboats spraying their water like gigantic fountains circled the MV Explorer, waving up at the crowds on the deck. At the pier, officers in red uniform played music continuously until the gangway had been lowered and the officers boarded to clear the ship for disembarkation. During the hours of checking passports, the port authorities made a presentation to Dean Tymitz and the Captain in the Union, bottles of wine and a Japanese sword offered as a token of friendship. A performance group hammered out the most amazing routine on beautiful wooden drums, polished to a high gloss. Every student was given a packet of four postcards and soon after the ships passengers emptied into the bustling metropolis.

Heather writes, “We exchanged money in the terminal and took a brief hiatus to walk around the area surrounding the port before heading back to the ship to work on our papers. It was, overall, a very lazy day, but tomorrow we will be going to Kyoto to see the gardens and temples.”

Heather and I took the opportunity of a vacant ship to complete some schoolwork, knowing the following day would be spent in Kyoto. With two ten page papers due after Japan, the Global Studies exam in over a week, and two optional papers instead of finals, we had quite a load on our plates. Luckily, the day was spent productively on the two papers. During a pause in our routine we went into the passenger terminal to exchange some money to the local currency. At pre-port we learned US dollars and VISA would be inadequate means within the country. A lengthy line gestured greedily towards our pockets and after an hour we returned to the ship feeling wealthier with more paper currency in our pockets.

With the rest of the night ahead, we continued work on the mammoth task of researching and writing, soon rewarded with the finalized essays. Heather and I selected images from our travels to fasten to the pages with photo corners and the papers were finished.

November 21, 2005
Kyoto

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We woke up early this morning to pack our camera bags, straighten our hair and eat breakfast before touring Kyoto. We had hoped to purchase a phone card in the terminal, but were disappointed to find the small shop locked up tight. It is so frustrating once again to have no means to communicate with home. We left around eight o’clock with the sun beating harshly through the large bus windows. The highways are so smooth that you can write quite easily, as I have been doing since our departure from the ship. We drove through Kobe, sandwiched between the glistening silver waters of Osaka Bay and the orange foliage covered slopes of Mount Rokko. Because of the earthquake ten years ago Kobe is a new city, and it definitely shows, everything glistens.

Megan writes, “The creeping battalions of the fingers of Jack Frost’s army announced their victory cry this morning through the iced window of our porthole. Their flag rose high in defeat, I surrendered to the brutal regime, peeling off the covers of the bed and crawling to the closet for a sweatshirt. After bundling up in three layers, my lavender Pactec performance jacket and pink cashmere scarf, breakfast consumed, Heather and I left the ship to try and purchase a phone card but to no avail. Our location in Kobe has severed the satellite connection with the ship, translating to a loss of Internet and phone capabilities. I guess the rule at home, other than flexibility, should be no news, is good news. We are slightly frustrated, as we had hoped to post our journals from our stay in China.”

On our way, Rumi, the tour guide, taught us about so many things; that Nippon is Japanese for Japan, about the Sakura, or cherry blossoms that bloom in April, how to count in Japanese and read the characters for each number. It was chilly outside, but no where near as cold as Beijing, and the arched walls of the thruway were like a tunnel surrounded in an envelope of red cellophane dangling from the partially bare limbs of the maple trees. Kyoto is the ancient capitol of Japan, and the drive into the city was reminiscent of the warm jewel tones of a long forgotten era. Ruby, emerald, and topaz - we passed many Tori-i, the bright red Shinto gates, and within an hour we arrived in Kyoto at the Kiyomizu Temple. It is a Buddhist site meaning clean and limpid water. Once at the temple we wandered around, walking past worn pagodas, autumn’s brilliant display, row upon row of dangling paper cranes, and water features not lacking in the actual specimen.

Megan writes, “It is never pleasant to begin the morning with the congestion of morning traffic on a tour bus bound for Kyoto. Thankfully our tour guide took the wonderful opportunity to acquaint us with the Japanese numbers – you’ll have to ask me later as I am positive I would butcher the spellings. She helped our pronunciations of the various syllables, comparing the sound to more familiar English words. Her brusque English brogue made me smile as she pointed out the resemblances.

The highway is designed almost aesthetically pleasing with curved sound barriers protecting the entire stretch. There are no recurrent exists into the city side streets of Kobe, Osaka or Kyoto, thus with the heavily influx of traffic comes the slow start and stop of vehicles. After an hour and a half we arrived in Kyoto, traversing the winding streets with their small wooden shops and decorated windows.”

Before departing we had some time to shop, and once again we found ourselves purchasing tea, this time Japanese green tea, an absolute must, as we will experience this delicacy tomorrow at a traditional ceremony. Certainly we could not leave without purchasing Kiyomizu tea ware, delicate cups with an ancient gold patina. Lastly something for Shannon, she is going to be so thrilled when she sees this, and some delicate woven tea napkins with the most beautiful embroidery. I could have bought a dozen, and very nearly did.

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Kiyomizu Temple hugged the base of the mountain, towering trees with new garments parading gown the slopes like a runway show were absolutely beautiful in sequins of russet, orange, cherry, and lemon hues. Their outfits were modern, the thin leaves like cellophane casting a diffused rainbow over the temple. I tried to envision myself in their delicate woven attire, but then a shiver ran down my spine reminding me of the crisp, cool air of autumn.

Inside the temple, a wooden platform projected from the side, its terrace offering a splendid vista of the gorge below. Small shops with vendors lined the winding labyrinth through the peak, selling small ornaments used as tokens for prayer. A large gong hung from the suspended rafters, a braided rope of colors extending to the ground – this cording so vivid and inviting amongst the rainbow of trees that I was overjoyed when a small woman came to coerce the gong to echo through the ravine.

Encompassing the temple is a hubbub of activity, little shops specking the street with everything Japanese. The most prominent, green tea, tea napkins and authentic Kiyomizu teacups, so fragile and beautiful that a particularly colorful, glazed and golden style was soon placed in a wooden box, wrapped in Japanese paper and added to my other purchases for friends and family.

Amongst these sweeping and lively lanes it is commonplace to have every item purchased wrapped in some sort of paper and equally sealed so as to prevent future peepage. From cylinders of various green tea and local crafts to expensive items, all become decorated art within a matter of minutes. With my packaged purchases I boarded the bus for Nijo Castle.

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Afterwards we drove to Nijo Castle, an authentic Samurai palace. The grounds were beautiful and landscaped just as a Japanese garden should be with lakes, and trees, and of course, rocks. We entered, removing our footwear in place of brown leather slippers and padded around on shushed soles over the worn wooden floorboards. The nightingale floor squeaked under the weight of our presence, surely if any samurai lived they would know we were coming and wait for us behind some dark corner with a surprising array of weapons and swords.

The walls slide open to reveal the aged workmanship of leopard print and peacock inspired murals, the rice paper grid work protecting the room from the environmental factors outside. The floors were a highly polished black, though worn from the passage of slippers to a burnt ember.

Megan writes, “Within the confines of the gate, we were implored to remove our shoes and sporting only white socks walked into the interior of the royal complex. Squeak, squeak, squeak – the sound audible over tour guides and visitors relaying and receiving information is surely mystifying. The nightingale floor as it is called is a precautionary device – unwanted guests could be heard sneaking into inner recesses of the castle. The boards creak and crack under the mass of tourists, our feet turning numb on the cold planks.

Golden screens painted with elaborate trees and birds section off the compound into living quarters, no furniture, just mats on the floors. Outside is a garden with a small waterfall that cascades into the pond where a stone bridge sweeps across the center to a small island inaccessible to the visitor. The colors of the leaves are equally as beautiful, their voluptuous shapes swaying to the music of a winter wind.”

I would have thought that after nine ports and the conclusion of the voyage in the near future that a universal respect for other cultures would have evolved among my comrades. After entering the samurai palace and walking on the nightingale floor many of the students use their flash to capture the dark corners and fading golden screens. I guess that some things never change.

Soon we were on our way to the park for a picnic lunch, and certainly it was everything you could have every hoped for. We sat on low benches surrounded by the bright red leaves of the maple trees, a small pond filled with the quaking of ducks and the arched bridge from one side to the other ringing with the laughter of Japanese children. Our lunch was decent, brought from the ship, though a spot of tea would have been quite welcome to warm the insides.

Megan writes, “Box lunches from the ship provide the ideal opportunity for a picnic in the park. I don’t mind the prepared meal from the ship, a turkey or salami sandwich with cheese, mayonnaise and mustard packs included, Oreo cookies, Granny Smith apple, banana bread, and Capri-sun. Sitting near the pond affords wonderful scenery, however a local nearby begins to chant and sing, tapping his foot and swaying his hands, his voice worse than my own. Heather and I laugh, along with another Megan, our laugh becoming more and more hysterical as he continues unaware of his audience.”

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

It is quite cold and so we ate our lunches with gloved hands, pulling our cashmere scarves up around our necks. As the chill begins to creep into our abdomens and muscles we head back to the motor coach for Heian Shrine. The complex is enormous and equally as bright with its bittersweet orange and red columns. A little girl about three years old stands on the white gravel in a pink kimono, her hair adorned with accessories, and square flip-flops on her feet. A sibling takes her hand, and the two of them walk up to the temple steps followed by parents. The clip clop of small feet is followed as well by a dozen tourists sporting digital cameras. Like giants we must seem, following her movements, smiling, looking through lens of our devices, trying to capture her cuteness. The embellishments in her hair, the pattern of the silk kimono, and her perfect adorable face too appealing not to capture.

Heather writes, “After lunch we visited a Shinto shrine, also painted the brick red of the gates. The cutest Japanese girl waltzed around the courtyard in a vibrant pink silk kimono. She loved to smile and laugh, though as soon as our group spotted her she frowned at our advances and camera wrapped fingers. We held back from the group, and indeed as they left she smiled again, though undoubtedly caused by our identical presence. Her small little finger pointed toward us as a huge grin lit her face. Okay, so there are many advantages to being a twin, and the attention of small kids is definitely one of them.”

As the sun began its quest for darkness, never capturing the illusive moon we arrived at the Golden Pavilion. Reflected in a pool of water, both the temple and its mirror image glowed in the emission of golden streamers. The foliage surrounding the complex added to its magnificence, stately reds and fiery oranges competing against the golden walls.

As dusk overtook the sky, regal purple and noble pinks blending into the landscape, Heather and I made a brief pause at a shop puzzled by the appearance of strange tan wafers with powdery white confections. After opening a small bag and sampling the crunchy cookie, yes, there it is, COOKIE, COOKIE, COOKIE, I ran back to the shop to purchase, yet another bag. Later our tour guide filled in the missing details of this strangely delicious concoction, a famous cookie, here it is again, call Yatsuhashi made from rice powder and cinnamon and covered with powdered sugar. YUMMMMY!
And no, here is the prime example of where cookie does not begin with C. This lip-smacking treat will make an appearance in San Diego for those fortunate souls to be greeting us at the ship. Everyone else, sorry, no COOKIE! COOKIE, COOKIE, COOKIE!!!

Heather writes, “Our last stop brought us to the Golden Pavilion, how I longed to see its gold-leafed surface after glimpsing its presence in the pictures of Nana and PopPop. It lived up to everything I had ever imagined, and certainly autumn is without a doubt the best time to visit Japan. It is simply gorgeous. It would be hard not to capture a decent photo of the pavilion as its architecture is reflected back in the glassy surface of the lake, its gold leaf glowing in the harshness of the setting sun. I am conflicted between feeling utterly alone and completely surrounded by Japanese tourists. Every time I pose for a snapshot in front of the pagoda the crowd parts like the red sea to clear the frame. The people are so respectful and I am touched for once by a complete reversal in tourist behavior, separate from the pushing and shoving of my peers.”

It took two hours to make our way out of Kyoto and onto the highway, a nightmare I never want to relive. But the best was yet to come. An accident and car pile-up had caused the entire, let me repeat, ENTIRE, highway to close and as those ridiculous sound barriers that appeared so contemporary and ingenious earlier, offered no outlet from the eight-hour hell we were left with only six spare boxed lunches and no restroom. What ensued was about three hours of sleep, on and off, snacking on extra sandwiches and apples that the majority of the bus loathed earlier in the day but soon found themselves competing for every last morsel and trying to laugh at light conversation, mostly about missing dinner. From four o’clock to twelve fifteen, midnight, yes midnight, we sat on a bus, not moving one inch, one centimeter, one millimeter or one nanometer. Not moving at all, we finally returned to our sanctuary on the ship after eight hours of agony to a table of pizza prepared by the crew at the snack bar. Never again will I take a one-hour bus to Kyoto, next time, the train.

Heather writes, “At four o’clock we boarded the tour bus for our journey back to Kobe, a ride of about one hour, though certainly no more than two. First, it took two hours to simply reach the freeway. And oh what was in store for us! One hour, two hours, three hours, four, all spent in the exact same spot – not moving even an inch! “Traffic” we were told, “most likely an accident. It could be two hours if it is just an accident, more than six if someone was killed.” Time ticked by slowly, Megan and I taking small naps and writing in our journals. Now that I think about it we could have played tic-tac-toe or hangman. When we started to move the bus exploded with applause, though it was short lived, only lurching forward several feet before halting again. It went on like this for nearly two more hours before we moved again, at last driving slowly, inch upon inch, foot upon foot up the road. We slept at least three hours curled up in our seats, it could have been more. Though by the time we began to move freely it had been nearly eight hours stuck in traffic and our six o’clock return to the ship had become half past midnight!

How wonderful it was to see the Explorer and after swiping our cards to see a table full of pizzas for our return from the dining staff. As nice as it was we each ate one slice and then crashed. Tomorrow we have an early wakeup for the tea ceremony, but a good cup of tea is definitely what I need right now.”

November 22, 2005
A Traditional Tea Not to Be

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

Reporting to the first floor of the terminal at eight thirty we waited, and waited, and waited for the appearance of our tea master, but to no avail. It just seems that nothing is meant to be in Japan. The trip was scheduled for nine and so as nine became nine fifteen we had to make a decision. Wait for the small possibility of tea, or leave with another trip for a day of unexpected visits and plans, but at least a trip somewhere. We chose the certainty of a field program and left with a small group of about twelve to Kobe University and Himeji Castle.

We took the port train into the city, completely unsure of our itinerary, heading for Kobe University. After the train we hopped a bus to the campus and arrived on the grounds of a tree covered lawn and the student union. The leaves are amazing. It makes me wish for warm cider, a good book, and a cozy corner to crawl up in. It is so peaceful and the campus reminds me of Maryland. How strange it will be to return next semester to the home of the Terps.

Megan writes, “I considered calling this entry something more appropriate like Kobe University and Himeji Castle, or some catchy aphorism about a non-existent tea ceremony, but alas no such cleverness came to my thoughts. But yes, the tea ceremony was cancelled and in an attempt to rectify the day Heather and I along with three or four others from the termination of the tea party joined the only other tour to Kobe University and Himeji Castle in what I believe most undoubtedly was meant to be, as I cannot imagine my stay in Japan to have been complete without these two visits.

We purchased tickets for the train, a thankful reprieve from tour buses, and arrived at Kobe University. I think I have developed a phobia to this sort of transportation. Nestled amongst the hills and rich foliage, the campus spread up and out, tall buildings with many floors. Our guide, a professor at the university took us to observe the ballroom dancing group at practice in the main building, afterwards followed by a walking tour in the pleasantly cool, but warm, morning. In his classroom we spoke with other students. I conversed with two girls who asked a million questions about the United States, Semester at Sea, and of course, shopping. All the female students on the campus seem to carry around shopping bags, not just plastic crinkly ones, but rather, fancy cardboard bags with silky handles. I asked them if they just brought their purchases from shopping to class with them, their reply, ‘It is easier to carry a change of clothes in.’ Well, I guess if that is what works, great. It seems to be a statement at the same time, an advertisement of sorts and I cannot imagine the University of Maryland with this added element.”

The professor introduced us to his students and we spent the next hour talking with them about our trip, our school, and our home. I conversed with two guys about university life in Japan. He asked if I have seen the red leaves in Kyoto and what it is like at home. “It’s about the same. The leaves are changing color and the weather is getting colder. Pretty soon it will snow.” He was surprised and excited about the color of leaves. “What do you call them?” he asked. “Autumn leaves, I suppose,” I responded. “What color…autumn…leaves?” I told him that the leaves are golden yellow, fiery orange, and crimson red. “Red? I thought only Japan had red leaves!” I was sorry to tell him that he is not the only one with red leaves.

Afterwards we proceeded to the dining hall and the infamous plastic menu. You don’t have to know Japanese to order, all you have to do is point at the dish and it appears in a less plasticized version. We savored a warm broth and rice before emerging back into the chill of autumn and heading for Himeji Castle.

Megan writes, “Around noon we ventured into the cafeteria for lunch, sticky rice and soup accompanied with oolong tea. Their dining hall reminds me a lot of Maryland, although here the point method seems to work well behind the language barrier.”

Excerpt from Megan’s Journal:

Back on the train for forty minutes to Himeji castle I slumbered with the help of the sandman, waken by Heather minutes before our departure from the speeding shell. The castle atop the mount looms over a park with exposed trees, their foliage of scarlet, crimson, cherry and burgundy filling the stone chiseled ditches. Like a path of breadcrumbs the red foliage speckles the walk up, up, up into the labyrinth of the wooden structure where we remove our shoes, replacing them with brown slippers. Seven flights up and consumed by the wooden behemoth we look out into the private grounds of the castle that converge with the city center, all mottled with the shades of autumn and the frosty cool, nippy, but brisk, air of a day in winter.

Heather writes, “Himeji Castle stood white against the bluest of skies and the delicate needlework of the veined autumn leaves. Entering the seven-story complex we removed our shoes and placed brown leather slippers on our feet. It made it difficult to traverse the worn varnish on the wooden planks and the narrow steps, but it was well worth the effort to the top and the far more authentic feel of the ancient castle. It is painted in a splendid white and as we approached from the footprints of the city and Christmas decorations the orange leaves provided a perfect backdrop for imagining the samurai of old reigning from the castle.”

Himeji remains as impressive in my mind as the Taj Mahal, a site where The Last Samurai was filmed and being the original wooden palace, quite a gem. Perhaps what is most impressive is its location. It is so commanding within the city, easily at the highest peak so that every eye is directed to its beauty. It was also not frequented by a large mass of tourists, making it more enjoyable than other locales of architectural and historical importance.

Heather writes, “We spent over an hour at the castle before walking back to the train station. We were originally going to take the bullet train, but when the majority of the group heard how expensive it was they backed out. I was slightly disappointed, but nevertheless we returned to Kobe and remained in the city with Emily nearly forty minutes later instead of only ten. Our first stop was the Sogo Department Store and its food court in the basement. I say food court in the loosest sense of the word; it was more like a market of wonderful food. We were evidently starved for desserts and found ourselves picking out several items from a bakery that were absolutely delicious – a huge marble chocolate muffin, flaky chocolate pastry, and two donut like things covered in sugar. We had not even eaten dinner.”

Heading back to Kobe, Heather and I opted to remain in the city center with Emily to do a little shopping and eat dinner. Of course we soon found ourselves smack in the middle of four malls. Not one, not two, not even three, but four! Perhaps there were more than four, but the easiest way to access the situation is to claim that the whole of Kobe is indeed a mall. Not pleased with the absence of markets we went to the ground floor of Sogo Department Store where the smell of pastries and other delectable meals were being prepared. We skipped right to desert when we came across a shop filled with sugary “doughnuts” and gooey pastries. From this feast we walked around a little longer before heading to a Panera Bread equivalent for some soup.

We returned to the ship, darkness enveloping the city, and found ourselves quickly asleep in the comfort of our cabin.

Heather writes, “We were hoping to find traditional handicrafts, but we have left the realm of markets for the world of malls, and Kobe felt like one huge shopping district, each block another mall. We stopped at a small soup restaurant and had a bread bowl filled with soup before purchasing a few goodies from a mini mart and returning to the ship. The receipt was written in Japanese script, though the lesson from Rumi on numbering proved very beneficial as Megan and I pieced together the bill. We returned to the ship after dark satisfied with our unplanned day at least.

Tomorrow we plan to remain on the ship to finalize papers.”

November 23, 2005
MV Explorer

Excerpt from Heather’s Journal:

We certainly enjoyed sleeping a little later this morning, followed by the somewhat less enjoyable process of editing and printing essays. It took almost all day, but we have finalized all of our assignments, leaving plenty of time to work on the daunting task of photos and journaling. We still do not have Internet service, which means it will be quite some time before we post on the blog.

Megan writes, “Having spent a good deal in Himeji, Kobe, and Kyoto we were more than ready for a respite. We opted again for a day on the ship, only going into the passenger terminal to exchange a small amount of currency back into US dollars. The extra coins we decided to spend in the vending machines on drinks – water, some soda, and tea.”

We did venture out to the terminal to call home and enjoyed hearing about plans for the holidays and updates on the kitchen remodeling. It was so nice to talk for an hour instead of the thirteen minutes that we are usually allotted on the ship.

It is back to sea tomorrow on the long trek to Hawaii filled with exams and studying, Thanksgiving, and the Ambassador’s Ball
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Megan writes, “It seems as if I am quite behind on organizing photos and journaling, unfortunately it will have to wait as we lose five hours during the seven days to Hawaii, tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and November 28th is the Ambassador’s Ball. We departed for Hawaii, a crossing of seven days, but a return to the familiar.”

Stay tuned for more tomorrow about these special events and our time in Hawaii.