An American Export

Halloween is an American export to Japan. Who would have thought? Melba and I drove to Yokota Air Force base after she got out of work today. We went to visit with Ronda and the family turning the weekend into a trip into Tokyo. This is the third trip we make to Yokota AFB by car and I am still amazed at the length of time it takes to get here from Yokosuka. This time out it took us two hours and ten minutes to travel forty-five miles.

As soon as we turned off the main highway and approached the main gate of the base we were surprised to see throngs of costumed Japanese kids waiting for their American sponsors from the base to escort them in for their trick-or-treating excursion.


Every single one of them was in costume. These kids take this very seriously. It must be a major event of the year for them. Back at Yokosuka the base commander said that his place alone got hit by 800 trick-or-treaters, American and Japanese.

Cities by the Sea

After lunch today I set out on foot again to explore the city at three miles an hour. More of what I see will register in my head at that speed. The afternoon was perfect for walking and I managed to hoof it eight miles from start to finish. The more I saw of Yokosuka the more it reminded me of Corpus Christi.

Both straddle a beautiful body of water and draw many rewards from the sea and the commercial interests it fosters. Each hosts an important U.S. naval base and shares a long history of being a navy town. In the twelve weeks that I've been here, it's amazing how the two cities have paralleled each other's weather. There is one important difference that I took note of. Yokosuka boasts a lot more senior citizens bicycling their way from point A to point B. This is a healthy populace. Aquí no hay gordos. I like it here, pero está muy lejos de mi tiera.

I've Been Looking

My brother Danny needs some rice paddy hats for some kids who are going to ride on a Christmas parade float back in the States. I'm in Japan. Should be easy to find a whole bunch of them here, but I'm not having any luck. I have come across kimonos of all sizes, samurai swords, geta sandals, ninja outfits, tanto daggers, ornate ear pickers and some very mean-looking chopsticks, but no rice paddy hats. Every couple of days I take some time to go into town and peek into every shop, large and small, hoping to strike pay dirt. These have become walks of discovery and I have come to learn that there are two Yokosukas; the modern one with high rises, multi-tiered shopping centers and noisy six lane thoroughfares, and the simpler one of quiet alleys that wind up knolls peppered with little houses that cling to the hillside like ornaments on the holiday tree. There are neighborhoods with small bakeries, produce stands, and 200-square-foot grocery shops with barely enough room for a half-dozen customers. Still, I can't zero in on those rice paddy hats.

Since the fist time I took a walk down Blue Street I was impressed with the Japanese people's attention to personal appearance. What a well-attired population; young, old and nearly everything in between. I could spend a whole day just snapping pictures of the typically dressed crowds of citizens going about their business. Occasionally, you have a stand-out who marches to a different drummer, but for the most part it is a very attractive population.

Within walking distance of the Main Gate I've come across about a dozen shrines and temples. There is even a small shrine just off the sidewalk on Dobuita Street, a lively artery better known for distilled spirits than for those of the Shinto variety. A Buddhist temple on my map labeled Ryotyoin posted a large sign at its entrance that read in large English print OFF LIMITS TO MILITARY PERSONNEL. There's a story there somewhere.

I just noticed I'm wearing the same shirt I wore on Sunday. That means I have to wash less often or buy more shirts.

Good-bye Shoes

Last evening the eyelet on my left shoe busted. It just happened suddenly. I wasn't expecting it, but then who is? This fine pair of walking shoes is useless to me now. Much like a horse with a broken leg, they had to be put down. I didn't like doing it. Hell! They were just a little over four months old. It just doesn't seem fair. They still had a lot of miles left in them.

I purchased them at a Bealls department store in Kingsville, Texas back in June for about $50. I didn't even try them on. I just looked at the size number on the shoebox and paid for them. I knew they would fit just fine. They were going with me on vacation later that month. At the time I had no idea that we would go so far together in so short a time. They were with me when I took my first ride on a New York City subway from Queens to Columbus Circle near Central Park. We posed for a picture in front of The Plaza, and then later got lost in Central Park looking for the statue of Baldo. We found him eventually. That afternoon we lunched at Lindy's on 7th and West 53rd then walked another eight blocks to stand in the center of Times Square. They never complained.

We boarded a flight to Milan the next day and once through customs took the bus from Malpensa to Stazione Centrale, standing for what seemed forever at Platform 15 waiting for the train to Venice. So comfortable a pair of shoes that I never once gave my feet a thought. Once we pulled into Stazione Santa Lucia we quickly made our way through the crowded train station and out the glass doors to stand in the bright Italian sun with the Grand Canal before us and the green dome of Chiesa di San Simeon Piccolo welcoming me back after a nine year absence. The shoes, of course, hadn't been with me back then for that first visit, but I quickly walked them around that most wonderful of cities. We strolled through a Piazza San Marco thick with fluttering pigeons, took a ride on a gondola, and crossed to the Lido to gaze into the distant blue haze on the horizon of the mysterious Adriatic. Neither they or I had any idea how much further we would go together only two months later. Before long we would cross the Pacific and walk the streets of Tokyo, stand before the Great Buddha at Kamakura and dig our heels at the foot of Mount Fuji. When you share so much in such a compressed time frame you can form a very strong bond.

Maybe it was just too much for them to handle; the walking I mean. They have been on my feet every single day since I first set foot on Japan. I have tough feet, hardy really. They're pretty to look at, quite attractive for a man of my years, but hard on shoes. There's a great deal of compression on a size eight shoe from a 180-pound load.

This most dependable of shoes deserved more than a cold and unfeeling toss into the trash bin. I slipped on my new pair of "Air Monarchs", manufactured in Communist Vietnam, and took a drive out to the water's edge. With Tokyo Bay as a backdrop I gave the old pair my thanks and said good-bye. I will never forget them.

Begin Week #12

Yesterday, when we stepped out of the Yokosuka train station we took a detour on our walk back to the Main Gate. Melba had not had an opportunity to stroll through Verny Park and I thought she would enjoy seeing it. The favorable weather that greeted us in Odawara followed us back to Yokosuka so the park was a nice place to be that afternoon. As I've stated in an earlier post, Verny Park runs along 2000 feet of bay front real estate and provides a good vantage point to observe the Navy's port facilities. Someone operates a boat service that gives riders a tour of much of the Navy's port infrastructure for only ¥12. Looking across the water from the rail that runs the full length of the park's boardwalk we saw that there were no less than five Japanese submarines moored there, each flying the rising sun, the military flag of Japan. It was an uncommon sight for us.

"Take my picture," I said to Melba.

We each pack a pocket-sized digital camera wherever we go and since we've been in Japan I've begun to make an appearance in more of our pictures. One day I'll be a decrepit old man with only my memories and a few dog-eared photos to recall my former earthly glory or what's left of it. I know you can't form a sentence with the word photogenic and my name in it, but this mug is all I have to work with. I had hoped that God would have been more generous in the "Hollywood-good-looks" department, but I've come to believe that He showered that sack of blessings on my dad and when my turn came the only thing left in the bag was lint. I suppose God figured that was all I needed on the outside.

Luck paid me a visit this morning and it wasn't even my birthday. It would have pleased me to no end if she had been Lady Luck. I like her. She carries money, but this one was just called Luck and she wasn't handing out cash. I looked out my window and caught this scene out in the bay. It was one of the Japanese submarines slowly moving out of the harbor. I quickly reached for my camera. To an old ranch kid like me, raised out in the sticks in the South Texas brush country, what I saw was cause for excitement. As a kid the only thing I ever saw moving through the water like that were the heads of snapping turtles bobbing like corks on the still surface of the ranch lake. My older brother used to shoot at the turtles with a .22, the sub, I can only take aim with a camera.

Odawara Castle

We took a train to Odawara today. This city by the sea is about 30 miles west of Yokosuka on the edge of the Fuji-Hakone National Park. Depending on the number of times you change trains, the trip takes about an hour-and-a-half. I had been wanting to get out there for about a month, but it's impossible to see everything at once. I've got to pace myself. The city's claim to fame is the Odawara Castle of the Hojo family which controlled this part of Japan during the 15th century. The castle, a short walk from the train station, is a restoration dating back to 1960. Today it is open to the public as a museum. According to the history the main castle structure, known as the donjon, has been destroyed and rebuilt several times. On the grounds surrounding it are a large number of trees; plum, cherry, azalea and wisteria. Photography is not permitted in the castle itself, but once I reached the uppermost observatory platform, I was able to take pictures of the surrounding area. The moat and stone wall from the original complex remain.

There was a light drizzle falling on our walk to the Yokosuka Station, but once on board the more we traveled west the more the damp weather abated. By the time we pulled into Odawara the conditions were cool and dry.

Once again we hit on a tourist site that offered very little information in English. Except for a small brochure the lady handed us from behind the admission desk, we were hard pressed to clearly understand the full significance of the displays and artifacts housed in the castle. Nevertheless, we were still able to pick up new knowledge simply by studying the exhibits. The longer I am in this country the more fascinated I am with its history.

The interior is made up of four floors, each lined with period tools, weapons, pictorial prints, garments, armor and historical ornament. Melba didn't care to challenge the steep steps after the second floor and she opted to wait for me at the gift shop on the grounds below. She should have stuck around. The highest floor of the castle housed a top-notch souvenir shop stocked with all kinds of unique trinkets. I barely gave them a glance. The expanse of the Pacific to the east and the range of mountains forming a backdrop to the city were what interested me. Standing in the open with a view like that makes me wish I had a better camera.

We only came across one American the entire time we were there. The same is true for the train ride coming here and going back. We had to ask ourselves, "Where are all the Americans from the base on a Sunday? Are they instead driving their personal vehicles to the tourist spots or are they spending the weekend hours shopping?" We just find it curious.

From the upper-most tier there were excellent views in all directions from Odawara. On a clear day Mount Fuji dominates the landscape to the west, but while we were there it was shrouded in clouds. It was only when we were pulling away from the train station that the clouds lifted enough to reveal its snow-capped peak, but only briefly. Sorry, no picture.

Walk to the Hilltop

Yokosuka reminds me a little of San Francisco. Both are bounded by water on three sides, have a lot of hills, steep winding streets, twice as many steps to get from one point to another and the overall geography is similar. Weather permitting, Yokosuka is a good town to explore on foot. Today, the overcast sky was kind to us and held back its water. With map in hand we walked out the base gate and hit the pavement. Our goal was a one-mile walk to the Nature and Human Historical Museum located at the top of one of the many hills in the city. I enjoy places like that and Melba didn't mind the walk because we would have to pass by a thousand shops going to and coming from the museum. The streets are full of bumper-to-bumper traffic and the sidewalks can't hardly support the flow of people coming and going. I suspect that the Japanese economy is good.

The museum was no disappointment. The exhibits are all very well displayed and considering that every plaque, sign, and label was written in Japanese I still managed to pick up a lot of information. The only English signs to be seen were the "NO SMOKING" and the "EXIT."

Next to the museum there sits on the hilltop a park that gives a good view of the city in all directions. Remarkably, it is strangely quiet there. You can see the hills off to the west and south and Tokyo Bay with its non-stop ship traffic to the north and east.

Just a mile-and-a-half from my vantage point I can see Monkey Island. The Japanese name for the island is Sarushima. It's a popular spot for fishing, swimming, and family cookouts these days, but back in the later part of the 19th century it served as a military fortification because of its strategic location at the entrance to Tokyo Bay. There's a ferry that runs out there and I plan to take it before the weather turns cold.

Except for a young family of four and a guy walking a couple of hairy dachshunds, Melba and I had the place to ourselves. There were markers, monuments, statues, plaques, and signs signifying important things, but I couldn't read a word of it. I get the impression that this wasn't a spot frequented by foreign tourists. On the way up here from the base I don't think we saw more than two or three people that weren't Japanese.

Half the fun we had was on the way back to the base. Never mind the people watching. You can't top that, but the variety of goods and services for sale is incredible. You've got store clerks standing outside their businesses hawking their wares like carnival barkers. So long as you have a few Yen in your pocket its very doubtful you'll starve. It seems like all the food in the world is for sale along the side streets. One place in particular caught Melba's attention. It was a produce store with the plumpest, freshest, most brightly colorful fruits and veggies we'd ever seen. The place was packed elbow-to-elbow with shoppers. I'll need to get over my reluctance to snap a picture of the vendors and clerks. They all look so spiffy in their starched uniforms. The service is second-to-none.

What thrilled Melba the most was a Christmas display she saw in one of the shop windows. It reminded her that we'll be home for a South Texas pan de polvo tamale menudo Christmas. Eso lo prometo.

Move the Pointer over the pictures to read the captions.

Prisoner of the Gods

Before today, I did not know there was a car wash on Yokosuka Naval Base. The car got washed when it rained. On a day like today I'll just run out to it y le doy una lavadita with a wet cloth y en dos por tres she is good to go.

The common water sprinkler is not to be found sitting on any patch of grass in this part of Japan. There is no need for them. When the weather gods will it, and they've been inclined to do so every couple of weeks, the low dark clouds roll in from the Kanto Plain in the west or from the Pacific in the east and open up like a sieve. Soon we are all running around like wet cats. It is really the kind of climate ranchers have dreamed about in South Texas since the first cow was coaxed north of the Rio Grande.

My problem with this dream weather is that it is holding me captive on the base. Since Monday it's been wet and windy. Of course, the damp weather shouldn't be enough to hold me back. I could walk into town and explore, but then I'd be wrestling with my umbrella as if it were a mad dog at the end of a short leash. The wind gusts through the narrow streets as if they were wind tunnels. There are enough activities on base to occupy the time, but I am here on sabbatical and a quest of discovery. I need to be out there. My days in Japan are not infinite and they are falling from the calendar like the autumn leaves. This opportunity to explore the country will not last forever.

In My Dreams

This little boy has been visiting my dream world every other night since I first lay my head down to sleep in Japan. When he's through with me he jumps over to my wife's side of the bed and visits in her dream cycle for a while. His name is Evan and in our former lives back in the States he practically lived in our home. We miss him so much we have a chronic ache in our hearts all the time. My wife and I joke that if we could only get to Alaska we could drive all the way home.

Last night his dream visit was so real. It was the kind of dream that stays with me long after the sleep has left my eyes. I couldn't dislodge his image out of my head. It stuck to my brain like peanut butter on the roof of the mouth. Before long I ended up making a call to the States to speak with him. I needed to hear his little voice, and even then, my spirit would not be comforted. To compound my melancholy it rained all day here.

Well, that's all I got to share right now. Like my mother says, I just needed to 'descansar mi pecho'.

Visitors from Yokohama

Melba had visitors today from the Kanagawa Prefectural Yokohama Senior High School of International Studies. Yokohama is just up the road from us, halfway to Tokyo. Two faculty members from the school accompanied seven young ladies and a gentleman to the library at Sullivans Elementary School. They came at the invitation of the school counselor, Mr. Potson. Melba was very impressed with the students' maturity and their command of English. Communication was no problem, and they're sharp dressers, too. Their sponsors said that the students were seniors and that they had been hand-picked to make the trip. Before coming to the library they stopped to visit with some of the first grade classes on campus. There are ten of them. Later, they lunched at one of the fast-food joints on base. They chose pizza; no surprise.

Abandonadas

Except for the brand-spanking new gray bike in front, all the rest on the rack appear abandoned since I first set eyes on them two months ago. They're decent bikes, too. A couple even have the rider's helmet in the baskets. They're not chained, either. Seems like such a waste. On base all the bikes have to be registered with security and no one, absolutely no one, rides without a helmet. A good number of the workforce on the base is Japanese and many of them ride bikes to work. As for these abandoned ones, if it weren't for the law I would have picked the best of the lot and pedaled away.

No A/C

The powers-that-be on the base turned off the air-conditioning to all the townhouses, residential towers, and businesses. It's time to open the windows. From what I understand, they shut the A/C off after the first three consecutive cool days in fall. Problem is that today the thermometer reached 87 degrees. Too bad, they say. That's just the way it is. In the 19 years we lived in our home we never once opened the windows. Never. Look at us now. It's just like when I was a kid at the ranch. All that's missing are the yip yaps of the coyotes.

Walking around here in the evening is like strolling through a neighborhood from an earlier era. All the windows are open and family life is on display to the world. Almost every sound and kitchen smell is carried quite a ways in the still air. From the cries of a baby to someone sneezing, the sounds bounce off the towers like echoes in a canyon.

Melba and I went for a long walk tonight. The streets are clean and well lit, security patrols are ever present, no loose dogs to worry about, and there is almost no traffic to consider. There are some polished stone slabs along the bay front we sit on sometimes to watch the moving lights on the dark waters of Tokyo Bay. We sit there and look into the night to the east and think of home.

Begin Week #11

I was not a tourista today and that's unfortunate. Today was such a pretty day. Mondays are a good to go into town and explore on foot, but there were too many domestic chores to take care of around here.

Boxes. I make my own boxes to mail stuff back home. Melba amassed an impressive array of trinkets to send off to her former co-workers at the Benavides Elementary School. The dimensions of the box they are mailed in is factored into the postage so I make my own boxes out of discarded cardboard for a cozy fit. That takes a while, but if I do say so myself, the boxes are excellent. Oh, and the wrapping! No one ever made plain brown wrapping paper look so good. It's almost criminal to tear the wrapping off to get at what's inside.

Melba and I voted today; absentee, of course. She called from school to tell me that our ballots were in. We took care of that patriotic duty before lunch. In the local races back home nadien tiene contra as usual, but they get my vote anyway. Since I was eighteen I've always done my civic duty at election time, but living on a large naval base surrounded by service men and women seven days a week, the importance of voting is bolstered.

Then our toaster that probably hasn't browned more than two loaves of sliced bread since we brought it here finally quit on us. It won't pop the toast up out of the slots. It's my fault really. I pulled the cheapest one of the shelf when we got it. $9.00 You get what you pay for. This ended up costing me more. When I went over to the NEX the toaster section was almost wiped out. I ended up taking a $20 model. It's probably what I should have got in the first place.

I'll get into town tomorrow. My little brother wants me to locate about a dozen rice paddy hats. That isn't going to be easy.

Shinto on Parade

A nine this morning Melba and I claimed a park bench under one the cherry trees between the McDonald's and the Food Court. We were there to watch a mikoshi parade down Clement Boulevard on the base. We didn't even know what a mikoshi was, but we soon added it to our growing list of cultural discoveries. All we knew for certain was that Yokosuka Naval Base would let its guard down for one day and open its gates to the Japanese public. They poured in like water over a dam, but instead of claiming good vantage points to watch the parade, every Japanese man, woman, and child made a bee line for the Food Court area. All walked briskly, many ran.

"What's their hurry?" I asked one of the teachers from Melba's school. She happened to be walking by. An eight-year veteran of Yokosuka would know.

"Pizza," she said. "They all want the pizza."

"Pizza?" I asked. "What's the deal with pizza?" I'd had the pizza at the Food Court and I'd tasted better. I couldn't understand.

"What's so special about the pizza?" I asked again. It didn't make sense. "They have plenty of pizza joints in the city," I added.

"It's just cheaper here," she explained. "It's more expensive in town."

It was amazing how saving a few Yen could drive hundreds of people like that, but soon the area in front of the Food Court looked like a Sarah Palin rally, only this bunch was carrying napkins instead of placards.

At noontime, the mikoshi parade began. It had already made its run down the streets of Yokosuka that morning and had now filed through the base gate to reach its starting point at the start of Clement Boulevard. Soon we began to hear loud chants, drums, bells, and flutes. We learned that a mikoshi is a sacred boxlike litter in which the image of the local Shinto kami (god) is carried by poles on the shoulders of several men, and sometimes women. Led by a chanting Shinto priest, the mikoshi, one of about thirty in the parade, made its way up the street all the while being rocked and rolled along the route to the beat of pounding drums and melodic Krishna flutes..., and chanting, lots and lots of chanting, almost hypnotic. It had a pep rally quality to it. This kami had spirit... how 'bout you?

Some of the mikoshi resembled a miniature building, with pillars, walls, a roof, a veranda and railing. It was all very noisy and colorful just like a parade back in the States, but no one was tossing candy out to the kids lined along the route. The Japanese don't toss anything out onto their streets. What they did offer was lots of exuberance. The parade participants were real worked up. This procession had energy.

Depending one the size of the mikoshi the whole thing is supported on two or four poles. It is magnificently decorated and sports a Phoenix-like figure on the peak of its roof. There is so much I don't know about this culture.

Everyone was decked up in costumes and all seemed to be having a great time huffing, puffing, grunting, chanting and whooping. It was almost competitive in nature. Who could show the most zeal.

If it was fervent pride that wished to display they were successful. I should have taken more pictures of the Japanese people in the crowds. They are such good and neat dressers. I didn't lay eyes on one single slob. You just have to admire the care they take in their personal appearance. This attention to dress extents from the young to the old.

I lost count of how many mikoshi went by, but it was more than thirty. These people were all smiles. They were really having a good time. After the parade they lined up for food and spread out picnic style under the trees. It looked like an Easter Sunday outing, all very pleasant.

Don't forget the beer. After the parade it's all about food and drink, lots of it. The best-selling adult beverages were Budweiser and Heineken. Imagine that, consumption of beer, out in the open, on a navy base. Chalk it up to good and effective PR.

Fire Drill

The CNFJ Regional Fire Department is conducting its annual fire evacuation drills for all high-rise housing towers on the base this weekend. That means us. The alarm was sounded at 12:30 p.m. and baby, it was loud. Whether you wanted to evacuate the building or not, you had to get out of your apartment anyway to escape the shrill buzzer. It was enough to raise the dead. Afterwards, fire department personnel delivered a fire safety lecture in the parking lot.

Come Drive With Me

In conversations with my younger sister we got to talking about my driving adventures in Japan. It's been quite a ride behind the wheel the last few weeks. She suggested I video a little of my driving. Today I did. The traffic was light coming back from Ms. Bishop's place in Ikego so I pulled out my pocket camera.

English Class

There's a great demand for private English instruction here. A lot of the citizenry wants to be able to speak it conversationally. It pays decent money and since you're basically self-employed it allows for lots of flexibility in your schedule. I'm going to do it.

I hooked up with a group on base that networks together. It functions as a support group for many of the people who teach English here. It's made up of mostly Navy wives. The lady who heads it up is Ms. Bishop, a very helpful person who's been teaching English to the locals for a few years now. She suggested that some of us might benefit from shadowing one of her classes. It would give us a better understanding of the dynamics involved. I took her up on the offer and drove to her home in Ikego this morning. She was tutoring a group of three.


It was a great experience. I had just about forgotten that teaching could be so much fun. The ladies were attentive, prepared, and hard working. They were as committed to the task of learning English as was Ms. Bishop to teaching it. These ladies were motivated. Kazudo, the third from the left, is a grandmother with grandchildren living in Buffalo, New York. Her reason for wanting to master English was so that she could speak to her grand kids when she calls. They don't speak very much Japanese. The hour I spent with this group was one of the best since I've been here.

Small Things

Walking a quiet little neighborhood in Ikego I came upon this little Shinto shrine.

I then came across this group of kids being escorted by what I suppose was their teacher. It was about lunchtime.

Postcards

My nephew's kids sent us these postcards. We received them today. God bless their little hearts. I am touched.

A Bit of Everything

Melba was in the market for some trinkets to send home to friends and family. Last weekend at the tourist traps around Mount Fuji we had come across an almost limitless selection of inexpensive little Japanese collectables. After arriving home she realized she should have purchased more. This afternoon we walked through the maze of shops in downtown Yokosuka to see if perhaps we could find one that stocked souvenir-type items. We barely scratched the surface. There are so many shops.

She didn't find what she was looking for on this outing, but we did come across lots of places to satisfy any appetite on the planet. If it's one thing that the Japanese have in Yokosuka it is a choice of almost any foods; American, Japanese, or you name it. We zeroed in on the sweet stuff.

Here's a rundown on what one can see downtown. There are Italian restaurants, Korean barbecue, a children's bookstore, men's and women's clothing, travel agencies, a train station, currency exchange machines, bakeries, optical shops, sandwich shops of all description, Chinese food, jewelry stores, arts and crafts supplies, framing stores, stationary shops, cell phone outlets, sushi bars, a French bakery, a bank, a nothing-but-noodles restaurant, bars, burger joints, fruit and vegetable vendors, nail salons, hair salons, a drug store, three McDonald's inside a quarter mile, and much much more. We couldn't find a place that sold little Japanese knick-knack collectables.