Heavenly Daze

The idle monkey trainer recently took a few days off from not training monkeys to enjoy the sites, sun, snow and brews of South Lake Tahoe. If there is any less encouraging way to start a ski weekend, it was the snowless drive from San Francisco to South Lake Tahoe. In the dark we could not see the mountain, but were not encouraged when a local told us “it hasn’t snowed in two months.” “December,” confirmed his companion.

Day 1

Our first day on the slopes was a rough start, owing to a rather foolish decision to continue exploring the various nightlife opportunities that exist along the California-Nevada state line.

The Heavenly gondola takes off from US 50 just off the lake shore and does not stop for two miles and 1000 vertical feet. We took more local advice and started on the California side and were pleasantly surprised by the conditions. The snow was packed, but given that it was 45F at the base when we got up, we had expected slush at best. The cloudless blue sky left stunning views out over the lake.

Our group ended the day at Heavenly’s new lodge at the top of the gondola for some happy hour beers and views of the Heavenly Angels. On Thursdays and Fridays the lodge happy hour blasts loud tunes as go-go dancing Angels gyrate to the beat and drinks go at half-price. This takes drink prices back to normal from ski lodge level.

I will mention dinner at a small Italian place only for the two-sentence review that summed it up perfectly: “Despite being on the ground level, it had all the ambiance of a basement. But, the food was good.”

Day 2

There were clouds in the sky when we awoke on the second day of skiing, but this was no indication of cooler temperatures. We circled around to the north end of the Lake and the posh resort of Northstar. The crowds at the base had us a bit concerned about lift lines and crowded slopes, but this is an area at least as much about the idea of going skiing as it is about actually skiing.

On the mountain we found it fairly easy to avoid the crowds, and even found a few groomed blacks that had seen so few skiers there was still corduroy in the mid-afternoon. This is a big, wide open mountain with plenty of glade skiing and would make for a great day when covered in fresh snow.

The après ski this day did not feature strippers, er, I mean, go-go dancers, so did not really measure up to Heavenly. But, it held its own with comfortable couches around the ice rink and a live band. Naturally, this is set up in the center of the “village” which to all of us looked exactly like every other “village” built in North America in the last 10 years.

Day 3

We awoke to rain, which intermittently changed to freezing rain. We were not encouraged and thought there would be no skiing this day. Still, we ventured out for Kirkwood, which was reporting two inches of new snow. As we drove up and over a 7000-foot pass we watched the car’s outside thermometer near freezing and the precipitation turn into something resembling snow. Then we descended and there was talk of what would happen (nothing) if we arrived at the base of the resort and found rain.

Then we turned a corner and found winter. By the time we reached the ticket window there was snow, and it had been coming down all night. We eagerly geared up and headed for the top. As we checked a map and determined our route to the backside, a man skied up to inform us it was so windy he had come back to the front. We ventured on anyway and were rewarded. (Apparently one man’s too windy is another man’s breeze.)

There was about five inches of new snow – and not the infamous “Sierra Cement” I had anticipated. We floated and played over open runs and through nicely spaced trees. The temperature was still a bit warm and the long slow lifts meant the snow had time to melt and soak us each time we rode up. We decided to break for lunch only when one of our crew had so much moisture in his goggles he could not see and no way to dry them.

We traversed back to the front side, and found some great glades in which we were introduced to the Sierra Cement. It was deep and heavy, but as someone put it, “milky.” We walked across the narrow road from the base lodge and were rewarded with a half-empty sports bar/restaurant.

“You know it’s a good day when you don’t stop for lunch until 1:30.”

More or less dried out and with clean goggles, we spent the final couple of hours exploring some trees on the front side. Judging by the map, we had barely scratched the surface of Kirkwood. Five inches of fresh snow will always produce a more favorable impression of a ski area, but there was agreement that it would be worth a return trip.

Now to start planning for next year’s big weekend. 

The Calm before the Storm

I was reminded recently – well, early in May – that I have a blog. It seems I have been more idle than usual.

I had an intention to revisit the north of Japan to volunteer once again and see firsthand how the recovery efforts were progressing. This has not happened. Instead, I found myself recently idling in Athens, Greece for a brief time.

The inevitable question arises when this piece of information is offered: “How is Greece?”

I think we will find out this weekend. For the moment, Greece is in political limbo. The inconclusive outcome of the last election, in which anti-austerity and seemingly anti-euro parties did best, but ultimately unable to form a viable government. The rematch is Sunday. The outcome will tell us how Greece is.

For the moment, Greece is calm. Fortunate enough to have been in Athens a few times over the past year, I can say it was much calmer now than eight months ago. In September last year while I was there, there were demonstrations in Syntagma square, strikes by bus drivers, train conductors, and taxi drivers. The center of the city was blocked. The day after I left, Molotov cocktails flew into buildings around the square.

This month, there was none of that. This time the square was bustling with tourists, the open air bars and cafes were packed. To be sure, there was nervousness that this year’s big shipping exhibition would be lightly attended, but this would appear to not be the case. The opulent parties that coincide with the biannual exhibition overflowed. As a Swede at one party said as the second Ferrari and third top-end Mercedes pulled up to the valet, “What crisis?”

Indeed, even away from the exhibition and events, bars and restaurants were lively with young Greeks. The Plaka was again full of tourists. The planes to and from Athens were full. In short, it was a lot like it was two summers ago – and without the threat of strikes.

What happens Sunday will tell us how Greece is. It may lead to a messy default and exit from the euro. It may bring back to power the parties that attempted to implement the austerity measures demanded by the EU and IMF, and which sparked the demonstrations. But for now, Athens is calm.

Ishinomaki, Miyagi Prefecture, Japan in early May

It is hard to put into words the range of emotions and experiences one goes through during a week of recovery volunteer work in Ishinomaki, Miyagi on the northeast coast of Japan. The world watched live on television as the March 11, 2011 earthquake and tsunami shattered towns along the coast. I won’t rehash that story here.

On the night of April 30^th I and a couple of guys from ball hockey climbed aboard a bus – one of nine departing that night – along with about 350 other volunteers for the overnight ride to Ishinomaki. Following all that an overnight bus ride on earthquake-roughened highways and the requisite stops to ensure an on-time arrival, we arrived bleary-eyed and stiff on the athletic practice fields of a university. This is where we would set up tents and camp for the week.

By mid-morning we were loaded on another bus and driven into the town itself. This was our first real look at the devastation the water had wrought. Along the cleared streets were mounds of timber, tatami mats, appliances, cars, boats, furniture, and everything else that can be imagined. Dust and dirt blanket the city. It was a quick and stark reminder that we had at most been slightly inconvenienced in Tokyo on March 11^th.

We were told the area of town in which we would work had been protected from most of the raw force of the wave by a large hill. The area of town in which we would work had suffered massive flooding as the tsunami waves had moved up the river. The water crested about the second story of the buildings here. Although spared the full impact of the waves, there was enough power to put boats into some buildings, cars into other buildings and completely destroy other buildings and scattering whatever was inside.

Our team of six armed ourselves every morning with scoops, wheelbarrows and sacks. Each morning we were assigned a place to clean. Over the course of the week, our team was assigned parks, an elderly couple’s home, piles of debris and drying sludge outside a hospital, the storm drains between buildings, a couple of bars, and parking lots. We spent two days in those bars, each measuring only about 20 feet by 20 feet and came out looking and smelling like we had been working on a malfunctioning oil pipeline. Our team had it easy.

Northwest Japan catches and processes a lot of fish. Over two days during the week we were there, four other teams cleared an estimated 17 tonnes of dry and rotting fish from a small area of town. They achieved a level of minor celebrity and great admiration in the camp, as well as national television and internet news coverage. They were all easily identifiable. They were Fish.

During our lunch on the second day in Ishinomaki, the owner of the house where we were clearing the garden took us up the hill that protected this part of town. From the top is the incredible view of the ocean and the destruction left behind the retreating waves. He told us of people who had climbed onto their roofs to escape the rising waters, only to have the roofs torn loose and taken a kilometer or more out to sea. For the lucky ones, the next wave brought them back. One of his neighbors had grabbed a tree which was perhaps two inches in diameter at its base and stood on two small knots in as he held on while the waters rose to his chest, just out of reach of a balcony on the house.

One day we got bicycles to ride from camp to the work site. During our lunch and again after finishing work, we took the short ride around the edge of the hill and into the heart of the tsunami zone. Words and pictures are inadequate to convey what we saw and felt. It is something that must be experienced firsthand to be understood.

Electricity is on in parts of the town, as is water. During that first week of May gas companies from around the country were working to check the lines and restore service. Businesses are beginning to reopen, although with limited stocks. We found and frequented the open fruit and vegetable shops. The residents of the town are rebuilding, and there is a sense that although they have suffered, they will rebuild. They are grateful for the volunteers, and generously shared food and coffee with us. They are optimistic about rebuilding, but they are worried that interest will fade and they will be left without volunteers to help the community.

We were there during the annual spring holidays of Golden Week. Peace Boat, the organization with which we went, had 350 volunteers, including 41 non-Japanese. The following week they had registered about half of that. The week after just 60.

Two members of my team will return for shorter trips next month. Two others are talking about returning in August. I will be looking for my own opportunities to return later in the year.

There are a number of organizations running volunteer programs throughout the affected areas. The links to information below are those with which I have had personal experience.

Peace Boat

AP Bank (Japanese only)

Second Harvest Japan

If you cannot volunteer, but still want to help, I suggest donating to the Red Cross or to Doctors without Borders, or to Second Harvest Japan.

Twilight in Tokyo

Tokyo received little direct damage from the March 11 earthquake and tsunami. Suburban areas, particularly Chiba seem to have been more directly affected. Rolling blackouts continue in the suburbs of the city, but the central part of Tokyo remains largely unaffected by these. Subways and trains in the city center are back nearly to their pre-earthquake schedules. 

Because so much of the Tokyo Electric Company’s (Tepco) generating capacity is offline, power shortages and the rolling blackouts are likely to continue for weeks, or more probably months. Train stations, department stores, grocery stores and other large retailers are keeping their lights dimmed, with their outdoor signs mostly off. The reduced hours many have kept for the past couple of weeks are inching back to their normal operating hours. Mom and pop restaurants have begun turning their signs back on at night. Whether the lessons of excessive power consumption have truly been learned is yet to be seen. 

There have been stories in the foreign press about the self-restraint that has taken hold in Japan. That is true to an extent. But the crowds in Shibuya on March 18^th did not appear any smaller for the lack of giant, blaring advertisements that usually light the main crossing there. The screeches that are supposedly singing coming from local karaoke bars in the wee hours of a weeknight would indicate not everyone has taken up this outlook. The lights may be down, but aisles of electronics retailers and bookstores have not seemed much off their typical size.

Restraint certainly has been encouraged by Tokyo’s governor and even local governments. This is traditionally the time of year when Japanese hold hanami parties, picnicking under the cherry blossoms in the parks. Signs have been erected by the Tokyo municipal government discouraging such behavior this year. In the idle monkey trainer’s neighborhood city officials (or their volunteer minions) distributed leaflets and politely asked those partaking in such parties – particularly those with alcohol – to show restraint. They even implied that those not showing restraint would be asked to stop drinking. Rather than revel in the new spring as usual, everyone is being told it is more appropriate to be mourning the victims to the north. These reflect the attitude of Governor Ishihara, who has had to retract his own remarks about the disasters being divine punishment for Japan’s ego and greed. (Sadly, such thoughts and statements probably will not prevent him from winning another term as governor in Sunday’s election.)

And despite the perfect weather for hanami this past Saturday, the park did seem a bit quieter than in years past. Perhaps there was less alcohol and food consumed. Maybe there was even a bit more reflection on the transcendence of life as witnessed in the fleeting beauty of the cherry blossoms – or cherry jello shots.

March 11 - 14, 2011

Just after 2:oo p.m. on a lovely early spring afternoon the shaking started. At first it seemed to be no more than the usual rocking, which is viewed with general nonchalance by the majority of residents. Then it kept going, and growing stronger. Concern began to creep into voiced thoughts. “Is it time to get under the desk?” “No. It’s better to get out.”

Outside the office building we stood on a narrow strip of road, feeling it sway beneath our feet like the deck of a ship at sea. Overhead we watched power lines sway and dance. The rocking lasted for several minutes, or at least what seemed to be several minutes. As it calmed the adrenalin kept coursing, creating uncertainty as to whether it was our bodies or the earth that was still shaking and swaying.

Aftershocks of various magnitudes followed quickly and frequently. On the eastern horizon plumes of black smoke stretched skyward. Phone service – both land and mobile – halted. SMS texts did not go through. We all turned to the internet, sending out flurries of e-mails and Facebook posts to keep in touch, to find out if friends and family were okay. The trains ceased running.

As evening rolled around and lesser tremors kept rolling, those with housing or places to stay within walking distance – a phrase that took on an expanded meaning – began their treks home. Power, fortunately, was still on. My own journey from my office took my largely against the flow of human (and vehicle) traffic. On the main thoroughfares cars waited patiently in unmoving lines. Throngs of people moved down the sidewalks. There was no shoving, no shouting. There was, as I have seen aptly described elsewhere, a melancholy calm in the crowds. A few people wore helmets, likely company provided. More often, the helmets were carried, in hand should the ground start moving again.

Convenience store shelves were stripped bare of instant foods – cup noodles, mostly – and ready to eat meals, rice balls and sandwiches by orderly lines of customers. By the next afternoon most grocery store shelves followed suit. Staples have become hard to come by. Water, milk, eggs, rice, batteries are in short supply.

Aftershocks continued through Friday night, waking people up on Saturday morning and keeping us up through Saturday night into Sunday morning. Another at about 10:00 a.m. Monday shook long enough to be eerily like the one that started it all Friday afternoon.

Images of the damage caused by the massive tsunamis that came ashore in Miyagi dominated the television, with focus shifting Saturday afternoon to exploding nuclear facilities.

Restaurants, bars and retailers opened more of less normally on Saturday, though without the normal Saturday trade. A few subway lines began running late Friday evening, others opened only again on Saturday with limited service. Ueno Park was quiet Saturday, but near brimming on the warm Sunday afternoon, as people looked more relaxed, walking around the lake, laughing, renting paddle boats, snacking from the usual food stands, watching seagulls try to steal food from a duck.

Most of the damage in the Tokyo metro area seems to be in the eastern part in Chiba, or at least the heaviest seems to be there. A refinery burned Friday. Disneyland is said to be closed for the week while they deal with a busted up parking lot and minor flooding. A friend reported taking a 20km hike Friday night back to his sodden neighborhood. In my neighborhood I saw only minor damage, including to a shrine in Ueno Park. A friend has said that his local grocery store is closed because of a damaged wall.

Monday morning train services were still limited as people started going back to work. Services will be spotty for a while as the Tokyo electric company proposes rolling blackouts be used to compensate for so many power generators being offline. The blackouts, however, have been put off for the time being as consumption has remained lower than expected. Some lines have not opened or have opened only for the morning and even rushes.

Decent information is hard to come by, in English anyway. In Japanese it is better since it can be taken straight from the source. CNN and BBC have the most dramatic aspects, but little else of use. The US embassy is sending out fairly regular warden messages with information and links to primary sources. Japanese television has kept near 24-hour coverage on all channels, with the exception of one that was at least for a while showing beautiful nature scenes from around the world and then a weight-loss program. Facebook, though it proved extremely useful in connecting with people can quickly become a source of incomplete or incorrect information. 

Shanghai World Expo

On a roasting hot September afternoon, the idle monkey trainer and a colleague grabbed a taxi for the nearest World Expo entrance, where we had to open our bags, then board an Expo bus for the 2-minute journey to the gates, where we had to go through airport-style security.

China

Once inside, it was immediately clear that we would not be visiting a lot of the pavilions. The line in front of the Japanese pavilion, a big pink building that resembled a pig for some reason, confirmed the rumors we’d heard; namely that waiting times wandered into multiple hours. Helpfully, there are digital signs around the Expo letting you know which pavilions are experiencing the longest waiting times. Inevitably China, Japan and the USA were pushing between four- and five-hour waits all day. The signs would also let you know of the shorter (less than an-hour-wait) lines at certain pavilions.

Since I have an aversion to waiting in any sort of line whatsoever, I was fully prepared to take the advice of a helpful website and skip the pavilions for their bars. (This also coincided nicely with my love of trying new beers.) 

We quickly put the system to the test, grabbing a quick bite of skewered meat from the Pakistan pavilion restaurant. 

This was followed up with a stop into the Australian restaurant and gift shop for a Crown Lager and a cheesy, crowd-pleasing overhead acrobatic show with a couple dressed as SCUBA divers. 

Back out in the heat and sunshine it did not take us long to find that Malta had a nice little café and a good beer. At this point, the idle monkey trainer was approached by the first of several locals who wanted pictures taken with a white guy. I should have charged – it could have offset the costs of the beer.

As we exited Malta’s air-conditioned café, we saw that there was no line at the pavilion across the way, and decided we had to hit up at least one. Albania’s pavilion was a single room with a few murals showing beautiful views, and a gift shop that was exactly one display case long. They also had a wishing fountain. Happy that we had made a pavilion, we headed back out into the heat. As luck would have it, Georgia also had no line, so we got a second pavilion marked off. The Georgians used their one-room space to heavily promote their wine and skiing.

As we walked on, Peru beckoned with their strategically placed sidewalk café. A good beer and a meat pie later, we were off again, heading toward Brazil and the promise of a good cocktail. Sadly, AB InBev had the concession and were offering up only local favorites Budweiser and Corona. The same was true for the USA pavilion opposite. Nevermind, we thought, and headed out toward South Africa, via Argentina, who had a gorgeous restaurant in order to promote their own wines.

Not seeing what we were after at South Africa we instead headed into the African pavilion for a quick trip around the continent and rows of market stalls. Also, plenty of stuffed Gorillas.

But no beverages and we were getting thirsty. We headed back to the more reliably imbibing nations of Europe, where Germany’s outside stage was quiet and the bar area boisterous.  Hofbrau Dark hit the spot, but tired of standing room only, we launched out for the Netherlands' Happy Street, fake grass, canals and sheep. 

Naturally, Heineken was king here, so it was a quick one and off again. 

Belgium, we thought, would provide a good brew and bar. Remarkably, we had to actually walk all around the building to the back side to find a concession with beer. 

This proved to work out well, however, since as we sat street-side with our beers, we could watch the Latvians sky-diving simulating pavilion closing show.

Feeling pretty good, if a bit tired, we decided to walk through the rather depressing halls of the Red Cross & Red Crescent Socities’ pavilion. From there it was a short walk to the tropical islands and wooden canoes of the South Pacific nations, before a final pavilion in the form of Indonesia, which despite three-hour waits during the heat of the day was remarkably open and easy to enter after dark, in spite of the live band playing at the entrance. (China and Japan still had long lines as we made for the exit.)

Let's Dance!

The Asakusa area of Tokyo is normally associated with “traditional” Japan. It was the Ginza before Ginza came up. It was the Edo-era nightlife district. It’s still strongly associated with festivals like the Sanja Matsuri (one of the three largest festivals in Japan). Yet, for some reason, for the last 30 years it has been home to the Asakusa Samba Festival.

Each August, samba teams – some led by Brazilian, but mainly comprised of Japanese dancers – take over two large streets to parade their floats, dancers and corporate sponsors for the throngs who crowd onto the small sidewalks. (The throngs, incidentally, are made up primarily of men in their late 40’s or older with long telephoto lens-equipped cameras.)

Participating teams obviously spend a great deal of time on the design and construction of their floats and costumes. Some are obviously beholden to (or perhaps employed by) corporate sponsors such as Asahi Beer (a major sponsor of anything that happens in Asakusa given their head office sits across the river) and Pocari Sweat.

Other teams’ concepts were harder to guess the relationship to anything samba/Brazilian. For instance, the Cleopatra dancers (though they must be given credit for sticking close to the theme and being the only team to have “slaves” pushing their float rather than using a truck).

And, this one, which the idle monkey trainer cannot even fathom a guess as to its meaning.

The Asakusa Samba Festival is held the last weekend of August.
(And, now, because they would eventually be requested by the readership, here are a couple more shots.)