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.)

Hossosawa Waterfall

In the western end of Tokyo’s administrative district lies Hinohara Village – the last “village” in Tokyo. Generally the term village in Japan is reserved for small communities. Despite having exceeded the generally accepted population of a village some time ago, Hinohara has kept the designation, doubtless for marketing purposes. That said, Hinohara looks like no other part of Tokyo – more of a small town nestled in the foothills.

One of the attractions of Hinohara, and the Okutama region to which it belongs, is the Hossawa Waterfall. 

Not the biggest waterfall by any means, it is situated in a lush box canyon at the end of an easy and short trail. From the bus stop or parking lot, make your way past the craft store, ice cream shop, a van selling Potato Burgers and another craft shop, then follow the rest of the trail along the stream with all the other people. Although it was not overly crowded, it was not a place one was going to find complete tranquility in which to ponder the deeper questions of life.

Potato burger, vegetarian version

Being a fan of natural beauty (and natural beauties) and not a fan of large crowds, it was heartening not to be there the weekend of August 21 for the local summer festival. The festival taking place that weekend is highlighted by the lighting of the waterfall in multiple colors – pink, blue, yellow, etc. The trail looked to be readied for the lighting with a string of – at the time at least – bare light bulbs just above head height.

That aside, it is a pleasant area worth a visit, though given the distance and transportation requirements (about 1.5 hours on a train and another 25 – 30 minutes on a bus) it is probably best to combine it with other hikes in the area. 

(The hike was done in mid-August.)

Monkey Prison

Near Kinugawa Onsen station in the hills of Tochigi Prefecture is a ropeway which will ferry passengers up a few hundred vertical meters to a “monkey sanctuary”. It appears more to be a monkey prison.

 (The idle monkey trainer was under the mistaken impression it was more of a wilderness preserve in which monkeys lived.)

Stepping from the tram car, one is assaulted instantly with the stench of close-quartered monkeys. Visitors to the facility are ushered into a small path extending into the monkey prison yard. Through the double layer of chain-link fence visitors may feed the monkeys by extending food pellets (conveniently for sale in the visitors’ area, of course) using a wooden stick. 

The monkeys climb all over the fences, the roof and each other, positioning for attention and food. They extend their forelegs through the fences, forlorn expressions on their faces. They pull and bite on the fencing, bounce and scream. The larger, more dominate monkeys exert their influence in the group to chase off younger, smaller rivals for the pellets, while (human) children squeal with delight and pull back the sticks so they can try to get pellets to the younger, cuter monkeys.

There are hiking trails up the mountain and around the top, which could have helped salvage the afternoon. But, an apparent infestation of mountain leeches put a stop to that. Having never encountered a mountain leech, the idle monkey trainer was somewhat surprised to learn that (1) leeches inhabit mountains and not just waterways, and (2) that the bite of the mountain leech is apparently very painful and results in lots of bleeding. It was strongly suggested that walking the trails in shorts and sandals would be a very bad idea. Apparently the staff at the top of the tram had already encountered hikers that morning suffering from multiple leech bites.

Instead, the idle monkey trainer returned to the public hot spring in front of the train station to soak his feet and enjoy a drink. And where the drunken security guard informed him that although the pump had been shut off at five o’clock he was welcome to stay as long as the water was warm, and repeatedly that the security guard had been attending a summer festival at which he was given several free beers, presumably including the one he was carrying around at the time. 


(The monkey prison was visited in August.)

It's a Small World

Tobu World Square is a sort of model-builder’s dream. Landmark buildings and architectural feats from around the world are rendered to a maximum 1:25 scale. Included in this collection in the hills of Tochigi Prefecture about two hours from Tokyo are the great pyramids of Egypt, the Great Wall of China, the Parthenon of Greece, palaces and castles too numerous to list from western Europe and a Manhattan scene.

The models are detailed and include human figures in most to help show the scale. The exceptions to this general rule are the Great Wall, Angkor Wat and the models of older Japanese temples and shrines. 

Among the models from Japan are Tokyo station in its original glory, but complete with express trains and the shinkansen pulling in and out of the station, Narita airport with taxiing aircraft, and Yokohama Bay with boats making circuitous routes and moving traffic on the bay bridge, and Tokyo’s newest – and yet unfinished – “attraction” the Tokyo Sky Tree (that for some reason billows smoke/mist and bubbles).

Although the models are to varying scale, the world is not. The view from Yokohama Bay looks onto lower Manhattan, which consists of the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building and the World Trade Center, with a brief notation about the latter’s destruction.

 It also includes a couple of street scenes. This is where things take a bit of a break from the general theme of the models.

Most of the models from Europe and Tokyo show bustling scenes in front of the buildings, parties and dancing in Europe’s palace courtyards. For reasons not explained on any signs, the New York Street scene shows on one side of a building a horrific car accident, complete with a body being removed. On the other side of the building the scene shows a bank robbery in progress. To an American friend, this raised a couple of questions: Why single out New York City (the only model from the U.S. – or the Americas for that matter) to include negative events? If you are going to include negative elements and negative perceptions of a city, why are there no train officials with a blue tarp hurriedly clearing the latest body from the Chuo Line in Tokyo? Where were the pick-pockets working the crowds of tourists in front of Europe’s cathedrals? (Or perhaps these were too subtle to notice.)

PS. I would like to thank the little Japanese boy who gleefully pointed out the bank robbery scene.

(This post is a couple months overdue.) 

Views of Pike National Forest, Colorado, USA

The idle monkey trainer spent a few days idling around the mountains of Colorado recently. 

The Log Ride

The Onabashira festival is dubbed by its promoters as “one of the three most interesting festivals in Japan.” And indeed it is interesting. Not knowing what the other two, or indeed what a number of Japanese festivals, are like, however, I cannot fully agree or disagree. That it is one of the most dangerous seems plainly obvious. Perhaps this is why they only run it once ever seven years. (It has also been suggested that it is run so rarely because of the scarcity of trees that can provide logs of the appropriate size and straightness. Of course, they have been running it for the past 1200 years.)

The main attraction of this festival is watching a number of men mount a 16-meter, one-ton log to ride down the mountain.  With due pomp the log is presented and hangs precariously over the mountain’s lip. Teams line the sides of the run with ropes in hand, ready to pull against a single counter-rope at the top.

When the time is right, the log is released with the swing of an axe. Like a North Korean topodong, the log pitches quickly forward and begins its downward plunge. For a moment those on the ropes continue to pull, helping propel the log down the hill. Within seconds, however, the log has passed most of them and is subject to the whims of gravity and earth. It stops only as the front of the log slams into the flattening hill. The small valley below, lined with seats safely below the road and across the river, erupts with cheers. Emergency responders rush in as needed.

Once at the bottom the long ropes are laid out down the road, and participants commence dragging the log down to the staging area, about two kilometres away, where it will wait along with the others from the weekend to be moved to and raised at the shrine next week. One then assumes quiet returns to this little town for the next six years.

Another Wander Through the Woods

On the final day of January, I took my hangover for a walk through part of Big Thicket National Preserve. The two-hour drive from Houston was not one I would characterize as enjoyable or particularly interesting (though that could be partly a side affect of the hangover). It was rewarded, however, with blue skies and temperatures in the upper sixties. And a buffet lunch at Mama Jack's.

Big Thicket is a sprawling piece of the National Park System and rather disjointed. The Kirby Nature Trail, and at least the first part of the Turkey Creek Trail and Sand Hill Loop Trail, are all well maintained and easy to follow.

There are also a number of wooden walkways taking you over the swamps and drainages (bafflingly with an apparent randomness of numbering).

There are also a great number of downed trees throughout, exposing their roots and providing plenty of space for moss and mushrooms.

Into the Woods

I was once told that you generally have to drive three hours from Houston to get to the interesting stuff. Proving that is only a slight exaggeration, Sam Houston National Forest lies just an hour north of Houston. Turning off the highway, the view suddenly changes from strip malls and chain restaurants to thick forests and lake views.

The forest hosts a portion of the Lone Star Trail, a 128-mile hiking trail that traverses the state, as well as a myriad of other hiking and multiple use trails.

The trails on which I wandered today were closed to horses and motorized vehicles due to muddy conditions on the trails. There was no word of warning regarding the downed trees that crossed the trail.

These were muddy of a sort, under the few inches of water anyway. But, such are the hazards of walking trails in an area that gets 55 inches of rain annually. It is well worth the effort for the quiet and solitude.

(Dis?)Honoring Elvis

Last night I heard an interesting tale:
Some time last week, presumably on the King's birthday, an Elvis impersonator took the stage of a local Houston bar. During his doubtless heartfelt rendition of Teddy Bear, "Elvis" tossed teddy bears to the cheering throngs of women in the audience (many of whom had probably seen the King in his prime). All very touching.



Until he finished the song. At that point, he took back his teddy bears.

Following his show, he set up on the stage a couple of photographers to take shots of a young boy being tossed a teddy bear from the stage. He naturally made sure to get that bear back. Sadly, there was no video of that night.

Scott's Bluff

On the final Sunday of 2009, the idle monkey trainer headed north and east into "God's Country" as my host and guide often calls it. On maps it is known as Scottsbluff.

Towering over the town is Scotts Bluff National Monument. The bluff rises quickly to 800 feet above the surrounding prairie. The afternoon proved to be a good one for a visit, the strong winds having cleared sky and provided views well  into Wyoming.

 Wyoming is out there.

The bluff, and the town, take their name from a fur trader clerk who died near the bluff in 1828. A memorial to him sits on top of the bluff, which is reachable by a 2-mile walking trail that winds up bluff. This trail, I was told, was also used by the high school cross country team for training, with the requisite hurdling of rattle snakes. It is also accessible by the easier (because you can drive up it) road from the visitor center.

The view from the top, looking down over the walking trail.

The bluff was a well-recognized spot along the Oregon Trail, later the Mormon Trail, and the Pony Express routes. Wagon ruts, along with replica wagons, are still visible along the base of the bluff.

Looking over the Oregon Trail.

One final note: If you are interested in exploring what nightlife there is in Scottsbluff, a wintry Sunday evening is not the time to do it. Other than a car of cruising teenagers, the downtown area was deserted and left to the snow.

Welcome to the Year of the Tiger

Happy New Year!