Chugei

Just a small note about Chugei.

Chugei refers to the collection of five villages surrounding Tano (including Tano). Umaji, Kitagawamura, Yasuda, Tano, and Nahari are collectively a little nexus against the big bag blankness that lies between Nahari and Muroto and Yasuda and Aki. There are other cities out there, they just don't matter much. It's a question of sotto vs uchi. That's for another time.

Apparently this little group used to be the logging center of here. I didn't understand it all or even much of it, but there used to be an impressive train track via which the massive logs were carted down the mountains out to the seaside, probably to be made into disposable chopsticks. I jest. That's what the Amazon Rain-forest is for. (google spell-check made me hyphenate "rainforest"...) 

This year was the 100th anniversary of the railroading-logging-five-villages connection and Tano hosted a little festival in honor of all the dead trees. We had a tiny miniature railroad and a little Blue train that could, but it could only go straight. When it hit the end of the track, it simply shifted into reverse and came back. 

We also had a visit from a few of the anime characters who make up our train-line. Each train stop has

a little guy to help you remember which is your stop. Tano's is a blue samurai. Nahari's is a conductor-chick. And Yasuda's is a fellow with a fish on his hat. 

And of course we had a visit from Nakaoka Shintaro from Kitagawamura. He looks quite frightful. 

That's all.

Woo-Hoo!

Or "Power Cords, Shrine-climbing and Ramen". 

I got my power cord in the mail this afternoon (thanks mom!) and upon returning to my humble abode, plugged in the ol' パソコン and started downloading pictures. I must soon buy an external hard-drive, but not just yet. I am so running out of room for all my pics and some of my tv shows. 

Shrine-climbing. 

Shrines are everywhere in Japan, and more especially in rural Japan, and MORE especially on Shikoku, the island of the 88-temple pilgrimage (88 keys on a piano, right....). Pilgrims are abundant, and shrines are prolific, even if that"s not quite the right way to use "prolific". You can't swing a dead cat without hitting a dish of incense or a tiny bottle of sake wrapped in an ancient and weathered red handkerchief. Or sometimes just a random stone draped with some tinselly-looking wires. On a typical bike ride, I probably pass by about 25 different shrines that I notice, and probably many more that I don't see because I am focused on teaching myself to ride with no hands on the handlebars. It's a very small town and there's not a lot to do. 

In Yasuda, the next tiny town over, they have a very famous pilgrimage-worthy shrine up an endless mountain. My bicycle and I tried to find this shrine and instead we ran into a pilgrim who told us it was really quite far still, yo! And we turned around.

But on my way home, I ran into another shrine. Or the bottom of one. 

You can see it was a bit of a hike up to that little gate-like arch. 

And here are some shots from the actual steps up which I dragged myself. (Mind you, this is all after having climbed the insurmountable mountain with my little black bicycle. My calves have never looked so good.)

looking up

looking down

Almost there

The view from above

It was a very nice view, although the scenery around me was mostly in its end-of-summer-not-yet-drowned-by-typhoon-browns-greens-and-yellows stage. But you could certainly see quite a ways. And if the tsunami had come at exactly this moment, I would have been perfectly safe. Stranded in the woods with mosquitos and pilgrims, but un-drowned. 

And last, some ramen. 

I did not use to be much of a fan of ramen. When my sister was last in Tokyo, she took me to a little ramen joint that changed my world view as it looks at ramen. This has made me much more open-minded about the ramen experience and so now when my friend Saya from 北川村 asks me if I like ramen, I reply steadily, believing in things I have only partially seen, Yes. 

Salt ramen: before

Salt ramen: after