Road-tripping along Route 42

I’ve never been a huge fan of tiki-touring (traipsing) around the countryside.  I’m a terrible passenger.  If I’m not driving, every little thing starts to bug me.  Cramped spaces, mindless chatter, irritating music, and weird smells can destroy any chance of a memorable time for me.  And to top it all off, I get motion sickness.  

A few weeks ago I agreed to go with some people for a spot of sightseeing.   We were planning to head to a place called Tategasaki.  I’d had a quick nosey on the internet, and found some wonderful pictures of this rocky formation, with big beautiful waves lapping up its’ sides.  The colour of the ocean reminded me of and this might sound a bit odd, the colour of the water in the toilet bowl, when you put that blue disc in the cistern and it turns the water into a cartoonish indigo blue colour.  Of course unlike the sea, the colour fades with every flush.  Hmmmm, it’s probably just me then.    

So as the day drew closer, I began to consider our mode of transport.  I soon realised that we’d all be stuck together for several hours in someone’s van.  My excitement of the impending trip quickly evaporated.  I wonder if they’d let me drive?  Maybe.  Probably. Definitely not.  Maybe I could nod off for a few hours and wake up when we arrive?  Even I would be offended if someone I just met did that. 

Again, the language barrier hit me smack in the face.  What will we talk about? Will they understand me? Will I understand them? It’s these situations which make me rue the lack of self-directed study on my part to learn Japanese.  I’ve been happily coasting along, throwing out phrases here and there (mispronounced and out of context most times), but mostly relying on others to translate for me.  If you ever come to Japan and you intend on working and living here, do yourself a huge favour, and learn the language. 

However, all these worries amounted to nothing (as they usually do in my case).  I had a great time with these people.  We were a party of six, consisting of my friend, ‘Bridget’, her boyfriend, ‘Pete’, and three people I’d only just met that morning.  ‘Dave’ was Pete’s best friend.  He was accompanied by his wife, ‘Mary’ and their 15 year old daughter, ‘Lucy’.  Both Bridget and Dave were fairly competent in conversational English.  There were a few misfires throughout the day that fortunately we all laughed about.  Several things I had said got lost in translation and a few times I just nodded without really knowing what was being told to me.  I’m sure it was the same for them as well.  We soon found some common ground though.

We all hopped into Dave’s 7 seater (such a big car for a family of three, I thought) and set off down the road.  Pete and Dave kept us entertained, and I understood bits and pieces of their conversation and thankfully laughed at the same time everyone else did.  I think they actually tried to talk at a slower pace and added in English words here and there to help me along.  I was very grateful for the attempt at inclusion. 

After a while the road began to incline more sharply.  The next few kilometres were up, around, and through the mountains.  I hate roads like that and so does my stomach.  As we rounded what seemed like the 6^th or 7^th corner, Pete and Dave chimed in with the perfect melody line, ‘the long and winding road’.  Ah, Beatles fans. We just hit common ground and the laughs were a great distraction and kept me from casting up my breakfast. 

Dave insisted on playing his CD collection, which comprised of English albums by well known English artists.   I knew once again it was for my benefit and was grateful to be cruising along to music I could sing to.  I turned excitedly to Bridget at the beginning of each song to ask if she knew it.  She would smile and say ‘no’, although she was very pleased for me that I did.   

You learn a great deal about people from the music they listen to.  These guys were into the Rolling Stones, Queen, Eric Clapton, Wings, Police, Hall and Oates, Abba and of course the legendary Beatles. These guys were Rockers!  They joined in the choruses and even incorporated a bit of Japanese for the lines they didn’t know. It was hilarious.  You would never guess it to look at them.   Stranger still was listening to Mariah Carey’s Greatest Hits (of all things), as we were negotiating the many twists and turns along the narrow mountain road.  Music easily traverses cultural barriers and unites all kinds of different characters. 

Out of nowhere, Pete asks me about the line, ‘Domo Arigato, Mr Roboto’ from Styx.  ‘Do you know?’ he says.  Um, yeah? I never ever thought I’d be asked about that from an actual Japanese person though.  What do the Japanese think of that line? It’s crazy how popular that phrase is.  The translation is a simple thank you to a fictional character, who answers to the name of Mr Roboto.  But when a non-Japanese person says it and usually in a joking way, is that offensive? I wasn’t sure.  I’ve always thought of it as a ridiculously harmless song.  But then again how do I feel when I hear or read Japanese English?  Does it offend me when it makes no sense? No, not really.  Most times it’s a bit of a laugh, and kind of cute.  

So finally we arrive to the spot where we must leave the air-conditioned comforts of our Van and go by foot the rest of the way.  I’m told the trail takes about 30 minutes.  It’s approximately 10.20am at this point.  Once out in the open, everyone immediately noticed that the temperature had risen quite significantly.  24 degrees was supposed to be the high today and I think it was safe to say that we’d already reached it. 

The trail was great and I have to say I was impressed that the small forest animals had heeded the memo I sent out a week before and politely kept their distance, remaining well hidden until we left.

When we finally arrived at our destination, dripping with sweat before lunchtime no doubt, we were far from disappointed.  Tategasaki is simply breathtaking.  To me it’s the Japanese Version of the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland.  Nothing comes close to Nature, when she gets the creative juices flowing.  

Tategasaki means shield or at least the first part of the word does anyway.  Whether it’s because it resembles a shield or is some kind of symbolic ‘protection’ for the area, I’m not quite sure.  It’s a rock formation of vertical stone columns jutting out at varying heights, the top covered with some lush vegetation.  Overall the sight is magnificent.  I mean it’s so beautifully untouched, as you can only go so far before the rest of the way is cordoned off, and there are no idiots in Japan, idiotic enough to jump the barrier.   On a clear summer’s day, it’s quite lovely.   I think there are boats that can take you there, but it doesn’t look all that safe.  While the waves crashing up against the rocks look amazing from a distance, I would imagine that up close they'd be a bit dangerous!
    

As we were walking along, Bridget, Mary and Lucy became fascinated by several pools of water that had some recently hatched tadpoles swimming in them.  Pete told me that they were ‘Frog children’.  That’s a great example of Japanese English and I’m not in the least bit offended.  Technically he is correct.  We have those at home too.  They smile and I walk away laughing. 

After a few minutes of ‘gazing’ and snapping photos we returned to the trail and headed back to the car, bound for Kumano.  We stopped for a quick bite to eat before setting off again for Nachi Falls in Wakayama Prefecture.  It’s about an hour and half away by car, although it didn’t feel like a long ride at all.   I was particularly excited about going there, as I’d seen some pictures on the internet of the Falls and a three storey pagoda nearby.

   

We walked through the big Torii gate, the entrance to the Shrine where the Falls were.  Sightseeing in Japan is a whole new experience for those not used to walking significant distances.  Nowhere in Japan have I been to visit a site where it was easy to get to.   One does not simply ‘drive thru’.  Usually you have to walk a fair bit, cross bridges, ascend and descend steps, and sometimes even bypass the local wildlife before finally arriving at your destination.  This standard mini endurance test makes the destination all that more worthwhile to see, once you finally get there, of course.

From the very top of the stone steps, you already have a splendid view of the gently cascading Falls.  Once you reach the proper viewing platform at the bottom, you can then fully appreciate just how high the Falls are.  This is reportedly the highest falls in Japan.  While it isn’t the highest I’ve ever seen, it is still a remarkable sight to see, and well worth the trip.  There’s a definite ‘serenity’ about the place, and at the very end of the platform, facing the Falls, the second Torii gate is firmly rooted and you obviously can go no further.  I’d never seen that before, a gate that you can’t actually pass through.  If you did try, you’d end up in the water, presumably get fished out by the locals before being smartly escorted off the premises I’d say. 

I stand there surrounded by the smell of incense burning and watch as several people are praying nearby, or reading their Omikuji (fortune purchased for 100 yen).  Some people look to be extremely excited, while others are quite subdued.  I guess they were hoping for better fortunes.  The great thing about this whole process is that you can easily get rid of a two-bit fortune, as the wind will happily take it away for you.  Tie it on the stand provided, ask for it to be gone, and then be content that your life will not follow that ill-gotten path. 

I had never purchased an Omikuji before, because it’s written in Kanji/Hiragana but after much urging from the group, I selected one for myself.  Pete opened it and told me that I had been granted a ‘little happiness’.  That sounded okay to me, I guess.  He quickly scanned the piece of paper, and as I waited for my ‘little happiness’ to materialise I noticed his look of concentration quickly evaporating only to be replaced by a frown that had me fairly concerned.  When I asked him what the Omikuji foretold, he told me to tie the fortune to the stand, and everything would be alright.  Come again?  The others looked on and smiled stiffly at me, and told me not to worry.  Worry about what? All I got in response was ‘It’s okay’. 

No one wanted to be the bearer of bad news and I most certainly did not want to be in receipt of any.  Oh well, no need to worry, it left with the wind right?

The kindness and generosity of Japanese people is truly humbling.  If you come from a ‘user pays’ mentality, it is difficult at first to be on the receiving end of such gestures.  I spent approximately 500 yen yesterday which is about $6 NZ dollars.  My lunch, my dinner, the petrol there and back, and my Omikuji (even that) was all paid for by the goodwill of my travel companions.  I mean, I was even given an Omiyage which is a souvenir gift you usually buy for family, close friends or neighbours that stayed home.  All I needed to do was pass it on and they would be none the wiser, assuming that I bought it for them.  How ridiculously awesome is that?

One thing I’ve tried to learn in Japan is how to accept the generosity of others, to show them sincere gratitude in return, and to stop and do NO MORE.  Enter and exit the transaction.   

Japan is a culture that just keeps on giving.   So, you have to adapt to how things are done here.  They also show tremendous humility when accepting kindnesses from others, and as a giver, you’re left feeling really good about yourself!  Everybody wins, when you have the right attitude instead of trying to compensate somehow and messing up the whole thing.  You’re not running up a debt, and they’re certainly not collecting on one.  

When someone chooses to be nice to you (and I’m only talking about when you’re in Japan, in this type of situation), I don’t believe that there is any expectation attached on their part that you are now obligated to return the favour at some stage. 

There have been times where I’ve felt guilty over someone’s generosity, and frankly that’s not their problem.  It’s mine. 

Too often we become willing passengers on some kind of self-imposed, misplaced guilt trip that we end up undermining the good deed that was done to us.  Why can’t we just convey our heartfelt thanks and leave it at that?  It’s not supposed to be a game of one-upsmanship. 

We all bring something to the table.  Does that also imply that what we bring must be of equal value to each other, so no one feels bad? We’ve got to learn how to accept the kindness of others.  Today you’re a recipient.  Tomorrow you might be a donor.  You’ve got to learn how to be comfortable in both roles as it’s inevitable that you will have many opportunities in life to play each one.

All in all it was a great day out, with some truly wonderful, kind-hearted people. 

Road-tripping the Japanese way certainly has its advantages.  Everything is purposeful.  There’s no mucking around, no straying, no flaking out.  You go from A to B and back again, and that’s how I like it.  Of course there’s a time for throwing caution to the wind, but there’s also a lot of sense in having a plan and sticking to it, satisfied that at the end of the day you achieved what you set out to do.    

I’m hopeful that they’ll let me drive next time.