Who is Kobo Daishi?

The man who started it all. And by all I mean Shingon Buddhism.

Monk, teacher, scholar, artist, folk hero, engineer, frickin Public Administrator. . .much like El Santo, it is easier to say what Kobo Daishi isn't then to try to list his many titles and accomplishments. There simply isn't a parallel to him in American history, but if you mashed together Benjamin Franklin and Paul Bunyan, and then a dash of Joseph Smith minus the polygamy, you basically have the American equivalent of Kobo Daishi. His shadow can be seen everywhere in the land of the rising sun.

Born in 774 in Sanuki province to middling aristocratic parents, his childhood name was Mao, or True Fish. Awesome, that's similar to my self-applied Native American name, Sinking Fish! If you believe all the tall tales about Kobo Daishi, he was basically born already at Arahat level, which is just a step away from enlightenment, and supposedly could already summon moderately powerful spirits from the Buddhist pantheon before he was in middle school. But even without the embellishment, the boy who was to become a saint showed talent early, excelling in Chinese classics and calligraphy. He went to the government university to prepare for life as a bureaucrat, but he became disillusioned with the petty minutiae of civic codes. He began to follow his true calling: a life devoted to the pursuit of enlightenment.

Unfortunately, the government approved Buddhist temples of the time held no answers for the young scholar. He decided to pursue an ascetic lifestyle, wandering from place to place as a penniless monk, and pushing himself to ever greater austerities. While chanting for weeks in a cave on the Muroto coastline, he had a strange vision: the morning star descended from heaven and went into his mouth. Personally I would take that as an excuse to take a crapload of aspirin and call in sick for a week, but for him it was an auspicious sign. He took the new name Kukai, which means sea and sky. There's actually a sumo wrestler named that right now!

Years of chanting sutras in the wilderness gave Kukai both incredible willpower and astonishing memory, both skills that would prove useful in his next adventure: a trip to China to learn about Esoteric/Orthodox Buddhism from the Buddhist sage Hui-kuo. Nasty storms aside, Kukai made it to China in one piece and began what was planned to be a 20 year residence studying the tenets of this ancient Buddhist sect. But it was not to be. His master Hui-kuo was already old, and he knew that his life would end soon. They hit the books hard, and Kukai mastered his study of ancient Buddhism in a manner of months. And they all said chanting was a waste of time, pffft. Kukai returned to Japan as the 8th patriarch of Esoteric Buddhism, which in Japan is known as Shingon Buddhism, or the True Word sect. True dat.

Though tall tales surround Kukai's entire life, it is during his adult years that the stories really get out of control. Most of the temples have at least one legend about Kukai connected to them: on Shosanji, he subdued a fire breathing serpent; at another temple, he struck the ground with his staff and created a well that cures blindness; at yet another site, he found a sacred amulet that he threw FROM CHINA and decided to establish a temple on the spot! But once again, even without the tall tales, his life is a testament to faith, compassion, and achievement. Kukai is credited with inventing the written language of Japan. As opposed to Chinese characters, this writing system is an alphabet, so that people without the money for a formal education could express themselves in written form. He supervised construction of a reservoir in his home province which is still used to this day, 1300 years later! He started a school that provided an education to anyone, regardless of social or financial standing. (This school was dismantled 10 years after Kukai's death. Stupid bureaucrats.) And his crowning achievement was the establishment of the mountain retreat at Mount Koya, which to this day remains the headquarters of Shingon Buddhism. A hundred years after his supposed death, Kukai was given the posthumous title Kobo Daishi, or Great Saint Who Spread the Doctrine, and it is by this name he is most commonly referred.

Wait, did that say supposed death? Yes, you read that right. Hardcore followers of Shingon Buddhism believe that Kobo Daishi did not die, but in fact entered a state of extremely deep eternal meditation. He will remain in this state until the coming of the future Buddha, at which time I guess he'll kick off that pesky death thing and go back to his old ways, wandering and teaching and chanting all over the countryside. I'm not sure I can 100% say that it'll go down like that. That being said, I can indeed feel his influence right here beside me on every step of this pilgrimage, helping me up when I fall, and smacking me in the noggin when I do something stupid. He`s my kind of saint.

 

Kobo Daishi travels with you

And he don't take no jibba jabba.

The pilgrim uniform consists of several items. There's the hat, which I lost somewhere. I'll get another one at the next temple. There`s the Buddhist rosary beads, which I've pimped out into a dual bead matrix/military tribute necklace thing. I'll post a picture when I find some damn wifi. There's the white pilgrim coat, which has a dual meaning. While white symbolizes purity and truth, it is also the color of death in Japan; thus, donning the white coat means that a pilgrim is ready to die in pursuit of enlightenment on this quest. Lol, I wouldn't say I`m that hardcore. There`s the Buddhist man purse, which carries random items, as well as the all important stamp book that proves you've visited each temple. And finally, there`s the kongo-tsue, aka the Kobo Daishi walking stick.

Kobo Daishi is the founder of Shingon Buddhism, and the kongo-tsue staff is the embodient of his will and soul that travels with you every step of the pilgrimage. As you would expect, there are some rules for how you are supposed to use the thing.
1. When you stop to rest, make sure the staff is taken care of before yourself. It's easier to prop it up against a log or something before you take your pack off anyway, so this comes naturally.
2. When you cross a bridge, don`t tap the staff on the path. This is due to a story that when Kobo Daishi was in the city of Ozu, all the guesthouses were full and no one would open their home to him, so he had to sleep under a bridge. I think in Ozu they have a festival where they put blankets and comforters on a Kobo Daishi statue, but let`s be honest: they're never gonna live that diss down.
3. Wash the tip of the staff with water before you go inside a building and put it in the alcove or umbrella holder. This was sort of a big deal in Tokushima where the pilgrimage began, but in the later provinces they don`t have a bucket out for this purpose, so whatever.
4. In general, treat the staff with respect.

Some times I talk to the staff, Full Metal Jacket style. No, I haven't given it a name. (But only because it already has one.) Let me explain. I'm spending massive parts of the day walking by myself up in the mountains, on the side of highways, or on random trails through rice fields and such. I get a little lonely, and a little crazy, so I just think out loud, or sing songs, or imagine what a conversation between myself and Vin Diesel would be like. I inevitably let slip a cuss word or two during these monologues, at which point I promptly apologize to the staff, just a simple "Sorry." In fact, I apologize to the staff A LOT, because I screw up a lot. I lean the staff against a tree and it falls, I tap the staff while walking across a bridge, I recite the cheeseburger scene from Pulp Fiction, etc. Sorry, sorry, sorry. As long as you apologize, its okay. But if you do something really dumb, Kobo Daishi will punish you.

Despite my pre-pilgrimage fantasies of walking from town to town fighting crime as a wandering staff-wielding vigilante, the kongo-tsue makes for a crummy weapon. It`s made of cheap wood, it`s balanced all wrong, and it's square, which means if you hit something with it, the corners will jab into your palm. Its sole purpose is to help you on your journey to enlightenment, a tool of peace. That said, it is acceptable to use it to defend yourself in an emergency, usually against some snakes on the side of the road, or to clear the path of spiderwebs and such. However, on the trail to temple 45, I started to get overzealous. I was going full kung fu and using the staff to smack some shrubs that were slightly blocking the path. I switched to a backhand grip for maximum ninja power, and let one of the bushes have it at full strength. However as I completed the swing, the other end of the staff circled around and THWACKED me right in the noggin! Ouch!!! Oh man, Kobo Daishi just bonked me on the head with his cane for acting like a dumbass! It was like the scene in Kill Bill Part 2 where Pai Mei hits Uma Thurman every time she screws up her kung fu exercises. While I was honored to be personally scolded by the founder of Shingon Buddhism, I got the message, and finally left the shrubs alone. When I got to the next temple, I put a little extra money in the offering box as penance for being such an idiot.

And things have been going great since then! If you apologize, and you mean it, its okay. Just stop acting like an idiot, or Kobo Daishi will smack you. He`ll smack you out of love and compassion, but he will smack you. Just saying.

 

A Day in the Life of a Pilgrim

"Walk from place to place, meet people, get in adventures." Jules Winnfield, Pulp Fiction

I planned to do a post of this sort a while ago, but since the adventure went haywire last week due to injuries and family quests, every day has been so different that there wasn't really a consistent itinerary to each day. Nevertheless, a general pattern has emerged in the way my days are going on the trail.

5-6am: Wake up. I usually don't move out of bed until its absolutely necessary around 6. Note that although this sounds early, they don't do daylight savings time in Japan, so by the time 6am rolls around the sun has been up in the sky for more than an hour and its already super bright out.

6-7am: Breakfast and packing up. I was starting to believe in the Japanese breakfast for a while. This consists of miso soup, rice, various pickled vegetables, a raw egg a la Rocky, and the kicker, a slice of cooked fish. Especially when the quest began and my body was in shock over how hard every day was, I was desperate for every nutrient I could find, and I dutifully ate the piece of fish. My mom is so proud right now. Unfortunately, I have become more used to the grind, and my body has remembered that I can't stand fish. Let 'em swim in the sea, I always say. I'm gonna start packing my own breakfast from convenience stores the night before, since its cheaper and they sell things I can eat like packaged danishes and wussy coffee.

7-11am: The Grind. This is the prime hiking time in Shikoku, and Japan in general right now. In the morning its fairly cool, the humidity is manageable, and the sun isn't bearing down at full power yet. Probably take a short break to rest feet around 9, then forge on to get some more kilometers under your belt. Try to knock out at least 15km in the morning. Probably visit a temple or two, hopefully.

11-11:30pm- Lunch. I usually aim to land in some random town by this time, where I go to whatever podunk restaurant is around for some noodles, a fried pork rice bowl, or a plate of curry.

11:30am-2:30pm-The Grind Part 2- Try to knock out a couple more kilometers, hopefully like 10km, during this time period. Hopefully you get to the next lodging destination by 3, because if you dont, you`re gonna end up in...

2:30pm-5:30pm- THE DEATH ZONE. During this part of the afternoon, the heat is murderous, the humidity is oppressive, and the sun is bearing down on you so brutally that it feels like you stepped into a microwave oven. Trying to push through the Death Zone begins a chain reaction of injury and pain: you start to get sunburned and dehydrated, which makes you disoriented, which makes you make bad decisions, which makes you get lost, then the rashes come back, then your ankle and knee stop working, then you panic, then you start screaming for help, then scared old ladies call the police on you, then your visa gets revoked, then Prime Minister Shinzo Abe uses your case as an example to pass more anti-foreigner legislation, etc etc etc. It's really best to just follow the lead of our Latino companeros and go into siesta mode during this time. The worst, and most disastrous days I've had on the trail were a result of trying to hike through this part of the day. It just isn't worth it.

530pm to 930pm- Dinner, rest, and regroup. Eat some chow, massage your ankle ligaments, take a shower, hopefully take a dip in the local bath or hot spring, and try to plan out the next day. And then sleep. Repeat until enlightenment. Or debilitating injury, which ever comes first.

 

Errand of Mercy: An unexpected sidequest FINAL CHAPTER

Tying up one loose end, and a flashback to 2013

I had one last thing to do. On the pilgrimage, it is customary to present an ofuda, or a sacred paper with your name and wish, to any one who offers you assistance. I already tendered one to Auntie Emiko in thanks for housing and feeding me for 5 days with no notice. What a saint. I also wanted to give an ofuda to Ted Kitamura, the most fascinating person I have ever met.

As I alluded to earlier, in 2013 I went on a mission under orders from my Auntie Ruby to track down Emiko and Ted Kitamura and give a report regarding their general physical and mental state. I had intelligence that they were both in the Tokyo area. This turned out to be slightly inaccurate, as their true location was in the suburbs of Kyushu, about 500 MILES AWAY. Still, it was better intelligence than the utter bullshit that got us into Iraq. After a lengthy train trek and some clutch assistance from the Imari city office, I met Auntie Emiko for the first time. Awkward introductions aside, we hit it off quickly, and to my delight, Emiko announced that we would be meeting with my pseudo cousin Ted Kitamura the next day. It would be the first time mother and son had met in 4 years.

What little I knew about the man had already intrugued me. As a biracial child raised by a single mother in what was then rural Kyushu, I can only imagine how rough his youth must have been. The Japanese media now features a cornucopia of multi racial stars, mostly pretty girls on talk shows and star athletes, but the Japan of the 1970s where Ted grew up was a far less accepting environment. Despite this, Ted (or Ted-do as his name is pronounced) became an excellent athlete and karate practitioner, and later joined the Rangers of the Japanese Ground Self Defense Force. He was there for 12 years, and then left the military for reasons I have not yet discovered. Supposedly he was now both studying psychology and dabbling in fortune telling with a renowned master in the city of Kokura.

Kokura is only about 2 hours away by train from Imari, but it may have been the longest trip Emiko had taken in years. At the train station, I got my first look at Ted Kitamura. Aside from his attire of a beanie and a vaguely militaristic coat that suggested 'veteran,' I never would have picked him out from the crowd. In his old military photos you could perhaps see slight clues of his mixed heritage, but the man I saw before me was both in physical appearance and mannerisms the most Japanese man I have ever met. He greeted his mother with all the warmth and emotion of an estate lawyer. Unlike Emiko, who made great pains to meet me halfway with the language barrier, Ted made no such accommodations. Though he spoke clearly and concisely, he did not attempt to speak English once. We took an obligatory walk to Kokura castle, and had lunch. Though he and his mother chatted, there seemed to be a vast distance between them. I may as well have been just some health care aide assisting Auntie Emiko during her visit to the city, and due to the language barrier I couldn't get the slightest impression of Ted.

But then, in his own way, Ted started to open up the slightest bit. We went next to the Kokura Public Library, where Ted went to read books on psychology. The ease with which he navigated the isles seemed to suggest he came here a lot. This must be one of his favorite places. I started to ask him about movies like Taxi Driver and The Deer Hunter. I thought that maybe we could bond over those, since we both seemed to be military veterans adrift in society. Then Ted took us to the cafe where his fortune telling guru works. The guy looked like famous comic book artist Osamu Tezuka, and was outgoing and gregarious, the polar opposite of Ted. Supposedly he had predicted that an emissary from the Tayag clan would be coming to Japan, and there I was. An oracle and an army vet seemed like an odd match, but it seemed that Ted's guru was one of the only people that could be considered his friend. Huh. He took us to his favorite places and introduced us to his friend. Even if we can't understand a damn thing we say to each other, I think I can understand that.

When we parted at the train station, he gave me an omamori, a paper amulet bearing a chant and inscription for safety and good luck. Awkwardly fumbling to reciprocate, I gave him some random Philippine pesos I had in my wallet for some reason. As we shook hands, Ted's normally dour funeral mask cracked the slightest milimeter. His expression still made the Mona Lisa look like the Cheshire Cat, but it did change, ever so slightly. The next day, I said goodbye to Auntie Emiko and went back to America.

Back to the present in 2015, after some assistance from a random half-Korean dude, I found the fortune telling cafe we went to 2 years previous. Ted was not there, as I assumed he would not be, but the fortune telling guru was there, as I had hoped. I entrusted one of my Thank You ofudas to the guru's care, to deliver to Ted at the first opportunity. A charm for a charm, at long last. That night, I returned to Shikoku by ferry to complete the pilgrimage.

 

Kyushu Sightseeing: An unexpected sidequest part 4

 

Poking around Kyushu, the Europe of Japan.

I needed one more day before my ankle was ready for a full workload, so I decided to spend the day on the train, with various short stops at scenic areas of Kyushu. First stop was Mount Aso. Back in the day this volcano made Mt. Fuji look like a zit, until an epic explosion created a caldera measured not in acres, but in SQUARE MILES. The volcano floor is now verdant farmland, and the area has a vaguely Swiss alpine feel to it, a la the opening scene of Sound of Music. They even have a dairy or two up there, which produces the fluffiest, creamiest vanilla ice cream Ive ever tasted. So chalk that up as a win.

I wanted to go to Amakusa, the site of Japans most famous Christian uprising/massacre, but it turns out that its like 100km away! You cant even take the train there: you gotta get off the train, then get on a bus, then get on a boat. Screw that, I'll check it out next time. Instead, I decided to revisit a place I swore I would never step foot on again: the thoroughly bizarre themed place Huis Ten Bosch.

Isn't that supposed to say theme park? Yes it should. But Huis Ten Bosch, except for a Ferris wheel, doesn't really have rides. Thus themed place. That theme you ask? THE NETHERLANDS!!! Yes, that's right! You see, the Japanese and the Dutch have a long relationship. The Dutch introduced Catholicism to Japan, which ended rather poorly when the Tokugawa shogunate outlawed Christianity and made it punishable by death. (Lol joke is on the Shogunate- Japanese Catholics just disguised the Virgin Mary as the female Boddhisatva Kwan Yin and continued practicing Christianity underground for the next 300 years!) But even after Japan closed itself from the rest of the world, Dutch traders were still allowed to peddle their wares in the Nagasaki area. Inspired by this history, some Japanese entrepreneurs in the 1990s decided to create a simulated Netherlands in Southern Japan, complete with tulips and windmills. You see, back in the day the Japanese were rather insular, so Huis Ten Bosch could be like a European getaway without having to leave the comforts of home. Unfortunately two things happened. First, the Japanese economic meltdown of the 90s erased most people's spending money. Second, Japanese people have become a lot more adventurous since last century. Why go to the fake Netherlands when you could go to the real thing? The park declared bankruptcy in 2003, and ever since then has just sort of limped along.

I was there in 2005 as part of an Army Band mini tour. We were gonna be the random entertainment at the park, a la Disneyland. That's where your tax dollars are going, people. There was almost no one at the park, and I almost starved to death because they served fish for breakfast. Yecchh. In ten years, had anything changed?

Nope! It was still the slow trickle of curious tourists going in the park, and confused tourists walking out. The loud speakers were blasting some concert band arrangement of River Stay Way From My Door, which brought back traumatic memories of listening to a Spike Jones cassette on 10 hour minivan car trips in my youth, so that was strike 1. Strike 2 was the other song they played over and over, some weird dramatic overture music straight from the opening credits of some 60s epic starring Charleton Heston. Different loudspeakers started the song at different places, and the resulting discordant cacophany would give Rob Zombie waking nightmares. Strike 3, to get in the park was 50 bucks. I didn't even stay 30 minutes. I bought some ice cream and got the hell out of there. Huis Ten Bosch, the answer to a question that nobody asked.

Finally, I checked out Nagasaki. I've visited the Hiroshima atomic bomb museum like 4 times, so I decided to skip the Nagasaki version. I figure I've satisfied my American A-Bomb guilt quota already. Instead, I checked out the various Christian sights around the city, including the monument to the 26 Catholic Martyrs of Japan! Maybe that's the prequel to 13 Assassins. There's a church that has Japanese language services 7 days a week! You can't understand what the hell they're saying, so its like the Latin Mass! Man, my in-laws would love this place. I bought some cool Nagasaki Christian Hello Kitty souvenirs, then made my way back to Auntie Emiko's house.

My ankle is feeling good, which means its time to finish up the quest. The ferry leaves tomorrow morning. Wish me luck.

 

Auntie Emiko: Renaissance Woman of Imari.

An in depth look at my fascinating pseudo aunt.

I am blessed with a gigantic family. I have 4 aunts and uncles on my dad's side, and a ridiculous 11 on mom's side, one of whom has unfortunately passed. As it turns out, I had a bonus aunt this whole time and I didn't even know it, in the one place I would least expect. From the suburban town of Imari on Kyushu island, which is eerily similar to Novato, California, allow me to introduce one Emiko Kitamura.

The Greeks upheld the notion of an ideal mind within an ideal body, and Emiko embodies that lofty standard. She displays a cat like agility that would leave the mouths of American senior citizens positively agape. A spry 77 years old, she makes daily bicycle treks to the city library and public baths, as well as a 3 km daily walk that has to be seen to be believed. It starts normally enough among the drab low rent apartment buildings that she calls home, but then she takes a short cut by JUMPING DOWN A FOUR FOOT CONCRETE EMBANKMENT. What the hell was that? There's a goddamn ninja in the family. The route then continues in a normal fashion on a dirt road past the local reservoir and rice fields. However, on the way back she does something even more ridiculous. To train for balance, she walks along another concrete embankment 6 inches wide, with a steep hill on one side, and a 5 FOOT DROP ONTO PAVEMENT ON THE OTHER. I believe it's time for Auntie Emiko to put in her audition tape for Ninja Warrior. My God!!!

In addition to these physical feats, she works out her mind with equal fervor. She can quote Nietzsche and Goethe, as well the works of Freud and Jung. She can rattle off the Buddhist Heart Sutra in an instant, which is like 2 and a half Our Fathers in archaic Japanese, as well as recite Pi to several dozen places. She is an avid reader, and she seems to have inherited the ebullient bubbliness of her favorite Buddhist author, Japucho Setouchi, who is like the female Dalai Lama of Japan. If you don't use it you lose it, and Auntie Emiko has taken that philosophy to heart.

And did I mention that she's a published author? I believe Bungeisha picked up her memoirs and published the damn thing, hardcover and all the fixins. Despite moving around 900 units for a cool 10,000 dollars in profit, Emiko has seen only about 180 bucks! I thought that the music industry exploited its artists, but they look like benevolent orphanage nuns compared to the publishing industry. Emiko's son Ted Kitamura even penned the postscript, in which he mentions my 2013 visit to Japan! I'm famous in Japan!!! Just like Jennifer Love Hewitt!!! My WB sitcom cant be far behind. Most memoirs are so boring that they would put God to sleep, because there's no real conflict. You went to school, you got married, you got into the plastics industry, you had 2.5 kids and a dog. Where's the drama? The pathos? The tribulations, and the triumph? If your life goes exactly according to plan, it may be pleasant, but it doesn't make for much of a story. On the other hand, Emiko has been cursed to have lived an interesting life.

Auntie Emiko's weathered face tells a story of both soul crushing heartbreak, as well as perseverance and joy. There are many words to describe the process of raising a multi racial child as a single parent in xenophobic 1970s Japan. The last word you would use to describe that is Easy. Her lips and chin are marked by deep grooves, evidence of a face clenched with tears. Yet her eyes are surrounded by wrinkles that indicate a life of laughter. Emiko's name means Laughing Child, and she seems to have learned the hard way how to appreciate the smallest moments of happiness in life. Whether its talking to her son on the phone, going to the library to see how many people checked out her book (about 7 this year, which she's overjoyed about) or taking care of my dumb ass, Auntie Emiko stays upbeat no matter the situation. She is a hoot to be around, and our awkward Japlish discussions run the gamut from Greek mythology all the way to Japanese history and the troubling rise of ISIS. We even came up for a nickname for Mickey Mouse, after it turned out that some Disney stationary she bought is unusable because a poorly placed graphic obscures the address area. That nickname is Baka Nezumi, or Stupid Mouse, or depending on the context, That Frickin Mouse. Baka Nezumi! On top of all this, she bakes her own bread! Cheaper I guess. What the hell have I done today?
If your heart of ore and gravel can survive the merciless forge of trauma and sadness, you may be lucky enough to be blessed with a heart of steel, one that shines even brighter in the midst of the flames. Auntie Emiko's heart is truly a Fullmetal Heart. That's an anime reference by the way. Till Next Time

Chilin Senior Citizen Style. An unexpected sidequest part 3

Hangin with Auntie Emiko, and plans for a mini Christian pilgrimage.

Emiko Kitamura opened the door with a smile and a laugh. On my previous visit, she was so shocked that she talked to me through the door for a couple minutes trying to verify my identity and story, but this time she let me in immediately. Its been two and a half years since I visited, but you would have thought I was here last week. She invited me in, and not a moment too soon, because the day and night of travel was wreaking havoc on my strained ankle.

Emiko knows a bit off English, and I know a bit of Japanese, so we can actually converse in a meaningful fashion. I told her about the pilgrimage, and she asked about my upcoming marriage, and I asked about my pseudo cousin Ted Kitamura, and so on and so forth. She can rattle off the Heart Sutra in a blink, so she helped me to get that thing up to speed so I can rock the final 44 temples of the pilgrimage in style. She led me to her guestroom in her tiny, dusty, cluttered apartment.

Emiko Kitamura is a fascinating person, fascinating enough that she warrants her own blog entry. Which is the next blog entry! So allow me to describe her apartment. It is dusty, cozy, and cluttered. The small HD TV, which gets minimal use, is the newest thing in the apartment. Everything else looks like holdovers from the Showa Era. All the appliances, from the breadmaker to the washtub, are well worn and used, the way Star Wars is supposed to look. Two other things are truly noteworthy. One is the inside of the bathroom, which is plastered from floor to ceiling with quotes from Dosdoyevsky, Nietche, and other famous philosophers and authors. Emiko reviews these to stave off dementia. The other is the wall of the living room, which is covered in photographs of her son Ted Kitamura, and various members of the Tayag family. We keep talking about having a big family reunion, but everytime I write it seems to get pushed back another year. Live like you're gonna live forever, I guess.

That evening she led me to the local hot spring to heal up my injuries, and after watching some dumb game shows I passed the heck out at 9:30PM. Our breakfast was the usual from before, salad and toast with tasty black sesame topping. I studied the Heart Sutra all morning, and after lunch we marched around Imari to the train station, the post office (to mail a letter to my Uncle Ted in Las Vegas, with special guest author Mark Davis), and finally to the internet cafe where I am typing this very blog entry.

My ankle is feeling better already from a combination of hot springs, good care, and good company. In a day or two I want to visit Nagasaki, Japan`s most Catholic city, and Shimabara, the site of a famous Christian uprising, as well as the home of Japan`s most famous (only) Catholic martyr, Shiro Amakusa. Like Elvis, who wore an ankh, cross, and Star of David around the mansion, I don`t want to miss heaven on a technicality. More updates to come!

 

The journey to Imari. An unexpected sidequest Part 2

A Sea Journey and train ride to an old friend.

The ferry to Kyushu left Sukumo at 12:30 AM. Wow, that`s as shady as it gets. I wonder what kind of criminals and illegal cargo will be riding on that boat. It was 8PM, and I made the walk from the train station to the ferry port in a misty rain, umbrella in one hand, staff in the other. It was like a Buddhist pilgrim had wandered into a Raymond Chandler novel translated into Japanese. I wandered in the dim streetlights and the oppressive mist, past failed businesses, sleepy homes, and the blinking neon lights of girly bars and yakiniku joints.

I was greeted at the port by a bunch of scuba divers coming in from a late night excursion, foul smelling blocks of krill in tow, probably to lure out some tastier fish. I wasted some time at a korean barbeque joint where the staff gave me some free potato chips, then I meandered back to the ferry terminal and napped fitfully next to a bespectacled man making the trip on a moped.

The ferry crowd was a diverse bunch. Moped nerd was there, as was a long haul trucker, a lively family of four, and some other folks. I took off my shoes and slept the ride away in the common area, as the ship trudged through a pitch black sea on an inky night.

The ship got in at 4 in the morning. The crew motioned for me to exit the boat first ahead of the vehicles, and I strutted down the ramp like a slow motion badass in a P Diddy video. This swagger was short lived, since besides knowing I was on the island of Kyushu, I didn't have a fucking clue where I was. For the second time that night, I wandered around a shady port town in the darkness, and eventually followed some signs to the train station.

The first train didn't leave till 5:50AM, and it was only 4:15 in the morning. Foregoing train station etiquette, I went to the waiting area past the ticket booth. I used my pilgrim coat as a blanket to shield myself from the early morning chill. Huh. Kobo Daishi really does help you out on your journey. The guy died 1200 years ago, but it seems he's got time on his schedule to keep me warm.

The train ride was uneventful. I made it to Hakata, the Tokyo of southern Japan, and continued west to the town of Imari, a place I had visited back in 2013. My auntie Ruby had sent me on a secret mission to track down one Emiko Kitamura, a distant relation of the Tayag clan, aka my mom's side of the family. The closer I got to Imari, the more familiar the scenery became. In the late afternoon heat, I got off the train and walked south, past two traffic lights, then left, then right, then past the city hall, and then to the second of three apartment blocks. I climbed the stairs to room 5-2 and rang the doorbell.

A familiar face, weathered by age but lightened by laughter, greeted me at the door.

"Maaku-san!!!" CONTINUED IN PART 3.

 

LOL I`m in Kyushu! An unexpected sidequest Part 1

Ankle issues, desperation, and a family connection

I type this blog entry from an internet cafe in Imari, a town in the suburbs of Hakata, the biggest city on the island of Kyushu. For those keeping score at home, that's a totally different island than Shikoku, and I`m at least 100km or more from the Shikoku coastline. The story of how I got here leads us back to the city of San Bruno, California, before the start of the pilgrimage.

My target date to leave for Japan was the first week of May. Knowing that I would have to put in long days of cross country trekking, I started to train. As it turns out, this was a bad idea. Not training, but training WRONG. It turns out there`s a proper technique to WALKING that I was not aware of. A couple days in, I strained my ankle ligaments. I promptly stopped my training, and my fiance Kristine instructed me on the correct way to walk with low impact. Good advice, but the downside is that, due to my injury, my training would have to be put on hold indefinitely, until I was literally on the ground in Shikoku.

The disastrous first day of the pilgrimage, primarily as a result of a comically oversized backpack, resulted in a re-strained ankle, dehydration, fatigue, blisters, and some extremely painful rashes. Thanks to Mr. Okuda and the hot springs I was able to nurse myself back to health, but the ankle strain was there. It didn't really ever quite go away, but for the moment it wasn't giving me any problems. After the brutal mountain climbing of temple 12, my primary concern became my knees.

This changed after temple 32. A slip off a rock on my way down a hillside severely re-strained the ankle, and as the day wore on, I experienced a relapse of everyone of the nasty symptoms from the first day. I was in pain, and by temple 35 the next day I kind of was unable to walk downhill. A ride from a fellow pilgrim helped me get down to 36, but the brutal truth was, I was adventuring with a strained ankle. Not severe enough to derail the quest, but painful enough that I needed to consider every option available.

With my friend Mr. Ozawa`s assistance, we took the bus down to temple 38, and then I decided to do something crazy. My ankle desperately needed rest, but I don't wanna just sit around in a hotel burning through money. Who do I know in Japan that I can mooch off of for a couple days? My old translator buddy, Mr. Hayakawa? No he`s got a wife and kid, I don't want to impose. My navy buddy, Koichi Fukuba? No, I don`t want to get in the way of his rampant womanizing. Ted Kitamura, my pseudo cousin? No, I don't even have his address. He`s probably meditating in a cave or something. There was only one option.

It was time to hit up my long lost aunt, Emiko Kitamura, in Imari City. To do that I would have to take a midnight ferry from the shady port town of Sukumo to the ancient island of Kyushu. CONTINUED IN PART 2

 

 

Kochi Prefecture After Action Report

My recollection of the majority of Kochi Prefecture, I think.

Whew Kochi prefecture was rough. Also known as Tosa prefecture, this part of the pilgrimage is known as the Dojo of Ascetic Training. Some even call it the Devil's Land, where lodging and assistance are not to be given. I wouldn't go that far, but this was a major mental, spiritual, and physical test. I had to rediscover and reaffirm the reasons I was doing this whole damn thing, especially when I re-injured my ankle and simply walking became a painful challenge. I think this is how the days broke down.

May 16- Made my way down the Kochi coastline. Beautiful scenery, not so beautiful weather.

May 17- The rain hit. Made my way in the rain to Temple 24 and 25. Temple highlight- Temple 24. Another mountaintop temple, not notable for the buildings but for the wildlife. . .specifically a bunch of bluish black 1 foot earthworms crawling around everywhere! Lots of roadkill casualties.

May 18- Knocked out temple 26 and made way up the coast again. Stayed at another random lodge.

May 19- Visited temple 27, at another fricking mountain. This is the temple with a bunch of stairs going up on facebook, really quite beautiful. Had to earn the view, but it was nice.

May 20- Typhoon hit hard, used train to get up to Kochi suburbs, visited temples 28, 29, and 30. Highlight- Not the temples, but the company! Formed a cross country hiking party with Mr. Ozawa and the Lady from Osaka. Good times. Had to let them go because they're too damn fast.

May 21- Pushed hard to scope out temples 31, 32, 33, and 34. Temple Highlight- Temple 32, with a view of the beach. This was somewhat of a disastrous day. Ill explain in the next blog entry.

May 22- Knocked out temples 35 and 36. Got ride down the mountain from random pilgrim after temple 35 because I couldn't walk down hill. Highlight- not the temples, but the view from the National Hotel, check out facebook! The hotel was even done up to look like Greece or something.

May 23- Used ferry to get from isolated peninsula back to mainland, then trekked with a big pilgrim party down to Temple 37. Ankle giving me massive problems at this point.

May 24- Was desperately in need of rest and rehabilitation. Couldn't walk 2km without awful ankle pain. Mr. Ozawa helped me figure out bus to Temple 38, the water temple, and then I decided to do something drastic. It is here that the journey takes a crazy left turn. . .literally. To be continued in the next post.

 

What is Shikoku Part 2: Country folks

The Journey doesn't make the Journey, the people do.

If the last entry sounded like I was bagging on Shikoku, you're right! I kind of was. Shikoku can be a boring and depressing place. Do I hate Shikoku? Nope. In fact I kind of love the place. And the reason is the people.

Rural Shikoku is desperately lacking in the things I love about Japan. Hip restaurants and hangouts are in short supply and are limited only to the major cities. Internet cafes, and indeed communication infrastructure like wifi, cell phone coverage, and OPERATIONAL PUBLIC PHONES, are lacking or in disrepair. The record stores, knick knack shops, and major franchises seem to have abandoned most of Shikoku en masse in search of greener, more profitable pastures. Yet, it's the people of Shikoku that have saved the place for me, and indeed make me want to share the place with my family and friends.

The people of Shikoku are outgoing, amiable, and will do anything in their power to help out a traveling pilgrim like myself. Given, this is sort of a cultural and religious requirement in regards to the pilgrimage culture, but the fact that they`re going out of their way to help a weirdo foreigner absolutely means the world to me. Folks have given me treats, gifts, and even rides when my ankles gave out on me and I couldn't make it back down the mountain. People down here put their ass on the line for you, even if they risk awkwardness and embarrassment due to the vast cultural rift between America and Japan. They're more laid back. Which isn't always a good thing.

For example, if you don't call ahead to a lodging house in the countryside and you just show up, there's a good chance no one will be there! This is a big difference from the big cities where a hyper polite attendant is manning the desk 24 hours a day in 30 hour shifts. They probably figured, Hey, nobody's coming tonight, TIME TO GO DRINKING!!! Also the obsessive cleanliness of Tokyo can be somewhat lacking. I spent one night with a family of small green flying beetles at one countryside inn. I was creeped out at first, but eventually I learned to coexist with my six legged roommates. You stay on your side, and I don't squash your extended beetle family. Peace in our time.

Despite some of the issues, everybody wants to know who I am, where I'm from, and why the hell I'm going on this crazy quest. Little elementary kids to and from their way to school even say hi to you! This really is a different type of Japan, and I love it. Granted, I still need to get back to the cities to update blogs and charge my cell phone, but my time in the country has done wonders for my health, my weight, and even my shyness. I feel more outgoing, and all kinds of stuff, from my tendonitis to my hearing, has improved with my time on the pilgrimage.

Now if they could just do something about these creepy bugs. . .

 

What is Shikoku Part 1: Country Livin`

The Hidden Value of America's godawful education system

There are four major Japanese landmasses. Honshu, the island with Tokyo, is where the action is. Hokkaido up north, the Japanese Alaska, is the last frontier, complete with bears and sidelined indigenous people. Kyushu, the southernmost island, is a dizzying mix of ancient lore, due to being the first island settled by the Japanese, and foreign influences, thanks to Portuguese traders and missionaries. And then there was Shikoku.

Is Shikoku the forgotten stepchild of the four main islands? It's tough to say. It certainly has its share of history. Kobo Daishi himself is from northern Shikoku, and the pilgrimage that he made famous brings Buddhist adventurers to the island in droves. Just like the rest of Japan, Shikoku has seen its share of bloodshed. The Malcolm X of Japan, Ryoma Sakamoto, was a Shikoku native. Stridently anti-modernization in his early life, to the point of plotting to murder a rival politician, Sakamoto changed his views to embrace the Westernization of Japan before being himself assassinated by a rival samurai faction. (It happened a lot those days.) So what is Shikoku like today?

I've been to all four, and while the industrial scale farming in Hokkaido is larger, the culture of Shikoku is much more rural. Farms are on a smaller scale, several acres of rice fields or orchards managed by a single person or couple. These farmers are, by and large, elderly.

I was trying to put my finger on what is missing in Shikoku, and then it hit me- people my age. There are almost no Japanese people in their 20s and 30s in rural Shikoku. I can count the number of times Ive seen them using my fingers. There are school kids up to high school age, and then you see parents in their 40s, but what the hell happened to the inbetweeners? Was there an age-selective plague? Or a massive military campaign, a la USSR in WWII, where all the young men have literally been slaughtered in the gears of war?

The explanation I came up with is that the rural areas of Shikoku are victims of the success of the excellent Japanese education system. In America, which in education ranks somewhere between like Bolivia and Botswana, you get enough high school drop outs, teenage pregnancies, and washout star athletes that small rural towns remain stocked with younger people that for one reason or another have decided to stay put. Maybe they'd like to leave Palookaville, but there just isn't a pressing reason or logistical possibility to leave the town. And the town stays alive.

But in Japan, education is paramount. Top graduates from Waseda University, the Japanese Harvard, become high school teachers just as often as they become bankers or consultants. The quality of instruction, the expectations on students, and the results are among the best in the world. Do you honestly expect for young people this bright, motivated, and ambitious to work at a gas station in some rural mountain town? 99% of people would rightly say, of course not. Go to the best college you can, get the best job you can, make as much money as you can, and make it big. But without your slackers and dumbasses and dropouts, what happens to the rural towns?

The answer is that they seem to be getting older, and older, and older, and then they slowly fade away. In town after small town in Shikoku, you see houses, shrines, and rice fields that have simply been abandoned that are being steadily taken over by nature. Anywhere from 1/3 to 1/2 of the elementary schools have simply shut their doors, and now serve primarily as tsunami evacuation areas. The much publicized Japanese population crisis, in my opinion, is overblown. Japanese people are choosing to have children and raise families, but they are raising them where there are jobs and opportunities, and that does not describe rural Shikoku. It can be a little melancholy.

But if you love nature, and squatting in abandoned properties, or filming a post apocalyptic television series, you may have just found heaven on earth. Sounds grim right? Well, as usual its not that simple. This train of thought will continue in Part 2.

Pilgrimage People Part 3!!!

Because the people have become more interesting than some random dusty temples

Moped man aka Rockman- This outgoing weirdo chatted me up while I was waiting for a ferry to cross a bay to get to temple 33. Personable but slightly pushy, he rode a green moped with a plastic bag on the back. He was so impressed with my dedication that he decided to give me a gift from his bag: rocks. His bag was filled with various green, white, and red rocks. I guess he likes Italy or something. It's super impolite to refuse gifts as a pilgrim, so I begrudgingly accepted the frickin rocks, even though more weight is literally the last thing a backpacker needs. I shipped the rocks back home, along with a bunch of other random crap. Thanks moped man!

Mr. Ikegami- Even though I said that Mr. Okuda was the Gustave H. of his establishment, Mr. Ikegami was the real deal, a concierge with class. Tall, polite, and decent with English, he made me feel like a king after the climb up the hill to his beloved National Hotel near temple 36. He redid portions of the hotel to look just like those white buildings in Greece, and combined with the beautiful view of the Kochi coastline, the resemblance was uncanny. Even better, he keeps a menagerie of critters at the hotel to play with! He had a flemish giant rabbit, a ferret, a hedgehog, and my personal favorite, an adorable stinky little piglet. Check out Kristine Sinajons facebook page for the video of the pig attack. So Mr. Ikegami, I salute you.

Kevin and Kevin`s dad- Kevin is a Japanese kid in the Shikoku area who was staying at the National Hotel with his dad. What's confusing is that he has an American name, and like me, was born in Hawaii! After I asked him what the heck was going on, he assured me that he is 100% Japanese. I went down the list of the usual getting to know you questions, and it turns out he's a big Steph Curry fan! Go Warriors! His dad was even more of a trip. Fluent in English, he lived in both the East Bay and SoCal for a while. His obsession with America seems to be even more intense than my Japanese fixation; he did have his kid born in our country after all. I performed an acapella version of Bruce Springstein's Born in the USA using a telescope as an air guitar, they seemed to dig it.

Henro Hayao- After the climb to temple 35, I was in great pain. My ankle, which I injured training for this adventure, was starting to bother me again. At the pilgrim snack shack next to the temple, this guy, who looked like master animator Hayao Miyazaki, overheard my plight and gave me a ride back to town to get some medical supplies. He even gave me some of his icy hot ankle wraps, which I've been trying desperately to find again. There truly are no people like pilgrim people. Good kid, good kid!

 

Who Are The Pilgrims?

Will the real Buddhist pilgrims please stand up?

The breakdown of the pilgrims I met basically goes down along these lines-

75% Japanese retirees on a tour bus trip organized by their neighborhood Buddhist temple
15% Japanese retirees walking most of the route but breaking it up with train and bus rides
5% Younger Japanese people (younger than 50) who seem to be doing the pilgrimage for a variety of deep spiritual or personal reasons
4.99% Random foreigners doing it for the adventure
0.01% Weirdo jazz pianists with a platoons worth of awesome friends and family

So its mostly older people, which will explain why most of my pictures are with a bunch of random Japanese obaa-sans and ojii-sans (grandmas and grandpas). Why is this exactly?

I believe the reason is that it is both logistically impossible and socially unacceptable for most mainstream Japanese people in their prime working years to take multiple months off of work to go on some random spirit journey. You tell your employer that you need 7 weeks off to find yourself in the wilderness, he instantly not only fires you, but also blacklists your name throughout the white collar world as someone who is wishy washy and unreliable. The work culture here is still as brutal as ever. 10 hour plus days are the norm, and even schoolkids put in a half day on Saturday, so everyone's weekend is basically just Sunday, if that. Even though things are changing, such as allowing women to have more meaningful careers in the office and giving more consideration to family time, things change slowly over here. The only possible time in the life of a working Japanese person to do something as crazy as the Shikoku pilgrimage seems to be when they aren't working anymore. Any young person who would set out on this thing must be daft, irresponsible, or insane.

Which is why I love pilgrimage people, both young and old.

 

Alternative Healing Report

What has and hasn't worked on the road to recovery.

The stretch goal for the indiegogo campaign was to raise funds for alternative Japanese healing techniques, and I have indeed tried some out. Some success, some failure, and as always, constant healing and self discovery!

Onsen bathing-Success!!! Onsen is the Japanese word for hot springs, and the best ones use real hot spring water that has strange properties. The craziest one I went to was in Kamiyama. The water was very slippery and oily, and had kind of a green tint, but it did wonders to heal pain in both my wrist tendons, and in my aching feet and knees. Definitely gonna keep this up once I get home.

Energy stone massage- Failure. I tried this out a couple times. I believe its called onreiishi, which crudely tranlates to charged energy stones. They put ki-charged stones all over you and rub them around a bit. It had no effect on my right arm, but it actually made my left worse for a bit, so throw that one on the junk pile.

Japanese style ayurvedic therapy- Inconclusive. The way I translate this is eating mindfully and healthfully with a variety of spices and fresh ingredients. It tastes good, and it certainly isn't hurting. Many people have said that a major component of controlling tendon inflammation is watching your diet and avoiding processed foods and sugars, and with the cornucopia of traditional Japanese food I've been eating, I've definitely been following those criteria. Will keep doing this regardless of tendon healing.

And finally, a little thing I`d like to call the Shikoku Pilgrimage Cleanse: SMASHING SUCCESS! This is basically what I`m doing anyway: walking about 15 miles a day, drinking a lot of liquids, and sweating in Japanese humidity like a convict on the run. This also incorporates rehabilitation exercises, like holding a holy staff, stretching tendons by doing Buddhist prayers, and climbing your way up 2 to 3 goddamn mountains daily. My hands have basically regained normal function, and I'm getting stronger and more svelte every day, right in time for my wedding! So, in conclusion, the verdict on alternative Japanese healing is: Great Success. Thanks again everyone for helping me reach the indiegogo stretch goal! More healing to come.

 

More Pilgrimage people!!

All kinds on the road to enlightenment.

1. Mr. Wakafuji- This wasn't a pilgrim, just a random-ass bastard who said hi to me as I walked through a bunch of rice fields to the next temple. This pilgrimage is a Shingon Buddhist trek, but I think Mr. Wakafuji attempted to convert me to a different sect of Buddhism. Super outgoing, chummy dude who knew a lick of English, no thanks to Will Farrell. Hes the guy in the hat in one of the facebook selfies.

2. Mr. Toru: Now this was an interesting guy. A fellow pilgrim in his 70s, he actually lived for 40 years in Southern California! He speaks perfect English with a Japanese accent, so he kind of straddles the line between Asian and Asian American, which to me is absolutely fascinating. Has a son in the US Army who is stationed in Germany. I think he owned a computer repair business or something? Real down to earth dude.

3. Hisanobu Kawanishi. Great name right? Anyway, this is the OTHER guy who studied at Alabama State. A young and handsome dude from the sleepy fishing town of Yuki, he dresses up in a ridiculous blue turtle costume to promote tourism to the towns and villages along the Eastern Shikoku coastline. When in character his name is Kamenishi Kamejiro, which translates to something absurd like Turtleguy Westingturtle. Another younger Japanese dude who, like Yuta Ishikawa, gives me great hope for the future of Japan.

4. Mr. Ozawa and The Lady from Osaka: I formed my first pilgrim traveling party with these two! Ive run into Mr. Ozawa off and on ever since staying at the Sudachi guest house after temple 12, and ran into The Lady from Osaka on the way to the mountaintop temple 27. We formed a pilgrim team to trek across rice fields and neighborhoods from temple 28 to 30. Talked with Osaka lady about hamburgers and other American food, and reminisced about old temples with Mr Ozawa. It was fun, but they walk so damn fast that I think I'm gonna let them pass while I go at my own pace. Good times!

 

FULL DISCLOSURE DISCLAIMER FOR INDIEGOGO DONORS

The ever evolving nature of the pilgrimage.

This post is addressed to those who donated to the indiegogo campaign to help send me on this adventure.

Hello Indiegogo friends and family! Just wanted to check in with you. The pilgrimage is humming along at a brisk pace. However, I have had to adjust my expectations for the adventure with facts on the ground. What this means will be addressed below.

You should know that your gift to me has already borne fruit. All indications for the state of my tendinitis are looking up! Gripping stair rails, packing gear, clutching my sacred staff. . .it would appear that I have regained normal use of my hands! I can even use computers for limited time periods, as this blog entry would attest. Not saying I can put in 10 hour programming days at the Apple Campus, but it's a start. I have also had some spiritual and life revelations already, as I indeed advertised I would. I will detail those in a later post.

However, I have had to resort to public transportation already several times during the trek, and may have to again in the coming weeks. Non walking transportation has been used, and may have to be used again, in the following circumstances:

1. When I am immobilized due to pain and injury. The strain on muscles and tendons in my feet are real, and knee problems have also plagued me since the first mountain hike. By the time I got to temple 17, I couldn't walk without excruciating pain, so I took the train to backtrack to the Okuda guest house to recoup for a day. I feel it would be counterproductive to heal my wrist tendons while racking up a torture chamber of other injuries, so if I am unable to walk, I will take the train or bus to the next temple or lodging to treat my wounds.

2. If I am caught in extremely heavy rain. I can handle a little drizzle, but since the great gear purge I am now under equipped for typhoon level rain, which the southern side of the island gets on a regular basis. Like the previous circumstance, in event of brutal rainfall, I will bus or train to the next planned lodging and find refuge.

3. Medical or personal emergency. Much of the pilgrimage route goes through rural and unpopulated areas without medical assistance or communication infrastructure. In the event of emergency, I will take train, bus, or other vehicle to the next large town to address the emergency.

I think these are reasonable circumstances to use public transportation, but it does sell short the idea of walking the entire pilgrimage. However, rest assured that the money you donated will not be squandered on consulting fees (I'm looking at you UNICEF), personal spending sprees (shady kickstarter campaigns), or drugs and prostitutes (CIA operators in Latin America, looking in your direction). Any money left unused due to early completion of the pilgrimage will go to the Nepal Youth Foundation. Its administered by my friend, Nepalese American activist and artist Jade Fielding, so you know that its legit. Heres the link: https://www.crowdrise.com/elev8nepal/fundraiser/jadefielding?fb_action_ids=10205795077970462&fb_action_types=og.shares


Whew, that's a load off. Thanks again for your support, and know that if this pilgrimage ended today, it would already be the greatest adventure of my life. And its not over! There's plenty of trekking, chanting, and exploring left to be done. Excelsior!

 

Car accident on the way to #24

Whats a pilgrim to do?

I was making my way to temple 24, Hotsumisaki-ji. It was yet another fricking temple on the top of a mountain. What the hell is so wrong with putting it down on the ground? Not only that, it was raining. I was soaking wet, but also sweating from the humidity, and was starting to sneeze a bit. Things were looking grim. Suddenly, up ahead, I saw a car parked in a weird position, jutting diagonally into the road.

Turns out it wasn't parked. The rain made the road slippery, and the car had crashed into the railing on the sidewalk. I would have maybe jogged up to see what was up, but knee, ankle, and foot pain from the last couple of days made that an impossibility. I got closer to the scene of the accident with my deliberate pilgrim pace.

And no one was hurt! Thank God. The driver was sitting down on the sidewalk, a lady was shielding him from the rain with an umbrella, and a Japanese guy in another car was already calling for help. I've been in car collisions before, and they've always kind of thrilled me, to be honest. Once you know you're ok, and the other person is ok, I just feel this crazy relief. Whoever is at fault and has to pay is a concern for another day, we all survived. But the guy who crashed the car was utterly despondent. He couldn't even look up. And then I saw why.

His car was filled with tools, ladders, and wood planks. The guy is a carpenter, a repairman, a construction guy. His car is his livelihood, and from the looks of it, it is beyond repair. The damn thing is totaled. The reason why he's hunched over on the side of the road is not because he's injured, but because the weight of the world is pushing him down. Maybe I can give him some money? No, he'll refuse it, especially from someone on the pilgrimage. That`s not even allowed. I don't have a phone, and the other guy already called the tow truck. The only thing I can think of is to use my umbrella to help keep the lady with the other umbrella dry. Care for the caretaker right? But she says she's fine. I don't think there's anything I can do to help, so I walk on.

There's a saying that goes, No matter how bad your day is going, Somewhere, Someone is having a worse day than you. Its supposed to give you comfort, that maybe your struggles aren't that bad.

But on that day, that saying just made me feel even more sad. 

Tokushima prefecture report

Day by day recap of the first week

May 8: First day of pilgrimage. Covered temples 1 through 7. Stayed at Okuda guest house. TEMPLE HIGHLIGHT- Temple 1, Ryozenji. Its like the water temple, theres even a mini stream running through that you can skip over! Lots of fun.

May 9: Treated blisters and ankle strain, light day. Covered temples 8 through 10. Stayed at Okuda guest house again. TEMPLE HIGHLIGHT- Temple 10, Kirihataji. Had to climb several hundred steps to get to the damn thing. Saw a bunch of gigantic black earthworms.

May 10: Tackled temples 11 and 12. Brutal mountain hiking. Stayed at Sudachi kan guest house near Kamiyama. TEMPLE HIGHLIGHT- Temple 12, Shosanji. Mountain top temple with a bunch of cool Buddha statues.

May 11: Came down from mountains, went to temples 13-17, stayed AGAIN at Okuda guest house! TEMPLE HIGHLIGHT- Temple 15, Kokubunji. It was sort of a dump! Which was surprising. It was burned down several hundred years ago, and never really regained its luster.

May 12: Day off to rest knees, ankles, and feet from mountain hiking. Stayed near Tokushima station. Did first blogging.

May 13: Went to temples 18-19. Temples not noteworthy. Stayed at Kaneko Ya ryokan.

May 14: Got through temples 20-22. More strenuous mountain hiking. Stayed at Yuki lodge. TEMPLE HIGHLIGHT- Temple 21, Tairyuji. Spectacular mountain top temple in the woods.

May 15: Visited temple 23, and made way south to border of Kochi prefecture. Currently staying at Atago ryokan. Good first week.

 

Nothing is Manlier than watching Sumo naked

In a Sauna with a bunch of other naked Japanese dudes

This comment started a fun little comment chain on facebook, so here's a more in depth thing. Every culture seems to enjoy a finesse sport and a brutal sport. America has football and Dancing with the Stars, Canada has curling and hockey, Russia has ballet and brutal free speech crackdowns, etc. For Japan their finesse sport is baseball, especially the graceful manner in which they both play and observe it. Their brutal sport is Sumo.

Sumo has a bad rap as a funny weirdo sport of colliding fatasses, but anyone who's watched sumo a couple times knows that to be untrue. You're not allowed to throw punches or gauge out facial features, but you can do basically anything else to force your opponent out of the ring, or onto his knees. Underneath that armor of fat is nothing but bruising, murderous muscle. The previous Mongolian champion, Asashoryu, regularly did dumbbell curls with fricking 60 pound weights. And not only are they strong, they're also fast. Speed kills, and power drills, and when you combine both, you get a human wrecking ball coming straight at you at 30 km per hour. In an artfully knotted mawashi, aka sumo thong.

So sumo is the football of Japan. Its football without the football. You take away the pigskin, and the artful Jerry Rice catches, and all you have is a brutal skirmish of two sides attacking each other, like dueling phalanxes on a classical battlefield. Sumo is that, but instead of two teams, its two men, mano a mano, in a sport so simple that its genius. Granted, there's long pauses between bouts for Shinto ceremonies and hyping up the match, but any football fan is used to long pauses between plays! If you love football, you've been groomed to be a sumo fan, and you didn't even know it.

So sumo is manly. Being in a sauna is gender non specific, granted, but enduring the brutal heat does make you a badass, male or female. Put sumo and sauna together, and you now have manly badass. Now add a bunch of naked 60 year old Japanese dudes.

There's something about older Japanese guys. I give you full permission to take that out of context. Because of stereotype conditioning through tv and movies, they remind me of either ruthless corporate executives, murderous yakuza bosses, unbreakable karate fighters, or relentless sushi masters. Those are some manly guys. Now put them all in a sauna, wearing nothing but a towel, and put a sumo match on tv. The comraderie is on a level that I didn't think existed outside of the Army. A bunch of men, enduring brutal conditions, in order to observe a brutal skirmish between two men so manly that clothes couldn't possibly contain their power.

That's what I call a good time. A manly good time.

First fellow foreigner!!!!

My first encounter in Shikoku with another non-Japanese person.

I saw him on the horrible climb up to Temple 12, Shosanji. A tall white dude with glasses and a bandana, he obviously stuck out like a hitchhikers thumb. 2/3 of the way up the mountain I sat next to the guy and said hey, but that was kind of it. A lot of Westerners come out here to get away from everybody and immerse themselves in a foreign culture, which I totally understand, so I didn't pursue it any further. However, the next two days, I kept seeing him again and again. It was obvious we were moving at basically the same pace. Ugh, this is getting awkward.

A day later, after temples 18 and 19, I checked into the Kaneko lodge in the foothills of the next goddamn mountains we had to climb. AND THERE HE WAS AT DINNER. Okay, I guess I gotta intoduce myself, no way around it now.

And he was super cool!!! His name's Oliver, and hes from Switzerland. He's married, and he's between jobs, so he decided to go do this thing while he had a break in his schedule. His wife's foreign getaway of choice is Bolivia, btw. He works in the microloan business, which serves poor communities that are underserved or ignored by the banking industry. He was lamenting a bad deal that went down when an entire town defaulted on their microloans because the local mayor said that if they reelected them, all the loans would be written off. Which wasn't true, but there just isn't a will or a way to seize assets that small. Which is when we came up with a brilliant idea.

MICROLOAN SHARKS!!! Like microloans, this is a community based initiative that uses people in rural villages to ensure collection of debts too small to be worth hiring a regular loan shark to collect. Just give the cousin or neighbor of whoever defaulted on a microloan like 10 or 20 bucks, and have them throw a rock through their window or something to show that the microloan industry doesn't screw around. This ain't UNICEF, people. We have a business to run here.

In conclusion, me and Oliver laughed our asses off at that offensive and disgusting idea, then parted ways the next day when I decided to sleep in a bit. I'm sure I'll see him again.

 

Shikoku is The South

Uncanny Parallels between The American South and Japan`s forgotten island

Bear with me here, but theres enough commonalities that I think its some sort of cosmic coincidence. I think God is telling me to go back to the countryside, pick up the banjo, and wear overalls.

1. They're both in the South. Well that was a dead giveaway. Shikoku is in Southwestern Japan, and the South. . .well you get the idea.

2. They`re both more rural and agricultural than the norm. You'll see plenty of cows, ranches and plantations in the South, and you'll see all kinds of rice fields, orchards, and random greenhouses all over the place in Shikoku.

3. They're both more religious than the rest of the country. Its all about Jesus in The South, and Shikoku is the home of Japan`s most renowned Buddhist pilgrimage.

4. Fat people!!! Lord knows there's all manner of tubby bastards in The South. Shikoku is nowhere near that standard, but Ive seen some nice pudgy folks around the fishing villages, and some bona fide fatasses naked in the hot springs, which you just don't see back in sleek, airbrushed Tokyo.

5. Military culture. The American military both recruits and stations a disproportionate amount of troops from, and in the South, and in Shikoku, you see military recruitment posters all over the place. Note that you see this in other rural parts of Japan as well, like up in Hokkaido.

6. Accents! The South is famous for its laid back drawl, and a lot of people around here are repping Osaka-ben, the less formal cousin to proper and sterile Tokyo-style Japanese. Osaka-ben has been translated in dubbing as both New York and Southern accents, so take your pick I guess. It's not an exact science.

7. And in a very strange coincidence, Ive already met 2 Japanese dudes here in Shikoku who have studied abroad at Alabama State University!!! I guess its time for the Sons of the South to unite. Most good old boys would probably not be cool with sushi, but they can definitely bond over beer! Kampai!

 

Some folks I have met

 

 Fellow pilgrims on the way to Valhalla

There`s no people like henro people, like no people I know.

Mr. Eiguchi: The first guy I had an extended conversation with. Retired salaryman, believes that doing the pilgrimage any way besides on foot is totally meaningless. I'm not quite that absolutist, but he was a friendly guy all the same. He had an awesome staff with a bunch of jangly rings that seems to be reserved for Buddhist tour group leaders and ultimate spiritual badasses.

Yuuta Ishikawa: Besides having the same last name as my favorite player on the San Francisco Giants, I like this guy because he seems to be totally fearless. Hes got two daughters, but I guess hes letting mom take care of them while he goes on this two month spirit journey. Not only that, he studied abroad at Alabama State! Where East Meets West. I want to clone him 1 million times, and then send the Ishikawa Army all over Japan to shake things up.

Kaya Tei, or was it Taya Kei: I can't remember which for the life of me, but shes the bald chick along with Yuuta in the facebook picture. We all assumed she was a Buddhist nun, but I think she just shaved her head because its humid as hell and it was more convenient, which is so cutthroat that I respect it. Any chick willing to go Sinead O'Connor in the pursuit of spiritual realization is alright in my book.

Mr. Miyauchi: An older guy from the sleepy fishing village of Yuki, hes a retired tatami mat maker. He was overjoyed to see me and find out I was American. He, like most of the older generation, is stridently antiwar, and despises the Japanese government`s new hawkish stance on foreign affairs. We talked about Japanese history, and compared notes on the wars that both of our countries have lost. He gave me some awesome tatami style drink coasters, which are now on their way back to America, courtesy of Japan Post Office!! Earnest, goofy, genuine dude.

Tainen: Kind of a weird guy I met after the brutal mountain climb of temple #12. Tainen is kind of an unusual Japanese name, and he was sort of an awkward dork, which means we got along perfectly. We bonded over our love of Dragon Ball Z and crummy 80s action movies. . .I believe his favorite movie star is Mel Gibson. Seemed to be doing the pilgrimage with his mom, who gave me some tape for my blisters.

 

III. The Mountain of Flames. . .Flaming Knees, that is.

On Saturday I tackled the first major test of the pilgrimage, the dreaded temple #12, Shosanji. The name translates to Burning Mountain Temple, due to the legend that Kobo Daishi subdued a fire breathing serpent at the summit using holy Buddhist incantations. Not sure how much of that is true, but what isn't debatable is the challenge of the climb．This is the first gut check of the pilgrimage. Do you really want to do this? Can you? Would you climb a mountain to accomplish your goal? How about 3 MOUNTAINS IN A ROW IN ONE DAY? Still sound appealing? Well does it? YOURE WORTHLESS, YOURE LESS THAN NOTHING!!! WHY DONT YOU JUST QUIT?!?!?

 CAUSE I GOT NOWHERE ELSE TO GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whoa sorry about that. It's just that this climb was pretty brutal. I still have nightmares about it. The three consecutive mountains were like a bunch of annoying minibosses you have to fight again and again before the main boss every time you die. What really killed me though, was the downhill portions. Going uphill is strenuous, but going downhill is tedious, painful, dangerous, and mentally exhausting. You`re already burnt out from climbing the mountain, so you have to concentrate that much harder to keep from slipping and falling and being in a world of pain. And you have to do that 3 times in one day. Screw you Shosanji!!! I`m going back to Okudaya guest house, I don't need you. Except I do. More than anything. Anyway I did it, check facebook for the pictures. There were some awesome statues up there. After the hike I went to Kamiyama Hot Springs, they had this really weird water that felt kinda slimy. . .but it felt good too. Don`t take that out of context please. That`s about it for now. 

 

Is Mark Davis fluent in Japanese?

You be the judge.

Do I speak Japanese? No and yes. I would describe my conversational competency at the level of a toddler who has just experienced a traumatic brain injury, such as being tackled on the blind side by legendary Chicago Bears linebacker Dick Butkus. It aint pretty, folks. On the other hand, I have managed to have hour long conversations, and totally participate in an after hours pilgrim hangout at the guesthouse with Japanese people who speak little to no English. My level of fluency is enough to ask extremely simple questions, and make simple declarative statements. More complex sentence structures, like In the case of X, or What do prefer between X or Y, are totally beyond me. I've taken Japanese 101 four times at like five different colleges, so despite technically studying the language for several years, my fluency isn't that much higher than an experienced tourist. So how do I manage to have meaningful interactions with these people?

1. I know a lot of Japanese pop culture. I know many of the historical figures, major events, television shows, major films, comic books, and random celebrities of Japanese pop culture, and name dropping one or two is enough to get things started. Even if all I can say is, "Takeshi Kitano is my favorite Japanese actor", that`s enough to elicit a "Holy Shit, you know that guy?!" And Japanese and American pop culture is so intertwined now that all I have to do is say I saw Avengers Age of Ultron, and then they say, "DAMMIT that doesn't come out in Japan for another 2 months, man!!!!"

2. Body language goes a long way, I think. I can understand maybe 30 percent, at best, of what people are saying. I can pick out the important words and the familiar words and the bastardized English words, but everything else is just a blur. But all I have to do is smile, or laugh, or show an exasperated face of utter and total confusion and desperation that somehow I get my point across, and vice versa. So I got that going for me.

3. I've done enough crazy shit that even a simple statement is enough to start up a discussion. "I was in the Army." "I went to Hokkaido and chased a bear." "I play accordion." These are all grammatically simple statements, but they`re super bizarre, ridiculous, and fun to talk about, even using super simplistic grammar. And that's not all!!! "I briefly had smallpox in 2006." "I played America the Beautiful for a Japanese General." "Crackheads in Oakland like my music." "My Indian name is Sinking Fish." Ok that last one is fake but you get the idea.

So even though I can barely speak Japanese, I get by with a little help from my friends.