Mt. Takao, Mt. Fuji & Kamakura

Current location: Kyoto, Japan

 After a week of fear and loathing on the alleys of Kabukicho I decided I needed some exercise to clear the fumes out of my head.
Mt. Takao stands 599m tall and is an hours train trip away from Tokyo, being an ideal place for me to sweat out some of the Sapporo beer I'd been chugging for days.

So I checked out of my manga-kissa early, took the train to the base of the mountain and started to climb the main path up. There was no end to the surprise of all the pensioners when they saw me climbing the mountain that early in the morning and I received many an "ohayo!" and "konnichiwa!" along with a puzzled look.
On the way down I encountered hordes of kids on a field trip from the kindergarten, and my "konnichiwa" was responded in near harmonious chorus.

Having gained the necessary mountaineering experience at Mt. Takao I decided to tackle Mt. Fuji.
So a couple of days later I took the last bus from Tokyo to the 5th station, to climb the mountain during night in order to catch the sunrise at, or near the summit.
The weather forecast was ominously predicting thunderstorms with a probability of 70%, but being a hardened mountaineer I thought I could take a little rain.
When I reached the 5th station, I could see it had rained not too long ago. The clouds hung low and the mountain was out of sight. But as I started my climb in the dark, the skies started to clear, and after some hours of climbing I had no more need for my headlamp, as the stars and the moon were illuminating the path.
At +3000m my heart was racing at 200 bpm after every five steps, and since I was only wearing a t-shirt and a thin wind stopper at 5 degrees Celsius and sweating like crazy, I was pretty cold.
It took me 9 hours to reach the top, with an hours stop at the 8th station to refuel and rest.
The sun was shining during most of my descent, but about an hour before I reached the 5th station the clouds started to roll in. Not 20 minutes after I reached the safety of the 5th it started to rain like hell, with thunder accompanying the downpour.
Climbing Fujisan was tough but definitely one of the most rewarding tasks I've ever undertaken.

The day trip to Kamakura was my bid to try and beat some culture into my head. But I'm no culture-vulture, nor am I really interested in history, so I went through the motions, checking out the "must-see" temples and shrines, snapping pictures as I went.
At the end of the day I decided to check out the beach, which made the whole trip worth while.
I happened to wander into a beach bar named Little Thailand, so I sat down on the beach with a cold Chang-beer in my hand, listening to Thai pop-music and watched the sun sink behind the horizon, having travelled, for a moment, through a rip in the fabric of space-time, to a little island in the Gulf of Thailand.

The main path to the summit of Takao-san.

The tengu of Takao-san

I took one of the more off-roady paths down.

Sunrise somewhere between the 8th station
and the summit at Fuji-san.

My climbing stick with the brands of
visited stations.

Entrance to the summit.

At the summit I rewarded myself with a can of ice cold Kirin.

The partially snow-covered crater.

Entrance to the... Uh... Don't-Remember-Which Temple at Kamakura

The Great Buddha of Kamakura.

Kamakura beach

Chok dee!

Japan

Tokyo

Current location: Kyoto, Japan

Shinjuku, Shibuya, Ueno, Asakusa, Akihabara, Odaiba, the Yamanote-line, the underground passageways, the parks, the temples, the shrines, the people, the buildings, the arcades, the manga-cafes, nomihodai, the bars, the pop-culture, the underground-culture, the counterculture and a hundred more things in this city deserve their own posts, and the following rant will not come close to making justice to the many faces and nuances of this behemoth among cities.
The sheer volume of stories and my lack of poetic talent forces me to reduce this to a mere account of the time I spent in Tokyo. And I must confess much of that time was spent downing drinks and making new friends all around the world. But I don't think time spent getting wasted is time wasted, but then, that's just me.

I spent three weeks in Tokyo, two more than I had planned, but as I'm not in a hurry, and really bad at planning, that didn't really matter.
The first week I spent doing touristy stuff, visiting old favourites and places I hadn't visited on my first trip to Japan a couple years ago, and doing my thing getting lost in the largest urban area on the planet. But the thing about getting lost in Tokyo is that there is something outrageously interesting behind every single corner, and in the end you're never too far from the closest train- or subway station.

The downfall of my itinerary was when I was introduced to Kabukicho. Now the word "red light district" will have you thinking of strip clubs, prostitutes, gangsters and drugs, and while I must admit a large part of the allure of the district is that special vibe those kind of places have, I wasn't attracted to the town by the carnal pleasures it had to offer, but simply because it had the best nightlife I had encountered in a loooong time.
I say nightlife, but like Tokyo itself, Kabukicho NEVER sleeps, so when would I stagger out of one bar as it closed at 6 am I could continue my binge at the next one that had just opened, catering to those like me, who think too much is never enough, and that there are only two choices, go hard or go home.

This might sound rough, and it is, but if Tokyoites know how to party, they sure as hell know how to bring that beaten, broken, alcohol soaked body back to life.
24/7 bathhouses, capsule hotels and manga-cafes serve as safe havens for the weary and provide the body and the mind with rest, relaxation and free (soft) drinks to get rid of the bastards hammering your brain with tiny sledgehammers and the lizards that are always just out of sight.
I got to know these places quite well, as after spending a week at a friends place in a luxurious high rise in one of the fanciest parts of Tokyo, I suddenly found myself walking the beat with my backpack, somehow so distracted from the reality of my situation that I didn't even try to find a hostel to stay at. Must have been all the shiny, pretty lights. Or the jaeger...
Aaanyway, a night at a manga-cafe is cheaper than most guesthouses, and besides internet, TV and all the manga in the world you get shower and free drinks. Many people actually go to these "manga-kissas" just to sleep.
Another favourite for catching a bit of shut-eye is the JR Yamanote-line, a train that runs a full circle around the centre of Tokyo, so you never need to get off. Some people buy the cheapest ticket and get on the train to read manga, as the trains have air con, a luxury many cannot afford.

Now before you start sending me the numbers and addresses of your local AA-club, I want to point out that I did do stuff in Tokyo and the surrounding areas besides trying to find the meaning of life at the bottom of a pint, but I will cover those adventures in another post, as this is starting to drag on, and I already used my potato joke.

This is what I woke up to every morning for a week.

A river under a highway? Sure, why not.

The foot of Tokyo Tower and a conveniently parked lambo.

The building I was staying in as seen from Tokyo Tower. (Yeah, the tall red one.)

The headquarters of Asahi and Tokyo Skytree.

The view from the top of the Skytree.
(Fuck that film on the glass that ruined all the pictures I took.)

Entrance to Senso-ji-temple in Asakusa.

I don't get the hype about Shibuya crossing.
I mean, we have one just like it in my hometown, Turku.

A street level view of Shibuya crossing.

Kabukicho, home to restaurants, bars, clubs, hosts and hostesses,
love hotels, yakuza and ME!

Vladivostok

Current location: Tokyo, Japan

The final 4 days of my Trans-Siberian experience brought me to rainy Vladivostok.
Equipped with a piece of paper carrying a name, an address and a number of a bus I set out to find my host, Roman. After wandering about in the soaked hills of Vladivostok for a few hours I finally located his apartment, and he was really surprised to see me, as I had not confirmed my arrival.

My first order of business was to secure a ticket out of the country, as my visa was about to expire, and I didn't want to get in trouble with the Russian authorities due to overstay. I've done that before in Indonesia, and the matter was solved by paying the fine right there at the border, but for some reason I figured it wouldn't go down so easily in Russia.
As my research in Irkutsk had revealed the ferry I wanted to take only operated on Wednesdays, and the next boat having been booked full, my only option was to fly. So much for my plan not to fly on this trip.
So I bought a 200 euro ticket straight from Vladivostok to Haneda, Tokyo.

With the ticket safely under my belt I set out to explore the city that is home to the longest cable-stayed bridge in the world.
The next day the rain was gone and replaced by scorching sunshine, which of course meant that I soon acquired that oh so typical reddish glow on my face, neck and arms.
People say Vladivostok is only interesting for a couple of days, but I think I could've spent a week or two there without getting too bored. As usual I wandered around town without much sense of where I was actually going, but managed to find a couple of interesting places.

The city offers much to the concerned photographer, but when I point my Cannon at something the result is more like what you would expect to get if you handed a camera to a macaque overdozing on caffeine.
I've actually named my style of photography. I call it "suppressive fire". To those of you not familiar with military jargon, it basically means I point my camera somewhere and pull the trigger for a while and hope I get a good picture or two.

I visited Russky Island, which sports numerous old forts, artillery stations, underground passages and garrisons, to check out some of the artillery units which, while still perfectly operational, now serve as tourist attractions and got a tour at one of them by the old commander of the unit, a lieutenant-colonel turned tour guide.

On the morning of my flight Roman and I had breakfast on a hill overlooking Vladivostok. On the way down we passed a junkyard guarded by dogs the size of little horses, and having seen similar earlier in Afghanistan I wasn't too worried. Only this time I wasn't wearing body armour and carrying a rifle. And sure enough, one of them charged me from just outside my field of vision. Had Roman not called it out the damn thing would surely have caught my forearm in it's jaws and ripped me to pieces, but I just managed to pull my arm to safety, and the beast only caught the hem of my shirt a bit. That was the beginning of a day that would turn from bad to worse.

I had checked how to get to the airport in time for my flight and left early to enable at least an hour of getting lost or otherwise finding the right bus etc. I got downtown easily enough, and then found the place where the bus to the airport was supposed to leave from every half an hour. I waited almost an hour for the damn thing. When I got to the bus I was a little worried, but as the ride was supposed to take two hours or so, and I had at least two and a half left, I felt I could still make it. I got on the bus and fell asleep. I later heard from fellow passengers that there had been roadworks and a broken down truck on the way to slow us down, and once I woke up at the airport I only had 5 minutes to go. So I ran to my gate, only to hear that check-in had closed a couple of minutes earlier. FML.
Okay, I just need to change my ticket, right? No can do. In fact, the only flight to Tokyo before Monday was on the same day, and would fly via Seoul. I'll take that, how much? 600 fucking euros. You can get a flight from Finland to Thailand and back with that!
Oh what the hell! It's only money, right? So after maxing my credit card, still coming up short and having to change some dollars I was lucky to have on me to buy the ticket I had to run to the gate just to be the last person to check-in before the gate closed.

People, don't travel like I do. Do your research in time. Know what you're doing. Know where you're going. Seriously, it'll save you money and while excitement is good, that gripping sensation in your gut will get old pretty fast...
 

NOT The longest cable-stayed bridge in the world.

THE Longest cable-stayed bridge in the world.

Brought on site from a dismanteled warship, this unit
will shrug off a direct hit from a 1000 kilo shell.

This bad boy will pour 500 kilos of hate and disregard on your enemies
at a rate of 3 shots every minute, to a distance of 35 km.
If your neighbour has one of these, you'd better return that lawnmower in time...

Above mentioned hate and disregard in the form of high explosive shells.

Where the magic happens.



On a less violent side of things, here's a ferris wheel and some yachts.

Back to business. A WWII sub turned museum.

Not a place for the claustrophobic.

Fuck breakfast at bed. I want my cup of joe on top of a friggin' mountain.



Oh, sorry for the long post. Here's a potato. (A pot-AY-to, mind you.)

Irkutsk & Lake Baikal

Current location: Tokyo, Japan

Seems like it's about time to start bringing this blog up to speed. So here goes.

 I spent a week in Irkutsk, walking around and admiring the old buildings, which for some reason brought to mind Vientiane and Phnom Phen. For a while this seemed odd to me, but then I learned that when the city burned down they brought architects from Europe to rebuild it, and as it happens, when the French were laying down the law in South East Asia, they liked to build the cities in the way of the Old Country.
I think they even call Irkutsk the Paris of the East, but having never been to Paris, I can't say if there is any resemblance. (Though my host Phillip ventured that the people who coined the name had probably never been to Paris either.)
Not that the town is all European. Large parts were spared by the fire, and these parts are still mostly original wooden houses, which seem to grow out of the ground.

After a week in Irkutsk I made a trip to Listvyanka, and went scuba diving in Lake Baikal.
The lake being pretty damn deep, and my license only allowing me to dive to 18 meters, I mostly just hovered by this seemingly never ending slope.

I also made a two-day trip to the island of Olkhon, where I rode a mountain bike in the woods, checked out one of the holiest buddhist stupas in the world, and drank from a revered spring.

A graveyard in Irkutsk.



Apparently in Russia the graveyards are not maintained,
and they just let nature take over. Which I think is nice.



These old-ass wooden houses just grow from the pavement.

The Shaman rock in Huzir, Olkhon.

Lakeside in Listvyanka.

A loooong sandy beach on Olkhon.

The Tabljetka, a trusted Siberian beast of burden.