My friend Tony and I were out one night in Tokyo and had met up with a few other JETs including our friend Liz who had heard about a group of people who going to climb Mt. Fuji the following week. The price was reasonable, round trip for around $70. We would leave from Omiya Train Station at 3 in the afternoon, get to Mt. Fuji around 7 PM and climb through the night arriving at the peak in time for sun rise at 5 AM. Once we had watched the sunrise we had until 2 PM to get down the mountain and catch the bus back to Omiya.
Either because I was drunk or because Liz spoke with a British accent, the entire process seemed simple. When one of the JETs who had climbed the mountain the previous summer agreed that anyone could do it, we were sold. Hoping to take advantage of her expertise we asked her what she thought we should bring on our hike. "Just be sure to bring a hat for your head" was her only advice.
Before the hike Tony wanted to go shopping for supplies. I agreed to meet him at the supermarket to pick up essentials. The first things Tony went for was a small frying pan. He explained to me that he had a small portable gas stove at his apartment and wanted to be sure he had everything he would need to make breakfast at the top of the mountain. Next we picked up eggs, bread, and bacon. I tried to explain to him that it might be easier for us to just make sandwiches and bring them with us but Tony wouldn't hear of it. "When the rest of the losers are biting into their cold sandwiches" he explained "we'll be eating hot eggs and bacon and drinking tea." I couldn't argue with his enthusiasm and was pretty sure that a hot breakfast on the top of Mt. Fuji would be the best breakfast ever.
The following day I packed my backpack with a sweatshirt, a few candy bars and my camera. I was wearing hiking boots, jeans, a t-shirt, and a baseball cap (following the suggestion to bring a hat for my head). I met up with Tony, we divided the supplies that he had brought between us, and headed for the train station. There were about 30 of us going, mostly Americans whom I didn't know and about a 10 Brits. The person who had arranged for the bus encouraged everyone to get some rest because it would be a long night.
At 7 PM we reached the 5th station of Mt. Fuji. There are 10 stations on the mountain and station 5 is the highest that cars can go. We started climbing at dusk.
By 8 PM it was completely dark and you couldn't see 3 feet in front of you without a flashlight. We had a camping stove, a dozen eggs, half pound of bacon, tea kettle, tea, frying pan but no flashlight. Luckily Liz and another friend Claire had flashlights so up we went.
By 9 PM the temperature had started to drop. I pulled out my sweatshirt and realized that if it got any colder, I was going to be in trouble.
By 10 PM I was in trouble. The temperature had dropped to around 40 degrees and it was cold. Worse yet, I was having a hard time breathing. Having grown up below sea level in Florida had not prepared me for the altitude.
At midnight I was miserable. Every step was an effort. More than that I was angry that the only advice we had received was to bring a hat! How about gloves, winter jacket and an O2 tank?! We decided to lighten our load by making tea. This has always been a puzzle to me but British people can enjoy tea anywhere and anytime and I have to admit that in the freezing night it was really good tea!
By 2 AM we had started to get closer to the summit. This meant that the trail now changed to a series of switch backs. Rather than going straight up we would walk in one direction for about 1000 ft, then turn and go in the opposite direction. At each turn there would be a small hut where vendors sold $10 bottles of water and canisters of air. There were also restrooms but because it is a mountain with no running water all of the waste ran out of holes in the bottom of the floor and down the side of the mountain. This meant that you could smell the approaching turn before you could see it. Worst yet, the path was so packed with tourist hiking to the the top that the closer we got to the top the more it seemed like waiting in a line for a ride at Disney.
At 4:30 AM we reached the peak. We found a place for us to set up our breakfast. I unpacked my bag and fell asleep. As a former cross country runner, Tony had nearly bounded up the mountain and had reserves of energy so he started cooking breakfast. At some point he handed me tea, eggs and bacon and I ate what could have been the best breakfast I have ever had. Then fell back asleep.
Somewhere around 5 or 5:30, the sun came up. I remember someone waking me up and all the Japanese around me yelling "Banzai" and cheering. I saw the sunrise and went back to sleep.
At 6 AM our guide told us that if we were had to start down the mountain to stay on schedule so we started down taking a different route from the one we had come up. The weather was still cold but breakfast had given me some energy. We had also increased the size of our group by one, Cindy from California. She had been traveling alone but had brought along cookies which were a perfect compliment to the tea.
We had been hiking for about two hours when Cindy stumbled and fell. The trail was rocky and her sneakers provided no support. She twisted her ankle badly and started crying. I wasn't sure what to do with a hysterical Californian and the thought of slapping her crossed my mind but that only seems to work in movies. We were tired and cold and Liz and Claire suggested we leave her there. Somehow I convinced everyone that we needed to stick together. We each took turns helping her walk which was becoming more difficult as her ankle had swollen to twice its size. We stopped at the first station we came to and between the 5 of us were able to convey in Japanese that Cindy had hurt her ankle. As it turns out there is no way to get down from the Mt. Fuji except to walk, something I still find hard to believe from a country that has hot tea vending machines next to dirty women's underthings vending machines and life sized robots that greet you in department stores. We kept walking but there was no way we were going to make it by 2.
When we stopped for a break at noon, Liz and Claire were ready to leave Cindy for dead. Tony may have been thinking the same thing but didn't say it out loud. We decided to split up the group. Tony, because he could travel faster than all of us would head down the mountain to make sure the bus did not leave without us. Liz and Claire would stick together and go at their own pace. I would try to help Cindy down the mountain.
At this point we were walking in pea gravel and with every step our boots sank in gravel to mid calf and a plume of volcanic dust erupted around us. I had never known what boot gaiters were for until I saw Japanese walking past us wearing them. The gravel caused us to stop every 20 minutes to empty the rocks in our shoes.
As we continued down there seemed to be no end in sight. Cindy's ankle had started to turn black and blue and as we neared the 2 PM mark she started crying again. Then we heard a rumble behind us. A tractor was on the way down the mountain with a load of trash. We were able to flag down the driver and convinced him to let us ride with him in the back. By the time he dropped us off at the last station we smelled like trash and were covered from head to toe in black volcanic dust. Cindy's face was completely black except where her tears had cut flesh colored streaks into her cheeks. As I made my way to the bathroom I saw that I looked no better. It was 3:30 when we finally made it to bus parking lot but there was no bus to be found.
Cindy and I managed to catch a train back home, something I would have not been able to do without her as I didn't have enough money for the train or understand enough Japanese to get on the right line. I arrived home at 6 PM, called Tony and left a message then took 2 showers. The first one I realized only after stepping out hadn't removed all the dust. Tony later told me that he had insisted the bus stay as late as possible but the driver would not wait because of traffic. They left Mt. Fuji around 3 and didn't get back home until after 8 PM so I had actually beaten him home.
The following year, as the new batch of JETs arrived in Japan, a young girl asked me if I knew anything about climbing Mt. Fuji. Sure, I said, it's a lot of fun; just make sure to bring a hat for your head.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Advice on Getting More Followers
I asked a couple of friends at work today what they thought made a good blog and how I could get more followers. One friend mentioned that I should cuss more and shit, while the other suggested that my postings are too long and have too many "words."
Fucking hope you like this one.
Fucking hope you like this one.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Thank You Sister, May I Have Another
On the way home from work a few months ago there was a story on NPR about the order of nuns who ran the Catholic school I went to. The order had been accused of horrible crimes in Ireland along with other orders that run orphanages there. While those crimes and accusations are horrible it reminded me of some of the innovative discipline strategies the nuns used on us.
Without a doubt my favorite one was "filling up the bowl." If you were got out of line, talked back, or did something you were not supposed to, the sisters would hand you a pair of scissors and a salad bowl and instruct you to cut the grass in the schools court yard. You had to fill the bowl before you could come back into class. The courtyard was not shaded and there seemed to be no air. Somehow the sisters had the power to stop the wind from blowing and increase the power of the sun.
Another popular punishment was being sent to a metal shed to crushing aluminum cans that had been donated to the church. The shed was in the middle of a field and the temperature in there must have been in the 100s on most days. In addition to being filled with cans, there were 1,000s of roaches, rats, spiders, and the occasional snakes. Beyond being able to controlling the sun and wind, the sisters seemed to have the power over bugs and other pests as well.
The power of the nun was on display every day. Maybe the most impressive display came the day the kid behind me was acting up during religion. Without stopping the sister who was teaching the class closed her Bible and threw it across the room in my direction. I watched the book fly through the air straight at my head and at the very last minute it veered, arced, and hit the boy sitting behind me in the back of the head. Needless to say he never acted up again.
Without a doubt the sisters were there to do their best to teach us. It couldn't have been easy and I made sure that I did my job of class clown and pain in the ass as best as I could. Most of the times I was punished I deserved it and in fairness to the nuns, there were good days too. When my wife asked me recently if we wanted to consider sending our kids to Catholic school, my answer was "YES!" not because I think the school is better or the curriculum is more challenging but because if I had to suffer through it so will my kids.
Without a doubt my favorite one was "filling up the bowl." If you were got out of line, talked back, or did something you were not supposed to, the sisters would hand you a pair of scissors and a salad bowl and instruct you to cut the grass in the schools court yard. You had to fill the bowl before you could come back into class. The courtyard was not shaded and there seemed to be no air. Somehow the sisters had the power to stop the wind from blowing and increase the power of the sun.
Another popular punishment was being sent to a metal shed to crushing aluminum cans that had been donated to the church. The shed was in the middle of a field and the temperature in there must have been in the 100s on most days. In addition to being filled with cans, there were 1,000s of roaches, rats, spiders, and the occasional snakes. Beyond being able to controlling the sun and wind, the sisters seemed to have the power over bugs and other pests as well.
The power of the nun was on display every day. Maybe the most impressive display came the day the kid behind me was acting up during religion. Without stopping the sister who was teaching the class closed her Bible and threw it across the room in my direction. I watched the book fly through the air straight at my head and at the very last minute it veered, arced, and hit the boy sitting behind me in the back of the head. Needless to say he never acted up again.
Without a doubt the sisters were there to do their best to teach us. It couldn't have been easy and I made sure that I did my job of class clown and pain in the ass as best as I could. Most of the times I was punished I deserved it and in fairness to the nuns, there were good days too. When my wife asked me recently if we wanted to consider sending our kids to Catholic school, my answer was "YES!" not because I think the school is better or the curriculum is more challenging but because if I had to suffer through it so will my kids.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
You're Sitting On My Rock
One of the very first times I visited New York for work I stayed at a hotel near Times Square. The hotel was perfectly located as every morning I could walk to Rockefeller Center and watch the Today show being taped and in the evening I could walk to Times Square. One evening work let out early and I had a few hours before I had to join my group for dinner. I decided to walk a few blocks to Central Park and enjoy the beautiful Spring weather.
When I arrived at the park I found what seemed to be the perfect place to read and people watch. I had just sat down on a small outcropping of rock and opened my book when I heard a man behind me yell that this was his rock. I turned around to see a very short man. I was sure he was mistaken; after all there were no sign up sheets on the rock that I could see. Maybe there was a reservation desk somewhere near by where rocks could be reserved but I found that highly unlikely.
I thought the best thing to do was to ignore him so I turned back around and started reading again. This seems to work well with the crazy people who talk to you in Florida, pretend that they are not there, but this only infuriated my antagonist. "Oh no he dinint" was the next thing I heard coming from somewhere in the other direction behind me. As I turned around again, the rock's apparent owner had now been joined by three other men-- all equally as small. Before things got out of hand I thought my next approach should be to try to find out what the boys were talking about. I closed my book turned around and stood up, thinking that being twice their size may help them realize that they were mistaken. Before I could get a word out the apparent leader informed me that I was on their rock. "Really" I replied as much amused as annoyed, "prove it?" This seemed to irate him more than anything and he stepped up, close enough so that I could feel his breath on my bellybutton. "We don't have to prove it to you! We come here every day to rehearse!"
At this point I realized that the size of his group had tripled and now there were 9 men and women, all of equal size surrounding me and the rock. Interestingly, I have never seen as much spandex, terry cloth headbands, and leg warmers concentrated in one location.
When I arrived at the park I found what seemed to be the perfect place to read and people watch. I had just sat down on a small outcropping of rock and opened my book when I heard a man behind me yell that this was his rock. I turned around to see a very short man. I was sure he was mistaken; after all there were no sign up sheets on the rock that I could see. Maybe there was a reservation desk somewhere near by where rocks could be reserved but I found that highly unlikely.
I thought the best thing to do was to ignore him so I turned back around and started reading again. This seems to work well with the crazy people who talk to you in Florida, pretend that they are not there, but this only infuriated my antagonist. "Oh no he dinint" was the next thing I heard coming from somewhere in the other direction behind me. As I turned around again, the rock's apparent owner had now been joined by three other men-- all equally as small. Before things got out of hand I thought my next approach should be to try to find out what the boys were talking about. I closed my book turned around and stood up, thinking that being twice their size may help them realize that they were mistaken. Before I could get a word out the apparent leader informed me that I was on their rock. "Really" I replied as much amused as annoyed, "prove it?" This seemed to irate him more than anything and he stepped up, close enough so that I could feel his breath on my bellybutton. "We don't have to prove it to you! We come here every day to rehearse!"
At this point I realized that the size of his group had tripled and now there were 9 men and women, all of equal size surrounding me and the rock. Interestingly, I have never seen as much spandex, terry cloth headbands, and leg warmers concentrated in one location.
My survival instincts kicked in and I thought at best I could take two or three of them but not all nine. I knew I was going to have to move but I wasn't about to make it easy for them. "Alright what do you and your buddies come here to rehearse" I asked. At this point he did what most men would recognize as a chest bump, an invitation to throw down, but his chest only bumped my thigh. "We're actors and we don't have to tell you what we're rehearsing" he hissed into my stomach. "Fair enough" I said, and started to pack my things.
As I walked away I couldn't help but see the headlines had I stood my ground; "Florida Tourist Pummeled by Gang of Dwarfs" or "Out of Towner No Match for Thespians." They had won and were kings and queens of their mountain. My only consolation as I walked away and they started rehearsing was that I had been bested by Mrs. Potts, Lefou, Chip, and several other characters from Beauty and the Beast.
Maybe I Should Do This Alone?
Two years ago I decided to go back to school to work on my MA in Adult Education. It seemed like perfect timing as we had just had our second child, I was working and traveling 3 weeks out of every month and we had just bought our new home. I didn't know what to expect or even if I had it in me to finish my program but I couldn't think of a better time to start.
What I found out early on in my program was that professors love to have students work in groups. My unconfirmed theory is that in a class or 20 people, groups of 2 to 3 people means that the professor only has to grade 6 to 10 papers.
My first class and my first group consisted of me and two women. We got together after we were paired by our professor and we agreed to meet together on the next Sunday. Or project was due in three weeks and would be a timeline. It wasn't overly complicated but there would be a lot of research to get the project where we wanted it to be.
On Sunday, I arrived at the library at our arranged time and waited for my team to show. 30 minutes later and no team I started making calls. The first person I called, we'll call her Jennifer, answered the phone and didn't sound well. She explained that she had fallen down early that day and hit her head. I felt bad for her told her I understood why she hadn't shown up. My other partner, we'll call her Andrea, never answered her phone and the following class meeting didn't show up either. The project was now due in two weeks, when Andrea called to explain that she had come home early from work the Saturday before we were to get together and found her boyfriend in bed with another woman. At least that's what I think she said but can't be sure because of the crying. I explained that we still had plenty of time to put something together and that we still could have a great project.
The next weekend we again agreed to meet on Sunday at the library. Jennifer called me 40 minutes before we were to meet and said she had fallen and hit her head again. I was starting to think she either need to wear a helmet around the house or need to move to a new home with better flooring. Andrea did show up but cried for the two hours we were in the library. Her boyfriend had moved out and had taken all of her CDs. I never saw either of them again after that and ended up doing the project alone and turning it in. We got an A. Three weeks after class ended, I got a letter in the mail with $75 in it from Andrea saying thanks for helping her get through the course. My professor insisted I send back.
The following semester I again ended up in a group that the professor put together. This time is was me and 3 women. Half way through the semester one woman accused me of bullying her into pick our team project and reported me to the college dean. The dean went to the professor, the professor to me. I had no idea what she was talking about and luckily neither did anyone else on my team. We later found out that she had history of accusing teammates of various issues because she did not like working on teams. I was starting to understand why.
During my last semester I took a research course and this time was partnered up with a young man who was a graduate assistant for the football team. He insisted that somehow our project be related to football. I wasn't sure how we could relate anything to football but we came up with a study that would measure which would be more effective for football players, courses taught face-to-face or delivered on-line. I would need him to help run the study. We put together our proposal and started doing research. I never saw him again. I completed the research paper and swore to never work in a group again.
What I found out early on in my program was that professors love to have students work in groups. My unconfirmed theory is that in a class or 20 people, groups of 2 to 3 people means that the professor only has to grade 6 to 10 papers.
My first class and my first group consisted of me and two women. We got together after we were paired by our professor and we agreed to meet together on the next Sunday. Or project was due in three weeks and would be a timeline. It wasn't overly complicated but there would be a lot of research to get the project where we wanted it to be.
On Sunday, I arrived at the library at our arranged time and waited for my team to show. 30 minutes later and no team I started making calls. The first person I called, we'll call her Jennifer, answered the phone and didn't sound well. She explained that she had fallen down early that day and hit her head. I felt bad for her told her I understood why she hadn't shown up. My other partner, we'll call her Andrea, never answered her phone and the following class meeting didn't show up either. The project was now due in two weeks, when Andrea called to explain that she had come home early from work the Saturday before we were to get together and found her boyfriend in bed with another woman. At least that's what I think she said but can't be sure because of the crying. I explained that we still had plenty of time to put something together and that we still could have a great project.
The next weekend we again agreed to meet on Sunday at the library. Jennifer called me 40 minutes before we were to meet and said she had fallen and hit her head again. I was starting to think she either need to wear a helmet around the house or need to move to a new home with better flooring. Andrea did show up but cried for the two hours we were in the library. Her boyfriend had moved out and had taken all of her CDs. I never saw either of them again after that and ended up doing the project alone and turning it in. We got an A. Three weeks after class ended, I got a letter in the mail with $75 in it from Andrea saying thanks for helping her get through the course. My professor insisted I send back.
The following semester I again ended up in a group that the professor put together. This time is was me and 3 women. Half way through the semester one woman accused me of bullying her into pick our team project and reported me to the college dean. The dean went to the professor, the professor to me. I had no idea what she was talking about and luckily neither did anyone else on my team. We later found out that she had history of accusing teammates of various issues because she did not like working on teams. I was starting to understand why.
During my last semester I took a research course and this time was partnered up with a young man who was a graduate assistant for the football team. He insisted that somehow our project be related to football. I wasn't sure how we could relate anything to football but we came up with a study that would measure which would be more effective for football players, courses taught face-to-face or delivered on-line. I would need him to help run the study. We put together our proposal and started doing research. I never saw him again. I completed the research paper and swore to never work in a group again.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
We Did PTA Once... Once
Earlier this week I received a call on my cell phone, work phone, and home phone from the president of the PTA at my son's new school. Normally neither my wife or I are joiners but in the case we felt compelled to take an active part in our son's school. As I rushed home with the kids in the minivan from daycare and Tae Kwon Do, I couldn't help but think this had worst decision of the week written all over it.
We arrived promptly at 6:10 PM for our 6:20 PM meeting, signed in and paid $6 to join for the year. We received our voting card and a gift card for a free box of Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. Things were looking pretty good at this point and I was excited to get started. At 6:40 the president stepped up to the podium and introduced herself. She quickly turned over the meeting to her vice-president because she said she wasn't a good public speaker. Little did she realize, neither was the vice president.
At this point the fake Oreo's and grape flavored punch had started to kick in for both the kids and they were ready to leave. We began by going through the agenda for the nights meeting, 6 copies of which had been passed out to the crowd of 3 dozen. The vice-president explained that they had never had a group this big so they hadn't prepared enough copies. Instead of having an LCD projector to show us the agenda or writing the agenda on the whiteboard the vice-president muttered through each point.
The only thing I did hear was that the meeting was going to end at 7 PM which meant that no matter how much worse this got, there was going to be an end.
The first item on the agenda was to vote on a budget. The issue was that the budget was two printed pages and all 6 copies had been handed out to along with the 6 agendas. 15 minutes later the vice-president finished reading the budget.
At 7:10 PM, I was ready to run to Radio Shack and buy a bullhorn so I could hear what the vice-president was saying.
At 7:20 PM, I was ready to offer a course on effective meetings to the PTA executive committee.
At 7:30 PM, I was ready to leave.
At 7:40 PM, I had lost the will to live.
Finally, mercifully the meeting ended. For some reason people clapped (most likely because they all wanted to leave as badly as I did). On the way out, my wife asked which committees we should sign up for. As she angled towards the sign up sheets I was looking for the secretary to ask her to remove our name from the call list. It's not that I don't want to be involved in my son's schooling, I just have no time for poorly run meetings.
Good luck PTA!
We arrived promptly at 6:10 PM for our 6:20 PM meeting, signed in and paid $6 to join for the year. We received our voting card and a gift card for a free box of Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. Things were looking pretty good at this point and I was excited to get started. At 6:40 the president stepped up to the podium and introduced herself. She quickly turned over the meeting to her vice-president because she said she wasn't a good public speaker. Little did she realize, neither was the vice president.
At this point the fake Oreo's and grape flavored punch had started to kick in for both the kids and they were ready to leave. We began by going through the agenda for the nights meeting, 6 copies of which had been passed out to the crowd of 3 dozen. The vice-president explained that they had never had a group this big so they hadn't prepared enough copies. Instead of having an LCD projector to show us the agenda or writing the agenda on the whiteboard the vice-president muttered through each point.
The only thing I did hear was that the meeting was going to end at 7 PM which meant that no matter how much worse this got, there was going to be an end.
The first item on the agenda was to vote on a budget. The issue was that the budget was two printed pages and all 6 copies had been handed out to along with the 6 agendas. 15 minutes later the vice-president finished reading the budget.
At 7:10 PM, I was ready to run to Radio Shack and buy a bullhorn so I could hear what the vice-president was saying.
At 7:20 PM, I was ready to offer a course on effective meetings to the PTA executive committee.
At 7:30 PM, I was ready to leave.
At 7:40 PM, I had lost the will to live.
Finally, mercifully the meeting ended. For some reason people clapped (most likely because they all wanted to leave as badly as I did). On the way out, my wife asked which committees we should sign up for. As she angled towards the sign up sheets I was looking for the secretary to ask her to remove our name from the call list. It's not that I don't want to be involved in my son's schooling, I just have no time for poorly run meetings.
Good luck PTA!
Jesus Is My Homeboy Too
We recently spent a weekend with the kids at Universal Studios in Orlando, Florida. Normally we shy away from theme parks being Floridians but we had a free pass so it made sense to take the kids. The weekend we picked was the very last weekend available to us to use our pass. Little did we realize that it was also the same weekend of Rock the Universe 2009, a Christian music festival billed as "A Weekend of Music and Thrills That'll Rock Your Soul." Thousands of kids and families from hundreds of youth groups around the country were there to rock their sandals off.
What I found so surprising was that the kids were so proud of their Christianity and their faith that they felt compelled to put it on their t-shirts. Here is a sample of some of my favorites:
- Jesus Did It (in the same font of the Nike, Just do it logo)
- Jesus Loves Me and My Tattoos (if you'd seen her tattoos, you might wonder)
- God is My Hero (with the same font as Guitar Hero and the guitar fret--copy write infringement?)
- Satan Sucks (I'm sure he does)
- Hii died for Mii (and something that looked like a Wii)
- Jesus is my Homeboy (a classic that never goes out of style)
- got jesus? (yup, and milk too)
- Killed in the Line of Duty (my personal favorite as it had the police chalk outline of Jesus on the Cross--very creative)
So, overall a fun weekend at Universal and who doesn't love watching pimply kids from Oklahoma rocking out, hands held high in the air to "Trust in the Lord." I know I do.
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