Conquering Fuji

Climbing Fuji had been on my mind for a long while—just knowing that it’s possible for an average hiker to scale its iconic mass was enough to keep it in the forefront of my thoughts every time I gazed at it.  It towers above the surrounding hills, sometimes masked with haze, sometimes awash in sunlight, its textures vibrantly sharp, but always larger than life—a waiting colossus on the horizon.  In fact, I’d wanted to hike it as soon as possible after arriving in Shizuoka city the summer before, except that I had literally set my bags down in my new apartment a day or two after the official hiking season had closed for the year.  You can climb the mountain at any time, however July and August make up the period when it is relatively snow free, particularly the coldest area near the summit, and considered the safest.  I’m no mountain climber and therefore had to contend with waiting for a year to go by before I could finally set out to hike Fuji-san.
              

Pilgrimage to Hiroshima

My journey begins on a Thursday.  My friend James and I hop on a train; he’s heading for Kyoto, at which point we’ll split ways and I’ll continue on down the line.  Even riding the Hikari Super Express for most of the way, this would be a four hour trip, travelling a large length of Honshu island.  Time passed, I waved bye to James at Kyoto and watched the five pagodas of Toji temple there rising above the buildings as the shinkansen gathered speed.  Then Kyoto was behind us and Japan began to fly past outside.  In Okayama I switched trains and got on another Super Express—this one was not stopping until it reached Hiroshima.  This was the final leg of the journey to the city itself.  Strangely, as I drew closer I began to feel a slight restlessness, almost like nervousness.  I had wanted to come here for so long, to see this place, and now I was finally drawing near for the first time.  When the recording announced that we would be arriving at Hiroshima station in a few minutes my teeth actually began to itch for some reason.  Then the city was passing by on both sides and I was staring wide eyed out the window to see what I could see.  From the vantage point of the train windows I saw mostly another city, albeit with this one filled with more green than any other I’d been to so far; many tree-rich hills rose out of the earth, the houses and buildings built around them, rather than over them, of course.  Many cities in Japan should be marveled at sometimes, for the fact that a great number of them, especially major ones, were bombed into decimated ruins during World War II, but have come back in spreading metropolitan full force.  Hiroshima is special though of course, along with Nagasaki on Kyushu island, and looking out the window, watching the city fly by as we headed deeper towards its central station, I knew that I was looking at a place once incinerated by an atomic bomb. 

Four Days in Kyoto

 I had three days in a hostel booked, during one of the busiest weeks of the year for Kyoto (the others being Japan's Golden Week in April and the week of Obon in August) assuming I’d get my fill easily in that time.  For all I've seen, and for the night extra I pulled off, I can promise you that I woke up this morning in an air of regret, because four days in Kyoto could never be enough.  I count myself as fortunate for the time I had anyway.  Kyoto is a city unlike any other, and I happened to be there at the turning of New Years.