Day 6: part 2 - Gakushuin University

I enjoyed the walk through the residential neighborhood before I got to Meijiro Station, where Gakushuin University is. My friend whom I was to meet was a professor there. Since I got there quite early, I decided to walk along the main street to see what I might come across. One thing that really stood out for me in this neighborhood was that the streets were lined with trees. Outside of a park, I had never seen so many trees in Tokyo. It was quite pleasant, and gave a welcoming charm to the place.

I still had some time to kill, so when I saw the used bookstore, I walked in an browsed. I asked where the English books were, and she directed me downstairs. There was a very small and weak collection of foreign books, but that didn't bother me; I was in Japan, wasn't I? Instead I started to go through the manga selection. There were many, many comics to browse through. There were several that I could recognize, and I would flip through the pages. One thing that has surprised me, not so much about this store, but others, is that costumers are allowed to browse through books and magazines so freely anywhere. Since this is a bookstore, I don't especially find it odd that people might pick up a book, and sit and read the whole thing in the store; this happens in American bookstores as well. But I am surprised that the same thing happens at convenience stores. People will stand in front of the magazine stand, and just read the whole manga, right there in the store, without even buying it. I imagine they came into the store just to read, and then leave as soon as they are finished, without ever buying anything. I remember when I was a kid that the ethnic clerk at the local convenience store would always scream and yell at us kids who were not buying anything, "This isn't a library!" Well, apparently here there are many places that don't take that attitude, and so for this one little corner of the convenience store, perhaps it is a library.

I went into McDonalds to buy a small iced coffee while waiting for 12 o'clock to come around. Despite the convenience of so many vending machines all around Tokyo, conveneince stores and McDonald's have what I think is the best deal. Every morning I run into a 7-11 for a big carton of orange juice for around 70 yen (the equivalent to about 70 cents). But for coffee, few things beat McDonald's 100 yen iced coffee. Even though the convenience stores and markets might have something a bit cheaper, there are two benefits I find with the McDonald's coffee. The first is that I get to mix it the way I like, with two creams and two sugars. Testing out different vending machine varieties is like gambling, in that I don't know what I am going to get. Sometimes it's extremely bitter, sometimes it's extremely watery. (The only consistent I can count on from the vending machines is the wonderfully named Pocari Sweat, which is basically like Gatorade.) The second benefit to buying the coffee from McDonald's is the price. For one thing, it is less cost for more drink than many of the vending machines. But where it beats the convenience stores is that at 100 yen, I don't have to walk around with useless tin 1 yen coins I get back as change that I have amassed by buying food and drink from the convenience stores. These coins seem to be accepted nowhere, by nobody, yet mysteriously take up space but not weight since they are made of what seems to be tin. For 100 yen, I give the one coin to the cashier at McDonald's and it is a neat exchange for coffee, not an exchange for coffee and little pieces of metal garbage.

Waiting for my friend, it dawned on me that I had only met him once, and only for a short time, so I was scared that I might not recognize him, or that he might not recognize me. In fact, this was a fear that I had with my friend whom I had met earlier in Osaka and the previous night after arriving in Tokyo. In both cases, despite the fact that I could not picture their faces in my head, once I saw them, I instantly recognized them; I wasn't sure that would happen this time, but it did, so there was no problem.

After greeting him, and thinking him for meeting me, I followed my friend through a maze of alleys to a tempura restaurant. I had told him that I would eat anything, so I wasn't going to confess that this was the exact same thing I had for dinner the previous night. I still enjoyed it, and the conversation about acadmics, politics, and teaching that we had as he showed me around the Gakushuin University. The school was out for the summer break, so there were not many people on the campus as if it were a school day, but the dense trees and natural surroundings gave a beautiful atomosphere where I would love to study, and I remarked that I love the thick sound of cicadas chirping in the tress. They remind me not just of a Japanese haiku poem by Basho, but also of sitting on a patio in my family's village in Argos, Greece.

Day 6: part 1 - Ikebukuro

Today would be a simple day, I decided. I didn't really want to do too much, and I wanted to regroup, and be able to be brain dead for at least a day, and besides two things I had to do, I didn't have to do anything that I felt obligated to do.

The first thing I had to do was get cash. I felt like the cash in my pocket was running out, and since it seemed that I could not get cash anywhere but a Citibank location, I had to think of that first. I could have gone to the same place in Marunouchi where I had found the first Citibank. The problem with going there is that it was out of the way from where I had to meet a friend later. I remembered from when I was here before, that there was a Citibank branch in Ikebukuro, and Ikebukuro was very close to where I was to meet my friend. So that's where I started the day.

Being in Ikebukuro brought back memories because this was the first stop in Tokyo from Saitama, where I lived a few years back. Therefore, this was my first experience of big city Tokyo in Japan. I walked around the busy side of the train station, completely forgetting that I was supposed to find the Citibank and get cash. I found a movie theatre, and wished that I could watch a new Japanese film, but my language skills preclude that, and they did not show the movie with English subtitles. I guess I will have to wait for the American release (maybe not for a year or more). I then passed the BIC camera store that helped me so much with my photography several years ago, and the Junkudo bookstore that had a great selection of English language books. However, it was too early in the morning, and many of these stores were closed, so I was just walking around amongst all the people rushing to work in the morning. This was fine with me. Only after making the decision that I should just walk down to the next station to meet my friend, did I remember to find a Citibank to get cash for my soon-to-be empty wallet. I only took a few steps, though, before I found a different Citibank branch, and got what I needed.

Since it was only one train stop away, and it was at least two hours before I had to meet my friend, I decided that I would simply walk there, and appreciate the lay of the land. Of course, as I first started out, I went in the wrong direction. I couldn't tell you what made me realize this, but at some point something did not feel like I was going the right way, and so I turned around. I finally came to a posted map, and it confirmed my fear. I was happy that I turned around when I did.

Leaving Ikebukuro, I saw a crowd of people. Many men were standing in line. I tried to figure out what it was for. There was a sign for AKB48, the Japanese all girl Pop group that is very popular and is on many signs and advertisements throughout the city. Could this large group of middle-aged men really be in line to see this group? It seemed a bit perverted, actually. I looked at the sign again, this time more carefully. I determined that they were not in line to see the group, but rather they were in line to enter the pachinko gambling hall where today a new machine was being unveiled. Can you guess who was featured on the new machine? It made me wonder if guys who don't have to work on Monday morning, and instead spend it playing pachinko really care who is on their machine. That is, were they in line to enter the pachinko parlour because there was a new AKB48 pachinko machine, or were they in line to enter the pachinko parlour because it was Monday?

Day 4: part 6 - Hiroshima Castle (Delayed Post)

Despite the near constant rain while I was in Hiroshima, I really liked the atmosophere and layout of the city. To be sure, it had all of the anemities that Tokyo or Osaka have (perhaps in fewer amount, though), but it was small enough to be navigable on foot. This is something that really attracted me to the city once I got my groundings, and moved around.

After leaving from the atomic bomb memorial, I decided that since I was half way around the world from my home, I might as well see Hiroshima castle, which was only a little bit more of a walk away. Following the map I had picked up from the information booth, I traced the path that I would have to make. On the way, however, I got distracted by a busy pedestrian street with all sorts of stores. It was these little streets that I have been enamored with since the first time I was in Japan. It seems as though this is where the life of each of the neighborhoods expresses itself, and where people congregate.

One thing that still impresses me about Japan is that video game arcades still exist. This species of store seems to be all but extinct in America. However, these were the places where I spent so many fun nights in my youth. So even today, if I see one, I am drawn in my the ringing bells, flashing neon lights, and moving sprites on big screens. These arcades in Japan have all sorts of games that have fighting, racing, sports, even grab the prize machines, and also gambling machines. I was familiar enough with pachinko games, where the player hopes that ball berrings fall in the right space to win, but what surprised me besides the intense fog of cigarette smoke in this room was that people were gambling on video horse racing; they aren't even real horses that they are watching race! If that is the case, then why even wait for the result? Why not just play a game where random numbers pop up faster? I suppose I am missing something about the psychology of the experience. (For example, the fact that they have to watch an animated race keeps them from wasting all their money too quickly; perhaps, afterall, there is some entertainment value in watching animated horses race.)

After leaving the video game arcade, I then made my way to Hiroshima Castle. One engineering feature that I found interesing before getting to the park was that on many of the busier main streets, the crosswalks were taken out of the equation, and people make their way to the otherside of the street from underground passages. I suppose this helps with traffic, and significantly decreases the possibility of pedestrian accidents, as well as speeds up the pedestrian's ability to cross the street; she no longer has to wait for the walk signal, and automobiles no longer have to wait for people to cross the street to make a right or left turn. One drawback of this feature, however, is that for that portion of your walk, you are in a dark and dreary underground passage. It reminded me of a dungeon. Even on a day like this where there was so much rain, I still prefer to be outside and feel fresh air on my skin and in my lungs.

Anyway, back to Hiroshima Castle. In addition to being an important focal point for the region in the medieval era, these grounds also served as a headquarters for the military during World War II. Nothing of such buildings remained besides the foundations, and a plaque that told me what these bricks used to be.

At this point in the day, I was really feeling tired. I had been on my feet walking this way or that for around 8 hours. After seeing Hiroshima Castle and then walking to the train station, it would be 9 hours. So although the museum housed by the castle had many rich artifacts and retold the story of the city during the medieval period, I felt that perhaps I raced through it rather quickly. I know that I must have been tired and impatient because they offered visitors to try on samurai armor and take a picture... for free! (I remember that at Osaka Castle, they charged a fee.) This is mostly for children, but I wish I took advantage of this. But I was worn out, and I knew that before I got back to the hotel and was able to sleep, I would have to walk back to Hiroshima train station, take a 90 minute trip to Osaka, and then another 30 minutes on the train through Osaka to my bed.

Day 5: part 4 - Capsule hotel

My plan from the beginning of this trip was to see as much as I could while spending as little money as possible. I have already explained that without planning, this proved to be overly difficult. However, once I bit the bullet, and decided to plan ahead for the rest of my trip, I got what must be the cheapest hotel in Tokyo.

Throughout Tokyo there are many Capsule hotels that are basically stacked coffins that you pay for and sleep in. I was looking for these types of accomodations from the beginning, but they don't exactly advertise themselves as such from the street. My new hotel is this sort of lodging, but it does not say capsule hotel anywhere outside, even in Japanese. I thought that I might share a photo of my foot within this capsule.

This place definitely has a bit of a funk smell when you walk in. It is not the smell that comes from feet, or anything like that, but instead it is the smell of wetness, or dampness, or probably mold, as if the place does not have proper ventilation after many hot showers are drawn. The other disadvantage of this place is that on the other side of the curtain is a dark room with about eight of these capsules. The door to the room is only a slide door, and there is no problem hearing the conversation that the folks outside are having. (There is a community room where I can sit and write and organize what I need to.)

All that said, the price more than makes up for all of these shortcomings (at least within my value set), and I am fortunate to have a disposition such that a lot of these problems really don't bother me. Now I could sleep.

Day 5: part 3 - back to Tokyo to meet a friend

I enjoyed talking with my new dance friends in Yokohama, but I had an appointment to keep with a friend that I was supposed to meet tonight. I felt like I was already late, and I wish that I had the opportunity to call him to tell him I was running late. I certainly was unsure if I would be able to make it to Asakusa in Tokyo within the hour and a half that it was until six o'clock, the time I told him I would meet him. In fact, I didn't even really know how to get to where I was supposed to be.

I just got on the train to Yokohama, and decided that I would try to take the local train as far as I could, and figure it out as I go. I soon realized that if I stayed on this one train, I would basically get to where I needed to go. So the question was whether or not this train would be fast enough to get me there by six. Although I had my friend's phone number, I couldn't find any payphones anywhere, and instead of searching for one, I decided to just go it, and hope for the best.

I had no idea where my hotel was, and Japanese addresses leave a lot to be desired when you are trying to find any place. I got out of the subway station exactly at six o'clock, and I knew that the hotel was nearby, I just didn't know where. If I were by myself, I might try to hunt it down myself, but since I knew someone was waiting for me, I decided to jump in a taxi. A taxi driver should know about the neighborhood well enough to get me where I need to be, right? No. I showed him the address, and he had no idea. He punched it into what seemed like a gps (global positioning system), and nothing came up. Then he pulled out his map, and tried to figure it out. It seemed like we were getting nowhere. Then he looked around, and saw the hotel across the street! He never even drove me anywhere, but I asked him how much I owed him anyway. I figured he deserved a tip, at least. He wouldn't have it, and that was that.

I ran into the hotel five minutes late, and my friend was waiting for me in the lobby. I apologized, but he did not seem too disturbed, and offered me all the time I needed to get settled in. I ran upstairs to my room, dropped off my stuff without really cleaning up, and went back down to meet him.

I didn't really care what we did, or where we ate since everything would be novel to me. He suggested that we check out the new Tokyo Sky Tree. We went to the observatory at the top, and we could see all around Tokyo under the darkness of night. The city below was illuminated, and was quite beautiful. Inside this observatory, however, it was very crowded, and there were people everywhere. I suppose this should have been expected. After making our way around the observatory a few times, we descended, and went for shrimp tempura dinner. I was grateful for the great conversation, and his wonderful hospitality. We parted ways, and I was ready to go to sleep.

Day 5: part 2 - Ohno Kazuo Dance Studio

For people who know me, it might seem quite odd that I would focus so much of this trip to Japan on taking dance classes. Indeed, even for me it seems quite odd. Although I have always been interested in the arts, both from an appreciative standpoint and a as a practitioner, I never really got into dance. Perhaps I felt like it was something that I could not do, but furthermore, that it was an art that was subservient to music, and thus could not stand on its own.

The first time that I really saw a dance performance that I was fascinated by was several years ago in Central Park, New York. A friend had brought me on a whim, and as I watched, it amazed me the relation that the dancers had with their surroundings, the music, and the audience. It was at the moment that I decided that I would try to write a theater peice and coordinate with a choreographer to incorporate dance as the visual medium.

Several years later (one year ago from now, in fact), I began seriously studying postwar Japanese avant-garde art. Of course, there were many examples of happenings that took place in parks and in urban settings. This much I expected since many global artists, especially in America and Europe, were focussed on such things. However, then I came across a chapter on that focussed on new Japanese dance.

Butoh dance was (by most accounts) started by Hijikata Tatsumi and Ohno Kazuo. Of course, they were influenced by Western modern developments in theater and dance (especially from France and Germany), but they also had their own wealth of Japanese cultural historical vein from where they could set out. As I was to learn in the class, embracing dichotomy would be a significant feature of butoh. This was even so from the beginning with the two character of Hijikata and Ohno. Hijikata seemed to embrace the dark side, and Ohno the light side. I couldn't tell you what it is, but something about butoh dance attracted me immensly, and for quite a while, I was only reading books about butoh.

It so came to pass that Hijikata would die at the age of 57 in 1986, but Ohno would live to be 103 when he died in 2010. Until he died, Ohno continued to perform, often dancing while sitting in a chair. He also taught classes at his dance studio, though his son, Ohno Yoshito, would take on most of the teaching duties. Being so obsessed with butoh, I learned about these classes sometime ago, and decided that, despite my absolute lack of dance training or ability, I would attend these classes when I came to Japan. And so here I found myself today.

Ohno Yoshito is still teaching the classes today. I was informed that I should expect the classes to be conducted in Japanese, and if I was fortunate enough, a student might be able to translate for me. This made me quite nervous, but my presupposition was that dance is not a verbal medium, but rather a physical and kinesthetic medium, and as long as I could see how other people were moving, I should be able to follow, at least a little bit. However, Ohno Yoshito spoke plenty of broken English, and I could understand quite well.

Over the course of the two and a half hours, I could try to organize it by breaking it into 6 lessons. The overall theme of each of the lessons remained the same, ultimately, and that was to embrace the dichotomies within us. In each of the lessons, he gave us a prop to help make the complicated concepts concrete.

The first lesson, however, was without a prop. Ohno Yoshito pointed out the studio, and showed us the beams, and the space. He wanted us to be concious of the space. He remarked that Hijikata Tatsumi had been here a long time ago, and was astonished at the magic that the space contained. Ohno-sensei also remarked that his father was still here, and so was Hijikata, and they would be looking down upon us. It was a very spiritual way to start the lesson. He also wanted to remind us that our body would have to be in this space. Body and space: this is what dance is. I suppose that the dichotomy to explore here was self versus environment. He then turned on some music, and told us to dance. Just like that. Since butoh was not a surprise to everyone, I suppose that we all danced the way we had scene in videos, or pictures, or read about. And so, there I moved. I wasn't sure if I was doing it right or not, and afterwards, Ohno would give us no other guidance or feedback other than these spiritual dance sermons that were addressed to everyone.

In order to try to understand what I should do, or what might be the right thing to do, I looked at other people. Amongst the dozen or so of us there were, I tried to gauge quickly whom I should be watching. It seemed clear to me that two students were probably regulars because they were helping not just with dance, but with straightening up, and passing things out. Besides all that, the guy Naruo (I believe his name was) just looked the best, the most athletic, and had an intensity about his eyes the told me he was the person to watch. (Perhaps he was the worst possible person I could have watched; afterall, what do I know about dance? But, looks and appearance can still go a long way to impress me.)

Looking at everyone else, I could also determine a few things about dancers. The first is that they all have ugly feet and toes. Well, not all of them, but most of them. The other thing is that they all wear similar outfits for rehearsals or practice: a dark tshirt, and very loose pants, also dark. I did not pack very well, so I only had a pair of white linen pants that would have to suffice, and a white vneck tshirt. The problem seemed to be that there was a large oval yellow stain at the bottom of one of my pant legs. I wonder where that came from? Maybe I had spilled orange juice on it earlier? Maybe something else?

The second lesson focussed on the dichotomy of strength and weakness. We have to be both strong and weak at the same time, Ohno said. In order to illustrate this point, he gave us each a lump of loose cotton. To illustrate that this cotton was the embodiment of both strength and weakness, he started to pull the strands apart. It was very easy to pull apart when you take a little piece. However, when you ball it back up, and try to pull it apart as a whole, it is strong, and difficult to rip. Interesting. Then he put on music and told us to dance with the cotton. Ok. I just kind of copied what he did, and spied on other people to see where and how to begin. The amazing thing about all this is that once I got started, my body kept moving, and it seemed easy to continue on. I am not sure what that meant, but I felt like I understood something, and I was enjoying myself.

The next lesson focussed on the strength versus weakness again, but with the prop of a bamboo stick. He handed us each a large pole of bamboo. I wondered if he got these from the small bamboo forest that was growing close to his home. He illustrated how the bamboo was strong, and we could not bend it. It was firm and stiff and straight. But it was empty inside. He explained a pun that was difficult for me to understand because of the lack of my Japanese skills. However, "empty," and "body" and "bamboo" seem to all be similar words in the Japanese language, and offer poets a lot for word play. He then asked us to dance with the bamboo, while he played a cd. The first two pieces of music he played were ambient electronic types of music with long chord changes that lack real melody or even rhythm. This time, however, when we were dancing with the bamboo, Ohno played two negro spirituals that sang about a deep river, and another that sang that "I believe." Another difference from the earlier lessons was that after the music finished and we were done dancing, he gave us more information. He reminded us that the woman was singing about searching for her husband, deep in the river, and in the other piece she was singing a proclamation, that she believed! The feedback was directed to the whole group, but he still didn't offer anything individually. He then replayed the music and told us to dance again. After we were finished this time, he asked for an encore, and for us to dance again.

As I am writing this, one of two things dawn on me. Either my own memory or my ability to write about my memory seems deficient in some way so that I cannot portray the full scale of the experience. If I heard someone say the things I am now saying, I would play it off as a hippie-spiritual nonesense experience. Perhaps that is what it was. If that is the case, then I am drinking the kool-aide and I am emersing myself in it. However, it might just be that there is something quite interesting about dance, about the communication that occurs with simple words, music, body, and space weave together and when I can appreciate the interplay of these different dimensions, and try to express something within such a context.

Despite my difficulty in trying to put this into words, I will continue. After completing the lesson with the bamboo, he then asked us to take a plastic flower, and he began. Like the bamboo, the flower's stem is straight up, with the petals looking to the sun. However, we have to remember that the roots of the flower are down, looking into darkness. Ohno then instructed us to dance, simply by walking. Walk with the flower. So we did that. Then he reminded us that although the flower is straight up and down, the Buddhist conception is such that the vertical axis is part of us, so too is the horizontal axis. That is, we have to be both vertical and horizontal. Now dance. I wasn't sure what this meant, but my body moved anyway. And it felt good. He then asked us to imagine a rose bush. What would we see if we were tall, above the rose bush? But then what would we see if we were small, below the rose bush. It seems that our perspectives would change. Whereas when standing we would see the whole rose bush with many flowers, from below we might only see one flower. Dance. Then he asked us to imagine that the flower was sad; remember, we are not sad, it is the flower that is sad. Dance. We were then asked to weep for the dead flower; recalling that after terrible tragedies, we are always reminded that so many humans die, but flowers also die. Dance.

Then next activity was the one I enjoyed the most. It seemed that all of our previous lessons were very isolated, and we were only dancing with ourselves, despite the fact that there were many other people in the room. This became starkingly clear when one of the ladies began to cry as he was describing the dead flower. I felt the draw to move closer to her, and to comfort her in while she was obviously grieving. But I did nothing but watch, and hope that she got would recover from her grief, and continue living on despite whatever loss she had experienced. It is within that context that I especially appreciated when Ohno asked us to get into a circle and hold hands. The metaphor that he used for this activity was the full moon. We would be a full moon. He further explained that duality here, since in Western culture, the full moon is bad (think werewoves), but in the Buddhist conception, a full moon is a thing of beauty, to be appreciated. He stressed that while holding hands, there is no need to forcibly move; movement will just happen. Indeed it did. The first impression I had was that of a Ouija board, and how the lense on the ouija board moves while everyone is touching it, but nobody takes responsibility for the movement. Taking this as a cue, I very lightly held the hands of the two girls on either side of me, and saw where it might go. Nobody took off their clothes, but it was still fun.

The final exercise that Ohno had us perform was to hold a tissue paper inbetween two hands. The challenge was not to hold the tissue; that is easy enough. Instead, he asked us to hold our hands as close together as the tissue is thin. He reminded us that to let go of the tissue is easy. To clasp the tissue is also easy. However, it is difficult to keep our hands a tissue's thickness apart. Then he told us to dance with the tissue.

After the two hours were up, he set out tea for us to drink, as well as snacks. I thought this was very kind, and it fostered a community environment with the other dancers. We all talked about our experiences, where we were from, and the like. Before coming to Japan, I had hoped to participate in four of these classes; they are given every Sunday and Tuesday, and since I would be here for two weeks, I should be able to fit in four classes. However, I began to doubt that I wanted to attend these classes, and thought that I might find something more interesting to do, especially since I am not a dancer. After my first class, I have decided that I want to continue on and take as many classes as I can.

Day 5: part 1 - To Yokohama

I started the day this morning knowing that I had to be in Yokohama for a dance class that was scheduled to start at 1. Since I knew that the dance studio was not near the train station, it would be difficult to find, so I tried to give myself plenty of time to get there, knowing that the train ride would be at least 2 hours long.

The Japanese train system is very interesting. Many people describe it as being quite efficient. (I had a discussion with an economist last year about the descrepencies about the attribution of "efficiency." This economist seemed to believe that efficiency was an objective value that was independent of subjective values. What he meant was that all reasonable people should be able to agree if some process is more efficient than another process. However, it is my claim that efficiency is not a universal value, but rather, a process must be seen from a specific perspective in order to be considered efficient. That implies that if the same process were analyzed from a different perspective, it might not be evaluated as being efficient by a different person. On my first trip to Japan six years ago, I gave a lengthy discussion regarding the Japanese rail system from a perspective such that I did not see it as necessarily efficient. I have already spent too much time talking about this here, so I will move on.)

There are the local trains that serve most stations across Japan. But there are also Shinkansen lines that are super express, and really only service the biggest stations. I do not know much about the history of the development of the Japanese rail system, but it seems that to accomodate the shinkansen service, new train stations had to be built in many places. So in Osaka, there is the central Osaka Station, but there is also the ShinOsaka Station (serviced by Shinkansen), or New Osaka station. This means that there is always an extra step before getting to where I need to go; I had to go from ShinOsaka Station to Osaka Station before I was actually in the city center. This is also the case in Yokohama, where there is a Yokohama Station that basically serves as the city center (at least for train service), and also ShinYokohama Station where the shinkansen arrives.

In Osaka, this was not too much of a problem since my main destination was near Osaka station. However, in Yokohama, my main destination was a bit off the beaten path, and so it was a little difficult to figure out, even after arriving at Yokohama Station (the city center hub). After asking several people at information booths about how to best get where I was going, I am proud to say that I was finally able to make it to my destination, Kamihoshikawa Station.

From Kamihoshikawa station, however, was a whole new bag of worms. I had decided against leaving my backpack in a coin locker at Yokohama station. I figured that I wanted to get a bit of a workout since this would be the first dance class of my life. I did not know what to expect besides having to be in shape, and so maybe carrying a bag through this small town would substitute for my lack of exercise over the past 20 years.

But when I got to Kamihoshikawa Station, the bag was starting to weigh no me, and I had wished that I stored it back at Yokohama. It so turned out that fortune would smile upon me once again, and there were a handful of coin lockers in this small station, and I decided then and there that I would store my backpack.

This would turn out to be a great idea because, even though I had a map, the dance studio was very difficult to find. I got lost and turned around in circles many times. Like I said before, it was a very good thing that I planned to be here a couple hours early. I admit that I have a particularly male character defect such that I do not like to ask for directions to any place. (I like to think such a character flaw is actually a good thing, and that it means that I like to explore.) In any case, I also had to admit that this flaw would not be a failing, and that I would ask the first person I saw for help. Because this was a residential neighborhood (and not a main thoroughfare), I did not see anyone except for an old man that I passed several minutes ago. I decided to run back and try to find the old man and see if he could assist me.

Again, fortune smiled on me, I found him, and he was willing to help. He told me that many Westerners came to this neighborhood looking for the dance studio, and many Westerners got lost. He led me all around the neighborhood, up and down hills and steep stairs, around curves and bends, and finally to the simple home and location of the studio. I felt bad because he was an old man, and I suppose that this extra exertion might not be good for his health. I expressed my profound gratitude for his generosity, and could not thank him enough.