Maybe the time has finally come. My addiction to traveling is slowing down. It's hard to describe exactly what "traveling" is. Perhaps it is physically moving one's body from place to place. Some have claimed it is a state of mind that keeps one forever wandering and exploring. Others say it is more like "being" in the present moment. But, my original title for this blog seems to have been lost on me as of late.
It was sort of created on the fly... during or between one of my tromps to South America or driving all over California or the desert Southwest. I am lost about my own history now as the years of moving have begun to blur together. Even recently, my Japanese years are blending together and I realize that I have indeed been here for years. This has not been an escapade putzing around in some far away la-la-land... an adventure without purpose.
It may have started like that, but in the adventure and settling down in the adventure, I have come to terms with something new. This IS life... not just a part of it. Sure it is a chapter, but it is altogether real and important. I have come to terms with what makes me tick, I have mapped out my dreams and I am excited to get started with them.
Years ago, my grandmother laughed at me and said, "Get it out of your system, Dave. One day you will settle down and appreciate your life even more for having spent all of that energy." Maybe not exactly in those words, but I couldn't fathom the truth she was speaking. I reckoned that I would be young forever, always on the move and exploring to my heart's content.
I will always be young forever (and handsome too, might I add!) but this youth is taking on a new form. It is still vibrant, full of life, and looking at the world with open eyes- like those of the 14-year-olds who I watched graduate from Myojo Jr High today. (I took the day off to attend the graduation ceremony at the school at which I used to teach.) But the constant need to move and cover ground is falling by the wayside. I think it is because I have exhausted quite a bit of my energy to do so. It seems that my life is beginning to resemble that prophecy that I tried to discard.
I will always love traveling, exploring and seeing new places, but I am yearning for a change... which embodies characteristics of a different nature. It is hard for me to come to terms with it all because it is so foreign to the way I have been living for the past ten years... but it feels good and natural to be slowing down and focusing on staying put a little more.
I won't jump to conclusions, but I think I have accepted my addiction to traveling. And it has "cured" itself. Like I wrote above, it is a problem that I will have my entire life, but in accepting it, I have learned to live with it- not to fight or resist it, but to love it for what it is. I can't expect to have control of it, but it no longer has control of me either. It is an impulse and a feeling, one that has run my life for as long as I can remember.
But now, as this addiction still beats through my veins, with every pump of my heart, it serves as but only a guide... to guide my thoughts and actions to listen to that very heart... the heart that encourages me, in every passionate moment that I am gifted, to live and to love.
2010-03-12
2010-03-01
A month late(r) and a couple bucks short
I blew it on my last post... it wasn't a month and a half... it was exactly two months. And again, I find myself with some limited access and on the 2nd of the month.
So long as I am allowed to publish this, I will write something.
And if my work server doesn't allow this post to post, then at least I will have written something to get the flow out of this full head of mine.
Last weekend I played soccer. It was a gorgeous day and the weather was pretty warm for the end of February. Being ever so vulturous on the field, I waited around the top of the box during my team's corner kick. For some unknown reason I sprinted to the opposite side of the box as the ball was about to be kicked. When it arrived to my head I slammed it so hard into the back of the net that I wasn't even sure what had happened. There was a moment of silence as everyone processed that I had scored a goal- coming in completely unmarked and undetected to head the perfect cross into the top of the net. I don't even think the goalie knew where the ball was while one of his members retrieved the ball and brought it to the center of the field.
One win, one loss and two draws in four games. I had one of my team's three total goals and I managed to defend a goal when the keeper was out, with a header also, keeping my team in the match. I defended a dude who turned me and put it into the back of our net, but I managed to tackle him later in the game to prevent another goal... and get the call in our favor. My knee did bust open as a result of the collision, but I had to take that foul. It was a great day and two days later I am still limping along with muscle pains and a knee that is healing rather nicely, albeit slowly.
What else?
I went snowboarding in Hiroshima/Shimane/Yamaguchi with a group of JETs for a weekend in early Feb. The snow was a lot like sugar at the base, but it was good practice. On that day I got clipped by a dude while I was sitting on the hill, talking to a friend. I didn't even see the dude coming- it could have been horrendous. No damage to me besides some frazzled nerves and a tiny chip in the tail of my board that won't affect performance. The next run down, I was getting my carve on and a dude on skate skis hit me from my blindside. Granted I was all over the hill, but my turns were precise and predictable. The dude couldn't have not seen me, and I obviously didn't see him. Only when he was about to hit me did I manage to catch him in my peripheral vision brace for an impact. He hit my board on the bottom side with the tips of his skis. That was an interesting situation. He hit my board directly where I had scratched it on some rocks two years earlier. This meant two things. Firstly, no damage to the board.
He apologized to me, but I didnt say anything as I checked my board and body for damage. We sat there for a minute in silence and I refused to say anything to him. He had the entire mountain to ski and chose a line but chose to hit me rather than move from it. I can't blame him, but I certainly didn't need to apologize to him for hitting me or excuse myself for being in his way. After the awkwardness, he went down a bit to meet a friend. Upon going down the mountain, I rode past them and then said sorry. I meant it in terms of "sorry that valued my board more than your health." Though it was hard to do, I did mean that apology.
Second important point here: My carving was so awesome (self-glorification) at that time, that the dude hit the bottom of my board. That means my board was totally on the edge and that I was completely in the right position in terms of body weight, balance and speed for the slope of the mountain at that place and and time. Though the collision was an abrupt stop to my flow, I managed to analyze my riding which was damn near perfect right then.
The following week, I went to Hokkaido by myself (again!) In one over-played and abused word by fake snowboarders who have no idea what it actually means or feels like, Hokkaido was "Epic." I arrived to Sapporo after work, checked into my hotel and made a B-lined for a local shop for authentic Sapporo Miso Ramen. It was amazing and warmed my core enough to head out into the minus six degree weather. Then I caught up with my Romanian friends who I had met on my first tour of Hokkaido. Their boy is growing up fast and they were still energetic and working hard. We toured the famous 雪祭り Yuki Matsuri (Snow Festival) and saw some huge works of art, all carved out of snow. Upon saying farewell to them, I strolled towards the red-light area to view the ice sculpture festival. I ran into a group of Fukuoka JETs and we toured the cool stuff there. They headed to karaoke and I went back to my hotel.
Woke up early to the snow coming down in the city. It didn't stop snowing for two days. After my minshuku (bed and breakfast) hosts picked me up (I love Ambitious Niseko!) I hit the slopes for the first of three days on the hill. It was incredible. Sooooo much snow. Lighter than Nagano, that's for sure. Just like I remembered it. I was toasted early because my legs were not ready for powder conditions. Onsen and delicious food before bed was awesome. The next day, it just dumped. It was absurd. I hiked a couple of backcountry gates- hit the back bowl and then I went off the top in the afternoon. Toasted again and as I waited for my ride, the sun came out and warmed the vibe and my chilled hands! Great day.
The last day started like any other- got up early, hit the slopes and rock and roll. But I decided to ride one run with a dude from my minshuku. We had fun and I was supposed to meet the JETs on the other side of the mountain. As the adage goes, "No friends on a powder day..." I had to postpone my meeting with them until lunch. I convinced him to come backcountry with me and we were about to gear up when another dude from the minshuku turned around and greted us. The three of us got across the bowl and then went down... it was a great run and we were three of the first people out there, so we had freshies nearly the entire way down.
But you have read this far and expect to hear something amazing, so I shall indeed share with you the reason that I earlier described this trip as Epic. The first dude wasn't keen on the backcountry, so he vied to ride on his own. The second dude and I decided to hit the peak because the sun was out for a bit. He wanted to show me something, he said. We took our time to hike the first peak and from there we had a view that I never saw on my first trip. We were on the top point of what used to be an active volcano. I could clearly distinguish the rim of the volcano and how it exploded, based on the steepness of various slopes. We pointed out dangerous places and the best lines to take. He pointed in the distance, but I wasn't sure what he was talking about. Nonetheless, I encouraged him to stop flirting with the snow bunnies that we met so we could go hit the powder. He obliged hesitantly.
We hiked to the next peak, where there were a ton of people coming up from another access gate. They all went back down the face, through powder of course, but back towards the resorts. My man pointed in the opposite direction... down the backside ridge and towards the main gully we had ridden earlier. I strapped on and followed him along a wavy snowblown ridge for about fifteen minutes. We descended pretty far as I watched some people dropping into the powder all around us. I was itchin to get in it, but he insisted that we follow the ridge more. Over huge drifts and jumping into powder, we eventually made it the bowl he had described. It was completely clean. Not a single track, not a soul around and a perfect blue sky under which to ride. He wanted to traverse the ridge around the other side, but I had already stopped in the powder and had no other way out. He let me go first.
I stood on the edge of a windblown cornice with about a ten foot drop. They were certain avalanche conditions and I had no avalanche gear on me. I hadn't had my heart racing that fast in a long time. I know the dangers of triggering one of those bad boys and realized that I probably should have had some gear. But this pitch wasn't too steep... and there was no other way out, so I had to go for it. I edged off and dropped a long second before falling into deep powder. No sooner had I landed than I realized I was floating. The world was flying by me, the trees below me were slowly beginning to get closer. I felt like I wasn't moving. I was in fact flying... on powder so fresh and new and clean that there was zero friction with my board. I turned a couple of times to ensure that, in fact, I was still in control... and then took about a minute of free fall in any direction I chose. Where I looked, I went. Those were impeccible moments of silence, bliss, pure, white. Winter. Wind on my face was the only indication that I was indeed moving and the stronger the wind, the faster I was going. I controlled my movements based on what the nerves on my upper cheeks (behind a thick beard) told me.
I waited for my friend as he took a clean line from the opposite side of that hidden bowl. Afterwards all I could do was smile. We found our way out of the secondary gully into which we had descended and back to the resort from whence we started. We wanted to run it back, but I insisted on meeting and inviting a friend who was on the other side. We spoke of a rendezvous on the top in the afternoon, but I got caught up with the friends and took some time to warm up... it was minus ten afterall! Later, he told me that when he went back that the vis was pretty low, but that where were only two tracks there! He also said that only people from Fukuoka know about it... so I agreed with his implication and am keeping that secret with me now!
In 28 years, that was one of the best moments on a board. Part of this experience is the atmosphere in which one rides... weather, company, equipment. But to feel the mountain. To understand how its slopes fall. To come to terms with how it was created out of powerful forces of plate movement, lava and energy. Those are undescribable feelings. The mountain doesn't speak, but we can understand it if we are in a place- physically, mentally, spiritually- to hear it. My trip to Hokkaido was Epic.
So long as I am allowed to publish this, I will write something.
And if my work server doesn't allow this post to post, then at least I will have written something to get the flow out of this full head of mine.
Last weekend I played soccer. It was a gorgeous day and the weather was pretty warm for the end of February. Being ever so vulturous on the field, I waited around the top of the box during my team's corner kick. For some unknown reason I sprinted to the opposite side of the box as the ball was about to be kicked. When it arrived to my head I slammed it so hard into the back of the net that I wasn't even sure what had happened. There was a moment of silence as everyone processed that I had scored a goal- coming in completely unmarked and undetected to head the perfect cross into the top of the net. I don't even think the goalie knew where the ball was while one of his members retrieved the ball and brought it to the center of the field.
One win, one loss and two draws in four games. I had one of my team's three total goals and I managed to defend a goal when the keeper was out, with a header also, keeping my team in the match. I defended a dude who turned me and put it into the back of our net, but I managed to tackle him later in the game to prevent another goal... and get the call in our favor. My knee did bust open as a result of the collision, but I had to take that foul. It was a great day and two days later I am still limping along with muscle pains and a knee that is healing rather nicely, albeit slowly.
What else?
I went snowboarding in Hiroshima/Shimane/Yamaguchi with a group of JETs for a weekend in early Feb. The snow was a lot like sugar at the base, but it was good practice. On that day I got clipped by a dude while I was sitting on the hill, talking to a friend. I didn't even see the dude coming- it could have been horrendous. No damage to me besides some frazzled nerves and a tiny chip in the tail of my board that won't affect performance. The next run down, I was getting my carve on and a dude on skate skis hit me from my blindside. Granted I was all over the hill, but my turns were precise and predictable. The dude couldn't have not seen me, and I obviously didn't see him. Only when he was about to hit me did I manage to catch him in my peripheral vision brace for an impact. He hit my board on the bottom side with the tips of his skis. That was an interesting situation. He hit my board directly where I had scratched it on some rocks two years earlier. This meant two things. Firstly, no damage to the board.
He apologized to me, but I didnt say anything as I checked my board and body for damage. We sat there for a minute in silence and I refused to say anything to him. He had the entire mountain to ski and chose a line but chose to hit me rather than move from it. I can't blame him, but I certainly didn't need to apologize to him for hitting me or excuse myself for being in his way. After the awkwardness, he went down a bit to meet a friend. Upon going down the mountain, I rode past them and then said sorry. I meant it in terms of "sorry that valued my board more than your health." Though it was hard to do, I did mean that apology.
Second important point here: My carving was so awesome (self-glorification) at that time, that the dude hit the bottom of my board. That means my board was totally on the edge and that I was completely in the right position in terms of body weight, balance and speed for the slope of the mountain at that place and and time. Though the collision was an abrupt stop to my flow, I managed to analyze my riding which was damn near perfect right then.
The following week, I went to Hokkaido by myself (again!) In one over-played and abused word by fake snowboarders who have no idea what it actually means or feels like, Hokkaido was "Epic." I arrived to Sapporo after work, checked into my hotel and made a B-lined for a local shop for authentic Sapporo Miso Ramen. It was amazing and warmed my core enough to head out into the minus six degree weather. Then I caught up with my Romanian friends who I had met on my first tour of Hokkaido. Their boy is growing up fast and they were still energetic and working hard. We toured the famous 雪祭り Yuki Matsuri (Snow Festival) and saw some huge works of art, all carved out of snow. Upon saying farewell to them, I strolled towards the red-light area to view the ice sculpture festival. I ran into a group of Fukuoka JETs and we toured the cool stuff there. They headed to karaoke and I went back to my hotel.
Woke up early to the snow coming down in the city. It didn't stop snowing for two days. After my minshuku (bed and breakfast) hosts picked me up (I love Ambitious Niseko!) I hit the slopes for the first of three days on the hill. It was incredible. Sooooo much snow. Lighter than Nagano, that's for sure. Just like I remembered it. I was toasted early because my legs were not ready for powder conditions. Onsen and delicious food before bed was awesome. The next day, it just dumped. It was absurd. I hiked a couple of backcountry gates- hit the back bowl and then I went off the top in the afternoon. Toasted again and as I waited for my ride, the sun came out and warmed the vibe and my chilled hands! Great day.
The last day started like any other- got up early, hit the slopes and rock and roll. But I decided to ride one run with a dude from my minshuku. We had fun and I was supposed to meet the JETs on the other side of the mountain. As the adage goes, "No friends on a powder day..." I had to postpone my meeting with them until lunch. I convinced him to come backcountry with me and we were about to gear up when another dude from the minshuku turned around and greted us. The three of us got across the bowl and then went down... it was a great run and we were three of the first people out there, so we had freshies nearly the entire way down.
But you have read this far and expect to hear something amazing, so I shall indeed share with you the reason that I earlier described this trip as Epic. The first dude wasn't keen on the backcountry, so he vied to ride on his own. The second dude and I decided to hit the peak because the sun was out for a bit. He wanted to show me something, he said. We took our time to hike the first peak and from there we had a view that I never saw on my first trip. We were on the top point of what used to be an active volcano. I could clearly distinguish the rim of the volcano and how it exploded, based on the steepness of various slopes. We pointed out dangerous places and the best lines to take. He pointed in the distance, but I wasn't sure what he was talking about. Nonetheless, I encouraged him to stop flirting with the snow bunnies that we met so we could go hit the powder. He obliged hesitantly.
We hiked to the next peak, where there were a ton of people coming up from another access gate. They all went back down the face, through powder of course, but back towards the resorts. My man pointed in the opposite direction... down the backside ridge and towards the main gully we had ridden earlier. I strapped on and followed him along a wavy snowblown ridge for about fifteen minutes. We descended pretty far as I watched some people dropping into the powder all around us. I was itchin to get in it, but he insisted that we follow the ridge more. Over huge drifts and jumping into powder, we eventually made it the bowl he had described. It was completely clean. Not a single track, not a soul around and a perfect blue sky under which to ride. He wanted to traverse the ridge around the other side, but I had already stopped in the powder and had no other way out. He let me go first.
I stood on the edge of a windblown cornice with about a ten foot drop. They were certain avalanche conditions and I had no avalanche gear on me. I hadn't had my heart racing that fast in a long time. I know the dangers of triggering one of those bad boys and realized that I probably should have had some gear. But this pitch wasn't too steep... and there was no other way out, so I had to go for it. I edged off and dropped a long second before falling into deep powder. No sooner had I landed than I realized I was floating. The world was flying by me, the trees below me were slowly beginning to get closer. I felt like I wasn't moving. I was in fact flying... on powder so fresh and new and clean that there was zero friction with my board. I turned a couple of times to ensure that, in fact, I was still in control... and then took about a minute of free fall in any direction I chose. Where I looked, I went. Those were impeccible moments of silence, bliss, pure, white. Winter. Wind on my face was the only indication that I was indeed moving and the stronger the wind, the faster I was going. I controlled my movements based on what the nerves on my upper cheeks (behind a thick beard) told me.
I waited for my friend as he took a clean line from the opposite side of that hidden bowl. Afterwards all I could do was smile. We found our way out of the secondary gully into which we had descended and back to the resort from whence we started. We wanted to run it back, but I insisted on meeting and inviting a friend who was on the other side. We spoke of a rendezvous on the top in the afternoon, but I got caught up with the friends and took some time to warm up... it was minus ten afterall! Later, he told me that when he went back that the vis was pretty low, but that where were only two tracks there! He also said that only people from Fukuoka know about it... so I agreed with his implication and am keeping that secret with me now!
In 28 years, that was one of the best moments on a board. Part of this experience is the atmosphere in which one rides... weather, company, equipment. But to feel the mountain. To understand how its slopes fall. To come to terms with how it was created out of powerful forces of plate movement, lava and energy. Those are undescribable feelings. The mountain doesn't speak, but we can understand it if we are in a place- physically, mentally, spiritually- to hear it. My trip to Hokkaido was Epic.
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