John Stupart.com

That has been the dominant theme of the week for me. It seems as I ask more and more things in my halting and stunted pidgin Japanese strangers become more and more curious. Being this close to Wakkanai and all, they’re firstly amazed that I’m not Russian, and then even more surprised when they find out I’m not American either. Of course, being a functional illiterate in Japanmeans I can’t really say much more about my South African-ness in the language, but that doesn’t seem to really matter much. They’re generally just amazed that someone from so very far away is here in the middle of nowhere, eating their ramen and swigging their sake, as it were.

Saturday saw myself and Heather trolling the mean streets of little Russia again, with me looking for a haircut. She knew a barber in town who could speak a bit of Engrish, which meant I might not wind up with a Mohawk (I didn’t.) Turns out, after trading information on my nationality, that my new favourite barber (the Palestinian in Melville can’t touch this guy!) knows quite a few high-ranking officers in the Japanese Navy. Me being the military-phile that I am meant that I now have his phone number and his mine in anticipation of the next battleship or destroyer that might come into port. It’s all about the networking ek se!

We also visited a large park/playground, where I was graced with my first ever sighting of a chipmunk. A real, live chipmunk… I was suitably impressed at this momentous mammal-related memory, and I’m sure my readers are too! A chipmunk people! Screw the big five, it’s a chipmunk! The park afforded some beautiful views of the neighbouring lake, as well as the local fauna. In winter there are a few slides and slopes and whatnot, which would probably make for some good sledding I’d imagine. Needless to say a winter visit is required to get the full park-like experience. 

The Wakkanai Park – and what you cannot do in it…

The Chipmunk! Doing its thing…

Mr Chipmunk Posing

Awesome Spider. Heather wouldn’t let me feed the smaller spider we found as an offering to his awesomness.

Sunday saw me playing this bastardized elephant-man version of golf native to Hokkaido. Called ‘Park Golf’, it’s an odd mixture of ‘Mashie’ 3 par holes, putt-putt and croquet. If one could imagine putt-putt with everything twice as big, that would be park golf in a nutshell. I played with the Hama-Tonbetsu high school ALT Chris (a towering American guy who can reduce small Japanese kids to tears with just his ear piercings) and his vice-principal. He was also quite interested in me being South African and all, and was quite pleased that there were so many (clearly superior?) Toyota’s, Mazda’s and Nissan-built cars in SA. Needless to say, trying to explain that this is largely due to American sanctions against us during apartheid was both impossible with my language inability, nor conducive to good internationalization! Park golf is a lazy two or three hours in the sun and pine forests of the countryside, and is quite easy to get the hang of. Definitely something to try at least once in your life just so you can say you have!

Monday saw my return to Wakkanai on a rather blustery, rainy day. The was definitely NOT calm and the sea gulls were struggling to simply stay in the air, let alone catch anything to eat. We wound up in what is probably the town’s only Udon shop for lunch, and it’s fast becoming one of my favourite eateries in Japan! Udon is basically a thick white wheat-based noodle served in a hot soup of your choice. Sprinkle some spicy flakes of unknown origin and it’s a great meal. The stuff isn’t very popular outside of southern Japan for some reason, but I think I love it more than Sushi these days. Regardless, once I leave Japan, I don’t think I’ll be able to look at seafood the same way ever again, much less spaghetti or any other Mimmo’s pasta!

In all a rather sedentary weekend, but an enjoyable one nonetheless. My new quest for the week is to book a room/booth at a local restaurant so I can watch SA thrash the Argies in the World Cup semi-finals. Here’s to hoping!

No matter where I go, I leave out this road. That’s Onishibetsu, my home-town for the year. I live about 100m behind that white tower building on the right.

It’s been a long interval since my last post, and that’s largely due to a potent combination of laziness and travel. For the past two weekends in a row I have been away from home and computer, rendering me unable to write anything halfway coherent and utterly exhausted upon return late on a Sunday night!

The previous weekend was spent in Sapporo, the largest city on this island, and was a great time in general. I cannot report overly much on the experience however, as most of the time was spent buying essential items unavailable in the countryside. Things like decent clothes, 30cm shoes and the like. What I can say of the trip, however, is that Sapporo is a horrible place to get lost in! The drive from the north took a surprisingly quick 5 hours by car, but we ended up hopeless driving around in circles for 3 hours in Sapporo, frantically calling Sarah for further directions as we encircled a widening area of the city.

The major problem, in my opinion (and I think Heather may well object), is the utter lack of distinguishing landmarks in the city. Likewise, the lack of road names or even regional markers all serve to frustrate the foreign driver. Given my traditionally hopeless navigational skills at the best of times, this all added onto the stack of challenges in finding our destination. A pain, to be sure, but one that I will be careful to avoid next time!

Sapporo aside, the weekend was spent in Wakkanai, the wonderful town of Russian occupation, and culminated in a rather pleasant evening! The day was spent over delicious sushi chatting with one of Heather’s coworkers about the merits of awesome university debating (ie my style) versus crappy Model UN “do your research on a country for 2 months!” styles, together with the normal internationalisation Japanese folks never seem to tire of. Add in a street pub crawl for the townsfolk, being mistaken yet again for Russians and gawking at the unnaturally cute waitress at a fancy Japanese restaurant, and the day could largely be considered normal by Gaijin standards!

Pub crawl near the Russian sector of Wakkanai. 90 minutes to drag yourself around the block and visit as many bars as possible. Sadly, driver that I was, we could not partake!

Curiously though, Heather had informed me that Wakkanai had a tiny blues club/lounge/loft that might be worth checking out, and check it out we did!  The fine establishment of ‘BB Kings’ (I think that was the name) was an extremely small 2nd floor lounge-bar festooned with native American trappings. Lord knows how or why they got there, but it was pretty enough. The barman I think was happiest of all to have two non-Russian foreigners frequenting his abode, but there was unfortunately no official lineup for the night. Undaunted, we hit the beer and Jack Daniels (because it’s everywhere!) and soon enough we were watching a 3-man traditional Japanese guitar group strumming away through several apparently-famous tunes (including the anthem of Fukuoka, I think.) Following this, Boss-san (our resident barman) plucked away with his own decidedly western guitar for our pleasure. Given the size of the establishment, we were effectively 50% of the place’s clientele, so it made for a rather unique and intimate musical experience, as opposed to the thronging sweaty masses I’m used to in South Africa. If only I’d remembered to bring my beret. Nonetheless, the oddity of a South African, American (from Tennessee) and Japanese woman drinking Jack Daniels in a Japanese Blues bar festooned with Native American decorations, whilst listening to a mixture of local and foreign music was not lost.

Much like eating a delicious curry made by Indians in Sapporo, it’s fast becoming apparent that there is no such thing as an area untouched by the western world. It’s by no means a bad thing, but it is noteworthy nonetheless.

Following that, Sunday was spent largely fighting off a creeping hangover with spicy and delicious udon noodles (thick white noodles in your choice of soup and meat/vegetables), avoiding deer on the drive home and basking in the warmth of my apartment’s gas heater!

This sign just about sums up the charm and the hilarity that is Wakkanai.

On a more mundane note, the weather here has fully turned into Autumn mode, with temperatures comparable to Johannesburg’s winter. The autumn colours are fully in gear to boot, with a lot of the browns and oranges one would expect. Nights dip tentatively below freezing and a return trip to Sapporo at the end of this month is looking to be a very good idea, as gloves, thermals, ski boots and assorted wintery things are still in dire need in the land of John!

So after a week of teaching ridiculously studious students in ‘Engrish’ and trying like hell to get them shouting “WHYYYYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?!” in order to get a sense of intonation, I was honestly looking forward to a nice long weekend of slowing things down and chilling out a bit. Instead of the vastly superior Eastern JET party occurring somewhere 8 hours’ drive away, I opted instead to sleep in, drive to Wakkanai and explore the surrounding countryside with Heather. While there weren’t nearly as many opportunities for typhoon-chasing camping, it was inspirational in a completely different sense.

Wakkanai from a big hill. Ferry boats leave several times a day for the local island and volcano.

 Perhaps a little background of northern Hokkaido’s most populous city. It’s essentially a large fishing town, 6 hour’s ferry ride from Russia. The result is an odd mix of depressingly compressed residential areas and a wonderfully fractious assortment of Japanese fisherman, bureaucrats and military personnel, Chinese factory workers and the Russian boat crews, in dock for the pre-Winter fishing season. Although the Japanese are largely far too polite to say it, they consider the Russians as generally no-good louts. In Sarufutsu I’m used to being treated as ‘different’, but in a good way. In Wakkanai, however, this is not usually a good thing, as being ‘different’ means being ‘Russian’ and thus guilty of petty theft, alcoholism and general undesirable behaviour.

 Case in point, upon meeting up with Heather at the local general store/mall (A monolithic mall called ‘Saijo’), we headed for the nearest food outlet like true westerners in search of breakfast that wasn’t fish, pork or a mixture thereof. After being handed a Russian menu and a generally perplexed response, the lady behind the counter was most surprised both that we weren’t dirty Bolsheviks and that we were able to say as much in Japanese. Funny in an isolated sense, but a little disturbing. I guess  a pale and blue-eyed John next to an equally Caucasian and green-eyed Heather didn’t help pass us off as visiting Lebanese tourists, or something…

 The Russians are conveniently contained in a small portion of Wakkanai unsurprisingly near the port. Within this section are a plethora of stores catering primarily to our soviet clientele. What’s notable, however, is how differently the shopkeepers treat you. Whereas in a normal Japanese shop of any sort and size one is greeted with a hello and acknowledgment in Japanese of your potential patronage, the Japs in the Russian sector closely shadow your movements to make sure you don’t steal anything, with nary an acknowledgement of your legitimate mercantilist aims. In South Africa this is normal, as often someone is indeed out to steal something, but in Japan it was tantamount to being doused with icy cold water.

 Wakkanai as a city is really quite fascinating, with an interesting mix of people, shops and sights. Anything from communications stations listening in on the Vladistovok Naval Base radio transmissions through to dirty Hokkaido bikers camping underneath the mammoth concrete break-wall. It’s an interesting mix. Of course it’s hardly a Newtown-esque bohemian melting pot of different colours, cultures and arts and crafts, but rather a fragmented, kaleidoscopic crushing of many demographics into one port-town. It ultimately lends itself to a terrific experience when driving safely by.

Shinto Shrine! One of many in the city. A plus was receiving a crash course in Buddhist and Shinto theology courtesy of Heather. Definitely a big eye-opener!

The surrounding countryside is much like the rest of Northern Hokkaido, with small country roads, giant power-generating windmills and miles and miles of lush green pasture-land, rivers and circling birds of prey. This is not limited to the outskirts of the city either, as even a short drive down some Wakkanai side roads revealed the curious mortal combat between fox and feline. Truly a sight only to be seen in Japan!

Wakkanai is always a pleasant drive to and from, so it was a genuine pleasure to just kick back and take a slow tour through the city and its surrounds. The rest of the weekend was completely relaxing, and for the first time since Tokyo I actually felt like my mind had caught up to the reality. It was great!

This little guy was rummaging in the backyard of a nearby house for some dinner. You can see the glinting eyes of the resident cat-guards on duty behind the tank.

Japanese Behemoth cat fights off the fox. The sound of fox vs cat combat was quite a shock!

Next weekend (another long one. God bless Japanese public holidays!) I’m headed to Sapporo for a much-needed winter-clothing expedition. Stay tuned!