Mt. Fuji - Part II - When Things Got "Real"

Okay, where did I leave off? Oh yeah! . . . slowly devoured by nightfall. :-)

So, I cannot describe the transition from day to night further than to say it was like God flicked off the light-switch. It went from dim to pitch black instantly. What little light you could make out was often blurred by the rain and midst. The wind blew constantly, tearing through my (cheap) plastic jacket and pants that I'd bought from the souvenir and supply shop at the base of the mountain.

With the wind kicking in, along with the wetness and cold . . . you can imagine how miserable things got. Every step became harder and harder. With the air being thin, we were out of breath all the time. If you were sitting down to rest, all it would take to get your heart beating like crazy would be to simply stand up. And this was only halfway through our journey. In other words, there was still another 8 hours to go.

My group continued to trudge along, plunging our sticks into the rocks and gravel. Stopping to take pictures was no longer a desirable option. At this point, we were just trying to keep moving. During this time, I started to fall behind a little. My group would call out to see if I was okay or try to get me to speed up. I hadn't experienced mountain sickness, but I knew that I couldn't possibly move any faster without some serious repercussions so I continued to shuffle along at my own pace.

Now allow me to reiterate that this was just the beginning of the struggle. (I really cannot emphasize that enough...and actually, one could argue that we hadn't even reached the "tough" part yet.) I remember that the mountain cabins were still popping up out of nowhere, so we were able to make a stop and get some coffee and even force down have another pb&j sandwich. It was at this particular stop that I remember getting my "Moses Stick" stamped with the emblem of a tiger. I looked at one of my friends and laughed out, "Uh oh, it's a tiger. I guess it's getting serious now." I had no idea how right I was.

After this stop, there was a whole lot of climbing. And I mean, CLIMBING. Like on your hands and knees, gripping onto cold, wet, rocks . . . in the dark. When we were upright, it was a serious uphill walk and I honestly don't know which one was worst. An icy chill was creeping into my bones and the wind whipped at my face along with rain and midst. Although it was night, the clouds were still very much present and they continued to "work their magic." It was at this very moment that almost every scripture in the bible that mentioned mountains came flooding to memory. Moses in the mountain. Jesus on a mountain. David hiding in the mountains. The Isrealites hiding in the mountains. God being compared to . . . what else . . . a mountain. It was like I suddenly realized what it all meant. These people weren't climbing hills. And there is absolutely nothing casual about a mountain . . . NOTHING. I can totally understand God being compared to a mountain. I thought about the women, children and animals that had to walk through the mountains back in biblical days. I thought about what kind of shoe wear they had. I wondered if those people had water-proof . . . well, water-proof anything. And I got a deeper understanding as to why everyone in the book of Exodus complained so much. (Sorry if I'm confusing any of my non-believers out there, but I'm sure most of you know that I'm a student of the bible.)

So yeah, a whole lot of introspection going on. Either way, it felt like forever until we reached the next cabin. Along the way, we collapsed onto rocks on the side of the path, resting and gasping for air. Mountain sickness had kicked in for some of the people in our group and there were groans of queasiness. And forget about pictures! It was life or death now. There was an unspoken consensus when we finally reached the next stop, that we would attempt to get some rest in one of the hotels.

Now the funny thing about getting to each stop was that you always, ALWAYS felt like giving up right before you reached it. Someone would say, "the stop's ahead" and your body seemed to respond with, "I quit!" Personally, I would crawl to the first landing and literally hoist/roll my body over to the side to make room for anyone behind me. Then I sat there until my heart stopped pounding through my chest.

When we reached the landing, we saw a bunch of people standing inside of a large cabin that seemed to give off a golden glow from the inside. There was heat radiating from the building and the people inside were eating hot noodles and walking around in sweaters and tights. The thing that really stood out to my group was the piles and piles of blankets and comforters next to some of the people gathered around a huge heater. Everyone looked so happy . . . and dry.

"Reservation only!" the guy shouted when someone from our group asked about renting some beds. Everyone looked around with confusion and sadness. "Reservation only!" he repeated, and shut the door in our faces, in order to drive home the point that he hated us and wanted us to die on the top of Mt. Fuji.

Despite the fact that we couldn't actually go into this resting facility, our group had hit a wall. We weren't moving. So we just stood there for a while. At one point, we attempted to sit at the entrance to the cabin and get some indirect heat from the lights that glowed from within (I'm getting sad just typing this), but unfortunately, we were kicked out by the "Reservations Only Guy" and had to join the other "Fuji-homeless" along the side of the building.

So I turned to see the above picture. My friend (who'd gotten sick) was sleeping on a wet bench out in the rain and freezing cold. It was then that I turned to the one guy in our group and said, "Things just got real, huh?" And as funny as that might sound, reading it off of a blog . . . it wasn't funny at all. He looked at me, with the most somber face imaginable and said, "Yeah, it sure did."

We waddled along to the side of the adjacent building (which was the bathroom facility), spread out our torn up plastic jackets and planted ourselves on the ground. The smell emanating from the wall was terrible, but being next to a building was a little warmer than just sitting out in the open air. It was at this moment, that one of my friends became anointed with insanity. She literally began running around and entertaining us. She made us laugh so hard that I truly believe it gave us the strength to go on (and I mean that). I could never imagine that I would have been laughing while sitting on the ground, against an outhouse in the pouring rain . . . but it was possible.

So after a while, we stood up and started out again, aching joints and all. I can't really say we were refreshed, but we were moving again so that was progress, I guess. It was a couple of hours until we reached another landing. And trust me, we felt every second of it. Each step felt impossible. When we finally reached the next landing, the "littlest" member of our group negotiated a way for us to get inside one of the reservation only "restaurant" cabins and actually get some warmth. We sat inside eating udon noodles and drinking coffee for fifteen minutes. Despite the strenuous physical activity, I wasn't hungry but in order to be allowed inside the cabin we had to order (and actually be eating) food. So after our 15 minutes was up, we got kicked out and stood outside of the building trying to figure out what to do next. The guys from the small "restaurant" cabin allowed us to sit on some benches in front of their facility. They stood outside, smoking cigarettes and laughing at us as we huddled together to keep warm.

After laughing and pointing for a good twenty minutes, one of the guys came over and gave us a package that contained a foil blanket. At this moment, me and another girl got a little . . . well, we cried. It was the mixture of that kind act and my friend's sudden remembrance of a story about some people who starved to death in Nazi Germany 70 years ago (don't ask - odd things come to mind when you are in extreme conditions.)

After being at this stop for maybe 2 hours, we finally got up and started out again.

Okay, this post is getting way too long and I need to go to bed. I guess I'm going to have to actually do a Part III.

Mt. Fuji - I barely knew thee

Mountains inspire awe in any human person who has a soul. They remind us of our frailty, our unimportance, of the briefness of our span upon this earth. They touch the heavens, and sail serenely at an altitude beyond even the imaginings of a mere mortal.

Elizabeth Aston, The Exploits & Adventures of Miss Alethea Darcy, 2005

This post is not even going to come close to giving you my full adventure of climbing a mountain. To be honest - there's no possible way to re-create that experience and I'm not even going to try. In a sense (and I apologize if I'm getting too deep here) I feel like there is a part of me that will always be on that mountain . . . forever climbing. Okay, let me get to the point.

On Friday, August 13th (yes, Friday the 13th) I climbed Mount Fuji. It was one of the most beautiful, courageous, overly ambitious, awe-inspiring, tragic, breath taking, life changing events that I have ever experienced in my whole entire life.

In hindsight I honestly don't know what it was that made me believe that I could easily just conquer a mountain but I began this epic journey with the same level of arrogance that Captain Smith had before he hit that ice-burg and sunk the Titanic.

It was 12:45 pm. Myself and 5 people started out on what looked like a long, spacious road that gently sloped upward. There were 4 girls and one guy in our little team.

The consensus was that we'd climb to the top of Mt. Fuji and then climb back down. No sleep or rest. Simple as that!

We were a lively group making jokes and singing (mainly "Baby Come Back" by Hall n Oates - a running joke that would be the theme of our whole mountain climbing trip along with . . . "the last one down's a rotten egg!") and taking pictures of the beautiful scenery. The perfectly sunny weather and crowds of people only worked to increase our optimism and enthusiasm. One girl from our group had only brought a quarter of a bottle of water and a bag of trash with her.

In other words . . . we. were. doomed! Either way, the beauty of nature was around us, and boy were we breathing it in.

Our walking sticks jingled with ribbons and little bells that were attached to the tips and at each stopping point, we got them stamped. Now let me backtrack a little and tell you about our walking sticks and the different "stops" on the mountain.

Before setting out on the mountain, I decided to buy what I'd like to refer to as a "Moses Stick." Along with the intended "mountain guru" effect it gave off, this stick was a real life saver when I needed something to grip onto for balance and support.

Also, there were many different cabins. They served as checkpoints where you could get your "Moses Stick" stamped but more importantly, they sold snacks and beverages. Some of them even allowed you to stay overnight and rest up a little before hitting the trail again. (You needed reservations for that luxury, howevver, which sadly we would find out later.)

The beginning of our journey was pretty easy and the vendor huts seemed to be one right after the other. I decided to skip the stick stamping ritual at one point because I remember being annoyed at the obvious nickel and diming that was taking place. (It cost about 2 bucks for each stamp.) At the third checkpoint, however, I regretted this decision and decided that I wanted every last stamp that I could get on this epic journey. (And I'm glad I did.)

The scenery was absolutely beautiful and we watched clouds roll up the mountain like steam from a train.

At times the large crowd of people that we followed behind would stop and start which gave us moments of rest. During that time, we took pictures and enjoyed the view.

The climb became strenuous almost immediately and combined with the heat, we decided to shed the layers that we'd prematurely put on.

These rocks were no joke. Imagine doing about 6 hours on the stair climber machine at the gym.

Maybe around 5pm at yet another checkpoint, our group began to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Japanese passersby laughed and yelled out "Dericious!" Those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were indeed "dericious" and I can't think of another moment during our journey when the morale was higher.

It was also at this moment that I remember the wind picking up. In a futile attempt to beat the darkness, we started out again with the wind pushing against our backs. The clouds began moving at a quicker pace by this time and gradually our group became quieter as we climbed along the path. The only thing you could hear was the wind whistling and the crunching of rocks and gravel.

It was then that my positive opinion about clouds began changing. When it was sunny and warm, I remember looking up the mountain and seeing these large, white fluffy figures and admiring their beauty. "They look like big -insert cute, fluffy, white unassuming object here-. Now that we were actually walking through the "big, beautiful marshmallows/snow clumps/pillows/etc." in the sky, they looked as menacing as the "Stay Puffed Man" on Ghostbusters. They were cold, super-windy and wet. Whenever you saw a cloud approaching (and trust me, they were visible up close) you cringed and took a deep breath to prepare to be roughed up by mother nature. Remember, these are the things that cause airplanes to tremble. I will never EVER look at clouds the same. So we're battling gravity, we're battling rocks, we're battling clouds and this is all before the darkness set in.

At around 7pm, we stopped at a checkpoint and grabbed a cup of coffee. By this time it was really cold and windy. The cost of coffee went up by about 2 bucks. We sat and listened as a friend from another group played his "mountain flute" for the nearby crowd. Everyone clapped and laughed and it was all very funny and surreal. We took a bunch of pictures and I remember getting my "Moses Stick" stamped with the emblem of a mountain. At some point someone mentioned the impending darkness and the next thing I know, we were trudging into an abyss of dimness, being slowly devoured by nightfall.

. . . Part II to come!

"Kaminoke" Talk

One thing that I remember asking one of the ladies during the final stages of the interview process for my current job was, "Are Japanese people used to seeing . . . uh, I mean . . . how do they feel about . . . umm . . . foreigners, specifically . . . (whispers) Black folk?" The lady seemed horrified that I would ask such an ignorant question and I was pretty sure that from that point on I'd just ruined my chances of getting a job.

"Look, I don't know what you think it's like in Japan, but it'sreally a modern country. Japanese people are used to seeing all types. And yes . . . they will stare, but that's because they stare at everyone who doesn't look like them." She went on to explain that she's Japanese, but gets stared at whenever she's in Japan because she doesn't look Japanese.

To say this lady was right would be an understatement - though I think her indignation at the question was a bit exaggerated. I get stared at ALL THE TIME but it's a little different with me. If I could go back in time, walk into my own interview and answer my own question in more detail . . . I think I would probably tell myself, "These people will be very kind to you, but you will always be stared at as if you were a freak of nature. It will be different for you, however, because people will recognize that you are a foreigner way quicker than they will recognize your White/Hispanic/Asian American counterparts. They will ask you what part of Africa you are from and last but certainly not least they will touch your hair as if you were a llama at a petting zoo." These are the things that the lady failed to tell me.

Now I don't want to come off as angry or - I don't know - bitter. If anything, I find it amusing that I can grab the attention of everyone in a room by just being "boring ole me." I sit quietly in a corner, reading something off of my iPad, eating some noodles, and (out of habit) twisting my locks around in my fingers and when I look up, I swear the whole room is dead silent and all eyes are on me. Sometimes I run through little scenarios in my head. Like what would be the repercussions of me getting up and screaming, "Boogity-Boogity-Boo!" while shaking my head and sticking out my tongue. Then I have a little chuckle and get back to reading. Either way, sometimes I find it funny and sometimes . . . let's just say, I don't. Either way, I can't wait for my whole family to come visit me. It's going to be HILARIOUS!

(me . . . on a typical day)

One thing that has really stood out about my experiences out here has been the "hair" talk. I go through the "hair" conversation so much that the person I'm speaking with doesn't even need to know English for me to understand how to respond.

It's like a dance, and it always starts like this . . . First, the person stares at me - which is pretty normal. They smile and nod when they notice that I am staring back. Next their eyes deliberately shift to my hair. They tilt their head a little and give a confused look. Next they say something to themselves - or a friend - in Japanese (probably, "what's up with her hair" or something like that, I don't know). Sooner or later they make a gesture toward my hair and say something. I tell them, "They're called locks."

"Lockus?"

"Yes, locks."

"Oooh. Hmm." They say. More smiles and staring. Then they say something in Japanese.

"Yes, you can touch it," I respond. This almost ALWAYS seems to be the answer they were looking for, because at that moment they reach out and touch my hair.

"Wow!" they exclaim, while bulging their eyes and laughing. Now of course, so as not to be rude, they tell me that it's beautiful and they wish that they could do that to their hair too. This is usually done by smiling and saying "kirei" as well as pointing to their own hair with the question mark face. This also serves as my cue to tell them how I got my hair this way. At this point, I pick a random lock from my head and roll it between the palms of my hand tightening it until it stays in place. This is the part where everyone gasps. The last question is always, "Well, how do you wash it?"

I could easily take this the wrong way, but I'm pretty sure they're wondering whether I have to take my hair out of the locks in order to wash it because they always make a gesture that looks like pulling one's hair apart. I tell them that I wash my hair the same way that they do and I give the gesture for washing one's hair. "Ooh!" They say. Then, "Hmm." Next, they get one last "hair touch" in and the dance is officially complete.

Now, some people don't like letting others touch their hair but personally it doesn't bother me too much (because I wash my hair quite a bit) and also, I'd like to think that I'm showing these folks something they've never seen before. I think it's cool that they are bold enough to ask about something they don't know and if anything, it inspires me to do the same.