Animal Crossing

If ever there was a summer to stay in Mongolia, this would be it.  It was mild even by our standards, with lots of cloudy, breezy days hit with heavy showers right around 1 in the afternoon.  The national Naadam was held outside of the city, so locals were pretty scarce, making traffic a dream.  And without foreigners visiting, there also weren't any tourists.

That was great as far as Ulaanbaatar city life, but I felt sorry for the people who depend on the tourism industry for their living.  Souvenir shops, ger camps, tour guides and drivers are all having a lean year.  Fortunately, there was one place I never did check off my Mongolian bucket list in my previous life - Omnogov - so once I finished my latest course I decided to do my part for the economy and went on an adventure.

The Jojo and Enkhaa Express have been taking tours to the South Gobi the last few years, so they were my first choice for tour companies.  They very fortuitously had just returned from a nine-day bike trek around Arkhangai a few days before I was hoping to go.  Believe it or not, this was my first trip into the countryside since coming back a year ago.  Thanks to the mining industry the roads were pretty great all the way to Dalanzadgad, and it was relaxing watching the landscape subtly shift as the kilometers ticked by.

Back to the lack of tourists - although it made life hard for the economy, those of us who did go traveling this summer got a bonus out of the deal.  See, while the places we went in South Gobi aren't exactly close to civilization, they ARE on the well-beaten tourist trail (read: you'll spend a lot of time on washboard roads).  This means that while they should be remote enough to see some interesting wildlife, the parade of Russian vans has a tendency to scare off the animals.

Somebody forgot her good lens....apologies.  Look closely, I promise you'll see the gazelle.

Not so this year!  As we rumbled our way to the big dunes at Khongoryn Els we spotted three black-tailed gazelle - a mother and twin fawns.  Enkhaa stopped for me to shoot them - WITH MY CAMERA, GEESH, what exactly do you think my last name is??? - telling us how luck we were to see twins.  Even before we could pick up speed we saw a few more making their way through the grass.

The landscape constantly changed that day - we went fairly quickly from the dunes to grasslands, where we were greeted by white-tailed gazelle.  They got a little ways from us and then decided they weren't scared of no tourists, standing there flipping their tails at us.  Grasslands changed to hills striped with outcroppings of rocks, which from there built into craggy cliffs.  As the road wound through them, Engrish spotted an ibex at the top of one of the formations, which Enkhaa and I just barely glimpsed before it scampered away.

The khulan are the ones in the front, not to be mistaken for horses.

It was about that time when Engrish asked Enkhaa if he thought we'd see any khulan, a Mongolian species of wild ass (and yes, I had to say "ass" there.  It's never "donkey" in this context.  If you knew my friend named Khulan you'd also want to associate the word with what it means at every possible opportunity).  He told her we wouldn't, that they live in more remote areas.  But almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth we turned a corner and startled three of them into a gallop.

My favorite animals, though, are not really rare here - last year I even saw one on the sidewalk outside our elementary school, although they are an endangered species.  Yolyn Am was our stopping point on the first day, and it is the world's center of cuteness.  This time the first squee was mine, but it zipped into a burrow before Engrish could confirm its existence.  As we continued to hike down the gorge there were little medium-pitched squeaks, and although we hadn't spotted another yet, I deduced they were chattering as they observed us to judge if we were friendlies.  Finally, the pikas revealed themselves and we were swarmed with cuteness.

Pika are small rodents most closely related to rabbits, although I'll forgive you if you think mice are nearer cousins, since the first time I saw one that was precisely my thought.  They don't have tails and they're much bigger than mice, though, and once you see their little noses twitch, or watch them nibble on the foliage the family resemblance is clear.  They even dash more like a rabbit.  And if you were wondering, yes, they are, in fact, the inspiration for Pikachu.  

I Squid You Not

So.  I had a dream.  I dreamt that I would spend every night on the shores of Toyama Bay until I saw the hotaruika no mirage - the firefly squid on the beach.  I booked a room at the Sky Hotel Namerikawa back in October or November to be sure that I was close enough to walk to the beach every night.  I was sure it was going to happen, because the new moon was on the first day of vacation, May 4, but I made plans to stay for several days, just in case.

Beautiful Toyama, on a not-too-beautiful day.

And if you’re paying attention, you may be noticing right now that I’ve been on vacation for several days already, and yet May 4 was not one of those days.  And if you have deduced from that fact that I fucked up and booked the wrong dates, you are correct.  What you may not have realized is that I didn’t figure this out until the Monday before the holiday.  And the holiday was an unprecedented 10 day vacation in Japan, thanks to the ascension of the new emperor.  Which meant that, basically, I was screwed.  I found two options that weren’t fully booked - one in Uozu, close to the shore, but looking sketchy as hell.  The other was by Toyama station (ie, inland), and was going to set me back $500.  Have I complained to you about my salary?  So, yes, things were looking quite bleak for me.  And then I wondered what my options would be if I tried Couchsurfing.

Now, for those of you who aren’t savvy, Couchsurfing is the predecessor of AirBnB.  The idea is that travelers host one another freely, paying it forward to the next couchsurfer who comes to their town.  It’s a good model if you like people and adventures.  Since I only like one of those things, I’d never tried it, but desperate times called for desperate measures.  And that is how I came to be staying with a young college student and her family here in Toyama.

Back to the squid: so my idea was that I was going to go out all night watching for them.  That was my plan until I got to my hostess with the mostest’s home Saturday night.  After a full day of wandering Kanazawa, following an overnight bus from Shinjuku, following a day of teaching, and THAT following two nights short on sleep.  Basically I decided I couldn’t do it.  Not that night.  But even the next day was cold.  Also, I’m not staying anywhere close to the shore.  Google maps estimates that it’d take me an hour to walk there, and Google seems to think I’m a faster walker than I am.

Well, I decided I could find a solution for that.  If I had a bike, it would be manageable.  I found out that Toyama has a bike sharing system, CycloCity.  I signed up for a weeklong account, and went to the station to get started.  It was super easy.  Problem solved!  Or so I thought.  Turns out that the system works only if the bikes keep circulating.  In order to avoid tourists who use the same bike for hours at a time, potentially leaving it unattended to get stolen, the first half-hour is free, the next half-hour is 100 yen, and each hour after that is 500 yen.  So riding around all night wasn’t going to work, either, as there were no bike racks near the beach.

It worked okay for getting me to the Inari shrine I needed to finish my photography project, at least.  Although even that I didn’t accomplish in the free half hour.  I mean, it takes time for the photos I was shooting.

I’ve been trying to convince myself since then, convince myself that it’ll be worth it to spend at least two hours on my feet, but honestly there’s no guarantee that even if I do that the damn things will make their appearance.  If it was as easy as “go to the beach, see squid,” I think I could muster up the enthusiasm.  I think if I had a travel buddy with me to keep me going (or that I’d at least be too ashamed to wuss out on), I’d be able to suck it up.  But.  Well.  That is not the case.  So I haven’t gone to shore.  I haven’t seen the firefly squid.

Instead, I’ve seen Avengers: Endgame.  It was awesome.  It didn’t involve me standing on my feet for several hours (although I was holding my pee for at least one).  Afterwards I got a nice wagyu burger from Shogun Burger.  See, maybe I don’t get to see the squid this year, but that’s okay because I really do like Toyama.  It’s a nice chill town with good food and places nearby to explore.  And I’m going to go explore some of them now.  So I’ll catch you on the flip side.

Crazy Like A Fox

Setting a time limit makes everything seem urgent.  My current life timer is counting down til the end of June/beginning of July, when I'll leave Japan for at least a good long while.  Not only am I sure I'll be back, I'm already kind of planning on when: August 2020.  (That will give me a year to save up money so I can go to Drum Tao's taiko extravaganza that they hold on Kyushu every summer.)  In the meantime, there are things I've got to do before I leave, just in case the great catfish finally sinks the country before I get back.  That's why as soon as our bloody open house was over on Saturday*, I walked over to Yokohama Station and hopped the train up to Tokyo Station, where I caught a shinkansen for the second time in a month, this time heading to Shiroishi.  The next thing I needed to check off my Japan bucket list was the Miyagi Zao Fox Village.

This was a thing Sensei had never heard of before, but Baby Chicken Wing had - she actually asked me before I moved here if I was going to go.  "Hell yes," was the answer, although I never quite figured out when I was going to go.  Thanks to my new shinkansen addiction and what was left of my three-day weekend when the school was done with me, I decided the time was ripe.  The night before I'd finally sat down to find a hotel for the night.  Booking.com set me up with a hotel next to the station for about $80, and if it didn't have a hot spring, it DID have electric air conditioners, unlike the ryokan I stayed at in Jigokudani.  The hotel restaurant, with its all-you-can-eat shabu shabu was just a bonus.  I didn't even care to go out and have a look around that night - just read and relaxed.

The next morning, though, I was out by eight on a mission.  That night I'd run up against a snag - apparently the bus that goes up to the fox village only goes on Tuesdays and Fridays.  This is honestly the stupidest foxing thing I've ever heard: that the main tourist attraction of a very small town only has a bus service on weekdays.  According to the hotel desk, there was no other bus.  I suspected shenanigans, so I asked Sensei to look in Japanese while I wrestled the interwebs in English.  There seemed to be another bus at some point in the past, so I went out looking for it Sunday morning, but had no luck.  Which was too bad, but I stumbled across an interesting shrine and had a closer look at Shiroishi Castle while I was at it.

See, if you can't take a bus to the Fox Village, you're stuck taking a taxi, which costs 4,000 yen each way.  Now when I was a rich art teacher in from Mongolia I wouldn't have given two fox about paying up, but on my current salary with my current expenses, 80 bucks roundtrip is more than I can pay (hell, that's pretty much what my hotel cost).  So when I got back to the station I followed Sensei's suggestion** and held up a drawing of a fox in my sketchbook with the word ikitai in hopes I'd make new friends.  I didn't.  But when I finally decided to suck it up and just go pay for the cab, there were two Taiwanese guys waiting for the cab they'd called, and they asked if I wanted to share.

So finally I was on my way.  It took about a half hour on snowy, winding roads to get there, but finally we pulled up to the main gate.  I carried some trepidations with me.  On the ride up I read some of their recent Tripadvisor reviews and they were pretty bad, complaining about the smell, rude staff, and animal cruelty.  I was at least a little worried it was going to turn out to be a huge waste of money, but I wasn't willing to write it off for a loss.  So I paid my 1,000 yen and followed the sound of yips inside.

Your first glance of the foxes is through cages.  This seemed a little cruel at first, but later I figured out that these were the ones that they use for the optional fox petting experience.  Presumably they have to raise them to be tame enough to be handled by tourists...or else drugged.  In either case, I'm guessing that keeping them with the free-range foxes probably isn't a great idea.

I moved pretty quickly into that enclosure, since that is really what the trek out there is all about.  I was barely through the door when I found two foxes right in front of me, so I grabbed my camera, only to have the gatekeeper tell me not to take pictures.  This was something that was mentioned in one of the Tripadvisor reviews, and for a second I was worried I wouldn't be able to indulge my shutterbug tendencies.  But as I looked around I realized plenty of people were taking photos - just not by the entrance.  So I moved away and started shooting.  On my way out I saw a sign that said the foxes often attack by the entrance - apparently that's why they forbid photography in that area.

I moved on.  There were foxes everywhere, mostly red foxes but there were other breeds and colors, too.  Some of them nipped and postured at each other.  Others were sleeping.  At least one vixen was in heat, because she had several suitors fighting over whose turn it was to "do it like they do on the Discovery channel."

There was definitely a smell, but that goes with the territory.  Animals have smells.  In this case, it was the smell of musk, not urine or poop.  Don't get me wrong - it wasn't really a pleasing aroma, and I still had the ghost of it lingering in my nose til I was halfway back to Tokyo.  But the enclosure didn't seem to be dirty - I didn't find myself trying not to step in shit the way I remember doing as a child when I visited a certain family member with two big Rottweilers and a very small yard.

They had treats that you could buy to feed the foxes.  I didn't get any.  In order to feed them, you go onto a raised platform...kind of like a detached porch?...and toss them to the foxes waiting below.  Not the touching nature experience that you hope for when you hear "feed the animals."  I'm not complaining, really - there was ample evidence that these animals were not pets, not to mention the fact that the staff let you know what not to do and that they weren't responsible if you got your dumb ass bitten.  I crossed that experience off my bucket list as a child that time my Dad let me feed the ostrich through the window at the nature safari around Springfield, and I'm not really in any hurry to repeat it.  But I also didn't feel like spending any more money that day.

There was a...well-worn...Inari shrine in the park as well.  Of all the things to complain about, I think this is the one that actually bothers me.  It's not that I give zero fox about animal rights.  I do, I promise - I just don't think these foxes are particularly mistreated.  The "shrine," on the other hand, seemed like a particularly half-assed attempt to lend an air of legitimacy to the fox village.  We're in Japan, bitches.  This is a country that has been known to build train stations around sacred trees, rather than cutting them down.  The torii were pretty beaten up, and the shrine itself looked more like a chicken coop than housing for the gods.  That didn't stop me from trying to get a good picture; it just made me a little less disappointed when it didn't really happen.

So those are my thoughts on the fox village.  Not the worst way to spend a weekend, although it would have been nice if I could have managed to go to the nearby Kokeshi village (this is the second doll museum with a painting experience I've passed up on these trips, which makes me think I'm going to have to do a grand tour of Japanese dolls on a future trip back to Japan) - as it was I didn't want to pay for another taxi.   For now, I'm grounding myself from road trips until May (aka, firefly squid, take 2)...at least, unless I can figure out how to afford a trip on the Royal Express.  I hear Shizuoka's beautiful this time of year...


*How much do I look forward to not having to work one Saturday a month as of August???  SO much!
**Actually her suggestion was hitchhiking.  And it probably would have been perfectly safe to do so here in Japan, but I wasn't in the mood to stand out in the cold.  Also, I had the small sketchbook, so I wasn't sure if anyone would get the message as they zipped past.

Monkey Business

Just before the holidays I got my contract for next year.  It included a significant pay raise and inclusion of airfare, but I realized that just wasn't enough.  Officially, I'm paying for my master's out of pocket, and here I just can't do that AND afford my rock and roll lifestyle.  Unofficially, I'm just not happy at my school.  Teaching anklebiters is tough enough; teaching ones that backtalk and take FOREVER to instruct because they. Will.  Not.  Be quiet! is - turns out - impossible.  And that's just the tip of the iceberg, but that's a discussion for a more appropriate forum.

This got me thinking about what I want to do before I leave Japan.  Hopefully I'll be back, but who knows what the future holds, so I decided to carpe the fuck out of of the diems I have left, which is how I ended up deciding to go to Jigokudani this weekend.  We had a three-day weekend (an actual one, as opposed to one where the school makes us work on the Saturday), so I booked a room at a ryokan and off I went.

One thing I'm really going to miss when I leave Japan is my pocket wifi.  Most of the fact-finding I did about getting to the monkey park I did on the Shinkansen Saturday morning.  When I got off the train I went straight down to the Nagaden train station to get the Monkey Pass, a 3-day pass that gets you into the park free and allows you to ride any of the trains and buses as much as you want.  At the bottom of the stairs I was met by a signboard that said they were being sold at the bus stop.  On the other side of the station.  I fought my way through crowds of gaijin with skis and snowboards (whom I prayed weren't going my way...some were, but I didn't end up throwing any of them off the mountain) and eventually paid my 3,500 yen and went to get snacks before getting on the 1:15 express bus, which takes you nearly all the way to the park. 

It's fortunate that I've been missing Mongolia lately.  If not, I might have been a little resentful of all the snow.  I saw snow for the first time in Tokyo that morning, and it lasted all of 10 minutes.  In the mountains the trees were weighed down with the stuff.  Blondie had warned me to wear good hiking boots, and between my Skechers and my penguin walk, I didn't fall down off of the mountain.  I probably should have rented the crampons - my legs and hips were aching from my unaccustomed gait.  The signage as you go through the onsen town says the park is 1.6 kilometers away...but that really means once you hit the trail. 

Finally I got to the entrance to the monkey park, the end of the 1.6k...which was followed by a steep climb up stairs and along a little more trail.  Before long I hit the cabin - a kind of museum/gift shop/toilet/lockers facility where they stamp your monkey pass, since it's only good for one visit.  This is also the only place you can eat snacks in the park - if the monkeys see or hear plastic, apparently they mob you.  I left my backpack in a locker and went down toward the stream and bathing pools, where the monkeys were doing monkey things.

And luckily, one of them wasn't shy about getting in the water.  It's hard to predict animal behavior, and I probably would have felt a little cheated if none of the monkeys were actually IN the water.  Maybe I should have gotten there earlier, but I got the shots I came for, so I left happy.

And I am happy to report that none of them jumped on my head.  Monkeys always make me a little nervous, and you'd be justified in asking why I keep going to see them.  In this case, I have to say it was the draw of that - as Blondie put it - perfect NatGeo photo.  For an hour or so, I got to pretend I was out on assignment, taking shots of these majestic wild beasts.  All of which is, of course, a fiction - they're not that wild and I'm definitely not a pro-photographer.  However, this term's course for my master's is in photography, so hopefully by summer I'll be a little bit more of one.

Rabbit Run

I've survived three weeks of a new school year, and five weeks in my new life in Japan.  I'm finally starting to feel like I'm making progress, but I'm still looking forward to our three-day weekend commencing on Saturday.  The hardest part of work has been teaching anklebiters again.  Verily, it sucketh.  I mean, kids love me, but I'm out of practice when it comes to cat herding, so it's possible that I've been feeling a bit of that old Sunday night panic I haven't experienced since early in my Korea days.

Hint: You'll see ads like this there.

Perhaps that's why in spite of my "live for the weekend" philosophy I decided to take it easy last Saturday with a museum visit and a little light shopping.  Unfortunately, between my museum pace and all the walking I did in between, my feet didn't find it very relaxing.  To add insult to injury, I couldn't weave it into a blog post.  Well, I could have, but I value all six of my faithful readers, and if they're going to spend their time reading garbage that relies way too heavily on profanity and inappropriate jokes, the least I can do is ensure that it's well-curated garbage.

Yesterday I put together one such itinerary.  I browsed the weekend events, and was halfway tempted to go to a festival, but it was two hours away and I thought it might get old, writing about shrines and festivals all the time.  I haven't experienced temple-itis in Japan, ever, but I don't really want to start now.

Instead, I came across a listing for a "Usagi Symbol Exhibition" at a gallery in Tokyo, and since I've been a little homesick this week, I thought I'd go so Babysis could experience the fluffy cuteness vicariously.  She loves bunnies...but only the cute ones.  She and her husband have been talking about coming to visit - if this blog doesn't seal the deal, I may have to up the ante with Okunoshima, the rabbit island.  When I went to Kyoto for the very first time, I was impressed on her behalf with how many rabbit stickers and things there were, and I thought an exhibit about rabbit symbols would be interesting.

So I paid my 500 yen after waiting on the stairs outside the gallery, and was utterly disappointed to discover that the exhibit had pretty much nothing to do with rabbit symbols, but instead featured photos - admittedly, of rabbits - by a bunch of Instagrammers.  Which is not to say that they weren't completely adorable...they were.  But it wasn't what I was expecting and I'm not sure I should have spent that much money to stroke amateurs' egos (seriously - I only paid 620 yen to get into the Tokyo National Museum last week).

Once again proving that there is a manga for everyone...

I decided to follow the show up with a visit to a bunny cafe.  I don't know how much you know about animal cafes in Japan...I'm pretty sure it all started with cats.  Lots of apartments won't allow you to have pets, and someone had the brilliant idea of creating a business where people could go to get their snuggles without the responsibility of owning a pet themselves.  When I was in Tokyo in 2014 I visited one of these cat cafes, but came to the conclusion that cats just don't have the personality for that kind of work.  They're spoiled.

When I got to the bunny cafe it had been open for about 15 minutes but it already had all the customers it could handle - I was asked if I would mind waiting.  I sat down, mentally comparing it to the cat cafe.  There were a list of rules that I had to sign off on, including the fact that although I'd be wearing an apron, if the rabbits peed on me the establishment was not responsible for damages.  This place was much smaller than the cat cafe I visited before, and they had several enclosures with different rabbits you could visit in turn.

Like the cat cafe, they had profiles of their different bunnies, explaining that one was fickle (she won't care about you once the food is gone), another's charm point was his long fur.  Finally, one of the attendants came over to get me, asking if I wanted my drink now or after.  Admission includes a drink, but you can't drink it while you're with the bunnies, so I decided to wait til the end.  Sadly I missed the part where she said last call was 10 minutes before my time was up, so I didn't get my coke in the end, but life goes on.

Admission also included a small container of bunny treats.  This meant that unlike the cat cafe, the rabbits were actually interested in you.  They weren't at all shy about jumping up next to you and snuffling until they got what they wanted.  There were a few rabbits that were still in their cages - I thought maybe they had the day off, but one of the attendants showed me how to open the cage so I could pet this one.  She proceeded to lick my fingers until I took my hand back to take a photo.  I thought maybe it smelled the bunny treats on me, but when I offered her one she ignored it and started licking me again.

In case you're wondering, being licked by a rabbit is not as unnerving as you would expect.  It's pretty much as adorable and soft as the rest of the bunny.

To be honest, most of my adult experiences with rabbits involve being scared for my feet on Azhaar's toilet (when it doubled as Doog's hutch) or being scared I would be fluffocated in my sleep when sleeping on her floor.  She always claimed Doog was just a big fluffy bunny...which technically was correct, but on the other hand, I've seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail.  I know what rabbits are capable of.  But these guys were playful and just ridiculously cute, so it sort of made up for the stupid "art show."

Now, if I named an art show Usagi Symbol Exhibition, this is the sort of thing I would put in it.  I'm not sure what it says about Japan that they have construction barriers shaped like rabbits, but they do.  These are around the corner from my apartment, but I ran into the same kind on my way home near Kanda Station yesterday afternoon, so apparently they aren't an isolated thing.  Since I wasn't in charge of their exhibit, I'll keep it for myself here.  Leaving the rabbit cafe, I had an impulse to go looking for rabbit ears - I was in Akiba at that point and there are tons of cosplay shops, so chances are I could have rounded out my blog with that.  Another option would have been to see if any of the maid cafes were having bunny day, but I'd already decided that I would save Akiba for a time when I could do it justice.

Besides which, the last time I went into any of the shops there, I spent more money than I should have, even if it was less than I could have.  Until I get a full paycheck, I'm probably better off avoiding it.

Nerdy by Nature

So Five wasn't really sold on the whole Japan thing.  She had a bad experience one time in Narita which sort of put the kibosh on her desire to actually enter the country.  However, knowing how much I love it, she was willing to give Japan a chance.  And then I uttered a phrase that changed her level of enthusiasm for the trip: "Hey, you're a Harry Potter fan, right?"

When I was here in October, I argued a long time with myself about whether or not I should go to Universal Studios Japan.  I really wanted to go to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, but I thought it would be kind of lame to go to a theme park by myself, and in the end I was way too busy.  This time, upon uttering the magic words, there was no going back.  Five was all about it.

We each did lots of research about USJ and we agreed that we would get our entry ticket for later in the day, but when we got there, we couldn't help ourselves.  We wound our way through the Forbidden Forest to the gates of Hogsmeade, where we commenced to indulge our consumeristic impulses and made like rich people, buying overpriced food and dope yolo swag because it's really easy to justify it when you're on vacation. 

Five was more into the merch, and picked up a wand and a scarf.  Meanwhile I fell in love with butterbeer.  It tastes a lot like cream soda, but that foam on top makes it.  I obviously don't know what is in it.  If I had to guess, I'd probably say crack.  I don't even care.  It is everything I imagined it would be.  Besides tons of butterbeer and lunch in the Three Broomsticks I picked up a cauldron cake from Honeydukes, and that was tasty, too.

As an art teacher, I thought the portraits were particularly good

Eventually we headed out of the village towards the school.  Hogwarts offers two options for people interested in checking it out...the castle walk or the ride.  During the morning we tried the walk.  It was nice, because you kind of had the place to yourself and got to see lots of things, like the entrance to Dumbledore's office, the portrait of the Fat Lady, etc.  And we thought that was pretty cool until we saw where the ride finished: in the Great Hall, with all the candles over the ceiling.  So we decided that when we came back later we'd put up with the long line and do the ride.  The line was bad.  Not the worst in the park - one ride reported a 300 minute wait - but we were in line for an hour and 20 minutes.  Most of which we spent discussing which attractions we needed for Middle Earth, our Lord of the Rings theme park (aka, plan z...in case the Tolkein estate or Warner Bros. happen across this post, these were some of our ideas: a Barrel Ride, a dragon roller coaster - there should maybe be some fire in it? - an electric parade and fireworks for the eleventieth birthday party, a haunted house for Orthanc, and a finale walk through in 3 stages where you beat Shelob, rescue Frodo from the orcs, and throw the One Ring into Mt. Doom.  Make it happen.)  We almost fell out over creative differences a couple of times - I still say LOTR is not a children's franchise - but thanks to that conversation, the time actually flew by.

Even if it hadn't, it was SO worth it.  You legit feel like you're riding a broomstick.  It is scary and magical and fun and the minute we finished the ride we went and got back in line AGAIN, wait or no wait.  That's how good it was.  Unfortunately, just as we were getting close to the front of the line the second time, the ride had to shut down temporarily.  Five thought someone threw up - I believe it was probably someone losing something because their dumbass took their phone or their keys or something with them.  Whatever the case may be, we sat there for at least 20 minutes waiting for the ride to start again before Five took pity on me and decided we should go; I was hoping to hit the Jump Shop in the shopping area outside the park on our way home, and I'd already suffered one crushing disappointment for the day.  

We did more at USJ, of course, but I'm saving that blog for tomorrow, cause I gotta write one of my signature angry blogs and I need to properly wind myself up for it.  Instead, I'm going to rewind to a related experience from Kyoto - our visit to the Owl Forest.  Now Harry Potter world has an owlery in Hogsmeade full of packages and toy owls, but since I knew the Owl Forest was in Teramachi Arcade (at the south end, if you're interested in checking it out), I was sort of hoping Five would want to do that, too.

The Owl Forest is a fairly small attraction, although there is a second forest in the same building under the same management with bengal cats.  It offers the opportunity for visitors to see and - in most cases - touch different species of owl.  I'm fairly certain most people haven't seen owls in real life, them being nocturnal and all, so this is a pretty cool thing.  Especially when you're able to touch a snowy owl named (surprise!) Hedwig two days before you visit Hogwarts.

Both of us had some reservations about the experience, particularly after that one time we went dogsledding.  For starters, owls are nocturnal, and the owl forest is open during the day.  There's also the fact that they are tethered, although that one concerns me less, since I've seen eagle hunters and know that this isn't necessarily harmful.

On a scale of one to ten, I'd give it a 5.5.  Owls are wild animals, and are probably not as happy as they could be tethered indoors for the amusement of humans.  At the same time, they all seemed to be extremely well cared for - their feathers were soft and glossy and they overall seemed to be in good health.  The people who visited while I was there all seemed to be very careful and I'd even say they had a kind of awed (or is it awwww-ed?) expression on their faces, and I think that's a valuable point.  If we as human beings have a chance to interact with animals we might be putting in danger with our actions, maybe we'll be a little more careful.  Maybe I'm just justifying it, but I don't think it's totally a bad thing.

Mush Ado About Nothing

I've tried out more forms of transportation than the average person.  Hell, just in my trek from Greece to Egypt in 2008 I used planes, trains, cars, buses, trams, a ferry, a camel, a horse, a felucca, and probably one or two that I've forgotten.  One form that has been tempting me for the four years I've lived in Mongolia, though, is dog sledding.  Every winter, Engrish and I talk about wanting to do it, and every winter, we fail to get out acts together and actually go.  Until now.

With Five and I leaving at the end of the year, this was going to have to be the year.  Five took point on this one and contacted one agency - a French guy who does longer treks - only to be told that he was booked solid (for which, in retrospect, I thank all that is good in the world).  She didn't let this stop her, and imposed upon Wild Ass to help her contact some of the Mongolian agencies who offer dogsledding, and eventually Engrish and I were informed that we were ger camping at UB2 this weekend after a delightful dog sledding experience.

Enkhaa drove us up to Terelj, and we set about finding them.  The owner said that it was next to the river, near the bridge at the entrance to the park, but we went there and waited for a while, but didn't see them.  Finally we called again, and again, and again, each time getting a little closer to where we were supposed to be.  Eventually we saw the teams mushing along, and found our way to the meet-up point.

We waited a few minutes while the dogs had a chance to catch their breath, and then we were each told to go get on a sled.  Up until that point, I don't think any of us had really thought too hard about the concept of dog sled, but actually sitting on one, I found myself feeling pretty bad for the dogs.  It was cold out - not the coldest day by far this winter, but still pretty uncomfortable for my toes.  At the starting point the dogs were tethered to a fence, and they were yipping and whining as they waited.  In my mind, I realized they were working dogs, and teams like these have been pulling far more than my weight over greater distances in less hospitable climates, but I still felt like a terrible person.

Finally, the drivers were ready and we set off.  Engrish and Five got off to a good start, but as soon as my lead dog was unclipped they began...champing at the bit?  You probably can't apply horse terms to dog sleds, but regardless, they were raring to go, and my driver couldn't untie the knot at first...he had to re-tether the lead dog and back everyone up before getting us loose.  Finally, we were gliding over the ice, and I found myself torn between continuing to feel sorry for the dogs and fear that the sled would turn over, spilling me onto the hard ice and smashing my precious camera.

There's a saying that unless you're the lead dog, the view never changes, and from my seat on the sled, I realized that this was true.  What the saying does NOT adequately express is that unless you're the lead dog, you also expose yourself to the very real threat of flying turd.  As we followed the trail along the river and then through some trees, the delightful aroma of feces wafted up to me, and I realized why the dog in front of me was running weirdly...someone didn't go before we left the house.  Luckily there were no fatalities.

It was about 30 minutes from start to finish, but my toes were done after five.  They felt like blocks of ice, and when the driver stopped the sled to let me try driving, and I felt bad for the dogs...and Engrish, whose team seemed to have a couple of Dugs in it, wanting to chase after squirrels.  Actually, Engrish could have run faster than the teams, although probably not while she was dragging either me or Five along behind her. As I stood on the back of the sled, I was a little bit terrified.  I'm not exactly the best driver when the vehicle is fully automatic with power steering.  I'd been paying attention during the ride - trying to ignore the pain in my toes - and it seemed like the driver kept the sled balanced by shifting his weight from side to side.  Up til then, I had no clue how the dogs stopped - it seemed to be by telepathy - but it turned out you put your weight on a pedal that brakes the sled.  There was also the fact that there were unfrozen patches of the river along this part of the route, and I now had visions of myself capsizing the sled - you can ask Babysis how good I am at flipping vehicles over sometime - and freezing to death.  But alas, we got back to the starting point safely, and the three of us vowed that we would never do it again.

Don't get me wrong - I feel that there was value in the experience.  I can understand how difficult life was for the teams that helped deliver supplies and news to early Alaskan settlers, and I have more respect for those people who keep the tradition alive by participating in the Iditarod each year.  But once is enough, and I sort of wish I'd known more about the company before we booked it - without going into too much detail about things I don't really understand, I don't think the dogs were treated as well as they should have been.  I wanted to give a big steak to each of my dogs for being such a great team, and let them sleep in our nice warm ger for the night - and if you've been paying attention, you know I'm not a dog person, so this is saying a lot.  Instead we left, with Enkhaa telling us, "I told you so."  We offered to let him try it, too, and he said he didn't want to, that it felt disrespectful to him.

Back at UB2 Enkhaa and Engrish went for a run while Five and I pretended to take naps but actually talked.  I gave up on napping and started sewing, and when Engrish got back she convinced Five to go for a hike.  Later on, after a round of their favorite game, Quiddler, they made the best damn shashlik I've ever had, proving that Engrish is a true ger-camp gourmand.  We talked into the night, having one of the best catch-ups we've had in a while, and not just because we were discussing the interview I'd gotten up at 5 that morning for.  After breakfast we went out for a walk, with Five and I nerding out over our upcoming trip to Japan, especially everything we were going to do in Universal Studios.

It's hard to believe I'll be gone in five months.