An Absolute Shit Show

Behold - I am about to tell you a tale about a night at a museum.  Herein may be the Japaneeziest of all the experiences I've had while leaving in Japan.  Because tonight, I am not just writing about any old museum.  Oh, no.  Tonight I am regaling you with stories (and lots of really shitty jokes) from Yokohama's new Unko Museum.  That is to say, the Poop Museum.

Before my life as an expat, I can honestly say I never gave much thought to pooping.  It was something everyone does, but it wasn't exactly a common discussion topic for me.  Maybe that has to do with my upbringing, I'm not sure.  Suffice it to say that this changed when I moved to Korea in 2004.  At first I thought it was because one of my partner teachers was kind of a fecalphiliac.  Or hell, if not that, she at least found a much wider range of things acceptable to chat about, and had fewer filters.

What I gradually came to realize, though, is that back home, there's really no need to discuss the deuces you're dropping.  You kind of know what to expect when building a log cabin.  Once you break out of that safe zone, crazy shit starts to happen.  Literally.  For example, the grape juice we used to give our kids at snack time would turn your poop green.  This, of course, must be described and discussed at length, in order to truly appreciate the experience.  My point - long-winded as it may be - is that the days when I'd hesitate to go to a museum about poop are long gone.

Although, if I'm being honest, it was pretty shitty as far as museums go.  There was really nothing educational about it.  Sometime in the last couple of years these things started popping up - Instagrammable experiences marketed as museums.  That shit is pretty much for the birds, but since I didn't make it to Tokyo in time for the thing I was hoping to be writing about right now, I guess it worked out okay.  It cost a shit ton of money, but my good friend Sensei treated myself and the Director, in celebration of the fact that one of the biggest shits we work with was on his way out.  We joked about bringing him a poop souvenir - Sensei taught us that "un" can mean luck in Japanese, to which I chimed in that "ko" means little, and as we headed over to Asobiru we snickered at the idea of wishing him "little luck."

But enough about that - you want to know about the so-called museum.  After standing in line for a good 15 minutes, we gathered into a small space with our new "unko friends" to watch animated poop on a tv screen and cheer, "Unko!"  We were then ushered into a second room, full of colorful, numbered thrones, upon which we were instructed to sit and try our best to squeeze one out.  A magical sound filled the space, and when we looked in the pot, behold, there was a mystical turd.  I was somewhat jealous the Director's golden poo, and pointed out that it made her a Lannister.*

After that, it was kind of a magical mystery tour of photo ops, all featuring that swirly shape, although none of them seemed to be brown or stinky.  There was one small section with games and gag gifts from all over the world, which - as Sensei pointed out - showed that no matter where you’re from, we all recognize that shape as being poop.  Although I have to point out, as an art teacher, that most animals don’t create turds of delightful stacked swirls.

The Poo Princess tea party was just a little too reminiscent of the strawberry dolly buffet we went to back in March.  Also, the soft, pastel colors used throughout the unko museum had the unnerving effect of making me want dessert.  Probably not the reaction you should have, but as I already pointed out, poop generally isn’t really that shape.  Ice cream, on the other hand...

My favorite of the photo ops was the lantern room, a clear knock-off of the one at TeamLab Borderless, except that it was smaller, had turd-shaped lanterns, and you didn't have to wait 20 minutes to go through.  No, the bigger wait was to play one of the video games starring poop.  The lines were filled with little shitheads and since I’m not that kind of nerd, I gave it a pass.  We finally made our way out via the gift shop, where we brainstormed a lot of MUCH better merch they should be selling - turd-shaped chocolates, for example.  One thing that was slightly tempting was the pink poop hat that some of the staff were wearing (“Guess he’s got a pretty shitty job,” quipped the Director).  I had visions of taking it to Mongolia with me and making the kids wear it when they act up, but I have a feeling it would cause more problems than it would solve, because they would ALL want to wear it.

So why do I say that this is the most Japanese of all experiences I've had here?  Well, although I’ve definitely opened up when it comes to talking about poop since my innocent college days, I still don’t think we are as comfortable talking or joking about “dropping the kids off at the pool” back home as people are in Asia generally.  Japan, though, takes it to a whole new level.  Whether it’s the vast ass-ortment of poop toys available at Daiso or a dating sim where the cute boys you are trying to charm are based on kinds of poop, Japan has more toilet humor than anywhere else in the world I’ve been.  Although this kind of experience/museum can be found anywhere in the world, I feel like only in Japan would you find one dedicated to crap.  On the off chance that another place did make one, it could never be as kawaii, because that’s di-stink-tly Japanese as well.  So while sumo and kabuki, festivals and even robot restaurants are all well and good, I’d still argue that the Unko Museum captures the spirit of modern Japan more truly than any other  experience I’ve had.

*If you've never watched or read Game of Thones - there are a few of you out there - the joke is that this family is so rich that they shit gold. 

On the Road, Off the Road

There is little I dislike more in life than pooping outdoors.  I grew up on a farm, and I can cope with it, but while 6.5 years of living in Asia has resigned me to peeing over a hole, I have yet to take a poo over a squatter.  Luckily, for me regularity means once every three days, so when I disappeared with my book into the lovely flush toilets at the Blue Wolf ger camp in Olgii, I figured I'd dodged that bullet again.

I did not poop behind these rocks, but it would have been a good place, if not for the snow.

But here's a little fact for you: nomadic families have milk running through their veins instead of blood.  Okay, not really, but the way that they put back milk tea would convince you otherwise.  Since it's rude not to drink, I've perfected the art of pretending to sip politely.  It's a double strike-out, when you're Mormon and lactose intolerant.  However, since I'm only mildly lactose intolerant, I make up for it by eating plenty of bread and cream.

Note: eat enough fresh cream, and you won't make it three days without pooping.  I'm just saying.

Not a house.  More like a barn.

Engrish, Geek, and I decided since we weren't coming back to UB until Thursday that we should get out into the countryside and take a stab at seeing Tavan Bogd, Mongolia's highest peak.  Canat, who owns the Blue Wolf, told us we could stay in tents at base camp, or go up a different valley and stay with a nomadic family near the glacier, which we would climb in order to see the mountain.  A couple of us (not to name names) were a little afraid of staying in tents up that high in October, so we went with the second option, and it's all for the best.  The snow that you see in the top photo blew in on us the second morning we were out, and we couldn't see the other side of the valley, let alone Tavan Bogd.  And from what we heard, the people who did go for the base camp all ended up staying in the same family's home - the woman we talked to said there were already 8 tourists hunkered down when she got there.

So we had a great trip, and except for eating more cream than I should, staying with families was great.  You have a little more space in a house than you do in a ger, and that's a wonderful thing.  The first family that we were with had the most laid back cat I have ever seen in my life.  Their two daughters manhandled it a LOT, and it just went along for a ride.  They also had a young goat which spent most of its time tethered to a corner of the "kitchen counter."  I'm sorry for the lack of pictures, but I kind of hate taking photos of people's homes.  I feel like it's an invasion of their personal space, and since I want to be a good guest, no pics for you.

We made the trip out there in one afternoon - leaving around noon and getting to the house just as it was getting dark.  One LONG, BUMPY afternoon.  We'd joked with Enkhe, our driver, about bringing us out here if our flight was cancelled, and he said that it would have been the Land Cruiser's last journey.  Having been over those roads now, I believe him!  Geek and Engrish seemed to fare alright, but my back was all kinds of strained and I had bruises from being jostled against the car door. We were in a Russian van that had 6 seats in the back, so we had plenty of space, and windows enough to enjoy the view.  During the journey I became convinced that whoever designed the Russian tank must have also had a hand in the design of the Russian van.  Those things are unstoppable.

Since we missed Tavan Bogd, you may be thinking that our time was wasted.  First of all, spending time in the countryside is never wasted (for me, it helps me to appreciate UB a little bit more...Engrish, on the other hand, has a more authentic appreciation for its charms).  But even if you hate fresh air and blue skies so bright they hurt to look at, you probably can't help getting excited at petroglyphs.  The petroglyphs scattered across the Altai mountains are one of Mongolia's three world heritage sites, and some are as old as 11,000 years!  You don't need to be a history teacher (Geek) or art teacher (me) to think that's fascinating!

I mentioned the Kazakh cemeteries yesterday, but I didn't mention another memorial: the anthropomorphic stone statues called balbals left behind during the Turkic era.  We read about them in Lonely Planet and Canat promised we'd be able to see one, but explaining what we wanted was a little difficult even with Engrish's mad Mongolian skills.  In the end we got there with, "It's a rock with the face of a man."  You can see our cook on the left and our driver on the right.  We weren't sure what we were getting ourselves into, hiring a cook, but it turned out to be one of the best decisions of our trip.  Jemisbek produced the most delicious meals, and I swear he must have worked with foreigners a lot, because he didn't cook a single thing that we were hesitant to eat.  The pinnacle of our experience was besbarmak, or Five Fingers (because that's how you are supposed to eat it), a Kazakh dish of boiled mutton, potatoes, carrots, and this scrumptious steamed long pastry-ish roll thing that had cabbage and onion inside.  The last day of our trip, after our world class driver took us through a pretty strong river, we stopped by the river and had a picnic, with the food - which was delicious - cooked on the spot by Jemisbek. 

Total inclusive cost for the three of us out in the countryside: $550.  That included our driver, our gas, our cook and food, the border permits, some money for the families with whom we stayed, and I'm sure something else I'm forgetting.

Total value of being intrepid, outdoor-pooping explorers: priceless.