Health Care

Health care is probably my biggest political issue. Probably. It is one of the things that keeps me estranged from the USA and represents an actual barrier to returning. Why the have I been silent on the issue? I don't know. It all seems hopeful and frustrating and unreal. Also, I have nothing substantial to add to the issue except that Americans deserve government health care. Government funded health care works and people who disagree are misguided. That is pretty simple.

I love my Japanese health care. It costs a lot. I owe money to it right now. But I don't take it for granted. Here was an article in the Japan Times of someone with a slightly different opinion.

This man in the street poll indicates my general feeling on how non-Japanese in Japan regard health care here. In my experience I have found two general categories of people who aren't crazy about it:

1. Europeans who have access to health care and are put off by the low-tech look of Japanese hospitals or for paying their share of the burden.

2. Young Americans from stable backgrounds who are, for the first time, off their parents plans. This group includes many JETs who complain constantly about who lame Japanese hospitals are. They, even the most liberal of them, represent the barrier to health care in America because they still don't get that the question is about access.

I have no access to medical care in America. The last time I sought medical care in America, it cost my family $10,000. That is a barrier. An insurmountable barrier. In Japan I am free to be competitive in martial arts, hike, surf, get a cold, whatever, because all I have to do is go to the hospital. Any hospital I want to. I have met lots of young non-Japanese here who sound just as petulant as the town hall screamers back home. Their problem with Japanese hospitals is that they smell funny, or the slippers were worn out or that the machines looked more Night Rider and less Star Trek: TNG. Any hospital looks better than rolling around on my floor trying to work up the guts to jam my knee back into joint. That is what America promises right now. And even a good medical plan doesn't let you go to the dentist whenever you feel like it so when your teeth rot out you have to pay to get all of them fixed out of your pocket. Not to mention that the only pre-condition to me obtaining insurance is telling someone my address. That is it. No examination. No family history. No pre-existing conditions. What happens in America isn't medical care, it is the flanking, cavalry attack of class-warfare. It is a real slaughter with a real body count and as much as I bitch about Japan I am very grateful that they have granted me a pardon on this count.

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Wolverine

I like going to the movies. This can get me in trouble. I have seen some bad ones. Enter Wolverine. Or whatever souped up title it has been given. It was watchable in the sense that I wasn't in my house and I had some popcorn and Natsuki, who knows nothing of X-Men liked it.

The failing of this movie, however, was built into the X-Men movie franchise from the beginning. That fundamental flaw is that Hugh Jackman, who seems like quite a likable guy, is an awful choice for the part. I am sure it is not because he is a bad actor, although I can't recall anything I thought he was good in. His main difficulty, which he doesn't seem to have the chops to overcome, is that he is a talented, good-looking, well adjusted, successful guy. Wolverine's appeal is that he is none of those things. He is an honestly rotten person. Not rotten in the clever rebel since. Or the redeemable loner. The first X-Men I remember reading, Wolverine was drunk in an alleyway, smoking and trying to talk Jean Grey into giving him one on the side.

I don't want to come off like an otkau stickler. The Master and Commander books are my favorite things in the world, yet I have no problems with the movie which takes great liberties. I can get over Wolverine being a little more tall than he is short. A tall, blond, Stephen Maturin didn't put me completely off for God's sake. I thought Watchmen was alright and it contained a fundamental plot difference. Jackman's problem is Hayden Christiansan's problem from My Life as a House, all the way through the Star Wars travesty, he is so obviously the prom king, being anything less seems like he is taking the piss. Of course, there are actors who can pull this transition off. Sean Penn and Harvey Keitel come to mind. Jackman in the Wolverine role only illustrates the talent gap.

I understand that Hollywood's motivations and my taste run divergent courses, but Batman, in its various forms, has been fairly good. Spiderman surprisingly so. The directing and writing in Wolverine seemed especially sloppy and it cried out for a consistent tone and voice. But really, what is another 100 million thrown down onto something that could have been so much better.

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Frog in a Well

While I am on that tip; Frog in a Well is an excellent blog on all things Japanese.

Also Ancient Japan. Which is, sadly, no longer updated.

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Lasting Samurai

Here is a rad museum parody that addresses some of the protestations that I usually make about movies like Last Samurai. Really, if you were a common Japanese person, would you have rooted for Tom Cruise to defeat the government and preserve violent, arbitrary, warlord rule? Of course this sight does the criticism a lot better and deeper. I once found an essay on samurai death culture and how most of it was centered around warriors who never fought and were therefore free to contemplate death, but I can't remember where I read it......curses.

(OH, maybe it is the article linked to by the website. Cheers.)

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町石道ー Choishimich- Hiking to Koyasan

I believe in Esoteric Buddhism as much as I believe in anything that I don't believe in. I don't even find Buddhism very interesting. I think it is tedious and soporific and silly. It resists absorption by my brain as if it were mathematics. However- It was always coming wasn't it-However, Buddhism, Esoteric Buddhism in particular got a few things right: It conducts business on a human scale. It is accessible to you in your body as a human. Maybe that is why ancient Buddhism did architecture so well. It's buildings are often large, to be sure-grand even- but they are large to us as humans, not unfathomable. The World Trade Center, to use an unfortunate example, was about as bad as buildings can be. Terrible. Forced. Todaiji on the other hand: magnificent. Resplendent. Great.

That is why when I found myself going to Koyasan over Silver Week I decided to approach it as a human should, in the footsteps of Kukai (空海）, ascending the 6 hours of worn trail into the mountains known as the Choishimichi (町石道）.　　For those not in the know a Cho　町　is the ancient Japanese measurement that is around 109 meters. This path to Koyasan is composed of 180 stone markers marking one cho. Most people these days go by cable car or drive on the roads. Is it too self-righteous of me to shake my head at those who will weekend at a holy retreat by starting and ending in a parking lot? Has self-righteousness aver stopped me before?



I took on the journey with Natsuki and Eri who, while far more Japanese than me, are about as esoteric as a new washing machine expo. Yet both might be considered intrepid. Many pilgrims begin their circuit of Shikkoku with a visit to Koyasan. Although there were many Ohenrosan on the train, none got off at Kudoyama station with us. Japanese maps and signs are notoriusly spotty- brief aside, not only did the map at the station not orient to north, the inset of the map pointed in yet another direction- so we made our way downhill, to cross the river and begin at Jison-in, a UNESCO World Heritage site. It was being attacked by pumpkins.







This is stone 180 and the stais leading to it from the back of the shrine. This will be the rate of climb for about the next hour up the mountain.



But then there you are in a kaki field towering over Wakayama while the smell of whale bacon simmers in a wooden kitchen somewhere.







The great thing about hiking in the fall is that farmers leave buckets of fruits everywhere and charge about a dollar for bags of them. In this case you can take 5 or 6 kaki for 100 yen. Why 5 or 6? I don't know. I wouldn't have packed a lunch had I known though, as these were excellent.



Ascending from the kaki fields the trail gets more enclosed and very Lord of the Rings. The forest isn't old growth, but the trail is very old. It was laid down in the 800s. The stone markers replaced wooden markers in the Heian Period.





And as we entered Mordor.



The trail is very well marked. It would be very hard to get lost. One small draw back to the natural setting is that a large golf course borders the trail for an hour or two half way in. As we approached it, we exclaimed, "Wow, nature is so green! No! It's a golf course." Shame.



Marker 100.



A remnant of a pilgrimage.

The frequnecy of pictures drop off a bit here because it started to rain on us about 5 hours in. This was after encountering a suprising bluff, a snake, a dead mole, and paralleling a noisy road that is rather distracting. There was also a strange grove of palm trees.



About an hour or two from the goal, you cross a large intersection. This is where you realize you didn't need to pack any food and that you resent cars. There is also a bathroom here. Out of the intersection is the steepest climb of the hike. It doesn't last long though. There are huge ceder trees and a bunch of rocks from Japanese mythology. I put my camera away so it wouldn't get wet.

The very end of the hike is a steep series of switchback leading up to the Daimon （大門）　　which, true to the kanji, is very large. Here the road makes a hairpin turn in front of the gate that faces you, the hiker. As the young priest at the temple where we stayed rightly said, "If you come here in a car, you have no idea why the gate faces that way." I have been pretty consistent since my days as an urban planning undergrad in insisting that some places should be hard to get to, and not every experience should be made easy. I am being an ass, but an accurate one, when I say that people that tell me that they have been to Koyasan but haven't made the hike there, haven't been to Koyasan.

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Yatsubuchi no Taki 八淵の滝 Hike

This is the hike described on pages 223-227 of Lonely Planet's Hiking in Japan 2001 edition.

I decided to do this hike for part of Silver Week 2009 for two reasons; One because Odai ga Hara is apparently still closed due to a landslide and two because this hike is not dampened by koyo (autumn leaves) not yet being in full effect.

What has changed from the book is the bus schedule. We left Imadegawa at 7:04, changed at Kyoto and made it to Omitakashima in time for the 8:59am bus. Horror of horrors, the bus has been moved back to 9:03am. Natsuki and I were the only hikers wandering around in front of the lonely station for about 40 minutes, buying canned coffee, pondering the statue of Gulliver dragging boats and watching two rather old ladies fiddle with their pricey road bikes. The bus showed up around 8:50am and we got on because we had nothing else to do. I asked the driver if it was the bus to Kurodani in Japanese and he gave me a very good explanation of the full route in English. I usually engage in a battle of pride for which language I will speak with people, but he charmed me into throwing in the towel with his complete lack of confidence coupled with his complete competence in communication. As we were sitting in the back of the bus alone, a swishing herd issued from the not yet electronic station. The express train had let out and every mountain walker who was over the hill and ready to roll　had turned up in their, subdued, Montbell greens, browns and grays. There were two other foreigners as well and I remarked to Natsuki "We all have the same book."

The bus takes about 30 minutes to get to Kurodani as it goes first to the Gulliver camp grounds, where everyone but us got off. Natsuki began to get skeptical as there wasn't a crowd anymore. The bus then backtracks to an intersection and heads towards Kurodani. One smart loner had gotten off at the intersection and walked to Kurodani, cutting about 15 minutes off of his time. We got off the bus by a small cabin serving pasta and started up into the village. Natsuki's skepticism turned to incredulous as I told her "There's the vending machine where we turn left." Whatever. There is a reason there are no Japanese space pirates. Kurodani is a nice little village that looks like the winters are hard. The road has crystal clear water flowing down both sides. A road leads into the woods were a sign stands saying declaring the hike to be dangerous, for serious hikers with proper equipment who know what they are doing. People die here every year. You might die to so fill out a card. We did and Natsuki was grateful that I talked her into buying boots instead of wearing tennis shoes.

May I take this opportunity, while not doing too much foreshadowing, or overhinting at not so existent excitement, to declare that this IS, indeed, a very hard hike. Not always. And not in some ways that other hikes can be. But this hike has a very, very slim margin of error where you getting all deaded up real quick is entirely possible. This isn't a fun day in the woods that you decide to just go do. Even though it is, without a doubt, fun. And it is in range to just go do. Wear boots. Be in shape. Think about what you are up to and have the confidence to do. Check the weather. Be serious about it.

From the sign the hike is a nice 50 minute stroll in the woods by a stream. The trail can be a little hard to read at times, but there are red marks around to help you. In general, stick to the right side of the river.

The falls start at Gyodome Taki (魚止滝）．Which means, "Where the Fish Stop." And I guess they would. Here we ran into about 8 Japanese people in dry suits and helmets working their way up the river. In the river. I suppose a trail drops down from Gulliver camp grounds as we also ran into the white guy from the bus here. Just below the falls there is a bit off a false crossing. The trail is marked on both sides, so we crossed. But you just cross back again about 50 feet up so you should just stick to the right.

And that's when the CHUDs came after me. From here on it gets real life, batshit crazy. I wish I had pictures but I wasn't sure about the wet factor and the death factor so I left my camera at home. An excuse to go back. My shoes were soaked already though from the false crossing. You start making your way up to the falls by a system of chains nailed into the rock. Some are old and brown, some are new and shiny, but they all seem like a fucking joke. I think I screamed and laughed in terror as I saw each new challenge. In this early area, when you cross back to the left of the river, you have to crawl over a few slippery boulders and trust a log that is lodged in the water. If you make it across that, you have to go on chains and pegs to a narrow ledge and a slippery ladder. It is like playing at being a monkey. A crazy, thrill obsessed water monkey. My kind of monkey.

I could describe each section in detail, but all I could yell at the time was "This is crazy and scary and beautiful!" And that is what it is for the next 1-2 hours. Midway through the falls section you intersect with a trail down from Gulliver. You already think of these people as despicable civilians and you pity and despise them. Keep going because you will be scaling a 75-degree, wet cliff in a few minutes. I also saw a Hibakari (a slim brown snake) on the trail just above this section. The further you climb, the less people you see. The less people you see the more ridiculous Robin Hood fantasy land you enter. The top sections of these falls might be the most beautiful terrain I have seen on earth, but I am prone to capriciousness and overstatement.

Above the falls, the valley narrows and gets stuffy and close. It began to smell like a dump wrapped in an old wet rug, which is to say it smelt like bear. Very possible. We had been passing crushed acorns for a while. We started talking loud and clapping and quickly came over a ridge where everything got hot and dry and sandy. Flies swarmed around us and we had a great view of Biwako (琵琶湖）。　　

From here on it is what is described in the book; a series of ridge lines run together and you get insane views of the world below. We saw a few other hikers along this stretch, but not many, and we weren't sure where they came from. The flies were the real nuisance through this section. There were at least 30 on me at all times. You drop and climb between the summits and this wore on Natsuki's spirit and my shoes. The last few drops are much steeper and more difficult than the book lets on. Maybe the terrain has changed, or maybe the writer is a descent specialist, either way it got a little rough. A lot of the climb down is through gullies or washes. As I was placing my hands to steady myself a medium sized black snake took notice and gave way a bit. Things got very bear like again and we were joined by brown frogs who were also on their way down. The last two hours went on forever and the sole of my right shoe decided to slip its mortal coil, which made the going quite comfortable. Walking strangely to compensate my pinkie toes began to swell like little pigs in a blanket.

When you finally hit the road at the bottom you feel it is about time. There were "campers" sitting around wooden houses playing with DSs and smoking. I disobeyed most advice I have heard and took of my broken shoes immediately. I walked the last bit to the train station bare foot only to find, of course, that my shoes wouldn't go back on my swollen feet. The train was also swollen with holidy tourists so I got to stand back to Kyoto, try to walk in my shoes to the subway and go shoeless home.

I recommend the hike highly, but it is rough. The last 5 hours are spectacular but nothing to compare to the thrill and beauty of the first 2. I might suggest doing the falls part and taking the cable car back from Hira.

As a side note, I am usually a fairly fast hiker and I finish most hikes an hour or so under the suggested time. Not so here. It took me 7 and a half hours from the trailhead to Kitakomatsu station.

Have fun.

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Geology

I had a conversation with a stubborn, smart geologist when I was home. I have found that many of this type think global warming is trifling and silly. Of course, they are geologists. They don't take notice of crazy shit like this.

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