Yukon Chatter Bug

Nanzen-ji is a Buddhist Temple established in 1291 that was within walking distance of our hotel.  Upon entering the grounds, you see a great gate called The Sanmon. Apparently it is one of the three largest gates in Japan.

Even at this time of year before everything is in bloom, the gardens are beautiful:

There are many rooms throughout that you can peek into. There are paintings on sliding panels (fusuma) decorated in Japanese landscapes and tigers. Visitors are not allowed to take photos of inside these rooms, but here is what the outside looks like:

There were several Zen gardens also:

And more photos around the temple grounds:

This wooded path seemed to lead up the mountain.

With only one full day in Kyoto, we didn’t have the time to visit everything we wanted, including the famous bamboo groves at the far west end of the city. But we did come across a smaller one:

To finish our evening, we walked along the main street where our hotel was located (The Westin Miyako Kyoto), and we came across this quaint little restaurant: Asuka. It had a Lonely Planet review displayed in the window, so we decided to give it a try.

Like in Korea, this restaurant had low tables and square cushions to sit on.

Dave showed his little note written in Japanese script mentioning his sesame allergy, and the two mamasans who seemed to run the place had no problem with it. We both enjoyed a delicious meal.

And this is the view that greeted us outside our bedroom window.

Before heading to Japan, we were understandably apprehensive. We had booked our flights and hotels before the disaster struck, and despite the fact that Kyoto hadn’t been directly affected, the whole country was in crisis. We decided to wait things out, and once in Korea, we made necessary phone calls and were reassured that all was well in Kyoto. Actually, once there, one would never have known what was going on in the north aside from the news casts.

At our hotel, there were events happening in the ballrooms which afforded us a glimpse of beautiful Japanese women dressed in traditional garb. After asking to take her photo, she asked the same of us.

These three young ladies were more than happy to pose for a photo:

Every evening we saw many women dressed up like this. It was stunning.

Walking through the streets of Kyoto, there are temples and shrines absolutely everywhere. In fact, it feels like every block has a couple of shrines and or temples. This one we found as we were exploring the Nishiki Market which I’ll write about later.

The first night in Korea, Iain (Dave’s brother) and Anne (his partner) brought us out for a Korean BBQ. Again, as in most Korean restaurants, the tables are low and we sit on flat square cushions on the floor. You remove your shoes at the door, so the floors are squeaky clean. You are always served a wet towelette to start, and then lots and lots of accompaniements like kimchi, greens, garlic slices, mushrooms, and other.

Anne did all the work for us, and even with his sesame allergy, Dave was able to join in the feast as you have much control over the food. You decide on the cut, whether it’s marinated, and what you put on it. It put a smile on his face.

At the entrance, there is a refrigerated display of different meat cuts to choose from. After a bit of browning, you pick up the slab of meat with tongs and cut it into smaller, bite-sized pieces using scissors, a required utensil in all kitchens. After cooking, you can either eat it as is, or season it with salt, wrapped in a sesame or lettuce leaf, topped with kimchi, sprouts, garlic, or any other condiment you want.

Korean utensils are a pair of metal chopsticks and a long-handled soup spoon. The metal chopsticks take a little getting used to as they don’t have the grip that wooden ones have, but with a little practice (and thank god for the spoon), we managed very well.

On our first day in Korea, we were greeted with what’s called a Civil Defense Drill. This drill used to be carried out monthly, but now it happens twice a year. All traffic stops for about 20 minutes, and people prepare for a possible air-raid or other threat.

That afternoon, we went to a quaint little coffee shop just around the corner that would fit right in in Whitehorse. The owner has different plants and trees all over the shop, some of which are only found in Korea.

And they served my favourite: Caramel Macchiato.

You think losing one hour is bad when switching to Daylight Saving Time? Try a whole day. That’s what happened to us since we had to cross the international date line to get to Korea. Eighteen hours after leaving home, we found ourselves touching down in Seoul, South Korea. We took the subway line out of the airport, and I was amazed to see an electronic map above each door showing the progress we were making on the way. TTC? Hello? Can you hear me?

After catching up on some sorely missed sleep, we headed for a walk up a hill to view the city of Incheon from above. We only went a short way, but the walking trails go all over this pine forest on top of hills.

It is cool and dry at this time of year, so there’s a lot of brown. Apparently it’s quite beautiful after they receive some rain. I still thought these pine trees were pretty.

There are many, many apartment complexes, I guess, like in any big city. Between the major streets, however, there is a system of very narrow streets (almost like back alleys). It’s easy to get lost in this maze, but it’s fun exploring.

North Americans can learn a great deal from Koreans. For instance, South Koreans put a lot of emphasis on an active lifestyle. They have gym equipment scattered all over in public places and free to use. One woman even whipped out her skipping rope as we were taking a leisurely stroll through a park.

My brother-in-law brought us for lunch in a traditional Korean establishment. This restaurant specializes in noodle soups. Notice how the tables are low and everyone sits on the floor to eat their meal.

We had the clam noodle soup with an order of dumplings. It was delicious!

To witness such brilliance, complexity, and movement in the Hamlet (solo) performance by Raoul Bhaneja is a must. I had the privilege of attending with a group of students this afternoon and am tempted to see the performance again. The whole of it is a piece of dramatic art to the fullest.

The actor uses nothing but his body to perform about 25 characters. Oh! The characters! He flows from one to the next without a blunder; his mastery of movement and voice make it easy for the audience to know who is speaking. No props, no costumes, no special effects. He uses every square inch of the stage and more, he uses every muscle in his face, and he uses every position humanly possible. From whispers to shouts that would wake the dead, the whole beauty of the play comes alive in the first instant and keeps you mesmerized until the end.

So, are you questioning whether to go, or not to go? Please, do yourself a favour, and get your tush in one of the cushy seats. That kind of performance deserves a full house.

Thursday and Friday, January 13 and 14, Yukon Arts Centre, 8pm.

January 15, Haines Junction

Not long ago I attended a mish-mash of storytelling and music at the Yukon Arts Centre, and what drew me there was my favourite storyteller, Ivan E. Coyote, about whom I’ve written before.

At the show, I got my hands on her latest collection of short stories, Missed Her, and as is the usual habit when reading her books, I couldn’t put it down.

Try saying the title out loud, and you’ll soon discover that it sounds like “mister”, which continues with her theme dealing with “fluidity in gender and sexuality, much like Coyote’s previous work.”*

The thread of her stories have a serious message with cringe moments scattered here and there, and they either leave you chuckling or pondering. Or both. Beautiful. Powerful.

And to give you just a little taste of her writing, here are some bits and pieces of language that left imprints for me:

“Ever heard of a place called Pink Mountain? [...] You can get a tire fixed and buy an Alaska Highway hunting knife with a fake bone handle made right there in China…”

“…a narrow hallway humbly covered in decades-old carpet hammered down by thousands of work boots and dress shoes, a worn-out roadmap that directed me to a doorway.”

“The midnight sun stretched the light so far and long that dusk was bent over backward enough to bump into the next day.”

“He was wearing brand new sneakers, so white they caught the sunlight and bounced it right back, bleaching the backs of my eyelids when I closed them.”

“She blurted out her words like machine gun bullets, like she had been rehearsing them for a while, her mouth pursed in a determined little raisin.”

“…trying not to let the tears spill over my bottom lids…”

“I needed a barber. A good, old-fashioned, wait-your-turn-twelve-bucks-take-a-little-off-the-top kind of guy…”

“Their chubby knees scrubbed and squishing out of the tops of sparkling white knee socks.”

And one powerful quote reminded me of a young fella in a school where I subbed a few years ago. He had been teased mercilessly about his gender. And I happened to notice he was in the audience that night:

“I hoped that the new pride he held in his shoulders wasn’t going to be pounded out of him in gym class, or while he tried to learn trigonomometry. I felt sad, but mostly I felt rage. Rage that we are beginning the second decade of the twenty-first century in what is supposed to be one of the most liberal and progressive countries in the world and still we haven’t made our schools safe for kids like him. That something as vital to his future as his education happens in a culture of fear and under the threat of violence.”

and take in the warm breezes of the Caribbean.

Carnival Spirit (similar to The Legend)

I snapped this photo of the Carnival Spirit arriving in Skagway, Alaska in August 2004 while I was on the Ethan B. tugboat (fodder for a later post). On the outside, it looks identical to The Legend which I’ll be sailing on in less than two weeks.

Lately, I haven’t suffered from any kind of medical condition affecting my ability to breathe, unless you consider writing up a little over a hundred report cards an asphyxiating-inducing condition. Which I did.

I calculated over 40  hours of work outside the teaching, planning, and kid-managing. Instead of putting in a full day’s work on weekends as usual, I spent a couple of full weekends at work in addition to late nights during the week.

Add to that student-teacher-parent conferences which went on until after 9pm on Thursday and all day Friday.

I could not and would not continue to work in this field if it weren’t for the time off such as the Christmas holidays that are just around the corner. Much too intense to be year-round.

There are two weeks left before my Christmas holidays, and I am sailing off to where the sun can feed my vitamin D deficiency, to where getting into bed doesn’t involve wool socks, to where daylight peeks through the curtains to wake me out of my slumber.

This adventure is a 65th birthday gift to my mom from my sis and me, but neither one of us has been on one before. So it’s a big treat for all of us.

The countdown is on: 12 more sleeps.

Corsets and fishnet stockings. Rice and confetti. Toasts. These were only some of the props from last night’s screening of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Though I had seen the movie before, I had never attended a screening with audience participation, hence being considered a virgin. Thank goodness I was spared from undergoing any kind of ritual for such matters as is the case at some screenings.

For all the other virgins out there, attending the show is more about participation than plot (if there is one). Even if you don’t know any of the lines, you soon learn some of the comebacks to yell at certain moments, and you can sit back and laugh at comments from “more experienced” addicts.

I came prepared with a bag of rice, some newspapers, and a deck of cards. Added to the table were a roll of toilet paper, confetti, noise-makers, and party hats. At specific moments during the show, audience members use the props that make for a huge mess to clean up afterwards. I’m glad people were discouraged from bringing anything wet (meatloaf and hotdogs), though one table did bring water-pistols, so the newspapers sure came in handy.

The event was a smashing success, and I can’t wait until next year’s screening for which I’ll be even better prepared.

Situation #1

To turn left onto Hamilton Blvd. from Falcon Dr. (near the French school), there is a lane for traffic to turn into before merging into the regular lane. Although there isn’t one of these if you’re turning left onto Hamilton from McIntyre Dr. (where the Race Trac gas station is), there is a Left-Turning Lane to Nowhere if you happen to be driving on Hamilton coming from Two Mile Hill as you approach the Race Trac gas station (see below). Simply moving the median over one lane would solve both problems at once.

View Larger Map

Situation#2

When I worked at a school in the north end of town, my morning drive consisted of signalling and merging at most intersections on the Alaska HWY even though I was the one in the through-way lane. Shouldn’t the drivers who are turning onto or off the highway be the ones having to change lanes and signal? In one spot, before approaching the intersection I had to signal and move to the outer lane, which was the throughway, but as soon as I’d hit the other side of the intersection, I’d end up in the turning lane. So I had to quickly signal and move back the to next lane. Confusing you say? Try driving here!

My rant for the day.