Footnotes from Tokyo (part1)

THE long walk through endless halls from the arrival area at Guam Airport to Gate 8 where we were scheduled to board the Continental Airlines to Narita Airport a couple of weeks ago should have been an omen of more walks and feet blisters to come.
I was with Jinky Kintaro, one of the members of the Saipan Awaodori Team that was set to perform for the Koenji Awaodori Festival and we had to transit through Guam. Everybody else in the group took the Delta Airlines flight straight from Saipan to Narita. The three-hour flight went by and we met up with the group in Narita Airport but the minute we boarded a van to go to Tokyo a couple of weeks ago, something seemed wrong.
For one, the steering wheel was at the right side of the car, like all the other cars. I was not driving anyway so why worry.
The horror began when we emerged from the airport parking space. Mayumi-san, our guide, drove effortlessly but at a speed which somebody who has lived in an island for the last five years would consider as “maddening.”
I was about to relax when suddenly, a huge truck was careening toward us, with the driver sitting on the wrong side of the car and driving on the wrong side of the road.
There was no time to recite my goodbyes and I closed my eyes bracing for the crash, which did not come. I learned later that Japanese people drive on the left side of the road.
Mayumi-san sped through numerous toll gates whose bars automatically lifted each time a car passes by.
Miraculously, we reached Koenji in one piece. It felt good to be alive after a terrifying two-hour ride. Used to the slow-paced life in Palau and Saipan for half a decade, Tokyo was overwhelming.
A bustling city of buildings, skyscrapers and more buildings, cars of the latest models speeding dizzily on the wide roads, and thousands of bicycles on the  streets which is being used by thousands of the city’s population as the best option for transportation.
Tokyo at this time is blisteringly, scorching hot. I thought fans were a part of the Japanese culture, now I know it is a necessity. Everybody uses fans everywhere—while walking, sitting or eating.
At 3 p.m., we were already so hungry, the memories of the airplane food long gone. We trooped to guess where—a McDonald’s outlet in Koenji where I ordered fish fillet, French fries and a glass of coke for 590 yen. But for dinner, we went to Okada Restaurant at Takashi Ma-Daira district and gorged up on Katsudon, sesame and vegetable soup, soba or the authentic traditional Japanese noodles dipped in sauce was good.
It felt so good to flop down in the soft bed at the room Misako-san (of Kinpachi Restaurant) gave me in her condo in Harajuko Street after a long day of changing planes, cars, trains, walking miles of corridors and hallways and going through the hassles of immigration and checking in and out of the airports.
Day 2
The shrill ringing of my cell phone alarm woke me up from a deep slumber. We were to go out at 7 am so I set my alarm at 6 a.m. With eyes still half-closed, I stumbled to the bathroom and woke up to the cool blast of the shower. I did not wait for the heater to work but I’ve taken my bath and changed but still, there were no other sounds of activity from Misako-san’s room or from Ronnie Boy, our videographer.
My first blooper for the day – I forgot to set my clock to Tokyo time, which is one hour ahead of Saipan time.
A few minutes later, I heard the voice of doom— we were called for breakfast. Misako-san’s mother Mama-san served bacon and vegetables, cabbage, sausage and toasted bread oozing with cheese. I mean Mama-san is a superb cook but for me whose vocabulary does not contain the word “breakfast”, it was an ordeal.
The day passed in a blur, with us picking up the kids from their apartment in Koenji and running from one subway station to another, running up and down stairs. We visited the Asakusa Nakamise shopping arcade and the Sinsoji temple, but more on this next issue.
The train stations, especially the Tokyo main station was a nightmare, so busy especially during peak hours. Human bodies are like ants squirming and rushing in from all directions and pouring in and out of the trains.
Misako-san, the rest of the group and everybody in Tokyo walks so fast while I was tempted several times to sit on the pavement and cry.
Day 3
I finally had an hour in the morning off. Lugging my laptop, I hurried to a Starbucks coffee outlet a few blocks down from Misako-san’s house and ordered coffee and a slice of cake. There were a thousand sites available but I could not connect to the internet, no matter how I tried.
Asking the waiters would be useless because my Japanese is limited to four prhases –“Ohayo gozaimasu or good morning,” “domo arigato or thank you,” “konbanwa or good evening,” and the most used of all, “wakaranai” or I don’t understand.
I found a 10-minute trial internet with www.fon.com and was finally connected. I replied to two emails and suddenly, the trial period was up. My effort to buy more airtime was futile. It was taking so long and my battery was hovering dangerously low.
What a dark life—no internet connection, no cellphone, no nothing. No connection to my origins whatsoever.
If you’re used to the friendly hi’s and hellos of the people here, forget it in Tokyo. Everybody’s absorbed in reaching wherever they are going. Oh, better luck tomorrow, I told myself.
Later, we went up to the 45^th floor of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building and enjoyed a superb 360-degree panoramic view of the whole city. Tokyo is very clean, despite its millions of residents. No smoke or smog can be seen from the observatory, other cities where visibility is limited because of black smoke.
Day 4
We were in Koenji once again, waiting for the biggest Awaodori Festival to begin in the district’s major streets. The Saipan kids were joining the street dancing with the Tokyo Tensuiren group. I had a couple of hours to spare so I tried to find an internet café.
Misako-san scribbled some Japanese characters on a piece of paper and told me to show it to anybody to ask for directions. Luckily, I found one café, at the basement of a department store. With one hour to spare, I spent the first 14 minutes trying to communicate with the receptionist that I want to get connected. She spoke no English and all I understood was she was asking for my passport. Okay. It took more minutes as I keyed in personal information in a computer before she finally ushered me into a plush booth.
Finally, I got connected with some friends but suddenly, the keyboard went Japanese. I spent another 13 minutes trying to solve what key I had pressed and by the time it was okay, I had to go out because the festival was about to start. I gave her a 1,000 yen bill and pocketed the change I discovered later that I paid 780 yen or almost $10 for an hour! On Saipan I pay 50 cents to a dollar for an hour of fast connection. Talk about the high cost of Tokyo living.
Day 5
We left the house at 5 a.m. and took the trains to Tokyo Disneyland. Thousands of people were already ahead of us, but I estimated about 80 percent of the Disneyland visitors were adults. Only 20 percent were kids. (More on this later)
Day 6
Nothing scheduled for the day so Ronnie Boy and I spent the day at Shinjuku and Shibuya combing the electronics shops and other stores. I went home empty-handed. My jaws practically dropped at the sky-high prices of gadgets and camera accessories, especially those made in Japan.
Later, I went out and finally had a leisurely street photography shoot until 10 p.m. It was time to go home and pack our things.
More footnotes
Here are some helpful tips I learned the hard way to get you around Tokyo.
*Japanese time is one time.
*Study basic conversational Niponggo before you go. It helps.
*Buses and trains have priority seats for the elderly and disabled, the pregnant and those with kids. Observe it.
*Lines are observed in bus stops. We didn’t fall in line and a couple of senior citizens allowed us to board ahead. It was embarrassing.
*When you ride the escalators, stay at the left side. The right side is for people who are hurrying.
*Walk in a single file in streets and stairways. I discovered this is not some part of the culture but a necessity, with the pedestrian lanes so narrow.
*Smoke only in designated areas.
*Don’t forget your fare card because you need it to board trains and buses.
Next issue, let’s visit Asakusa Nakamise shopping arcade and the Sensoji temple, one of Japan’s oldest tem

Magical nights at the SandCastle

THE lights go off, signaling the beginning of another night to witness “The Magic of Saipan.”
Two magicians saunter on stage to begin one of the crowd’s favorite illusions – sawing a woman in half, a performance that never fails to have everyone in the audience holding their breaths and holding on to the edge of their seats.
From there, everything flows smooth and fast as the magicians Chris Zubrick and Ryan Makowski and the dancers carry the audience from one scene to another with a dizzying speed of magic and wonder.
All eyes were glued on stage as Ryan performs his signature performance—the award winning dove act where he makes eight pure white doves appear, disappear and transform in mysterious ways.
One crowd pleaser is the “Table-Of-Death!” where Ryan gets chained down to a table with twenty-five steel spikes lit with fire looming overhead, giving him just seconds to free himself before the spikes plummet.
Adrenalin gets higher as a live Bengal tiger in a cage joins them on stage. The team works with two tigers Tumon and Ellie, a performance which they said is quite risky.
Watch the duo as they perform their classic style of very Las Vegas stage magic in a spectacular blur of colorful costumes, dazzling display of lights and fantastic mix of sounds, the graceful dance moves, the superb dinner and everything add to the enchantment of the magic that is Saipan.
It is one hour where international barriers are forgotten and everybody, young or old watches in wide-eyed anticipation to the unfolding of the universal language of magic which everybody understands.
Ryan is from Edwardsburg, Michigan while Chris is from Laingsburg, Michigan. Both had been performing magic for 17 years.
Ryan’s career started from a magic set he received for his 5th birthday, and he was hooked. Chris got enchanted by a magic toy he found inside a cereal box and that started everything.
”The Magic of Saipan,” has been voted “Best Show on Island!” and boosted Saipan as a premier travel destination for mainly Japanese, Korean, Chinese, and Russian tourists.
Visit www.ZubrickMagic.com for more information, or join the long list of friends at Facebook, follow them on Twitter, or watch videos of the show on their YouTube Channel!
I had been planning to watch the Magic of Saipan for the past months but only got the chance to do so with a buddy on Tuesday evening. I regretted not watching the magic earlier.
The Magic of Saipan is one hour of must-not miss jaw-dropping thrill punctuated by non-stop adventure, comedy, suspense, drama and non-stop excitement.
Sandcastle Saipan, LLC., operations manager Ravenal Jojo Valencia SandCastle Saipan said that they offer two packages for locals —the Deluxe Dinner Show and Deluxe Cocktail Show.
Enjoy a sumptuous dinner prepared by the Hyatt Regency’s chefs as you watch the magic unfold before you. Start with the lobster bisque soup, followed by salads, a delightful assortment of crispy garden greens. Move to the main entrée of grilled fillet mignon served with black pepper sauce, roasted rosemary, potatoes and seasonal vegetables or baked lobster tail with grilled Mahi Mahi, in aromatic herbs crust with lemon dill butter sauce.
Go for the Deluxe combination plate of Fillet Mignon & lobster tail or additional lobster tail for your seafood plate for a $15 additional, and cap your dinner with tiramisu and strawberry cream profiterole with fresh tropical fruits.
The Dinner Show is from 6pm – 8:15pm, while the Cocktail Show is from 8:45pm – 10:00pm. SandCastle Saipan is open nightly except Monday and Thursday. For package prizes and group discounts, please call 233-7263, fax 233-6565 or visit www.saipan-sandcastle.com.

Exploring the Japanese airport bunkers

DRIVING all the way to the Saipan International Airport will give you a view of these dilapidated cement bunkers, some of the grim reminders of Saipan as one of the sites where the bloodiest World War 2 took place over 60 years ago.
I got the chance to explore the bunkers along the Airport Road a few months back with some friends and took the chance to crawl into one to see what the bunkers look like from inside.
I learned from historical accounts in the internet that these bunkers saw a lot of action as taking over the Japanese airport has been one of the first targets of the Americans during the battle of Saipan.
Standing inside the bunker, I tried to imagine how many men had taken shelter in its hard walls as the battle raged on and bullets flew outside. The walls of the bunker bore large holes as it was hit by American tanks.
The airport Japanese bunkers which stand beside the road near a soccer field are among the attractions in the island that draws thousands of tourists each year.
The sentiments however end when your sight lands on the floor of the bunkers where trash including soda cans and food wrappers and other proof of human invasion are scattered.
When you pass by the Airport Road from March to July, the traces of the bloody World War 2 seen through the bunkers are softened by the beauty of the brilliant flame trees in full bloom, a merging of history and nature that creates a scenic merging that would send any photographer’s fingers itching to snap photos. For more of the CNMI’s attractions, visit http://wanderlustontheraks.wordpress.com.

Revisiting World War 2 relics

THE unmistakable sounds of canons exploding and machine guns firing, soldiers shouting and running is what one will hear from the lobby is more than enough to lure one to come in.
The virtual World War 2 museum located inside American Memorial Park Complete with flashing lights, booming sounds and narration of what transpired during the bloody battle on Saipan during the World War 2
The museum will give you a glimpse of what life in the islands was during the war.
Pick up a telephone receiver and press a button to hear accounts of the war from different individuals.
Leaf through the printed laminated pages of first person accounts of residents recalling the horrors they experienced as Saipan became one place where one of the bloodiest battles in the Pacific took place.
The museum is littered with cannon shells and casings, soldier’s helmets, armor-piercing artillery shells, grenades, boxes and crates used to house ammunitions, remains of dinner plates and water canteens some of them with shrapnel holes, sniper hats, rifle shells, caliber rifle cartridges, and everything else.
Name it and you have it there— all mute witnesses of the horrors of war and in memory of those who sacrificed their lives to save the nation.
The virtual World War 2 museum at American Memorial Park gets a fair share of visitors both locals and tourists everyday.
Seeing a tourist, especially those from Japan whose parents or grandparents were involved during the World War 2 here get sentimental and shed tears as they tour around the museum and look at the relics is a common sight.
The Visitors Center is open from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. everyday. Admission is free for everybody. For more information, please call (670) 234-7207, fax 234-6698, or email amme_administration@nps.gov.

Full moon at the Ladder beach

THE scene that greeted me when I emerged into the clearing of the Ladder Beach was like something out of fairytale book. Moonlight flooded the whole secluded cove below, the huge stones casting sinister shadows on the rocky sand as though they were creatures under some spell.
Mesmerized, I walked slowly down the flight of stairs passing the cave-like stone structures and flopped down into the shore, dangling my feet as near to the water’s edge as I dared.
Closing my eyes, I breathed in the comforting, salty tang of the ocean breeze and allowed the pleasant sounds of the giant waves rolling in from the Pacific Ocean to engulf me.
I had been to the Ladder Beach for several times, but being there during a full moon was a totally different experience. I wished to stay there for as long as I can but soon my buddies joined me and we trooped back to the camp fire to be with the rest of the group.
Darkness had set in for over half an hour when we earlier assembled at one corner of Obyan Beach for a full moon hike on Saturday evening. It was my first time to venture into that part of the island at night
We listened to the last minute instructions of the group leader and prepared to rough it out and venture into the darkness to a destination which we had no idea yet.
The silence as we waited for the final countdown before we kicked off was broken only by the splashing of the waves on the shore and the chirping of insects from the bushes.
At the given signal, off we went, looking for the signs along the trail that will lead us to “we don’t know where” yet.
Looking for the small mounds of white flour and white strips of tissue tied to tree branches to guide us was not that easy in the dark, and we got lost and had to retrace our steps several times.
We followed a trail along the beach for a few minutes, but soon the trail forked and led us deeper and deeper into the thick tangan-tangan jungle where we had to crawl under or climb over branches to get through.
My muscle pains from the previous weekend hike did not make things any easier, although the trail we followed was not that challenging.  We emerged from the thicket and followed the road going to Naftan Point for a long time, only to find three mounds of flour on the road which indicated we were following a false trail.
Retracing our steps, and walking for eternity in the moonlit road, we emerged into a clearing and discovered we were already at the Ladder Beach.
For individuals like me whose only form of exercise is climbing up and down the 10 steps of stairs to the office twice a day, walking from Obyan Beach to the Ladder Beach is unthinkable, unless you’re the athletic type who would not hesitate running or cycling around the island anytime.
You may have explored all the nooks and crannies of this small island, but sometimes, you’ve got to rough it out, take the road less taken and make a change from your usual hours to experience a totally different perspective of this island’s beautiful spots.

Excitement from the ledge

HE stood at the edge of the rocky limestone ledge, swinging his arms in a circular motion while I stood unmoving a few meters across the railings, my camera propped on top of a Taga stone-shaped cement, forefinger poised ready to press the shutter.
I swatted a flying insect near the lens when I heard the inevitable splash. I missed my target. The diver surfaced, treading water as he swam toward the shore. Luckily, he went up the stairs again, as well as some boys and a couple of girls. This time I vowed not be diverted by flying insects or anything else.
Watching the swimmers who never seem to get tired of jumping from the ledge, do summersaults and flip flops, and going up the cemented steps and diving again is exhilarating.
A couple of years back, I had the luxury of time to watch the swimmers trying to outdo each other in how high they can jump, how many flips they can do and how fast they can swim back to shore. I got the chance to watch the kids again only last Saturday.
Taga Beach is actually just a small cove of white sandy beach with amazingly clear, blue green waters tucked between limestone cliffs, but the cemented stone paths and the limestone cliff provide kids and adults the perfect site to jump off.
Taga Beach, a popular destination for tourists and a frequent hangout for locals is almost never vacant any time of the day – even under the scorching heat of the noonday sun.
With available facilities including chairs and tables, an outdoor shower, ample parking spaces and cottages, the place is a favorite not only for swimmers but for families and organizations to hold gatherings and events so if you hear music, the clink of glasses, and laughter from afar, you will know a party is in progress.
Oh, and one thing you should not miss at Taga Beach— the superb sunsets. Just don’t go there without a camera or you’ll regret it.

One night on Forbidden Island

THE word “forbidden” kept ringing in my ears as I frantically grabbed footholds and handholds among the sharp, jutting rocks. It was getting dark and I was trying to stop the uncontrollable shaking of my knees and the rising fear that one false step could send me hurtling down the steep cliffs resulting in serious injury, or even my end.

We were on Forbidden Island on the east coast of Saipan, shoes and jeans dripping from the knee-high water we had to wade through to reach it.

I had thought about  visiting the area for the past two years and so there I was, finally. Our group split into two, the more daring ones going up to follow the eagle trail while the others followed the almost equally hard turtle trail set by hashers Dan and Eric.

After an eternity of hardship, the leader who was ahead of us shouted “dead end” and we started the more agonizing trek back.

Forbidden Island provides the daring with a stunning view, great snorkeling nooks, pristine hidden pools and a cave.

But in the falling darkness, it looked eerie, devoid of any form of life save for the bird and a few plants that were able to tough it out.

I looked at Forbidden Island with a new perspective. It’s different when you just look at it from the view deck above than when you explore it and come back with blue, red and violet bruises on your hands, arms and legs, and knowing panic when you see your buddies fall on the sharp rocks and get up with huge bloody gashes on their legs.
The trek to  Forbidden Island is quite challenging and is not for everyone, especially those who are afraid to fall or who have fear of heights.

Going down, you have to hold on to pieces of ropes tied on tree branches or stumps, or grab stones for footholds and handholds which could roll down any minute. You have to find the trail amid tall tangan-tangan and thick bushes.

The dying embers from our bonfire cast an eerie glow as we gathered our things to leave the  area at past 9 p.m.

We still had to survive the upward trail, with only flashlights to guide us back to the parking lot. We left the site with the waves in their seemingly endless race against each other, crashing into the rocky shores.

It’s been six days since then and I still feel the muscle pains, but it was worth it. If you haven’t been to Forbidden Island yet, you’re missing a lot. (This article was first published HERE.