July 29th, 2008: "Hakone"

Another town, another display of how cultural and historic Odawara was, began with Eriko accompanying me, Chris, and Haruka to the Odawara Station JR. We met Jason, Kelsey, and Risa, along with half the OIFA membership, at the station, and climbed onto the Hakone Tozan Bus to head to Hakone.

Hakone, a sector known for its museums, bayfront pirate ships, and sulfur-spewing mountains, was our destination and we arrived at the front of the Narukawa Museum, a large red traditional Japanese post greeting our arrival. We were behind schedule, so we hopped onto escalators embedded in the hillside, man-made machinery contrasting the natural foliage of the surrounding woods. When we reached the top, a photo session commenced before heading into the museum.

The Narukawa Museum was small, but very clean, like any other building in Japan thus far. We browsed through the first floor filled with hand-blown dishes, colorful and unique, alongside paintings, artistic kaleidoscopes, and unusual glass lamps. Kelsey, Chris, and I explored the second floor to find paintings worth more than $500 million dollars just hanging nonchalantly on the immaculate walls of the museum.

One painting, by Kaiyama Natasou, caught my attention, and I quickly investigated its artistic medium. Most of the paintings were done in a pigment mixed with water and gave an appearance of thick watercolor paint. Kelsey, an avid painter and artist, was mystified by the art pieces, and went on to take picture of every single work of interest.

Chris and I bought souvenirs before we left the building, hurriedly trying to catch the 2-minute delay in schedule. Apparently, being behind by even one minute was largely treated as a major flaw in design.

We all but jogged down the hill, across a busy street and into the line awaiting for the next pirate ship to tour the beautiful bay. While in line, Kelsey proceeded to teach the other Japanese teens within earshot the American baseball theme. “Take me out to the ball game. Take me out to the crowd…” Our voices rang out in the low murmur of the other waiting participants, and some laughed at Kelsey’s outrageous arm gestures as she explained points concerning the American lyrics. I simply looked on and tried to avoid any more embarrassing stares, but of course, it’s hard for a black person to blend into any crowd of untanned Japanese people.

The large pirate ship anchored next to the pier and we climbed in, following a large procession of Japanese tourists to the deck of the ship. I admired the view as the ship pulled away from the empty pier. I talked to Shoko-san briefly, soon learning that she never visited America before. Her smile made me wish I was rich so I could book her on the next flight to California.

Kelsey, Jason, and Chris posted themselves in front of the canon at the front of the ship. A photo shoot of odds and ends began, with me directing half of it, while other tourists took pictures of our shenanigans. The pirate ship turned around, and I admired the scenery.

Unlike California’s murky bayfront areas, Odawara’s bayfront was quite breath-taking. The lush green forests dominated most of the view, mountains and hills of emerald hiding the sparingly present buildings buried into its hillside. The buildings stood out, most of which held a light beige color or brown color, while the blue sky, cloudy from ominous rain clouds, kissed the earth beneath it, shielding our view of Mount Fuji. The water beneath us was a deep blue-green, and as we sailed back into the pier, fisherman on their small boats littered parts of the water.

We made our way through the crowd to a ropeway and cable car. The cable car, moved along wheels turning together like gears, moved us over the mountain side slowly. We played 5 fingers to kill time before we landed in Owakudani, a popular point at the top of the mountain known for its hot spring boiled eggs. I refused the eggs (because I don’t like boiled or raw eggs) and turned my attention to drawing the scene overlooking the egg site. I finished my quick ink sketch in time to follow everyone down a winding path to the souvenir shops. I bought my mom a Japanese doll that I thought she would like.

My father, when he was still in the Navy, bought my mom some now-endangered geisha dolls when he visited Japan. Though they are divorced, my mother still lugs them around every time we move. It cost ¥2,200, roughly $21, to purchase and I spent most of the time carrying it on my wrist.

We took the cable car to Koen-kami, a small area where the Hakone Museum sat. We ate lunch before entering the free museum. Our tour guide spoke very good English and he walked us past the Japanese gardens filled with 150 different types of moss, including the water moss, which grew randomly at the museum.

“The International Moss Society,” our white-haired guide explained, “said that the water moss grows at the side of water, and yet, it grows in our gardens.” We followed him to a tea room, where we were greeted by a kimono-clad non-Japanese woman. We learned that the hostess was from Brazil, and she spoke Portuguese, Japanese, and some Spanish. She prepared green tea for us in the traditional way, and I drew her form as she served us. She looked at my picture.

“Sugoi!” she gasped, and her and everyone else marveled at the ink picture I drew in a matter of minutes. I wanted to give her the picture, but I drew it in the intention of sharing it with everyone. We left the tea room, and followed our guide through the rest of the museum.

He bade us goodbye and we took a bus to the Venetian Glass Museum. The sky thundered as we entered the eloquent museum entrance and rain glistened the slick cobblestone walkways. The hosts gave us umbrellas and we led a small procession to the glass-walled café. There, we dined on coffee and angel cake with crème before an Italian singer and his pianist sang to us. We joined him on the tiny stage and took pictures until the rain stopped.

The Venetian Glass Museum, known for its brilliant host of glass blowing, held many types of rings, from rings from Mary Antionette (France) to Presidnet Eisenhower and his wife. I felt a bit under the weather and secluded myself to recuperate. We took a few pictures before traveling down the road to a bus stop.

The bus, packed with people, somehow crammed us onto the small bus, and we held on for dear life as it winded down sharp turns and narrow pathways. Slowly, the bus emptied, and I sat down to doze off the sickness I felt swirling in my head. The lightheaded feeling didn’t dissipate, and I had to take a short nap before refusing half my dinner. Soon after, I fell into an exhausted sleep.