Back in Miyazaki

DSCF8072, originally uploaded by wwc photos.

A six hour car drive, two planes, a bus, a taxi, trains and subways, my bicycle, another combination of trains and subways, a ferry and I am back in Miyazaki continuing my eventful vacation.

I didn't catch his rank, but soldier Alonzo in Atlanta, waiting to go back to Iraq for the 3rd time was a sweet guy. He said he had always planned to be in the Army for his career but he was tired of getting jerked around, back and forth. I suppose considering his situation wouldn't be supporting any troops. I hope he makes his last 6 months out okay.

The flight to Hawaii I sat next to an Army nurse who made me regret my lack of an actual profession. She was equal parts boring and inspiring. She leaves for Iraq in a few months, but she really want to deliver babies. I hope she does well.

To Waikiki where I was in the hostel next to the one I meant to stay in. Not the quite one with the low-key vibe and the half decent surfboards, but the one like the out of control dorm at a school for people studying English as a second language. I couldn't find Akko. I left to messages at her hotel so I went to the ABC store, my favorite convenience store ever, and got a pasta salad an onigiri and an Asahi. Polished them off and went to bed. I got up early only to be stalled by the morning shift changed and delayed by 30 minutes getting a shitty surfboard covered in foam. Still, 2 hours at Waikiki is 2 hours at Waikiki. Surfing that is, I would rather not be on the beach, unless it is 3am on the jetty with a Brazilian girl from Atlanta. It hit me that one of the great parts about surfing is that, compared to other sports, its legendary sights are accesible. I won't ever be able to play catch at Fenway Park, but I can paddle out to the break where surfing was born, look left at Diamondhead and catch a sweet ass wave through clear water over a reef.

On the way to the airport I run into Akko and her friend who turn out to be on the same plane with me.

I do my shopping and grab a cab to the airport. The driver was Vietnamese and moved here fairly recently. He was quite bright and we talked over politics. He was surprised that I knew Dien Bien Phu. I was surprised that he asked me "Do you believe in God?"

To Japan where, riding on the train, listening to an old man hock luggies into his own mouth and swallow them I swore, "I gotta get out of Japan." The next morning I got up early, rode my bike to the river and went jogging. My neghborhood renewed my faith in the country. Kyoto is lovely. Everday. At the end of my run, a ruckus errupted. 40-60 Uykou busses where caravaning down Kawabata screaming about education. No one ever knows what they are saying. Largely because every bus had its own diatribe.

On the ferry, 40 noisy, shallow, college boys and girls on a club trip to Miyazaki. The only time I am trapped on the ferry with hot chicks and they are trapped with lame dudes.

Now at Natsuki's drinking coffee and contemplating the IPhone.