It's generally known that the Japanese are very fond of bathing. In fact, they are SO fond of spending time soaking in hot water that a trip to an onsen (natural hot spring) resort is treated with almost the furvor of a religious pilgrimage.
      Since it is currently spring vacation and between school years, I was kind of hoping that I and my family would be able to take some kind of trip. However, when Kiharu informed me just over a week ago that we were going to be going up to an onsen resort in the mountains of Fukushima prefecture together with her parents,well, I was a bit skeptical. After all, my relationship with the in-laws (as most of you are probably painfully aware) hasn't really been all the good of late.
      To be tactlessly blunt, the thought of spending a weekend being yanked around on my father-in-law's leash while watching the both of them make total asses of themselves with my two-year-old daughter, Mao, sounded about as much fun as a root canal. But since it was the only real chance of "getting out" that I had this spring vacation, not to mention the fact that an onsen visit had a certain appeal to it, I decided to go with it with as much grace as I could muster.

      And so.......THE TRIP

PART ONE: DEPARTURE

      And so the trip begins. As requested, Kiharu, Mao, and I are up, dressed, packed, breakfasted, and ready to go at precisely 8:30. As expected, by the time the in-laws finish all their inevitable sudden, last-minute concerns and actually get in the car themselves it's already 9:45.
       My father-in-law has an incredible passion for bargains. He absolutely cannot pass one up even if there's really no point in it. (In 1994, when they were staying in a cabin at Bayshore, Waldport, he bought a new bottle of jam at the supermarket every day "because it's cheaper than Japan".) No sooner do we get a kilometer or two down the road than he pops into a bakery and buys a bunch of cakes "because they're cheap here". A few more kilometers down the road, even though he is only a couple of gallons shy of a full tank, he pulls into a gas station "because it's cheap here". As soon as we get onto the freeway he pulls off at the first rest stop, two kilometers from the freeway entrance, because they serve free tea.
       I'm already getting irritated and the trip has only lasted about half an hour.
       Finally we're really on our way. The posted speed limit is 100 kilometers per hour (about 63 m.p.h.), average traffic speed is about 110 - 120 k.p.h. (70 - 80 m.p.h.). So naturally, Kiharu's father spends most of the time at 90 k.p.h. (55 m.p.h.). I look at the bright side: once we get into the mountains of northern Ibaraki the scenery is gorgeous, and at a slower speed I get to enjoy it a little longer.
       We go through several miles of back-to-back tunnels. Since the mountains are all volcanic and relatively young (geologically speaking) they are extremely jagged. There are lots of really bizarre shapes. Lots of deep valleys that are only about a hundred yards wide.
       It's amazing how different Fukushima feels from Ibaraki even though they are adjacent and have similar cultures. For one thing, the drivers seem to be a lot more polite and a lot less stupid on average than on our side of the border. It's also a lot colder. It isn't long before we find snow.
       Eventually, even though they have spent the last three hours snacking and drinking tea non-stop, the in-laws decide it's time to stop for lunch at a particular rest area "where the soba noodles are cheap".
       The Hatakeyama-Miyauchi family must have incredibly fast metabolisms. All they ever do is eat, it seems, but noone is fat. Their appetites leave mine hopelessly rolling in the dust. I tell them I'm not hungry and they look totally baffled. How can ANYONE not be hungry???
       So we stop at the rest area. Here I get a good chance to observe just how differently Mao behaves with her grandparents than with her parents. Only yesterday Kiharu and I went out for dinner together with Mao and she ate her entire meal all by herself with only a little prodding. Here at the rest area, with grandma and grandpa nearby, she just sits and vehemently demands to be spoon fed. (And despite my protests, grandpa happily obliges.) And after a few bites of her own meal she demands to be given grandfather's food. (Again, despite my protests, he happily obliges.)
       Earlier, dad-in-law lectured Kiharu and me about how we shoudln't make Mao cry in a public place because it's embarrassing. I don't know. I think I find the in-laws' loudly cheering every time Mao takes a single bite and noisily fussing over her every move even more idiotic. And the large number of dirty looks we're getting from the people around us shows that most people would agree with me.
       Kiharu and I finally intervene, whereupon Mao starts crying in an extremely loud, high-pitched, baby-like wail that neither Kiharu nor I have heard from her in over a year. I guess when she's with us she acts like a typical two-year-old, but with the grandparents she's still fixated at 8 months. And they seem only too happy to encourage her. When we tell them that Mao eats her meals all by herself when she's with us dad-in-law firmly denies it.
       "No. She's too young. She CAN'T feed herself," he says in his "shut up and obey your elders" tone.
       I respond by telling Mao that she can't have the toy the waitress has given her until she finishes. So she picks up her fork and proceeds to eat the rest of her lunch by herself (with Kiharu repeatedly batting away grandpa's chopsticks). Grandma and grandpa are shocked. Their loud cheering attracts the attention of the entire clientele of the restaurant.
       It's gonna be a loooooonnnnnnnnggggggggg trip....

PART TWO: HIDEO NOGUCHI

       Mt. Bandai. About a hundred years ago it blew up in a manner uncannily similar to Mt. St. Helens. (In fact, in its museum there's an impressive Mt. St. Helens exhibit to that effect.) In the summer of 1990 I climbed it. There was no snow on it then. Now it's covered with white. The whole atmosphere is completely different.
       We arrive at Inawashiro village at the foot of the mountain. It's the home town of Hideo Noguchi, one of Japan's historical heroes. He's one of the few that was neither a great warrior or great artist. He was a great scientist.
       As a baby Hideo Noguchi fell into a firepit and wound up with a crippled hand as a result. As he grew older, he dedicated himself to his studies. In junior high school her was often asked to serve as a substitute teacher. However, his crippled hand was always a tremendous burden for him. As deformities have always been seen traditionally in Japan as "impure" and therefore to be avoided, he endured a lot of discrimination and bullying. But he still graduated at the top of his class.
       One of Hideo's teachers, Setei (sp?) Kobayashi, read one of his compositions in which he expressed his frustration about his handicap. He took it upon himself to track down a surgeon who could correct the crippled hand. One was found, and Hideo was cured. Owing a deep debt of gratitude, Hideo decided to become a doctor himself. To make an already long story a little shorter, he became a doctor of much acclaim, and at the turn of the century he came to work for the Rockefeller Institute.
       Dr. Noguchi dedicated himself to the search for the cause and cure of yellow fever. His endless research efforts took him through South America and finally Africa. In the end, he wound up dying of yellow fever himself without actually finding the cure, but his work was crucial to the breakthrough discoveries made by his colleagues only a short time later. Had he lived just one or two more months he would have had the answers himself. This much is certain.
       The Hideo Noguchi museum in Inawashiro is interesting. Not only does it have all kinds of memoirs and items from his life. It has his actual birth home in it. They simply built the museum building around and over it. Wow.
       Just across the street is the International House of Glass, which is a HUGE market of...three guesses...glasswork from all over the world. The building itself is large and built in Bavarian fashion. It's absolutely beautiful....and often very expensive. Kiharu and I spend a bit of time rubbernecking and drooling before the in-laws start whining that they want to get on their way again. But we want to take a quick look in the glass art museum and I want to take at least a quick peek in the brewpub(!), so dad-in-law pops into a nearby confectionary shop to have some cake and tea (sigh....).
       By the time we leave it's FREEZING, there's a strong wind blowing, and it's snowing hard. But we're all feeling good. (And I have a liter bottle of craft ale!)

PART THREE: THE ONSEN

       Kiharu's father has a standing rule: always ask directions. Even if there's a huge sign in plain sight telling which way to go, he still stops (blocking traffic on major thoroughfares) to ask hapless passersby for assistance. He gets laughed at several times and honked at even more before we finally pull into the hotel.
       Kiharu had warned me in advance that, in their classic style, her parents had booked us into the cheapest hotel in the onsen area they could find. Most likely it wouldn't be very good. However, if this hotel is cheap and not good, I'd probably go nuts in a better place! This is nice!
       Mao, unfortunately, has been rudely awakened from her highness' peaceful afternoon repose by our untimely arrival, and she declares war on the world. She fusses a bit until she hears grandma's voice, whereupon she quickly switches modes and starts the loud, wailing infant cry we had heard at the lunch stop.
       We are met at the hotel by a cousin of Kiharu's on her father's side whom I haven't met yet. Apparently her family lives not too far away, so she and her 5-year-old daughter have stopped by to visit. Her daughter has brought a nice gift for Mao and tries to get acquainted, but her majesty is still punishing the world for its insolence. When we retire to a room to chat (and eat still more snacks......) Mao plants herself in the corner and pouts. No amount of coaxing will bring her out, so I suggest we simply ignore her. Oh, my. That'll never do.
       Eventually Mao's curiosity (and sheer two-year-old greed) brings her to accept her gift, and she quickly decides that her cousin is the greatest thing in the world. The two of them have a grand old time playing while the rest of us....eat.....
       Then the relatives leave us, and it's time for....dinner. And dinner is........huge. And wonderful. And I'm having to cram it into my snack-filled belly. Nothing new here.
       After dinner I sneak off down to the onsen bathing room expecting it to be packed. Onsens are ALWAYS packed. However..... This time the seven gods of fortune seem to be smiling on me, for I come in just as the last few people are leaving. I have the whole thing to myself (until dad-in-law shows up, but he doesn't stare at me like other people tend to do).
       The water is hot, but not unbearable, and it is so laden with minerals that it looks like very thin milk. I climb in and just let go of everything for the better part of three minutes. Good thing I don't have heart trouble.... After I climb out I feel like I've gulped a liter from the Fountain of Youth.
       The in-laws were thoughtful enough to book Kiharu, Mao, and I into our own room, and ours is much better than theirs. Not only is it bigger, but it has its own sink and bathroom. We settle down for a very relaxing evening.
       (And I make it even more relaxed by enjoying a nifty discovery: Asahi Brewery makes a special beer just for this area, and it's a good one. Why the Sam Hill don't they make a Kashima beer, considering the brewery is in Ibaraki??!?)
       G'NIGHT!!!!!
       (Stop dancing and go to sleep, Mao.....)

PART FOUR: DAY TWO

       Breakfast service starts at 7:30 a.m., and the in-laws tell us not to be late. So we arrive at exactly 7:30. And naturally, Kiharu's folks show up a little after 8:00. And after they show up Mao's behavior immediately becomes a hundred times worse.
       We eat, pack up, check out, and leave.
       First stop: a nearby buddhist temple created by a famous 17th century poet in honor of a samurai hero of the 10th century. We arrive to find half of the place under construction and the gates not quite open yet (it is only 5 minutes after opening time).
       Kiharu's father is sneaky. Several years ago he created a phantom travel agency at his own house. Sometimes he actually arranges trips for friends and relatives, but the real reason he did it was to get The License and The Badge. The Tour Guide License and The Tour Guide Badge allow him to get into most attractions for free.
       Read "most attractions".
       The guy at the entrance to the temple grounds gives him a "yeah, right" look and calmly informs him that he'll have to pay the same fee as the rest of us. He takes it in perfect grace: he puts his nose in the air and tells the rest of us that he's not going in. So we leave him pouting at the gate and go in. Later, we return to find that he has brought the car around (ignoring the Authorized Personnel Only sign) and parked it just inside the gate (ignoring the No Parking Except Construction Vehicles sign as well as a couple of construction vehicles with annoyed-looking drivers whose path he has blocked). We get into the car while he goes out for a quick look-see and a few photos (making the poor construction workers wait a bit more).
       When we finally pull out we leave a lot of very dirty looks in our wake.
       Next Kiharu's father says he's going to take us to a museum for a famous local turn-of-the-century artist/writer. He says its right nearby.
       After going all over the city he starts asking me where to turn. Then he finally admits that he has no idea whatever where the thing is. So we stop and ask directions at a Toys R Us. It turns out that it's at a neighboring town a good half hour's drive away. But we have nothing better to do, so we go.
       She is known simply as "Chieko". Her grandfather owned a sake brewery in the late 1800s. However, after he died it went bankrupt and her family had to sell off virtually all its property. This left Chieko suffering from depression and schizophrenia. Already a gifted artist and writer from her childhood, her illness only seemed to serve her. And her subsequent marriage to a famous sculptor who loved her dearly and treated her very well up till her death in the 1930s didn't hurt, either.
       Most of the museum is her childhood home, i.e. her grandfather's home/brewery/business. It was purchased by the town and resored in 1990, and now houses much of the original furnishings. Life in turn-of-the-century Japan, when the feudal system had only just been replaced by a more western-style monarchy/parliamentary system headed up by the Emperor. There's a fancy, European-style clock on the wall, but the cooking is done in a little pit in the floor. The sink is a trough set only about a half a foot off the floor. There's a fancy writing desk with drawers, and inkwell, and blotters, but it sits right on the floor.
       I think Japanese of antiquity spent virtually their entire lives indoors on their knees.
       Anyway, I have a nice little history and art lesson before we head off for lunch at another "really cheap" place in the area (my dad-in-law is truly amazing in this department) and put up with yet another Mao-and-the-indulgent-grandparents episode before we finally head off on our way home.
       At the first rest stop Kiharu's father hands me the keys and asks me to drive the rest of the way on the freeway. I happily oblige. While everyone quietly snoozes around me, I burn rubber all the way back to Ibaraki. Actually, I pace the car in front of me the whole time. And once we cross the border into Ibaraki again the average traffic speed jumps exponentially, so I follow suit. When everyone wakes up I've already come to the last scheduled rest stop a good twenty minutes ahead of time.
       After pop-in-law takes the wheel again and we head into the backroads once more Mao throws a surprising tantrum and winds up battling with her mom. Grandma is trying to lecture Mao, but she's paying no attention whatever. Mom, on the other hand, is being stubborn. And firm. Mao winds up doing her ear-piercing baby shriek again.
       "Stop it!" commands grandpa from the driver's seat. "NEVER make her cry! That's not education! That's stupidity!"
       "You know, it's funny," I remark quietly. "When Mao is with Kiharu and I she NEVER cries like that. She HAS never cried like that. She doesn't ACT like that. She HAS never acted like that. And moreover, she usually acts at least a year older than she did this entire trip. I wonder why that is."
       Dead silence. Then grandpa laughs and says, "I guess grandma and I are just always kind to her."
       We stop in at a (very cheap) restaurant for dinner. In the next stall there is an extended family. The two little kids are running around screaming and doing everything but eat their dinner. The grandparents are smiling, laughing, and urging them on. The parents look totally defeated. I guess it's a Japanese tradition.
       Home at last. Back to a whole new grind in a few more days. Another adventure is over.


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