Japan Roadtrip: Izu Biopark

Setting off for two days of driving, my buddy picked up the rental car and brought it back to his place to gather me. His wife had created a most delicious pack lunch for us, and with car and food in hand, we started off.

Our first stop? Izu biopark. Why? Because it had Kapibera. After a week of hearing about them, and seeing their stuffed representation everywhere, I'd be lying if the excitement to see them hadn't gripped me as well.

It took hours to drive out there, passing all number of terrible toll gates where fees kept increasing as we drove along. The view, however, was beautiful. Driving along the ocean, I was witnessing a very different Japan than the one I had come to expect. I was witnessing a Japan accessible only by car.

Unfortunate, because they make it damn near impossible to ever own one. The fees, and taxes, and other horrible things that compound the purchase make them far too out of reach. Unless they have a yellow license plate, and as such aren't “real cars.” There's more to this, I'm sure, but I don't know the specifics.

All I know is that eventually we reached the biopark.

Before going in we ate the more-than-fantastic pack lunch provided and discussed just how wonderful it was. After it was fully eaten, and instantly missed, we headed into the zoo.

Inside were fifteen types of animals, a whole lot of construction vehicles, a petting zoo, and zombies. I'm fairly sure there were zombies. But we'll get to that.

The animals were a quick pass to see, however it was the petting zoo that captured both our interests. Imagine a six foot three, white man with his head shaved, and a bearded me in a Japanese petting zoo to visit the small rodent that is the Kapibera. We stayed there for nearly an hour.

I'm not going to lie, it was pretty fantastic. The boring giant monsters hung out, trying to escape the touch of people like me, but the bunnies ran rampant. In fact they seemed to enjoy napping on top of the disgruntled kapibera.

All around us they ran, and still other locations offered other toys to play with. Err animals. Animals to play with. You could pick up baby ducks, or pet the guinea pigs. It was at this point that I felt a little guilt for having eaten one only a few months back. They were so terrified and afraid, with only a small feeble shelter to protect them. They were like tribbles who had lost their ability to reproduce in great quantities.

Konichiwa! Konichiwa!

Did that parrot just say hi to me?

Konichiwa! Konichiwa!

It did! A talking Japanese parrot! This was even more impressive than the Toy Story action figures that spoke Japanese. Now it stands to reason that a parrot can mimic any language, which suggests that we could teach them all sorts of fun things to say. They could make parrot cages that are themed for different countries and teach them to speak those words. Maybe even give them little costumes! I know, this wouldn't be so good for the bird but – well, here? A lot of animals were having a rough go of it.

At two we were allowed to feed the kapiberas (thrill upon thrill! How I wish I wasn't serious) and then we headed off to see the chimps. The poor sad chimps clapping their feet and bouncing around, showing clear signs of insanity due to capture. Without warning the animal jumped at the glass wall screaming, throwing its feces at us.

Thank you glass wall.

Then it went to the corner and began rocking back and forth, which it would continue for some time to come.

That was our final animal to see, as they were renovating the park. There was a black bear cage open, as it was being painted. And while I very much wanted a picture of me inside it, I had that little itch of, what if the animal really is there, and it was left open by accident.

I should have taken the picture!

A bridge led away from the animals towards the amusement park. This is where the zombies lived. They must have. There somewhere, just out of sight.

The amusement park was empty. As we walked through it there was no one, and nothing to be seen. Still, the haunting music of a maniacal circus gone wrong, played from every speaker hidden along the paths. In one corner there was a spook house – a mannequin screamed from the upper window, as the door was presented as an evil face, through whose mouth we needed to enter.

This was the type of ghost house from the early years of my life – but with the added terror that there may be something real waiting inside to kill us. This was, after all, Japan.

As it turns out, the creepiest thing was a statue of a naked woman, guts ripped out, eating herself on a table. You know, come to think of it, that is pretty creepy indeed!

Once free from the terror pit, we headed to the abandoned arcade, where I played (terribly) some pachinko. I now have an understanding of what makes the game tick. I'm ready for the big leagues.

From there we walked the go-kart tracks, as there was no one manning them. The only person we saw was the fellow missing a good number of teeth pressing the button to make the monorail go. Or he would, if there were any customers – which there were not.

From the end of the go-kart track we headed along a path with statues of more nude women in a number of poses – art pained primary colours – until we reached a golf course and driving range. There was also a dog run, the air still filled with the terrifying upbeat music.

In my head I plotted the zombie story I hope to write when I no longer have any other pressing business to finish. And with that complete we left the park, and headed off on our way once more.

With most places closing down, we headed to Lake Ashi in Hakone. Why here? Because it was part of Tokyo III where the sixth angel appeared, of course. But never mind me geeking out for a moment, to get there we had to drive through the mountain roads. Tire treads could be seen left in the asphalt along the twists and turns. This was the land of Initial D and though the tiny car had little power, it was still a fun trip down the narrows bends. Mirrors allowed for future-foreseen around the upcoming corners.

At the top of the hill I could just barely make out Mt. Fuji. I could see enough of it to admit that it might be real. It was a line behind the clouds. Though I should have been able to see Fuji a number of times in my trips to Japan, I never have. It is for this reason I claim it does not exist.

After the lake we headed to the hot springs where black eggs with make you live longer. But it was closed. There would be no black eggs or longer life for me. Instead we stopped at an abandoned hotel. After the economic boom a number of fully realized places were simply abandoned, tables still set, beds still made, as if waiting for someone to reopen them and start accepting customers once more.

Finally we found our hotel and broke off to find the night life, or perhaps a karaoke booth. Of course the town we were in was dead, and the last karaoke bar closed at eight at night. I mean, really, who does that? This is Japan – hadn't anyone told them?

The hostess bars were still open – but that didn't seem like a good use of money. Not when I could buy a bottle of Zima that came with a a replica of celebrity lips. Zima does not exist in North America anymore, for good reason. That made me want to at least try it. That it came with creepy false lips? I needed it! Oh Japan, I love you so.

Back at our place we past the time with music from the iPhone, and by learning how to play Gin. That's a card game, to be sure, and that I know how to play it means only one things – I truly am getting old.

Alright, off to sleep. Breakfast in the morning. The last hotel breakfast, back at the Onsen, that I expected to be terrible was quite good. I had no desire to miss this one.

Tokyo III (Hakone)

Fly me to the Moon is inextricably caught in my head.

I took off to Hakone with time enough to spend a good couple of hours there. Stepping off the train my first question was, where can I get that bloody Neon Genesis map?! I went to the tourist office, and the poster of Rei on the door was a good sign. But there was no map inside. I looked around, and found nothing – nothing!

Look, I came all the way out here to get a map, and while I'm sure I'd have loved it anyway, it would feel like a failure without it. I needed that map!

Once the lady trying to figure out that, indeed the bus outside the building was the one she wanted (this concept was just not getting through) I was able to ask the english speaking employee about it.

Well, actually, she pushed the bus lady aside, to help me. How many more times could she really explain – orange bus – you can see it through the window – go now!

When I asked about the mysterious map I had read about, she smiled and fetched me a card. Apparently you had to fill out a card and exchange it for the map. No doubt this is to gather information about how many tourists that aspect is bringing in, and also to keep people from taking a whole stack of them. It's not like that's what I was planning on doing – I just wanted one, just one for me – ok, fine, I wanted a whole stack and was going to take every one they had, but no – I was foiled. That's OK though, I left with my one map and that was all I needed.

It turned out that aside from the main train station most of the sites were far from the city centre. Fair enough, this was still a scouting mission, and I had now seen where I need to return on my next trip here. There are cable cars, and all sorts of other fun ways to get around (in the anime the cable cars all have automatic weapons and serve as a defense system.) For a low price you can get a pass that lets you get all over the area. It would take two days to fully see though, and I only had a couple of hours left. Next time.

With map in hand, and regular tourist map of the area, I headed out to wander the streets. For the most part I saw two things on this day. Two temples, each uniquely juxtaposing one another and bringing modern day Japan into sharp focus.

One was a waterfall temple – two waterfalls bordered the building, and a day spa had been built close by to capitalize on the location. It's hard to picture the area one hundred or more years back, when all there would have been was a path to the falls, and the temple atop a short hill. One can try and picture the terrine, but it's nearly impossible as the falls have been manicured to best suit the visitors of the spa/onsen.

This is Japan today.

The other temple took me up into the hills. On my map it did not seem quite so far off the path, and had I known just how long it would take, I would probably have ignored it completely. But I was ignorant, and all the better for it.

Walking up some stone steps, I found myself on a path leading ever upwards, wondering when I would reach the top. Although at this point I didn't know if there would be a top, nor that there was a temple located there. I was simply climbing stone steps into the moss-grown forest, assuming that something must lay ahead. The path had to lead somewhere.

Every landing presented me with a number of small tombstones, and wooden planks engraved with text undecipherable to me. Ever upwards I wandered as the shadows closed in around me, and blocked all vision – all sound – except for that which was immediately before me.

At that moment I was travelling again. I loved travelling with a large group, but there was no off the path. I doubt may of them would have wanted to turn down this side journey. In fact I doubt I would have followed had one of them suggested it. So communal were our travels, so social, that it was hard to appreciate why one would want the sanctity of something cutting one off from the surroundings.

the path was lined with small statues, glad in red knitwear. I know not what they were for, nor how long they had been there. All I knew is that I was walking up, ever upwards.

Losing myself in the experience I was both shocked, and relieved, when finally the end was before me. Silently I had cursed my desire to explore, spending twenty minutes climbing higher and higher. But then, there was the end. A temple before me. And one lone cherry blossom tree. These would be the last blossoms I saw in Japan, and they stand out in my mind, perhaps more so after the climb, than had I just found them with ease.

The temple, as I drew close, was a lonely one, with one man sitting inside. I peeked in, but then quickly left. This wasn't about the destination. This was about the journey to the top , and then back down once more. This was exploring, and travelling, and being alone with your thoughts.

No, it was not isolated by days of trails from the quote unquote real world, but it was a momentary escape. And I saw no one else from the time I started the climb, passing a group just headed down, until I reached the bottom once more, as another group started going up.

The walk down took as long as the walk up, but every step held meaning, a value of sorts. Once more I had found my way and I loved it. That moment, never to be repeated, filled me with the type of warmth I experienced wandering through Akiba with my friends from back home. I did not think it could be topped. And it wasn't – but this? It was something as equally wonderful. And I thought about how I'd like to share it with others – but could it have been shared, or was the experience in going at it alone?

Just letting someone know there is an end point, or pointing the location out to them – would that take away some of the beauty?

Every now and then it's worth taking the stone steps leading up into the forested hills.

And this? This is the old Japan.