Category Japan

There is something very strange about the way humans approach booze, and how each nation address alcohol both politically and culturally in extremely unique ways. For example, in America we make it illegal for anyone under 21 to buy alcohol. However, when you do reach that age there is a massive party wherein your first introduction to the drink is compounded by the fact that everyone you know comes out to the bar to get you intoxicated. It is a right of passage, a coming of age ritual and a test of one’s man or womanhood. After that fateful night, drinking in America takes on a purely social atmosphere, and no real gathering is complete without it and every gathering with liquor is somewhat more casual because of the addition. Our time in Europe showed the same to be true, though with a bit less of an adherence to drinking ages. Not so elsewhere.

In China, where we’ve spent quite a bit of time, there seems to be no legal age (although officially it is 18-19). You can often find youths drinking at the bars who appear to be quite young. And in fact no one is ever ‘carded’ in China. Contrary to what most people might assume, this does not breed an atmosphere ripe for degradation. Chinese youths hardly ever take their lax drinking rules for granted, nor do they abuse the booze at a young age, as would be expected if we suddenly made the drinking age 18 in the USA. There is, however, a similar ‘right of passage’ for most Chinese males that involves alcohol. At banquets (which are the preferred method of congregation) everyone sits around a round table, and the person of honor goes around the table and does a small glass of beer  or rice wine with every guest. This makes the guest of honor extremely drunk, and this is something to be quite proud of and admired (on special occasions, only). This often prompts Chinese men to approach Mike and ask, “How many beers can you drink?” Which, of course, Mike did not know the answer to at first. Now it appears this is a staple of maleness, though I cannot stress enough that it seems to happen only in large groups. By the way, the Chinese way of saying ‘cheers’ is “gan-bei” which literally means ’empty glass’ or ‘bottoms up.’ which they take literally when drinking beer. Another interesting bit of drinking culture in China– the person of more status should always have their glass slightly higher when clinking it with someone glasses. So, if you are not the guest of honor, your goal is to touch the top of your glass with the bottom of theirs. This results in fun games where people try to show honor to each other by putting their glasses lower. I saw one group of men putting their glasses on the floor to clink them, showing no one was higher than the other. Here is an example from a Chinese TV show:

In Central Asia we found drinking to be somewhat deplorable. Even worse than a man drinking is a woman drinking, and on the rare occasions I ordered a beer in public I could sense eyes judging me. However, we did notice quite a few drunk people on the streets at night, which means it is an underbelly sort of activity reserved for underbelly types. This obviously wasn’t the case in the major cities we visited in Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, but definitely in smaller towns drinking seemed to be a big no-no!

In Mongolia, drinking is a large part of life. We stayed with a family in their ger for three days and nights, and the husband attempted to get us intoxicated on a nightly basis. He would drink after dinner and smoke Pal Mall unfiltered outside his ger as he looked up at the stars. This cowboy lifestyle works well for them and they are extremely happy. Meanwhile, their drinking culture is very inclusive, they pull in everyone and the goal is to have as much fun as possible. There was little segregation because of my gender, and contrary to what I assumed, they welcomed me into their poker game almost immediately. When we left to get on the bus on our final day, our host bought us a round of beers which we all chugged before climbing aboard for a 3 hour ride (big mistake!). Alcohol is used as a social tool to make people happy, include more people into the gathering, and draw everyone into one ger for warmth, entertainment (no TVs out on the steppe) and hours of story telling and card playing.

We’re not experts on these cultures or their drinking habits, but that is what we observed while traveling around from place to place and trying to experience these cultures in the ways they exist when no one is watching.

Vietnam

We conducted an online poll to see where our readers thought we should travel next. 37% of our voters thought we should go to Vietnam. We’re taking their advise and we’ll be heading to Vietnam within the next six months after our Central Asia trip. At 32%, our readers put Cambodia as their second choice for a ‘living vicariously’ travel destination. We’re heading there after Vietnam and will be writing and posting images from both countries within the year. In third place, our readers voted for Japan with 26%. Tsk, tsk inattentive readers, I’ve already been! You can read about the trip and see the pictures from Okinawa. 5% of our readers voted for Laos, which we will travel to while touring South East Asia. Surprisingly, 0% of our readers voted for Korea. While we’d like to visit at some point we are taking our readers silence as a sign, and will visit Korea some other time.

Poll results

Vietnam 37%

Cambodia – 32%

Japan – 26%

Laos – 5%

Korea – 0%

We’ve added new polls to our site and several surveys. Please take a moment to participate and help us A) refine our site, and; B) learn more about our readers, and; C) be more interactive in the travel/dreaming community. We have polls and surveys throughout the site so please click around and vote on a few!

Castle

The next morning we awoke early (late for my brother, who is in the military) and caught the early bus south to the Okinawa tram. The tram was much nicer than subways in China, with padded clean seats, polite rows for boarding and exiting and a very detailed map for navigation. I was impressed. We took the tram east to Shurii Castle, where Okinawan kings had once ruled. The place was large, stone and breathtakingly preserved (read: rebuilt after three massive fires). Signs surrounding the castle read “Beware of Snake!” so we trod softly and snapped pictures with one eye on the ground, the other in the viewfinder.

Inside, we were instructed to take off our shoes and march through a tour of the history of the castle in Japanese- a very impossible task, but the images were telling and we came away with a pictorial story of Okinawan history that was vivid, compelling and all together not Japanese, but an island of it own culture, people, rulers and traditions.

It began to rain so brother bought an umbrella in the gift shop and we began the trek back to the tram. On the way we realized how hungry we were and stopped in an Okinawan shop to eat noodles, sushi and drink tea. After a savory meal, we resumed the adventure and caught the tram to Kokousai Street.

Kokousai Street is littered with statues of famous items like Santa, dinosaurs, power rangers, pineapples and flaming skulls. We wandered around taking pictures with giant anime statues and pepper shaped benches before going down a back alley that blossomed into a giant hidden shoppers paradise. My brother bought me a suit vest (always wanted one!) and we ate sesame seed rolls and strolled about looking at dried snake, dried frog-skin purses and other oddities on sale for gaping tourists.

After several hours of wandering about we returned to the cabin exhausted and with memory cards out of space. We ate chicken noodle soup and went to bed content and quite early, the following morning my sister and I were set to leave Okinawa and return together to Shanghai.  It was sure to be a very sad farewell. I wont write about it, but will say that we managed to find a Taco Bell before the flight took off, and I was as happy as a clam, but sad to be leaving my brother on the tropical paradise all alone.

-posted by Lauren.

After the pineapple park we were worried nothing would be able to keep the trip as elevated as that insane bird-biting adventure had. However, the next morning we woke up, sauntered down to the base grub hall and ate a healthy breakfast of American fried grease and then headed back to the cabin to change into our summer wear. After climbing into our swimsuits we headed down to the beach loaded with Bud’s, books, cameras and Ipods. Instead of finding a nice sandy spot we spotted some cliffs that cut shallow into the waves, and headed over for a look-see.

The water was turbulent, despite the nice weather, and we climbed around on the side of the cliffs looking for caves. We went quite a distance before being forced to turn back by a sheer wall of cement. Rock climbing on a beach shielded from the general public was liberating, and I wondered if anyone had stood on those rocks in years. Probably we were the first in over thirty years.

After we finished spelunking, we headed back to the sand where my sister discovered a live hermit crab, complete with beautiful purple shell, and we set up a little circular rice course of various diameters and took bets on how long it would take the poor crab to get to various areas of the circle. We named him Herbert and I won all bets as I’m more optimistic than most. Meanwhile, sister found another hermit crab (which we named Phil) and we set about digging a massive hole to watch them climb out of– a Colosseum for crabs.

Hours later we grew bored with the crabs and watched them scurry off into the sunset with wild stories to someday tell no one– being hermit crabs I doubt they gather around camp fires to tell war stories of humans abusing them on the beach.

All this time sister and I had been poking around with the silly hermits, brother had been reading and listening to tunes. We joined him until the sun finally set and then headed home for more Hannah Montana UNO and a few more Buds and chips. I had missed American food, and helped devour an entire bag of chips while watching bad American TV. Being around family was amazing, and we joked, played cards and watched silly shows well into the night.

-posted by Lauren.

Herbert

On the third day- we rested.

Evil parrot

The next morning we were itching to get out of the cabin after having watched an entire season of The Office. We found that the most bizarre thing on the island was something called the Naha Pineapple Park. We arrived and new instantly that we would not be disappointed. A whole high school of young girls in plaid mini skirts, skull tattoos and backpacks shaped like teddy bears was just forming a line. We somehow got past them and boarded a golf cart shaped like a giant pineapple. What a thrill.

After the pineapple park we were ushered into the world’s largest sea shell museum. I’ll never scuba dive without a harpoon again.

After yet another overpriced gift shop we walked into the blinding sunlight and then, across the rays of light we saw an amazing sight- a Tropical Jungle Adventure park. After happily paying our entrance fee we skipped around the park petting goats, plucking fruit, catching butterflies and holding parrots. Our sister, at one point, managed to cover herself in evil, angry parrots squawking for sugar water. We fled the scene.

It was an amazing day, and that evening as I picked up my pajamas to get ready for bed, a gecko jumped out of the sleeve and ran through a crack in the wall. Lying wide awake, my sister and I listened to the sounds of the cabin mice as we drifted off to sleep.

-Posted by Lauren.

Oura Wan beach

The first evening my brother and I walked around the beach well into the evening talking and taking pictures. We watched the sunset, then sat under the stars. He humored my amusement with the clean air (something we have very little of in China) and the cleanliness of the streets and beaches. We talked long into the night and finally crashed. The next day we were set to pick up our parents and sister from the airport on the southern tip of the island.

The next morning I awoke to bad news- my parents had missed their flight, but my sister had made hers and would be arriving a few hours later than planned. My brother and I prepped for the change in plans by canceling the rental car and the other cabin rental and then searching the web for Okinawan transportation systems. We found them lacking, cabs were the primary mode of transportation without owning a car (and neither of us had an international license). Meanwhile, cab rides were on par with cab fares in the USA– and on our salaries they were hardly an option. We grabbed a government bus as far south as possible then hopped a cab to pick up the sister. Her flight was delayed, so we stopped at a small restaurant where I had my first taste of local cuisine. A very fishy and rubbery noodle soup that tasted, to my uncultured palate, like a balloon soaked in fish guts. Very healthy.

After waiting until the balloon digested, we set off again to search for the missing sister. Finally we found her- pushing three giant suitcases and bundled in several layers of clothing (presumably what would not fit in the massive cases). After hugs and high fives we began the journey back to the cabins- a full two hours by bus with multiple transfers, and then a twenty minute walk uphill to the cabins– with enough luggage to warrant a minivan. When we finally arrived back at the cabin we collapsed on the couches and did not move for some time.

Because our parents could not make it, they had hastily repacked our sister’s suitcase with gifts, and these we poured around a small Christmas tree I had brought from China. We opened a few gifts that evening– my other sister had sent us UNO, the card game, so we drank Cpt Morgan and Coke and played UNO well into the night.

-Posted by Lauren.

The cab pulled up to the airport at 6:00am. I managed to get the door open and throw a handful of crumpled bills to the driver before puking. He removed my bag from the trunk, tossed me a handful of change and sped off amid a swirl of dust, pollution and freshly splattered vomit.

I left China on a solo flight to Okinawa on the 4th of December, and arrived (thanks to time differences) fifty minutes after I’d left the Middle Kingdom. My stomach had settled on the flight– Shanghai cab drivers are notorious for their shifty driving, and my cab to the airport had been a test to the durability of my stomach lining.

It was freezing when I boarded my plane to the beautiful Japanese island of Okinawa, and when I stepped on to the tarmac at the smallest airport I had ever seen (yes! Smaller then Ghengas Khan Airport in Mongolia!) to a warm bath of sunlight that was over 70 degrees.

I was held in customs for over an hour as they carefully searched every wrapped present, and then re-wrapped them. Having landed safely I was now on vacation, and in no hurry to go anywhere. I sat and chatted with the guards while my bags were searched and they plesently let me leave once they grew bored with my strange array of gifts all wrapped in Chinese newspaper.

Outside I saw a handsome young Marine stepping from a cab and rushed towards my brother. I had not seen him in a year, and in that time he had gone from boy to man as a member of the US military. We jumped back in the cab and were calmly and professionally delivered back to the military base where my brother showed me around his barracks, his base, and then the pool hall and bar.

We chatted, goofed around and easily fell back into the sister-brother relationship. After a while we boarded a bus to another military base where we had reserved a few cabins for our family for the week– directly on Oura Wan beach.  This was my first tropical adventure, the furthest south I’d ever been, the first sandy warm beach I’d ever seen and the first time I’d visited my brother as an adult. It was going to be an amazing trip, and I could tell as we sat on the bus joking around and watching the sun set over the clearest blue/green water I’d ever seen. I’m a long way from the dusty streets of Shanghai now.

-Posted by Lauren.