2014...as it relates to 2015

The Akashic Records. Okay, no, not really. It's actually Trinity College in Dublin, Ireland. (Photo courtesy of navitascoach.com)

Once again it's time for my customary look back at the previous year, and a peek ahead at what's to come next year. Without further ado, here's a list of the things I accomplished in 2014: 

•  brewed a bunch of beers with the guys, including a lip-smackin' ginger IPA
•  completed The Art of Manliness's 30 Days to a Better Man challenge (January)
•  submitted a query, along with 10 pages of my manuscript, to Ace & Roc Science Fiction & Fantasy in January; sent in the full manuscript in August; rejected in October
•  took a trip to Sapporo, Hokkaido in February
•  rode the train through all the way through Japan (took a full day and then some) 
•  said farewell to Adam in Busan
•  moved to Gangnam-gu in March
•  got my appendix out in May
•  sent my full manuscript to Baen Books in June; rejected in December
•  traveled through Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, and Hong Kong from July 12 to August 7
•  took the Reunification Express through Vietnam, from Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City
•  ate lo mai gai, bun cha, banh mi, and pigeon-heart pho in Vietnam
•  traveled across Cambodia by bus, and ate khmer amok and beef loklak
•  drank cocktails at the top of Bangkok's tallest building and watched a thunderstorm
•  took the train from Bangkok to Butterworth, and hung around in the Hong Kong Bar on Penang Island, drinking cheap Tiger beers and talking to Chinese, Brits, Russians, and Brazilians 
•  rode a miserable bus through Malaysia
•  spent a hot, humid, overpriced weekend in Singapore drinking eponymous slings and riding open-top buses (and the Flyer)
•  met up with Miss H in Hong Kong and spent four lovely days there, eating Hokkaido ramen and Moroccan lamb and MSG-laden Cantonese and English beer (and going to Disneyland)
•  saw Miss H go back home before me in September
•  moved into a oneroomtel in Gwangjin-gu that same month
•  finished reading Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina in November
•  read The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, Catch-22 by Joseph Heller, Dhalgren by Samuel R. Delany, Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, The Terror by Dan Simmons, Ghost Train to the Eastern Star and Kowloon Tong by Paul Theroux, Consider Phlebas by Iain M. Banks, Rendezvous with Rama by Arthur C. Clarke, The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, The Korean War: A History by Bruce Cumings, Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad, Dune by Frank Herbert, The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut, The Book of Wonder by Lord Dunsany, and some other stuff
•  found the best burger in Seoul (at Bartwo, a beer-and-burger pub in Oksu-dong)
•  ...and the best Mexican in Seoul (Gusto Taco, near Sangsu Station in the Hongdae area)
•  tasted seolleongtang, makchang (large beef intestines), fermented soybean paste, hoe deopbap (raw fish over rice), chicken bulgogi, shrimp gimbap, and barbecued ox hearts
•  ate at the Casablanca Sandwicherie in Itaewon (lamb chili sandwich and a Berber omelette, yum!)
•  completed the shooter challenge at Gecko's Terrace in Itaewon, and now have my name inscribed on a brass plaque above the bar with the following motto: Bibo Ergo Sum
•  discovered Jack White, The White Stripes, Jeff Buckley, Sky Sailing, Cage the Elephant, Thelonius Monk, John Coltrane, and Miles Davis
•  took up pipe-smoking and honed my appreciation for good pipe tobacco (with a nip of bourbon or rye)
•  completed another NaNoWriMo and took my first steps toward becoming a paperless writer 
• started two new novels and abandoned a third
•  submitted ten short science fiction stories to Clarkesworld, Analog Science Fiction & Fact, Asimov's Science Fiction, Space Squid, Daily Science Fiction, 3LBE, and Fiction Vortex (all rejected)
•  joined Twitter (11 followers so far!) and revamped my blog and Google Plus pages (to build my writer's platform)
•  added some delicious dishes to my cooking and baking repertoire, such as chicken piccata, vegetarian lasagna, penne pasta with vodka sauce, New York cheesecake, and stuffed bell peppers
•  wrote and submitted pieces to ElectRow magazine
•  went to the HBC Festival and drank beer and ate doner kebab
•  rode my bike all the way to Gwacheon 
•  walked from Gwangjin-gu to Itaewon 
•  walked 10 miles in one day 
•  went to the Leeum Samsung Museum of Art
•  hiked Achasan and Yongmasan
•  hiked Namhansanseong, the ninth of Korea's UNESCO World Heritage sites I've seen (out of 11 total)
•  tried the hamburgers at Fire Bell, Libertine, and Left Coast
•  visited the doctor about some heart palpitations, and started taking magnesium supplements for excessive stress
• on a related note, I lost 20 pounds between August and December
• visited a buddy in Gunsan, North Jeolla (and rode first class on the KTX back to Seoul)
•  planned a wedding in April 2015 (my own!)
•  scored an interview with a tech start-up in Las Vegas 
•  made dozens of new friends in seven countries
•  finished my final semester at Sejong University
•  prepared to depart Korea on January 7, 2015

And here's what I hope for 2015: a job in January, a wedding with the love of my life in April, a wedding in England (congratulations, Jeff & Jenn!) in July, Wasteland Weekend in September, a literary agent by December, and burning off the rest of my gut at the gym. And keeping it off. Twenty pounds gone already, as you saw above.

Postie out. 

Hong Kong, day three

As of Tuesday, August 5, I'd built up an impressive store of alcohol in Room 2504 of the ibis North Point Hotel. I nabbed a small bottle of White Horse blended Scotch the first night, and there was a bottle of Gambler's Gold (the Hong Kong Brewing Company's golden ale) and some Magners cider in our mini-fridge also.

I was sitting pretty.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

We awoke quite late and had a languorous breakfast at the hotel buffet: Danishes, toast, noodles, baked beans, runny scrambled eggs, hard-boiled eggs, sausage, pancakes, bacon, potatoes, fruit, yogurt, congee (rice porridge), cereal, tea, coffee, orange juice...everything but blood pudding. Miss H and I had were pigging out on it every morning. It cost about HK$66 ($8 US), so we had to get our money's worth. 

We were foiled in most our plans today. We wanted to ride the cable car or trolley or whatever up to Victoria Peak, but last night Jeff had warned me that it would be crowded as hell up there, and the lines would be ridiculous. We thought next of taking the open-top bus tour, but upon arriving at the terminus at Central Piers we discovered that it cost HK$400—fifty U.S. dollars a pop. No way, Jose. We briefly considered the Star Ferry harbor tour, but that was eighty-three U.S. dollars. Rather dejected, we went back to the hotel to regroup. I polished off the cider and the Scotch and felt mighty fine.  

We dined at 6:00 p.m. at a marvelous little Sapporo ramen restaurant a couple of doors down from the hotel. For just a couple hundred HK dollars we had dumplings, beef tongue, tonkatsu curry with rice (Miss H), and a big heaping bowl of Hokkaido ramen with pork (me). Great guns—I'd heard Hokkaido ramen and its light brown miso-laden broth was the shiz, but but the reality blew me away. Best ramen these lips have been privileged to taste. Can't wait to get back to Sapporo and have the real deal.  

Not my photo.

To keep the Japanese theme going, Miss H and I boarded the streetcar and rode to Burrows Street to visit the Hokkaido Dairy Farm "Milk Restaurant." Not sure what their gimmick was—I guess all their dairy products came from Hokkaido, and all their food was cooked with it. I'd read that Hokkaido ice cream was a delicacy in Hong Kong, and unlike most "delicacies" which interest me, this was something Miss H could sample too. We had a vanilla sundae with chocolate and adzuki bean sauce—superb. 

For kicks, we stepped across the road and into the Wellcome supermarket to get a look at what Hong Kongers mow down on. There was a staggering array of western foods, including Cadbury's chocolate—nearly impossible to find in other Asian countries and nonexistent in Korea, much to all my English friends' chagrin. I bought one of the Cadbury's bars, a Double Decker bar ('cause I'd never tried one), and a bottle of Laoshan, Tsingtao's upscale brand.

Then we rode the tramway home, dumped everything in our room (and I drank my Gambler's Gold), and went back out and around the corner to a gaming arcade we'd spotted on the second floor of a high-rise. We played at racing games and basketball tosses and a couple of rail shooters, burning through HK$35 in an hour. Then we came home, showered, and collapsed into bed. A fantastic thunderstorm hit just as we turned out the lights, and we laid there, tangled up with each other, watching the flashes and counting the seconds, until we drifted off to sleep.  

big trouble in little Thailand

Paul Theroux was right. We have a tendency to judge every place we go by whether we could stand living there or not. There are few places on my list, believe it or not. One of them, beyond a shadow of a doubt, is Sapporo, Japan. Fascinating spot. Beautiful in summer (I hear) and absolutely enchanting in winter. I finally found a place that gets the epic, biblical, phantasmagorical amounts of snow that everybody who lives in a wintry place always brags about to newcomers and out-of-towners. Something to do with the moist winds from Siberia meeting the frigid Sea of Okhotsk...or the frigid winds from Siberia meeting the moist Sea of Okhotsk, or something. I dunno. But it's a pretty town in a pretty valley with pretty mountains and pretty dang fun to spend a few days in, the more I think back on it. I sure wish I could live there for a year (at least) and get to the bottom of its charms. 

...not to mention all the world-class sushi, beer, and venison I'd consume, or the skiing I'd do, or the ban'ei events I'd watch, or all the Russia I could see from my house. 

Anyway, I find that Hokkaido and its legendary snows are crossing my mind more and more as the Korean weather heats up. It's getting warm and muggy out there. Every day I step outside my door, give my best Charlton Heston squint, and then walk to the subway through a hot, bright, hazy city that would do the film Soylent Green proud.

I can only imagine how it's going to be in Southeast Asia as I trip through Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore and Hong Kong during the peak of summer. 

Well...maybe not Thailand. 

Have you been keeping track of what's going on down there? 

Source: The Times. 

That's right, it's a military coup. Another one. Thailand seems to have a yen for coups. The last one was in 2006, I believe. I'll spare you all the details, because that shit is readily available online, including the link under that picture of all them stern-lookin' Thai military dudes up there. You can get the rundown from somebody else. All I want you to do is sit right there in that chair and listen to my First World Problems. 

Did they have to have a bloody coup in Thailand just two months before I'm slated to travel by train through it?  

I think it's about time I shared with you the itinerary for this big Southeast Asia train trip I've been yapping about for weeks. It'll make this bitchfest easier. Plus it'll make my mum quit worrying about exactly when and where I'll be. So here you go:

 Saturday, 7/12: Gimpo to Shanghai by plane (there to spend the night partying)

 Sunday, 7/13: Shanghai - Kunming - Nanning - Hanoi by plane

 Monday, 7/14: explore Hanoi, catch the 11:00 p.m. night train to Ho Chi Minh City

 Tuesday, 7/15: slow train through Vietnam (pass Huế at 10:30 a.m.)

 Wednesday, 7/16: arrive in Ho Chi Minh City at 4:30 p.m. 

 Thursday, 7/17: HCMC

 Friday, 7/18: HCMC

 Saturday, 7/19: HCMC to Phnom Penh by bus

 Sunday, 7/20: Phnom Penh

 Monday, 7/21: Phnom Penh to Siem Reap by speedboat

 Tuesday, 7/22: Angkor Wat

 Wednesday, 7/23: Siem Reap to Paoy Paet by bus (Cambodian-Thai border); Aranyaprathet to Bangkok by train

 Thursday, 7/24: Bangkok 

 Friday, 7/25: Bangkok

 Saturday, 7/26: Bangkok

 Sunday, 7/27: Bangkok to Butterworth by night train

 Monday, 7/28: arrive in Butterworth; ferry to Penang; explore George Town

 Tuesday, 7/29: George Town

 Wednesday, 7/30: Butterworth to Singapore (train departs 8:00 a.m., arrives same day)

 Thursday, 7/31: Singapore

 Friday, 8/1: Singapore 

 Saturday, 8/2: fly to Hong Kong at 1:30 a.m. 

 Saturday, 8/2 - Thursday, 8/7: Hong Kong with Miss H

I planned this minutely. The timing has to be just right. It's a journey of nearly 9,000 kilometers, and I have social engagements in Ho Chi Minh City and Hong Kong which I need to arrive on time for. I haven't reserved my train tickets yet, but a few days ago—before the news of the coup broke, back when this was all just a bunch of Thais in red shirts rioting—I finished booking my hotels. All of them. Even the one in Bangkok. Argh.

I don't know what to do now. Should I cancel my hotel reservation in Bangkok and reserve a flight ticket from Cambodia to Malaysia? Fly from Phnom Penh to Kuala Lumpur, take the train north to Butterworth and do my Penang thang, and then go back down to Singapore by train and meet Miss H in Hong Kong for her week-long summer vacation? Or do I stick with the original plan and hope things cool down in Thailand between now and late July? As I've previously pointed out, coups are nothing new down there. Last week the BBC pointed out that Thailand has seen 12 coups since 1932. I'd venture to suggest that, compared to places like Libya or Somalia, Thailand is remarkably stable despite such frequent upheavals. On the other hand, dire warnings from the U.S. State Department (and, I anticipate, my own parents) will urge me to reconsider my travel plans and skirt the country altogether. 

Grmf. I don't know what to do, and I don't like it. Guess I'll just have to use the Polaroid approach: keep an eye on the situation and see what develops. 

Postie out. 

Hokkaido diary: Sapporo to Yamaguchi

Don't know where Yamaguchi is? Don't sweat it: I didn't either until February 6th of this year. Here's a little map for you.

And here's my diary entry for that day:

2/6:

5:23 a.m. Well, shoot. I thought I was being clever. Up at 4, at the station by opening time—5:15. I checked if the subway was open, but no dice. Ah well—it was only a 15-min. walk and there was no wind and the stars were out and it was sort of sexy, sneaking to the station in the predawn blackness. On the way I saw bonsai trees in people's yards, bedecked with a network of ropes to keep the slender branches from snapping under the weight of the snow. I saw great machines scooping up the enormous heaps of snow on the curbs and vomiting it into waiting dump trucks with a keening roar. In the dark, with their garish lights wreathed in snowy dust, they seemed like monstrous creatures locked in some kind of ponderous symbiosis. 

Normally-busy Sapporo Station, a ghost town at 5:15 a.m.

I got to the station to find that the ticket counter doesn't open until 5:40 and the first train for Hakodate doesn't leave until 7:00. So much for being clever. At this rate I won't reach Shin-Aomori until lunchtime. No wonder Google Maps said I'd reach Fukuoka at midnight tonight...

Statue of an Ainu man in Sapporo Station.

5:48 p.m. As I suspected—and I should have known—one cannot trust Google Maps in matters of foreign rail timetables. The fact that the earliest departure for Hakodate is 7:00 is the fatal flaw in my plan. The farthest I can go today is Shin (New) Yamaguchi. Granted, that's only 40 minutes from Hakata, but even so...here is my schedule. 

     Sapporo → Hakodate
     (7:00)           (10:31)                 Super-Hokuto 2

     Hakodate → Shin-Aomori
     (11:19)           (1:29 p.m.)        Hakucho 28

     Shin-Aomori → Tokyo
     (1:42)                (5:08)           Hayate 36

     Tokyo → Shin-Osaka
     (5:33)       (8:26)                       Hikari 523

     Shin-Osaka → Okayama     
     (8:40)                (9:52)            Kodama 765

     Okayama → Shin-Yamaguchi
     (9:55)             (11:48)              Kodama 767

Darn, lots of transfers. And I really don't like that I have only three minutes at Okayama to transfer. What if my train's delayed? Ah well—part of the adventure of it all, I guess. Just like where I'll sleep—or if I'll sleep at all—in Yamaguchi until the next morning's ride to Fukuoka. At least it'll be warmer down there. 

10:40 a.m. Just alighted at Hakodate, at the very extreme southern tip of Hokkaido. Started to snow heavily as we arrived; first snow I've seen (falling) all day. Dawn over the outskirts of Sapporo as we pulled out, with the sky blue all the way to the horizon and the pink and purple clouds reflecting onto the huddled buildings caked and glazed with snow, was the prettiest thing I've seen in a while. When the sun lifted itself above the clouds, I even saw a sun dog. As we got up to speed, a fine spray of snow flew from our passing, and when two trains met there was a veritable explosion of white dust, pure and clean as...well, driven snow. This island is a skier's paradise—not too cold but laden with tons upon tons of fine white powder. Incredible. 

I now have 35 minutes in this bleak, chairless, freezing station until the Super Hakucho for Shin-Aomori leaves. Think I'll eat some of my snacks. 

What I would have sworn was an active volcano just south of Sapporo.

The Super-Hokuto 2 in Hakodate Station.  

The platforms at Hakodate. Snowing like the dickens. 

Bleak, cheerless, chairless Hakodate Station. 

The Hakucho 28, ready to leave. 

11:13 a.m. Sitting on the train and waiting to get going. Feeling a powerful sense of melancholy which I can't account for, which began last night. The trip nearing its conclusion? The gray skies? Missing Miss H (and knowing that I won't see her until late tomorrow night)? Approaching the climax of Dan Simmons's The Terror, and knowing that his book puts my own paltry, puerile manuscript to shame? Musing that I'll be 28 this year and have the creeping sense that I've accomplished nil in all that time? The persistent feeling that I'm not really traveling, just picking first-world countries and cities on a map and booking tickets on line? The tallboy of Sapporo Gold I just cracked open? 

All of them, probably. This is going to be an unpleasant introspective two-hour ride to Honshu, I can tell. Oh well. Let's hope some more sightseeing out the window and a bit of music will put me to rights. 

1:45 p.m. Back in the land of bullet trains. I have a comfy, spacious seat and a porthole to myself again. But confound the Hokkaido JR! We were seven minutes late pulling into Shin-Aomori. I made the Hayate 36 with literally a minute to spare. Not cool. The Hakucho from Hakodate came to a complete, inexplicable stop TWICE during the two-hour run. Rrrgh. Makes me mad. At least I have a huge, delicious, green Hokkaido apple to console me. 

2:05 p.m. Dang, that was a tasty apple. 

The skies are clearing—we went through some blinding snowstorms on the last stretch to Aomori. There's a lot less snow down here, though I've seen snow-devils whirling and dancing in empty fields. I hope it stays clear through Honshu—and I hope I'm on the right side of the Osaka train so I can finally see Mt. Fuji (speaking of apples, heh heh). I didn't see it the last time I came this way. 

I am SO going to miss my connection at Osaka—no, I mean Okayama. I'm calling it right now. 

2:36 p.m. Morioka is a very pretty place when it isn't snowing. Blue snow-covered hills and cloud shadows. 

3:30 p.m. Gathering a boatload of passengers at Sendai. Last time I got a JR Pass they gave me a map with it. I expected it this time, but they didn't give me one, and I neglected to bring any. I'd love to be able to track our progress. We're more than halfway according to my watch, at least—though we did sit pointlessly in Morioka for 10 minutes or so. Hoo boy...well, the snow is all gone. No slush, even—just moist earth and wet pavement. I wonder what the weather will be like in Kyushu. 

4:49 p.m. Between Omiya and Ueno. We'll be at Tokyo Station in 20 minutes. Shades of night are falling fast; it'll probably be too dark to see Mt. Fuji. I've been traveling for 10 hours and have another 7 to go. 

6:13 p.m. Okay, I think I've got it figured out. If by some miracle I make my transfer at Okayama, all well and good. I'll moon around Shin-Yamaguchi Station all night and take the first train to Hakata in the morning. 

If (as I suspect) I don't make it, no biggie. I have ¥27,000 ($250-$260) left, which should cover a night bus—or train, if there is one. Or I might just say to hell with it and moon around Okayama. It's just one hour between there and Shin-Yamaguchi, and the ticket agent in Sapporo told me it's just 40 minutes more to Hakata. I could catch the 7:00 train from there and be in Hakata by a quarter to nine. When I get to Okayama, I'll have a look at the timetables. 

I have a really unhealthy lifestyle, you know? All I do is sit—and read, or write, or play computer games, or ride trains. No wonder I'm fat and blind (well, overweight and eyestrained). 

7:55 p.m. Just finished The Terror by Dan Simmons. If anything it's shown me what marvelous fruit an exhaustively researched and (as one ecstatic critic put it) "fully textured" historical novel can bear. Subsequently I've begun to believe that my own attempt at a historical novel, Mugunghwa (and perhaps Book One of my magnum opus, Revival, which is a historical/science fiction adventure tale) may be woefully under-researched, under-developed and inadequate. What'd make me feel better is if I had my computer with me so I could start making a list of written resources I've used (and need to look up as well), and begin tweaking both manuscripts again. The Tokaido-Sanyo Shinkansen has wi-fi, but I don't have my laptop. Shazbot. 

One more stop and then it's Shin-Osaka. That stop, incidentally, is Kyoto—one of my favorite cities in Japan. Sure is a shame I can't stop and play in it while I'm here. 

Okay, enough melancholy. I have my work cut out for me when I get back. For now let's just focus on getting to Okayama—and Shin-Yamaguchi, if possible. 

8:41 p.m. It's frustrating knowing that the train I'm in is sitting on the same rails that would take me all the way to Hakata—but can't, not tonight. What's also frustrating is that the train left the station five minutes late (either because it was tardy in arriving here or the cleaners took too long or both). That leaves me one measly minute to transfer at Okayama. 

Yeah. Right. It ain't happening, not unless the Kodama 767 at Okayama is also late in departing. Time will tell. 

9:09 p.m. Nishi-Akashi. Why are we just sitting here?!!

9:14 p.m. Finally moving. Jesus. That was easily 10-15 minutes. This didn't happen the last time I was here. Is Japan crumbling? Nah. A country shouldn't be judged by whether its trains run on time. Not solely, anyway. 

Young couple across from me are dozing together. Her head's canted at a 90° angle to rest on the dude's bony shoulder. Both are dressed in identical shades of gray, black, and white—NE Asian thing, couples dressing to match; the Koreans do it all the time, much to Miss H's disgust and my amusement. These two got on at Osaka. As I've wondered so many times while traveling on planes, boats, or trains—who are they? What were they doing and where are they heading?

9:55 p.m. I really can't believe it. I made it. The Kodama 765 pulled into Okayama at 9:53, and the 767 was right across the platform waiting for me. I jumped on without even looking to see what number it was—only reassuring myself with a tentative peek out the still-open door. I am Shin-Yamaguchi bound. 

Gotta hand it to Japan Rail. I had to admit I doubted 'em there for a minute. This is like a novel where the author looks like he's going to kill off your favorite character in the most contrived and ignominious way possible, only to save 'em at the last minute and have them execute a bold and brilliant counterattack which eviscerates the threat. 

First priority when I hit Yamaguchi at midnight—timetables. Second—a map. I want to see where in flaming hell I am. The western tip of Honshu, I'm guessing. 

So let's see here—setting aside that the Sapporo-Hakodate-Aomori run was by express train and not bullet train, I've nonetheless traveled from central Hokkaido to western Honshu in—what's it been—15 hours? WHY don't we have high-speed rail in the U.S. yet??

No, wait, scratch that. I'm not in western Honshu. Jumpin' Jesus—I haven't even passed Hiroshima yet. That's where I changed trains to go to Hakata when I was here in August. 

Dang. Gotta see if I can find a map in Yamaguchi. 

10:46 p.m. About an hour out of Yamaguchi and thundering toward Hiroshima—I hope. I just finished Paul Theroux's Ghost Train to the Eastern Star. Feelings are too effervescent and profound to describe. All dark outside the train windows. It really is like being a bullet in the barrel of a gun. What'll we hit? I miss Miss H. Need water—or beer. 

11:10 p.m. Brushed and flossed and ditched my trash while we were passing through (and stopping at) Hiroshima. How many times am I going to sneak through this town without stopping and seeing it?

No idea what the weather's like out there—temperature, I mean. People are still wearing long coats. At least there aren't any hats, gloves, scarves, or earmuffs. 

11:34 p.m. Tokuyama—last stop before Shin-Yamaguchi. Some people actually got on. Still no clue about weather—I can tell it's windy and that's that. Heavens—did I really leave Sapporo nearly 17 hours ago??

I hate to stop there, but that's the final note in my journal for February 6th. I'll fill you in on what happened that night after I got off the train at Shin-Yamaguchi tomorrow. I'd also like to add, here and now, that this train trip was the first time I'd ever seen a sun dog, a snow-devil or an active volcano. Oh mama, the places I've gone and the things I've seen...

Hokkaido diary: the 65th Sapporo Snow Festival

In one of the many cut-rate sci-fi adventure stories I read as a youth and continue to read to this day (this one was On Earth As It Is In Hell, an officially-licensed Hellboy novel by Brian Hodge), a defeated villain defiantly tells the hero: "Do you know why you'll always lose, in the end? Because what you consider victories are such small things."

Going to the Sapporo Snow Festival reminded me of that quip, for some reason. It just impressed me how something that started so small—a pack of enterprising Hokkaido University students building modest snow sculptures in Odori Park in central Sapporo—blossomed into an annual world-famous festival that attracts over two million foreign tourists per year.

This year I was one of them. Here's my diary entry for that day: 

2/5:

10:32 a.m. Nice long sleep-in. At Kita-12 jo waiting for the train. Hardly anybody here. Is it because I'm used to Seoul, which is always a zoo, or because of the festival? The 65th Sapporo Snow Festival starts today, and I am heading first to Odori Park and then to Susukino to take in two-thirds of it (the other third is up in Tsudome, near Asaba, way up north, but I'm prioritizing). 

It's STILL snowing. Must have snowed all night. Light snow, heavy snow, light snow again. The only time it hasn't snowed was the bright sunny first morning. Wow. Not sure how easy it'll be trying to wrangle an umbrella AND a camera in this weather, but I'll try.

1:07 p.m. What I was praying for happened. At 11 or so, 30 minutes after I arrived at Odori Park, the sky cleared. The snow stopped.

Hokkaido scallop, ¥500. Good deal. 

Crab soup, also five hundred yen. Three kinds of crab!

I got some great pics and then strolled south to Susukino to see the ice sculptures.

 

That there may be no speculation...those are real fish.

Now they're just making me hungry...

Now I'm standing outside of Sushizanmai (which looks packed to the gills) and memorizing the menu. I want the Uruoi Sushimori Special, which has herring roe, boiled prawn, salmon roe, red tuna, white stuff that could be squid or flounder, red snapper, and six other things besides. Great place—the waitresses bustle and flit about in blue blouses, white aprons, black stockings and buckled shoes, while the chefs flay away at the fish, egg, and seaweed with their long, thin knives, shouting hearty hellos, goodbyes and thank-yous to the patrons coming and going. The tea is hot and the atmosphere warm in more ways than one.

You could immediately tell the difference between this and any other cut-rate sushi joint—fresh, tender ginger, moist rice and succulent seaweed. Eating the herring roe was an interesting experience—it had the color and texture of an orange slice. The miso soup with prawn heads was a lovely counterpoint. The sea urchin roe had the consistency of apple butter. There was also sardine, sea eel, and albacore tuna, plus shellfish. One of the red fish—either mackerel or red tuna—simply melted in my mouth. A feast. 

3:00 p.m. Sitting in the Hokkaido University Museum. Made a brief but futile stop at the gift shop for souvenirs. Pole Town (an underground mall between Odori and Susukino Stations) was a bust, too. Speaking of busts, I'm going to go see William Clark's now.
"Boys, be ambitious!" 

3:41 p.m. Just sent off the postcard to my folks at Sapporo's big blocky grey post office, east of the station. I'm lucky everything is so close together in this town. I think I'll hit the station on the way back to the hotel in one last-ditch effort to find souvenirs. 

5:32 p.m. Darkness has fallen. My last day in Sapporo is over. I'm ready to be gone, but I am a bit sad. I found no souvenirs—not in the station, nor Tokyu Department Store, nor anywhere else. All that's left is to get some chicken kebabs (yakitori) and beer for dinner, pack my bags and go to bed early. 

7:28 p.m. ADDENDUM. I had a peek in the yakitori place and discovered it was actually an izakaya—and the prices weren't nice. So I stumped a bit further south and found something that wasn't crowded, noisy, or overpriced—Beer & Coffee Venison. The name isn't poetic license—they serve deer meat. So I went on in. The light was low, coming from a line of glass globes over the wooden bar, every other one of which had the names of various Scotch whiskies written on it in multicolored marker. Lots of dark wood and white stucco-like walls, interspersed with tables and chairs with cross-shaped holes in the back (plus fully-antlered deer skulls on the walls and old coffee grinders and tea tins on the shelves) completed the rustic ambience [sic]. Behind the bar were two men: one elderly and thin, severe in demeanor, wearing a tie and black waistcoat and apron, with a beige wool-knit cap which clung to his bald pate like a yarmulke. The other man was likewise in a dark suit (with a fleece jacket flung over it) but was young, handsome, and energetic. He drummed his fingers on the bar in time to the jazz playing on the stereo (Colin Stranahan and Lloyd Miller), and buzzed about snipping labels or sterilizing glasses. The place had a bewildering collection of empty beer bottles in the window and quite a few in the fridge, Negra Modelo, Old Tom, Stone IPA and Löwenbräu among them. The Scotch selection, though extensive, tended to favor Islay and Highlands single malts, I noted. 

I sat down and ordered some venison sausage and a ¥500 glass of Heartland (a European pale lager made by Kirin, with a fine flavor and a delicious creamy head). I nibbled on Hokkaido potato salad and sliced pickles (and later the sausage and some fresh fruit) while the younger barkeep and I attempted a conversation. His name was Kei, and he loved jazz. It was he who manned the Toshiba laptop above the bar and chose tune after syncopated tune. I sensed rather than knew—for he spoke as little English as I did Japanese—that he was a student at Hokkaido University and that this was his part-time job, and that he longed to escape from pulling pints and pouring whiskey and escape to Tokyo (or perhaps even New York) and found a jazz trio. We talked as much as we were able. I sipped beer. The old proprietor washed up or stared into space. I felt the weight of my impending departure weigh heavily upon me. It was an introspective moment—the old man in his wool cap behind the bar, arms folded, staring at the empty room; Kei drumming his fingers, nodding his head and gazing at the computer screen; and me with a cleaned plate and a sweating beer glass in front of me, eyeing the collection of whiskey bottles in their glass cabinets, thinking about getting up at 4 a.m. tomorrow and feeling simultaneously warm and content yet lonely and restless. 

I got up, paid, snapped some photos of the bar and its stewards, bowed low, and left. I bought a crap-ton of food at the convenience store for tomorrow's 18-hour journey—onigiri, bento, salad, coffee, beer, apples, and even something which looked suspiciously like kimchi. All I have to do now is pack my bags and await the dawn.