Back from Nagano: What a ride I began the trip with a frenetic rush to escape Haibara; Jumping from bike to bus to train to another train to finally rendezvousing with my ride; a lovely beautiful car.  Being at the mercy of public transportation renders my enthusiasm for riding in a personal vehicle to the levels of euphoria one might expect from a dog’s first chance of feeling the breeze float through his ears on a warm stretch of highway through the open window.  The ride up was a lovely mix of great conversation splashed with moments of guilt and embarrassing revelations about music and television taste. Highlights included an hour long-cringe-worthy conversation about the feasibility of Gossip Girl, as we inched along the traffic-congested ring-roads of Nagoya while poor Padraig cringed behind the wheel.   Arriving in Hakuba in the wee hours of the morning, we managed to pack in a little socializing before tucking into our giant room; it probably could sleep 30 or so weary backpackers, but there were just the three of us between the expansive tatami floor and loft. The next day, we awoke to a dreamy breakfast and mellow conversation before traipsing up the hill to the slopes.  Clad in far-too-many-layers, I quickly surmised after two runs that I would almost assuredly go mad and rip all of my clothes off if I was forced to continue on snowboarding in my over-prepared outfit.  I prudently rented a Y100 locker and stuffed my 2 extra pairs of pants, scarf and hat into the compartment designed to house a wallet and some keys.  Back onto the slopes again, I decided to go for broke and rode the gondola straight to the peak; I’m still pretty new on a board, but I was determined to summit the beast at least once before the end of the day. Better to start early in case it took me four hours to descend.   After doing a few green runs to warm up, I chairlifted my way back up to the top of the gondola, preparing to level up to a red run.  Alas, it was not to be, as the weather had taken a turn for the worse, and all those unwilling to brave a black diamond were herded back down the Gondola in shame.  All in all it was a successful day on the slopes.  Despite the fisher-price quality of my rental board, I was able to progress leaps and bounds in my riding, and the conditions (which were a bit bizarre really) only contributed to my skill development. The snow, while free from icy patches, was an almost whipped-slurpie texture, from the heat, and handled strangely, although brilliantly for certain maneuvers.  It was a pleasure to fall down in, while remaining equally  motivating to get up from, dare I give my pants time enough to soak through! The evenings were equally as enjoyable, causal and relaxing.  The guesthouse does not want for atmosphere and cozy hideaways, and we were able to socialize on a variety of panes; we made some new Japanese fellow-guest friends (who were all inexplicably wearing matching pajamas – allegedly not on purpose), and with an element of free booze and social lubrication, became quick cultural exchange sponges. It was lovely to sit and speak with groups of Japanese our own ages – something that the inaka does generally lack.  My favorite part of the evening was my casual participation in a poker game. It was　1000円　 buy in, which I happily paid, thinking I’d likely never see the money again, and was going to learn how to play, while enjoying the company of the new-arrivals.  The lone female, at the table of 10 guys, I was quite clearly a bit of a fish-out-of-water, and decided quite early on that I would just play for fun, and not worry about asking questions, as I was unfamiliar with this particular version of poker they were playing. I could tell right away, that several of the men about the room had sized me up, and were quite content to just take my money and knock me out of the running’s as fast as possible, but that wasn’t exactly how things happened.  Hand after hand after hand, I kept winning, I’d lose occasionally, but I seemed to know exactly when to bow out to avoid destruction. At my highest, I controlled over 70% of the pot, and had to become the default bank for when other players ran out of chips and wanted to buy back in.  Five hours into the game, I’d lost a few rounds and was really sleepy, so I cashed out. I had finished the evening five thousand  richer than I began,  as well as having crushed a few doubting players at the same time.  It felt good. The strange part was, how hurt some (okay one) of the boys had gotten from losing to a girl – especially a girl who didn’t claim to be the worlds best poker player. All I can attribute my success to was my summer of listening to far too many renditions of Kenny Roger’s The Gambler. For a weekend spent catapulting myself down steep mountains on a flimsy-plastic board, drinking sake with new friends, and sitting around a smoky poker table till the sun was almost rising, and spending 14+ hours en route I haven’t felt so relaxed from a weekend in ages. There’s something truly rejuvenating about bliss, friendship and accomplishment. I’m going to chase that feeling. *Snowboarder pictured is from a shameless google image search

Back from Nagano: What a ride

I began the trip with a frenetic rush to escape Haibara; Jumping from bike to bus to train to another train to finally rendezvousing with my ride; a lovely beautiful car.  Being at the mercy of public transportation renders my enthusiasm for riding in a personal vehicle to the levels of euphoria one might expect from a dog’s first chance of feeling the breeze float through his ears on a warm stretch of highway through the open window. 

The ride up was a lovely mix of great conversation splashed with moments of guilt and embarrassing revelations about music and television taste. Highlights included an hour long-cringe-worthy conversation about the feasibility of Gossip Girl, as we inched along the traffic-congested ring-roads of Nagoya while poor Padraig cringed behind the wheel.   Arriving in Hakuba in the wee hours of the morning, we managed to pack in a little socializing before tucking into our giant room; it probably could sleep 30 or so weary backpackers, but there were just the three of us between the expansive tatami floor and loft. The next day, we awoke to a dreamy breakfast and mellow conversation before traipsing up the hill to the slopes.  Clad in far-too-many-layers, I quickly surmised after two runs that I would almost assuredly go mad and rip all of my clothes off if I was forced to continue on snowboarding in my over-prepared outfit.  I prudently rented a Y100 locker and stuffed my 2 extra pairs of pants, scarf and hat into the compartment designed to house a wallet and some keys.  Back onto the slopes again, I decided to go for broke and rode the gondola straight to the peak; I’m still pretty new on a board, but I was determined to summit the beast at least once before the end of the day. Better to start early in case it took me four hours to descend.   After doing a few green runs to warm up, I chairlifted my way back up to the top of the gondola, preparing to level up to a red run.  Alas, it was not to be, as the weather had taken a turn for the worse, and all those unwilling to brave a black diamond were herded back down the Gondola in shame. 

All in all it was a successful day on the slopes.  Despite the fisher-price quality of my rental board, I was able to progress leaps and bounds in my riding, and the conditions (which were a bit bizarre really) only contributed to my skill development. The snow, while free from icy patches, was an almost whipped-slurpie texture, from the heat, and handled strangely, although brilliantly for certain maneuvers.  It was a pleasure to fall down in, while remaining equally  motivating to get up from, dare I give my pants time enough to soak through!

The evenings were equally as enjoyable, causal and relaxing.  The guesthouse does not want for atmosphere and cozy hideaways, and we were able to socialize on a variety of panes; we made some new Japanese fellow-guest friends (who were all inexplicably wearing matching pajamas – allegedly not on purpose), and with an element of free booze and social lubrication, became quick cultural exchange sponges. It was lovely to sit and speak with groups of Japanese our own ages – something that the inaka does generally lack. 

My favorite part of the evening was my casual participation in a poker game. It was　1000円　 buy in, which I happily paid, thinking I’d likely never see the money again, and was going to learn how to play, while enjoying the company of the new-arrivals.  The lone female, at the table of 10 guys, I was quite clearly a bit of a fish-out-of-water, and decided quite early on that I would just play for fun, and not worry about asking questions, as I was unfamiliar with this particular version of poker they were playing.

I could tell right away, that several of the men about the room had sized me up, and were quite content to just take my money and knock me out of the running’s as fast as possible, but that wasn’t exactly how things happened.  Hand after hand after hand, I kept winning, I’d lose occasionally, but I seemed to know exactly when to bow out to avoid destruction. At my highest, I controlled over 70% of the pot, and had to become the default bank for when other players ran out of chips and wanted to buy back in.  Five hours into the game, I’d lost a few rounds and was really sleepy, so I cashed out. I had finished the evening five thousand  richer than I began,  as well as having crushed a few doubting players at the same time.  It felt good. The strange part was, how hurt some (okay one) of the boys had gotten from losing to a girl – especially a girl who didn’t claim to be the worlds best poker player. All I can attribute my success to was my summer of listening to far too many renditions of Kenny Roger’s The Gambler.

For a weekend spent catapulting myself down steep mountains on a flimsy-plastic board, drinking sake with new friends, and sitting around a smoky poker table till the sun was almost rising, and spending 14+ hours en route I haven’t felt so relaxed from a weekend in ages. There’s something truly rejuvenating about bliss, friendship and accomplishment. I’m going to chase that feeling.

*Snowboarder pictured is from a shameless google image search

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