Our New Year's Eve Adventure

Although we are on an island which does not celebrate anything in the traditional manner one associates with “Old Japan,” we decided to make the best of our New Year’s and went on a quest to incorporate as much tradition as possible. We also ventured to fight against the force which always seems to ruin New Year’s Eve. All told, our New Year’s evening turned into a 15 hour extravaganza, the longest Ryan and I had ever managed to celebrate on what usually turns out to be a fairly depressing holiday. So, in this way, we really succeeded in our attempt to bring in the New Year in an exciting way.

We had a plan that we thought was foolproof. We came up with it in November so that there would be no room for mishaps. We had the perfect evening planned -- then we received an invitation from our friend Kate. She had been invited to a family’s home for dinner and did not want to spend the evening alone with them. We had been told to go to a Japanese home for dinner if at all possible because it is “an amazing experience,” so we took the bait, hook, line and sinker.

Our original plan was this: 1. Go to Odori Park downotown and watch the live telecast greeting from our hometown Mayor, Vera Katz. 2. Go out for a huge Indian meal at one of our favorite restaurants. 3. Go to Kotoni temple to hear the “108 Desires of Man” rung out on the temple bells from 11:30-12:00. 4. Go dancing at a local place that serves free fresh fruit. 5. Take a cab and ropeway up to Mt. Moiwa for the “sunrise observation” from the highest point in Sapporo.

As with every New Year’s we have ever tried to plan, things went ary. After committing to the dinner with Mr. Yamauchi and family, we were told that we would be at his house for 6 hours. 5-11, no questions asked. In Japan, hosts and hostesses always give an arrival and departure time. There is no “fashionable lateness” and no leisurely departure. Mr. Yamauchi decided to take full charge of us and told Kate that he would escort us to the temple at 11PM. Saying “No thank you” was not an option. So, we got ourselves to the subway stop nearest Mr. Y’s house at 4:55, and he and his son arrived promptly at 5PM to take us back to their home.

When we got there, Mrs. Y and her mother-in-law were busy at work in the kitchen. There must have been ten different pots and trays of food going at once. Mr. Y told us, “Please sit down here.” There was no casualness about this. We were not allowed to stand and we were told to sit in very specific places -- decided for us before we arrived. Once we had sat there for a few minutes, playing with their cute little dog named Cookie or Biscuit, Mr. Y said, “Now, we will move to this room.” He gestured to the traditional tatami room, which had only a low to the ground table with cushions placed all around. We sat for awhile, making conversation, and then the food began to arrive.

The first course was a plate of various raw items. Two whole baby fish, three pieces of tuna, and a squid wrapped around fish paste. Mr Y. and his two children (a boy and a girl) dug into their New Year’s delicacies while Kate, Ryan, and I just took turns looking at each other with a “What should we do?” look on our faces. Kate had told Mr. Y that she did not eat raw fish, but he would later explain that it was his job to introduce her to New Year’s delicacies. Luckily, in our moment of not wanting to insult anyone, Ryan began to eat his plate of goodies. Kate and I watched him and so did Mr. Y. For the rest of the evening, Ryan was his new friend and Kate and I had only to defer to “the man.”

As the courses kept coming, they became more and more edible for Kate and I. The fish turned to beef and the kelp turned to vegetables. The main course, called Nabe, was served in a huge heated pot of water on the table(in the style of Shabu, Shabu) . The hostess would come out for a few minutes and place more items into the big pot. She layered in onions, lotus root, cabbage, mushrooms, beef, and finally, udon noodles. It was a very delicious broth and the dish was filling enough to stand on it’s own. While she was serving us, I couldn’t help feeling guilty that we were a group of foreigners in her home, whom she had never met, and here she was serving us on one of her religious holidays. It seemed very unfair of Mr. Y to put that on his wife. Maybe she didn’t mind, maybe she is used to him doing that, but the whole thing seemed unjust. In the three hours we spent sitting around the table, she sat down for approximately 10 minutes to eat a small bowl of Nabe. I know this is the Japanese way, but I felt guilty in contributing to it.

After our three hour meal came to an end, Mr. Y said, “Now we will move to the other room.” In the “other room,” we watched his children play video games for an hour. They had a game that was controlled by a “foot pad,” on which the player jumps up, down, across, etc., to control the action on the screen. I don’t know if we have these in the States because I am not up on my Sega knowledge, but I was shocked to see that video games can now be “foot controlled.” Kate and Ryan actually joined in the fun and I videotaped all the action -- we found that Ryan, when using his upper body, has a lot of promise in the world of foot controlled video games!

After visiting the world of Sega, we received another command for changing rooms. “We will now move upstairs,” Mr. Y announced. We obediently followed. By this point, however, I was becoming a little punchy. It was 10:10 and I knew that in an hour and a half, part three of my plan would commence -- with or without us there! When we reached the top floor, we were asked to sit down. Mr. Y brought out Hello Kitty UNO and said, “We will now play a game.” As we dug into the Hello Kitty game, we became acutely aware that Japanese UNO rules are much different than American ones. As the clock was nearing 10:30 by this point, I grew more punchy at the thought that I was playing UNO to a “wrong” set of rules, while my dream of hearing the 108 Desires of Man was quickly fading. Finally, a winner was declared. His daughter played her last card and Kate, Ryan, and I sighed in relief. Now we were free to segue-way into our, “Well, we were thinking we should leave a little early,” speech. We began folding our cards, but Mr. Y suddenly yelled, “NO!” Apparently, in Japanese rules you play until EVERYONE is out. There were six of us playing.

By the time we all finished ( I admit, I was cheating by the end -- in that I was purposefully trying to lose so others could win and go out), it was 10:55. Yes, a fifty minute game of UNO. We quickly announced that we should go, and Mr. Y asked which temple we wished to go to. I answered, Kotoni Temple. This was the wrong answer, however, and he informed us that we should go to Hokkaido Shrine, the biggest on the whole island. We agreed, just so long as we were free to go. Mr.Y told us that he needed to warm the car up and it would be another 10 minutes.

At 11:15, we piled into the car and made our way towards Hokkaido Shrine. After passing up many perfectly acceptable parking spots, Mr. Y decided that we should park two miles away from the shrine at the bank he always parks at when he goes downtown. Once we were parked, he said we would have to walk 10 minutes and then take a bus to the shrine. It was 11:35. I had missed the beginning of the 108 Desires of Man but hoped to catch the last half of them. I was a little upset by this time, and swore to Ryan that if I spent midnight on a bus I would rub Mr. Y’s bald head in the snow. I know -- harsh -- but I felt like a child who was not allowed to ask questions of her generous and superior parent. It was 11:52 and we were finally on a bus headed for Hokkaido Shrine.

When we arrived at 11:58, there were throngs of people making their way towards the temple. We got about a quarter of the way up the walk and were not able to go further because of the thousands of people in front of us. Ryan, Kate, and I looked at each other and wondered what we had gotten ourselves into. After about five minutes, I asked Mr. Y when the bells would ring. He answered, “Never. This is a shrine not a temple.” I cannot describe in writing my utter disappointment and frustration at his words, and conversely, the restraint it required to not carry out my earlier threat. “Furthermore,” he added, “We will wait about 2 hours in this line before we make it to the front to ring the prayer bell. Then you can make a wish.” I wish...I wish...Fighting back tears and a very loud sob, I said, “That was the whole point.” Kate and Ryan had lost their will to communicate, so I said, “We have had a terrible miscommunication and it’s not your fault. But I am very sorry. We are leaving right now and we are taking a cab to Kotoni Temple. I wanted to hear the 108 Desires of Man rung out on a temple bell and we’re going.” With that, the three of us plunged into the two foot snow drift at the side of the walkway and ran the 40 feet back to the sidewalk. Shocked and dismayed, Mr. Y and his children ran behind us, most likely apologizing for the foreigners who were kicking up snow and making a sheer spectacle of themselves.

We reached the sidewalk and hailed a cab. Mr. Y ran behind us, pleading with us to let him take us to Kotoni Temple. The looks on our faces told him, “No chance in hell.” So, he begrudgingly gave the driver instructions and we bid them farewell and heartily thanked Mr. Y. Alone in our own thoughts for several minutes of the cab ride, we finally burst out in hysterical laughter and decided that we would probably never be invited back to the Yamauchi’s home again!

I respect Japanese culture and I think there are many beautiful things about it, but one thing I have difficulty tolerating is the belief of many older Japanese men that they know what is best -- especially for young foreign people. This isn’t my first experience in this and won’t be my last. I wish there was a polite way of explaining the differences between being helpful and being controlling. As visiting foreigners, it often seems that we are more aware than the residents of the cultural opportunities available in this city. However, when we put ourselves in social situations, we are often robbed of our autonomy because we are young and foreign.

PART II

Before I describe the balance of the evening, I should explain here why it was so important for me to hear the 108 Desires of Man. In December of 1995, when I became deathly ill with heat stroke and dehydration after a trip to Thailand, I laid in my bed on New Year’s Eve in Tokyo and heard the bells at the temple down the street from my apartment. For an hour, I laid there, thinking myself close to expiration, saying my goodbyes to my family, pleading with myself to at least make it through the bells. At the end of the 108 Desires, my roommate came in and found me. She took me to the hospital and here I am. Five years later, I had hopes of somehow saying goodbye for good to that horribly dark night in my life, but as Kate pointed out to me, you cannot plan cathartic events in your life. They just happen. Especially on New Year’s Eve.

When we finally made it to Kotoni Temple, the bells had long before ceased, but many celebrants were still praying, drinking sake, and enjoying a large bonfire. Many said, “Happy New Year!” to us and included us in their revelry. We each bought a little prayer bag to prove our presence at Kotoni and then made our way to the subway. It was 1:00 A.M. Our sunrise observation was not for another 4 1/2 hours so we decided to go eat MORE food! We went to the only 24 hour burger restaurant in town. It is called Mosburger. Despite it’s unappetizing name, they put out a good burger called the “Fresh-baga.” While in Mos, we were entertained by a young Japanese man on a seatless bike who continually rode back and forth, twirling an umbrella. At 1:00 A.M., he appeared to us as a James Dean character, out of a Akira Kurasawa film, riding to the tunes of Singing in the Rain. It was a most unexpected and entertaining sight to behold!

After our “Fresh-baga,” we made our way to Locotonte, the dance club known for serving free fresh fruit. The streets were eerily deserted but we felt a surge of energy at 2:00 A.M., content with being the only people still awake, roaming the streets of Sapporo. When we arrived at Locotonte, we saw that we were not alone in our “all night quest,” as at least 150 people were packed into the tiny dance floor, getting down to a remake of “I Will Survive.” There was not a Japanese person to be found and we realized that we had entered into a little piece of Americana -- except for the few Russian women who had apparently come over to celebrate in Japan. Here, I must describe what one of the women was wearing because it is something the three of us will never forget. It is burned into our memories. She was obviously looking for love or looking for work because this is what she wore: 10 inch-heeled black bat girl boots, white see-through shorts cut right up to her buttocks, an exposed midriff and a matching white sleeveless see-through shirt. All of this was accessorized with Rhinestone jewelry, black gloves and a foot of hair piled on her head. We just watched her in amazement as she flitted from one guy to the next, seeming very uncomfortable as she tugged at the back of her shorts. Next to the other patrons, who were all in muted colors (and sizes that fit, I might add), we all agreed that at the very least, the woman had some egotistical guts that we would never have. After discovering that there was no fresh fruit that evening, but, instead, hot Soba noodles (in the tradition of New Year’s), we all accepted our fate of the coming two hour wait and purchased hot canned coffee out of a vending machine. We amused ourselves for two hours by watching all the drunk people. Some threw up on each other, some talked to us and tried to act sober, and others put the moves on people they had just met. It was all very entertaining -- but at times, a bit scary as there was a large heater in the middle of the room with an exposed heating element. A portion of our time was spent steadying people so they wouldn’t fall into it.

At 4:00 A.M. we went outside and hailed a cab. I had become tainted by our earlier experience and wanted to make sure we had a seat on the first gondola up to the Mt.Moiwa observation point. I didn’t want to miss the sun. As I will explain later, there was no threat of that happening. After arguing with the cab driver, who would not believe us that such an event was going on, and actually radioed in for confirmation, we arrived at the base to find that we were numbers 4, 5, and 6 to go up. Only three other people in the whole city of Sapporo had been more paranoid than me, and we ran no risk of losing a spot on the 4:30 A.M. gondola. By this time, we were all giddy with no sleep and excited that the latter half of our plan was actually materializing. When the clock struck 4:15, we got in line and became numbers 1,2, and 3. The ride up in the gondola was very fun and enjoyable. It was just like any other ropeway; completely enclosed with seating around the sides. The ride lasted about 5 minutes. I commented, “Well, that’s a short ride to the top.” Little did I know that we had only completed half of our journey. We soon discovered that the other half would be spent in individual ski lift seats, suspended 25 feet off the ground, 20 feet from each other.

At this point, I was feeling the effects of being awake for 36 hours with too much coffee, and the thought of being in a ski lift chair by myself, in the dark, amongst the trees and the eerie fluorescent lights, was a little frightening. However, I decided that I could not stop -- we had come too far on our New Year’s journey to turn back. As we glided through the late night/early morning air, the snow began to come down. It was beautiful and peaceful and terrifying all at the same time. I clutched the small pole connected to the cable which held the chair suspended in mid-air -- the only thing responsible for my “safety” 25 feet up. I don’t know if any of you have ever experienced an individual chair lift in the dark but there is an overwhelming urge to JUMP. For what seemed like an hour, I had to continually tell myself that jumping would not be a good idea. In that “hour,” which in reality, was no more than 5 minutes, my mind played many tricks on me. Among them, I imagined that I saw a very tall Hokkaido yeti coming towards my chair, prepared to steal me into the woods. I closed my eyes and repeated to myself, “it will all be over soon.” When I opened my eyes again, a young Japanese man was looking at me very curiously, motioning for me to step off the lift.

Once inside, Kate, Ryan, and I discussed our separate journeys and I was relieved to learn that they too had entertained thoughts of jumping out of their chairs. We decided that eating would be the best cure for our frozen bodies and so we set out to eat yet another meal. We went to the only restaurant on the observation hill and bought tickets out of a vending machine (this style is often used in restaurants in Japan) and handed them to the cooks. We then took a seat by the window and discovered the most beautiful view of Sapporo that any of us had seen. It was breathtaking. The many lights of the city twinkled and the moon was just bright enough to cast a hue over the snow that covered buildings and smaller surrounding mountains. We had finally made it to our final destination and I realized that I was exhausted. !

Our feast quickly arrived which consisted of pork katsu (cutlets) over rice with curry, fries with butter sauce, and fried chicken balls. Though we had eaten two meals in the past 7 hours, we easily devoured a third. We justified our gorging on the amount of activity we had sustained. After our meal, we headed up for the “sunrise observation,” best viewed from the top of the lodge. We climbed the spiral staircase up to the top and discovered an indescribable cold. The wind was so incredible that it actually pushed Kate and I backwards. We stuck it out, though, because we were determined to see the Sapporo sunrise.

We waited for what felt like a very long time, but still, no sunrise. By 6:30, our teeth were chattering, feeling had left our limbs, and the sky was threatening a heavy snow storm. We contemplated leaving but felt that we should be on the highest peak at the highest point since we had gone to all the trouble to usher in the new year. Finally, at about 7:00, the sky began to change in color, and a hush fell over the large crowd that had gathered. The snow on the mountains turned from blue, to green to white and the lights of the city ceased to twinkle as brightly as before. The sun was rising but it was not a sunrise. The crowd breathed sighs of disappointment as we slowly realized that the night was changing into day but the sun was hidden behind the storm clouds. Our only consolation was that between two large, gray snow clouds, we could make out the slightest orange sliver of sun -- indicating that the sun was definitely up. !

Kate, Ryan, and I regretfully left our front row posts and headed down into the lodge and back onto the lifts to take us down. I was too tired and feeling too robbed of my long awaited “experience” to fear the ride down. We had seen the new year arrive but not with the beautiful glory of the first sunrise which we had hoped for and deprived ourselves of sleep for. ! When we arrived at the bottom, we hailed a waiting taxi and the driver quickly whisked us towards home. As we neared Higashi Sapporo (our area), we looked up and saw that the storm clouds had parted, and there on the horizon, was a beautiful pink and orange sky.