Breaking out of Japan

After spending two years of my post-grad career living, loving, loathing, and working in the countryside of Japan I realized it was time for my next adventure. Don't get me wrong -- I had a once-and-a-lifetime opportunity that gave birth to new experiences and emotions I would have never felt otherwise.

But -

Upon discovering at 3AM that my roller coaster romance had taken a Coney Island nosedive into unfaithful waters, I declined to renew my contract and attend graduate school in another country and world away.

However.

Upon my acceptance into a leading university, I discovered that I had neither the endurance nor funding to enter two more years of schooling after spending the last eighteen years in the educational system.

So...

This is where I had to put my big girl pants on and decide just what kind of life I wanted to make for myself. I deferred school for a year and packed my boxes and shipped them off to my mother's back in the States and spent the last months busily doing nothing.

Then came the week before my departure. My apartment was emptied, and my heart was strained when I had the brilliant idea of climbing Mt. Fuji as a farewell to arms. Looking at my schedule, I was to depart my hometown city of Niihama on the ninth of August, travel to Tokyo via the overnight bus, then spend two nights in Tokyo before departing Japan via Narita on the 12th. This lead a very small window of opportunity. I headed to my local Grand Fuji travel agency immediately.

This is a "loose" summary taken from the painfully long and awkward (on my part) Japanese conversation:

Me: Hello! Long time no see. I want to climb My Fuji
Agent: Oh good! It's best to climb at night and watch the sunrise from the top.
Me: Oh neat-o. Sign me up.
Agent: When would you like to go.
Me: Well, actually I'm leaving the country in a week so... either the 10th or 11th. My bus ticket to Tokyo is on the 9th you see.
Agent: Oh yes. I remember. Too bad. *checking online* You must take a bus from downtown Tokyo to the base of Mt. Fuji. There is space available. 9:45am, 5pm, and 8pm
Me: Goody! Put me on the 8pm. (I figured I would be exhausted from the lack of sleep an overnight bus provides and could sleep until then)
Agent: Oh no! That isn't right. Usually, people take the 7, 8 or 9:45am, hike halfway up, then sleep in a little cabin. At 2am, everyone wakes up and continues to climb to react the sunrise in time.
Me: Okay, sounds good. Please book me a room.
Agent: *begins making calls* No vacancy... no vacancy... no vacancy... Sorry, this is very sudden you know? Usually people book in advance.
Me: Yes, I'm sorry.
Agent: No vacancy... Ah! There is one space left in xxx-place. There are no beds. One shared bathroom for 100 people. Everyone sleeps on the floor. It's 90 dollars.
Me: Uh...
Agent: *expectant look*
Me: I guess so...
Agent: *calls back* Oh sorry, it was just booked. No vacancy.
Me: Sheesh! Then just book the later bus. I'll climb it in one shot.
Agent: I'm sorry, but I won't. It will be very dark. It's very dangerous. You are by yourself (and a woman). No, I can't [book the bus for you].
Me: Are you serious?!
Agent: Yes. I cannot help you.
Me: Then give me the bus terminal information. I'll do it myself when I get to Tokyo. Good Day.

I was so riled up that I marched out more determined than ever to make it to the top.

It was raining when I boarded the 12 hour bus ride to Tokyo and I was already freaking out about leaving my home of the last two years. I slept on and off, too conflicted and uncomfortable to manage better than a few hours. I arrived dead tired and immediate looked for a place to nap but was denied entry due to being a single female. So, I lugged my backpack to Shinjuku station and from there located the bus line (where I purchased a 5:50pm ticket) and felt the completely exhausted in doing so. To re-power my energy, I did what any woman would do. I shopped. I checked out Shinjuku and Harajuku shopping districts where I bought adorable necklaces and clothes from UNIQLO. Then I headed back to the bus terminal where I awaited my fate.

I boarded the bus and was beginning to realize that this wasn't my best idea. I had a cheap flashlight, my old jeans, a rain coat, a sweatshirt, water, and a lot a nerve. I managed to convince myself that 1) the top of a mountain must be warm during summer and 2) I knew what I was doing since I'd be around other hikers. The truth is, as soon as I arrived to the 5th station (which is a partial way up the iconic mountain), I discovered that no one seemed to know what they were doing. I bought a walking stick since it seemed appropriate, then wandered aimlessly trying to find the beginning of the trail in semi-darkness.

My apparent helplessness was not lost on other climbers. A sweet German couple (who were spending their retirement participating in extreme sports) allowed me to join their group and guided me on the right path.

Well, needless to say this partnership didn't last long as I am completely out of shape and was soon left in the dust. My dinky light managed to pick up on other foreign strangers that seemed to be traveling alone as well and I braced myself for the worst: chatting them up. It turned out quite lovely actually as one guy was from Alaska, another from Canada, and a brother/sister couple hailed from California (though the brother retired down the mountain before making it much further and the girl was currently residing in Australia).

We enjoyed talking and exploring; I was tripping behind and discovered that my flashlight (complete with new batteries purchased at the Mt. Fuji gift shop) had decided to commit suicide and drag me down with it. I couldn't see a bloody thing in the dark and it became apparent that I was the weakest link. Not one to give up, my sheer perseverance (and several falls) prompted the guy from Alaska to let me borrow his headlight. Life was much more enjoyable, though the top began to bottleneck as experienced (or maybe just ones with better travel agents) climbers woke from their bunk houses and began to join the trail.

There were many pit stops that had shack set up with novelty foods and stations for getting your walking stick branded. Note: If you climb Mt. Fuji - buy a staff and bring a lot of yen.

I lost sight of my hodgepodge group but as God would have it, we all met right at the top minutes before the sun began to rise:

A sea of clouds swarmed around the base of Mt. Fuji and our eyes began to sting from the blinding light. After darkness comes the dawn. Which I conquered, as seen below:

At the top there are food shops that sell warm staple meals (udon or ramen) and a shrine. I managed to discover a ¥10,000 bill. Normally, I would turn it in but there was no police box and quite frankly it was a welcomed gift to fund the amazing journey I was having.

Coming down from the mountain (which is really a volcano) was ridiculous. Sheer and utter folly. The path up the mountain is packed with rocks which create natural hand holds. Down... was paved at sheer angles and had sleep-deprived people tumbling down. Literally. And the lines to the outhouses ... oh dear. I wish I had experienced a medical problem since fatigued Japanese women were being led down on a pack mule. They were the lucky ones.