The rice fields are planted, and its time to take a break from the rice fields (tayasumi). The locals from our little hamlet gather together with our guests to peel bamboo shoots, and enjoy a brief break before it is time for the neighbors to get back to their fields, and our guests to say farewell as they head onto their next adventure in Japan.
I skipped out on fire department bugle duty yesterday and used the morning to pick cherries with Tomoe and Mona at a nearby cherry farmer. It was part of a special promotion for orchard owners in the area. For 2,000 yen ($20) We were allowed to pick all the cherries we can eat for 30 minutes. It sounds a bit expensive, but cherries are expensive here, and we figure we picked and ate about 10,000 yen worth, plus there is the fun of letting Mona pick.
If not careful, of course, after about five minutes you are full. I tried to go slow, but as good as they were, I was pretty sick of them after fifteen minutes. Tomoe was too, but Mona came up with the great idea to stuff some into her pockets (against the rules). Luckily she didn't get caught.
It was fun and we have both had our fill of cherries for a year, so no more looking longingly at the 1,000 yen little basket of cherries at the farm stand. We took a little "hike" around the orchard area afterwards because the cherry-farts would have made it impossible to get back into the confined quarters of the van.
Even more fun, however, and cheeper, is picking wild mulberries. Yesterday we visited one of our fields and were happy to find a few strawberries for Mona to pick, but even more happy to find the tiny mulberries on some of the trees that grow like weeds around here.
The unripe berries have a hallucinogenic effect, but the darker ripe ones are fine to eat. Luckily Mona is not a fan of the sour un-ripe ones. (One theory about the reason silk-worms were able to be so easily domesticated is that the the mulberry leaf, which is the only thing they eat, puts them in a drug-induced stooper and prevents them from wandering away.)
June 1st is generally the goal for finishing planting, but this year we were a bit late. One field left to go. Luckily there is a little girl to help me.
Here is your post cleaned up only for spelling, punctuation, and readability - no added AI fluff, no rewording of your voice. Just formatted nicely for a blog post:
In any bike tour over 2,000+ meter mountains, there is always the dilemma of:
"Just how do I make the loooonnnng boring downhill cruising more exciting?"
Well, something I discovered this time - the first time I brought my new (used) iPod with me - is that listening to NPR or a Berkeley Intro to Economics podcast is
NOT
the answer.
Yes, before I left, I filled my iPod with all the great podcasts I used to listen to as I rode my bike to work and back - lots of NPR stuff, some ABC News stuff, Newsweek, and some of the courses I have been following from Berkeley's open course podcast directory (Animal Behavior, Nutrition, and Economics). Just because there was more room on the iPod, I threw on some of the albums I bought from iTunes recently but had not had enough time to listen to - fully expecting that I would never listen to them.
The reason I was putting the more informative stuff on there was to make the urban stretches more enjoyable. A little to my surprise, the time I was least interested in listening is when I was concentrating hard on riding up the mountains - even though that was the time I was going slowest, sometimes at 8km/hr or less. (Partly this was because these are some of the best times to really concentrate on your surroundings - you're riding slow, there are no cars around, and copious vegetation to view and birds to listen to.)
Anyway, I found that when you are riding down a mountain - especially a loooonnnngg mountain, with a 40–60 minute curvy downhill cruise, with no cars, starting above the tree line, passing through small villages, and ending in a more urban zone - the best thing to listen to at these times is...
G Love.
Of course, you have to be sure to arrange the songs in alphabetical order, rather than the order on the album (my iPod seems to have arranged them like that by default so I was lucky).
Imagine, if you can, reaching the top of a 2,000-meter mountain pass. You take a minute to look around, to rest, and to meditate on the joy that lies ahead of you. Then, slowly (for the dramatic effect), you put in your earbuds, double-check to make sure the iPod is secure on your belt, and hit play.
The first song is "Astronaut".
(Listen to a sample from Amazon and feel what I feel.)
As you place your hands back onto the handlebars, and your feet back onto the pedals, the song begins...
Hit it G.
There is a pregnant pause - silence - as your muscles work to get your bike started - the little push needed before it all starts to flow.
As you begin to pedal, still at the top of the hill, the music breaks into a simple adrenaline-starting guitar riff... Just when gravity begins to take over and the ride really begins, a second guitar adds similar momentum to the song with a simple scratch on the strings, and within seconds the drums have started and the music is in full swing, in perfect sync with your bike which is now effortlessly cruising at 20km/hr and gaining speed with every second.
Before long, G Love breaks in with his lyrics, interspersed with drum breakdowns and guitar riffs... perfectly timed so that just when you hit 50km/hr, he is singing:
"...it's a good time to blast off to space."
Flowing effortlessly, as the bike flows effortlessly into the first curve, into the refrain:
Right about now
Awwww, Mama I'm an Astronaut...
And you really do feel like an astronaut, flying down the mountain... or maybe even better, knowing that you made it to the top relying on nothing but your own strength, power, and hard work.
If you listen in alphabetical order, the next song is "Don't Drop It" (Amazon) - a much mellower song, just as the initial adrenaline is wearing down, but still grooving enough to work well with the frequent turns that are common at higher altitudes. It's a good rest before...
"Love". Once again the tempo picks up - this time much more free and joyful than the hardcore adrenaline-pumping "Astronaut". The tempo, chords, and lyrics are perfect, as by now the turns are a little less frequent. Like the song, the road flows more evenly.
(You can see a complete video of "Love" at the G-Love site - click on media >> LAUNCH NEW PHILADELPHONIC VIDEO PLAYER. To my surprise, the video depicts him riding his bike, turning on his iPod, and enjoying the song as he rides - obviously feeling exactly as I feel when I hear it riding down the mountain! I SWEAR I never saw this video until just now! It's as if he made the entire album to be listened to by bike.)
By the time "Love" is over, there may be a little more traffic if you have passed any tributary roads on the way down. You are feeling high and having fun.
"Booty Call" (Amazon) is perfect. Mellow, yet beautiful, telling a fun story:
*neither one of us wanted to give love a try
but we would talk, talk, laugh and have a ball
but then we got drunk and fooled around and had a booty call
a booty call
ain't nuthin' wrong
Here's that section, cleaned up for spelling, punctuation, and line formatting - preserving your voice and layout as closely as possible, without adding anything AI-ish:
And let's not forget the ultra-catchy refrain which, once you hear, will keep popping up in your mind at the most inconvenient times.
sing
i can tell that we're gonna be friends
i can tell that we're gonna be friends
By now, even though the bike may not be slowing down, your hands are getting tired, and you're getting used to the "thrill." It's perfect timing for the mellow reggae beat of "Give It to You" (Amazon), followed by the most mellow of all, "The Hustle" (Amazon / video), perfectly timed to coincide with the very bottom of your adrenaline rush and the point at which you start to see more houses, cars, and other signs of civilization - signaling that the "adventure" portion of the ride is over.
After this, it doesn't really matter as much, but the songs keep coming with the perfect combination of tempo that matches the still-downhill cruise, and a mellowness such as the next song, "Front Porch Lounger," which contains the perfect lyric for riding into the sunset:
And I'm going
Where the summer never ends.
Yes I'm going...
On my way, on my way
Followed, of course, by the mellowest of all, "Lovin' Me" (Amazon).
And although they tend to blend into each other in the last half of the ride, how could I
not
mention the oh-so-fun beat of "Back of the Bus" (Amazon):
In the back of the bus it's a make out session
she's got the salad and I've got the dressing
All the cool kids in the back of the bus
Rubba dubba scrubba bubba
Whatchu talkin' 'bout Gus?
breakin' the rules
I hope we don't get caught
sha la la la la la la la la
It's a pattern I know well by now: every bike trip ends earlier than planned.
Today, after 530km of riding, I boarded a 6pm bus for the final 170km home. As always, I try to rationalize it - to silence that voice whispering "failure… failure…"
There were good reasons this time. My bike bag broke. Not a big deal until you realize it meant juggling a bunch of unnecessary gear, which somehow led to losing both my water and some food between Suwa and Fujimi. Add to that getting lost before the Suwa mountain crossing - costing me a full hour - and a late start that already had me chasing daylight. Then came the slow grind of rerouting, managing broken gear, and trying to make up lost time.
Even if none of that had happened, my plan was flawed: riding over 200km on the Koshu Kaido from Suwa to Shinjuku. That stretch - especially through the mountains - is narrow, car-heavy, and thankless. There's no prize at the end. No onsen. No sweeping downhill. Just concrete.
So yes, I gave in and took the bus.
But as we pulled into Shinjuku Terminal, something unexpected hit me: relief. Or was it... comfort?
Could it be that I actually missed Tokyo?
From my seat, I watched the endless stream of people - rushed, tired, animated, indifferent - all moving through the city like they belonged. After a week in the countryside, I saw them differently. Not just as "city people," but as another ecosystem. Each person - like the bugs and wild plants I passed on the road - fitting into a system with its own rhythm.
Maybe I was only able to see it this way because of the trip. The bike, the bags, the solitude - they opened up a different kind of interaction with people and places. And maybe that contrast - between human bustle and rural stillness - is what keeps me bouncing between the two.
Maybe it's a yin/yang thing. Too much of one, and I crave the other.
Or maybe I just couldn't wait to see Tomoe and the birds again.
Whatever the case, one thing is certain:
I'll be ready to head out again - tomorrow.
Or at least next week.
Some photos from recent training for Outdoor Education with Outward Bound in Washington.
Set aside the seasons, it was very different than the winter training I did with Outwardbound Japan.
The concept of teamwork and leadership is so different between the two, and I, being the only non-Japanese member of Outwardbound Japan (at that time, at least) seem to have been a bit of an enigma for them to handle.
Even though I chose to go there in order to prepare for One Life Japan, both were great.
Sending…
