The synchronicity of Japanese road kill
It's about 11pm and I stand on the corner minding the bags breathing deep of cold air that doesn't taste acrid with scorched earth. Its quiet it seems for a Friday night, at least for what I expect from a place I have never been before. Its cold but it's a good cold, though everyone is wearing football jumpers and as far as a season is able it feels friendly, each little gust of wind another playful kiss upon my brow. I open my eyes and regain my composure, my friend's words coming back to me. "You know you look like an idiot when you do that". Since then I have been mindful not to fight, kiss, hug or otherwise interact with the seasons anymore…. At least not when people are watching.
She catches my attention immediately as she strides towards me, exuding obvious charm, charisma and grace. The fact that she is wearing a French maids dress when most others are cloaked in shorn animal and the random lard rubbing to endure the cold is a testament to her awesome. A jolt of electric panic washes through me as her eyes lock onto mine. "I've never been propositioned by a prostitute before" my mind screams. Her lips part in a smile and though I know words are coming out I can't understand them as the earflaps on my beanie are blocking out her words.
My confusion is obvious and she repeats herself. Are you something something ..ight you something? She says again in an indecipherable drawl.
I decide on a shake of my head and a no for a response.
"What do you mean no?"
"Um I ah don't ah…."
Finally it occurs to me that I understood what she was saying all along when she asks me one last time. "Are you having a good night ya cunt?" Such a beautiful contrast I couldn't help but smile, a beauty with a foul mouth. A couple of guys walk past obviously entranced by her charms as well one with a shout out of "hey there brown hair".
"Fuck you, you homo!" she shouts back continuing her walk down the street and at that moment I fell in love with her just a little. The restless intelligence behind her eyes said more about her than she ever needed to say.
Jump to Saturday and the bus is crawling to our destination but mostly I am glad that we are moving towards the snow regardless of speed. After a mild mid morning freak out that transport to snowboardstown wasn't likely we jag the last ride in the afternoon and the next few hours are spent wandering. I find a hot rad black jacket with fur trim which happens to be a ladies but because its suede its impractical for snow and end up buying a stupid blue men's one which I hate from the first moment I lay eyes on it. I later take it back and bathe myself in the moonlight to remove its hideous curse from my person. I get some sweet photos of demolished building rubble, a witch's hat, a chair and a broken fridge though not the blood I found. They don't like trespass here either it seems.
The blue bar Saturday night
Its packed though its immediately apparent that I am not drunk enough to understand the native dialect which is more intuitive with exaggerated gestures. Also everyone is wearing tracksuit pants and beanies and I've left my culture crossing headwear at the lodge. Contrary to popular opinion they don't all go around saying fush and choops, my friend says this every time he hears the accent and we establish a bag rule that if he does it again I kill him via a plastic bag over the head while he sleeps. I now realize I should have done it anyway. His superpower being a soul rending snore that can pierce time and make a persons eyes bleed. The only salvation I find is on the last day with a liberal application of alcohol, sleeping pills and ear plugs and only then am I protected for but a few hours.
After a few drinks I want to leave, as we need an early start to make sure we get some snowboarding in, peer pressure results in more drinking… We wander back to the lodge and a middle aged lady who had been looking at me throughout the night approaches on the way and says "there is a place down there if you are looking for a place to hide that isn't so obvious". Assuming this to mean that the village's supernatural visitation was about to occur I nod gravely and thank her.
Sunday snowtowne
The trip up the mountains is quite tranquil as the scenery meanders past and I watch fitfully for the first sign of snow. From a distance it doesn't seem natural, as if the tourism industry has planted white plastic patches on the side of the mountain to induce visitors into the country. The path is somewhat precarious (not really) but an error in judgment could lead to a right royal fuckup with a massive plummet off the edge, maybe landing in a tiny patch of plastic fake snow if you are lucky. Secretly I wish for an avalanche or something to push us off the edge. But shh.
It turns out snowboarding isn't as hard as I expected, definitely easier than surfing in my opinion. After a few runs down the beginner slope I stop next to an entangled Japanese guy who has skied right over/into a child. It's not the mess that grabs my attention though; it's the odd serenity on the child's face. Not a blink, not a cry, nothing, the eyes are closed but not squeezed tight. That said the Japanese guy wasn't moving much either and there they lay for something like 5 minutes. It eventually gets so hot that I contemplate snowboarding in my thermals alone. My friend hurts his knee.
Sunday night is spent mingling with the locals at the bar (maybe 6 people there) where we run into a guy named Shane who looks and acts like my friend's friend Shane. Also he is wearing a sweater I own that I never wear since whilst good in principal doesn't work with anything I own. It doesn't look good on him either. On the way out of the bar a Japanese guy stumbles into me in the middle of an empty pub. Guess who it is???
Monday is fairly uneventful. Another early day not that it's particularly relevant since I haven't slept anyway. I end up running into another Australian whose friend also injured themselves so we brave the elements alone fighting back wolves on the way to find a sandwich in the ah kitchen thing, oh and red bulls for fighting off cannibals. Unfortunately though the mountain is closed due to some freaky weather with strong winds that scour the snow until it is coarse and abrasive. When the wind blows it carries tiny shards of ice that bite at the skin and makes me smile, its nice in a stingy way.
I head back to the motel and wander around town for a few hours doing handstands and cartwheels. I buy an apple from a store and end up standing behind the same guy I met up at the mountain. I find a broken spoon and crave dearly for it but feel wrong shifting it from its random falling so leave it where it lays.
Blah blah blah I get on a plane and go home.
That's pretty much it. In conclusion snowboarding is awesome and I'm going back next winter for at least 2 weeks.
She catches my attention immediately as she strides towards me, exuding obvious charm, charisma and grace. The fact that she is wearing a French maids dress when most others are cloaked in shorn animal and the random lard rubbing to endure the cold is a testament to her awesome. A jolt of electric panic washes through me as her eyes lock onto mine. "I've never been propositioned by a prostitute before" my mind screams. Her lips part in a smile and though I know words are coming out I can't understand them as the earflaps on my beanie are blocking out her words.
My confusion is obvious and she repeats herself. Are you something something ..ight you something? She says again in an indecipherable drawl.
I decide on a shake of my head and a no for a response.
"What do you mean no?"
"Um I ah don't ah…."
Finally it occurs to me that I understood what she was saying all along when she asks me one last time. "Are you having a good night ya cunt?" Such a beautiful contrast I couldn't help but smile, a beauty with a foul mouth. A couple of guys walk past obviously entranced by her charms as well one with a shout out of "hey there brown hair".
"Fuck you, you homo!" she shouts back continuing her walk down the street and at that moment I fell in love with her just a little. The restless intelligence behind her eyes said more about her than she ever needed to say.
Jump to Saturday and the bus is crawling to our destination but mostly I am glad that we are moving towards the snow regardless of speed. After a mild mid morning freak out that transport to snowboardstown wasn't likely we jag the last ride in the afternoon and the next few hours are spent wandering. I find a hot rad black jacket with fur trim which happens to be a ladies but because its suede its impractical for snow and end up buying a stupid blue men's one which I hate from the first moment I lay eyes on it. I later take it back and bathe myself in the moonlight to remove its hideous curse from my person. I get some sweet photos of demolished building rubble, a witch's hat, a chair and a broken fridge though not the blood I found. They don't like trespass here either it seems.
The blue bar Saturday night
Its packed though its immediately apparent that I am not drunk enough to understand the native dialect which is more intuitive with exaggerated gestures. Also everyone is wearing tracksuit pants and beanies and I've left my culture crossing headwear at the lodge. Contrary to popular opinion they don't all go around saying fush and choops, my friend says this every time he hears the accent and we establish a bag rule that if he does it again I kill him via a plastic bag over the head while he sleeps. I now realize I should have done it anyway. His superpower being a soul rending snore that can pierce time and make a persons eyes bleed. The only salvation I find is on the last day with a liberal application of alcohol, sleeping pills and ear plugs and only then am I protected for but a few hours.
After a few drinks I want to leave, as we need an early start to make sure we get some snowboarding in, peer pressure results in more drinking… We wander back to the lodge and a middle aged lady who had been looking at me throughout the night approaches on the way and says "there is a place down there if you are looking for a place to hide that isn't so obvious". Assuming this to mean that the village's supernatural visitation was about to occur I nod gravely and thank her.
Sunday snowtowne
The trip up the mountains is quite tranquil as the scenery meanders past and I watch fitfully for the first sign of snow. From a distance it doesn't seem natural, as if the tourism industry has planted white plastic patches on the side of the mountain to induce visitors into the country. The path is somewhat precarious (not really) but an error in judgment could lead to a right royal fuckup with a massive plummet off the edge, maybe landing in a tiny patch of plastic fake snow if you are lucky. Secretly I wish for an avalanche or something to push us off the edge. But shh.
It turns out snowboarding isn't as hard as I expected, definitely easier than surfing in my opinion. After a few runs down the beginner slope I stop next to an entangled Japanese guy who has skied right over/into a child. It's not the mess that grabs my attention though; it's the odd serenity on the child's face. Not a blink, not a cry, nothing, the eyes are closed but not squeezed tight. That said the Japanese guy wasn't moving much either and there they lay for something like 5 minutes. It eventually gets so hot that I contemplate snowboarding in my thermals alone. My friend hurts his knee.
Sunday night is spent mingling with the locals at the bar (maybe 6 people there) where we run into a guy named Shane who looks and acts like my friend's friend Shane. Also he is wearing a sweater I own that I never wear since whilst good in principal doesn't work with anything I own. It doesn't look good on him either. On the way out of the bar a Japanese guy stumbles into me in the middle of an empty pub. Guess who it is???
Monday is fairly uneventful. Another early day not that it's particularly relevant since I haven't slept anyway. I end up running into another Australian whose friend also injured themselves so we brave the elements alone fighting back wolves on the way to find a sandwich in the ah kitchen thing, oh and red bulls for fighting off cannibals. Unfortunately though the mountain is closed due to some freaky weather with strong winds that scour the snow until it is coarse and abrasive. When the wind blows it carries tiny shards of ice that bite at the skin and makes me smile, its nice in a stingy way.
I head back to the motel and wander around town for a few hours doing handstands and cartwheels. I buy an apple from a store and end up standing behind the same guy I met up at the mountain. I find a broken spoon and crave dearly for it but feel wrong shifting it from its random falling so leave it where it lays.
Blah blah blah I get on a plane and go home.
That's pretty much it. In conclusion snowboarding is awesome and I'm going back next winter for at least 2 weeks.