The New Samurai

  “Thanks, Yoshi... I feel much better now. Safer. I think it’s working already.”

  Yoshi looked delighted.

  “I feel it too, Sam-san. You will have much luck this year.”

  “So, can we please go and have some breakfast now?” said Paul.

  The tension was broken and they trooped off to Yoshi’s favourite place for the usual egg and bacon pastries and thin coffee. Paul muttered under his breath, having hoped for something a little stronger, and Helen laughed.

  Tara linked her arm through Sam’s.

  “Are you feeling luckier now?”

  “Amazingly, yes!” he said, kissing her quickly. “Although the good luck started a few days ago, my birthday is looking decidedly fortunate.”

  Tara laughed. “You’ll have to wait for your present.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Not even a quick look?”

  She smiled. “Maybe a quick one.”

  They crowded into the coffee shop. Yoshi was bouncing up and down in his seat.

  “All is well now, Sam-san. And you born in Year of the Dragon. Very auspicious. Tatsu mean very brave.”

  Sam shook his head and frowned. “No, I don’t think so – not the Year of the Dragon. I’m pretty sure I was born in the Year of the Rabbit. My language tutor told me that when I first came here.”

  “No, no!” said Yoshi. “You 25: you must be Year of Dragon!”

  “Hang on a minute,” said Helen, a slow smile stretching across her face. “What year were you born, Sam?”

  Sam told them and Yoshi stared at him, disbelievingly.

  “I think I know what’s going on here,” said Helen, smugly. “Yoshi is thinking in Asian counting but Sam is working on the European system.”

  Her audience looked equally baffled.

  “Am I the only one who actually reads the textbooks?” she complained. “Japanese people count the year they’re born as one, not zero. So in Japanese counting, Sam, you’ll be 26 this year. You’ve already had your year of bad luck.”

  Tara hooted and Paul squawked. Sam choked on his coffee and Helen tried not to laugh at Yoshi’s chagrined expression.

  “Never mind, Yoshi, mate,” said Sam, “I’ve got another week left of being 24 – or is it 25 – so at least now I won’t break my leg when we climb Mount Fuji next Saturday.”

  Yoshi smiled weakly and sighed. “Yes, is good thing, Sam-san.”

  Sam’s Blog

  Hi everyone!

  Thanks for your emails and messages. Thanks for the card, Fi, and give Rosa a big hug for me.

  Yep, that was a pretty amazing birthday: I climbed Mount Fuji, and lived to tell the tale.

  The official climbing season is July and August so we were a bit late in the year. All that really means is that some of the ‘rest’ places on the route are closed and there’s an increased risk of bad weather: not so much in September, and it mostly meant that there were fewer people climbing the day we turned up. But after October, there’s a lot of snow and the risk of avalanches, as well as high winds.

  About 3,000 people a day climb in season but it was much quieter when we did it. The Japanese call the mountain Fuji-san, an honorific that honours the mountain as one of the three ‘Holy Mountains’ (along with Mount Tate and Mount Haku). And it is high: all those postcards with the snow on the top – they’re not all CGI-ed. The official height is 3,776 metres (which makes it nearly four times as high as Snowdon). Yoshi warned us that the temperature could be below freezing, especially as we planned to do most of the hike at night. I know that sounds a bit weird, but the tradition is to be on the summit to see the sunrise.

  We got the bus from Shinjuku all the way to the fifth station. The mountain is divided into 10 stations, or rest places, so it was a pretty good place to start – already halfway up. Or at least that’s what Helen was hoping. She was pretty nervous about whether or not she’d be able to do it but Yoshi promised to carry her if it got too much. I’m not sure who was going to carry him.

  One thing that really surprised me was the industrialisation around the base of the mountain. It’s supposed to be a holy place, but there were a lot of factories rooted in swathes of concrete, belching out smoke. So much for the benefits of being sacred.

  There are several different routes up and we took the Kawaguchi trail. We reckoned between five to seven hours for the ascent, then rest for a couple of hours and three to five hours back down. That was the theory.

  They get so many hikers that there are separate, one-way routes for the ascent and descent: needless to say we took the wrong one down...

  We got to the fifth station about 6 o’clock in the evening and ate some over-priced, soggy noodles. Helen had a rucksack full of chocolate so we filled up on those instead. For some reason she likes these cherry-flavoured KitKats. Dear god, they are so sweet. I could feel my tooth enamel dissolving on impact. Sylvie – I promise I’ll bring you some back.

  We’d all got head torches to wear for the hours of darkness, but we didn’t need them straightaway. Oh, and the other reason to go at this time is that you’re more likely to get a clear view in the morning without clouds. It would be a real bummer to go all that way and see nothing. Like the time I went to Hong Kong on tour and went up the Peak in a fog bank. Yeah.

  There was a load of tat you could buy in the souvenir shop and Yoshi bought one of those gnarled walking sticks like you see old geezers carry in Austria or somewhere like that. He got some stick for that (sorry!) but he had the last laugh when it came in really handy later on.

  It was quite easy at the start of the trail but soon got steeper and very rocky. Fuji looks smooth from a distance, but it really did feel like climbing a volcano after a while. We were warned to look out for gusts of winds and falling rocks. I have no idea how you’re supposed to ‘look out’ for those and no-one wore hard hats. But since I’ve had a blessing at a Shinto shrine, I reckon I’m covered. And the others are supposed to be covered by my ‘good luck’ too – all for the princely sum of about £12. Bargain!

  The hardest thing was that as we climbed, the air got thinner. Helen was getting a bit short of breath, which was a worry, but we took it slowly and steadily and she seemed alright as she got used to the altitude. Apparently people can get altitude sickness up here and the only cure is to just go back down. Luckily we didn’t need to do that.

  All I can say is thank god I had my walking boots with me. The trail got really rough, covered in pieces of sharp lava. Paul was walking in trainers and these got ripped to shreds, particularly on the descent.

  We stopped for water and some more of Helen’s chocolate after a couple of hours (her backpack was getting lighter by the minute). There was a dad there with a couple of kids who looked about seven and ten. They were stretched out on a piece of plastic sheeting, fast asleep. We chatted to him for a while and he said they’d be passing us on the route because three Japanese were worth 30 gaijin, etc etc. We didn’t see them again so I don’t know if they made it later on in the day.

  Even when it got dark we didn’t need the head torches because the moon came out from behind the clouds. All the colours were leached out so we were just walking through this lunar landscape in complete silence.

  When we got to the eighth station it was getting pretty steep. The little tourist place was selling bottles of oxygen! You could even go and have a kip for a few quid in one of the rooms they have, but we just sat outside and drank some tea (and ate more chocolate). There were a few people around but mostly it was pretty quiet.

  Just a quick word about the bogs as I know this is a source of deep interest to you, Keith. On the mountain they were mixed, very continental. Yoshi says that’s not uncommon in rural areas but it was a bit of a surprise to find that on Mount Fuji. There were two urinals next to the door (with a great view when the door opened!) and a couple of stalls with squat toilets for the women folk. Nice.

  We could see we were nearing the top and were only just in time. The stars slowly disappeared a
nd the sky filled with light. We came round the final curve, Yoshi cantering at the front, Helen bringing up the rear, and there were some steps carved into the side just in front of a Torii gate. And, you guessed it, another hut full of tourist tat. Not quite what I was expecting. There was a guy with a branding iron and he was marking the walking sticks saying ‘sunrise on Fuji-san’ in Kanji. For a fee, of course. I think he was a priest. Anyway, that’s why Yoshi bought the walking stick. He says he’s going to show it to his children and grandchildren one day. He also claims he’ll climb Tate and Haku, too, one day. Perhaps he’ll get another brand saying ‘I walked Fuji-san with four gaijin’. If so, he’s too polite to admit it.

  There was even a post office at the summit! People were queuing up to send postcards so I joined the line and did the same. Coming to you any day now! Prepare to be awed and inspired!

  When the sun was fully risen, it was worth the dust and sweat and tired muscles and tourist tat. The view was uninterrupted all the way to the sea, the horizon soft, so I couldn’t tell where the land ended and the sea began.

  Yoshi says that Japan was created when the gods dipped a coral sword into the sea and four shining drops of water created the islands of Japan. Looking out from Fuji-san at sunrise, it seemed possible.

  It was a real zen moment watching the sun rise slowly. Yoshi started praying and it was really moving. Even Paul was stopped talking for a moment.

  Helen decided she wanted to head back down straight away. I think she was feeling the altitude although she wasn’t admitting to it. Tara went back with her but I stayed with Paul and Yoshi so we could walk round the crater at the top.

  Apparently Japanese people say, “You are wise to climb Fuji once and a fool to climb it twice”. That’s because hardly anyone does it apparently! Most of the climbers seemed to be other gaijin. I think that’s why Yoshi was so proud of himself. Well, we all were.

  We started making our way down, intending to catch up with Tara and Helen. It was hard work on the knees – a bit like running on scree or skiing through powder snow. Anyway, at some point we took the wrong trail and missed them. We ended up having to walk round a huge arc of Fuji’s base to get back to the coach park. We had water, but Helen had all the chocolate. We were all pretty hungry by the time we caught up with them again.

  So that was my birthday: no alcohol, not much food, but the most amazing experience. (And the food and alcohol came later;).)

  Sayonara from the Land of a Thousand Autumns.

  It was Sunday, the day after the hike up Mount Fuji. They got back to the hostel tired but happy and covered in Fuji larva-dust.

  First port of call were the showers, followed by a breakfast (or maybe lunch) of rice and fish at a local restaurant. Helen was drooping over her dipping sauces and in danger of falling asleep in her miso soup.

  Yoshi proudly carried his walking stick everywhere, showing it to the staff at the restaurant. Even the chef came out to see and admire.

  “I really think I need to sleep, chaps,” said Helen, yawning widely.

  “But is Sam’s birthday!” said Yoshi, whose energy seemed unstoppable.

  “I can wait till later,” said Sam, smiling. “No problem. Maybe we could meet up later for a drink?”

  Tara raised her eyebrows. “It’ll have to be a quick drink.”

  “Oh,” said Sam, catching her tone. “Right. A quick drink later.”

  Helen laughed. “As if we couldn’t guess. Tara, would it be more convenient for you if we celebrated Sam’s birthday tomorrow?”

  Tara grinned. “Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Helen.”

  Yoshi looked disappointed, but a deferred celebration was almost as good as immediate gratification.

  They trooped back to the hostel and, as usual, Tara went up to Sam’s room with him. In truth, men weren’t supposed to visit the women’s floors, so this was their only option.

  Sam rolled out the futon bed and fetched the pillows down from on top of the wardrobe where they were stored during the day.

  “Don’t get too comfortable,” said Tara. “We’re not staying long.”

  “We’re not?” said Sam, looking disappointed.

  She laughed at his expression.

  “Well, we’ve got a couple of hours, but I gotta say, I’m tuckered out. I think we should get a couple of hours sleep first. And I mean sleep.” She paused. “Your face is a picture, Sam. Look, I’ve got something kinda fun planned, but it’ll spoil it if we’re both half-dead from lack of sleep.”

  He raised his hands in defeat.

  “Okay, I give in. Time to sleep.”

  He pulled her down onto the futon. “Just a kiss first? It is my birthday...”

  She laughed and flopped down next to him.

  “Just set your alarm for 9 pm,” she said.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

  “One kiss!” she reminded him. “Remember?!”

  “Mmm,” he said, his lips on her neck. “My memory isn’t that good...”

  When Sam’s alarm went off they were both fast asleep. Sam felt confused at first and Tara was grumpy.

  “I told you we should have got some more sleep,” she said, crossly. “And don’t give me that birthday excuse – that’s pretty old now.”

  Sam yawned and smiled. “I thought it would be good for at least another three or four hours. I’ve got to get my money’s worth.”

  “You’re not paying me,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

  Then a thought occurred to her.

  “By the way, when we were playing that drinking game, you never answered your question: about being paid for sex. Have you? Ever?”

  A challenging smile played across Sam’s face. “I don’t think I’m going to answer that!”

  “Sam!”

  “Nope. I’m not answering that question sober.” He paused. “You’ll have to get me drunk and have your wicked way with me.”

  “Fine!” she snorted. “So I’ll ask you later. Will you tell me?”

  He smiled. “Maybe. You’ll have to wait and see.”

  He pulled his jeans and a shirt from the pile, then looked at her.

  “Er, do I need anything special for this evening or are jeans okay?”

  She smiled. “Jeans are fine: but you’ll need your clobber for work tomorrow.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Intrigued, Sam folded his work clothes neatly and stuffed them into his backpack along with a couple of notebooks and the memory stick that held his school work.

  “Do I need anything else?”

  She smiled. “Nope, that should do it. I’ve got to go and get my gear. Meet me in reception in ten.”

  He was waiting for her at the entrance to the hostel when Helen stumbled past, yawning.

  “Off out?”

  “Yes. I don’t suppose Tara told you where she’s taking me?”

  Helen smiled. “Ah, of course! I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. And then Tara would kill me. All I’m saying is that you’ll enjoy yourself. Have fun!”

  She walked, off smiling to herself.

  Tara arrived carrying a large hold-all filled with her smart work clothes, files and textbooks. Even wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt she turned heads. Sam couldn’t stop a smile spreading across his face when he saw her.

  She winked at him.

  “Follow me!”

  First stop was the subway. It was filled with people on their way home from an afternoon of shopping and a night of drinking, ready to start the week of work – or school – again.

  They got off in Shinjuku, which was where most of their night outs started, but Tara surprised Sam by leading him in a direction away from their usual stamping ground. It soon became clear that they were in Tokyo’s red light district. Several women tried to grab Sam’s arm, promising him a ‘good time’ but Tara shooed them away.

  Sam started to feel uncomfortable.
He hoped Tara wasn’t taking him to see a show, God forbid, a strip show. It would just feel weird watching one with a girlfriend. He didn’t think that was Tara’s scene, but then he wondered just how well he really knew her.

  If her behaviour had surprised him so far, it was nothing to how he felt when she stopped outside a huge, white edifice, built in the style of a fairytale castle, à la Disney. If Disney castles were nine-storey, windowless affairs, decorated in fluorescent lights and pink neon.

  “We’re here,” she said. “This is it.”

  Her smile faded as she read the doubt on his face.

  “Where are we?”

  “It’s... it’s a Love Hotel,” she said, softly. “I thought it would be... fun... well, funny.”

  “You’ve brought me to a Love Hotel for my birthday?”

  He stared at her, incredulously.

  She nodded, biting her lip.

  “We don’t have to stay,” she mumbled.

  “Are you kidding?” he said, a huge grin spreading across his face. “This is... this is... I don’t know what this is, but it’s brilliant! I’ve always wondered what one of these places would be like!”

  “Oh!”

  She smiled in relief.

  “I thought for a moment... you’re really pleased?”

  He dropped his bag and kissed her recklessly, his own pulse rate breaking into a sprint as Tara’s breathing quickened.

  She pulled away from him, slightly breathless. “Maybe we should go inside now?”

  “Good idea,” he said, his voice almost rough. “After you.”

  The Love Hotel was a perfect example of its kind. In one of the most expensive cities in the world, young adults couldn’t afford to set up in their own flats until further on in their careers; sometimes not even after they were married. Sharing marital relations in a tiny flat where the room dividers were made of thick paper and the in-laws rolled out their futons just a few feet away, meant that hotels for romantic trysts had become commonplace. Although Sam didn’t really think that ‘commonplace’ could be ascribed to ‘Genji’s Love Motel’.

  The entrance was small and very discreet. Inside was a different story. The walls were decorated with blurry, soft focus, black-and-white images, set against a wallpaper of love hearts and popping champagne bottles.