After nearly a week, the initial culture shock of Japan has simmered down to a dull torpor. I have proven to myself that I am in fact, every bit the dumb, demanding, American fat-ass I feel like. With so much chill time, and so little to do, or even eat, I am getting a little edgy. Okay, it’s obvious by this tiresome intro that the hotel-cell is getting to me. Here are a few pics that I feel somewhat illustrate this trip into the mountains of Japan—aside from our real purpose, the snowboarding.
Thought I was kidding when I said Foster and I were basically camping here. The cellphones here make American cell phones look like an old CB radio, but for some reason, technology has overlooked the bathroom.
Vending machines are keeping us hydrated. The cool ones even have refreshments of the adult variety. Now this, America needs.
Shoes off at the door is compulsory, everywhere. Here at the hotel, there are different slippers for each room. Green for the main floor. Blue for the bathroom, brown for the dining area. One slipper foul can lead to days of hard looks. We’ve been watching our step.
Even though they drive on the British side of the road (sorry Yogi) Japanese cars are sweet. All familiar brands we see in the states, but much cooler models. Definitely futuristic and miniature. There are tons of different cars, wagons, vans and combinations of the three screaming around the narrow streets. There are a few I might be able to fit in my board bag, so hopefully I can get one back to Cali.