You know, I think she really captured my receding hairline.

Illustration © Kaori, age six. All rights reserved.

Yeah, she knows how to wink. I checked.

I just wanted to take this opportunity to say that an impressive number of you posted comments last week, and that I really appreciate it. As regular readers can probably tell by now, I generally don't get out all that much, either by way of sightseeing or by socializing. So your comments are sometimes like little tiny care packages for me, and they cheer me up. So, thanks.

Yes, I'll try to keep finding interesting things to take pictures of.

Speaking of comments, some of you have no doubt noticed the new "Recent comments" feature amongst the navigation links. (Strictly speaking, it's not quite a list of the three most recent comments—it's a list of the last comments of the three most recent threads, but close enough.) Anyway, this'll make it easier to see if anyone's made any witty remarks since the last time you visited.

Last but not least, at the bottom of the nav area you'll find a little box where you can "subscribe" to the Account, meaning that you can receive a little auto-generated e-mail letting you know whenever this blog gets updated. It's useful for people who've become weary of my random posting schedule.

The Westernized port city of Yokohama is a relaxing change from the urban chaos of downtown Tokyo, and it also contains the largest Chinatown in Japan. But that's not what made me reach for the camera.

The one, the only... Mount Fuji.

In this case. the wide-angle lens does my photo a great disservice, as it makes the mountain look smaller. It was anything but. Even from 60 miles away, when you spot Mt. Fuji, you stop what you're doing and stare. Its stark, majestic profile is all the more impressive due to the fact that most days of the year, it's enshrouded in clouds. Even Taki was impressed. "I've never seen Fuji from Yokohama before," he whispered.

It was a memorable way to end a memorable weekend. A cab took me to the train station a few moments later, and after suitably heartfelt goodbyes to my generous host, I headed home.

There are many flavors of Buddhism, but Zen is the one Japan can claim as its own. It will not surprise my readers to know that it's the spiritual philosophy I've always found most appealing—abandoning, as it does, any attempt to address the afterlife, good vs. evil, the origin of mankind or even the sacred and the profane. Zen is simply an axiom: if you can truly accept the inevitability of your own death, the transient nature of all things and the meaninglessness of existence, only then will you be able to truly experience each moment and appreciate the beauty that this world has to offer. I have no difficulty believing this to be true.

To those Buddhists devoted to achieving Enlightenment along this path, a good way to begin would be with a place like the Engaku monastery, a sprawling compound filled with serene temples, barracks, worship halls and the imposing San-Mon gate that looms over all those set foot onto its grounds. The Zen style of Buddhism is known for its austere sensibilities, but not because it's an austere religion. Standing in a place like Engaku makes it all too clear that Zen's renowned minimalism is ultimately a means of celebrating the beauty of everything else.

I took these pictures because I can't convey in writing the trancendent splendor of this place. Every tree, every pond, every rock and stone at Engaku-Ji has been guided to the spot most conducive to being at peace with the world. A digital camera can only do so much, but I hope I've managed to capture some small hint of this.

Three photos, one moment. More on this magnificent Zen monastery tomorrow.

Hase-dera is a thousand-year-old temple devoted to Kannon, the goddess of mercy. At 30 feet, Kannon's imposing figure is the largest wooden sculpture in all of Japan. I confess I'd never heard of Kannon before, but apparently she's a representation of the bodhisattva Avalokitesvara with eleven heads. You'll have to settle for that description, since photography was not allowed.

Nearby was the small Jizo temple, outside which thousands of tiny statuettes of the bodhisattva Jizo stand and pray for the souls of aborted, stillborn and miscarried children. No photos from me, but I found one elsewhere.

It was still early in the day (Taki wisely make me get up early for all this) so I wasn't all that tired, but the blazing sun and lackluster digital camera inspired the worst kind of tomfoolery. Most of the pictures I took at this site were created by deliberately angling the camera lens into the sunlight to create "cool" lighting effects. I doubt National Geographic will be calling anytime soon, but maybe you'll like 'em.

Must... create... cheesy... lens-flare...

It's a digital camera, yet somehow I'm using tungsten-balanced film.

All camera-tricks aside, that's some really impressive landscaping.

To truly appreciate how immense the Kamakura Daibutsu is, you have to consider the name itself: "Daibutsu." In Japanese, this literally translates to "Big Buddha."

It's not the sort of word you'd use to refer to a medium-sized Buddha.

It was a bright, cloudless day, and thanks to my unconventional Nova schedule, it was a Tuesday. On weekends, as you might imagine, the Daibutsu is mobbed by tourists. But on Tuesday it was sunny, quiet and peaceful, perfect conditions for hanging with the Buddha.

Postcards in the gift shop, eat your hearts out.		The Daibutsu is really, really big.		He may look majestic and placid on the outside, but he's actually hollow—on the inside he's dark and scary. It's a metaphor.

Recently, I started receiving e-mails from Professor Taki Kuroda, an old friend of my dad's. Now retired, Taki (as he insisted I call him) enthusiastically invited me to his home in Yokohama within days after finding out I was working in Tokyo. To preserve my family honor, I accepted.

Yokohama is Japan's most famous port city, the site of Commodore Matthew Perry's historic 1854 landing and home to dozens of historical museums which I fortunately managed to avoid visiting. Instead, I was taken to nearby Kamakura, home to an overwhelming number of Shinto and Buddhist temples, including the Daibutsu, Japan's second-largest Buddha statue.

I can understand if the prospect of a day-long Shinto-Buddhist shrine-o-rama sounds less than invigorating, but in truth, under Kamakura's blazing September sun and tropical humidity, wandering slowly through temples and monasteries is just about the only thing that makes sense. The weather lent a subtly spiritual overtone to the proceedings, though I'm sure the other seasons have their own magic.

I'm not much for picture-taking, but Taki had a digital camera and I have a blog, so I tried to take a few snapshots where the opportunities presented themselves.

The city of Kamakura turned out to be a cross between Santa Monica and what I assume Honolulu looks like.

Always in pairs, one open-mouthed, the other baring teeth, the Goma-Inu stand guard outside the Shinto shrines. I decided the toothy one projected the more convincing air of menace. Note that "Goma-Inu" means "lion-dog," as opposed to "frog-pig," which would have been my guess.

I survived the dreaded Nova Kids' Training yesterday. Mostly eight hours of learning how to sing the "Let's Quietly Sit Down in a Circle" song and how to make 12 different games out of memorizing the days of the week. I don't know when my first actual Kids' class is, but I'd bet good money that I've already had one by the time you read this. Nova is not known for its relaxed, leisurely pace.

One cool thing that did happen was that I made the acquaintance of a charming British woman with the unlikely name of Keyah Steele and a sultry accent strongly reminiscent of Diana Rigg. It turns out she's a former theatre major, so I might have found a potential voice actor well ahead of schedule.

(For the perplexed: I've been scripting an animation project for the last year and a half. I'm only a few months away from a final screenplay, at which point I may elect to begin preliminary animation work.)

As mentioned in the previous entry, the apartment of former roomate Chuck has been reassigned, and severely jet-lagged new roommate Simon is now part of the Nova family. Welcome aboard.