After lunch four of us decided that we would use our last day with Shinkansen passes to try and catch Mt. Fuji before dusk. About 2 hours later we made it to a town called Fuji-san. When we asked the the train station directory personnel, “Fuji-san doku des-ka?” (‘where is Mt. Fuji?’ in Japanese). We got suspicious looks and decided that we were probably on our own to find the mountain, but that was OK because it’s a huge pile of rock and not easily misplaced or hidden.
When we emerged from the station we understood why the directory’s staff had been so confused. The buses running to Mt. Fuji had stopped two hours prior and the cloud cover was so bad that we couldn’t see an inch of Mt. Fuji in the distance. Defeated and tired, we got back on the shinkansen and rode another two hours back home to Tokyo. This entry has a lot to do with communication and a lack thereof. Not being able to speak Japanese in Japan definitely limited us because we were not able to find out the last bus run times or that Mt. Fuji is often too cloudy to see from far away.
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Though our trip to Mt. Fuji may have been hampered by the lack of a view, I was okay with hanging about a city in Japan that had a heavily industrial skyline. Coming from a city where industry had gouged the environment, it was perversely calming to see that Japan relates to my own roots in some ways. Nevertheless, being shooed out of the parking garage was less than exciting, until Cornish had flipped out…
Come on, really: “Fuji-san doku des-ka?” (’where is Mt. Fuji?’ in Japanese)…. That’s not how you say it. You asked “Were is Mr. Fuji?” What you should’ve of said was “Fuji yama doku desuka?” (yama meaning mountain). Oh well, at least you kinda found it on without help. (Still laughing at what you asked).
haha blame kneale. i don’t speak japanese.