So the time has come to talk, not of cabbages and kings (which one might well do if asked to talk about Korea), but instead to talk of Wasabi and Raw fish, and all of the things which make Japan the mighty island nation which it is today. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I and my mighty crew (Megan and Michelle) had as much success in Japan as these fellows , nor would I say that it was as disastrous as some previous visits by Americans to Japan . So, to summarize, not quite a full fledged Nagasaki, but closer to a mere Hiroshima. I kid, I kid. I kid because I love to laugh. Seriously Japan, (Il bon to the Koreans, and Nippon to the Japanese) is a fun place... when it's not monsoon season. In fact I would go so far as to say it's fantastic...when you have reservations for a hotel room. Really it's wonderful...when you speak Japanese. Friday was a fine day, if not for the pouring rain which greeted us after stepping off the boat- wait let me back up. We took a hydrofoil to from Korea to Japan, which takes only 3 1/2 hours to cross the Sea of Japan--oh I'm sorry, the South Sea, Korea does not recognize that slave name any longer. Smooth ride it was not. An elderly woman to my left vomited several times and later we found her sleeping in the Muster Station, a gathering spot at the back of the ship which displayed several non-sensical signs. One of them showed a family lined up from tallest to smallest, indicating this was indeed the spot where a family should establish once and for all the respective heights of its members. Another sign, marked Exit showed a man running, rather desperately. It was placed atop a door leading directly off of the ship and ostensibly into the water. This was our first indication that our trip to Japan was to be confusing at the very least. I felt I should take a picture of the sleeping lady, as she was laying atop some sort of makeshift tinfoil bed, but I thought it might be a little inappropriate, and besides the aluminum was interfering with my flash. The boat arrived safely enough and we set foot in Japan and took a bus to the downtown area, where the monsoon began in earnest. We decided that finding a hotel should be our first priority and so we began walking. These would prove to be the most pervasive and lingering themes of our brief visit: walking and finding a hotel. Soon enough, and a mere two hours later, we had found one. So, drenched but undeterred, we rested briefly and set out to see what Fukuoka had to offer. We really didn't know where to start, but luckily our map was sponsored by McDonalds, 7-11 and Seattle's Best coffee shop, so we made sure to pay each of these traditionally Japanese institutions at least a passing visit. In our wanderings we discovered the mighty Starbucks had also spread it's insidious corporate seed to the city. In fact there were three shops within 5 blocks of each other. Starbucks was to become our impromptu base of operations in the 2 days to follow, and had any of the stores had beds or even couches, we would have likely spent Saturday night there, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Eventually we happened upon an Indian restaurant. There we supped upon some of the most delicious food that any of us had tasted since coming to Asia, almost a year ago. Who knew you had to come to Japan to eat quality Indian food? After this we looked for some foreign-friendly watering holes. The first was called the "Happy Cock" (I can think of at least two things wrong with that title) which was kind of the "girls gone wild" bar of Fukuoka. There you can pay $30 (3,600 yen) and drink as much as you can for the night. We opted against this and settled for a couple of drinks and a complimentary shot of tequilla. Nothing too eventful here, though some table dancing ensued--guess who wasn't involved? Then we went to a foreign owned establishment called "The White Room" or maybe it was "The Dark Room," I don't remember which. I'd opt for the latter because it was poorly lit and didn't wasn't playing the classic Cream tune. This place featured some interesting designs, but few interesting people. We sat in an area which had a Roman bachanallia reproduction on one wall and a Dali reproduction on the other. Although there were plenty of places in Fukuoka that were stylistically Japanese, we seemed to be finding mostly places of Western design and influence. We hoped that Saturday's trip to the mall would prove more culturally insightful--our 7-11 map suggested it might. Little did we know that Saturday, which began promisingly with an Iced Latte from Starbucks would end tragically with blistered feet and wet socks and shattered dreams.

to be continued