Mysteries of the Human Body (人体の不思議展)

There are few things as disturbing to the average human being as seeing a fellow citizen sliced open, hacked up, organs rearranged, and otherwise disemboweled and disrespected. As it stands these days, one shouldn’t usually be able to view a contemporary’s insides protruding from an open chest cavity, nor have to pull back at the sight of an acquaintance’s entire body gruesomely cut lengthwise with buzzsaws into 7 or 8 long strands of used-to-be-alive-human flesh. One shouldn’t have the opportunity to remark upon bodies with skin peeled off, revealing muscle and reddish tissues beneath, with chunks of meat and organs removed for reasons of “scientific curiosity”.
One certainly shouldn’t be able to hold a fellow being’s naked brain in one’s hand, noting the gummy, weightiness of it. Not if he were alive, anyway.

Luckily for us, and all those who come the visit the mutilated bodies of the now rather famous (or is it perhaps infamous?) blending of science, art and surgical precision that is the Mysteries of the Human Body exhibit, the defamed corpses alluded to above are in fact quite dead. Which is good, because they wouldn’t want me poking around their internal organs (at least, not without permission) were they still alive.

The astonishing work done by the craftsman and surgeons who put together this exhibition is mightily impressive. Corpses have been preserved via a special mummification-like drying technique and assiduously removed of specific organs, whether it be a completely intact set of blood vessels, a brain, a set of smoke-blackened lungs, or a complete splaying of major muscle groups and tendons, revealing the bone structures beneath.

A curious journey through the artform of the human form, the exhibit puts one very directly in touch (literally, even) with one’s biological structure, the human being’s ultimately physical nature. It is a fabulous adventure. Deceased fetuses in various stages of arrested development adorn one display case while in another, some poor fellow’s face has been removed and chest cavity torn open, exposing his innards for all to see. Still another showcases a few freeze-dried penises and lumps of cancerous growths in someone’s brain, lungs, liver and other various meaty places. There is also a well-preserved brain for eager participants to hold in their hands and admire the weight of it. Finally, there is one particularly well-preserved specimen, removed of all its skin, and mummified to the point of almost beef jerky-ness, that is apparently the “display model”, open for all to touch, prod, poke, etc. This exhibit basically shows you all the things you don’t ever want done to your own body (but how fascinating it is to see it done to someone else’s!).

I wonder if he's okay....

whoa.

Ouch.

Yes, they're real and dead.

Real Ultimate Power

After today’s school-shaking experience, the ol’ earthquake counter is up to a rather respectable 18 (since my arrival in August 2005).

Tunes

At long last, I have managed to secure myself a prominent spot in a local orchestral group. Finally, I have a clever excuse to wear a tuxedo and mess about with old classics like Sibelius’ Finlandia, Grieg’s In The Hall of the Mountain King and others. Understanding basic instructions is no problem, but the conductor’s somewhat in-depth explanations of how to play certain sections in a certain way and just why it’s important to do so elude me approximately 100% of the time (as he speaks in very fast Japanese).
But it makes little difference really, as I’m somewhat of a local hero just for being there, regardless of whether I scratch and scrape away like nails on a chalkboard or glide around the fingerboard with the grace and finesse of a figure skater. I’m young, I’m foreign, I’m doing something that only Japanese do (i.e. involvement in the local community), and this makes it very exciting for all those concerned.

It’s also a great way for me to not suck at violin.

The Shirking of Work (or Mad Snowboardery)

Upon return to work, I decided it would be prudent to engage in a little peer mentoring. Thus it came to be that after working a scant 2 days, I made arrangements to sneak off and go snowboarding with the gym teacher from my school. 6 o’ the clock on a cold January morning, we met in the dark for a 2.5 hour trip up into the mountains.
There are perhaps few things as invigorating as watching a range of mountains begin to loom closer and closer in the distance as you drive towards them…save hopping on a snowboard and sliding down them at great speed (which was soon to come).
The conversation was of course interesting, my mangled Japanese bridging the gap between Mr. Makiyama’s complete inability to use English and 0% rate of comprehension. Interesting, to say the least.
As we began to make our way up the winding mountain roads towards the still far-off ski slopes, it began to snow. My dream of (and complete and utter need for) winter had finally been fulfilled.
Chains securely fastened on the tires, we slid dangerously down the final few kilometres of road until, in the middle of a fabulous blizzard, we arrived at the foot of Daikura ski resort (located fairly deep within the Azuma mountain range), whereupon boarding and happiness of all kinds proceeded to take place.
Apres le boarding, we made our way to a nearby onsen, relaxing in the outdoor baths as the snowflakes fluffed down from above.


Winter simply kicks the shit out of summer.

Oshima Adventuring

About a hundred clicks south of Tokyo Bay lies the volcanic island of Oshima, a 90 square kilometre chunk of rock peeking up above the Pacific. During a large eruption of Oshima’s Mt. Mihara in November of 1986, lava fountains were recorded over 1600m high. Since this is probably the closest volcano to me (out of a possible 94 across the country), I naturally had to go check it out.

This is Oshima.

After about 8 hours of boating adventure and breathing the clean Pacific sea air, Oshima was at last reached. Rainy and misty, on account of the impending typhoon, one brave hero courageously took on the task of scaling the beastly mountain looming menacingly over his tiny Japanese style inn. Unfortunately, our hero got lost in the mist. But this proved useful as it became an excellent opportunity for poses of might and manliness.

Righteous.

Even more righteous.

As the typhoon swept in, the waves grew to the point where the boats could no longer make port. As the winds became stronger and stronger, the pier itself began drown under the waves. Thinking logically, our hero decided to go and test the might of the waves face to face and made his way down the pier…where he was thoroughly soaked and almost swept out to sea.

Looks like fun.

An announcement from loudspeakers atop of buildings declared that the typhoon was nigh, and that all boats were returning to Tokyo. So he sat with his grinch-fingers excitedly drumming, finding out now that no ferries were coming…
Happily stranded, our hero thought, “Sweet”, since all the weaker touristy pions had already deserted the island he now had it almost all to himself. Settling in for the night, eating tasty fish and various strange unmentionables (which he was assured were indeed food), our hero vowed to conquer the mountain on the morn, and made his way to the onsen (Japanese style baths).

The fooding.

The next day, the wind was so strong that the loudspeakers announced that driving on the island was unsafe. A good day for a cruise down the strip, thought our hero. Winds were the strongest he had ever seen. Salt breeze in the air, the lift created by his jacket resulting in a near-flight experience, our hero stood watching the waves roll in with hypercivic glee.

The edge of the world.

Later, as the sun began its inevitable journey back to North and South America, the time was right for a scaling of the volcano proper. Wind practically knocking him over as he heroically mounted the side of the giant rock, our hero clambered to the peak of the caldera, basking in the glory of the seascape (Mt. Fuji rising up proudly in the distance). Unspeakable awesomeness. A just reward for such a climb.


Volcanoes scaled to date: 1 (and counting)

Glory shot.

Deep in the lands of Mordor.

Felled by orcs.

oppressing the locals