Muikamachi

Regular readers will be aware that navigational error is a frequent element of the reports here, therefore it should come as no surprise to these readers that Rob and I are unable to locate the expressway entrance. We are unconcerned as Highway 17 appears to be a reasonably direct and toll-free substitute. Five hours and less than one hundred kilometres later, we are actively seeking the first available on-ramp. Once on the expressway, we fare much better and the timely discovery that Adam lives in Muikamachi rather than Nii-gata helps further still. In all, the 240 kilometre trip takes seven hours and completely exhausts our interest in ever hearing another Death Cab For Cutie or Jack Johnson song.

The next day we hit the ski hill. I am hopelessly rusty but it is fun nonetheless.

That night, Hnin Hnin (who escapes my camera) joins us and we attend the Naked Man Festival. The pictures are here. Be warned that Flickr allows me to know not only how many times each picture was viewed but also who viewed it and how much they enjoyed it. To summarize this festival, the participants get drunk, disrobe, then chant and march about the temple grounds while non-participants watch and eat octopus balls. Naturally, it is a huge success.

The rest of the time is spent on disagreements on the relative merit of Mario Lemieux and Wayne Gretzky, jam sessions, basketball and far too much eating, important activities indeed...