Ghost Ship

I have arrived safely in Hokkaido. I'm currently sitting at Fulbrighter and Princeton-grad John Kim's desk in a forest research station in the town of Tomakomai (John's topic is an ecological study of the forest ecosystem; something about how typhoon damage changes the spread of nutrients from stream to forest? Or something? Let me ask him when he comes back into the room). I got to Hokkaido around 10:30 AM today, and it is pretty icy and freezing here, but a nice change of scenery. John has this little Suzuki Alto that he's renting and the front fender is dented and the right rear passenger door is destroyed because yesterday he got into not one, but two accidents. Luckily, he sprung for the insurance. At his apartment, you have to shut off the water at night because otherwise the pipes freeze and explode (my building's auto-shutoff system would probably be too annoying here since the water would shut itself off constantly); unfortunately, one of the tenants forgot last night and the pipes exploded, spilling water all over the garage underneath the building and freezing John's parking space solid. Parking the car is amusing.

The boat ride up to Hokkaido was surprisingly really nice. The boat was kind of like a really cheezy hotel. You know what I mean - the kind with teal and purple carpeting, wall tapestries of palm tree-lined beaches, flashing strings of lights, and a clear piano (yes, that's right a CLEAR piano). But it was the closest thing to a cruise I've ever been on (which, in retrospect, is actually quite sad). It was equipped with: an arcade, a mini theater (free!), a buffet restaurant, a gift shop, a snack counter, a bar, a karaoke room, a bunch of pianos all over the place for no particular reason (including that clear piano), a really nice ballroom/showroom that wasn't used for anything, tons of lounges with TVs (and I got to watch The Pianist and Battle Royale, two movies I love), vending machines everywhere, and even a public bath/sauna. And from 9-10 PM there was a simply lovely piano/violin duet performance. So while I only got the lowest level ticket, where you sleep on the floor in a room with a ton of other people, it was actually pretty nice and entertaining. But it's amazing to me that the boat makes any money at all because sometimes it seemed like their was one staff person on the ship for about every two passengers. The fact that the ship was simultaneously so empty and so much like a hotel from the 1970s or 80s made it feel like a horror movie - like The Shining mixed with the Titanic. Despite half-expecting to be murdered by a Japanese version of Jack Nicholson, I still slept decently.

Tomorrow: heading to Niseko to start the Fulbright ski trip madness.