Salon Wanderlust | Lost in Nagano, page 2

- - - - - - - - - -
T A B L E_T A L K
Riders share their experiences and thoughts on traveling by motorcycle in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk

R E C E N T L Y
Figure skating shocker
By Jonathan Broder
Lipinski upsets Kwan to take the gold. What happened? Skating expert Christine Brennan analyzes events on -- and off -- the ice in Nagano.
(02/20/98)
Flying away
By Cintra Wilson
I sold my soul to the scalpers to watch mechanized super-teens Michelle and Tara kiss ass?
(02/20/98)
Flying away
By Gary Kamiya
Triumph on the slopes -- and parties all night long
(02/19/98)
Scalpers, skiers and cultural schizophrenia
By Cintra Wilson
Our woman in Nagano checks out deluxe slopeside port-o-lets, "child hornet" snacks and other Olympic oddities
(02/19/98)
Cold war
By Gary Kamiya
The Czechs battle the Russians on ice
(02/18/98)

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Feature archives

LOST IN NAGANO _|_ page 2 of 2

We got to the foot of another slalom course and everybody anticipated getting off the bus, but for some reason, the bus driver didn't think so. He didn't want to open the doors. There was an argument with him in Japanese, and then a moment when all of the other displaced slalom-seekers and I finally mutinied, and got off the bus with him yelling at us disgustedly.
OK. We're at the event.
When I got to the security gate, the women with the arm bands told me, "You need to walk, 20 minute," and pointed down the hill.
"Is there another way?" I asked.
"Oh! Yes. Gondora." A gondola! Cool. I got all hot for the view.
"How do I get to the gondola?"
"You walk, 20 minute," they said, and pointed to the right. I thanked them and set out by myself toward the right. I had left Nagano station at 11 -- it was now 2; the race was beginning. I walked, totally alone, on this wild mountain road, through a long slushy tunnel with slit windows, musing that I would get lost and end up freezing for days, eating some fallen Slovenian tourist for sustenance until the helicopters found me.
Twenty minutes later I found, by following the herds of identically clad Japanese ski resort students, the gondola.
"You have?" asked the person running the gondola, pointing to a coveted media/athlete all-access badge that he wore around his neck.
"Uh, no," I said, worried he'd make me walk back to where I had just come from.
"OK," he said, and waved me through. The gondola ride was fantastic, like sitting in a little Willy Wonka plexiglass egg for 10 minutes, high over the world. I could see the event taking place miles below, with spectators like neon confetti all over the mountain face. I was sorry when it ended. "How do I get to the race?" I asked, when I got out of the gondola.
"You walk 10 minute," said the girl in the arm band.
I nearly started crying.
"Only 10 minute!" she said, and indicated a kind of path at her left. I started walking. I shortly realized that she had pointed me down a ski slope when a dozen or so people started skiing past me at breakneck speeds. I inched my way down the hill, carefully. I was on such a strange part of the mountain that I seemed to be completely alone whenever the skiers vanished past me around a corner. The dripping trees were arched over my head and I was crunching down the white path, half expecting to see Ichabod Crane come careening past in a stagecoach, pursued by the Headless Horseman.
Ten minutes later I was standing (sort of) next to the men's slalom race! There were no seats, no water, no restrooms. I stuck my coat into a pile of snow and sat on it. I could hear a loudspeaker, announcing the next athlete in Japanese. Then the fans' three-note kazoos started blowing, a sure indication that another skier was starting down the course. (After a while, you hear those three-note horns all the time, even when you're sleeping. They are like trying to get rid of the feel of the sea in your knees after you've been on a boat all day, or the ring in your head after a rock concert.) Sure enough: zop! I saw a fluorescent orange blur move by at 105 miles an hour. A slalomist! Wow.
Five minutes later I saw another blur, this time hot pink!
Another, zhip! Yellow, accompanied by lots of announcements in Japanese about who the blurs were, what country they represented. I looked at my watch -- 3:15. There was still another 45 minutes of the race, but I realized, with cold, grim certainty, that if I didn't leave right then, I would get stuck in the crowds and remain foodless on the mountain until 8 or 9 p.m. There was no question.
I was allowed to go down that part of the hill on a ski lift, another peak moment for incredible views of white mountains and tall trees and valleys below melting into prismic rivers. When I got off the ski lift, nobody knew where the shuttle bus was. There were no signs anywhere.
Two hours later, I was back in Nagano, exhausted at a restaurant. I want to reprint this page of the Japanese/English menu for you, exactly, spelling and all, 100 percent true:

KURAGE SU - Vinegared jelleyfish
AYU MISOZUKE - A Raw Riverfish that is soaked in miso for two months.
INAGO - Locusts wok-fried in sweet "soy" mixture
HACHI NOKO - Bee larva wok-fried in sweet "soy" mixture
BASASHI - Sliced raw horse
IKAWATA - Squid Internal Guts (a little difficult for the unnaccustomed)

OK.
SALON | Feb. 20, 1998


- - - - - - - - - - T A B L E_T A L K Riders share their experiences and thoughts on traveling by motorcycle in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk R E C E N T L Y Figure skating shocker By Jonathan Broder Lipinski upsets Kwan to take the gold. What happened? Skating expert Christine Brennan analyzes events on -- and off -- the ice in Nagano. (02/20/98) Flying away By Cintra Wilson I sold my soul to the scalpers to watch mechanized super-teens Michelle and Tara kiss ass? (02/20/98) Flying away By Gary Kamiya Triumph on the slopes -- and parties all night long (02/19/98) Scalpers, skiers and cultural schizophrenia By Cintra Wilson Our woman in Nagano checks out deluxe slopeside port-o-lets, "child hornet" snacks and other Olympic oddities (02/19/98) Cold war By Gary Kamiya The Czechs battle the Russians on ice (02/18/98) Browse the Feature archives		LOST IN NAGANO _\|_ page 2 of 2 We got to the foot of another slalom course and everybody anticipated getting off the bus, but for some reason, the bus driver didn't think so. He didn't want to open the doors. There was an argument with him in Japanese, and then a moment when all of the other displaced slalom-seekers and I finally mutinied, and got off the bus with him yelling at us disgustedly. OK. We're at the event. When I got to the security gate, the women with the arm bands told me, "You need to walk, 20 minute," and pointed down the hill. "Is there another way?" I asked. "Oh! Yes. Gondora." A gondola! Cool. I got all hot for the view. "How do I get to the gondola?" "You walk, 20 minute," they said, and pointed to the right. I thanked them and set out by myself toward the right. I had left Nagano station at 11 -- it was now 2; the race was beginning. I walked, totally alone, on this wild mountain road, through a long slushy tunnel with slit windows, musing that I would get lost and end up freezing for days, eating some fallen Slovenian tourist for sustenance until the helicopters found me. Twenty minutes later I found, by following the herds of identically clad Japanese ski resort students, the gondola. "You have?" asked the person running the gondola, pointing to a coveted media/athlete all-access badge that he wore around his neck. "Uh, no," I said, worried he'd make me walk back to where I had just come from. "OK," he said, and waved me through. The gondola ride was fantastic, like sitting in a little Willy Wonka plexiglass egg for 10 minutes, high over the world. I could see the event taking place miles below, with spectators like neon confetti all over the mountain face. I was sorry when it ended. "How do I get to the race?" I asked, when I got out of the gondola. "You walk 10 minute," said the girl in the arm band. I nearly started crying. "Only 10 minute!" she said, and indicated a kind of path at her left. I started walking. I shortly realized that she had pointed me down a ski slope when a dozen or so people started skiing past me at breakneck speeds. I inched my way down the hill, carefully. I was on such a strange part of the mountain that I seemed to be completely alone whenever the skiers vanished past me around a corner. The dripping trees were arched over my head and I was crunching down the white path, half expecting to see Ichabod Crane come careening past in a stagecoach, pursued by the Headless Horseman. Ten minutes later I was standing (sort of) next to the men's slalom race! There were no seats, no water, no restrooms. I stuck my coat into a pile of snow and sat on it. I could hear a loudspeaker, announcing the next athlete in Japanese. Then the fans' three-note kazoos started blowing, a sure indication that another skier was starting down the course. (After a while, you hear those three-note horns all the time, even when you're sleeping. They are like trying to get rid of the feel of the sea in your knees after you've been on a boat all day, or the ring in your head after a rock concert.) Sure enough: zop! I saw a fluorescent orange blur move by at 105 miles an hour. A slalomist! Wow. Five minutes later I saw another blur, this time hot pink! Another, zhip! Yellow, accompanied by lots of announcements in Japanese about who the blurs were, what country they represented. I looked at my watch -- 3:15. There was still another 45 minutes of the race, but I realized, with cold, grim certainty, that if I didn't leave right then, I would get stuck in the crowds and remain foodless on the mountain until 8 or 9 p.m. There was no question. I was allowed to go down that part of the hill on a ski lift, another peak moment for incredible views of white mountains and tall trees and valleys below melting into prismic rivers. When I got off the ski lift, nobody knew where the shuttle bus was. There were no signs anywhere. Two hours later, I was back in Nagano, exhausted at a restaurant. I want to reprint this page of the Japanese/English menu for you, exactly, spelling and all, 100 percent true: KURAGE SU - Vinegared jelleyfish AYU MISOZUKE - A Raw Riverfish that is soaked in miso for two months. INAGO - Locusts wok-fried in sweet "soy" mixture HACHI NOKO - Bee larva wok-fried in sweet "soy" mixture BASASHI - Sliced raw horse IKAWATA - Squid Internal Guts (a little difficult for the unnaccustomed) OK. SALON \| Feb. 20, 1998