Traveling westward from Shizuoka City, the train passes through the stations of Abekawa, Mochimune, Yaizu, and Nishi-Yaizu, before I disembark in Fujieda on my daily commute. I try to stay awake for the ride—most importantly so I don’t miss my stop and end up being shaken awake by the conductor at the end of this train’s line in Shimada—and also because the trip is actually quite beautiful. June is a generally dreary month in this area, the notorious
tsuyu (rainy season) upon us, the hordes decked out in galoshes, toting giant umbrellas...so a blue-skied day is really something to relish. But on this route, really, there are no terrible days.
After clearing the concrete core of Shizuoka, we cross the wide but shallow Abe River (so feeble it is segmented, more a braid of streams than a river) before arriving at Abekawa (
kawa means “river”) station. From Abekawa to Mochimune is a lovely, rural stretch of green—still homes and warehouses and such, but more tea and rice fields, orchards, cropland—and just past Mochimune the tracks run oceanside, granting a vast yet brief view of the Pacific before the train is swallowed by a long tunnel between Mochimune and Yaizu. Yaizu, Nishi-Yaizu (
nishi means “west”), and Fujieda are known as bedroom communities for Shizuoka City (but they each have their highlights—from Yaizu’s fish market to Fujieda’s Renge-ji-ike Koen), and what I see from the train is house after house between rice fields and small gardens, high school and junior high students riding cruiser bikes toward school, and elementary kiddies walking with their shiny red backpacks and on wet days, multicolored umbrellas.
In the mornings, I take the latest train possible, of course, to arrive at work on time, but in the afternoons I can make the return trip at my leisure. I had to wait a while for a sunny, haze-free day, but when one arrived I finally visited Mochimune Beach on my way back to Shizuoka—the shoreline I’d only glimpsed from the train.
Excellent: evidence that campfires are allowed here!
My sweet ride here in Shizuoka is a bike loaned to me from a generous friend—and I am thankful for it…most of the time. Its seat is terribly uncomfortable and the deteriorating metal basket is a tetanus infection waiting to happen, but it gets me and my stuff around town when needed. 
Affectionately called the mamachari (a combination of “mama” and “charinko”, which is a slang term for bicycle), this style of cruiser bike is everywhere—on every street, in front of every building—used as a main mode of transport for not only mamas (who can carry either one or two kids aboard in baskets on the front and back of the bike), but for everyone from junior high kids to salarymen to elderly ladies on their way to the pachinko parlor.
Most bikes come outfitted with at least one basket and a bell needed for the sometimes crowded sidewalks, and most also have built-in locking systems so the bikes can stand freely while locked, as I'd imagine that installing enough racks for tethering all the bikes in Japan could drain the steel resources of southeast Asia. In winter months, bike mitts are another popular addition, ensuring toasty hands!
Bikes get stolen here, but not by criminals…my bike disappeared from in front of a downtown shopping center because I had parked unknowingly in a 2-hour-maximum bike parking zone when I went to Fujieda for meetings for the day. After consulting the ever-helpful Shizuoka City Association for Multicultural Exchange (SAME) office and giving a very detailed description of the bike to a woman at the office to give to a man on the phone, I was directed to the bike confiscation warehouse, a vast building at the edge of the city center where thousands of bikes are lined up by date and location collected. So after showing the bike police that my key indeed opened the bike’s lock, and after getting a lecture and a map explaining the two-hour parking zones of Shizuoka’s city center, I paid 2,000 Yen (about $20) and got my bike back. I had to show the attendants my I.D. and give them my Japanese address, so unfortunately I’m in the system now. And from what I gathered from the lecture and accompanying documents, my next violation comes with a 10,000 Yen fine…in that event, I think I’ll just forfeit my ride instead.
I dream of my shiny, fabulous road bike, neglected in storage in Eau Claire...
P.S. I saw this barnacled beast pulled from the ocean in Shimizu!
I adore the community gardens near Okabe’s baseball fields—a flat stretch divided into small plots where families grow veggies, flowers, whatever. I don’t know where these gardeners live—probably in the city or at least a place without yard space; a few folks tend their patches throughout the day, but most show up in the hazy late afternoon. When I walk back to town after school around 4:15, a line of cars is parked along the narrow road, and tillers, trowels, and sprinkler hoses are at work across the field.
Even in the country, I feel like it’s very rare to see a piece of land unutilized. The steep hillsides are often relatively undisturbed besides rows of tea bushes in some places and swaths of bamboo harvested in others, but the vast majority of flat land not under concrete is used for food. On a heavily populated group of islands, I imagine this is necessary, moreso as the Japanese diet is shifting, notably, toward a preference for meat over seafood.
(Not-too-shabby rice growth in the 3 weeks I was away from Okabe!)
(A whole field of wasabi...and just today I peeked inside the greenhouse across the street from the gardens, to discover rows and rows of lime trees!)
It is heartening to see people out tending their greens, producing food for themselves or to sell or give to others to enjoy (I happily lugged home a huge bag of potatoes that a teacher gave to me from his plot in this garden); the small market stands are innumerable, not to mention the unattended roadside shelves stacked with produce and honor-system drop-boxes for payment. 
And even in the city, sidewalk space is used for planters of greenage—container gardens are set up along storefronts, curbside, wherever there’s a smidge of space—often fortressed by watering bottle borders.
My only bit of critique is that I wish I’d see more rooftop space greened up. Perhaps this is mere jealousy, having not found a safe way up onto my own roof, but I am frustrated gazing over the neighbors’ expanse of flat concrete roof used for nothing but a small clothesline. Visions of rows of tomatoes, spinach, cilantro, basil, bell peppers, and more alight in my head—along with speculations on the cookouts and Girl Talk dance parties to be had up there—and I am disappointed to look out on the city from my balcony and see most rooftops flat and empty.
How cool that such projects are catching on in NYC: 
Soft black sandy beach, sweet skippin’ stones, green-blue waves, and a windmill make for a terrific rest stop. 
Renge-ji-ike Koen is an expansive, lush park in Fujieda, with forest, flowers, playgrounds, overlooks, hiking paths, a pond, and the longest slide I've ever seen. I'd hiked to this park with the Okabe seventh graders, but didn't get a chance to play much, as I was busy being a responsible teacher that day. So I took Davin and Jackson there on a weekend a couple weeks later, and we got to do the activity that really caught my eye during my first visit.
I am convinced there are few better ways to spend a warm, sunny Saturday than on the water, looking out of a fiberglass swan's tailfeathers.
Boat racin', duck chasin'...
And the deadly roller-slide that left all three of us injured...
"Forget about the pain and think about how great that boat ride was!"
Horrific: 
My placement at this school was the reason my employers were insistent that I lease or buy a vehicle for work. To me, however, a car seemed like a terrible idea—the expense, the lack of parking space, and of course that whole driving on the other side of the road thing. This country has one of the most developed, efficient mass transit networks in the world—it is absolutely awesome—and what a shame to not utilize this luxury while I’m here! So despite Okabe’s quite rural location (in the hills northwest of Shizuoka City and northeast of Fujieda), I have managed to avoid driving…I’ve just learned to love the bus.
It really helps that the school is in a scenic valley; my walking route crosses then follows a river for a while, and when the river curves south I am left to take a path bordered on both sides by agricultural land: rice fields, wasabi fields, corn fields (ah, Wisconsin!), orchards, and more. The road is lined with blue and magenta hydrangea bushes, and the whole scene is peaceful and lovely.
As an added bonus, when it is raining—which it does often this time of year—the head English teacher pities me and gives me a lift in his fabulous little 2-seater from the Village Hall to the school (Below: students' mode of transport, my mode of transport).
The school itself is like the others—a plain white building with a courtyard (complete with sad courtyard fountain in this case), the requisite clump of palm trees near the front entrance, and facilities such as an outdoor pool, tennis and basketball courts, a baseball diamond, and a dirt soccer field.
The scene at Okabe, however, is far more relaxed than at my other schools, especially crowded Aojima. My second day at Okabe, a took a 5-hour hike/picnic with the seventh graders and helped facilitate a scavenger hunt throughout the city park that was our destination (I took tons of photos of this event, then accidentally deleted them...awesome). The next day, I participated in a jump-rope competition, although I merely spectated during the 3-legged races. And the following week, I even ended up teaching by myself a few times. It's actually against the rules to leave me in a classroom without a Japanese teacher present, but one day a teacher called in sick, and another day both English teachers needed to attend a meeting, so they asked if I'd be all right teaching alone. Considering how chill everything was, I figured nothing too ridiculous could happen...and it was just fine. Really great, actually.
Despite the hour-and-a-half commute each way, my Okabe days were crazy entertaining...I'm so looking forward to getting back to the hills in a few weeks.
P.S. Yes, the school is relaxed, but they are nevertheless prepped for The Tokai Earthquake!
