In Ito City on the Izu Peninsula

Man, I'm a comic genius. I must be because I'm not even trying to be funny but people have been laughing at me since I got to the Izu Peninsula. A nice family today nearly fell over laughing, then gave me directions, then laughed some more. It's weird, but not unpleasant, to be spreading this much joy just by existing.

Once the initial hilarity wears off, the most common question goes like this: there's a pause, intense  concentration and then words, slow and careful: "where are you from?". "Irelando", I say. The teenagers today on Mount Omuro weren't sure about that. (Actually probably nobody is, but the kids were willing to admit it). "U2", I said. Much discussion in Japanese. One drew the letter and number on his palm with his finger. Nodding and more discussion, then "U2 bando?" "Yes!" "... Enya?" "Yes, very good!" "Radiohead?" "No, that's England."

"We are Japanese", the Enya fan said, and I pretended to fall over in astonishment. (If they're going to find me funny anyway I may as well get the occasional joke in). Laughter all round and then it was time to take the chairlift back down the mountain.

This evening I sat on the third beach of this trip and put my feet in the Pacific. It's my first time seeing it from this side and it does seem to be calm and gentle and, well, pacific on the beach at Ito City. There's a tsunami warning on the lamppost outside. It's hard to imagine.

The hotel here, K's House, is part of a hostel chain, but one that wins awards for being exceptional at what they do. This hostel is a hundred year old registered wooden building with tatami rooms and sliding doors and both shared and private onsen baths. My room (a dorm of four futons, but I've had it to myself) is so peaceful that I dropped all plans for yesterday evening and just sat by the window listening to the frogs. This region is well worth a visit but, even if it wasn't, I'd recommend visiting this hotel.

On the Tokyo-Atami train

The Japanese Rail Pass doesn't cover the super-fast Nozomi service, but this Kodama local train is fast enough to keep me happy. The Shinkansen bullet train is a beautiful creature. We're zooming along. High speed trains are the best.

Tokyo is a great place to start a journey like this because it's a safe, modern city and it's easy enough to find your way around, but you're definitely not at home any more. Though, that said, Tokyo's actually a lot like a politer New York if New York had more public toilets and fewer tiny dogs: it's a centre of culture and business and retail with buckets of history, flagship stores, lost tourists from everywhere, busy but generally helpful locals,  walkable and bikeable streets, excellent public transport (once you figure it out) and all sorts of crazy neighborhoods and subcultures... well, ok, Tokyo wins hands down on that last one. Did you know that there's a subculture of people who dress like broken dolls? I swear. It's a new one on me. Anyway, in some ways a big city is a big city and Tokyo is like any of what I think of as the Great Cities, except you sometimes (often) have no clue whatsoever what's going on. And of course you don't know how to read.

I've been here before so I thought I'd probably take it easy and not run around too frantically this time, but boy was I mistaken. It's been three days of wall to wall activity: eating super-fresh sushi just off the boat at the biggest fish market in the world (wasted on me; I can't tell the difference), looking at delicate paintings at the Imperial Palace, petting the dog statue and being impressed at the elaborate style of every single person shopping at at Shibuya, watching the red evening sun from the Municipal Government Office Observatory, gawping at the crazy geek/fandom kids at Akihabara, causing the Wrong Coffee Incident of 2011 (you can't imagine the flurry of bowing, apologies, thank yous and running in circles, and that was just me), and stopping myself from buying the entire contents of Loft and the Studio Ghibli merchandise shop. My bag's less than 20lb and needs to stay that way.

There was also a bizarre incident involving a theme park, but that's a longer story that'll have to wait until later.

It's been busy, is what I'm saying, and it's also been too hot for this kind of headless-chicken activity. It'll be good to get to the Izu Peninsula and spend a couple of days hiking and sitting quietly and maybe even drinking some tea.

Pictures later when I'm more online.

On the other side of the Pacific

We only had half a day in Santa Monica but it was a good half day. Watching the sun set with your beloved is a classic for a reason.

The next morning we had a sad time at the airport, then Joel went to Seattle and I went to Tokyo. I realise this isn't news but, dudes, the Pacific is _really big_. It takes eleven hours to fly straight across it and, once you get there, you're in a timezone that's sixteen hours ahead of where you were. It's hard to be certain about what day it is.

It's 5am on whatever day it is and I've been wide awake for two hours. Travelling by land is gentler on the internal clock.

In downtown LA

LA's City Hall and LA Times buildings are pretty cool, but mostly we were entranced by the spectacular awfulness of the Clara Shortridge Foltz Criminal Justice Center. It takes some self confidence to put up a building that ugly, especially right opposite your dignified city hall. Nice work, someone!

There weren't a lot of internet particles for the last few days. Here are a few cameraphone pictures from the train. I have to work out a strategy for getting pictures from my real camera to the internet.

On the Southwest Chief somewhere in California

I'd expected a lot from this train journey and it's more than delivered. I might be the only person on the train relishing the delays (one medical emergency, one car broken down on the tracks, two commuter trains that needed to overtake) and wishing the US was a day wider. It's lovely.

The best things so far: the stunning Hudson Valley. Crossing the mighty Mississippi. Realising how beautiful agriculture can be. A lightning storm as we crossed flat bits of Colorado.Northern New Mexico's red velvet cake soil. Sunrise over the Mojave desert. Being rocked to sleep to the thunk of the tracks. The cheeriness and goodwill of the staff, particularly the conductor from Chicago to Kansas City who gave us a commentary on all of the cities we passed. "And now it's marvellous Mendota, the Las Vegas of Illinois! Is Mendota your final destination? You can get out here if you enjoy Mendota's attractions, such as eating Del Monte tinned fruit! Well, that was Mendota. I miss it already".

Our roomette is teeny tiny, just big enough for a fold-down upper bunk, two comfy chairs that slide together to make the lower bunk, and two adults who _really_ like each other. It's close. There are a bunch of little bathrooms and a shower down the hall as well as an ice cold water dispenser that dispenses tepid water and a boiling water dispenser that actually contains tolerable coffee.

The upper bunk has no outside view so we've been living on the lower one, reading, playing Carcassonne, doing NYT crosswords, taking frequent naps (Joel), eating all of the fig rolls (Tanya) and looking out the window for hours at the country going by.

It's super relaxing. I would do this again in a heartbeat.