In Japan, friends and coworkers would often ask me to describe Nebraska. I found that comparisons to Hokkaido worked best - minus the mountains, of course. In reality, however, only Eastern Nebraska resembles Hokkaido. The dry, barren ranchland of western Nebraska and the Sandhills of northern Nebraska, for example, have no Japanese equivalent whatsoever.

The scene in the photo looks like something out of a Hokkaido guidebook. But, alas, I discovered it a mere stone’s throw away from my house in Omaha. Can you believe over a million people call this tiny corner of Nebraska home?

Here’s an interesting factoid about Hurricane Rita, now the fifth strongest hurricane ever observed in the Atlantic Basin: as of this afternoon, the temperature at 700mb (around 7,500 feet) within the storm is an incredible 30 degrees C (86 degrees F). As a comparison, Typhoon Tip (1979) also had a 700mb temperature of 30 degrees C at one point. Typhoon Tip was the strongest tropical cyclone ever observed.

Rita registered a pressure drop of 10mb in one hour today (a record, I believe). With the minimum central pressure as low as 904mb at the moment, I fully expect Rita to fall below the 900mb mark this evening - something Hurricane Katrina couldn’t even manage.

UPDATE: Within a minute of posting, new recon data arrives: Rita’s minimum central pressure is now 898mb, making it the third strongest hurricane ever observed in the Atlantic Basin. Yowsa.

Having come from Japan, I find myself impressed with how big everything is here at home. The landscape, the cars on the road, the people… gigantic. My “cozy” bedroom is cozy no more. It’s practically a concert hall!

Geez, it’s cold in Nebraska.

I apologize for the downtime today. The power outage in Los Angeles knocked out the data center at which the site is hosted.

I’ve been busy packing, mailing stuff home, and cleaning the apartment. The company is throwing a farawell party for us tomorrow night (they’re always looking for an excuse to get drunk), so we’ll have a full plate to the very end. Thursday, it’s off to Narita for the long flight home.

Since I’ve been here for two months, I don’t feel particuarly obliged to go out and experience as much of Japan as possible these last few days. Rather, I’m more focused on making preparations for the trip and wrapping things up at the office. I’m sure I’ll miss Japan once I’m back in the States… but, for now, I’m happy to be heading home.

For all basic purposes, Autumn begins in Japan on the first day of September. After all, that’s when “Autumn” food and drinks hit the store shelves and “Autumn” menus show up in restaurants.

I was almost fooled.

Today’s forecast high temperature: 34 degrees C (93F). Yup… still Summer.

We made it out of Tokyo on the last flight to Kumamoto. Typhoon #14 was still well offshore at the time, but being an unusually large storm, the outermost rain bands were already bringing heavy rain and strong wind to much of Kyushu. Shortly after arriving in Kumamoto, in fact, a fairly intense rain band moved overhead. Unfortunately, it was through this rain band we’d travel as we slowly made our way south to Kagoshima by car.

Like many roads in Japan, the road to Kagoshima hangs off the sides of mountains, periodically plunging into tunnels, winding its way up and down as if in a video game. Such roads can make for white-knuckle driving in even the best of conditions. In heavy rain and tropical storm force winds, however, all I could do was close my eyes and think of England. Getting in to Kagoshima before the storm was proving difficult enough. Getting out once the storm arrived would no doubt be impossible.

Kagoshima is a very cool city, nestled between a mountain range and a deep harbor. The city sits in the shadow of Sakurajima, one of Japan’s most active volcanoes. Of course, even a volcano can’t contend with an approaching typhoon. Sakurajima was like a phantom looming over Kagoshima, hidden by clouds and cover of night.

Landfall at Kagoshima wasn’t expected until early the next morning, so after a dinner of katsudon (a local specialty), we found a hotel and settled in for the night. The wind was nearing typhoon strength by this time, the building creaking and moaning with each gust. Sleeping proved difficult, as I felt compelled to rush to the window every time an intense gust arrived. I set my alarm for sunrise and finally dozed off, the world slowly falling to pieces outside.

Not so surprisingly, conditions weren’t all that different when I woke up. The storm was close to making landfall, but the northern eyewall was still south of the city. Within an hour, however, the situation rapidly worsened. I immediately got to work making reports, and took time to shoot some video for myself before things got too hairy.

I had hoped to set up near the harbor before the eyewall arrived, so we set out to drive the few blocks from the hotel to Kagoshima Port. Unfortunately, we would soon learn that the harbor had reclaimed those few blocks. Before long, we were driving in water up to the door frames. How the car was managing, I don’t know… I was prepared for it to stall at any moment. Now, I’ll admit that attempting to drive through storm surge isn’t the most intelligent thing I’ve ever done, but the water wasn’t so high that I felt our lives were in danger (yet), so we continued on. Of course, the closer we got to Kagoshima Port, the higher the water got. Eventually, we decided we could continue no further, and stopped to make a report.

As the worst of the storm raged around us, I realized the eye itself would pass just offshore to our west. I had planned on using the calm of the eye to reposition northward, but with it now looking as if we’d be in the eyewall for another couple of hours, I wasn’t sure what to do. I was content with riding out the storm in Kagoshima, but I knew my producers back in Tokyo were expecting me to keep up with the storm for as long as possible. It was too dangerous to leave the city at that point, however, and with most of the roads heading north into the mountains closed (of course), all we could do was wait.

Thankfully, the southern eyewall was nowhere near as intense as the northern eyewall, allowing us to roam freely as the wind gradually decreased. Heavy rain was still falling, however, and with the storm now rapidly accelerating northward, I had little faith we’d be able to keep up. So, I felt the best thing to do was to continue north into the mountains as far as possible - that is, until either road closures or hazardous conditions halted our progress.

From this point on, the rest of the story is fairly dull. The storm continued to weaken and pick up forward speed, and driving into the mountains was slow going. In fact, we didn’t even make it out of Kagoshima-ken before the mothership called and told us to break off the “chase”. Still, we managed to file a few good reports along the way and do a live interview for MBS.

We returned to Kagoshima for the night, and spent the next morning viewing storm damage and the local sights. Sakurajima had emerged from its hiding place, although the summit remained shrouded in clouds and steam. By the end of the day, we were back in Tokyo.

I return to the States next week, so I assume this will be my last typhoon. While Typhoon #15 is currently gathering strength east of the Philippines, it’s expected to pass well south of Japan. Meanwhile, there’s nothing of interest brewing elsewhere. Given the low latitude at which tropical cyclones form this time of year, a storm needs nearly a week from birth to reach Japan. So, for now, it looks as if we’re in the clear.

Typhoon #14 gave Kagoshima a beating. Right now, however, I need to get some much needed sleep. I’ll share the details tomorrow.

I had intended to fly to Kagoshima today in order to intercept Typhoon #14, which is expected to make landfall tomorrow morning. However, I woke up this morning to find all flights canceled. So, I’m now left to choose between a number of (none too appealing) backup plans. Oh, and I’m still sick.

So, if I don’t post anything for a couple of days, it’s safe to assume I’ve gone somewhere.

UPDATE: The airport in Kumamoto remains open (not sure for how long, though), so I think we’re going to try flying there. Barring any early road closures, we might be able to continue on to Kagoshima by car.

I suppose this is a continuation of a theme. Except, this time, the buildings are bigger, and there aren’t any overhead powerlines.

Clearly, I’m enjoying the hell out of my new lens. And, since I paid so much for it, I feel obligated to use it at every opportunity - even in situations when it’s really not the best lens for the job. I’ll get over it eventually, but for now, I might as well have fun.

Upper floor, second apartment from the left. Feel free to visit.

The house, it yearns to be free!

Furious. That’s how I feel about the federal government’s lack of response to the continuing horror in Louisiana and Mississippi. While federal officials are strutting around patting themselves on the back, talking about how “magnificent” a job they’re doing, people on the ground are suffering and dying. President Bush has already started in with the “hard work” platitudes. Yes, “hard work”: the presidential code phrase for, “I’m out of my fucking league here.”

For now, of course, the most important thing is to get assistance to those who need it most. But, when New Orleans is finally empty, the country should no doubt turn its attention to Washington D.C… and prepare the guillotines.

I thought I could make it two months without a haircut, but my hair had different plans. So, I paid a visit to the barber today.

Actually, I paid a visit to a salon. That’s what it billed itself as, at least. Best I could tell, it was just a barber shop with a silly French name. As I would soon learn, however, the service was more than the spinning red, white, and blue pole outside would have you expect.

Peering in the window, the stylists appeared young and aloof, so I figured they’d be delighted to cut my crazy foreign hair. I waltzed in the door, confident and prepared, ready to amaze them with my pidgin Japanese… and promptly found myself completely and utterly lost before the “Irrashimase!” had finished reverberating throughout the room.

“Hajimemashte?” the receptionist asked. Why, yes, this is my first visit. OK, then… time for the dreaded information card. As is typical in Japan, they needed to know everything about me but my shoe size before they could continue. I coughed up my name, address, and telephone number, and proceeded to stare dumbfounded at the remaining mess of numbers and kanji, hoping the receptionist would swoop in and rescue me. And that she did. With a quick, “Daijoubu desu ka?” the card was gone, and I was told to have a seat. In retrospect, seeing as I wouldn’t be a repeat customer, I should have had some fun with the card. Name: Captain Starshine. Address: 3-2-1 Ramalamadingdong-2-chome, Uchikuchi-ku, Ichinisan-shi, Hokutono-ken, Japan. Unfortunately, my brain don’t no work that fast.

Before long, a stylist appeared and ushered me toward the chair of fate. Before my ass hit the leather, he asked what I wanted done. Or, I assume that’s what he asked, as my brain wasn’t quite in “Japanese” gear. It was English loan words to the rescue, as I pointed to the top of my head with a “shorto,” and then the side of my head with a “motto shorto.” This seemed to satisfy him, and he immediately removed my glasses and got to work.

First came the shampoo massage. Yes, massage. Never in my life have I had my head lathered in such an expert and thorough fashion. The massage continued through the rinse. Hell, it continued through the toweling, only pausing briefly as he carefully dried the inside of my ears and my eyes. Then, out came the scissors.

Typically, I keep my hair so short that scissors are unnecessary. A razor with the proper guide attachments gets the job done in a matter of minutes, but the stylist was intent on shaping my hair with nothing but a pair of scissors. Obviously, this took some time, but it was worth it. Without my glasses, I had a difficult time charting his progress as he worked his way about my head. Still, I could feel the attention to detail as he snipped away.

After fifteen minutes of concentrated cutting, he returned my glasses to my head, whipped out a giant mirror, and asked, “Daijoubu desu ka?” I answered in the affirmative, and off came the glasses once again for shampoo massage part deux. Can’t have any loose hair floating around, after all.

After that came the straight razor and electric razor for cleaning up the edges. Then came some sort of oil, carefully massaged into my scalp. The next thing I knew, he was massaging my shoulders. Then my back. Then my temples. Then my head again. Back to my shoulders. Back to my head. The whole thing seemed so silly for some reason - so much that I had to bite my lip to keep from cracking up. Still, with him banging on my head like a taiko drum, I couldn’t help but smile like a dork.

Following the performance, he asked if I wanted a shave. Having already shaved that morning, I waved him off. Did I want it styled? Nope. I’m a wash and wear kind of guy. “Zenzen daijoubu,” I said with a thumbs up.

And that was it.

Of course, such service comes at a price: 3,800 yen ($34 USD). Whatever. It’s a one time experience… even if they did give me a point card on the way out.

Oh, and how does my hair look, you might ask? Not bad, really. It’s a bit longer than usual, but better too long than too short. It’s perhaps a little “high and tight” - such is the Japanese style - so I look a bit like a military guy. Of course, this means that, when walking the street, people will no longer just think I’m out to rob them, but that I’m looking to rape their daughters as well. Oh well. Such is life.

At least I don’t look like Ringo Starr anymore.