Steve K

Stroke News Update

June is Stroke Awareness Month in Canada. I suppose I should say “was”. Due to a busy schedule, I’m late getting to some important stroke news. First things first—I’ve reduced prices on Amazon for print and Kindle copies of Stroke of Luck. Order a copy now and save 20 percent! The sale will run all month.

A Visit with Calgary Health Foundation

Earlier this week, I dropped into the (new) Calgary Health Foundation office to present CHF with a donation cheque on behalf of everyone who has supported me and my Stroke of Luck book project.

From the low point of my stroke recovery, writing a book was the furthest thing from my mind. I was indebted to the doctors, nurses and staff at the Foothills Medical Centre, Unit 100 (“the Stroke Unit“) for their care during and after my time in hospital. It occurred to me that crafting my story into a book might be a way for me to help ensure continuation of their invaluable work.

Since my book was published, I’ve committed to pool sales proceeds with any direct donations I receive (and as much of my own resources as I can spare). This year, with help from Candice McCarthy (Philanthropy Advisor), these funds will go to the Clinical Neurosciences team. See the featured image, above.

This is an opportunity for me to thank all who have bought the book or have contributed to the cause. Your support is greatly appreciated! By the way, I love hearing from readers, so don’t hesitate to reach out.

Focus on Tenecteplase, clot busting drug

In this piece, I look at one of the many breakthroughs pioneered by the neurosciences team at the University of Calgary: the use of Tenecteplase for treating acute ischemic stroke. You can read an article about Dr. Bijoy Menon and the team behind this project here. Dr. Menon is Section Head of the Neurology Department, and one of the heroes in my personal stroke story.

Tenecteplase is a “clot busting drug” that has revolutionized stroke treatment. When I did more reading on the subject, I uncovered a fascinating story, one that highlights many advances in biomedical engineering.

Warning: medical jargon ahead—but please bear with me!

Let me start with a brief overview of clot formation (hemostasis) and clot busting (fibrinolysis), two interrelated processes that are essential to human life. When we suffer damage to a blood vessel, clots form in three steps—constriction of the blood vessel; formation of a platelet plug at the site; and coagulation. Coagulation is a complex chain reaction, one that would take a whole article to explain (if I could). I’ll skip all the details, except one: the conversion of the soluble protein fibrinogen in the bloodstream into insoluble strands called fibrin. These strands weave together to close the wound.

Even as a clot is forming, the body begins a process that will allow the clot to break up in due course. It does this by binding an enzyme called plasminogen into the fibrin mesh. Damaged blood vessels release a protein, tissue plasminogen activator (tPA), which converts trapped plasminogen into its active form, called plasmin. Plasmin acts like microscopic scissors, slicing the fibrin mesh into small, soluble fragments that can be absorbed by the body.

You may ask, what does this have to do with strokes? Well…

When plaque that has built up in an artery is released into the bloodstream, it can restrict blood flow to the brain by blocking an artery. This is the definition of an ischemic stroke. The structure of these arterial clots—dense and highly cross-linked with plaque—is resistant to the body’s natural clot-busting process. Essentially, these clots outpace the body’s natural tPA response. That’s why doctors administer artificial clot-busting drugs, which are synthetic forms of tPA, to activate plasminogen and clear the blocked artery.

The development of synthetic tPA is a biomedical success story. The first generation of recombinant tPA (called Alteplase) was initially used in the 1980s for treating heart attacks. It was later expanded for use in ischemic strokes. A second-generation, bioengineered variant called Tenecteplase followed in 2000—it has many advantages over earlier drugs. Dr. Menon’s study led to Tenecteplase being approved for stroke treatment in 2025.

As a chemical engineer, I find two aspects of this story remarkable. First, is the targeted increase in efficiency of the clot busting process. We can think of natural tPA as an inefficient catalyst. While it initiates clot busting, it circulates broadly and it is quickly neutralized in the body. (That’s as it should be, otherwise we’d be at constant risk of bleeding to death.) What scientists have done is utilize recombinant DNA technology to make highly specific molecular modifications and create a catalyst that’s more efficient in targeting the fibrin mesh that holds clots together. In fact, Tenecteplase has a 15-fold increase in fibrin specificity compared to older drugs. This dramatically lowers the risk of severe bleeding complications.

Second, the molecular modifications drastically improve reaction kinetics. Tenecteplase is resistant to the body’s normal processes that would otherwise shut down its clot-busting action. That means it stays in the bloodstream longer, and unlike older drugs, it doesn’t require a difficult, continuous intravenous infusion. Instead, it can be administered in a rapid, highly effective single injection, often by first responders. As we know, minutes matter when it comes to stroke treatment.

Tenecteplase represents the culmination of decades of progress in medical science. It has quickly become the standard clot-busting treatment for acute ischemic strokes. As a result, lives are being saved every day. And for that, we can be thankful for the world-class research being done right here in Calgary!

Reminder: Stroke Symptoms

I usually close my posts with the acronym BE FAST, but it seems timely to remind readers just what this small and powerful phrase means. It’s a handy acronym to remember ALL the signs of stroke:

If you or someone you care about is experiencing any of these symptoms of stroke, don’t hesitate—call 9-1-1 right away! If you want to learn more, do check out some of these other posts on the blog: here, here, and here.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

The Solo Workout

I stand at the railing of the empty grandstand. Sunlight glints off metal bleachers. I look out over the broad, blue expanse—featureless, if not for the sun, still low and benign at this hour.

Below me is the track, in brilliant blue to mimic the sky. Four hundred metres of geometric precision. Monumental, even when dwarfed by the sky above it. But not today. Today, the track is an old friend.

I study the familiar painted lines—patterns of white that mark hallowed ground. They reduce the complex world into eight simple ovals. Here and there, marks of yellow, red and green; arrows and distance markers; ready for an unknown future contest.

Stepping onto the pebbled surface, I begin the slow build into a crescendo of physical effort. Pattern is distilled to instinct after decades of repetition. The routine is part drama, part choreography—warmup to workout to cooldown.

I ease into it, clearing the rust, trusting the movement. Strides, leg swings. Then I find the instructions, scribbled on a scrap of paper and tucked into the pocket of my shorts. One last check to memorize today’s variation, a new puzzle to solve. My only teammate is a Timex Ironman, its buttons worn nearly unreadable after so many sessions, so many seasons.

I take a sip of water, then step to the mark and go. I visualize ideal form and accept that I will fall short. Stay tight to the lane marker, feel the synthetic surface compress under my stride. Use the watch to find the pace, then hold it. One more repeat, then another, until the set is done.

Anticipation builds with each slow walk to the line. As ever, the quick rhythmic beat of my stride takes over—the surest antidote to pain and the only way to silence the inner critic. I count the 400s down. Four, three, two. Only one to go.

Next, the 200s. Notch the pace up once more. Fighting against fatigue, I tell myself to drive my tired arms to lead my legs. Ignore the burning in my calves. Let the building lactic acid be the reward for my effort.

Passing the steeplechase pit one last time, the workout resolves to the finish straight. One hundred metres. I straighten my form, look for the line and cross it with purpose.

It’s done—I’m done. Sweaty hands on still-quaking knees. Slowly, my head clears. My breath and heart rate settle into a quieter rhythm.

I look down at my trusty Asics—stationary for now—and I notice a hole, forming in the usual spot. The white lane lines curving away beneath me are the clouds absent from this morning’s brilliant sky.

Track and sky merge into one. I’m totally alone. The only sound, the hollow slap of a tennis ball against a distant wall, echoes my heartbeat.

With my mind as clear as the sky, my cooldown jog becomes a victory lap. Never mind that the grandstand is empty. The track is all mine. Not ready yet to leave this place, I jog another lap, then walk one more. The rising sun, warm on my face, is a gentle reminder from the world beyond.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Chasing Aviation History in Nanton

Well, here we are in June. Because this is Alberta, the weather has been more suited to November. As I write this, I’m huddled in my basement, to get away from the wind and rain. For today at least, the idea of writing about running is more appealing than an actual run.

I started the year with the idea of a series of photo runs, highlighting interesting towns in southern Alberta. My first subject was Longview, and you can read that piece here. I’ve visited more towns in the meantime, and I hope you’ll enjoy this summary of one recent outing.

The Bomber Command Museum

Nanton is located about an hour south of Calgary. Pioneers first settled in the area around the turn of the twentieth century, and in 1903 the village of Nanton was formed. It was named for Sir Augustus Nanton (1869-1925), who was a partner in the financial firm Osler, Hammond and Nanton. The town was incorporated in 1907. Its population has been fairly steady around 2,500 in recent years.

My interest in visiting Nanton was twofold. Deborah and I were overdue for a return visit to the Bomber Command Museum. The museum is a gem. It documents the fascinating history of aviation in Alberta in the first half of the 20th century. We made the scenic drive on a beautiful February day, which felt more like June. Oh right, Alberta.

**RCAF Centennial Celebrations**, May 2024 (Photo by John Chalmers)

Almost before we got in the door, we were chatting with the knowledgeable volunteers. We then got an insider’s tour of the hangar. The museum displays offer a complete record of the men and women who were at the forefront of military aviation. The hangar is well known for its collection of wartime airplanes and other equipment. It was quiet during our tour, but make no mistake—this is a working operation.

We had a close up look at the museum’s restored Avro Lancaster bomber (FM-159). The plane is dedicated to Ian Bazalgette, a Lancaster pilot who was awarded the Commonwealth’s highest award for valour in the Second World War, the only Albertan to receive the honour. The Lancaster is legendary, and the story of FM-159 and its connection to Nanton would fill another piece. You can read about it here. The museum’s plane isn’t airworthy, though it is started up from time to time. While FM-159 never flew in combat, it saw service in maritime patrol.

There are a couple of major projects going on at the museum. A DeHavilland Mosquito (CF-HMS) was moved to Nanton after 50 years in storage, and is now being meticulously restored. Like FM-159, CF-HMS has some history, which you can read about here. The Mosquito was a highly versatile plane—its wooden fuselage and wings meant it was light and fast. It was also rugged and easily repairable. And it was ideal for reconnaissance, as it could evade enemy radar. CF-HMS was built just after the war, and it served as a photo mapping plane.

An Avro Anson Mk. II (#7481) is being restored, with the goal of keeping as much original material as possible. The Anson was designed in the UK for civil aviation, and a military variant soon followed. About 1,000 Anson Mk. II aircraft were built in Canada. Although it was intended as a maritime patrol aircraft, the airplane found its niche as a multi-engine trainer during the war. As for Anson #7481, a lot of work has already been done and much remains to do. This is clearly a long-term project. Seeing this work up close confirmed how dedicated the museum volunteers really are.

British Commonwealth Air Training Plan

Did you know that southern Alberta played a pivotal role in the Allied war effort? Under the direction of the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan (BCATP), aviation training facilities were established in about 230 locations, in every Canadian province. The program initially relied on existing airfields and training facilities, and was soon supplemented by purpose-built sites.

Coincidentally, I recently wrote a piece about North York, in Toronto. The de Havilland Aircraft plant in Downsview has an illustrious past—during the war it supplied thousands of airplanes to BCATP schools across the country. In all, more than 130,000 people graduated from BCATP programs.

#5 Elementary Flying Training School, High River (National Defence Photo)

The wide open skies and agreeable terrain in Alberta made it an ideal location for aviation training. From command headquarters which were set up in Calgary in 1941, flight training took place at multiple locations across the province. In total, there were 18 training sites in Alberta, which helped meet the diverse needs of Canada’s rapidly expanding air force.

While no facilities were established in Nanton, the town was right in the middle of the action—training schools at nearby Claresholm, De Winton, High River, Fort MacLeod, Lethbridge and Vulcan meant the skies over southern Alberta were busy during the war years. This image from 1942 shows details for the airfield at the No.31 Elementary Flying Training School in De Winton. The triangular runway configuration is typical for military airfields.

As you’d expect, RCAF history is well documented. I’ve only scratched the surface of RCAF history in Alberta for this piece. If you’re interested in learning more, I can recommend several books by local author and historian Dave Birrell:

The Canadian Air Force at High River
The Bomber Command Museum of Canada
People and Planes: Stories from the Bomber Command Museum of Canada

Birrell is one of the founders of the Bomber Command Museum, and the museum bookstore carries print copies of his many books. The above titles and some others are available for free download; click here. I’d also recommend RCAF.Info as a good resource for information about BCATP sites across Canada.

While in Nanton, a photo run

After our museum tour, I did a short photo run around the town. I headed for the tallest structures on the horizon, the town’s twin grain elevators. (Yes, we will have to come back another time to visit the Canadian Grain Elevator Discovery Centre.) Of course, I checked out Nanton’s main street. Then, because it was such a nice day, I extended my run by doing a lap around the park on the north side of town.

Here are a few shots from my photo run:

Touching down

We left Nanton feeling we’d experienced a lot. At a precarious time in the world, it’s perhaps more important than ever that we remember the role Canada has played as a defender of democracy. Our aviation history is a big part of that story. And that history is being preserved and celebrated at the Bomber Command Museum. The museum is well worth a visit, and rest assured there’s more to see and do while you’re in Nanton.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Marathoning: Good, Bad and Ugly

Late April and early May are a wonderful time for fans of marathon running. As I do every year, I followed the latest news from Boston and London, home to the world’s most famous marathons. The 2026 races brought some notable headlines, including a new course record by John Korir in Boston and a remarkable but hardly unexpected result, as Sebastian Sawe convincingly broke the 2-hour barrier in London.

But as has happened for several years, I was left with mixed feelings, especially reading some of the online chatter after these two premier races. I decided to let things sit for a while, before putting my concerns into words. Since this is my blog, I will go ahead and share my opinions on the state of the sport. I’m interested in any reader comments, especially if you have a different take on this subject.

Celebrating the good

I’ll start by reiterating my opinion that athletics (and specifically, running) is the greatest of all the sports. Competitive running has been at the core of my existence for most of my life, and I remain captivated by a sport with such rich history, diverse personalities, infinite challenge, and tangible benefits.

Because running confers countless benefits, I’m thrilled whenever I see people taking up the sport, no matter their circumstances. I encourage anyone who is curious about running to take it up, with an open mind. If they choose to take the step into competitive running, so much the better.

Apparently many people are doing just that—it was announced this week that entry applications for the 2027 London Marathon exceeded 1.3 million. This is more than twice the figure for the 2024 race. The odds of being selected in the lottery are slim—now only about 1 in 100. And it’s not just London that is seeing dramatic growth. I haven’t done a detailed analysis, but big city marathons and many other races are filling up fast. It’s a worldwide phenomenon.

Higher participation in running is a very good thing. Running races, whatever the distance, is a worthy objective, and it will pay dividends for individuals and society as a whole. Here’s a quote from the foreword of my book, Stroke of Luck, as written by Dr. Michael Hill—he’s one of my heroes at the Foothills Stroke Unit. His words should inspire us all:

“If Steve’s book can inspire others both before and after illness to pursue a more active life, then it will have achieved a key purpose. If it can also inspire builders and planners and engineers to build environments, indoor and outdoor, that promote that physical activity, then whole groups and neighbourhoods will benefit. If it can inspire political leaders to imagine a society where these environments are protected, encouraged and nourished, then an entire nation can thrive.”

– Michael D Hill, OC MD MSc FRCPC FRCS

This coming weekend will be Calgary’s time to celebrate running, with the 62nd Calgary Marathon. I’ll take up my usual spot on 14 Street SW, around the 15k mark, camera in hand, to watch the action. Look for pictures on my Instagram shortly after the race!

Acknowledging the not-so-good

Notice that I didn’t say “finishing a marathon” is a very good thing. On balance, it usually is, but it’s on this point that I will add some cautionary words. Committing to a marathon takes extraordinary dedication, and finishing one is always a major accomplishment, especially for those who do so as amateurs.

The real question is, why have runners come to see the marathon as a measure of their status? It’s complicated. Running has become big business. There’s a subculture around races that is undeniably elitist, characterized by high entry barriers (and fees to match), international travel and expensive equipment.

It even involves fashion and jewelry (think blingy finisher’s medals). The flashy medals from this year’s Boston Marathon (pictured at left) are already selling on eBay for $500 US. While this may suggest greater recognition of the value of the sport, it also points to what I see as a major threat—commercialism.

Commercialism has led to myths and misconceptions, mainly among new runners. There’s the “real runner” myth. There are fractures in the running community, along the lines of which races one has done or not done. In my view, this puts pressure on runners to prove they belong. What nonsense! If you run, you are a runner. It’s not for anyone to dictate to someone else which races they should run, let alone races with the peculiar distance of 42.195 kilometres.

Then there’s the “holy grail” myth. This is an unfortunate result of the higher demand for race entries. Increasing demand for something unique and in short supply—like a race bib for the Boston Marathon—will increase its value. Route 135 between Hopkinton and Boylston Street has become sacred ground, and the pressure to get there can be overwhelming. Aspiring runners will chase any idea to improve their odds: the latest shoe, the best nutritional supplements; the latest training plans.

I ask, what happened to just enjoying running for its own sake? I think we’ve let our competitive nature—the human need to strive, to achieve, and then to recognize our achievements—overtake our common sense. Even small, local races now have large, shiny finisher’s medals.

I put some of the blame on the Abbott World Marathon Majors, a series that has turned marathoning into a medal treasure hunt. I concede that the Abbott Majors has had some beneficial impact, by increasing awareness and interest in marathon running. Fortunately, it’s also spawned trends like the boom in trail running and the minimalist Parkrun.

What are the Abbott World Marathon Majors?

Starting in the mid-2000s, five big city marathons (Boston, New York, Chicago, London and Berlin) got together, and declared that they had special status owing to their size and reputation amongst runners. The World Marathon Majors was born. It was a novel idea. At the time it was almost certainly true.

Some years later, Abbott entered the picture, recognizing that an annual marathon series was a novel marketing opportunity. Their goal was to foster elite competition, but it quickly morphed into an enticement to average runners.

Not surprisingly, the Abbott series has grown—Tokyo was added as the sixth major in 2012, then Sydney in 2024. More majors are coming, and Cape Town (eight) and Shanghai (nine) are next.

And the ugly

If your circumstances allow you to travel the world, to always own the latest carbon-plated supershoe, to enter and train and compete in marathons in some of the leading cities of the world—go right ahead. I hope people who are on this path are there for good and valid reasons.

But what if you can’t manage it? What if the wear and tear on your body from even one marathon is too much? What if wearing the same $500 superlight shoe that Sawe wore to set his record is actually hurting you? Here’s where the problems start.

Anyone who commits to a marathon—or any race—should do so because they intend to compete. That is easier said than done. If you are happier running your local Parkrun or 10k, with no consideration of your pace, wearing ordinary running shoes, then that’s what you should do. You’ll be better off in the long run.

The worst consequences of this pressure are becoming clear. There’s cheating aimed at securing valuable race entries—runners who will do anything to secure a Boston Qualifier, a BQ. Reports of bib swapping, course cutting and “bib mules” are now fairly common.

I’ll also note the significant environmental toll from “marathon tourism”, as people fly around the world to compete in marquee races, when there are so many other events closer to home. Some would downplay the seriousness of these issues, but I don’t. How valuable is a finisher’s medal if it wasn’t earned fairly?

Finally, I’ll mention the so-called running influencers, whose interest in Boston, New York or London seems to be in checking these races off a list. They use their online platform to bring their followers along with them. It’s the marathoning equivalent of snapping a selfie at the Eiffel Tower and the Grand Canyon.

What happens next? Look to Boston

I think explosive growth in demand is eroding some of the goodwill that exists around a sport fundamentally based on fitness. Even Boston, the premier marathon in the world, has become the focus of online angst. Why? For the very reason that it is so prestigious. Boston is the race with the most challenging entry criteria—a BQ is coveted more than any other credential in the marathoning world. For decades, Boston has simply been out of reach for many runners, even serious competitive runners. With limited exceptions for charity spots, if you weren’t fast enough, you couldn’t get in.

Interestingly, I see this feature putting Boston into a position of conflict with the other Abbott races. Clearly, a runner can’t complete their six-star commitment unless they can run Boston. So, isn’t it structurally unfair to those runners for the BAA to enforce Boston’s traditionally stringent entry standards?

I say NO, for one simple reason: Entry to Boston is a privilege, not a right.

I’d hate to see Boston’s status as the world’s leading marathon diluted to satisfy essentially infinite demand for entries. In fact, I see the BAA facing an imminent dilemma—stick to their principles (limiting entries as much as necessary to put on a world-leading event) or find a way to accommodate the call on entries by non-qualifying Abbott runners. If it comes to this, there can be only one answer. I’m optimistic that the BAA will do the right thing, and I’m sure Boston would do just fine alongside and apart from the Abbott series. If that means some incomplete six-star medals, so be it.

The final word

The sport of marathoning is thriving, and I’m confident it will get past its current challenges. For those who enjoy running for its own sake, my advice will never change—find your own way in the sport. If that happens to include marathons, that’s awesome. I wish you great success. Just don’t let anyone dictate what races you must run, or that you must race at all. Remember, if you run, you are a runner, and you can be content with that.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Magnificent Japan: Part 3

This post is my third from our recent Japan trip. I’ve dealt with the logistics of our travels in Part 1 and Part 2 of the series, and I have a lot to cover, so I’m going to jump right in.

Historic Kyoto

Kyoto is a must-see destination in Japan. It’s the capital city of Kyoto Prefecture in the Kansai region, and it has a population of 1.5 million. Interesting facts, but totally irrelevant, because Kyoto’s rich history makes it so much more than a compilation of facts and figures. Kyoto was the seat of imperial power in Japan for eleven centuries, from 794 to 1869.

Our time in Kyoto was short, and we made a false start just getting out of Kyoto Station—an impressive but rather intimidating building. We regrouped at a Mister Donut, where we shared a Pon de Ring, their signature mochi donut. (Their photo too.) I’ll admit this was a stop I’d wanted to make for nearly two weeks. It was worth the wait. Delicious!

With our courage restored, we successfully hailed a cab and headed for the Hotel Seiryu Kyoto Kiyomizu. The hotel, set in the preserved walls of a former school, had us speechless. It was spectacular. Trendy yet refined, with world-class amenities and impeccably attentive staff. The lounge offered postcard views of the nearby Yasaka Pagoda, a majestic five-storey landmark.

We could have spent our whole time in the hotel, but there was much exploring to do. As we had been doing for the whole trip, we followed Matthew’s advice. We ventured out into the Kiyomizu-dera area. When we visited the site of the eponymous temple, it was clear why it is such a popular attraction—a beautiful site, with great views of the city below.

Copyright for all photographs on the site is mine, unless noted.

On our first full day, we rode the historic Randen (Keifuku) Arashiyama tram to the end of the line and got a cab to the Otagi Nenbutsuji Shrine. The shrine is (almost) off the tourist track. It holds a hidden treasure, in the form of carved Buddhist statues (rakan). These whimsical statues tell a remarkable story of resilience, for a temple that has moved several times over its long history. The sculptures look ancient, but they actually aren’t. Several decades ago, the head priest initiated a program to share his skill as a sculptor with the community. Given that there are 1,200 statues around the shrine, his efforts were very successful!

From the temple, it was a easy walk back into the city. On the way, we visited the intimate Gio-ji Shrine, site of one of the finest moss gardens in Japan. Then we walked through the famed Arashiyama bamboo grove, where we encountered the full impact of Kyoto’s popularity with tourists.

Next day, we made the short trip to Uji, south of Kyoto. We decided to skip Nara, and its resident deer population, in favour of a longer visit to the Byodoin Temple. We found Phoenix Hall (the featured photo, above) and its adjacent museum fascinating, and the streets of Uji—renowned for matcha tea—well worth a bit of sightseeing.

On our return to Kyoto, the train conveniently stopped at Inari, steps from Fushimi Inari Taisha, one of Japan’s most popular sites. There, a long procession of torii gates guides visitors all the way to the top of Mount Inari. We didn’t make it that far, but we were suitably impressed by the spectacle of 10,000 vermillion gates. What dedication!

Here is a small album of photos from our time in Kyoto:

On our last morning, I snuck out early for a run along the Kamo River (Kamo-gawa). The light rain didn’t dampen my enthusiasm. The pathway was quiet—I saw only a few other runners and cyclists. My easy out-and-back jog was just what I needed. It reminded me of the Bow River pathway in Calgary, half a world away. Aside from the views, I really liked the pathway signs, with their absolutely precise distance measurements. It was a nice final memory of a wonderful city.

And finally, it’s dynamic Tokyo!

For the final time, we boarded a Shinkansen, this time bound for Tokyo Station. If you do like numbers, Tokyo’s are impressive. The Greater Tokyo area is the largest metropolitan region in the world, with a population of 37 to 41 million people. To put that in perspective, it’s the population of Canada—in one city!

Four days may not be enough.

I’ve left myself a big task—to summarize our visit to the capital city of Japan in just a few paragraphs. I can start with an admission that might help—I’m a subway junkie. Anytime we visit a city that has one, I like to study the “Beck Map”, a highly schematic map based on an iconic design created by Henry Beck in 1933 for the London Underground. Even in this simplified format, the Tokyo Metro system is mind-boggling…

Our hotel in Tokyo was another treasure. After much deliberation, Deborah chose The Okura Tokyo in the Toranomon area. It was a great choice, as the Okura combines mid-century tradition with modern sophistication. We immediately felt at home—a personal welcome from the hotel manager does have that effect! The view to the east from our 34th floor window wasn’t bad either. It spanned the distant Tokyo Skytree to the (much closer) Tokyo Tower.

Orienting ourselves, we figured out there were three subway stations near the hotel, giving us flexibility to get anywhere we wanted to go. We ventured out, with our trusty IC cards in hand. Well aware it was a touristy area, we headed for Shibuya—an easy ride on the Ginza Line, Station G07 to G01—and its chaotic Scramble crossing. We saw it, we crossed it, we snapped a couple of pictures. It was interesting, but we soon moved on, feeling this was a so-so introduction to Tokyo.

We headed north to get away from the crowds, and found pleasant Yoyogi Park, where we saw a few early cherry blossoms. Then we walked through the grounds of Meiji Jingu, an important Shinto shrine. The serene forest setting is actually manmade—100,000 trees were planted in 1920 to commemorate Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken.

We did some shopping, including a visit to a couple of Tokyo’s famous camera shops in Shinjuku (for me) and a walk through Minato-ku and the high-end shops of Ginza (for Deborah). Closer to our hotel, we found Shiba Park at the base of the Tokyo Tower. That connected us to the Roppongi Hills area and the Azabudai Hills development, a chic cultural and dining hub. Each time out, we expanded our knowledge of the Metro system, with only a couple of missteps along the way…

There was history and art in and around the hotel. The original lobby was designed by Yoshiro Taniguchi for the 1962 opening. Then, in 2014, when a rebuilding project was undertaken, it was Yoshiro’s son Yoshio who preserved the look and feel of the original lobby. The Okura Museum of Art—the oldest existing private museum in Japan—was across the plaza. Having seen a tea ceremony in Kinosaki, which seemed a long time ago but was only a week, we enjoyed the exhibit of ancient tea utensils. And we checked out a Jaume Plensa sculpture that we could see from our hotel window—it was similar to one in Montreal that I wrote about here.

Food? Oh yes! We took full advantage of the amazing breakfast buffet at the hotel, to get us through most of the day. For dinner, we found restaurants with great tonkatsu curry and soba noodles. And there were always onigiri for a snack. One evening, we did a convenience store (konbini) dinner, to see what all the fuss was about over egg salad sandwiches and chicken cutlets. Life changing? No, but they’re not bad.

Here’s an album of pictures from Tokyo…

My final run in Japan was a lap around the Imperial Palace. Not surprisingly, it is a popular location in central Tokyo. The grounds are beautiful, with sculptural trees and a huge moat. I noticed a nice touch on the path—the distance markers feature flowers for each prefecture in Japan. I ran and Deb walked, which meant we both earned an ice cream.

The Final Word

Although we’d allowed more time in Kyoto and Tokyo than in other locations, we left both cities feeling there was too much unseen and undone. We were captivated by Kyoto. While it took us a little time to warm up to Tokyo, we left knowing we needed to come back. In the end, we think we were simply overwhelmed, and maybe a bit tired after three weeks. The key takeaway is that we will return to this wonderful country. We’re already planning our next trip, and Matthew has given us a list of Tokyo neighbourhoods we must visit! Who knows, there may even need to be another blog piece, to wrap up some loose ends from this visit.

Sayonara! And until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Mysterious Japan: Part 2

This edition of my trip report focuses on our travels to two smaller destinations, both on the western side of Honshu, the main island of Japan. As mentioned in Part 1, our son Matthew was a great resource for the logistics and details of our trip, particularly this part of it. I hope you’ll enjoy this summary, and of course, do check back in soon for the final installment!

Outline of the Week

First, a quick overview of our travels for this part of our vacation. Picking up the story at Hiroshima Station, we boarded a Shinkansen for Okayama, the capital city of Okayama Prefecture. From there, we caught a city bus to the port of Uno, and then a passenger ferry to the island of Naoshima.

A couple of days later, we reversed course for Okayama, this time on a local train. Then we transferred to a bullet train bound for Osaka, a short distance to the east. We overnighted near Shin-Osaka Station. The next day we took a regional train to Kinosaki-onsen, a small town in Hyogo Prefecture on the northern Sea of Japan coast.

It’s worth saying at this point, again, how impressed we were by the transportation systems in Japan. We were worried about all these connections, but as it turned out, we had no trouble getting to any of our destinations. Every transfer was flawless, and every component of the system was on time, clean and efficient.

The Art Island of Naoshima

Naoshima is a small island in Japan’s Seto Inland Sea. The whole island is only about 14 square kilometres. The terrain is quite hilly. Ferries make the short hop from Uno to the main port (Miyanoura) in about 10-15 minutes. The economy in the north of the island has long relied on industry, mainly copper smelting and aquaculture.

You may ask, what is the attraction to Naoshima? Well, over the last several decades, the south end of the island has become a centre for art and architecture. Benesse House is an organization that works to incorporate art into the local landscape. And when I say into, I mean “into”. The hotel and art museum, which opened in 1992, were designed by renowned Japanese architect Tadao Ando to fit seamlessly into the landscape. One of the buildings, the Chichu Art Museum, is completely underground. There are installations across the island, including multiple sites around the Benesse complex and several conceptual “art houses”.

Copyright for all photographs on the site is mine, unless noted.

We thoroughly enjoyed our stay in Benesse House Park. The view out over the grounds and the sea was beautiful. Even in a steady rain, the setting was impressive—and in a way, the rain enhanced the appeal of the stark concrete buildings. The artwork at the site includes sculpture and photography. We made the short walk to the Museum, and stopped at a couple of the open-air installations along the way. And we had some great meals in the hotel restaurant. The striking feature image for this post was taken just as the sky cleared after dinner on our second day.

The most famous piece on the site, Pumpkin, is a large sculpture by Yayoi Kusama. Pumpkin sits on its own pier a short distance from the hotel. It is definitely the most popular piece too, judging by the crowds that were snapping selfies with it. (I finally managed to get a nice photo of it when I went out for an early morning jog.) The piece was created for a 1994 exhibition of open air works around the museum. Adding to its appeal, the sculpture was blown out to sea (and rescued) in 2022.

Kusama, who is now 97 years old, has been an avantgarde artist for decades. Her pieces often include polka dots, which she attributes to hallucinations she had as a child. Other works of hers are found in Naoshima. We particularly liked her Narcissus Garden, a free form sculpture of stainless steel balls, installed in an open-air pavilion called the Valley Gallery.

Another large and popular Kusama pumpkin—this one red—is installed at the Miyanoura port. It made for a colourful picture when the ferry was moored close by. We enjoyed a short stroll around the town, which features a public bath that doubles as an art installation. Maybe on our next visit…

The Hot Springs of Kinosaki-onsen

Our next major stop in Japan was similar to Naoshima in one respect—it was rather remote. However, its attractions were quite different. We headed to Kinosaki-onsen, on the northern coast of the Kansai region. Onsen are traditional Japanese hot springs, treasured for their mineral-rich waters. The town of Kinosaki is particularly famous, as it has seven public baths where visitors can experience the relaxing geothermal waters in a serene setting.

Our JR West regional train got us to Kinosaki at less than Shinkansen speed, but was just as efficient. While we had brushed up on the etiquette for visiting onsen, we really weren’t sure what to expect. We arrived at our ryokan, the comfortable Morizuya Inn on the town’s picturesque main street. Hatchi, the owner/manager, immediately made us feel welcome, even insisting on some photos on a scenic bridge over the Otoni River.

First things first, we put on our yukata (dressing gowns) and enjoyed a traditional multi-course dinner in the dining room. Crab is the local specialty, it was in season, and it was definitely a highlight of our meal.

Many visitors make it a goal to see all the traditional onsens in the town. They can even get a stamp from each one as a souvenir. We set our sights a little lower, having never been to a public bath in Japan. In the end, we visited two of them, and we enjoyed the experience. Very relaxing! We began to appreciate why this is such an important part of Japanese culture.

Later, we took part in another cultural experience—the tea ceremony, led by Hatchi’s mother. She is a lovely woman, and the ceremony was very special.

Here are a few pictures from our laid-back time in this unique place. The picture of two ladies looking at a store window reminded me of one of my favourite Fred Herzog photos. On our last morning in town, I had the streets to myself for an early morning jog, and I was treated to a magical sunrise. There was some overnight snow on the cars, but coming from Alberta that didn’t seem photo-worthy!

More Impressions

The middle part of our vacation brought many more positive impressions. We had been to opposite sides of the main island, and seen two very different places—the first celebrated man’s impact on the natural environment, while the other let us experience nature’s impact on us. The food was all extraordinary, especially the traditional Japanese meals. And the people were wonderful—so welcoming and respectful.

Up next were the major cities, Kyoto and Tokyo. Stay tuned for that.

Until then, be well and BE FAST!