I've been swamped with work all week, so I've got nothing but babble for you. Sorry.
I found out that, if you go to Google, type in "pictures of Jesus's tomb" (sans quotes) and hit "I'm feeling lucky," you get swept on a magic carpet ride to me. How weird is that? Well, not that weird, considering. Now that I've brought it up, I should note that you can get information about the Mahikari cult...er, organization at their website. They're the ones who believe(d) that the Takeuchi documents were genuine. But you might be better off at Mahikari Exposed, a site maintained by former members, which gives details of the organization's connection to the Jesus and Moses stories.
Anyway. I just realized that, while I wrote a summary of my Moses trip for my Super Secret Blog, I never shared it on this public one. So here it is: Moses and me. I didn't really get into the spaceship museum or the Oldest Rice-ball in Japan. Another time.
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So you remember how that Time article said, after visiting Moses Park, "In town you can buy Moses pomegranate wine and Moses pomegranate jam"? Well, I have news for you: there is no fucking "in town." None! I walked for hours—days—and I couldn't find a single store.
Well, no, that's an exaggeration. Close to the (unmanned) train station, I did see a couple of store-like places, but all they sold were gravestones and logs. That's it. Just gravestones and logs. I don't know how people survive in that area. They must have to churn their own butter, even.
So, yes, I did fulfill part of my Grand Religious Tour of Japan this past weekend. I stayed at a ryokan in Kanazawa and took the train up the Noto peninsula on Sunday to visit Moses, the spaceship museum and the Oldest Rice-ball in Japan (nothing to do with religion, I just thought it was cool). When I got to Hodatsu, the closest station to Moses Park, it was still before noon, and I was feeling fresh and energetic from a big breakfast and lazy morning. I walked in the general direction of the park, not really knowing exactly where it was, but having a vague idea from one of the maps I saw a few weeks ago.
I wouldn't say that the area was populous, but I encountered about a dozen people doing various late morning activities on my way. After crossing a major road (major for that area anyway), I spotted a little green sign that read something like "Moses Park hike" in Japanese. It had an arrow pointing right, so I followed it, still giddy from the prospect of seeing the burial site. (I felt kind of like Kevin McDonald in that Headcrusher skit with the "Girls, Girls, Girls" signs, following arrow to arrow.) All the people I saw thus far were either farming or gardening—there wasn't a great variety of things to do—and they kept looking at me. I knew they knew I was going to see Moses. Some smiled, others just stared.
When I got to the park, it was a lot bigger than I thought. Think Griffith Park without the horses. Lots of green. Lots of hills. And absofuckinglutely no people. I was the only one there— the only one in the entire park. I could have been murdered by Jason, and nobody would have been the wiser. At the same time, it was pretty damn neat! Very clean, very peaceful. I checked out the map and made a note of where the burial site was supposed to be. It looked like this:
I guess that's supposed to be him. The site itself looks nothing like a burial mound. There's just a big plaque that tells you the legend in both Japanese and English, and there are benches around it, like in the little cartoon above, so that you can sit there and stare at the plaque as you mutter to yourself, "that's all?" Just behind it is a small trail that leads you up to two steep mounds. If you climb to the right, you'll see a small circle of trees and a view of everything below (more trees). The mound on the left had the grave of Romulus, whom the legend claims to be Moses's son. Heh. There was just a long wooden stake marking the grave with the Star of David and some Japanese writing (in Magic Marker or something). At the base were a few empty flower pots and stones, and I stopped to take pictures. That's when the bugs started to attack. Mosquitoes mostly. It's probably highly unlikely, but I thought I was going to get encephalitis, so I escaped them by climbing down the other side of the hill.
When I got back to a gravel path, I saw those green signs again, the ones with the arrows. "Lucky me," I thought. "Maybe they'll lead me to the Moses wine." Once again, I faithfully followed one arrow to the next, thinking myself adventurous and daring because I am an idiot. This must have lasted about half an hour before I started to wish I'd reach the end already. I was expecting to see a final sign that read, "And thus concludes our tour of Moses Park." But you know what? Nothing. The last sign I saw pointed left, so I walked and walked and walked without seeing another arrow, eventually walking my way into the middle of a huge rice field. I looked in all directions for another green sign, but didn't see one. Nor did I see anymore people or cars. Just rice fields and a desolate road. Oh, and crows. Lots of crows. Symbolic of death in most movies.
"I'm a survivor, damn it. Follow your instincts!" I told myself. Sadly, my only instinct was to hail a cab, but there weren't any around.
Just then, ever so faintly, I heard bells. Not death tolls, mind you. They were the kind of bells you hear when a train is crossing a street and the gates are coming down. I walked briskly toward that sound and ended up at the train tracks. Standing on them, I looked in one direction and then the other. No station within eyesight. Following the tracks (in the wrong direction, I later discovered), I finally ended up at a train station (one past Hodatsu) almost two hours later. Had I walked in the opposite direction, I would have reached Hodatsu station within thirty minutes. It's moments like these that my parents should be glad I'm an atheist. Otherwise, I would have been cursing god for that; instead, I'm forced to blame myself.
So I sat at that wrong station for another two hours, watching the paint peel off of the walls, and spiders go in for the kill. It was just like a nature documentary, except totally boring. The place reeked of neglect. But I had to take a few pictures because, despite my bug bites, tired feet and possible melanoma, I thought the entire situation was hilarious. I snapped and giggled, snapped and giggled, checking my watch to make sure I could still make it to the UFOs before closing time.