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Skiing Japan’s mountain madness

As far as ideas go, this doesn’t seem like one of my best. The front 10 centimetres of my snowboard juts out over the edge of a 20-metre vertical drop. The backlit spike of Mt Iwate hovers ahead like an apparition. A sea of snow peaks and troughs below me, little powdery tornados forming on its surface. The world shrinks. I start making slushies in my stomach. All I can hear is my breath and the blood pounding in my ears. I shimmy closer to the edge, point my board down and count slowly to three.

Shimokura at Hachimantai is one of 17 ski areas dispersed around Iwate-san, the highest peak (2038 metres) in the Tohoku region of northern Honshu, Japan. Here, powder is god, foreigners are unheard of and if you don’t attempt a three-metre wide, double-black diamond run – even as a beginner – then you’re missing out.

I arrived at Appi, the first stop on my itinerary, a complete novice snowboarder (I’ve attempted it once before). My mission, over the next seven days, is to sample several of the best ski areas in the Iwate prefecture and go home a confident boarder.

I exit the chairlift on the first day – one foot strapped to my board – with the grace of a two-tonne elephant. Parking myself on the side of the wide, powdery white, groomed run, I try to make a snowball. But the tiny snowflakes refuse to stick and float away from my gloves like dust. This is what they mean by aspirin snow. It’s the light, dry and just-right stuff that makes even the most diehard snow junkie regress to a giggly 10-year-old.

On the edge at Shimokura.
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The unusual onsen at Tazawako, near Amihari.
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“An ogre once lived on the mountain,” says Aki, my guide, pointing to the cup-shaped summit of nearby Iwate as I click the other foot into my board. “He kept annoying the local people so they asked him to stop. The ogre promised he would, but the people made him sign a contract by putting his hand on the rock. That’s how Mt Iwate got its name ‘rock hand’.”

I soon discover the most scenic, and thrilling, run down a mountain in Tohoku is achievable for even the most timid boarder. Appi’s yamabato run is a 5.5-kilometre beginner trail that starts at the summit of Mt Maemori and ends 20 minutes later at the backdoor to the hotel. It’s one of just a handful of spots in the region where beginners can actually descend from a mountain top.

Midway down the run, my concentration wavers from piloting my snowboard to looking around in awe. The outline of Iwate looms behind us as we glide over plains and past young forests. I hear the occasional swish-swish of ski pants and some nasally J-pop drifting from speakers as we pass the gondola.

It’s not long before I take my first tumble. After the initial shock of being rotated as if I’m on a spin cycle, I realise it’s more like rolling around in fluff. As soon as I recompose myself, the adrenaline kicks in. I soon find a rhythm and any fear of falling evaporates. My board gains momentum at shocking speed and I arrive at the bottom with a ridiculous grin on my face.

Another powder-perfect day.
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I spend the next couple of days getting some quality boarding time under my belt. I test out the gentle slopes of Shizukuishi, the intermediate snow at Geto Kogen and the squeaky blue-tinged runs at Tazawako, which offer a spectacular panoramic view of Lake Tarawa – at 423 metres, Japan’s deepest lake.

By the end of the fourth night, I’ve pretty much mastered turning, but my lower body feels like it’s in a coma. It’s time to test out the onsen.

The après-ski scene in Tohoku is far from the VB-swilling hoards at Niseko. Here, bars are non-existent, painful karaoke renditions of ‘Like a Virgin’ are mandatory, and steaming, sulphur-infused hot springs to relieve sore muscles are a must.

I find a particularly unusual onsen one evening at my hotel near Amihari. Instead of a hot tub and wet room with all the little soaps and shampoos, I discover a long space with unflattering McDonald’s-like lighting and a two-metre wide trough stretching down the middle. A couple of shower-capped heads poke out from beneath the surface of a big mound of dirt, which looks and smells like something you’d feed to a horse.

A woman in a pair of green gumboots steps towards me. She motions for me to disrobe and step into a coffin-sized hole in the muck. I resist the urge to put up a fight when I see she is waving a large garden shovel. Instead, I settle myself naked into the ground and watch as she covers me in chaff.

I’m told that the Japanese fermented rice bran bath has super-strong healing powers. The bran, which gets heated up to a toasty 55°C, is supposed to aid muscle relaxation, help weight loss and decrease body fat by up to three per cent. Why hasn’t Oprah cottoned on to this yet?

Twenty minutes in and I’m sweating like a stuffed chicken in a roasting tray. I signal I’m done to the woman in wellies by sweating through my eyes and squealing like a helpless animal. I wiggle my toes and fingers, break the surface like I’m Godzilla and go to wash up. My skin is smooth and my muscles feel like jelly, but my body smells like breakfast.

Iridescent blue skies and an unusually clear head greet me the next morning at Amihari. I jump onto a completely empty chairlift with my rosy-cheeked guide, Koami, heading towards the summit of Mt Inukura. Beneath my dangling legs, snow-cloaked firs give way to rows and rows of cedar trees, their powdery branches twisted like arthritic fingers in the chilly air. At times, the chairlift rumbles as it rises higher into the clouds. At other times, Koami breaks long-spells of silence with offers of “Beautiful?”, “Cold?” or “Mint chew?”

Three chairlifts later, I’m at the top of the mountain crunching through waist-deep snow. My arms struggle to hold onto my board with each gravity-defying moon-like leap. The low sun paints everything with a golden light and long blue shadows. A gentle wind sends peppery crystals into the sky. I follow Komai’s tracks like a snow-blind explorer. My mind oscillates between illusions of Santa’s Grotto and dancing elves in silly hats with bells.

After 10 minutes, we reach the beginning of the run. I struggle to strap in with so much snow, especially when my whole body is shaking with anticipation. I signal to Koami that I am ready, shuffle my hips, lean in and fly.

The snow before me gives way and I lose sight of my legs. Speed builds rapidly; fear disintegrates like snowflakes. It’s like riding the world’s creamiest ice-cream. My board sinks, scoops and glides as I rock all my weight to my back foot. We cut through some adventurous – possibly out-of-bounds – terrain that causes me to go faster and imagine I’m being chased by spies in the latest James Bond blockbuster.

“Sorry for snow,” apologises Koami, when I land back on earth 30 minutes later. “Not good season. We normally have many, many more snow.” I take a moment to catch my breath and finish shaking the entire Iwate prefecture from my goggles.

Over the next few days, if I’m not on the slopes then I find it impossible to concentrate. We sail the Geibikei (Geibi Gorge) in a traditional yakatabune (houseboat) and I picture myself getting airborne between the 100-metre cliffs. We go to see a festival of giant snow castles and Kirin bears at Koiwai Farm and I want to upturn a plastic tray and scream down the toboggan run. Instead of admiring the history of the Buddhist temple of Chuson-ji or the samurai houses of Kakunodate, I become transfixed by a pile of grubby snow under a bare cherry blossom. Snowboarding, it seems, has become an obsession.

And that brings me to the final day of my trip and back to the vertical drop at Shimokura. I suck in a deep breath and silently yell, “Three!” My emotions flit from nerves to excitement to an overwhelming sense of dread. The snow before me parts like I’m Moses and it’s the Red Sea. I hear myself yelp and whoop – or maybe it’s a scream – before a white wave swallows me.

After days of hardcore lower-body work and a whole load of thrills (and spills), I’m done. The mission is complete. Collapsing at the bottom of the mountain, legs shaking, I look back up at the black double-diamond run I’ve just survived. Over seven days, I’ve skied six different spots. I’ve boarded through snow so light and dry it disappears in your fingers. I’ve been up mountains, down runs, through forests and, most importantly, I’ve had a ball. After all, I conclude, often it’s the seemingly stupid ideas that actually end up being the best.

Alam Anda Ocean Front Resort & Spa

An adults-only holiday in Bali that’s far from the crowds? It’s rare, but possible. A stay at Alam Anda Ocean Front Resort & Spa goes way beyond the ordinary beach holiday, allowing you to experience this island in its real sense and immerse yourself in a traditional Balinese environment.

The four-star resort is boutique in size and offers beautiful, traditional single-storey bungalows and villas, each designed in typical Balinese style.

Pamper yourself in Alam Anda’s fantastic spa, wellness and relaxation area, then learn what Balinese cuisine is all about with a cooking class at the resort and a trip to the local market.

Water babies will find an exceptional dive centre at the resort, with world-class dive schools and a house reef just off the beach. There are some incredible dives in close proximity to the resort, too, including the wreck of the USS Liberty. For something land-based, a drive past rice fields, coffee and cocoa plantations to the great temple Pura Ulun Danu Batur at the edge of the crater of the Batur Volcano offers memorable scenery.

Holy Ruins of Beng Mealea

Forget tourist-heavy Angkor Wat. Some 40 kilometres east you’ll find Beng Mealea, a large unrestored temple that’s completely overrun by nature. Built in the twelfth century, the temple is surrounded by a 45-metre-wide moat (mostly dry) and once marked the centre of an Angkorian-era town.

Now in a state of disrepair, the maze-like ruins are best navigated with a guide. To access the most interesting parts you’ll need to climb over large stones, up walls and around dense foliage. It’s sweaty work but worth the effort.

Nomads Land

The beautiful, tiny and undeveloped island of Koh Totang is part of a 12-island archipelago in Cambodia’s Koh Kong province. The only accommodation here is Nomads Land, an eco-friendly guesthouse, restaurant and bar that relies solely on rainwater and solar panels, keeping it completely off the grid.

Five rustic bungalows face the beachfront, each with a private terrace and hammock perfect for lazy days. The island is surrounded by coral reef, so find a hidden beach on the rocky shore, grab a mask, and fin over the ocean life. Go searching for iguanas in the jungle. At night, phosphorescence gives the beach a neon glow and fireflies illuminate the sky. It’s only a five-kilometre boat ride to Koh Sdach, the largest island in the group – head there and check out the fishing village if you’re in need of a little more stimulation after a few days spent swimming and strolling.

Would you like some venomous snake wine?

Step 1) Find a glass bottle.
Step 2) Stick a whole venomous snake in it, like say, a cobra.
Step 3) Leave it to ferment so the venom seeps into the alcohol.
Step 4) Try and get Westerners to drink it by telling them it cures everything from poor eyesight to hair loss.

If you’re feeling particularly brave, drunk or stupid, you might also have a go at downing a shot of blood from the still-beating heart of a snake. It, like so many things in Asia, is said to increase male virility.

Head to the reputable snake meat and liquor restaurant, Quoc Trieu, in the famed ‘snake village’ of Le Mat near Hanoi. There you will find all manner of snake dishes and, if you request, they can even source you a live cobra.

Ora Beach Resort

Hidden away in a remote section of the north coast on Indonesia’s Seram Island is Ora Beach Resort, where accommodation is kept deliberately simple to highlight the sheer natural beauty of the surrounds. Only accessible by water, the resort is not easy to get to, but if you do brave the trip – via plane, ferry, car and fishing boat – you’ll be more than rewarded. Think steep limestone cliffs, powdery white sands, electric-blue waters, delicate coral reefs, mountains carpeted with riotously lush rainforest and more than 117 species of exotic birds.

Stay in one of the five stilted bungalows that jut out over the reef – perfect for fishing from the balcony – and get up close and personal with the breathtaking marine life on a dive or snorkelling adventure.

Kapalai Dive Resort

Like something out of the film Waterworld, Kapalai Dive Resort is built on stilts on a reef amongst some of the world’s most stunning scuba diving in the Celebes Sea. For those wanting to escape the world, sitting on a deck chair watching the sun go down over the mainland on the distant horizon is the perfect tonic.

Rooms are more than comfortable – obviously all over water – with well-designed private decks for some serious après-dive chilling. The centre of the main dining room has an open void through to the reef below, and it’s not uncommon to see live versions of your dinner swimming past.

The resort is a web of rich wood walkways connecting the rooms with dining areas, the dive department and even a beach rotunda; the perfect spot for a cool sundowner. This might be predominantly a divers’ resort, but there is plenty to do for non-divers, with a white-sand beach materialising at low tide and excellent snorkelling from any part of the resort. For the divers, you’re only a 20-minute boat ride to Sipadan, one of the world’s most stunning dive sites.

Benjamin Law teaches sex ed in Myanmar

Sex education barely exists in Myanmar, and yet somehow I’d been roped into teaching sex ed classes in Yangon. I was spending the evening in a hokey internet cafe near Sule, pulling images off Google to compile a PowerPoint slideshow for the lesson.

“This is what the female reproductive system looks like from the front,” I imagined myself saying to the Burmese students. “And this is what it looks like when a woman spreads her legs.”

I compiled images and bullet points outlining the main symptoms of gonorrhoea, syphilis, herpes and chlamydia. By the end of the evening, I’d trawled through so many images of infections, diseases and pus-filled genitals, I suspected I didn’t ever want to have sex again. I definitely had developed a new-found aversion to mayonnaise.

My lesson plan was simple: basic anatomy, reproduction, sexual risks and diseases, safer sex, anonymous question time. I would be a bastion of open learning! I would democratise this country through frank discussions about genitals!

I compared notes with my fellow teacher – an American girl named Hannah – before we split off into separate classrooms of men and women. My classroom was a small air-conditioned room, and the 10 students were adult men. They looked at me expectantly.

“OK, before we start, let’s lay out some rules,” I said. “Number one. There are no stupid questions. Every question is a good question!”

They nodded uncertainly.

“Also, you’re allowed to laugh!” I said. “Because let’s face it, sex can be funny sometimes!”

They shot secret grins at each other. I grinned back like an idiot. See, this isn’t so scary.

I booted up my laptop and brought up the anatomy slideshow. We started off with the male reproductive system – familiar friends like the penis, testicles, vas deferens and urethra. My fingers traced over my laptop screen like a television weatherman, whose forecast consisted entirely of dick.

“See, this is where the urine goes,” I heard myself saying. “And that’s the thing that makes the semen.”

Everyone nodded. Before we moved onto the female reproductive system, I offered a pop quiz called ‘How Many Holes Does a Woman Have?’

“One!” someone said.

Howls of laughter.

“They have two,” someone else said. “One is anus, the other is for the baby.”

A few boys nodded in agreement.

“No, they have three,” another guy said smugly. “Anus, vagina, urine hole.”

I said he was correct – ding ding ding! – then brought up the slides. We went through it all together: the ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus and urethra. I explained that when some women ovulated, they cramped up badly in pain. Later in the 28-day cycle, when they were menstruating, they would bleed a lot, and that all of this was why guys had to be very nice to women and respect them, because they really went through a lot, didn’t they? Everyone nodded sombrely. I felt we were making good ground.

We went through the voyage of puberty and the marvels of reproduction. When we talked about the changes that happened in the male body during puberty, I also brought up wet dreams and masturbation. From a medical perspective, I said, no one could possibly damage their bodies from excess masturbation, and everyone’s posture simultaneously adjusted with private relief.

Just as I started to feel smug about how comprehensive my lesson was, students started asking questions, like: “Is it okay to drug women and sleep with them, using the ‘special juice’?” Dear god. Trying my best not to sound like a shrill, scandalised nun, we talked at length about concepts like consent, choice, rape and possible prison terms. The lesson ended when I split the class up into different corners of the room, so they had privacy to write their final questions. I collected them in a bucket, and told them every question would be answered the next lesson.

– What happens if you drink vagina fluid or semen?
– Pubic hair. Can it help or hinder sex?  What is it there for?
– What does the hymen look like?
– Is there medicine to give pleasure to the woman in sex?
– Friend has inflammation of uterus after sex. Qhat should she do?
– What is homosexuality? Is it wrong?
– What is the point of oral sex?
– Spot in Woman’s vagina that can cause sexual pleasure for the female.
IS THIS TRUE?

Jesus. Like everything else in Myanmar, we clearly had a long way to go. But, hey, we’d made a start. And in this country, that is everything.

Azerbaijan

Sip on lemon tea at dusk and watch the mountainside burn. Azerbaijan, known as The Land of Fire, is home to many natural gas outlets that have been firing up unabated along the Absheron Peninsula for some for centuries. In the 1700s this natural wonder attracted the attention of Zoroastrians, who built temples around the flames and worshipped the fire for its cleansing properties. In more recent times, the Yanardag mountainside was lit when, rumour has it, an unsuspecting shepherd discarded his cigarette.

And if there’s a burning feeling inside your chest from too much of the local mutton stew – rather than the flaming countryside – take respite in Naftalan where the local oil is said to cure more than 70 ailments, including indigestion.

Before the dissolution of the Soviet Union, Naftalan was an elite tourist hotspot where wealthy Russians would go to soak in oil baths and plot cinema gold – two of the empire’s most famous movies, The Diamond Arm (1969) and Amphibian Man (1962), were filmed in Azerbaijan and sold more than 70 million tickets each. But Azerbaijan isn’t just a USSR relic; it’s a country on the move and one devoted to reclaiming its tourism industry. The country was host to the Eurovision Song Contest in 2012 and the 2015 European Games, which saw a rise in infrastructure and accessibility. The Armenian borders are still sketchy, but the Land of Fire is open and ready to blow.

Find your MOJO

When you think of Myanmar, French wine and Italian cold cuts probably don’t come to mind, but MOJO is setting out to change that. At this one-of-a-kind venue your mission is to relax, unwind and connect over a menu made for sharing. Here, management serves up a brilliant mix of Mediterranean and Indochine cuisine and tapas, along with an impressive list of wines, cocktails and shots, all designed to be enjoyed by groups of friends around large tables.

The decor is minimalist but unpretentious – think bare brick walls and wooden beams – the atmosphere is laid-back but festive, and there’s always something on. Come for the sangria jugs and tapas and stay for the themed party and all-night dancing.

WHICH LETTER DOES YOUR DESTINATION START WITH?

region: Asia