An Easier Way to View Mt. Fuji

Nutritious, Enticing Offerings from Korean Air to Accompany my Volcano-Viewing
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When I was a little girl, I often fantasized about watching the first rays of morning light scattering over Japan from atop Fuji-san, the "tallest mountain in the world" according to one of my 3rd-grade junior high students. "You'll get there, someday, and by the way, climb it for me, eh?" my father asked me on his death-bed. I even promised myself that after having climbed it, I'd get myself a little tatoo of the kanji characters for "Fujisan, for Dad" on my ankle.

But 6 years later, the skin on my ankle is still white and pristine as Fuji's snow in December. And as of yet, I've never done the climb, myself (although I've been to the base near Kawaguchi-ko) So why haven't I climbed it, yet? What am I waiting for?

Polluting the Air Over Mt. Fuji With My Plane
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After hearing on Japanese local news that Mt. Fuji was ineligible to be a UNESCO World Heritage Site because of its "mountains" of garbage scattered around its forest and streams, I kind of lost interest. Simple as that. If I want to look at old, rusty refrigerators and TV sets polluting a beautiful woodland stream, I can just walk down the hill about half an hour.

But flying over Mt. Fuji is quite another story. To tell you the truth, my first real view of Japan was Fuji-san as we circled Kanto on the approach into Narita. Japanese people love to hear my story of how hard I cried when I first saw Mt. Fuji from the plane, realizing my childhood dream was coming true. Pristine and perfect, this was my first impression of all that was good and beautiful about Japan.

Again, Mt. Fuji (better from up here than up close, folks, believe you me).
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To be fair, I have to admit a little guilt here, realizing that my flight was contributing to the pollution problem around Japan's most sacred landmark.  Flying over Mt. Fuji (en route to Seoul, S. Korea) made me think of how we humans in rich countries tend to view the world we live in: if we can't see it, it's not a problem. Same thing goes for poverty, homelessness, suffering, even litter. Seeing Fuji in this light filled my soul with the poetic, Zen-like need to go home and pick up the trash the 50-year-old bicycle-race goers threw into our yard last week, and maybe do some volunteer cleaning down the hill as well.