I wasn't sure how to write about Expo 2005 in Aichi, Japan. There really isn't a good way to approach the topic without running into the same degree of confusion, fascination and discombobulation that one is faced with when visiting this enigmatic event.

What makes Expo interesting to begin with, is the fact that the majority of people to whom I've spoken, both Japanese and International, didn't seem to know what Expo was, (not just this one, but any Expo), let alone the fact that it was happening virtually in their backyard, or at least a three-hour drive away. I suppose, given the inward-looking nature of Japan as a whole, and the rural overtones of the city where I live, I shouldn't be terribly surprised. Those factors might certainly have something to do with it. On the other hand, when the number of visitors to Expo in one day exceeds the population of Kofu, over 200,000 people, somebody obviously received the memo in their Inbox and made the effort to attend.

Of those people who have at least heard of Expo, or perhaps caught some footage on TV while watching the evening news, plans of our travel to go see it were met with rather negative comments.

“Don't go,” they screamed. “You'll be waiting for over two hours in 30-degree weather just to get into a pavillion.”

“Bad idea,” they insisted. “You cannot park your car anywhere.”

“It's not worth it,” they suggested helpfully. “You'll just pay a lot of money to find yourself shoulder-to-shoulder with a zillion people.”

Leave it to the Japanese to enigmatize and put a Zen-like spin even on such an international event. There WERE people waiting for over two hours in 30-degree weather, but there weren't. There WASN'T any parking, but there was lots. It WAS shoulder-to-shoulder people, but it wasn't. Perhaps there is little more to it than a simple matter of the cup being half-empty rather than half-full, but nevertheless, I could see why people were discouraging us to go; they are usually the same people who advise us not to drive to Tokyo because we will get lost and there is no place to park.

Well, since everything is just a simple matter of perspective, let me provide mine. The like-mindedness of people, in particular within Japanese culture, dictated that the wait for many of Expo's pavillions would be much longer than for others. Unless you had your heart set on visiting the American, Canadian, or Japanese pavillions, your average wait-time to see something would be greatly diminished. It's almost like being back in high-school, where you either belonged to the “cool crowd” or you were one of the unpopular kids who generally had few friends and were the last one to get picked to play on sports team. Among the “cool countries' pavillions to visit,” I would also have to include: China, Korea, Russia, Australia, Egypt, Germany, Singapore and France. Each of these had ridiculous queues, where indeed, a two-hour wait would not be unusual. If, however, you wandered by Uzbekistan or Yemen, the only trouble you'd have getting in would be the security guard at the exit door telling you to please enter the pavillion on the other side.

Parking was a non-issue. There were a number of designated parking lots for the event, though nowhere near the entrance gate, were perfectly accessible via shuttle busses running constantly all day. 2,500 yen seemed a little steep, however that is not the cost per person, but per car, and that includes the 20-minute ride by shuttle bus for everyone to the Expo grounds.

The real crowd was at the entrance gate. That's where you truly became part of a humungous crowd of people, packed shoulder-to-shoulder, being herded like cattle through the entrance gates, past airport-like security, where bags were searched, PET bottle confiscated, and swiss-army pocket knives held by security for the duration of my stay, presumably to prevent me from attacking some poor lackey from the French pavillion for incorrectly having served me a steak with Chablis instead of Chateau-Neuf-Du-Pape, forcing me to corkscrew him to death. Fortunately, such tragedy was duly prevented by the diligent Expo security staff and the prohibitively long lineup in front of the French pavillion, prompting me to look for a strangely absent Algerian pavillion. Come to think of it, I couldn't find many other pavillions either. Afghanistan, Libya, many Middle-Eastern countries including Israel, virutally any disputed land or territory, or pretty much anywhere that might give someone the impression that the world isn't a happy, peaceful place where everything looks like a glossy tourism brochure, and its smiling inhabitants are all clad in the national constumes of their country, ready to welcome tourists and sell them hand-crafted ethnic products. No, it just wouldn't do to have Jews and Arabs hurling insults and rocks at each other in the middle of the Expo Plaza. In fact, even the participating countries did a great job of removing any evidence of virtually anything depressing or serious, from famine in Africa, tsunami relief in Indonesia, to the Khmer Rouge victim memorials in Cambodia. You can hardly blame them for not having even a trace of such heavy subjects, but it makes a visit to Expo strangely surreal, and out-of-worldy knowing that those problems really do exist. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, but I think we do owe it to ourselves, in the name of honesty, to be reminded of such things.

I was trying to think of which pavillions we visited in our two trips to Expo. More or less, in order, here's what I can remember:

Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Qatar, Iran, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, El Salvador, Costa Rica, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Panama, Belize, Honduras, Ecuador, Venezuela, Peru, Bolivia, Argentina, Dominican Republic, Mexico, UN (United Nations), Cuba, Greece, Morocco, Ukraine, Czech Republic, Ireland, Rumania, Portugal, Austria, Swizerland, Belgium, Iceland, Sweeden, Denmark, Norway, Finland, the Netherlands, the U.K., Russia, Angola, Uganda, Ethiopia, Eritria, Ghana, Gabon, Cameroon, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Kenya, Ivory Coast, Congo, D.R. Congo, Sao tome and Principe, Zambia, Djibouti, Zimbabwe, Sudan, Senegal, Tanzania, Chad, Nigeria, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Benin, Madagascar, Mali, Mauritania, Rwanda, South Africa, New Zealand, Thailand, Cambodia, Philipines, Laos, Malaysia, Vietnam, Brunei, Kiribati, Samoa, Solomon Islands, Tuvalu, Tonga, Vanatu, Paupa New Guinea, Palau, Fiji Islands, Marshall Islands, Micronesia, Indonesia, Cuba (again), India, Nepal, Korea, China, Australia.

Impressed? You should be! That's 95 countries we saw at Expo! Unless I forgot some. Actually, I have a confession to make. That list is a little exagerated, because the actual number of pavillions visited is much less, since many countries were pooled together in one building. If I were to count only the number of independent pavillions we saw, the number drops down to 48, which would include the UN pavillion, our second visit to the Cuban pavillion, and the Japanese Forest and Rain pavillion. Even that is a large number of things to see and do in a timeframe of two whole days. Some pavillions were very quick to go through, as there wasn't very much detailed information about the country, or the pavillion itself was small, with a limited exhibit. Cuba was one such pavillion. It's main highlights were their photographs of Ernest Hemmingway collection, Cuban bar where you could buy Mojitos and Cuba Libres, a tourism movie playing that was exalting the virtues of the island, and a humidor with genuine Cuban cigars. That was the purpose of a return trip to the Cuban pavillion on our second trip - to purchase some Cohibas and a few other good-quality cigars. I don't smoke, but I have been known to enjoy a rare Cuban with some red wine or single-malt scotch. Maybe now, just a little less rare with my latest purchase of stoggies from Expo.

The pinnacle of my second visit to the Cuban pavillion was the lady who sold me my cigars. She seemed genuinely surprised that I would care to buy more than just a single cigar, and kept telling me that they were very expensive. I thanked her for her concern, but assured her that the rarity of these cigars alone, nevermind the fact that I would assuredly pay more in Tokyo or any other major Japanese city for that matter would make up for the higher price. It wasn't so bad anyway. A small Cohiba would run you about 1,500 yen and a thin Quintero, about 1,000.

When I saw her pull out a cigar box from which she was taking out the last ten cigars to refill her humidor, I had enough presence of mind to ask her whether I could have the now empty box. She flashed me a strange look, as if to indicate, “why on earth would you want such a useless bit of trash?” but she shrugged her shoulders, and proceeded to put my purchase back into the box I had requested.

Then, much to my surprise, after I paid for my cigars, she told me to wait a moment, as she retreated into a back room that abutted onto the main area. A moment later she reappeared holding a beautiful mahogany Cohiba cigar box.

“If you like empty cigar boxes, you can have this one too,” she said as she handed it to me with the faint trace of a smile on her face. Now, I'm no serious collector of cigar boxes, but quite often their ornate artwork and wooden construction make them an elegant way to store miscellaneous odds and ends around the house after their contents have been smoked.

Other than that, another pavillion that sticks in my mind is the Czech pavillion. The Czechs really did a wonderful job of bringing to life Expo's theme: the wisdom of nature. At first glance, the entire interior was completely psychadelic! It looked like the design team had gone on a week-long bender consisting of absinthe, weed, and enough LSD to satisfy even the late Hunter S. Thompson in the depths of an ether binge. Whether this was indeed the case or not, I doubt we will ever know, but to the casual observer, it would certainly appear as a confused collection of kaleidoscopic and sonorific effects, each contributing to an overall cacophony that resembled a child's playroom invented by a joint venture between Timothy Leary and Rube Goldberg.

I doubt very many people actually “got it” before walking out in sheer confusion. But those who did must have been quite delighted at having decyphered the mystery of this enigmatic pavillion. The whole concept behind it all, was an amphitheatre, or concert hall not unlike somplace you may have gone before, to listen to a classical music recital or theatre play. In place of seats, (where they might normally be found) were only plain steps leading upward to the top of the hall. Scattered on various steps were various “musical instruments” mde from wood, rocks and otherwise “natural” items, and large kaleidoscopes which used patterns from various insects and fossils to project patterns around the hall. In effect, the premise of it was, that the visitors to the pavillion were not just the audience to a concert, but unwitting musicians in the orchestra and lighting/special effects technicians as well.

The centre of the amphitheatre was, of course the stage. It was a shallow pool of water, set up as an elaborate fountain, and sitting in the water was an old piano that worked, but only barely. Also present was some type of pipe organ which seemed to be powered using the water that was flowing through the fountain and pool somehow.

The overall cacophony, wasn't at all unpleasant, actually. Surprisingly enough, it gave the entire hall an etherial ambiance that made you feel like you just stepped into a science-fiction scene. In fact, the whole effect was not unlike a couple of online point-and-click games made by a Czech design firm: Amanita Designs. If you ever have time, check out “Samorost” and “The Quest for the Rest” and you will get a really accurate feel for what I'm talking about.

Of course, the Czech pavilion would not be complete without a shop selling Bohemian crystal and other typically Czech products. Nor would it be complete without a cafe, with wonderful Czech dishes, Moravian wine, and the quintessential BEER!

The first flavour of true Czech atmosphere was the lack of attention we received upon walking in. I figured I'd have some fun, or at least turn a few heads so I addressed the waiter in Czech in requesting a table. He barely even acknowledged me, merely pointing towards the back of the cafe, answering in Czech, to “park it wherever I wanted.” The extreme slow-motion customer service was very reminiscent of the Czech Republic, let me assure you. What I didn't realize, however, was that they had taken the time to bring in actual TV celebrity chefs (who host their own cooking shows on Czech prime-time television) to create the dishes. I must say, I was VERY impressed! The meal we had was 5-star, from the presentation to the taste it was truly amazing! The added bonus was, my Czech conversation with the head waiter snagged me a 50% discount on the food (not the beer or wine) because I was Czech...

I definitely would not mind attending the next World Expo in a few years. I would even be willing to travel to whichever country will host it, making it a nice holiday. Bonnie and I agree, however, that we wouldn't mind visiting China for the next Olympic Games. If we are still in Japan when they roll around, it would be only a quick hop over, and the flight price would certainly be reasonable. Excursions like this, however, are far from free and even staying within Japan to make two 1-day visits to Expo set us back a few hundred dollars. It was well worth it though.