Longing for Lodging

The whole idea of booking a room in Hakuba, site of the men’s Alpine ski events in these Olympic Games, was to avoid the predicted nightmarish, two-hours-if-you’re-lucky, bus commute from vehicle-choked Nagano.

So wasn’t I surprised to have been placed by Olympic organizers in an outpost, Pension Agape, so far removed from the ski venue that it requires two bus connections and an hour to get to the ski hill.

In the Olympic hotel galaxy that revolves around Hakuba, my hotel is the equivalent of Pluto. The pension is tucked so far away in the Japan Alps that I, not surprisingly, lost all desire to finish the book I brought along for the trip: Jon Krakauer’s “Into Thin Air,” the harrowing account of a botched Mount Everest ascent.

This hideaway is so atmospherically challenged that I can look down the valley and see the top of the Olympic downhill course.

Did I mention that most of my ski-writing colleagues are lodging at hotels within walking distance of the downhill finish area?

Hey, I’m not complaining.

Tor, my new best Norwegian friend and a writer for an Oslo daily, was telling me over warm salad and cold duck at a hastily arranged dinner at Agape that a colleague of his arrived at a nearby pension after 10 p.m. and the manager refused to register him because it was after hours.

Tor said his friend slept in his car. The next morning, the guy went in to inquire about breakfast and the manager refused him again, saying that patrons had to request breakfast the night before.

My pension is located in Tsugaike-Kogen, which I believe in Japanese means “nosebleed section.”

Tsugaike-Kogen is the last stop on the bus route. You can then either walk another 15 minutes to the Agape or call Kohtaro, a pension employee who will happily swing down in a gondola to pick you up.

I would suggest taking the ride, especially if you have contracted strep throat, which I apparently have. Not to worry, though, for an Olympic employee--who will obviously remain nameless--has been most generous with his secret stash of antibiotics.

That’s all for now. Will write more when the vertigo subsides and I can swallow without pain.

Coldest regards.

P.S. Please send oxygen!