armed against the beast, I set out in search of whiskey and chicken

Furukawa, situated as it is on a low plain between two mountain ranges, acts as a kind of geographical outlet of a wind-tunnel. And even on the street beside the 7-Eleven, just beyond the shoe-store and the petrol station, when the snow falls in sheet upon sheet from an utter blackness overhead and the wind oppresses, pushes your feet off course, it cannot be forgotten what an alien and ancient place this is. For the first time, I felt my latitude and the nearness of the sea--stinging my face, and pressing on the back of my legs through the jeans--and I begin (only begin mind you) to understand the Russians.

This I write from my laptop inside my moderately-well-heated apartment, just moments away from falling back into the recliner I just bought from the department store.

But I must say the smartest investment I ever made was my NorthFace synthetic. It keeps me safe, at all costs, like Dick Cheney.