Some winters it snows five meters. Other winters it snows fifteen feet. Either way, that's a lot of snow. When summer comes to Sapporo, we need very little excuse to enjoy it, and the World Cup is giving us more excuse than ever. This section is dedicated to summer in Hokkaido, and to the travelers and residents who are lucky to be here for it.

In the beautiful game, only four words are more blessed than "carded for diving." They are "The FIFA World Cup." Sapporo is fortunate to host football's premier event, but it is also anxious about fanatical fans whose behavior has become an obsession of the Japanese media. Will our cup runneth over, we wonder, or will The Cup run us over?
In the spirit of fair play, visitors might ask the same question in reverse: Will bars and restaurants behave, or will they fleece out-of-towners and cold-shoulder international guests?
Visitors will be reassured to hear that Sapporo is Japan's most welcoming city, even though Japan can be a pretty xenophobic place. Nightlife establishments are permitted great leeway in whom to admit, and they have legitimate concerns about hassles. But if you've packed some patience with your sense of adventure, you'll find the nightlife as excellent as the football.
Most of Sapporo's nightlife centers on Susukino, a wonderfully walkable entertainment district that throbs with neon. It spans the blocks from South 4 to South 7 and from West 1 to West 6 (map: p.10), with Eki-mae Dori running north-south down the center.
Your guidebook tells you to venture out with someone who speaks the language, but if you could do that you wouldn't need the guidebook, would you? For dining, give your hotel a price range and cuisine, and have them make your reservations. Visitors with more cultural daring can head to Susukino and ask a local for a recommendation; you might just get an impromptu guide. People here are friendly, and even locals without a second language are likely to try and muddle through with you. Susukino is a strange Bermuda Triangle of casualness.
If a shop gives you a lukewarm welcome, try somewhere else. Be aware that some bars and restaurants plan to close on the days of more volatile matches.
The rule of thumb is that privacy costs. A ground-floor bar with a view of the street will be cheaper and more welcoming than a windowless watering hole tucked into the upper floors.
Some bars and restaurants offer all-you-can-eat and -drink deals (tabehodai and nomihodai, respectively). The most notable is the beer hall at North 7 East 9, northeast of Susukino.
Japanese restaurants are generally called izakaya or washoku-ya, unless they specialize in a certain dish like fugu or noodles. Places serving other cuisines are called resutoran or caf�. If you have trouble reading the menu, ask the waiter for advice, or a fellow diner may help you out.
Don't worry too much about the not-so-beautiful game of overcharging. I've been the subject of only three attempted rip-offs and the same number of honest mistakes in almost a decade, so the odds are with you. It must be said that these odds may shorten during the World Cup. If you're really nervous, pick up a six at the convenience store and head for Odori Park. If there are open-bottle laws in Japan, you wouldn't know it.
If you do have a problem with a bill, ask for an explanation. An English-speaking patron may come to your rescue, or in the worst case you may have to call the police for mediation. Don't lose your temper. One threatening gesture and a brush against someone's shirt, and before you know it you're up for assault. That's how little tolerance there is for that sort of thing, and it's one reason Susukino is safe (the second reason being the vice grip of the Japanese underworld).
The "chaamu" surcharge does not qualify as a problem, but it is a nuisance. Think of it as what you will: a 400-yen seating charge, a fine on barhopping. If you believe, as some do, that it is morally wrong for a restaurant to charge you for your dinner and a place to eat it, then ask beforehand whether there is a chaamu. In Japanese, "no charge" means no chaamu charge, and you'll see this in English on signs and menus.
Although many bars in Susukino don't get humming until after midnight, restaurants are a different story. Few places take orders after 11 p.m.; from then on, it's strictly street food or fast food.
Street food means manju (Chinese-style steamed buns, 250 yen each*), takoyaki (cooked dough filled with octopus, 500 yen for a half-dozen), and corn on the cob (not recommended).
Fast food ranges from hamburgers to curry-and-potstickers, to gyu-don (beef over rice). These places are hardly fine dining a la Japonaise, but you can fill up for less than 1,000 yen and they do offer a cultural experience of sorts.
A more traditional fast-food experience is kaiten-zushi, or "conveyor-belt sushi." Japanese don't consider it proper sushi, but it is inexpensive, tasty, and free of menu hassles: What you see is what you get, and what you get is what you snatch from the conveyor with your own two hands. You pay by color-coded plate (100 to 300 yen). If the dishes are colorful, the patrons are even more so: bar hostesses, students, officeworkers, tourists. Noodle shops (ramen, soba, udon) also offer affordable late-night Japanese food (600 to 1,100 yen; 100 yen extra for a large (o-mori) serving).
Also cheap and hassle-free are restaurants with plastic models, usuallyof Chinese or vaguely Western dishes. If you haven't the chutzpah to drag the waiter outside and point, then carry a pad and jot down an approximation of the Japanese and the price.
Although sunakku and hosutessu baa have bar-like counters and serve drinks, to the Japanese way of thinking they are not bars. They are wombs of conviviality geared to a regular clientele and often featuring fawning women. Many of these places will let you in without a Japanese companion, particularly if you look respectable and your Japanese is up to the challenge. In any case, the charges can be mysterious even for regulars. Your enjoyment at these places really depends on the company you bring, in which case, why not go to a regular bar instead? Sunakku are located in the drinking equivalent of a multiplex cinema: several dozen tiny bars shoehorned into a ten-story building. With a toilet on every floor, they are reliable places to answer the call of nature.
Racier places, sohpurando massage parlors and their ilk, are in a class by themselves. Non-Asians might get in if business is slow: It won't be during the Cup. The prices listed outside generally do not include "extra" services. If it's just a bath you're looking for, try one of the several urban hot springs and saunas downtown. Your hotel will steer you to one.
Other nightlife spots include game centers and what are called karaoke bokkusu (boxes) to distinguish them from karaoke bars. These provide private karaoke rooms for groups and are often found in game centers. You pay for the room by the hour (3,000 for a room that seats 5) and extra for any drinks or food. Discos are also known as kurabbu. To find one, ask a local. These places charge 2,000 or 3,000 yen admission, which earns you one free drink.
The culturally curious might want to visit a supermarket (usually open until 10 p.m.), a convenience store or a pachinko parlor. The last of these does not welcome non-players, but you'll be able to poke your head in. Odori Park, Susukino and Tanuki Koji all are known for their buskers. There will also be large-screen TVs set up in Spica (North 1 West 8) to broadcast FIFA matches.
Ah, Sapporo on a midsummer's eve! What, morning already? Forget your hangover: You've got some football to watch.

For the people of the Ishikari Plain, spring is the season of the apartment hunter. Today we visit exotic Sapporo to witness this timeless search for a niche in the urban jungle.

THE GUIDE

In her apartment safari, one hunter has enlisted a real estate agency. Watch as the agent guides her to bag a place in her desired price range and location. The agent has asked about location, budget and size. The hunter has given her age and occupation. Her employer will probably act as guarantor; otherwise, a surety company will do this for a fee, usually 10% of the monthly rent. Some properties require proof of income. Agencies like this one are particularly useful for the renter who must move by a certain date or who is new to Sapporo. A foreigner who expects to be here for several years can benefit too, as the initial broker's fee is defrayed over a longer time.

THE INSIDER

At a downtown watering hole, we spot another room-seeker. He has been here long enough to have a place already, but not so long that he'll turn up his nose at an upgrade. He bides his time, networking as he waits for another Sapporo resident to succumb to culture shock. The canny insider check's the Hokkaido Insider* and HIBA* online newsletters and the bulletin boards at Sapporo Int'l Communication Plaza and local colleges. If he is lucky, he may find a furnished apartment while avoiding brokerage fees. But he can never know how long he must wait.

THE LONER

This hunter chooses her territory carefully. Stalking her prospective neighborhood, she looks for vacancy signs on utility poles and in apartment windows. She is likely to speak some Japanese, or to hunt with a partner who does. The loner may be able to avoid a broker's fee, but unless she is a native, she stands the chance of being fended off by "unfriendly" owners. She may check for listings in Chintai Jutaku, the Japanese-language housing magazine. Or she may look for public housing (kodan) listed each month at Hokkaido Jutaku Kyokyu Kosha (North 3 West 7, phone: 261-9271). She knows these units are limited in location and availability. But she also knows they do not discriminate by nationality, and they don't require a broker's fee or guarrantor.

CHARGES

Success! The house hunter now pays one to three month's rent as damage deposit (shikikin) and advance rent (mae yachin). It is rare for an owner in Sapporo to ask for key money (reikin), except for condominium rentals, but hunters who have used an agent pay the broker's fee, which is usually a month's rent. There may also be insurance charges and dubious fees for changing the locks and cleaning the pipes when you move out. Read the contract carefully.

And so the sun sets on majestic Sapporo. Looking back, I know that I will never forget these people of the Ishikari, these...apartment hunters in the mist.

KING OF THE CONDO

Rule 1 of buying real estate in Japan is to pay in cash. Sure, you can get a loan, but you'll need proof of income, three years' employment at the same company, and permanent residency. The exception is Citibank, which will lend if your Japanese spouse cosigns.
When buying, you'll pay a commission to the broker, a registration fee to the local government and a license tax (touroku menkyo zei) to the national government. Don't forget the estate acquisition tax (fudousan shutoku zei), fixed property tax (kotei shisan zei), and contract stamp fee (keiyaku-sho inshi). If you are a permanent resident and use bank loans, you'll need guarantor, service charge for the bank and a fire insurance fee. And bring your resident's card (juumin hyo) If you don't have a guarantor, you need to pay a fee to a surety association.
When selling, you'll need to pay the agent's commission and a fee for the contract stamp (keiyaku-sho inshi). If you sell at a profit, you'll need to pay the flip tax (joto zei).

In most developed countries these days, it is a given that a man and a woman usually marry for love. Even though nearly half of these marriages end in divorce, the basic precept that both parties enter the marriage lovingly and willingly is unshakeable. The idea of an arranged marriage, where wedlock is the culmination of negotiation and transaction, is anathema to many. This is not only because of the perceived loss of independence that it entails, but also because our obsession with the idea of love makes marrying without love seem empty and basically wrong. Surely arranged marriages are an anachronism from the Middle Ages, where the women are chattel, the parents are absolutist, the process is medieval, and the punishment for not accepting the proffered groom or bride is banishment.
Many visitors to Japan are surprised to still find arranged marriages here. Yet, are these anything like the medieval version? I set out to get the lowdown on Japanese arranged marriages, or omiai.
Omiai is the system of arranging marriage through contacts who act as matchmakers. The matchmaker, or nakodo, does all the organizing for the couple and acts as a go-between. This intermediary can be a relative, a family friend, a friend-of-a-friend or a business associate.
Miyako, the wife of a successful businessman, has acted as nakodo many times. She is a charming lady whom people approach because of her many connections. Usually parents present her with resumes and photographs of their son or daughter, and Miyako passes them on to possible matches. If both parties are suitably impressed, she will arrange a meeting between them. Sometimes their parents attend, too. The meeting is usually held on neutral territory, such as in a hotel or restaurant. Afterwards Miyako will talk to each side. If the couple hit it off, they may start dating. If not, it is up to Miyako to break the news. This is particularly difficult if one party is interested but the other is not. If Miyako's efforts are unsuccessful, the parties may seek other nakodo to help them secure a mate. Etiquette has it that if there is a successful match the couple should express their appreciation in the form of a gift to the nakodo. This is usually financial, and may be a one-off, or an annual gratuity for a certain number of years.

Traditionally, omiai secured good lineage, and offspring probably had little choice other than to follow their parents' directive to marry a chosen partner. However, all that has changed, and while parents still tend to be involved, they may not be the main instigators, as people may seek out their own matchmaker. Furthermore, the decision to tie the knot ultimately rests with the couple contemplating marriage.
So why do people need omiai? Why not just go out and find a date? Miki (31) thinks that single, professional Japanese in search of a partner need help with the dating game because they are shy and find it hard to talk to strangers. Takayuki (27) agrees.
"People can talk to each other when they are younger but when you get older and have more responsibilities to society and to your company, it's harder to be so carefree and meet people so easily," he says.
Remy (29) thinks Japanese women want financial security when they marry. The only way to be guaranteed this is to be set up with someone whose financial status is clearly laid out at the start of the relationship, as it is in omiai. Ayano (27) believes omiai is useful for people who don't want to waste time when it comes to marriage. Why waste time developing a relationship with the distant possibility of marriage, when you can get straight to the point through omiai?
Indeed, compared to one Western way of dating where the topic of marriage is skirted or not dwelt upon for very long, omiai is businesslike and brutally frank. Keiko (32) met her husband three years ago through a coworker. On the very first date, they discussed the most important things about wedlock and the position she would hold within a marriage. Worried that she would never meet Mr. Right, Keiko had asked her coworker to act as nakodo. After a few months she had been introduced to Kenji, an acquaintance of the nakodo, and they immediately hit it off. The nakodo "spent a lot of time learning about Kenji, and thinking we would be a good couple," says Keiko. As a result, she feels eternally indebted to her coworker, which to some extent she is, since she is still giving the nakodo an annual gift.
Sayako (40), speaks of her marriage in more subdued terms. It is of slight concern that she is much more animated about her hobbies than she is about her spouse. She has been a wife for fourteen years and advocates omiai because it is arranged through contacts who know both the man and
the woman or their families. She believes this makes the situation far more comfortable and safer than meeting a stranger. How about passion, sparks, spontaneity and chemistry? Sayako laughs.
"Those don't last anyway, and afterwards you have the business of marriage and family. It's better to know that you have a good business partner from the start." She stresses that her hubby is a good man and that she and her two sons are very comfortable.

The express purpose of omiai is, of course, marriage, and once an introduction has been made, the couple is expected not to waste time deciding whether to head for the altar. Marriage was the main topic of discussion on Miki's first date. She was introduced to a neighbor's son by their respective parents. While Keiko felt an immediate attraction to Kenji, Miki felt indecisive about the man she had been partnered with. She also felt a lot of pressure to please all the parties involved, so although she wasn't really attracted to the man, she was reluctant to say so.
"After every time I saw him, my parents asked me many questions, and asked me if I felt like marrying him," she said. "After five dates I still couldn't decide because I wanted to feel real love, even through omiai, but I didn't want to hurt my family."
There was another reason for her indecision.
"Many people told me that marriage is different from passion, and even though I didn't feel in love with him, people said the comfortable life we would have would make me happy. If the man gives the woman a comfortable life, the woman will be satisfied, and that is real happiness."
Something else needed to be sussed out before a decision could be reached. If you enter into a contract, you need to make sure that you know what you're getting. Since intimacy is a natural part of every marriage, Miki and her man checked into a hotel together to make sure that all the parts fit. The bizarre thing was that Miki's folks drove her to and from the rendezvous.
Even after this romantic interlude Miki couldn't make up her mind. Such time-consuming introspection and contemplation were too much for Miki's beau, who thought she was taking too long to commit.
"We were dating in April and he wanted to be married by November," she says. So what happened? He sent his mom over to Miki's parents' house to get Miki's mom to tell her daughter that she was dropped. Now there's a man of courage! How did that go down with her folks?
"My parents were disappointed, but in the end they understood the reasons why I wasn't interested."

Takayuki is a young, single advertising executive. He has never been involved in omiai himself, but he thinks it's a good opportunity to find someone who thinks in the same way about marriage and the future. If he ever were to resort to omiai - and he's not averse to the idea - he would ask his friends or coworkers for help. The pressures felt by Miki would be the reasons dissuading him from asking his family. He would hate to feel that he was compromising his immediate family or relatives by refusing a prospective but unsuitable partner. Takayuki thinks that omiai will increase in the future.
"Nowadays we have many opportunities to contact and meet people through phones and the Internet, but we can't really know about these people through these media. It's better and safer to find people through people rather than through computers."
Like anything that involves relationships, omiai has its successes, its failures, and its in-betweens. It has little to do with the forced unions of bygone times, although family pressures sometimes can be overwhelming. As for Western equivalents, private companies and agencies act as marriage matchmakers for people, but there is a degree of anonymity, and an up-front fee involved.
So the final verdict on omiai: It seems to be a far more organized, stylized, and formalized version of your mate trying to set you up with someone from the pub.

Note: Some of the names in this story have been changed in accordance with the interviewee's wishes.

It was December 1915, and Hokkaido was bracing for another brutal winter. Chipmunk and deer were busy preparing for the coming freeze, and so were the people of Sankebetsu, a settlement of 15 households nestled in the wilderness between Asahikawa and the Sea of Japan.
Bears were particularly busy, foraging with the special hunger of an animal anticipating months in bed. On December 19, just such a bear appeared in Sankebetsu. It approached a dwelling, burst in on a woman and child, and killed them both.

The grieving villagers arranged a funeral for the next day. At the service, they trembled with more than grief. They knew a man-eater lurked near their tiny outpost. Their fears were realized when the bear reappeared mid-ceremony. Although the attendees escaped, other villagers did not. By the time the beast had returned to the forest, five more funerals were needed.
It was clear that this was no ordinary bear. It had lost all fear of humans and, more important, it had gained a taste for them. The settlers formed a hunting party. Recruiting a leathery mountain man from another village, the group set out on a fine day, armed for bear, as the expression goes.
They tracked the animal through the wilds and finally closed with it. The mountain man took aim, fired, and hit his mark. The bear fell dead from the rifle shot.
As they went to drag the carcass back to the village, a storm blew up and continued to rage for seven hours. Believing the storm to be a result of the bear's death, the villagers dubbed it kuma arashi (bear storm).

With its generous helpings of gore and drama, seasoned with a dash of folklore, it is not surprising that the Sankebetsu Bear Attack, as it came to be known, captured the imagination of Japan. Go to the library and you can read a book about it, or see the movie if you prefer. Better yet, visit the Tomamae Town Museum, which commemorates the incident in reconstructions of the village, complete with life-size figures of rampaging beast and startled settler.
A visitor to the museum can only wonder: If bears scared the mochi out of Hokkaido's hardy pioneers, what hope is there for the Nintendo-softened, McDonalds-fattened hiker of today?
A good hope, says Kuniko Yokosuka of Earth Wind, an environmental NPO based in Sapporo. Ms. Yokosuka, a mountain guide, came to Hokkaido after trading her stifling job at a publishing company in Tokyo for the breathing room of this prefecture's wilderness. She now treks 180 days a year and lectures on hiking and bear safety.
"It is right to fear bears," she says, "but it is more important that you respect them and understand them." Although fearsome, they generally avoid close contact with people, she notes, adding that Hokkaido sees fewer than one fatal bear attack a year, versus eight wasp sting deaths.
This statistic is somewhat misleading, however. The wasp figure covers all areas, from mid-forest to mid-city. Bears, unlike wasps, will not come into town and kill you. (Unless you happened to live in 1915 Sankebetsu.) This means that if you go hiking, your odds of a bear attack increase much more than your odds of a wasp attack.
The Hokkaido Government has firmer numbers, and these are more reassuring. They show 86 bear attacks since scorekeeping started in 1962, with 33 resulting in death. There have been fewer attacks in the past twenty years, although the years since 1998 have been unusually bloody, with seven fatalities. This still works out to fewer than one death per year, and considering the number of hikers tempted by Hokkaido's sublime trails, the odds look good.
Good, that is, unless you become the unlucky statistic, and Ms. Yokosuka has some advice to keep that from happening.

BEAR SAFETY

If there is anything the experts agree on, she says, it is the importance of avoiding bears in the first place, hence the bells many hikers attach to their gear. Shouting or clapping also can alert a bear to your presence and give it time to retreat. Brown bears are rarely looking for trouble, but with eight-centimeter-long claws and running speeds much faster than any human, they are more than able to dish it out.
Campers should stow food in trees and leave waste well away from where they will be sleeping. A bear safety video from the Forest Service of British Columbia, Canada, also recommends that campers orient tents to provide a line of sight to the trash and cooking areas and arrange the tents in a line, to allow the animal an easy retreat. Leave your pets at home.
If you do encounter a bear, remember these "don'ts."
Don't run. Bears have a chase response and they clock in at 50 kph. This is much faster than you. And contrary to popular belief, bears run downhill very well.
Don't stare down a bear. This could be interpreted as a challenge, and the bear just might take you up on it. At the same time, don't give the bear the impression that you are unaware of it.
Don't play dead. (More about that later.)
Now for the "do's." The British Columbia video describes the proper behavior for each of three situations: pre-encounter, encounter, and attack.
It recommends avoiding an encounter by making noise, being aware of your surroundings and being on the lookout for signs of bear foraging, such as dug up earth or ripped up logs.
If you do encounter a bear, you should stay calm and not run. If you think you can leave without being noticed, you should do so. Otherwise, alert the bear to your presence by talking and waving your arms as you retreat -- preferably upwind, to give the bear your scent. If the animal follows, leave gear behind to distract it, but leave food only as a last resort. A bear that has learned to scare the living Pocky out of people is a short step away from learning that people taste even better than Pocky.
If an attack is imminent, you should try to determine the bear's intent: predatory or defensive. Does the bear see you as a threat to be chased away, or as a meal to be chased down? The correct answer to this question can mean the difference between a great campfire yarn and an obit in the Hokkaido Shimbun.
Here's the rule of thumb: If the bear has been stalking you, it's a fair bet that the animal sees you as an easy meal. You must disabuse it of this notion immediately. Act aggressively. Shout. Wave your arms to make yourself look bigger. Jump up and down.
In contrast, a bear that has been startled into attacking is likely to be acting defensively. Even if it is charging, it may be bluffing. Back away slowly, waving your arms. If it reaches you, roll into a ball with your hands clasped behind your neck. Shy as bears normally are, they do know your vital points: neck and belly. If the bear tries to flip you over, flip back onto your side. Some people consider this "playing dead." Ms. Yokosuka says it is more like playing hard to get. Remember that when a bear rears up on its hind legs, it is not attacking. It is trying to get your scent.
It may sound impossible not to turn tail when 300 kilograms of death is closing at 50 kph. Ms. Yokosuka says it is easier than you might expect.
"I was at Mashike, Hokkaido, when a brown bear charged me," she recalls. "I instinctively froze." Seeing her stand her ground and not act threateningly, the bear retreated. Ms. Yokosuka says she sights bears about four times a year.

GRIZZLIES IN HOKKAIDO?

Hokkaido's higuma, or brown bear, belongs to the world's most widely distributed bear species: Ursus arctos, known in North America as the grizzly. It is found from the arctic seas of North America, Europe, and Asia, to the forests of Canada and Russia, even as far south as Mexico, Spain and Iran.
In North America, bears are mainly of two species: brown, and black (Ursus americanus). In Japan, only brown bears live in Hokkaido, and only black bears live on Honshu and Kyushu. The two species arrived from the Asian continent via different land bridges but were kept apart by the Tsugaru Straits.
It is difficult to know how many higuma remain in Hokkaido. Estimates have them holding steady between two- and three-thousand animals, mostly on the Shiretoko Peninsula of Eastern Hokkaido, at the mountains in the center of the prefecture and in many areas of southern Hokkaido, including the wilderness south and west of Sapporo. This is four times as many brown bears as in continental U.S.
If these numbers alarm you, it might help to remember that higuma are omnivores. Some three-fourths of their diet is plants, with most of the rest being fish, carrion and insects.
"They love ants," Ms. Yokosuka says. "They can eat five kilograms of them a day."
As you read this, higuma are slumbering away in caves or hollows dug under large trees or into hillsides. But they do not hibernate in the true sense. Their body temperature drops only about six degrees Celsius and they are easily awakened. If left to their dreams, however, they can sleep for several months without eating, drinking, urinating or defecating. Their unique metabolism allows their to rehydrate by converting fat into water, and their amazing kidneys break down waste products to prevent a buildup of toxic urea. The winter slumber is also when females bear their young, usually in a litter of two or three cubs.

THE MAGICAL BEAR

The higuma owes much of its renown to the Ainu, whose most important religious ceremony recalls Paleolithic bear cults, according to the anthropologist K. Kindaichi, who described it in a 1949 paper.

The Ainu would capture a bear cub, nurture it for months and then sacrifice it during an elaborate ritual…This Ainu bear is the earthly manifestation of the head of the mountain gods, Chira-Mante-Kamui; his bear form is his disguise when visiting the earth. The Ainu gods view humankind as equal to them. They wish to be on the best of terms with human beings because the offerings made during rituals reach the kingdom of the gods where they become the banquet items when the gods themselves hold festivals…The ritual surrounding the bear frees the god to return to his kingdom where the deities can enjoy the fruits of the ritual.