Japan--by foot, train, bus, and cable car.

October 2009

This trip was arranged with the excellent help of Inside Japan, an England-based company that deals with only Japan. Together we came up with an itinerary; then they made all the reservations for accommodations and transportation.

It was strange leaving on a trip so late in the day. We stopped on the way to eat dinner at Sweet Tomatoes, then dropped off our car. The shuttle driver told us something we hadn’t known; the parking lot we used was now all covered, and they had raised the rates. The only way to get a lower rate was to show our AAA card when we checked out.
After dropping off our bags we went through security. Six o’clock at night is the best time to travel. The lines were very short, and the security people were in a good mood--even after I forgot to take my computer out of my back pack. The guy standing at the metal detector did pat me down, but I think he was just being friendly.
The plane took off in the dark, passing over the lights of the city. It was an economy trip, but it wasn’t bad since it was just a two-hour flight. United served us soft drinks but no peanuts.
Our bags arrived with us in San Francisco and Sue got us to the right bus stop and on the right shuttle. At the hotel we read briefly and hit the sack.
After breakfast, we took the shuttle back to the airport where we learned the flight had been delayed two hours because of a typhoon in Japan. Fortunately we were in the business-class lounge. Those lounges in the US are no match for the business lounges overseas. Alcohol costs money, and the food is very sparse. I had a yogurt.
I bought a new paperback. The publishers had lengthened the height of the book and increased the space between the lines and, of course, had increased the cost to $10. I remember when paperbacks were 25¢!
Our plane was a 747-400, which was quite nice. The seats extended to be completely flat. After we were airborne, we got the traditional hot mixed nuts and wine. Both wines were a tad sharp, which I figured meant they were still young. I ordered the Japanese dinner and enjoyed it well enough. The Kikkoman sauce came in a very small plastic bottle with a screw top. The noodles came with a warm sauce, and I slurped them appreciatively. Several of the pieces were complete mysteries to me, but I ate them anyway. A warm dish followed with extremely soft salmon and a couple of other items. When the dessert tray came around we asked for the cheese with extra crackers, since they usually just give two. They were short on crackers! So Sue and I had to share the one extra packet we got. I tried to watch a movie, but it was grainy and the sound was very bad, so I gave it up.
An hour before touching down in Narita, we were served a “hot” pastrami sandwich. Parts of the sandwich were warm, but half of the bottom was soggy. What we have to put up with in business class. The flight took ten hours, and we had to circle once before landing at 4 PM.
Getting through passport control was easy, and our bags were ready when we got to the baggage carousel. Outside, our greeter from Inside Japan, the company that helped us plan the trip, had our name on a piece of cardboard. He shook hands with us and we chatted briefly. I bought some yen, and he explained there was some problem with the train to Tokyo, 60 miles away. He took us to the train station; the board said there was only one train to our stop, and it would not leave for another hour and a half. The clerk told our guide that the train might not leave at all since the typhoon had disrupted travel in the area.
He got on his cell phone. While I was filling out the forms to activate our rail passes, he disappeared. When I was finished, he came back and said we would have to take the limousine bus, which turned out to be just a bus. He bought our tickets and took us to the bus stop. He was extremely helpful. If he hadn’t been there, we would probably still be wandering around the airport wondering what to do. The bus came in five minutes, a little after 5 PM, and the drive into Tokyo took a little over an hour. I could see Fujisan silhouetted against the almost dark sky. The drive was on an expressway all the way to our stop. After we got our bags, we pondered over where we were exactly and where we wanted to go. Sue showed our map to one of the baggage handlers, and he was able to point us in the right direction. It was a three-block walk down a heavily neoned street, and then across another street.
The two men at the counter took our voucher and gave us our key, metal with a metal tag. In room 505 we got ready for bed and the phone rang. The man at the desk said we had a phone call, and it was Rumi Kaneko, our guide for the next day. She wanted some idea of what we wanted to do. I said we liked nature and art but no museums. She then named a couple of museums, and I said we wanted to see no museums. She then named another museum we might like. I said again that we did not want to see museums. She said, “Do you spell noh N O H?” I said we spelled it N O. Noh, of course, is a form of Japanese theater! We finally got things straightened out.
We read for a few minutes and then took a sleeping pill and went to sleep at 8 PM. I woke up at 5 and got up at 6 and showered. Breakfast was at 7, and we had four choices. Sue had French toast and cafe au lait; I had a small salmon piece and rice soup with a cup of coffee. The coffee and salmon were good and the rice soup was hot. The breakfasts were small even for us.
When we came down to the lobby (four chairs around a small table), Rumi was already there. She was almost as tall as Sue, in her early 30s, well rounded but not fat. Her English, which was quite good, was learned in Japanese schools, although she had been to Seattle twice. Rumi, pleasant looking, with a roundish face, wore snug pants and a striped shirt. We talked over what we wanted to do. Sue asked about visiting an Asahi brewery that she had seen on a map. Rumi didn’t know what we were talking about, and had never heard of an Asahi beer. That was surprising to us, since I had drunk that beer 55 years ago, and it was exported to the US. I spelled it for her, incorrectly, and we talked another minute or so when she finally realized that we were talking about A-sigh-he beer, when I was saying A-sigh. (There were several other times during the day when she did not understand my question. She didn’t seem to have much latitude in listening to English.) With the brewery question understood, we found that they did not give tours without some advance notification.
We eventually picked several places to visit, and started out. First I needed to change more money, which we did at the post office just across the street. As we went in, there was a vending machine that dispensed cold drinks. Vending machines are very popular in Japan. Upstairs, I filled out a form and gave it to a clerk along with my dollars. She took the money and asked us to sit down. The exchange rate was the same as at the airport, so waiting to get to the city did not help us at all. A few minutes later I was called back and handed my yen.
Rumi took us down into the subway system. After the second turn I was completely lost and just followed her. That was a large station. Down stairs around corners, all past shops and with lots of people coming and going. Harajuku was our first stop, and we walked along the very wide gravel path past and under many tall trees. The trees had been replanted after the war over 50 years ago.
One spot on the path had a set of paper lanterns on one side in three rows; the names of sake-maker donors were printed on them, in Japanese, of course. On the other side of the path was another set of wooden casks in three rows with the names of the donors written on them. These were wine merchants.
We passed under a second huge torii and approached the temple with its adjacent buildings. Japanese religious sites are normally just unpainted wood. A fair number of people were around, including several school groups; some were in groups having their pictures taken. They were anything but solemn; they were smiling, laughing, twisting their bodies, and most were holding one or both arms out with the fingers in a V. We saw several groups having their pictures taken during the day, and those being photographed all acted the same. The V with the fingers must mean something in Japan. During WWII Winston Churchill used the symbol with the fingers, which I understand to mean a gesture English archers used in the days of the long-bowmen: We won; we still have our fingers. The French on capturing English archers would cut off those fingers so they could never shoot an arrow again. The French really hated English archers.
There wasn’t much to see in the temple. A huge drum on wheels was at one side. A wooden picket fence divided the visitor from the interior. There were no sides to the large building. Outside was a covered area where the visitor could buy a pentangular piece of wood, write on it, and hang it on the wall; they were about five deep on each peg.
On the way out, our stop at the souvenir shop got us a deck of cards with 54 different Japanese pictures and some badly needed drink coasters. It was incredibly humid in the shop, and Sue and I came out bathed in sweat. Rumi thought it was rather pleasant. These people who live in humid places!
Back on the subway line we got to the Imperial Palace grounds. We got nowhere near the Palace itself, but we took photos over the water of a white building we were told was the part of the Palace. Other people were taking the same photo and taking some with their group smiling in front of the Palace.
Next the subway took us to the Tsukiji fish market, which was a bunch of stores, most of them selling fish. Flies were a rarity. We broke up our walk through the market to have lunch. After waiting in the street for 15 minutes or so, we were allowed in. The restaurant was minute; there were four small two-people tables and a bar with four or five stools. The staff consisted of one waitress and three or four cooks. The waitress had taken our order before we got into the restaurant, so we did not wait long for our food. I had ordered chicken (the house specialty) with noodles and a curry. The curry was good, but the chicken wasn’t cooked enough for my taste; it wasn’t undercooked, but it could have been cooked longer. The chicken had been chopped up with all the little bits still lying between the pieces of meat. Because of the curry, I was given a spoon. My dining companions ate with chop sticks. The beverage was water. I paid for the three of us, and when we left there was still a small line outside the wee restaurant.
Some of the shops had people outside extolling the virtues of their wares. The women used extra high-pitched voices, which bordered on the annoying. The shops were small, most were about ten feet wide, and they had most of their things for sale outside. On one street I stopped to take a picture and someone knocked into me. I stepped to what I thought was an out-of-the-way spot, and he hit me again rather hard, too hard to be accidental. It irritated me; some local had it in for 70 year old Americans.
Leaving the fish market area, we walked up to the Ginza, passing the Kabuki-za Theatre, which will be torn down next summer. The subway took us this time to Asakusa to visit the Asakusa Kannen Temple. We paid for our trips with our Pasmo cards. When we went into the station, we passed our cards over the sensor. When we left at our destination, we passed the card again over the sensor, and the machine subtracted the fee from the card. Much easier than using tokens. Our cards were worth ¥3,000 when we got them, about $32, and were worth about ¥1,800 at the end of day.
From the main street the approach to the temple was about three blocks long. Three blocks with shops side by side on both sides of the street. They were selling everything from wood-block prints to ice cream. LOTS of people. The temple was being refurbished and there was a huge canvas cover over the roof. A five-storied pagoda was nearby. Inside, a few people were doing religious doings, but most of them were at the shops on the way up.
Sue and I were getting rather tired, being still in jet lag. It was 3 o’clock, so we told Rumi to take us back to the hotel, which she did. After she left us, we went into the restaurant and had a very pleasant beer.
Around six o’clock we went out for dinner. A restaurant on the corner across from the hotel looked good, but we decided to look around the neighborhood. We had our cameras and took several photos of the ubiquitous neon signs. There were quite a few restaurants in the area and many other stores selling all sorts of things. We passed one store where a young woman with a very high voice was talking on an amplifier while wearing a uniform of the store. MANY people were out buying and walking to the train station. Business men all wear dark suits with dark ties. They all carry attaché cases. They all walk very fast. After circling the area and checking out the restaurants, we decided to eat at the first.
There was nothing in English on the outside, except for a sign reading that they had English menus. The restaurant had more than four tables, but it was still small. There was an upstairs portion which we did not see. The waitress gave us a table next to three locals, who were eating, drinking, and laughing quite loudly. They were still there when we left. After giving the menus a good looking over, we had to wait a fair amount of time before the waitress came over to take our order. The happy three helped out, calling her over. Both of us ordered beer, and I ordered a chicken/prawn noodle dish. Sue also ordered a noodle dish. The noodles, udon, were quite thick and in a very hot (temperature) sauce. I had a lot of difficulty trying to transfer these long, thick noodles to a smaller bowl for eating, using chop sticks. I’d get part of the noodle into the dish, let go, and watch it disappear into the main dish. After a while the waitress came by and asked if I wanted a fork. How embarrassing. I said no. Eventually I got a few noodles in the smaller dish, but I ate most of them from the main pot. I could get part of the noodle into my mouth and slurp in the rest, with the final end of the noodle whipping around spraying sauce. The thick noodles were chewy and good. The prawn, covered in a golden crust, was large and good. The chicken was pretty much the same as the lunch chicken, and I decided not to order chicken any more. The Japanese couple that had been at the table to my right had finished and left, to be replaced by two Americans. The woman was much overweight, and the man was fairly large, too. A few Japanese are overweight, but no where as many or as much as Americans. The restaurant accepted credit cards, so I charged the meal.
After we left the restaurant, we walked around the neighborhood. We were passing a pachinko parlor when we decided to go in. The noise really hit us, a low rolling noise from the hundreds of machines, most of which were busy. The staff was running around with baskets of balls. One of the staff pointed at the camera I was carrying and indicated, with fingers in an “X”, No Pictures. Cigarette smoke was in the air, along with some music, which could be heard in the distance. We walked through the main room, and along the short hall to another room and then retraced our footsteps. Outside, we said “Wow, what a noisy place.” Pachinko had changed from the last time I had observed it. Before, one just put his metal balls into the machine and watched to see if they would go in the right holes. The current games had digital animation in the background, and the machines looked quite different. I did not really check them out. Too noisy. The next day we passed another parlor when the front door opened. NOISE came out.
For breakfast on the next day, I chose Set D, which was French toast, a large bowl of coffee and milk, yogurt, and a raisin roll. It was quite good. The day looked promising, and we decided to visit the nearby Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. Following the map, we crossed the rail lines and went down the road until we came to the Garden. It cost 200 yen each to buy a ticket from the machine and get in. This was not what I thought of as a Japanese garden, although part of it was in a Japanese flavor. The path to the right was street wide with a gravel surface; tall bald cypress trees bordered and grew over the path. Birds were plentiful, and a Japanese man with a telephoto lens was shooting them. He showed us one picture, a very nice close up. Orb-weaving spiders were all over the trees and the gaps between the trees. They had striped legs and a greenish body with a large red spot on the belly. We tried to photograph them, but our cameras would not focus on them. Spider power?
A small lake had a path around it with Japanese bridges and lanterns. The lake was full of large carp that, if one stopped for a while, would appear with their mouths out of the water and open. They looked a bit gross to me. The landscaping around the lake was quite attractive.
There were three Japanese tea houses shown on the map, and when we got to one, I wanted to go in for tea. Rakuu-Tei looked deserted; the door was closed and no people were visible. The sign said they should be open. Sue slid the door open a bit, looked in, and saw there was someone inside. According to the directions, one had to buy a ticket from the machine before entering, so I used up my coin collection to pay 1,400 yen for two tickets; that was about $17. The tea room was traditional Japanese, with padded benches along two walls with tables in front of them. Sue and I were the only customers. The “waitress” came out to get our ticket for tea and a sweet. She wore a kimono and was a bit chubby. She went back into the other, small room. The tea room was plain, except at one end there was a flower and a screen with Japanese writing on it. Everything except the padding on the seats was wood. After a bit she came back with our tea in a bowl and an green round sweet on a small tray. Although the tea tasted good, it amounted to only a quarter of a cup. The sweet seemed to be a marshmallow surrounded by a thin covering of something sweet. All this for only $17!
As we continued through the garden, it started to mist, mist heavily, and then rain. Sue got her umbrella out, and we put on our non-waterproof windbreakers. We passed the French garden and the English garden. The latter was just a big, empty field. Workmen were setting up hundreds of folding chairs and a stage. It looked as if there would be a rock concert the next day.
Leaving the garden, we decided to lunch at Takashimaya, a large local department store. Inside the door was a panel of photographs of food dishes. There were restaurants on three floors, and we went to the 13th floor. To our surprise, there wasn’t one but a dozen restaurants on the floor. After checking them all out, we picked one—probably Indian. The food was good but too much. They also took credit cards.
Back at the hotel, Sue took our dirty laundry to the third floor and washed it. Both of us were feeling full, so for dinner I went across the street to a Lawson convenience store and bought two half bottles of wine, a sandwich, some potato chips, a container of vegetables (which were not showing up in the restaurants), and a bag of “mix nuts.” For dessert we had some candy I had brought along.
For breakfast the last morning in Tokyo, we both had Set B: eggs, toast, bacon, salad, butter, jam, and coffee. I asked the waitress to have my eggs cooked "over easy;" I used hand motions. When they arrived, the eggs had been turned over, but not easy; the yokes were solid. The bacon looked as if it had been steamed, not fried. It was pale and flat. Sue and I both cut off the fat; it tasted pretty good.
After turning in our key, we trundled our bags the three blocks back to the bus station to get our bus at 9:40. I went off and bought two candy bars for lunch. The shops were just opening up. Merchandise was being brought onto the sidewalks, clerks were extolling the virtues of shopping in their store. Sunday seemed like any other day except that there were fewer people around.
The bus driver spoke no English, but we communicated well enough by pointing. We had to put our bags under the bus ourselves. Our reserved seats were just behind the driver, which gave us an excellent view. The ride was scheduled for an hour and 45 minutes. As we were driving through Tokyo we noticed a pizzeria; I had thought we should try a Japanese pizza to see what they did to it. Pepperoni? Squid? Noodles? Not long after we got on the expressway, the traffic started slowing down. It slowed down some more, and some more. It stopped. It started up again. It was terrible. A lot of motorcycles passed us, zipping up the road on the motorcycle lane, which is the dashed line between automobile lanes. It took us over three hours to get to Kamaguchiko! Our flight from Albuquerque to San Francisco took less time. The best that Sue and I could come up with was that these people were taking the fine Sunday day to go “to the shore” as we used to say in New Jersey. At the rate we were going, by the time they got to their destination, they’d have to start back. The next day we found out that Monday was a holiday. Ah, the Japanese long weekend!
At the station a taxi took us to the hotel. The driver had to look at the fine work Inside Japan did on the address. It cost about $20: 1,540 yen. We arrived about 1:30 at the Hotel Yesterday on the shore of lake Kawaguchiko, and of course check in wasn’t until three. The clerk told us to take our shoes off and use the slippers at the door. The slippers were too small, although some had been enlarged when a previous user had torn part of the side. The woman spoke very good English. Our bags went into a side room.
We took our hats, jackets, and shoes and decided to go for a walk. It was cool, and I was not wearing a T-shirt, but the exercise and the sun warmed me up. Our walk went clockwise around the lake. There was a nice stone path for the first couple of hundred yards, then we were walking on the side of the narrow road. About six people passed us, walking on the wrong side of the road. On the lake were several males on jet skis making lots of noise and waves. A speed boat towed a water skier. Several boats contained fishermen, but how they could catch anything with all the activity, I don’t know. It could have been any lake in the US.
After some 45 minutes, we stopped at a lake-side garden named Green Green across from a large hotel. There were trees, plants, seats, and a gardener. We walked to the shore; a couple of fishermen were on the water, and the water skier came by twice. It is probably my age, but being towed around the lake while trying to keep upright on water skis strikes me as rather boring.
When we were walking back, I noticed several people working on drying some grass a bit back from the road. A short walk up a dirt side road brought us to the site where three people were working. The drying rack was just being built; a horizontal piece of wood about two inches in diameter was supported by Vs of other pieces of wood. Sheaves of what they were drying were tied at the bottom, divided in half, and placed over the horizontal piece of wood. I nodded to the younger chap and said “Konnichiwa.” Also with him were an older man and woman. They were very pleasant. The young man spoke a little English, and we gathered that he had visited Albuquerque in New Mexico on an excursion. What they were drying was rice. Another, jovial, man came up, but he did not speak much English. It was nice to see and “talk” to some locals. The jovial man went back toward the road with us, showing us an ear of corn. At first we thought it was popping corn, since he was saying “Pop, pop.” He took it out of the plastic wrap and snapped the ear in half. He ate a few kernels and offered some to us, which we declined. Saying “Arigato goziamasu” we left and went back to the hotel.
The shoes came off. If we had forgotten, the line of slippers at the door would have reminded us. This time the clerk was the chef, who spoke English, but not as well as the woman had earlier. He told us breakfast was at eight and dinner was at six, for hotel residents only. He gave us our key to 205 on the second floor--and no elevator. The room was smaller than the one in Tokyo, and the bathroom was minute. In both Japanese hotels, the bathroom was a Toto; a Toto seal and serial number was on both door jams. The bathrooms were too large to come through the door, so I assume they came in pieces and were reassembled in the hotel rooms. We have Toto toilets at home, and most of the toilets we saw in Japan were Toto. Most toilet rooms were about 10 inches over the floor, which meant stepping up and stepping down. The tub here was about a meter long. The shower, as in Tokyo, was on a metal hose and worked well. The metal hose was connected to the faucet on the sink. Two people could be in the bathroom at the same time, but they would have to be standing. The whole room was a little larger than our shower at home. The toilet in Tokyo was larger, so the Totos must come in various sizes. We’ll see what the future brings.
Sue read in the room while I went out to read somewhere; I never did find a place to read, but I looked around the area. There was a souvenir store next door and a travel site with nothing in English; it did have a vending machine that produced various coffees. Down the road a piece was a cemetery with attractive looking stones, which were quite large, say 4 feet square and just as high. Walking on the path beside the lake brought me to some kind of monument. It was an arch like half of a McDonalds’ sign with a bell. As I turned around, there was Fujisan. It was covered in mist behind the hills, but I took a few photos of it.
At dinner there were a half dozen tables, all the other tables spoke Japanese. The woman who spoke good English was our waitress. The half bottle of wine was just OK; the menu said “wine,” so I assume they had just the one brand. The meal was a typical Western one. A salad was followed by fried trout containing a strip of bacon, and that was followed by chicken. We were given a choice of bread or rice, and we chose bread, which was good.
A family with three young children was in a room on one side of us; on the other side was a young couple. We could hear them through the walls, but the walls did not translate. They were all quiet early. The night was cool, so we were happy to have the quilt-covered-in-a-sheet that is used in Japan.
When I looked out the window in the morning, there was nothing but clouds. It looked like a poor day. Breakfast at 8 was scrambled eggs, bread, beverages, and salad; just like home, except for the salad and the eggs.
The day was improving; the sun was out in places. As the day went on it got much better, and at one spot we were sweating. The day’s walk went along the lake in the opposite direction from the way we had walked the day before. There was path all the way, so we didn’t have to walk in the road. It was a pleasant outing; Fujisan would appear from time to time in a very pale, hazy state. A few people were fishing; some were working; a few motor boats were zipping around. Around lunch time we came upon the bridge that crossed the lake, climbed up to street level, and walked up the street into town, sweating in the sun. For lunch we chose a Japanese restaurant that looked like a Denny’s. There were three menus on the table encased in plastic, with photographs of each meal, which we used to pick out a salad. There was no air conditioning in the restaurant, and we sat there damp with sweat until we were almost finished eating.
After we left we visited the 7-11 next door, although the sign said it was just a 7. It was just like convenience stores in the US except for some of the merchandise. In the next couple of days we went into several convenience stores in search of a pen-sized flashlight. Couldn’t find any.
On the way back we were passing a museum that didn’t interest us when we were stopped by a non-Japanese man. He and his wife were from Ukraine, and he was working in Tokyo. They were driving around on an excursion, but neither of them spoke any Japanese. They did speak excellent English and were happy to speak with people with “European faces.”
Down the road we came upon Omurosengen, a shrine that we had missed on the walk to town. It was quite large, over several acres, and consisted of several buildings. What was amazing to us was that there was no one there. After visiting two shrines, I was coming out of the rest room and saw a single visitor off in the distance. He was the only person we saw there. We walked around some more. My camera started complaining of low battery. It was a very attractive place, and we enjoyed the visit.
There was one more stop on the way back--for ice cream. The lady running the shop had two flavors depicted on posters. We both chose the chocolate-almond cone. She went to the freezer and took out two plastic containers of ice cream, which surprised me since she advertised cones. She took the cover off one and put it upside down in a machine. When she pulled the handle, soft ice cream came out into the cone. Amazing what these Japanese can come up with.
That night we were the only customers at the hotel and the only diners. Corn soup, fried perch, stewed beef, and various vegetables. We arranged with the chef/owner to have our big bags sent to our hotel in Matsumoto, using the very efficient country-wide luggage forwarding system.
After a traditional breakfast of salad, scrambled eggs, small frankfurters, bread, and coffee, we were off for the train station by taxi. The trip back cost us 30% more. Hmmm. Looking at the departure sign, we saw that there was an earlier train to Otsuki. Since we had only four minutes to change trains on our original schedule, I asked the desk person and found we could take the earlier train, which we did. It was full of high school kids. As we traveled along, some kids would get off and others got on; eventually they all got off. Most school kids in Japan wear uniforms. Some of the boys reminded us of kids we had taught: disheveled clothing, unapproved jewelry, which started back to normal as they got off the train. A lot of them were listening to their iPod-type machines or pushing keys on phones.
The train changing went fine, but we were glad we had taken the earlier train because the second train was stationary only 45 seconds. As we traveled along, we could see all of the small gardens among the houses. Vegetables were still in the ground and still green. There were innumerable small rice fields varying from the cut to the not-yet-cut; these were in front yards, side yards, “spare” yards. That was about it for the ride.
Sometime during the journey, Sue reached over to the arm rest on the seat in front of her, pressed the release button and pushed the seat forward. This must have astounded the little, old woman sitting in the seat. I said to Sue, “There’s a woman sitting in that seat.” Sue said she had looked and didn’t see anyone. I suggested that she apologize, and Sue said “Sumimasen.” I don’t think that did any good for the relations between East and West. The woman did not put the chair back, and, when she got off the train, she gave Sue a very hard look. Sue missed that because she had her eyes closed at the time.
At Matsumoto we walked the short way to the Richmond Hotel, the best hotel, so far, that we had visited in Japan. While most hotels don’t let you check in until 3 PM, this one would let us in at 2. Since it was only noon, we left our back packs there and walked to the Matsumoto castle, the only reason for being in the town. It is an imposing structure, inside several moats, and has been reconstructed. To get in we had to take our shoes off and carry them throughout the castle, which was entirely of wood. The stairs were extremely steep with tall steps. A few exhibits were here and there, ancient rifles being the main one.
Walking back to the hotel we commented on two things that have caught our attention. One is walk signs. They are nothing new in themselves; we have them all over the US. These show a green man walking or a red man standing. The Japanese follow these signs exactly. There may be no traffic coming, but the Japanese stand there until the green man shows. Sue looked out the hotel window at 4 AM one morning and saw a woman standing at the street corner waiting for the walk light to change. There was absolutely no traffic or anyone else in sight.
The second thing is the strip down the middle of the sidewalks for blind people. It has a distinctive shape that can be easily ascertained with the foot or cane. These strips are uncomfortable to walk on, and we had never seen anyone using them.
For dinner we went out to a soba noodle restaurant. We had a map, but we walked by the restaurant the first time. It was labeled a good restaurant for foreigners, but it was not strongly advertised on site. And the restaurant staff spoke no English. Our waiter jabbered at us all the time, although he must have ascertained that we had no idea what he was saying. I had a small bottle of sake with my tempera, which came with rice, cold cooked spinach, a bowl of soup, a little dish of spicy hot vegetables. The tempura was two large shrimp, a couple pieces of fish, two large string beans, and some egg plant, all fried with a golden coat. The flavor was not strong, but it was good. The sake was quite good, smoother than the bottle we had tried at home. Sue’s soba noodles were served cold; the small portion I had was pleasant. A television set was playing while we were there. Although we were the only customers when we walked in, two other sets of people came in soon after.
Back in the hotel room a French woman phoned two times. Sue picked up and the woman apologized, saying she was given the wrong number; thinking she had mis-dialed, she called again. Those French!
The hotel breakfast was in a shop on the street very much like the one we had eaten at in Kawaguchiko. The French bus troop was there eating breakfast, and we were moved to a section with locals. The waitress told us to ring the bell on our table when we were ready to order. I ordered Set A and Sue ordered Set D. We got our own beverages at the beverage counter. Sue’s breakfast was pancakes and salad; mine was some salmon with various small dishes that were hard to identify but tasted fine.
Inside Japan had given us various options for getting from Matsumoto to Kamikochi. There were two through buses and several train-then-bus options. The through buses got in sooner, and we booked seats on the 8:50 even though it was suggested that we book the day before. The bus stopped running on November 3, presumably because of snow.
That bus ran on time. The road went up into the “alps” of Japan through many tunnels, short and long, and past at least three large dams. Kamikochi is a small town with a huge parking lot; actually it is a national park. The parking lot was half full of buses when we arrived at 10:30, and it was very cool. I asked at the information desk, got a map and some general directions to the hotel. At the town made up of almost a dozen shops and a suspension bridge were a LOT of people.
The hotel was across the bridge. I filled out the form, telling them I was 76, which for some reason they wanted to know. Our bags had not arrived yet, but the clerk said 2 o’clock was the usual time for such deliveries. At the downstairs rest room I had to remove my shoes and put on toilet slippers for the three-foot walk to the urinal. I put on a T-shirt, and we were ready to go. The back packs were left at the desk. As we emerged from the hotel a large group of red-faced macaques were crossing the bridge on the cables. They have a thick reddish brown fur and a very short tail. Some mothers had a small one clutching her back as they crossed on the two-inch cable. They did not go up to people, but they showed no particular fear of them. Over thirty of them passed by the interested crowd. They were quite cute, but we noticed a few of their leavings as we went on our walk.
At the busy convenience store I bought a bottle of water for 30% more than it cost in Tokyo, and we started up the left bank of the river. The beginning had a lot of small, black flies. It turned out that they bit, and I had a swelling on my forehead at the end of the day. A few of the trees had changed color, but most of them were still green. Several small creeks crossed the path. There were lots of people on the path, some of them in complex hiking gear with poles. Some were wearing bear bells, or, as we call them, dinner bells. They are supposed to alert the bears so they will move into the woods. The path was quite smooth, part of it being on wooden boards. When a tree trunk appeared in the appropriate condition, flat, we sat down and had our granola bars and some water. In the cities, Japanese women seldom wear hats, but when they are on vacation, they put on bucket hats.
Myojin pond was a popular stopping point. It contained a snack bar and a temple, and it cost 300 yen to visit the pond. The pond itself was interesting in a minor way, but not worth traveling very far to see. Part of the path was hard to negotiate because of the convoluted tree roots, although there were wooden paths here and there. The real mystery is why anyone would pay 300 yen to see it. We think it had religious significance.
There was another suspension bridge here; we crossed it and started back to town. This was less interesting than the trip up, but it was quicker.
The desk clerk took us up to our room, where our bags were waiting. The room was Japanese, the bathroom was Western (it had the Toto toilet that ran water when one sat down and a heated “Washlet” seat), and there was a small room with a great view of the mountain, two easy chairs, a table, and a refrigerator. Refrigerators are very popular in Japanese hotels, each one we had been in had had a refrigerator. All empty. The Japanese room was an eight tatami mat room, with a low table and two legless chairs. There was also a television and a hot water heater for coffee and tea that we couldn’t figure out how to use. I was afraid to experiment too much with it because I didn’t want anything on the tatami.
We had chosen the 6 o’clock dinner. There were two others, one at 7:15 and one later. At six we were at the door and were shown our table. Most of the food was already on the table, but some was delivered during the meal. It was typical Japanese, with chop sticks being the only utensils. There were a lot of small dishes containing little portions of various vegetables, seared tuna with wasabi, appetizers, a grill pot (with two small pieces of beef, zucchini, and egg plant), bowl of soup, grilled fish on a stick, bowl of cool udon, plate of tempura (one mild chilly pepper, mushroom), rice, tea, a slice of melon for dessert, and sake. Nothing was exceptionally tasty, but we enjoyed the meal, especially the newness of it all.
I talked with the desk clerk, who came up to our room to show us how to use the hot water heater. It was pretty easy since there was already water in it; press one of the half dozen buttons, put the cup under the nozzle, and press another button until the cup is full enough. The water was fairly hot but not boiling.
The maid had come in while we were at dinner and made our futons in the Japanese room, moving the table to the wall. There was not much extra space in the room with the bedding out.
The next day was a perfect day, very few clouds and cold/cool. Before the sun came up there was a gallery of photographers below us ready to shoot. I didn’t think the scenery that great, but I did like the photographers. Breakfast at seven was traditional Japanese: rice and tea, of course, soup, fish, pickles, two slices of egg something, and some vegetables in small cups. Chop sticks only, of course.

After buying some bars for lunch, we started up the river on the right side. There were some excellent views of the mountains in the sun as we went along under the trees. One could not walk far without running into other visitors. Some of them were very friendly, saying “konnichiwa” after ten AM and smiling. Some looked down. Some stared straight ahead. Some responded pleasantly to a “konnichiwa.” Just about the same as the US. One or two Japanese talked to us, and Sue chatted a bit with an Australian woman who was visiting Japan with 20 others.

When we arrived at the first toilet, we had to wait because the septic tank was being cleaned out by two blue trucks. When we arrived at the second toilet, we had to wait because the septic tank was being cleaned out by two blue trucks. Were they the same trucks? I don’t know. When hiking in the US, I can step behind a tree because no one will be along for thirty minutes. In Japan it is thirty seconds.

When we got back to the hotel, we had been walking about five hours.

For dinner they had moved our table, but the menu was pretty much the same, 9 or 10 small dishes with chop sticks.

In the morning I went outside before breakfast. A fair number of people were about, most of them taking photos. One chap was painting. When I was crossing back across the bridge a monkey was coming toward me, the only one I had seen since the first day. He posed for a couple of pictures. After the Japanese breakfast, we paid our bill for the wine, and walked to the bus station with our bags. We found the right “gate,” and rode the bus to an intermediate town, where we changed for a bus to Takayama. The road out of Kamikochi was narrow, and the bus had to wait several times for buses coming the other way.

Our Ryokan Tanabe was a ten minute walk from the station. I filled out the form, but we couldn’t check in until three. We left our bags and back packs at the ryokan and walked to the Hida Folk Village Area. On the way we lunched at a place that made beer, and we had beer and a small pizza. The pizza was pretty much the same as the US, although the crust was a tad underdone. The beer was good.

The Folk Village was further up the hill, and they let us in for only 700 yen each. The village consists of about 20 buildings from around Japan from different time periods. To go in most, one had to remove his shoes, so we went into only 2 or 3. The day was pleasant, with some clouds and a cool temperature. Although the outsides of the buildings were different, the insides were pretty much the same, large empty rooms; some had exhibits. The village had no gift shop, which we thought unusual. The shop across the street had a lot of food, but not much else.

After checking in and getting oriented, we evaluated our dirty clothes bags and found them full. I called the front desk and asked if there was a nearby coin laundry. After a short confusion, the owner said she would come to our room. The helpful, friendly Mrs. Tanabe, who spoke some English, found the laundry on our map and then drew several pictures to describe what was inside. Two of the machines were wash and dry, some of them were only dry, one in the corner was only wash. She drew other pictures to tell us where the laundry was, since there was no sign outside the laundry. After all of the drawing, she got up and gestured where these machines were. Pretty exhausting. After getting change and changing shoes, we went off. We found it, but the “parking lot” was only one car wide. The laundry room itself was very small, about half the size of our kitchen. All the directions on the machines was in Japanese, but there was a picture. We thought we had it figured out and put 800 yen in the machine, which furnished soap, pushed a couple of buttons, and walked back to the hotel. Sue went back in an hour and got the very hot clean clothes out of the machine.
At six, our “waitress” arrived at our room with dinner. Lots of small dishes and three heaters burning some combustible wax. We found from other meals that the wax soon burns out. There was the usual array of food, some of which we could identify. As usual, the only strong taste was wasabi, but the meal was pleasant if too large. I got a back ache from sitting at my legless chair at the low table even though the chair had a back. I got an Asahi beer out of the refrigerator.
After finishing I called the desk, our table was cleared, and soon our beds were taken out of the closet and placed on the floor. We both had a good sleep.
The morning shower was a sit-down affair. The whole room was the shower, although there was a tub. Japanese tubs are deeper than ours, for better soaking? The shower holder was waist level and there was a plastic stool to sit on.
Breakfast had been ordered for six, and at a quarter to six a woman came in to put our beds away. The meal was another gigantic affair of mysterious dishes, three or four of which were identified by us. Later I asked to have a different breakfast the next day, say, toast and jam. The owner said she knew just what we wanted. We’ll wait and see.
After changing footwear several times, we got out on the street and headed for the morning market, along the river. The “market” was under awnings and stores across from them were open. We actually bought a few things. Anything purchased has to be light and small to travel well. Halfway down the street it started to rain a bit. Several people bought umbrellas; by the time we reached the end of the street, it had stopped raining. It rained a bit here and there throughout the day.
Up a block and back brought us to the old part of the city. I had expected to see houses, but it was all shops. One store sold only rice “cookies” and a man was cooking some large ones near the street. Several people bought them and seemed to be enjoying them, so I bought one. It tasted OK; it was very crisp and the package contained a small packet of water absorber! We wandered through several other shops and stopped at a sake brewery for a box of sake. A small wooden box about an inch and a half square was put on a plate and filled to the brim with sake. We sat at a table with three young women and enjoyed the drink. At another brewery off the main path they gave smaller cups of sake, but they were free. There are about ten different types of sake, but reading about them doesn’t really say much. The rice that sake comes from is different from the type that is eaten. It is fermented with yeast and rice koji, a diastatic enzyme. We liked all the sake we had had in Japan, but I doubt I could find any particular type in the US.
Another chance to take off our shoes was at a Folk Museum, a very large old house advertised with a small sign. The house was made with some gigantic beams. I’ve wondered how the Japanese survived winter with no insulation. The museum gave out free tea and a rice cookie.
After all this excitement we went back to the hotel. I had a cup of coffee in the lounge while Sue got on the free computer to check her email. The hotel had two hot baths—one stone and one wooden. Every day the signs were changed so that men and women could experience both in a 2-day stay. We decided to use them. Two Japanese women shared the stone bath with Sue, but I was alone in the men’s bath. There were three washing places low to the floor, and I took a stool and wooden bucket to one of them. Soap and shampoo were at each station in pump bottles. After shampooing and washing and rinsing well, I stepped into the hot tub, which was quite large, say ten feet by ten feet and about three feet deep where I was. For about ten minutes I enjoyed the hot water. There was a round, wooden tub with hotter water, and I had been in one when I was in the service in Japan, but the “cooler” tub was what I wanted now. In the exit/entrance room were three sinks with razors, lotions, combs, and shelves of baskets for clothes and personal items. It was a relaxing experience.
The meals were very prompt, and at seven our “waitress” arrived with the food. We said “Itadakimus.” There were two, thin slices of good beef and two pieces of chicken that were quite good. Again, we still don’t know much of what we ate. As usual, it was subtly flavored.
The special breakfast was good. Cold scrambled eggs, toast of thick pre-buttered bread, marmalade, salad, coffee, tea, and a yogurt drink. We had enjoyed our stay at the hotel, which was in excellent condition, with blonde, perfect wood, doors that slid with a touch of the finger. A very attractive hotel, but a bit uncomfortable sitting for the Westerner.
When we checked out we found we had to pay the owner to forward our two bags to Kanazawa; she would pay the shipper. She said the paper forecast good weather for the day. With our backpacks we were off to the bus station, where we were 16 minutes early and there was already a long line. Everyone got on the bus, and there were a few extra seats.
Okamachi (Shirakawago) was overcast. A long, narrow bridge connected the parking lot to the town. Inside Japan said we could phone the proprietor and get a ride, but it was only a short walk to the minshuku (home-stay house). The proprietor spoke very good English and told us how to get to Iijima, the nearby village where the sake festival was taking place on that day. Check in was 3 PM, dinner was 7. We had taken an earlier bus, and it was about 10:30; the bus to Iijima was at 1:10. We spent the three hours walking around the village with hundreds of other visitors. It rained a good part of the time, sometimes heavily. The town was attractive, with tall, thatched houses with very thick thatch, 2 or 3 feet thick. At the top of a hill there was an overlook of the town, but it was quite hazy, so the photos were probably a waste of time. For lunch we had a delicately flavored mango soft ice cream. There was a Nippon Rally driving through town; the cars were mostly small sports coupes, some without tops--the occupants getting pretty wet in the rain. There were probably close to 30 cars, all spread out in the traffic. The occupants were smiling and enjoying themselves.
At 1:10 the bus arrived. How they keep to schedule is a wonder. Sue asked the driver several times if the bus went to Iijima. He couldn’t understand her, so Sue showed him a map. He said, “Ah, Iijima! Hai.” We were the only passengers on the bus, and the ride took a little over ten minutes. The bus let us off in the town, but we had no idea where the festival was or, really, what went on. The hotel proprietor had said she would pick us up at five and drew a map to point out where she would pick us up. Sue wanted to find the pickup point before we looked for the festival. A man directing traffic told us where the shrine was, and we walked down the road to find it.
We found it and the festival—the Doburoku Matsui, the time for the residents of the valley to give thanks for a good rice harvest. It was obviously the site of the festival because there were about eight food stalls set up near the shrine. The people in the stalls were all cooking food, except one stall that was one where you tried to knock over six stacked cans. I never saw any customers there; maybe he had tacky prizes. I recognized noodles and fried eggs; the rest of the food was a mystery. For 400 yen I bought a cup in a cardboard box and got a couple tablespoons of unrefined sake with small curds still in it.
Eventually, the procession arrived: people in old Japanese formal clothing: kimonos; a dragon or lion, a large drum on wheels. Also, a large, gold painted object under a plastic cover (to protect it from the rain) arrived on wheels and was carried into the shrine by four men with helpers. Something went on in the shrine for some time, with various people walking up the steps to observe. More and more people arrived after we did, and they were still coming in.
A space was cleared in front of the steps to the shrine, people gathered about, and a demonstration took place. Four men under a painted cloth with a dragon/lion head at the front did a wriggly dance to the music of a flute and a drum. It went on for some time; occasionally another person was involved, probably a human fighting off this dragon/lion. Some other things went on, some announcements, some important looking people walking around. Long, thin bamboo mats were rolled out on the ground almost three feet apart. The people sat on these mats back to back. Over three hundred people sat on these mats and after some more announcements, girls in white aprons moved up the aisles pouring the unfiltered sake into the cups of the people. Sake is under strict government supervision; this was the only time during the year when sake, unrefined, could be distributed to the people. When the girls ran out of sake, they went back and got more. Seconds, thirds, fourths…were OK.
I had seconds, and then we went across the street because our legs were getting sore. I bought a coffee from a vending machine, which ground the coffee; it was hot and good. Behind the store there was a well-done, full-sized, in-house display of an old house being constructed. It showed the laying of the roof grass, the construction of the beams, and the building of the floors and walls. Life-sized construction workers were all busy. A little before we were to be picked up, I went back across the street to see a lot of very happy people. The vendors were still cooking and a few people were still buying. The mats were being rolled up and the trash was being collected. It was obviously a successful enterprise.
At ten to five the hotel owner was kind enough to pick us up. We took our shoes off, went through the dining room, and entered our room, which was quite small. Except for a four foot high stack of bedding in one corner, the room was empty. There were two shelves containing a small TV and a set of rules for the minshuku. An Australian couple with their two children were staying there also. There was one shower with sink and a toilet room with a urinal and two enclosed toilets. After mulling it over and talking with the Australians, we figured out that we would make the beds. I did my best to supervise Sue, but she was very fast.
At seven, dinner was served at three low tables around a square fire pit. The fire had gone out, but there was a wood stove still emitting heat. We sat on cushions, and I had a lot of trouble finding someplace to put my legs. I was not comfortable. Dinner was the usual array of small dishes containing the usual mysterious food. We read for a bit and hit the sack.
Sue and I decided to skip the shower. Breakfast wasn’t until eight, so I went out for a walk. The day promised to be sunny. There were a few people out, but the buses had not started arriving yet. The Australian man chose a Japanese breakfast, but the rest of us chose the “toast” breakfast, which consisted of toast, jam, scrambled egg with a small sausage, salad, and tea.
Plenty of time was available to visit the reconstructed village near the bus stop. It is made up of about 15 houses moved there from the surrounding area. It is attractively arranged, especially in the sun. If one takes his shoes off, he can enter the buildings. Some exhibits were available in the buildings.
An hour bus ride got us to Kanazawa on the coast of the Sea of Japan. Our shipped bags had arrived, and we left our back packs for a walk to the Kenrokuen Garden. Omi-Cho Market was on the way, so we wandered through it and had lunch of beer and pizza. The pizza was served after a salad, which consisted of salad and couple of fish slices. The crust of the pizza was good, although the center was very thin.
The walk continued to the Garden, which is listed as number three in the best gardens in Japan. Admission was free to those of us over 65, which my driver’s license confirmed. It was pleasant; we saw one or two flowers blooming. Lots of water was running. Several busloads of tourists were there taking pictures of each other. Workers were trimming the pine trees and working in the grass. We were feeling our age and left after 45 minutes or so. Stopping at the market, we picked up a bottle of sake--checking our dictionary to communicate with the store clerk--two cans of beer, and a few things to eat for dinner. It is hard to find things in Japanese markets; finding fish is easy, but anything else is a toss-up.
The breakfast was advertised as a buffet, but there wasn’t a lot to choose from: scrambled eggs, a roll, jelly, rice, rice soup, juice, coffee, tea, ham slices from a prepared roll. We were brought yogurt with two sauces. I think mine was kiwi, but it was a very subtle sauce. Nothing in English, of course.
At nine we walked up to Kanazawa Castle Park. The large building being reconstructed was under plastic sheeting; we walked around that to the building that had been finished, a long building that had been used to store armament and was a watchtower. Being of advanced age, we got in free. After taking off our shoes, we went through the building of beautiful wood. Part of the building was in diamond shape (rhombus), which took much skill from the carpenters. There were several examples of the joining work done at the supporting pillars. The third floor was small and used for observation of the surrounding area. The steps were very steep. There were not many others in the building, and it was a pleasant experience.
After walking around the grounds some more, we left for Department Store 109. There was no food floor, but there were restaurants on every other floor. On the second floor we ate at Mother Earth, which served waffles, etc. The food was quite good, waffles, ice cream, whipped cream, and bananas. I had a coffee, but, when I asked for seconds, I was told it would cost 550 yen, and I demurred.
The Kanazawa Shinise Memorial Hall (old merchant house) cost 100 yen each to enter. It was obviously a slow day because the ticket man was completely asleep, sitting in his chair. The building was interesting, having several exhibits, one showing the pharmaceutical part of the business. To see the interior of the house we had to take our shoes off. There was a tree made up only of candy(!), and a display of gift wrapping.
On the way to our next stop, we stopped at a store selling games. I thought it was closed until my foot hit the entrance pad and the door opened. They were selling shoji, go, and mah jong games, among other items. A man (clerk?) was tying up a box in the back of the store. When we left, I said, “Arigato.” He just kind of looked at me.
Our goal was the Myoryuji Temple, also called Ninja-dera; we had asked our hotel receptionist to make reservations for us. It was very difficult for us to find, although it was listed clearly on the map, because nowhere was there anything in English. We saw a bunch of school kids leaving by an opening in the wall; Sue said, “That must be a school.” I asked one of the boys if he spoke English, he didn’t, so I asked about the Myoryuji Temple. After a few pronunciation exchanges, he said this was that temple. There were several other students with him, and they got a kick out of helping us. We went in and found a kiosk and asked the girl if this was the temple, and eventually got the confirmation. She said to wait in front of the temple. I went outside the front gate, on another street, but there was nothing in English there.
There was nothing oral in English during our stay. The group went up to the door and left their shoes in the cabinet; so did we. When we got to the door, the girl checked our name against the reservation list and let us in, asking me to leave my Michigan pack in the storage room (by pointing). We waited through about five minutes of Japanese until we were told (by pointing) to join a group. They had given us booklets in English, because the guide spoke only Japanese. The tour was quite interesting; there were secret stairs, hidden passageways, trick doors. The four story building had seven levels. The tours seemed to be full, so the Japanese must find the building interesting. Although it is called the Ninja temple, it was not built by the Ninjas. The tricks of the interior reminded people of the Ninjas, giving it its name.
At dinner time we went to a department store’s 6th floor and chose an Italian restaurant, having spaghetti. My salmon and broccoli dish looked and tasted like bacon and broccoli, but otherwise was good, although there was no bread. On the first floor we had frozen yogurt for dessert.
After breakfast, we said goodbye to our tiny room and took the train to Kyoto, a two hour trip. We found our way to the subway and got instructions on getting tickets and got to our stop, the first one. No escalator or elevator was evident, so we toted our bags up the stairs and to the hotel. The hotel had a laundry room that took coins, so we did our laundry while waiting to check in.
We took a walk and looked for somewhere to eat dinner. Two restaurants were in a brochure we had, but we could not find them. All the writing was in Japanese, and they were closed at that time. We did find a third, although it wasn’t easy.
At six we went back to the third restaurant and found they had no tables until eight! So we walked back to the hotel and had steak dinners. The steak was very tender but the taste was very subtle. I ordered French fries and they were good. Sue’s garlic bread was subtly garlic. The music was horrible. Some woman singing in English, or should I say screeching in English.
At breakfast classical music was playing in the same restaurant. Their buffet was wider, with omelets, bacon, ham, a variety of Japanese dishes, toast, coffee, and tea. Our guide arrived promptly at 9. Although we were interested in the Jidai Matsuri Festival (this parade depicts the various ages of Kyoto with people in period dress), Mariko said we would have to stand there for an hour before the parade to get any kind of spot for photographs. That dampened our spirits for the parade. We took the train to the north western part of the city, Arashiyama, and visited the Seiryoji Temple and the Tenryuji Temple. The day was beautiful, with only a few clouds in the sky. A lot of school kids in uniform were at the temples and the business area. Mariko said some kids came from schools in other towns and visited Kyoto for the week. For lunch I had sukiyaki, and Sue had some tempura. Mariko had eel. Mariko had spent a year in England and a year in the US. Her English was good, but with an obvious Japanese accent.
After eating, we visited Daikakuji Temple. The three temples have sort of melded together, but I remember walking through a bamboo woods that was quite different. The color for this part of Kyoto was orange instead of red for temples. The last stop of the day was the Golden Pavilion, Kinkakuji Temple. We started walking to it, but after 20 minutes or so Mariko said it was another 40 minutes, so I said, “Let’s take the bus!” Mariko walked rather slowly, and I was getting tired.
We got there at a perfect time. The sun was low in the sky shining on the gold colored building reflected in the water; it glowed. On our first trip, we had visited this spot, but it was not as stunning as it was now. The current building is a reconstruction; the original had been burned by an arsonist before our former visit. By the time we left the grounds, clouds were blocking the sun. Mariko got us back by bus and subway. She had done a great job, and we thanked her.
For dinner we took the subway back to the JR station and looked through the restaurants in the Porta section. They even had a sandwich place. Japanese was the choice that night; I had some tempura and noodles; Sue had soba and tempura. While eating in Japan, we found most of the food was cold, except the soups. When something was cooked at the table, that was hot, of course. Napkins, when they were present, were small and very thin. Water was usually served.
Breakfast was followed by a walk to Nijo Castle, built in 1626. Several school groups accompanied us through the castle in stockings. The castle had nightingale floors to alert the occupants to intruders. Most Japanese rooms, including this castle, are empty. When they are used, chairs and tables are brought in. Two or three of the rooms were set up displaying meetings, the rest did have paintings on the walls from the time of construction. Upon leaving, we put our shoes on again and went through the gardens. Only a few flowers were blooming, but the water with rocks and bridges made it look attractive.
Lunch was at a Lawson’s where they had a strip table against the window and several chairs. By the time we got to the station it was getting close to the time for our next appointment. Finding how large a ticket to buy and the right gate took time, and then we waited while two express trains roared by. It was about twenty to one when we arrived at Katsura Station; our “tour” started at one.
We zipped out of the station and got in a cab, showing the driver our Inside Japan directions. The driver was good, and we arrived at Saihoji Temple with a minute to spare. The shoes came off, I paid the 6,000 yen fee, and we were shown into the temple. The fifteen stations with chairs at tables, were, of course, taken. Sue and I joined the hundred or so people at the low writing desks. An invocation was given, punctuated with drum beats and an occasional bell. In Japanese, of course. Then, with brush and ink, we visitors started copying the sutras. One of the religious men came over to us and said in excellent English that we did not have to copy the whole thing and could go to the garden whenever we wished. He did ask that we put our names, addresses, and a wish on the paper and leave it before we went to the garden.
The copying was done on a thin paper where the sutras had been printed faintly. The characters were rather small, so it was not easy for a person used to using a ball point pen to accomplish the task. After I had finished two columns, my leg started going to sleep, and I got up, limped over to deposit my effort, and went outside to wait for Sue.
After putting the shoes on again, we walked to the moss garden. We thought we might have been here on our previous visit, but we had not. The garden is a pond surrounded by trees. Moss grows on the ground and around the base of the trees. Some of the trees had started to change color, which was attractive; getting them reflected in the water made a nice photograph. Although there had been a lot of people at the writing, there were only a few on the path around the pond. The moss was attractive, and there were various types of moss, but I know very little about moss. The trip around the pond was very pleasant. An interesting side note about this garden is that the copying of the sutras was put in place to discourage tourists. So many people were tramping all over the moss that the garden was being ruined. The temple decided to charge a lot of yen and require sutra copying in order to keep the number of visitors down to only those who were really determined to see the garden.
The man at the gate, who also spoke English, gave us a couple of ways to get back, and we decided on a bus. The wrong bus. It took us 20 or more minutes to go four blocks when we came to a movie house on a two-lane road. It took over an hour to get back to a familiar place.
We decided to get more yen and went into a “bank,” where we found about ten stations at which to do business, but no clerks and nothing in English. As we were passing Takashimaya Department Store, Sue said we should ask them where we could change money. They said, “Here.” When they pointed it out, the exchange rate was written out on a sign on the desk. The rate was a bit better in our favor, 88.45 yen per dollar.
For dinner, we ate at a restaurant where the customer decided what he wanted, bought a ticket at a vending machine for that item, and gave it to the waitress. We both chose ginger pork; there was not much pork, but it tasted fine.
Our last full day in Kyoto was our shopping day. We walked up to the Kyoto Handicraft Center, which took about an hour, and did a good bit of shopping. I bought a Japanese dagger with a display stand, a book on the largest battleship in the world, and a few other items. Sue bought a T-shirt, a ceramic kitchen knife, and four woodblock prints. We took the subway back to the hotel, rested an hour, and started out on the Geisha Walk.
We were to meet Peter Macintosh in front of the Minamiza Theater in the Gion district. When we got there, the front of the theater was packed with Japanese. They were waiting to get in to the theater. Boxes were being passed out to the customers: refreshments for the intermission. When most of the people had gone into the theater, we saw Peter and gave him a wave. We chatted for a bit, waiting for “maybe one or two” other people. They did not show up.
He took us to his “club,” a private bar where he served alcohol. It was run rather strangely, and we weren’t really sure how it worked.
Walking down the street we saw two women in kimonos with their faces whitened. Peter said they were not Geishas, just girls out to have their pictures taken. I took their picture anyway, and got the finger V sign. The symbol means “peace,” we learned, and it has really caught on with the kids in Japan. A bit farther we met five young women in kimonos who were going home from a Geisha class. There were two Geisha schools nearby offering classes to the aspiring young women. These were multistory buildings. Peter’s wife had been a Geisha. As we went along, Peter would chat briefly with some of the locals. He read and spoke Japanese and had lived in Japan for 16 years. He was a former professional soccer player in Canada, until the team went kaput. We spent most of the twilight hour walking around the neighborhood. Peter was willing to answer any of our questions, none of which I remember.
We ate at one of the restaurants in Takashimaya. In the morning we checked out, forwarded our bags, and started our most complicated trip to Koyasan, the headquarters of the Shingon Zen Buddhists. There were a subway ride, a couple of train changes, a cable car (in this case a funicular), and a bus trip.
Off the cable car, we took out our maps to see what bus to take. A Japanese bus driver came over and told us to get on the bus at gate 2. The bus was full, so we had to stand. A Japanese woman with some of her hair dyed blond took up two seats. After several stops, the driver got up and shooed us off the bus, gesturing where we were to go. Many thanks to the helpful Japanese!
Our information was that check-in time here was 4PM; it was a little after 12. I took off my shoes and went up to “reception.” That is in quotes because the room was a real mess, shelves of books and papers, desk with many piles of papers, vertical files full of papers. The table was one with short legs, so anyone would have to cross one’s legs to sit at it. The man in charge of the office found the right file, asked for our voucher, checked our passports, and had me fill out a form. He called over another man, who spoke good English and took us to our rooms. There was a large vestibule, a main room, a bedroom with beds on the floor already made, and a toilet area with sink (cold water only), toilet, and shower/tub. There was a small covered area outside with two normal chairs, which we never got to use: too cold on this mountain top.
In the main room was a small TV, a large metal safe (a foot and a half on a side), a telephone, a heater, a short table with a heating element under it, and cushions. No chairs. There was a large, beautiful garden out the sliding glass doors and past the three-foot verandah. The room had a not-faint odor to it; the best similarity I could think of was a damp house that had been closed up for half a year or so. It was not a pleasant odor, but neither was it terribly unpleasant. Our evaluation of the rooms was that they were top of the line some 30 years ago, but had not been kept up. Some of the paper walls had holes in them; there were stains on the walls; the bathroom had been worked on, rather inefficiently; some of the decorative pieces were missing (a bamboo strip on the ceiling, for instance); the doors slid noisily.
Taking our cameras and regaining our shoes, we went out. A few doors down the street we had noodles for lunch, slurping only slightly less than the natives, and then continued on. The sky was heavily overcast, but no rain fell. More trees were in fall plumage, lots of shades of red and some yellow. Quite attractive. There were lots of religious buildings, of course; this was started as a religious site, and women were not allowed in the area. Now a town has grown up around the temples, buses run regularly, the cable car meets the train.
A bit after four we were back in the hotel, trying to find a comfortable spot where we could read. I found a solid abutment near the door to the toilet, and arranged a few cushions. Sue was able to sit up! At 5:20 there was a knock on the jam of the outer door. I opened the door from the main room and a man was standing in the hall saying “Itchi-something.” I shook my head in bewilderment; he made circular motions near his mouth. I finally decided he wanted us to go eat--40 minutes early! We followed him down the hall in our stocking feet, into the dining hall, and into a large room where our dinner was sitting on four small tables. Cushions were there, but, of course, no chairs. The food was good, but we were uncomfortable eating it. I’d have one foot out, then the other foot, then I’d try both out, sometimes cross-legged. All the time my back was slightly aching. As usual, most of the food was unrecognizable. We had chopsticks and a soup spoon. No one was watching us, so we broke several eating rules I’m sure. Knowing which dish to dip into which sauce was just a guess. After dinner, I limped back to our room.
The man who showed us to our room had said the religious service started in the morning at 6:30. We set the alarm for 5:30 to leave time to shower beforehand. The bedroom was cold and the top cover didn’t quite get all my feet, so I put a blanket over the bottom. The futon was comfortable, although a bit thin.
At 5:30 it was cold, and we decided not to shower. At six we got up and dressed and were at the room of the religious services by 6:30. No one was there. A woman, we assumed it was a woman because of the voice, said “Good morning.” Her head was shaved and she was wearing the orange and brown “uniform” of the temple. It was quite dark in the room, although a few candles were burning. She took us around telling us a little about the various icons, such as “This is new.” The sides of the room were filled with hundreds of icons of many different sizes. After ten minutes, we found out that the service started at 7, so we went back to our room.
A couple of minutes before seven we were back, and the service had already begun. Five Japanese staying at the hotel were kneeling in front of us; we sat on low chairs with backs and sliding feet that curved under the chair. The monks were chanting; occasionally one of them hit a large bowl that resounded; occasionally a bell rang once. One of the monks came out and spoke to the seven of us in Japanese. After five minutes or so he called us up one by one and put a woven, highly colored bracelet on our left wrists; then we walked on our knees to an incense burner. I don’t know what the Japanese did, but I looked at it for a few seconds and got up and went back to my seat.
After a half hour, we visitors got up and went to breakfast. It was a small breakfast, soup, rice, tea, and two or three unidentified dishes.
This was the only really bad day of our trip. It had started raining before midnight, and it rained all day. It was not a heavy rain, but it kept coming. Instead of walking as we had planned, we stayed in our room reading and trying to get comfortable and trying to ignore the odor. For an hour I went to a spot off the dining area where there were four easy chairs and a sofa. I used one of the seat cushions for a back pillow and read, although cold air was pouring in between the sliding outside panels.
The day before, we had bought some items for lunch on the trail. We ate them for lunch with some tea which had been brought to us in good thermoses. Just as two large bus loads of Japanese tourists were coming in for lunch, we decided to go out. I was able to borrow an umbrella, and we walked through part of a huge cemetery. The path was stone and ran through the forest of giant cedar trees, a yard in diameter. Grave stones were everywhere. In Japan 90 some per cent of the deceased are cremated, so the only space needed is for the stone. The stones varied in size from tiny to gigantic. The older stones were covered in moss. Every once in a while, we would pass a stone with a metal sieve in front of it, usually containing some coins. Since it rained so much, sieves were more practical than bowls. Some of the figures on the stones had colored bibs, a few were more completely dressed. There were several other people, locals, on the path. We passed a fairly large stone labeled “Panasonic” and another with two statues of workers labeled “Nissan.” One site had a 25-foot rocket ship. Our pants below the knees were pretty wet when we got back to the hotel.
We ate (next to a room that held an American family with a small child), showered, slept, and were out of the hotel a little after 6:30. The night before, I tried to tell the person who took us to dinner that we would not have breakfast since we were leaving early. He did not understand the Japanese word for breakfast as we pronounced it, several times. After dinner, we told the man who had checked us in. He understood the “breakfast” part, but wasn’t sure what ei meant (no) in this context. He sent another man to our room who spoke English, and we were able to finally get the message across.
We waited in the rain at the bus stop with two men speaking French. They also spoke excellent English. The bus arrived in time, the cable car left on time, the train left a few minutes after the cable car arrived. After five different carriers, we got back to our local station in Tokyo. Inside Japan did an excellent job getting us from place to place, and the forwarding of luggage was a great boon. I arranged for an earlier train to Narita the next day.
Maps were always a problem whether they were on a poster beside the walk or on a piece of paper. We have found north at the top of the map all our lives. In Japan and in the directions from Inside Japan, this was not always true. Walking the streets of Japan, one might find a map with north to the left; a few block further on it might be to the lower left or to the right. It was always a concern.
We had been told that the Narita Express train was hard to find. It was. It was because one had to go on one track and then take stairs to Track 5. The United check-in was very helpful. It is never very interesting to sit around an airport for several hours, even in business class lounges. Sue bought a few things and I changed our yen back into dollars. The flight to Seattle was OK, although the seats were not as good as flying over. They did not go perfectly flat. Seattle was an experience. We whizzed through passport control, and then waited almost an hour and a half while the workmen tried to open the container with our bags. When we got our bags, we went through customs, gave our bags back to United, took four or five trains, and got to our airplane about ten minutes before it was due to take off. How our bags ever made it, I don't know.
Denver was an interminable lay over. It was snowing and planes were late and being canceled. What a boring wait, 5-6 hours, when one is in the middle of the night. We finally did get home. The cats, as usual, were completely indifferent.