*** Note: as of September 2010, this has been sitting in my drafts for nearly five months. I’ve decided – given that it was almost complete and was just waiting on photos to be added – to backdate the published date to when it was written. I’m sneaky like that. The other drafts are far patchier, and will be discarded in favour of a Best Of photo post. ***

Sunday rolled around way too fast for my liking. We had to check out of our very comfortable lodgings, and Gem was booked on a flight home that evening. Boo.

In the morning (post-checkout), we made a beeline for Yoyogi Park, in the hopes of catching some of the famed craziness that goes on there of a Sunday. Mum and I had attempted something similar last trip, but due to some rather ambiguous maps, one incidence of alighting at the wrong JR Station (Yoyogi rather than Harajuku), lack of a tour guide or local friend to lead us in the right direction, and an unusual inability to follow noses/intuition/gut instincts, we never made it. I was not making that mistake again.

Thanks to the combination of Google maps street view and some serious staring at a paper map for what felt like hours, we managed to arrive at Yoyogi without a single wrong turn (why couldn’t it have worked like that last time???). It was quite cold, but thankfully not raining, which was a pleasant change. It appeared that the cold had kept some people away though, as there were only a handful of morning walkers/runners and a few families with kids in strollers wandering around near the entrance.  We set off down the path, playing a game of ‘tourist or resident?’ with every non-East-Asian face we saw (guys were more difficult than girls, who could be divided by their choice of hand luggage; dog walkers were always added to the resident category).

The sakura were out on show, and a number of hanami party-ers were gearing up with their tarps and picnic baskets (breakafast picnic, anyone?), the dog walkers were out in force, and a vision-impaired fun run was in progress. There were plenty of people on the oval with frisbees and soccer balls, and a couple of school sports groups were doing morning training runs and drills. The eccentrics, however, were nowhere to be found.

We came to the conclusion as we were leaving, and we passed a handful of cosplayers on their way in, that we were too early for the fun to have started.  Ah well, shou ga nai, ne?

Next stop was Meiji Jingu, which Mum and I had visited last year, but was worth the return trip for Gem. The walk to the shrine had a different feel this time around – rather than bright greens, dappled sunlight, cicadas and respite from the heat and humidity of September, we faced a grey March morning with more light (less foliage?) and less of the noises of nature. ‘Tourist or resident?” became ‘pick the nationality’ as we headed into prime tourist territory. We managed to verify a large number of French visitors (Gallic noses and pale complexions), a couple of Americans (girl with too much makeup and clothing that belonged in an Abercrombie catalogue) and some Brits (how do you explain British faces? They just… are).

After a quick poke around the main shrine, we retraced our steps and braved a trip down Takeshita Dori, where we made a few extra fashion purchases before hitting Meiji Dori and looping back around to the station.

It was too early to go back to the hotel yet, so we headed back up to Ueno for one last look at the cherry blossoms, and a self-take for the road. We didn’t get to wander around for long though, as the sky decided early afternoon was the perfect time for a downpour – the story of our trip! We headed back indoors in search of sweets ( a frustratingly protracted exercise, due to getting lost in a few underground malls, and the fact that the shop I had initially intended to go to had closed up and been replaced by a drycleaners), which we eventually procured successfully, and then headed back to the hotel to eat and move house.

Upon returning to Nippori Station, we walked around the corner in an attempt to buy Gem a ticket for the Skyliner in advance. Yes, I said attempt. Yes, that was foreshadowing. No, the situation did not end particularly well.

Our general entering and exiting habits at Nippori Station had been thus: enter via the south entrance (straight down the road from the 7Eleven on route from our neighbourhood), exit via the west exit (which is the first one you reach when leaving the platform, but is a bit out of the way). Herein lies the root of our problem; from the south exit, there’s a direct route through to the Keisei (airport express) line, including ticket machines for reservations located outside the Keisei barriers. But because we left the JR station and went around the corner to the street entrance to the Keisei station, and then tried to enter with our Suica cards (which, may I add, worked) we got ourselves caught inside the station and unable to swipe back out, which I gather was because we hadn’t actually gone anywhere.

Gem and I wandered around to the main barrier between the Keisei and JR stations, played around with the reservation machine until we were familiar with it, and then tried to swipe through that gate and back to the JR platform. No joy. I then had the joy of trying to explain to the station master where we’d come from and where we were trying to go. I think I must have misunderstood one of his questions wrongly, though, and hence given the wrong answer, because the next thing we knew, we were back in JR Nippori Station, trying to explain to their stationmaster that we just wanted to get back outside.

The JR stationmaster was a lot less friendly than the Keisei one. He just kept telling me in Japanese that we couldn’t exit there (even by buying a gate pass) and would have to get off at another station. Right. Yes. That makes sense. So after about 30 seconds of (futile) attempted negotiation, we got back on the train and travelled one station to Nishi-Nippori (West Nippori), and walked back to the ryokan from there. Annoying.

We were hoping to find somewhere – a park, preferably, but even a bench on the side of the road would have been fine – to stop and eat our desserts, but as luck would have it, parks only exist when you neither have the time or inclination to go into them. So we arrived back at our accommodation and deliberated as to whether it was polite to go inside and eat food bought elsewhere in their dining area when we were technically no longer guests. In the end we decided that no, it would not be good manners. Then we proceeded to sit on a low wall outside and eat there, which in hindsight might actually have been even less mannered. Not really sure about that. We certainly illicited a lot of stares from passers by, but I’m not sure whether that was the gaijin factor, or the “wa~! umaisou!” (“oh, that looks yummy!”) factor, or the why-are-you-sitting-on-a-wall-eating-montblanc-with your fingers factor. Regardless, the cakes were good, and we went inside to collect our bags with our sweet tooths (sweet teeth?) sated.

After the usual repacking and dawdling, we headed out and down to the station again, where Gem booked herself a Skyliner seat and headed one way, and I went back to the JR platform (thankfully with no further swipe-y trouble) and caught a train to Ikebukuro.

Even on a Sunday evening, the Yamanote line was fairly busy, and I had the usual fun of trying to fit multiple travel bags onto a commuter train not designed for this purpose. Thankfully, it was only about a 10 minute trip, and then I was out of there and off to my new lodgings at the Sakura Hotel, which was about a ten minute walk from the west exit.

I shouldn’t bitch about the hotel, as there was nothing particularly wrong with it, but after the lovely (quasi) ryokan in Yanaka, a budget hotel marketed primarily to backpackers was a bit of a step down. The room was possibly the smallest I had seen in my travels (and having spent the bulk of my travel time in Europe and East Asia, I’m used to small rooms), had a damp and musty smell to it, and soon displayed a number of irritating idiosyncrasies (an airconditioner that made a loud noise like creaky pipes at random intervals, regardless of whether it was switched on or off; no power points in the bathroom, but no mirror near the power outlets; an dim orange light in the bathroom that made it impossible to put on makeup; internet that would randomly drop out, despite being connected via network cable; a shower head that resolutely pointed at the wall, no matter how much it was twisted back toward the room). Still, to be philosophical about the experience, it allowed me to appreciate how good the service and amenities had been in the previous accommodation.

The first night had me so exhausted from the relocation that I didn’t go out and explore, settling for conbini bento and canned coffee for dinner (mmm, healthy). As a final note, the block I was located on boasted three Family Marts, as well as an ampm across the street, a 7Eleven a block further down, and a 99 Store supermarket around the corner. Overkill, much? Methinks yes. I wonder if it set any records…?

It rained again on Thursday, but as the extended forecast wasn’t looking too special, so we decided to bite the bullet and head down to Yokohama for the day. Outdoors was bitingly cold; never had I been so grateful to be dressed like the Michelin Man!

Yet another thing to love about Japan (or Toyko at least – I haven’t experienced other cities in the colder months) is heated train seats. They seem to warm you up more effectively than hot air pumped through the air conditioner, and make things marginally less stuffy. On the down side, they’re a bit sleep-inducing… Thirty minutes after departing Tokyo, we were in Yokohama.

The original plan had been to head down to Minato Mirai, take a walk around the harbour and maybe head to the amusement park. But when we hopped off the subway at Minato Mirai Station, the weather wasn’t really encouraging this. In fact, it wasn’t really encouraging anything other than rugging up and staying indoors with a hot drink. We’d made the trek, though, so the outdoors had to be braved!

We took a look at the theme park, but between the rain and an unpleasant breeze, it wasn’t really worth going into. We continued on around the harbour. There were a fair few girls from Kanagawa University dressed up in full graduation gear (that’s Japanese style – kimono-eque dresses – rather than robes and furs), who must have been freezing. None of them seemed to be hanging around outside for long, though. Apologies for not having pictures of them. Stealth photography is difficult on a clear day, but when it’s raining and you’re trying to juggle a camera, handbag and umbrella and not get said camera wet…

Eventually, with the cold starting to seep through the layers of clothing, we retreated into a shopping complex. The initial plan had just been to warm up, but this soon turned into an impromptu shopping expedition, complete with Engrish signage:

We had kaiten-sushi (sushi train) for lunch, and followed it (not directly, our stomachs couldn’t manage it, but soonish) with crepes. Or should the be creaps? Yeah. The poor girl on crepe making duty gave up on mine after three failed attempts, but the manager on duty stepped in and eventually got the job done. Having learnt from last year about the richness of Japanese crepes, I stuck with the simple strawberry and custard option. Gem (if I remember correctly) went with an option involving pie, which she later referred to as a ‘dessert wrapped in a dessert’. The store we visited – as often happens in Japan – had a brag board with pictures of famous people who’d eaten there. The only one I recognised was Kato Natsuki from Hana Yori Dango.

Lucky Gem got to look like a guts while holding both crepes for the photo…

Then it was time to pack up and head back to Tokyo; me with a new pair of boots in an incongruously large bag that was a pain and a half on the train. Have some pictures for the road:

Wednesday was pencilled in as our Yokohama day trip, but we woke up to sub-ten-degree temperatures, wind and rain. Given that most of the day trip plans involved outdoor activities, we made a quick reshuffle, and created an indoors-as-much-as-possible itinerary. Unfortunately, the weather precluded me from getting out my beloved LX3 for fear of water damage (or dropping it due to the numbness of my hands).

So we jumped on the Yamanote Line at Nippori – which is so much simpler to do this time round, thanks to the Suica – and headed down to Tokyo Station. First stop, the Rilakkuma store. Rilakkuma is one of those cutesy, cartoonish Japanese characters along a similar vein to Hello Kitty; they serve no real purpose – they’re not a mascot for a brand or a club, or part of a manga or anime series – and seem to exist solely to be kawaii. Rilakkuma does it well. So well that some money might very well have been spent. Ahem.

Tokyo station has an underground shopping ‘street’ full of character stores like those for Kitty and Rilakkuma, and the merchandise therein is a testament to mindless consumerism – character-branded hand towels and toilet seat covers, lunch boxes, birth date mugs, stickers, headphones, aprons, pedometers, netbooks and more – a hundred percent about want and zero products that we really need. It’d make an interesting thesis topic, if it hasn’t been done already.

From there, completely unaided by a map and relying on my hazy memory, we moved on to the Meiji Chocolate Cafe. I first read about it here, and somehow got the impression that it was standard-cafe-sized. This was not the case. There are three or four benches, plus a bench seat built in to the front window. The place probably couldn’t hold much more than a dozen people. Having said that, the dark wood and low lighting of the minimalist fitout was very nice, especially on a cold, drizzly morning. We both got the cake set (Mum, you’d be proud), though in hindsight it was more like a cupcake set – the tiny chocolatey morsels were even smaller than the usual modest portion sizes you get here. They tasted pretty good, though, as did the very rich hot chocolate that accompanied them. As an added bonus, out set came with a piece of the chocolate of the day. Yum!

Sometime after morning tea, Gem realised that the almost constant rain had started to find its way into the worn-down parts of her boots, sending us on an impromptu shoe hunt in Shibuya. Correction – an impromptu sock hunt, because shoes were too big a commitment. I could make comments about deckchairs on the Titanic, but Gem’s heard them already, and no-one else needs it. My descent from the earlier sugar high probably didn’t help the situation, though this was remedied by a bowl of ramen at a place purporting to sell soba (seriously, the sign outside said soba, but the only options inside were ramen and onigiri). Socks were eventually purchased at GAP, and I believe we were back to square one (squelch-wise) by the time we’d headed down the road to Tower Records. As a side note, I now have the latest albums from いきものがかり (ikimonogakari) and サカナクション (sakanaction). Yes, I recommend both of them. Here, have an awesome video clip:

サカナクション – アルキアラウンド (It would be nice if I could embed the video, but WordPress is being a *****, so for the moment a link will have to suffice.)

The wet-foot situation was now becoming a noticeable problem again, so we set off for Ikebukuro’s Sunshine City complex in search of shelter and footwear. The latter was found before we even got through the centre’s entrance, in the form of black sparkly gumboots at ABC Mart. Sunshine City itself presented us with variations on the fashion themes of Shibuya and Harajuku, as well as a hotel, a gyoza theme park, and an aquarium (which we couldn’t find at the time, but further research has suggested that it’s in the World Import Mart building, which we had skipped).

After copious amounts of window shopping, we headed back out into the cold in search of food, which we found in a side street cafe. We took up residence at the window of the (mercifully smoke-free) second floor and people-watched for a while. Actually, we umbrella-watched, given the height of our vantage point and the continuing rain, and I could draw only one conclusion: despite the reputation of Tokyo as being at the cutting edge of fashion, people here still favour black and navy umbrellas, just like Sydneysiders. The people who don’t are the the ones who were caught short without shelter, and were forced to buy one of the funky see-though ones from a convenience store.

Eventually, we packed ourselves up, jumped back on the Yamanote line and made our way back to Nippori.

[N.B. Re the day's step count - because I was cheap and bough the $30 pedometer rather than the $50 one, I fell victim to the accidentally-reset-it-by-leaning-against-something problem. However, it was just over 25K at 7pm, and nearly at 2K when we got home for the night. Hence, I gather we were somewhere around the 27K mark...]

I’m back! Now with added Gem…

(Note: I have most of my blog posts in draft format, and will be posting over the next day or two. I’m slow, yes, but that’s what happens when you’re out doing stuff all day…)

The flight on Monday was surprisingly comfortable – the extra however many dollars ($20? $40?) for exit row seats on Jetstar meant we arrived at Narita feeling far less seedy than is usual after a long-haul flight in cattle class. Somehow managed – despite being in the back half of the plane – to be the one of the first through immigration (there was no queue; I can’t remember that ever happening before at any international airport), where there were no delays. Fingerprints, photo, stamp in the passport and out the other side in under a minute and a half. Bags came out within the first twenty on the carousel. Fifteen minute wait for the Keisei Skyliner, which gave us ample time to use up the coinage from last year’s trip for (hot!) canned coffee from a vending machine. Fifty minutes on the train, then a fifteen minute walk to the ryokan (thanks to Google Maps’ street view for giving me a virtual walkthrough in advance!). All overseas trips should be this simple!

Annex Katsutaro is a clayton’s ryokan – they don’t give you brekkie as a matter of course (it’s at an extra charge), and the facilities are limited to two computers in the foyer. The rooms are comfortable, though, and it’s in a quiet residential area out the back of Nippori (Yanaka, to be exact). It has a cute little shoutengai (商店街 – high street) running down the middle of it, which makes me feel like I’ve stepped on to a j-drama set (“結カツ！” anyone?).

We made do with a conbini dinner – onigiri, followed by coffee jelly for me (oh, I had missed it so) and berry-cheesecake-y thing for Gem (G, if you can remember what it was, tell me!). Given how late it was, and how the trains stop running at midnight, we decided a walk around Yanaka and Sendagi was the best idea. Here are some highlights:

Incidentally, it appears 10pm is peak dog-walking hour. Not sure whether that’s because the owners have just got home from work, or whether it’s a last-trip-out-before-bed kind of arrangement. Chihuahuas and dachshunds are arguably the most popular breeds – I guess compact dogs work best in compact housing.

Finished the night with the last ever episode of Arashi no Shukudai-kun (though Gem fell asleep before the end – unsubtitled tv in a foreign language at midnight after half  day of travelling probably isn’t that enticing). Yes, people, roll your eyes at the Arashi love if you must, but this was kind of significant. They’ve been running various incarnations of the show in the slot since 2002 – same cast and crew, but changing titles and formats. This time, it wasn’t a show change, it was an end. The boys are moving to a prime time slot, and the crew isn’t coming with them. It was sad, okay? SAD.

Tuesday was spent in Harajuku and Shibuya, having our eyes assaulted with endless floral, lace and denim. Yes, it’s nice in small quantities. Yes, we might actually buy something  of this ilk when we go shopping later in the week. But eight floors of floral-print boaters, lace dresses and denim playsuits in Shibuya 109 (yes, I know, there are more than eight floors, but I’m excluding the restaurants, beauty salon and floor of makeup and hair extensions) is enough to send you round the bend. We exited shell-shocked (and in my case 2000 yen poorer and with a new scarf), and headed to a conbini for fashion magazines, and then Starbucks for  a debrief. And coffee jelly frappacinos, of course.

On a more productive note, we also grabbed a LAN cable and new headphones at Bic Camera. Amusingly enough, doing so somehow triggered a resurrection in Gem’s existing headphones, so I guess she had a back-up now!

Had a chat with M&D (eventually), then headed out to dinner, only to find that – due to something being on the line at Mejiro (looked like a big piece of wire on the news the next day, but my ears couldn’t keep up with the reporter), trains through that station stopped. Bye-bye Yamanote line. So once we twigged to what was going on, we jumped on a Joban line train to Ueno, thinking that was a major enough interchange. Apparently not. Transferred to the Keinin Tohoku line through to Akihabara, then switched to the Chuo line through to Shinjuku. Whew!

Went to dinner at the same sushi joint Ma and I visited last year (because my brain was fried from all the trains, and Gem really wanted sushi). The food was a good as last time – bellies stuffed to bursting for under 1000 yen. Oh Japan, how I love thee.

The Yamanote line was up and running by the time we got back to the station (though there still seemed to be a backlog of passengers who couldn’t or wouldn’t find alternative routes in the meantime. We had a nice, cramped ride back to Nippori, and then headed for bed.

Flickr links are slowly but surely going up. Here’s some sets for starters:

Nikko

Hakone

Takayama

Hiroshima

It took five hours to get to Hiroshima, and commuting arrangements didn’t really work in our favour in the end. The rain belt extended most of the way down the country and – thanks to this fact – the baseball match scheduled that day had been rained out. When we emerged from JR Hiroshima, we were confronted by scores of fans in their Carp shirts and caps queued up for the trams that service the main city area. It was raining. There was precious little shelter. We were all lugging at least two bags (suitcase/backpack and a day bag). And somehow we needed to get ourselves and said luggage up the crowded tram stairs while locals shoved past us (I don’t think we’re in Tokyo any more…).

Our stop was about 20 minutes down the line, and by that stage the crush had eased. We tumbled out of the tram and headed about five minutes further into semi-suburbia (still apartment-living only, mind you) and reached our hotel.

After the amazing put-together-ness of Japanese people Mum had marvelled at so far, she was surprised at the Chesty-Bonds-singlet-and-stubbies look of our accommodation’s proprietor. I must admit I didn’t notice, and hence have no picture of him, but I did manage to snap a shot of an Engrish fail:

The remainder of the day was our own, we were advised by our guide, but we would be meeting for dinner at お好み村 (Okonomi-Mura) in the evening. Right then. Exploration time. Mum and I headed out with a couple of the other girls to wander. We started at Peace Park, wandering through to the A-Bomb Dome via paper crane tributes from school-children around the world, including a few Australian schools (in Melbourne, Ballarat and Perth, if I remember correctly).

Then we ducked down into a subway tunnel and discovered a host of underground shopping. It was mostly fashion, but there was also an imported goods store (all it takes is a week away from home for Tim Tams and Milo bars to be ooh-ed and aah-ed over), and a book store within which I found a Japanese book I thought I’d have no chance of finding on my own. The shop assistant wrapped the cover in paper rather than giving me a bag – eco-friendly and allowed me to read in public without having to acknowledge what I was reading to anyone passing by. すごい、ね。

We eventually popped up to the surface outside Hon-dori, a popular shopping precinct. The first thing I saw when I looked around made me smile:

This is probably the closest I’ll get to Arashi all trip, but that’s totally fine with me. I’m not some crazy teenage fangirl

Hon-dori is a mini-mecca for shopping, and I picked up some good stuff (boots! sneakers! clothes!) on the cheap here. Didn’t go all-out, though, as we had to be mindful of lugging stuff around. There wasn’t really an opportunity to post things home at that stage. We ended up outside Parco (department store) and stumbled on teen hang-out land. Having said that, it’s nothing like teens at home outside shopping centres and train stations – they weren’t overly noisy, everyone was disconcertingly well dressed, there was no drinking/smoking/spitting on the pavement/gum chewing. It was like an odd parallel universe.

Okonomi-mura was just across the street from this, but apparently our reservation had been shunted due to the popularity of okonomiyaki on a Saturday night, so we were told to reconvene in half an hour. We took the time to wander over to Hon-dori Hills, which clearly modelled itself on Tokyo’s Roppongi Hills – fashionable but overpriced, imported, semi-designer brands. The clothes and accessories were very nice, but there was no way I was paying approximately $AUD200 for a short-sleeved shirt. Sorry.

We headed back to the restaurant building again, and waited probably an extra 30 minutes inside for a seat. To explain, Okonomi-Mura (Okonomiyai Town) is not one but a series of okonomiyaki stalls, all crammed inside one multi-storey building. All serve their okonomiyaki Hiroshima-style (as opposed to Osaka style), but there are variations in their ingredients and cooking process. The stall we ended up at was run by two middle aged ladies, one of whom spent copious amounts of time at the back of the shop, smoking. OH&S? Not in this country! (Kind of nice, actually, compared to the slow shift towards a nanny state back home.) I think I’ll do an okonomiyaki post separately, as there were a LOT of photos and it will clog up proceedings here. Suffice to say they were freaking huge, and Mum was pretty much the only person in the tour group to finish (though I believe she regretted doing so later on).

After dinner, the others went to an entertainment complex (a multi storey building housing a games arcade, bowling alley, karaoke rooms, and various other distractions), but Mum and I – as would become the pattern – bailed in favour of laundry and an early night. It was a good thing, too – they got back very late, and some were very hungover the following morning!

The laundromat down the street was pretty much like laundromats I’ve visited in other countries, with the exception of the piles of monthly manga magazines (mostly Shounen Jump and such – not much on offer for the girls) in the corner.

The next day was supposed to be a free day, but due to the previous day’s rain, a ceremony over on Miyajima (Island – though really, ‘Island’ in this case is as superfluous as the ‘machine’ in ‘ATM machine’ or ‘number’ in ‘PIN number’) had been postponed and would take place tonight. So really it was just a free morning. This dashed my plans to catch the new Oguri Shun movie – there was no way I’d finish and get back in time. We all spilt off in various directions – some to the laundromat (haha, suckers!), others to museums and shrines, Mum to go sketching and me to shop.

We gathered back at the hotel at a bit after 1 p.m., and headed for Miyajima around 2 (tram, then train, then ferry). The first local we met when we arrived at the ferry terminal:

They might look cute, but they had a tendency to chew on anything that stayed still long enough, especially paper goods. One of our tour group had a few bites taken out of his map, and apparently a member of a previous group lost his JR Pass (ouch – those things are expensive), though heaven knows where it had been left for the deer to get to it like that!

I would have liked longer in Miyajima. I hadn’t known is was a group activity, and had initially planned to spend a whole day there. The afternoon we were given wasn’t nearly enough, and it’s definitely on my itinerary for Japan Revisited next year (hopefully!). The main street is very tourist geared, selling fans and chopsticks, geta, t-shirts, kimonos and so forth. There were also momiji manju – tasty little maple-leaf-shaped cakes with various fillings. Mum and I resisted the lure of the box sets (even if we managed not to scoff them, they’d be off by the time we got them back to Sydney), and just bought one each at 80円 a pop. Mine was cream cheese, and I think Mum had custard. In line with the Japanese cultural norm of not walking while eating, they were put in our bags for later.

Our guide took us down to the floating shrine and attempted to shepherd us all in at 300円 a pop. Mum and I took one look at the price, what was on offer and the weekend crowds and went “lolnothanks!!!”. We grabbed some shaved ice (rose flavour was delicious) on the main street, then we headed back to explore the backstreets of the island, which housed shops, galleries and cafes that apparently weren’t frequented by non-Japanese tourists that often (not surprising – most Western tourists seem to stick to the main drags, we’re English and sometimes French or Spanish signage generally accompanies the Japanese).

We found temples and shrines, too, though these seemed to be back on the well-beaten track. Dudn’t make it up the mountain, sadly. Apparently the view was sublime. We really needed more time. Somehow, just before dusk, we managed to stumble in to the floating shrine from the exit end (following a smattering of other tourists). No one was manning the gates and the crowds were gone. The shrine was pretty enough, but I’m glad I didn’t pay for entry, as there really wasn’t much of anything to see (other than the torii gate, which was visible from a lot of ‘free’ areas as well, and a lot of swampy stuff).

We met up with the group at dusk, grabbed some pics of the torii gate at sunset and then headed to a temple up the side of the mountain. Volunteers were helping set up for the evening’s ceremony, and we had to watch where we stepped, as there were tea lights everywhere. The looked great as the sun went down.

There was also a local monk performing some traditional songs up there. He was really good, though I was constantly distracted by the mozzies, who were evidently as hungry as the deer.

After a brief search in ‘town’ for restaurants, we gave up and headed to an izakaya back in outer Hiroshima, near the ferry terminal.

Then it was home to bed.

The next day became our replacement free day. Mum went sketching again, me window shopping. We met up in the afternoon at a cafe that Mum had discovered the day before (cake set! yay!). Then it was back to retail therapy, including the 100円 shop and more clothing and material. Oh, and knitted silk. I’ll let Mum recount that story; I can’t do it justice.

We had a quiet evening, and went to meet a Hiroshima survivor the following morning. He was 80 years old, and quite well versed in conversational English. His memory of the events were still quite clear, and he said he didn’t suffer PTSD like a lot of his compatriots did. It got a little graphic at times (people walking around with skin hanging off and visible muscles, like some sort of living anatomy models), but overall it was simply engaging and very, very sad.

Afterwards, we took a quick look at a photo exhibition on the rebuilding of Hiroshima, and then were hustled off to get our bags and catch the tram back to JR Hiroshima. Next stop: Kyoto via Himeji-jo.

Wow, so it didn’t take much for me to get behind in blogging. Apologies – I tend to come back to the hotel/ryokan/inn/wherever we are on any given day and drop like a rock.

Takayama was a fair hike from Hakone – a train to Nagoya (an hour or so), then another two hour shinkansen trip up the mountains. Thankfully, our ryokan was only about a 10 minute walk from the station. It was also situated – somewhat perturbingly – next to a graveyard. Having said that, the rooms were comfortable, and dinner and breakfast were included. I assume this added cost is why we had to pay for the pleasure of a towel larger than a face washer, and why we were directed by staff to refill our water bottles from the bathroom tap… Hmmm.

The town itself – though a popular (Japanese and foreign) tourist spot, is still fairly old-style. There is also a suggestion bandied around that it is a more authentic version of Kyoto. I guess we’ll analyse that for ourselves once we head up that way.

Sarubobo, as suggested in the title, dominates this place. People tie him (her?) to posts and all over shrines, hang him in the window of their shops, and sell merchandise by the ton (biscuits, glasswear, stuffed toys, coasters – you name it, there’s a good chance there’s a Sarubobo version).

Sarubobo is a good luck charm. The red ones are the most common (the original, I think?), and were meant to bring good luck in marriage and with children. There are also blue (study and work), pink (love), yellow (money) and green (health). Wikipedia reckons there are black ones, but I didn’t come across this in my travels at all.

We took a walk around the old quarter on our first day, and went into an old sake brewery for a taste test (well, I didn’t drink any, but I think Mum did…). Sake is another one of Takayama’s drawcards – there are breweries all over the place. You can get sake jelly and sake slushies, too. I took a sip of the latter, after one of our tourmates took the plunge and bought one, and asked me to back up her suspicions that it tastes like washing up liquid. It did. Didn’t stop a lot of people buying them, though. The heat has persisted here, so the shops are doing a good trade in cold food – ice cream, drinks, shaved ice.

After all the walking around, we jumped at the chance to use the outdoor foot spa outside one of the larger hotels in town. The water was painful at first, but after fifteen minutes, walking home was like padding around on a cloud.

Dinner on the first night was something of an elaborate banquet, with rice, miso, sashimi, vegies, fish, hotpot, tempura and green tea.

Day Two saw us heading for the Hida Folk Village in the morning. The place is, as a lot of previous visitors had warned, a bit of a tourist trap, but interesting in terms of its historical significance. There was a lot of off-and-on-ing with our shoes every time we went into a building, which we soon tired of, and hence settled for poking our heads in. The differences, from a layman’s point of view, were minor anyway.

I somehow found myself helping a Japanese shopkeeper in one of the little tourist shops with translations for poems on cards, after she caught me sounding things out under my breath (oops). I got a free postcard for my troubles, though.

In the afternoon the group split up and headed in various directions. I went to the one and only big electronics stre in town with one of the other girls, who had bought a new camera there the previous day (her old camera has given up the ghost) but found a problem with the shutter and wanted to exchange it for a fully-functional one. I had carelessly lost the lens cap from my new camera somewhere the previous day. Couldn’t remember when or how it had happened, but it was there when we were touring around, and gone when we got back to the ryokan.

We trekked across town in the heat, getting lost a few times along the way, until finally we reached the shop. It was at that point I felt something digging into my side. It was my chopsticks, which were trying to make an escape from my handbag through the lining. Clearly, my world possessions were rebelling! I reached inside to retrieve them before any more damage was done and… there was my lens cap. Dammit. Oh well, nice walk and a few more steps racked up on the pedometer.

Met Mum and another girl from our tour back in the old quarter, and did a bit of shopping. Mum went off to sketch after that, while the rest of us went it search of a taiyaki joint I was sure I’d seen on the way. Ended up lost (again) in the newer part of town, wandered around a bit, and eventually found our fish-shaped cakes. Yum!

Another big dinner that night – tempura and hot pot and rice and miso and vegies and fish. I couldn’t help but think, though, that if they’d cut back on a few dishes, we could have been given use of a proper-sized towel for free… I’ll get over the towel thing one day. No, really.

Another night on the futon, then up at the crack of dawn and back to the station… in the rain. Mmm, wet cargo pants. At least the ryokan staff were able to take our bags in the van. Grabbed a copy of Myojo (pop culture mag) at Takayama station before we jumped on yet another shinkansen and started the five hour journey to Hiroshima.

After a local train (Nikko – Utsuomiya), two shinkansen (Utsunomiya – Tokyo and Tokyo – Odawara) and a bus (Odawara – Hakone), we finally made it to our guesthouse, at which point I promptly crashed with a headache and a churning stomach. じゃあ、しょうがないね。Word on the street is that everyone else went out for dinner.

Yesterday morning we had an early start – 8 a.m. departure to catch a bus back down the mountain (be still, my churning stomach), onto a cable car that took us up another mountain, then onto a ropeway (chairlifts in an enclosed ‘gondola’, as one of the others called it – like the ones at Taronga Zoo), which took as to the summit.

The smell of sulfur was almost overpowering at times, and it sort of reminded me of something out of Lord of the Rings, with all the steam and rock and mist. The main attraction up here are the black eggs (黒玉子) – eggs cooked for an hour in the sulfur, then sold to curious travellers and superstitious folk who believe the ‘seven years longevity’ claim that gets bandied around. I’m sure they make a fortune from the local retirement villages…

After eggs were consumed (by people who were not me – eggs, ugh), there was a quick wander around the souvenir shop and then it was back on the ropeway and down to Lake Ashi (芦ノ湖) for a cruise across to central Hakone (箱根町). It was reasonably enjoyable, despite the cool, cloudy conditions… at least until it started raining. Clearly, the weather gods were not smiling on us.

We disembarked on the far side of the river, wandered up through the cedar forest and then split up for a free afternoon. Mum and I spent the time with Nic (from Perth) and Jen (from Calgary) – first at lunch at a little homestyle restaurant (cheap and tasty fare), then across the road to Narukawa Art Gallery (成川美術館). It was a small collection of Japanese impressionist-style works, located in a building on the side of the mountain, with an amazing view out of the lake. We had coffee and cake in the cafe, as this had the best view in the whole place.

After we finished up there, we headed to what was probably the main even of our day, the Open Air Museum (彫刻美術館). It had an amazing collection of more modern art – including a Picasso Museum – and a number of sculptures, including some Rodin. Arguably the best part was the interactive installation art/kids playground.

It might have said under thirteen, but that didn’t stop a heck of  lot of over thirteens from getting in there and trying it out. Good times were had by all.

There was a fair bit we didn’t get to, thanks to closing time, including a foot spa (which would have been gratefully partaken in, with the amount of walking we’ve been doing lately. Ten thousand steps a day hasn’t been a problem – we’re racking that up by lunchtime most days.

Due to a slight problem with Nic’s Hakone FreePass (it got caught up with the money she gave me for the museum entry, and ended up in my wallet), we missed the last bus back to the ryokan and had to take a taxi. I’m pleased to say that price-wise, they’re on par with Australia. I guess the reports of ‘exorbitantly expensive’ are coming either (a) in comparison to public transport or (b) from Americans, whose taxi fares are significantly cheaper than ours. We split it between four people, so it was only 500円 each, and faster than the bus, too!

That evening we ate out at another tavern-style restaurant. The food was tasty (美味しい！) and the serving sizes very generous. I was still pretty full from lunch, and couldn’t get through all of it.

And there our one and only full day in Hakone. This morning it time to pack up and head off to our next destination – Takayama.

P.S. Mum would like it mentioned that it’s rude to read and not comment. Just sayin’.

Every man and his dog in Nikko (日光) is selling yuba.

Mum took the plunge and ordered it yesterday for lunch, without any idea what it was, or any indication of it’s composition provided by the menu. Nikko might be a tourist town, but it’s a Japanese tourist town, which doesn’t cater for international visitors in the manner that some locations do. Not that I’m complaining – the less English I see, the more I’m forced to use my Japanese knowledge. It’s got to the stage that I’ll often read the Japanese sign before even noticing the English exists. Mum is experiencing a similar phenomenon, except for her it culminates in pushing doors that clearly say “PULL” on them directly underneath “引く”. Oops.

Yesterday morning we headed up to Toshogu (東照宮) – a shrine dedicated to Tokugawa Ieyasu (徳川 家康), the shogun during the start of the 17th century. It’s an interesting place, with a number of shrines within the compound, as well as a gorgeous (if somewhat challenging on the cardiovascular system) hiking trail up through the surrounding mountains. The crowds were fairly epic – though apparently by no means comparable to the weekend and national holiday attendance – with a lot of primary school excursions, and Japanese and Korean tour groups running at the same time we were there.

The main shrine in the central area was ridiculously crowded, sometimes shoulder to shoulder for extended periods, with no possibility to move beyond a slow shuffle forward. After escaping from there, though, viewing some of the smaller buildings was thoroughly enjoyable, with only a smattering of people wandering through and saying a quick prayer.

There was also a horse stable in the grounds. According to our guide, Taiyo, the horses at Toshugu hail from New Zealand. Not sure why they imported them rather than sourcing them locally, but there you go.

Mum and I started the hike sort of by accident. The weather since we arrived in Japan has been quite muggy and warm (it may be autumn on the calendar, but the weather probably won’t cool off properly until the end of the month), and the cool, leafy path up the hill and away from the crowds was like a siren’s song. So we began to climb.

And climb. And climb. And climb. I could feel myself getting short of breath, and the pressure uilding in my ears. I could hear Mum huffing and puffing somewhere behind me. We continued on, up and up and up, till after about 3000 steps (according to my trusty pedometer) we reached the summit. After a brief rest to catch our breaths, it was down, down, down the other side.

For the most part, the track was shaded by huge trees, and the sound of the nearby river and ubiquitous chirping cicadas (セミ) our only soundtrack. Quite a number of  energetic (genki  元気*) seniors in their exercise gear were also out for a daily constitutional – testament to Japanese longevity – and exchanged “konnichiwa”s (こんにちは) with us. Country folk, as reported on expat blogs all over the internet, are far more friendly than their urban counterparts. I guess it’s easier to be so when there’s more of a community feel. Gem’s said similar things about living in Orange.

We reached a small shrine on the way down, after about 20 minutes of walking, and realised that we hadn’t seen any signposts in ages, that it was getting late and that we’d left clothes in the dryer at the ryokan (how very domestic!) which we should probably remove so that other guests could use it. After reaching a path that split into two directions – with nary a sign in sight – Mum prodded me into requesting assistance from one of the aforementioned senior gentlemen, who was consulting his map. Goody, a chance to show off my mad Jap skillz (which are nowhere near as “jouzu!” as Japanese people insist they are).

「あの、すみません。ここはどこですか。」(“Excuse me. Where are we?**”) I asked, proffering my map.

He looked at it, running his fingers over the words (why, oh why has Taiyo given us an English-only map?), then tried to compare it with his own, Japanese map, muttering a bit.

「どこのに行きますか。」(“Where are you going?”) he replied eventually, clearly having given up on actually marrying up the details.

「東照宮です。」(“To Toshogu”) I replied after an embarrassingly long pause. Like most older men, he mumbled quite markedly, and it took quite a while for what he was saying to click.

He stared at his own map for a moment, then suggested we continue along the right-hand path (don’t ask me exactly what he said – I was happy enough to have understood him). Then he proceeded to guide us back himself. This is despite having originally been heading in the other direction. The awesomeness of Japanese people, let me show you it. I’d heard stories of people going out of their way to help you, but it was still a shock to actually experience it.

After about ten minutes of walking – including a period where I thought the gentleman had misunderstood me and we were going somewhere completely different to where we intended – we turned up at the front entrance to Toshogu.

「あー！ありがとうございました！お世話になりました！」(“Thankyou very much! Thankyou for looking after us!”) I babbled, with Mum thanking him in English beside me.

「気を付けてね」(“Look after yourselves”) he replied, and off he went.

After that, we wandered back to the ryokan, rescued our laundry, and headed out for lunch. Japanese people tend to eat earlier than we do – it was nearly three in the afternoon and a lot of places looked like they were wrapping up lunch service. We ended up at Matsubaya, a restaurant high on a hill with a light, airy, spacious dining area (unusual in this part of the world) and a limited English menu. I looked at the Japanese menu, but there weren’t a lot of familiar terms. I ended up going with tempura zaru udon (tempura-ed everything but the kitchen sink – including pumpkin with the skin still attached, and a prawn with half its shell still on – and cold soba with a soy-infused dipping sauce). It was possibly the most expensive meal so far, at 1300円 for me, and 1000円 for Mum, but it was good value, at least infosar as I was concerned.

Mum offered me a taste of her yuba, which was white and wrinkly and generally unidentifiable. I grabbed some with my chopsticks and popped in in my mouth. “Tastes like intestines, doesn’t it?” she said conversationally. “I think it’s intestines.” I stopped mid-chew and tried not to gag.

In the afternoon, we took a wander up the road in search of the bake jizo, but were distracted by the Imperial Villa, which we stumbled upon by chance. It was a fairly unassuming building from the front, but Mum was keen and so in we went.

It was worth it. The villa itself went on and on, opening up in different directions, with wings for servants and visitors, enclosed gardens, a billiards room, sitting rooms, bathrooms, a study. Then there was the garden – beautifully designed, beautifully maintained. All of it was in true, understated Japanese style.

We had dinner at a local tavern that caters for foreign visitors, with its walls covered in foreign money (a few Aussie fives and tenners were spotted), handwritten notes, student cards, drivers licences (expired, I assume) and business cards. It served a variety of standard Japanese dishes (日本料理) – yakitori, yakiudon, yakisoba, gyoza, ramen, mix rice. Half the menu was dedicated to vegetarian dishes. Yay! I’m usually fairly safe in Japan, with the strong seafood-eating culture, but menus are sometimes heavy on the meat and low on anything else, and after a failed attempt to eat chicken on the flight over, other options were more than welcome.

On our second and last day in Nikko, Mum and I made our second attempt to find the bake jizo. This time we had more success. Total success, in fact. They turbed out to be a few minutes walk from the ryokan, though we entered the walking track from the other end, which was about 40 minutes walk up the main road through Nikko.

Once again, a beautiful, leafy walking track with dappled sun peeking through in places. I’m sure when the leaves start to turn in a few weeks, it will start to look spectacular. Anyone willing to make a return trip with me for autumn?

The bake jizo are statues that line the banks of the river. Apparently, their snappy dressing is the work of local monks.

After dropping in for a little while at the ryokan, we headed back down toward to central Nikko to take a look at the shops. Sadly, it was a disappointment. Tourist-geared by run down, they were a bit of a sad sight. We heard later from someone in our tour group that there was better shopping to be had up in the mountains, near the waterfall. We know for next time.

It was time to head off to the train station, so we high-tailed it to the ryokan, grabbed our luggage, jumped in a taxi, and went back to JR Nikko station. Next stop: Hakone.

*  Genki does not strictly mean energetic, but it is the word the Japanese would use in this situation. There isn’t a direct translation into English – it’s sort of a mix of energetic, healthy, happy and a few other things that aren’t coming to mind at this late hour.

**  Not a direct translation – that would be more like “Here is where?”. Consider it an insight into Engrish – that’s pretty much the direct result of using English words with a Japanese grammatical structure.

… but have only got access to the internet properly in the last 12 hours or so. Hence, posts are in the works, and will hopefully be ready to publish after dinner sometime.

お待たせしました。