Japan Journal

Tokyo, Japan – March 2004
What a place, Shinjuku  pulsates with life and everyone looks young and trendy. Our first night, after a collapsed snooze, we ventured into a noodle bar and ordered seaweed, noodles, bean sprouts and lotus root in a chilli sauce. It was amusing to see our 5-year-old son Joseph’s look of disbelief when confronted with this alien dish. We walked on, taking in the sights and sounds of the vibrant nightlife around us. We too are being studied but not overtly, when my eyes met with someone else’s, their gaze abruptly altered course.
People are courteous, no-one is intimidating, not even the black bouncers at the doors of some shady looking bars who talk pleasantly to Joseph. Not that he cared much for the attention he was getting.
Sleep is difficult for Lynne and I .We are both awake by around 3am with the effects of jet lag and pure excitement, so we talk, make love and then have a fine breakfast of Japanese sweet delicacies and green tea. Joseph slumbers on. Later we go out and marvel at a rain drenched Tokyo from the 45^th floor of a government building. We visit McDonalds for french fries, milk shakes and apple pies.
Aboard a train, we got very confused about finding our carriage and ended up in what appeared to be a  private first class compartment. After a while a guard politely knocked before entering. I babbled explanations at him in English. He helped carry our bags to a more humble carriage without a word of criticism.

Fujiya hotel, Hakone national park
Hakone national park is a panorama of spectacular scenery. We were treated to occasional views of the Pacific to our left and mountain vistas to our right as the train made its way past tightly crammed houses with washing drying on the balconies and orange trees in the gardens.
From the train station we took a short bus ride to our hotel lurching speedily up the mountain roads. Some passengers gave whoops of delight as they were swung from side to side as if on some kind of roller coaster ride.
I asked a young man where our stop for the Fujiya Hotel might be but he didn't know and he'd been avoiding my eyes for a while, obviously hoping that this foreigner wouldn’t pick on him. Then I spotted it: FUJIYA HOTEL and I asked my unwilling ‘guide’ if I should press the bell beside me to get the bus to stop. He says yes and the bus grinds to a halt.

Mount Myojogatake
Our mountain trek took us past a Buddhist cemetery with sculptures, prayer tablets and headstones with beautifully carved designs. There was a small separate Catholic area nearby. We looked up at our mountain and spotted the Kanji symbol carved into the grass where a fire is lit annually to mark a celebration each August. We are not sure which way to go so we ask a man who is passing. The language barrier is absolute so we babble away in English anyway and point anxiously at our map and point up at our mountain. He of course responds in Japanese and we laugh at our dilemma and walk along together.
Before long there is a village conference as we reach the grocer shop that we had passed earlier. Other people passed by and joined in.
Eventually a young woman directed us in perfect English.
Across the valley we could see the rising sulphurous fumes in the Hakone national park. Shortly after, we stopped in sheer amazement as the snow covered crown of Mount Fuji came into view in the distance, rising majestically through the  clouds. The mountain trail rose steeply with dense thickets of bamboo on either side and an occasional shrine, one encased in a plastic milk crate. We make an offering anyway, wish/pray, clap and bow. The place is eerily  quiet. The man from the village had started the mountain trek with us but had now disappeared. I imagined him as a bodhisattva, denying his place in Nirvana to help foolish foreigners up mountains.
Further on up the mountain we pass other walkers, all Japanese and coming from the opposite direction. We try out our recently learned greeting: "connichi  wa" and we are heartily greeted back with the same along with beaming smiles. Shortly after, the man from the village passes by and we ‘chat’ happily for a while, both in our respective languages.
We continue up to the summit, a dry and dusty flat top with wispy trails of steam rising up in areas. The way ahead is now clear from this vantage point. A trail through many more miles of dense bamboo stretching for miles across the mountain top.  Eventually we reached a marker which gave an estimated time of 40 minutes down to the village.
Back in the hotel room, Joseph goes to bed, Lynne goes for a hot bath and I have a full body massage and we settle for a better night’s sleep.

Odaware
We said our goodbyes to the American receptionist Patrick who gave Joseph a pack of Fujiya Hotel playing cards. After a short taxi ride we boarded the mountain railway train for Odaware where we put our baggage in lockers and got in a taxi.  I pointed excitedly to the coastline on the map and mouthed "umi" to try to make the driver understand that we wanted to see the coast. The bewildered man shrugged and drove us to the docks. Ok, so we could have been more selective I suppose but the Pacific is awesome all the same and we stopped on the gravel beach awhile to admire the power of the waves crashing in.

Nara
The shinkansen to Kyoto picked up speed quickly. This unnerved me a bit at first but I settled in to it and was soon dozing in and out of consciousness like everybody else. Traveling is like that, everywhere, rituals, routines, faces, passing glances, changing landscapes,…but more than anything, the relentless monotony which makes me tired and trains are the worst.
Tired as we were though, by 1.30am there’s the by now familiar call; "are you awake?"
The sun is shining and its Joseph’s 6^th birthday and he excitedly searches around his bed for the few presents we had managed to pack.
We got a taxi to Dreamland on the outskirts of Nara. There was a bouncy castle, a roundabout with circular carriages which you sat in and span upside down as you went round. A jungle boat trip with mechanized animals and tribesmen for which we had to queue for about an hour. .
We didn’t know about the ticket system on the first ride and the man settled for the amount that I thought it was and put in his hand. It was probably easier than arguing with someone who didn't speak the same language.        
We had a lunch of french fries, popcorn and miron soda, but only after a kind young Japanese family had given us instruction over which tickets to get from the machine before handing them over to the staff.
I had pointed out Mount Kasuga on my map to the taxi driver who took one look at the rain, deliberated a while and quoted a figure of 10,000 yen. This seemed like a lot of money. However, the rain was persistent and we decided that it really wasn’t the weather for walking a mountain. Instead, we took a trip to the deer park on the outskirts of Nara. In spite of the rain, the surrounding park was beautiful and we spent some time walking around, suitably covered in waterproofs, admiring the deer and the abundance of cherry blossom.
The temple grounds were awesome, busy as the place was with crowds of people, many of them Japanese, under a sea of umbrellas. The sweet aroma of Incense drifted through the air.
I hadn’t anticipated the overwhelming sense of awe as I approached the interior of the temple. The giant Buddha emanated compassion and I could do nothing but stand respectfully before it in wonder and adoration. I bowed in genuine reverence and for once didn't  feel self-conscious doing so.
After eating a packed lunch under cover in the temple grounds, then feeding the delightful deer, we boarded a train for Kyoto.

Kyoto
If there was anywhere to experience the unique contradiction of traditional and modern day Japan, I thought, It’ll be here. We also got a different taste of the Japanese experience by staying in a ryokan. We met our hostess at the door who ushered us in and waited patiently for us whilst we put on the house slippers.
Our room had mats, rice paper screens on the sliding partition, a low table, floor cushions with backrests and a small shrine displaying fresh flowers.
Sleeping, ryokan style is a bit like camping. No matter how many layers you put between you and the floor mats there’s still a characteristic ache in the back and hips.
Our hostess came in every morning to fold away the futons, pillows and duvets into the cupboard area and bring a delicious mixture of Japanese food for breakfast. The food was varied and delicious, always with rice. Joseph declined the more unusual foods and took to eating rice with chopsticks.
I developed a taste for the seaweed sheets and wasabi, a Japanese horseradish condiment  with a tendency to shock the  palate with its pungency. 

We visited another great temple site on the outskirts of the town.  Everywhere was a delight to the senses with the abundance of cherry blossom softening the borders of the brightly painted temple buildings, the occasional glimpse of a geisha shuffling off to an appointment.
There was the gentle sound of the water features, the smell of cooked food as we approached the town, the spontaneous smile from a woman that seemed to acknowledge the sense that here, for this moment at least, all was well in the world.
The next day we wandered the grid system roads of Kyoto dodging the cyclists, many with mobile phone to their ears as they whizzed by. My quest to see authentic Japanese shibori was realised in a museum where the proprietor talked passionately about the process, materials and products. There were stunning examples and at last I could fully appreciate the skill and the laborious dedication to a dying art which yields such beautifully patterned and shaped  textiles. The older man played a game of tug’o’war with Joseph using an old length of exquisitely tied silk. The ties fall apart and the fabric unraveled revealing characteristic patterning as Joseph got pulled across the polished floor.
Later, the strangeness of it all hit me again as our taxi took us through Kyoto, and I knew how truly fortunate I was to be spending time in a country such as this.
The indigo dyer was an intense man,  there was a look in his eyes as he spoke carefully but passionately about his art. He invited us to different parts of his house, stopping occasionally to show us examples of his work and his indigo vats. He listened patiently to my questions and talked enthusiastically about his work and his dedication to the use of natural indigo. I loved what I saw.
A brief meeting, so much more to discuss but no time now, got to go  traveling further north and then back home, thousands of miles away so no time now. Life’s like that and maybe these brief shining mind meetings are all the more special for their briefness, the longing to learn more. I admire the  man. We take a taxi ride and the driver speaks very good English and asks us how we like Japan. He points out some of the sights to us on our way to the  station. Kyoto station is incredible, a beautiful building in its own right, absolutely full of people coming and going.
We catch the bullet train to Nagoya and then dash to the next train within our allocated seven minutes. The wide view train to Takayama allowed us to fully appreciate the changing scenery as the train passed through deeply cut river gorges and big forested mountains, some with snow atop.

Takayama
The minshuku in the hills where we are to stay for the next three nights doesn’t provide the warmest welcome we’ve had. It's a different set up here, a Japanese guesthouse where there are communal meals & baths.
The evening meal consisted of a variety of foodstuffs including strange looking seafood. Things didn't improve when I noticed the Japanese couple to our left sucking out the innards and discarding the skin from one of these strange creatures. I begin to long for a hotel but began to feel a little better by the time we’d been for a walk, bought ice cream, cakes and other provisions.  Back at the minshuku, Joseph and I went off to the single sex onzen. It  was here that we met Donald from Hong Kong who was curious as to how we had found this place and how we got by with the obvious language problem. He was staying in Takayama with his Japanese friend.
By the next day we had the place to ourselves and enjoyed a quiet, peaceful time there.
The snow capped peaks of the Japan alps are clearly visible from the hill as we walk into town.
There are all kinds of shops, some obviously aimed at tourists but the place is like a ghost town. We discovered later that it was the Buddha’s birthday. We bought a Japanese teapot and green tea and spent some time in the shop. The owner had twice been to London and spoke very good English. We sampled tea and discussed green tea and mountains.
Later we spent some time high up in some temple grounds There was a deep monotonous chant emanating from the temple. We had a clear view over Takayama to the snow covered alps in the distance and there was a sharp coldness in the air in spite of the sun.
Back at the minshuku I again visit the onzen and have the hottest bath of my life. The heat stings my skin but is followed by a curious tingling sense of well  being. We sleep well but I’m still awake before the alarm clock. Today is warmer and we pack our rucksacks in readiness for a mountain walk. First we go into town to cash some travellers cheques, buy provisions and visit the tourist information for advice.
We had enquired about getting a bus to Mount Norikura but the road there was blocked with snow. I suppose this should have given us an indication of what to expect. "Its too early for hiking in the mountains" said the lady in the tourist information office. We however, knew best.
The hour long bus journey took us up winding roads and we saw a different side to Japan. There were paddy fields and green tea shrubs everywhere and the people we saw tending their crops wore pilgrim hats and peasant farmer clothes.
When we arrived at the terminal there was a huge snow pile in the centre of the car park looking like a huge volcano. The mountains close up were stunning, huge, heavily forested and covered in snow. A nearby sign told us that the temperature was 14C. By the time we 'd walked awhile it felt much hotter. The area was criss-crossed with roads, many of them disappearing into mountain tunnels. The scenery was stunning but it became clear that there were no routes open anywhere. Everywhere was covered in deep snow. A waterfall ahead had carved a 6’ wall of snow on either side of it.
After lunch, Joseph and I built a snow Buddha on a huge boulder.

Back in Takayama we found a tiny French restaurant and an oriental couple sitting nearby treated Joseph to a present of Japanese cakes. Before leaving the following day we caught a bus to the Hida folk village. I got involved in a conversation with a German family. The eldest lady was curious when I referred to myself as English. "I thought you’re kingdom was united" came her response. 
I remembered the tea shop man telling me about the medicinal virtues of green tea and thought I might try it for the stomach discomfort I was experiencing. When a slimy thick broth of green tea arrived I took a deep breath and swallowed the whole lot down in one go. It worked.

Nagoya – Easter Sunday
This place is a transport hub for people travelling between Tokyo and Kyoto and beyond, or, in our case, from the north back to the capital. It’s fairly unimpressive in comparison to its more prosperous neighbours. The homeless people living in boxes around the station showed another side to Japan that we hadn’t seen anywhere else, or which had been kept discretely hidden from view.
Joseph played on the swings in a park lined with roughly built shacks. At one end of the park, a group of young, smartly dressed business people sat to eat lunch. Two men outside of their shacks arranged an assortment of second-hand toys and one came over and gave Joseph a soft toy.
Our time in Nagoya was short and we caught the Shinkansen  to Tokyo. It arrived with pinpoint accuracy and picked up speed rapidly.
We enjoyed views of the pacific coast to our right and again  travelled through the Hakone national park where we were treated to a stunning view of Mount Fuji, a worthy symbol of Japan for sure.
We then caught the Narita express to our hotel, just one of many in a landscape dominated by hotels serving the airport. A poignant reminder that tomorrow we go home.