Run Me Like a River

In the age of the shinkansen, it's easy to forget how isolated parts of Japan once were.  While it's not a big country in terms of landmass, mountains are an obstacle in traveling from one area to another.   You can get an idea of this even today if you travel between Arashiyama and Kameoka.  Mind you, this is something I'd never done before, because it's kind of a pain in the ass.  It sounds cool to take the "romantic" train to Kameoka and come back via boat along the river, and that's exactly what makes it a pain in the ass.  If you love tourists like I love tourists (ie, not at all, except in the old adage that the opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference), this little experience is a nightmare.  

You can't just walk up to the station, buy a ticket, and board a train...I tried that once years ago with zero success (although I did find this cool little doll workshop that gave me Ideas, and Arashiyama is never a waste of time in my mind).  You have to get a ticket for THIS particular train in advance, and we're talking like well in advance.  No chance of, "Hmm, maybe tomorrow I'll take the sightseeing train to Kameoka."  On the other hand, the boat back doesn't really have a reliable advance booking.  I mean, they had something, because some people had some kind of voucher they were exchanging for a ticket, but on the websites that I read everything said you just showed up at the dock with your fingers crossed.  Given all this and the overabundance of capital-t Tourists, you may wonder if it's even worth it?

Well, maybe it's because something tells me it's going to be many moons before I make it back to Kyoto, but this time around I finally did it.  When I hadn't heard back from Ando about their doll-dressing experience, my mind turned to other things I could do, and realized that this would be an excellent chance to try something new.  Now that was a couple of weeks before I'd gotten sunburnt wandering around the flea market in the harsh morning sunlight, but when I got to Arashiyama and realized it was going to be a bright, bright sunshiny day on the Hozugawa, I scrounged around through my memory long enough to come up with the words for sun and protect...even if I got the order wrong, saying "mamoru no hi" and pointing to my arm got the message across at the Lawson's I stopped in, and I continued on my way to the train station.

The train ride really was beautiful.  When you're not going through a tunnel - and there were a lot, but their eerie beauty doesn't really lend itself well to photos - you're skirting the edge of the hills above the river.  Gold was beginning to tinge the green of the trees, and although it's supposed to be even more beautiful in November I can't really do anything about when my vacation is.  Instead, I watched the river rush by outside the windows, trying to take shots when the trees weren't whipping by in front of me.

Oh, one more thing to add...those seats are about as comfy as the dinner table chairs at your great-great grandmother's house...and don't have a lot of room for extra padding, just FYI.  Still, it does help you to get a feel for the historic nature of the train.  I guess.

I hadn't given a lot of thought to getting from Torokko Kameoka station to the dock where you embark on the river cruise - I had it marked on Google maps, so if all else failed, I figured I could walk it.  Fortunately for my already abused feet, it didn't come to that - as you exit the station, there are signs pointing to a bus that will take you straight to the dock.  One of the things that struck me the hardest from my first trip to Japan back in 2005 was how easy it is to get around, in spite of not knowing the language, and it holds true to this day.  The Japanese really know how to make systems that move people smoothly and efficiently, and this is a saving grace when it comes to shit tons of tourists being around.  So I got on the bus, got off at the dock, got a numbered ticket, and within probably half an hour was being called down to board a boat.

These boats are the old fashioned kind that used to ply the river - shallow bottomed and steered by long bamboo poles.  There were three guides in each boat that rotated between the three positions over the course of the two-hour trip - it was clearly really hard work, and I felt kind of bad about just sitting there enjoying the afternoon while they were rowing.

Okay, I wasn't just sitting there.  There was a lot to look at.  We saw ducks, turtles, herons, cormorants - even a snake on a rock at the side of the river just a foot away from my face.  The mountains we passed between were tall and imposing.  It was also interesting to me to see how the forest changes from area to area - some packed densely with shorter trees, others filled with tall ones.  There was at least one slope that had numerous trees toppled and sitting as logs on the hillside...evidence of a recent typhoon, if my experience hiking up to Kuuya-no-taki back in 2018 is any indication.  

I do wonder, sometimes, what non-artists do on long trips like this by themselves.  I was busy watching the water - especially the way it flowed over rocks, thinking about how I would paint that - and enjoying the fresh air, occasionally listening to my seatmates who would interpret some tidbit the guide shared.  But I'm kind of used to being alone in my own head, finding interest for myself in what's going on around me.  Maybe that's why I can travel alone.  Good thing I wasn't an extrovert from birth.

That is not to say that the trip was serene, smooth...er...sailing, all the way.  There were rapids.  Not bad ones, necessarily, but there was a splash guard along the sides of the boat that we lifted up from time to time to keep the water from dousing us.  The lead guide used his pole to push us along and away from some of the bigger rocks, especially in narrower passages.  It reminded me of float trips with my Dad and Shaggy when I was a kid, and with other family members when I was a bit older.  Except that after capsizing our canoe three times on one memorable trip with my sister and cousin, I'm not allowed to guide anymore.

It was also fun to see the trains pass us by.  The romantic train isn't the only one that goes between Arashiyama and Kameoka...if you really want to take the boat but can't get tickets, it IS possible just to take a normal train.  It just isn't as pretty.  There are apparently also buses - I didn't look too deeply into this possibility, because I didn't care.  But I love trains and I enjoyed seeing them flash by us as we got nearer and nearer to Arashiyama.

When we were just about there, a floating "food truck" puttered over next to us, providing snacks and lightening our wallets (literally...in Mongolia you kind of forget how heavy coins can be, and Japan's change goes all the way up to 500 yen).  After two hours I was ready to kill for a coke, and they had icy cold cans of it.  I don't even remember how much I paid.  It might have been 300 yen, but it might have been 1000.  I was thirsty enough that I didn't actually care.

The river had other boats on it by that point, people out for a paddle, so it was easy to know that we were almost there.  My back at least was glad it was over.  This trip made me realize that I'm not the same age I was when I first came to Kyoto - I can't abuse my feet all day, or sit two hours with back support, and not pay the consequences.  It's kind of sad, but I guess it was inevitable that eventually my body would remind me I'm no longer in my 20s.  But with a cold can of coke in hand, I was ready to abuse myself at least a little more.  If I hadn't had a rendezvous that afternoon with the Kawaii Kingpin, there were still so many things I would have liked to do in Arashiyama...mossy shrines and haunted tunnels.  But I guess they'll probably still be there when I finally do make it back again.

Row, Row, Row Your Boat

This is a gondola.

Silly Venetians.  Boats go in water, not in a palazzo!

Part of the picture people have of a romantic trip to Venice involves a gondola ride.  If you are part of the many couples in this city who have been making me want to vomit by sucking face all over the freaking place, you may want a gondolier (boat rower) who can sing to set the mood, or perhaps have an accordian player along for the ride.  If you are one of my fellow single ladies, you might prefer a smoking hot one with some sexy guns from "rowing his boat" all day (namsayin'?).  But here's the thing about a gondola ride: it costs 80 euro for the first 40 minutes, and 40 euro for each 20 minutes after that.  If you want to do this in the evening (ie, the time of day when you are NOT covered in grotesque amounts of sweat), well, it goes up to 100/50 after 7 pm.

If you are smart but you care enough about the bragging rights of saying you've ridden a gondola, you can do what I did in my poor, broke college days and take the traghetto across the Grand Canal.  That only costs 4 euro (now...like everything else, it was much cheaper in 2001), and doesn't involve all five hundred bazillion tourists taking photos of you and your love bunny playing tonsil hockey because it makes a good photo.  It also only lasts a couple of minutes - the traghetto is basically a quick way to ferry across the Grand Canal, and is cheaper than the vaporetto (water bus).

Now.  If you are no longer a poor broke college student, and would end up being by yourself in the damn boat (and thus, probably reading, which means really a waste of money and possibly making yourself motion-sick), and furthermore, have run out of penis festivals and temples of erotica to visit, thus shifting your raison d'voyage to having some kick-ass learning experiences, then Row Venice might be for you.  For the 80 euro you would have spent for 40 minutes riding, you can get 90 minutes of instruction on how to row yourself.

I think I came across them on TripAdvisor, and immediately I signed up to take a course.  It sounded like a lot of hot, sweaty fun (pretty much every kind of fun there is to have in Venice is hot and sweaty, come summer).  I've paddled a canoe a time or two, and although I don't have the greatest track record of staying afloat (ask Babysis and she'll tell you), their website talked about the boats that they use: batellini coda di gambero.  It's a slightly different design from the better known gondola,  a design that is flat-bottomed and thus, a LOT harder to flip...or to fall in from.

I met Nan, my teacher, near the marina, where she helped me in and showed me the basics.  They seemed pretty...well, basic.  Then I got to start trying, and oh my freaking sweet Hell, it was a lot harder than they make it look.  It was easier on the body than paddling a canoe - I guess the oar lock helps your body do the work, and the motion is a lot like walking, or it's supposed to be...I never quite got it right, and my oar kept popping out.  Which brings me to how it's harder than canoeing.  I don't know why I couldn't figure it out.  Possibly because - contrary to how graceful I ALWAYS seem, haha - I am not a very coordinated person, and your body does a lot of different things when you voga properly.  There's the weight shifting back and forth, while not going up and down, but your knees are bent softly, twisting your wrists, pushing the oar FROM THE TOP, pulling it back, keep it flat!  So many different things going on at the same time, and while it's something you just have to do and practice, I'm a visual learner, and you can't see all that, so I followed Nan's commands not to look at the oar, and I didn't fall out or drop my oar, which given my track record is success.

The sweat absolutely rolled down my face.  It was hot, but it wasn't as hard work as I was expecting it to be, and it was as much fun as I was expecting.  I'm not sure if I'd do it again, but I'm really glad I tried it.

Shenanigans, Part Deux: Bazaars and the Bosphorus

Day two began on nearly as high a note for us as day one.  I didn't think the spice market was going to be a huge draw for our kids, but I needed to buy us tickets for the Bosphorus cruise and it gave them something to do in the meantime.  Something that, as it turns out, they really enjoyed.  They hit the ground running as far as shopping goes, and were still going up until we boarded our plane to come back to Mongolia.  I told them all to be sure to try the Turkish delight, and plenty of boxes found their way into backpacks before we set out - far too soon for their tastes! - for our Bosphorus cruise.

Several of the kids asked me about going to the beach before we set out, and I had to tell them we'd be on the water a bit, but it would be too cold to swim.  Most of them are Mongolian, and if you haven't figured it out, we're a landlocked country, so it was pretty cool to be out in a boat.  For most of the trip up to Anadolu Kavagi they were out on deck, taking in the fresh air and lots of selfies with the new selfie sticks it seemed like half of them bought in front of the spice market.  When we pulled into the final dock, it was sprinkling, and Time Lady and I were worried about the hike we were supposed to take up to Yoros Castle, but the weather held and nobody melted.

In my prior incarnation as a hopeless wanderer in Istanbul I didn't take the trip up the Bosphorus...too many other things to see.  This go-round we had more time, and I thought it would be cool for us to see a real fortress, and luckily Lonely Planet was wrong for once - we actually got to go in and see the Black Sea from the wall.  Which is a good thing, because it would have been a helluva hike to go up just to turn around and go back.  We'd just got back down to the village when the rain started in earnest, at which point we jumped on the boat and went back to Istanbul proper for yet more shopping.

The Grand Bazaar was one of my favorite places in Istanbul the first time.  I must have spent five hours wandering the place back then (in part to find a metal belly dance bra that Belynda later told me would just look like pasties on me - le sigh).  We didn't give the kids nearly that much time - an hour and a half later we were leaving, our bags stuffed with even more goodies.  Mostly this was because I'd scheduled an art workshop for us at 7 that night, and since the awesome folks at Les Arts Turcs were kind enough to accommodate our late schedule, I didn't want to keep them waiting.  However, I think it took a load off Time Lady's mind that she'd only have to worry about someone getting lost for an hour and a half - she was quite concerned, given the size of the Grand Bazaar and the number of people who visit there each day.  I tried to encourage the students with a good sense of direction to go with her, but I think in the end I lucked out - I got my tenth grade Mongolian boys (one of whom I would have trusted to lead us around, if he weren't underage) as well as a few others, and we had a pretty damn good time, ending up at a damn good doner shop while waiting for the other group (did I let my kids swear a little on this trip?  Fuck yeah, because they were definitely going to hear me doing it by the time it was over!  Vacations and weekends are fair game, in my book, although this is probably to my detriment since now that we're back at school they're using "I'm not used to not swearing" as an excuse to drop bombs in art class...)

We finally all got back together and made our way to Les Arts Turcs (which was down the hill from the main gate of Topkapi Palace, not behind the Basilica Cistern like I thought).  We worked really hard raising money for the trip with our weekly coffee shop, and I decided that rather than give it to them as spending money (which they had plenty of!) we'd use the money on some experiences they couldn't have anywhere else.  When I contacted Les Arts Turcs, not only did they arrange to do our workshop around our schedule (which was day-heavy), they gave us a great price.  At first, we were all kind of worn out, but after everyone (except the Mormon) drank some Turkish tea we perked up and got into a creative mindset.  We made our tiles using traditional designs, methods, and colors, and they were ready for us to pick up Friday morning before we left (which provided me with an excellent opportunity to come back and buy their marbled paper supplies, which they taught me to use at no extra charge!)  When we went to the Blue Mosque the next day, I made sure to point out all the tiles decorating the building and remind them how long it took all of us just to make one of them, and I think that helped them appreciate its beauty even more.

Harbor Town

One thing that Hong Kong bests pretty much all comers in is a stunning skyline.  My first evening there I pretty much did nothing but stroll along the Kowloon promenade and admire the island from afar, watching the day turn into night.  (And, okay, look - unsuccessfully - for a Starbucks.)

I don't know whether or not it has anything to do with coming from way the hell in the middle of the US, thousands of miles from a coastline, but watching the water is fascinating to me.  Unfortunately I haven't lived that many places that have a good waterfront.  Bahrain and Ras Al Khaimah each had a corniche, but I never spent much time on either (although the Hilton beach resort in RAK was fantastic). 

The promenade in Kowloon (which includes the "Walk of Stars," which, again, didn't impress me that much), was bustling, and made for some great people watching.  I found that the wall behind the Hong Kong Museum of Art was just the right height to sit on and had a non-stop breeze blowing through, which I desperately needed on that first night.

On my second full day I found my way to the Star Ferry pier and bought a ticket to the Hong Kong side.  The Star Ferry has been running across the harbor since 1888 and is number one on the "Top Ten Most Exciting Ferry Rides" list as published by the Society of American Travel Writers. 

I am an American and I write about travel, but I have no idea by what criteria they were judging.  While my trip to Hong Kong and back on Star Ferry was comfortable and pleasant, I wouldn't call it exciting.  (If you want an exciting adventure, I suggest the ferry from Aqaba, Jordan to Nuweiba, Egypt.  Hoo, buddy, that's one that will stick with you for years!)

My last night in Hong Kong I went on another boat - the Grey Line harbor cruise.  I had to make my way to the other end of the Kowloon waterfront, to Hung Hom pier.  It was around 7:20 when I got there for my7:45 boarding (better early than late), and although the sun had set everything had a bluish sort of glowing quality.  I had to laugh a little at the guys fishing, in spite of the "No Fishing from Pier" signs, and had to wonder about what they were hoping to catch.  I'm sure the water is clean and the fish are healthy, but then again, I always find water in China sketchy, and in spite of the fact that it's open to the ocean, there are a LOT of people in Hong Kong.

The harbor cruise made me wonder what those cruises my family goes on are like.  The main cabin was a big room with a buffet at one end and a Filipino band (I think - aren't all cover bands in places like this Filipino?) at the other, and tons of tables scattered in between.  The food was fairly bland and involved a lot of seafood, so mostly I just ate fruit and marshmallows dipped in the chocolate fountain.  The band accompanied the "Symphony of Lights" performance, which is supposedly a big deal in the world of light shows, the world's largest, but since this is the first light show I've ever been to...no, I've never been to a light show.  Not at the Pyramids.  Not at Petra.  I watched the sparklies on the Eiffel Tower for a few minutes, but I was far away at the top of the hill in Belleville, so I don't suppose that counts.  So I didn't know what to expect.

I might not have known, but I'd hoped for fireworks.  I'd seen pictures with fireworks being shot off the sides of the buildings, and that looked cool as shit, but there weren't any fireworks last week, and this has left a bad taste in my mouth for light shows as well as cruises.  The light show was kind of neat, but it's hard to work up that much enthusiasm when nobody's blowing anything up.