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.

The Morning Commute

In all my life as an expat, I've never had to take public transportation to get to work.  The only time I've been more than a short walk away from my school was when I lived in the Emirates.  Back then, I'd either rely on taxis (because I could afford to) or bum rides from the other denizens of the Sunrise building.  That all changed about a month ago when my current employers moved us all to a shiny new, purpose built school.  I'm still not entirely sure it's a good trade.  On one hand, the air doesn't make me feel sick and there are tons of good restaurants to try out.  On the other hand, I have to be exposed to the public before 8 a.m., and that almost never turns out well...

It turns out that, as much as I claim to love public transportation, what I actually love is my freedom.  I love being able to go anywhere, anytime that I want, and not have to drive myself.  But when that turns into a daily forced migration, for which I must wake up when my alarm goes off (rather than ignoring it for an hour), public transit loses most of its charm.

This post actually began long before we moved, back when I went to that mokuhanga workshop. At the time, I was impressed by the fact that Tokyo commuters could all be dressed up in business suits and not spouting waterfalls of sweat off their jam-packed bodies, or that the women on the train were actually wearing make-up and it wasn't melting off their faces in a sheet.  Also with the fact that they commute on a daily basis without killing anyone.  Let me tell you, there is nothing like being crammed into a train car with a shitload of strangers to bring out your aggressively antisocial side.

Now, it was originally my plan to take one bus from my neighborhood all the way to Yokohama Station.  That first morning - which dawned way too bright and way too fricking early - I found myself puzzled that Google Maps was instructing me to walk from Higashi-Kanagawa Station instead.  Well, when I started looking at the bus stop sign, I discovered that my bus didn't go all the way to Yokohama for another hour and a half.  So I ended up taking the train the rest of the way.  My feet just were not up to a walk from Higashi-Kanagawa.

The next morning I took a different bus, one which stopped closer to my apartment.  I figured if I had to take the train anyways, I might as well make the bus part as convenient for myself as possible.  And then then bus showed up, already jam-packed with commuters.  Two stops after I got on, the driver started letting people in through the back door,* since there was no more room for people at the front.

As it turns out, I'm not cut out to spend even ten minutes each morning with the sweaty bodies of strangers pressed up against my various parts.  It brings out my impulses to smack people with my umbrella, fan, or hell, just to plant my elbow in the crotch of the individual who keeps bumping against my shoulder (with extreme prejudice).  Since I decided it would probably be a bad idea to get in a fight on the bus, I decided to go with the original bus, the one that wasn't crowded.

And that is the way things progressed for the first three weeks at the new school.  Maybe I had to reward myself with McDonald's for breakfast most mornings for making it in one piece and still letting people live.  I'd pretty much worked out the best route to go - the bus where I'd have a seat, the train with the easiest walk from the bus stop - but it really didn't matter.  I am not cut out to be a commuter.

And then Golden week came and went, and sometime during those days of freedom I got it into my head that I should walk to the nearest train station.  I needed the exercise after spending most of the previous month eating McMuffins for breakfast.

So about a week ago I started walking.  It takes me about a half hour, but it's flat the whole way, and at least half of my walk is by the stream that runs through the 'hood.  If I feel like as much of a zombie as my fellow commuters appear, well, that's only to be expected.  But I still feel like maybe a bit of an apology is in order.  Fellow commuters, I am so sorry.  If you hear me growl or hiss, or possible construct sentences strung entirely together with f-bombs, please understand that it isn't personal.  I hate literally everyone in the mornings right now.  Half the time I haven't even had my morning coke when you are seeing me bare my fangs.  I applaud you for the fortitude that it must take to deal with this day after day, stretching into years.  Personally, I'm just counting down the days til I'm back in Mongolia, where I can make it from the door of my apartment to the door of my classroom in two minutes or less.

*In Kanto, you enter the front of the bus, and pay when you get on.  In other parts of Japan, you get on through the back, and pay when you get off.

Forest Bathing

Not so long ago, the Interwebs taught me that the Japanese had apparently come up with a concept called shinrin yoku - forest bathing.  The idea is that it's therapeutic to get out in nature and smell fresh air and walk on unpaved ground and all that good stuff.  This weekend I had the opportunity to do exactly that.  See, this post is brought to you by my photography class.  I'll be writing about THAT particular endeavor in the near future; for now, suffice it to say that I got it into my head that one of my photos should be staged in Aokigahara - Japan's infamous suicide forest.

Now, I'd be lying to you if I claimed that the Sea of Trees - as it is known in Japanese - held no dark fascination for me.  Y'all know me better than that.  However, I hesitated to go there, even before some American jackass made a fool out of himself on Youtube by posting the video showing him finding a dead body there.  Because actually, that was exactly what made me hesitant.  I feel like I'm made of pretty stern stuff, and the possibility of spiritual remains doesn't phase me.  Physical remains, on the other hand, would have to be dealt with, and I wasn't sure I was ready for that.  That said, I knew in my head that I was unlikely to actually find anyone, which means I just needed a good excuse to me get out of the city.  Such as my photography course.

And the more I learned about the forest, the more interested I was in going.  It grows on a bed of lava that hardened after Fuji-san blew its top in 864 CE.  Since the ground is impenetrable, the trees' roots snake along the surface.  The trees grow close together, so it's cool and shady, and moss clings to many surfaces.  There are even special kinds of plants that grow there, although unfortunately I missed getting to see the white plants that grow there.

Geologically, the lava flow left behind lots of really cool (literally) caves.  Although the website I used for planning my visit suggested taking the bus to Saiko Bat Cave, when I got to Kawaguchiko station, the helpful info lady said the next bus would go to the Fugaku Wind Cave, so that was the one I ended up going to.  You could still see the way the lava moved, even after more than a millennium.  There was also a display inside that talked about how the cave was used for storing seeds and silkworm eggs, allowing for preservation and increased production. 

So I finally went this weekend.  As I sat in Jonathan's* having my weekly R&R**, I plotted my course.  It seemed that the Sotetsu bus from Yokohama was my best option.  Unfortunately, the next one wasn't til 12:20 and you had to book in advance.  Oops.  So I decided the time had come for another one of my epic*** rail journeys.  From Kikuna, my nearest and dearest, I rode out to Hachioji on the Yokohama line, then took the Chuo line for Otsuki.  And THEN I got the Fujikyu train to Kawaguchiko.  All told it took me about 4 hours to get out there.  Luckily the return trip somehow shaved off an hour.  It cost around 2400 yen as well, which was 400 yen more than the two and a half hour bus ride.  So, y'know.  Learn from my fail.

When I finally got off the last train I was dismayed by how many other people were around.  Kawaguchiko seems well off the beaten path, and it's not late enough in the year for going up to the top of Fuji.  I still don't get it.  Maybe it was the cherry blossoms.  While the sakura here has been pretty well denuded for the last week, the hills were alive with the sound of music...as long as the music sounds like this.

So I was afraid that there were going to be shit tons of people in the forest, which could be mendoksai for my photography.  As it turned out, though, whatever drew all the tourists, it wasn't the sea of trees.  Once I left the road behind, I was alone.  I passed one group who were exiting as I was going in, but that was it.  Thank goodness last night's Supernatural wasn't one of those "creepy forest creature" episodes, because honestly that could have transformed my appreciation of the forest's peaceful natural beauty pretty fast.

Once I got away from the road, it was quiet beneath the densely packed canopy.  A little sun streamed in, but it was cool.  The trees hadn't fully greened out, but the moss largely made up for it.  The ground was uneven, but soft under foot, layers of decomposing materials on top of each other: wood, leaves, moss, needles.  In fact, sometimes my footfalls sounded as if the forest floor was hollow.

I came to a fork in the path after a few minutes.  One led to the bird park, another promised a "rough trail" to the village.  I decided a rough trail sounded good, and took the right fork.  I quickly discovered that by rough they meant "unfinished," as in "it was a rough sketch of where to walk in the woods."  There were a couple of times where I came close to losing the trail.  Which probably wouldn't have been the end of the world as I have a pretty good sense of direction, but from what I understand, you're also more likely to stumble on undiscovered remains away from the trail, so I felt no need to prove that I'd be able to find my way back out of the forest without a path.

When I got to the next fork and realized I still had a long way to go toward the village, I decided it was time to head out of the woods.  I hopped on a bus that I thought was going back to the station, but ended up taking the scenic route - which I mean in this instance both literally and colloquially.  Getting a little closer to Fuji-san was a nice side bonus to this expedition.  As an artist I try not to pass up opportunities to look at the iconic mountain, particularly when I've spent the last week watching anime about camping around it.  I was kind of wishing I could've stayed the night and explored more of the area.  Maybe in my next Japan life I'll do exactly that.  Instead, when I got back to the station I walked to a nearby yakiniku restaurant and restored my vampiric HP with some tasty beef and a dolsot bibimbap.  Having sated my unholy appetite, I got my ass back to the station to begin the trek home.

So that was my Aokigahara adventure.  If you hate people and want to try out a little forest bathing, I can't think of a better place to do so.  Although, admittedly, I'm not really an outdoor cat, so what do I know?  After all, I was too busy taking pictures to relax and embrace nature, not to mention I have a healthy dislike of bugs getting in my hair, clothing, backpack, or really anywhere near me.  Since I got the shots I was hoping for, I felt satisfied calling it a day.


*Closer to home than Denny's...but their French toast isn't as good.
**Read and wRite
***In this usage, a word that means LONG...like, Aragorn and Frodo walking to Rivendell long.

Crazy Like A Fox

Setting a time limit makes everything seem urgent.  My current life timer is counting down til the end of June/beginning of July, when I'll leave Japan for at least a good long while.  Not only am I sure I'll be back, I'm already kind of planning on when: August 2020.  (That will give me a year to save up money so I can go to Drum Tao's taiko extravaganza that they hold on Kyushu every summer.)  In the meantime, there are things I've got to do before I leave, just in case the great catfish finally sinks the country before I get back.  That's why as soon as our bloody open house was over on Saturday*, I walked over to Yokohama Station and hopped the train up to Tokyo Station, where I caught a shinkansen for the second time in a month, this time heading to Shiroishi.  The next thing I needed to check off my Japan bucket list was the Miyagi Zao Fox Village.

This was a thing Sensei had never heard of before, but Baby Chicken Wing had - she actually asked me before I moved here if I was going to go.  "Hell yes," was the answer, although I never quite figured out when I was going to go.  Thanks to my new shinkansen addiction and what was left of my three-day weekend when the school was done with me, I decided the time was ripe.  The night before I'd finally sat down to find a hotel for the night.  Booking.com set me up with a hotel next to the station for about $80, and if it didn't have a hot spring, it DID have electric air conditioners, unlike the ryokan I stayed at in Jigokudani.  The hotel restaurant, with its all-you-can-eat shabu shabu was just a bonus.  I didn't even care to go out and have a look around that night - just read and relaxed.

The next morning, though, I was out by eight on a mission.  That night I'd run up against a snag - apparently the bus that goes up to the fox village only goes on Tuesdays and Fridays.  This is honestly the stupidest foxing thing I've ever heard: that the main tourist attraction of a very small town only has a bus service on weekdays.  According to the hotel desk, there was no other bus.  I suspected shenanigans, so I asked Sensei to look in Japanese while I wrestled the interwebs in English.  There seemed to be another bus at some point in the past, so I went out looking for it Sunday morning, but had no luck.  Which was too bad, but I stumbled across an interesting shrine and had a closer look at Shiroishi Castle while I was at it.

See, if you can't take a bus to the Fox Village, you're stuck taking a taxi, which costs 4,000 yen each way.  Now when I was a rich art teacher in from Mongolia I wouldn't have given two fox about paying up, but on my current salary with my current expenses, 80 bucks roundtrip is more than I can pay (hell, that's pretty much what my hotel cost).  So when I got back to the station I followed Sensei's suggestion** and held up a drawing of a fox in my sketchbook with the word ikitai in hopes I'd make new friends.  I didn't.  But when I finally decided to suck it up and just go pay for the cab, there were two Taiwanese guys waiting for the cab they'd called, and they asked if I wanted to share.

So finally I was on my way.  It took about a half hour on snowy, winding roads to get there, but finally we pulled up to the main gate.  I carried some trepidations with me.  On the ride up I read some of their recent Tripadvisor reviews and they were pretty bad, complaining about the smell, rude staff, and animal cruelty.  I was at least a little worried it was going to turn out to be a huge waste of money, but I wasn't willing to write it off for a loss.  So I paid my 1,000 yen and followed the sound of yips inside.

Your first glance of the foxes is through cages.  This seemed a little cruel at first, but later I figured out that these were the ones that they use for the optional fox petting experience.  Presumably they have to raise them to be tame enough to be handled by tourists...or else drugged.  In either case, I'm guessing that keeping them with the free-range foxes probably isn't a great idea.

I moved pretty quickly into that enclosure, since that is really what the trek out there is all about.  I was barely through the door when I found two foxes right in front of me, so I grabbed my camera, only to have the gatekeeper tell me not to take pictures.  This was something that was mentioned in one of the Tripadvisor reviews, and for a second I was worried I wouldn't be able to indulge my shutterbug tendencies.  But as I looked around I realized plenty of people were taking photos - just not by the entrance.  So I moved away and started shooting.  On my way out I saw a sign that said the foxes often attack by the entrance - apparently that's why they forbid photography in that area.

I moved on.  There were foxes everywhere, mostly red foxes but there were other breeds and colors, too.  Some of them nipped and postured at each other.  Others were sleeping.  At least one vixen was in heat, because she had several suitors fighting over whose turn it was to "do it like they do on the Discovery channel."

There was definitely a smell, but that goes with the territory.  Animals have smells.  In this case, it was the smell of musk, not urine or poop.  Don't get me wrong - it wasn't really a pleasing aroma, and I still had the ghost of it lingering in my nose til I was halfway back to Tokyo.  But the enclosure didn't seem to be dirty - I didn't find myself trying not to step in shit the way I remember doing as a child when I visited a certain family member with two big Rottweilers and a very small yard.

They had treats that you could buy to feed the foxes.  I didn't get any.  In order to feed them, you go onto a raised platform...kind of like a detached porch?...and toss them to the foxes waiting below.  Not the touching nature experience that you hope for when you hear "feed the animals."  I'm not complaining, really - there was ample evidence that these animals were not pets, not to mention the fact that the staff let you know what not to do and that they weren't responsible if you got your dumb ass bitten.  I crossed that experience off my bucket list as a child that time my Dad let me feed the ostrich through the window at the nature safari around Springfield, and I'm not really in any hurry to repeat it.  But I also didn't feel like spending any more money that day.

There was a...well-worn...Inari shrine in the park as well.  Of all the things to complain about, I think this is the one that actually bothers me.  It's not that I give zero fox about animal rights.  I do, I promise - I just don't think these foxes are particularly mistreated.  The "shrine," on the other hand, seemed like a particularly half-assed attempt to lend an air of legitimacy to the fox village.  We're in Japan, bitches.  This is a country that has been known to build train stations around sacred trees, rather than cutting them down.  The torii were pretty beaten up, and the shrine itself looked more like a chicken coop than housing for the gods.  That didn't stop me from trying to get a good picture; it just made me a little less disappointed when it didn't really happen.

So those are my thoughts on the fox village.  Not the worst way to spend a weekend, although it would have been nice if I could have managed to go to the nearby Kokeshi village (this is the second doll museum with a painting experience I've passed up on these trips, which makes me think I'm going to have to do a grand tour of Japanese dolls on a future trip back to Japan) - as it was I didn't want to pay for another taxi.   For now, I'm grounding myself from road trips until May (aka, firefly squid, take 2)...at least, unless I can figure out how to afford a trip on the Royal Express.  I hear Shizuoka's beautiful this time of year...


*How much do I look forward to not having to work one Saturday a month as of August???  SO much!
**Actually her suggestion was hitchhiking.  And it probably would have been perfectly safe to do so here in Japan, but I wasn't in the mood to stand out in the cold.  Also, I had the small sketchbook, so I wasn't sure if anyone would get the message as they zipped past.

Bullet with Butterfly Wings

So the Monkey Park was great, but do you know what's even better?  Riding the Shinkansen, Japan's bullet train.  Imagine if a train and an airplane fell in love and had a baby.  That's essentially what the Shinkansen is:  clean, fast, and convenient.

To be honest, I wasn't sure if I'd have the chance to ride the Shink before I leave Japan.  As I once (accidentally) told the nerds I left behind, Japan is fucking expensive, and the bullet train is one of the most expensive things I've encountered.  So when I was trying to figure out the logistics of getting to Jigokudani, I actually asked Sensei about taking the slow train.  She looked it up for me, but the Shinkansen turned out to be cheaper, and that was all the provocation I needed.  The following Saturday morning saw me on a platform at Tokyo Station waiting to be allowed to board the train.

See, the train gets into the station, everyone gets off (because Tokyo is the last station on the line, or, in my case, the first), and then the crew goes to town and cleans the whole train in about fifteen minutes.  About five minutes before departure the doors open to let everyone on, and we all file in, in the most polite and orderly way.  I was still getting my backpack and coat settled above my seat when I realized the train was already moving.  I'd hardly felt it take off.

It was so easy.  I'd sprung for the reserved seat, and there was no one sitting next to me the whole hour and forty-five minutes.  I felt the euphoria attached to travel shenanigans take hold of me and I realized that this is what I'd been missing.  It's a little strange, but over the last few years in Mongolia I found myself getting less excited about traveling, and decided it was okay that I wasn't going to have much money for traveling while I was in Japan - after all, everything I wanted to see was here.  That said, I have to admit that when Shutterfly or Facebook remind me what I was doing one year ago, or five, I feel jealous of myself.  I miss being that intrepid traveler, and I have to say, that's one of the things I'm looking forward to the most about going back to Mongolia.

Because, oh yeah, that's happening.  In my last post I mentioned I wasn't renewing my contract.  The kicker is that neither is my successor at my old school.  When I finally told my students I was leaving UB, I tried to reassure them that I might be back, and it turns out that's exactly what I'm doing.  What can I say - I miss them.  And Engrish and Blondie, who are still there.  And having money to travel, and save, and, oh yeah, pay for this master's degree that I'm in the middle of.  I also miss being able to get foot massages and eat hotpot and take taxis.  So that's that.  Back to Mongolia I go!

I enjoyed having an empty seat beside me so much that I actually bought the Shinkansen equivalent of a business class ticket on the way back because I wanted a little more room, and let me tell you, THAT was totally worth it.  I worked on my current sewing project and checked out the bathroom, and watched the trolley witch roll her trolley full of goodies past (I didn't buy anything because this was not the Hogwarts Express so she didn't have any pumpkin pasties or chocolate frogs). 

I loved the whole experience so much that I'm pretty sure I'm going to do it again in two weeks - we have a (sorta) three-day weekend, and I still haven't been to the Zao Fox Village.

A Sampler of Cities

Here's a joke for you that rings all too true - what kind of hotels do art teachers stay in?  Sketchy ones!  It's been a while since I've stayed in an actual hotel, and I wasn't really planning on doing it now.  AirBnBs tend to be a better room for a better price, but the one I booked myself into in Nagano turned out to actually be a hotel...which just happened to be a few blocks up from a red light district.  I've done this on more than one occasion (notable exception: Amsterdam) and it never fails to amuse me that I can be so adept at it.

This has been a strange sort of trip for me, as evidenced by my inability to keep up my blog.  I ran around a lot, and saw some stuff, but most of the things I saw and did I've seen and done before.  Since I didn't want to bore all six of my faithful readers with the same old stories, it took me a little longer to come up with a different way of approaching this trip than "Lemme tell you all the stuffs I did."

The whole point of my Golden Week travels was to go to Toyama, but once I got off the Willer bus there, I stuck my bag in a locker and immediately caught a train for Kanazawa.  This was kind of dumb, because the bus goes on to Kanazawa from there, but I didn't  realize that when I booked the ticket.  Anyways.  If you can believe the hype, Kanazawa rivals Kyoto for its beauty and intact old buildings, which is a nice thought but untrue in my opinion.  Kanazawa was nice enough (except for the tourists and the hot sun beating down), but unlike Kyoto, I feel no need to go back.

For me, the highlight of Kanazawa was the gardens.  Ain't nobody does a water feature like the Japanese.  All throughout the place you could hear the laughter of water over rocks.  I wished I could have seen it back in late February, when the plum grove would have been blooming.  Instead I got to witness clouds of pollen launching themselves off thousand year old pines.  I went through a lot of tissues that day.

I headed back to Toyama that evening.  This was a city I actually liked quite a bit, and it's kind of strange.  I didn't actually do a lot there.  I went because I wanted to see the firefly squid light up the bay, and sadly, I missed it.  The hostess of the second place I stayed said they'd been on the beach the night before I came to stay with her, and though I went out both nights I was at her place, they didn't come back.  It was disappointing, but I wouldn't mind trying again next Golden Week.

Instead I got to see them in the Hotaruika Museum in nearby Namerikawa, but it felt like a bit of a cheat.  Since that quest was ultimately a failure, my favorite thing about Toyama - besides watching Avengers without having to book in advance or share armrests - was the Glass Art Museum.  Or, to be more precise, their "garden" of Chihulys.  These days I don't go full fangirl every time I see his work, but they had some amazing pieces, curated beautifully.  I looped around and went through the exhibit again after I finished the first time.  It was great.

I also made a side trip to Takayama.  Although I went there for the folk village, that wasn't the best part of Takayama.  What I loved most about it...okay, the thing I really loved the most is that someone made a theme cafe right across from the station based on erotic ukiyo-e prints.  I didn't actually go there - too many questions about what's in the secret sauce for this girl! - but I looked at the photos on Google maps and it was accurately named.  Besides that, my favorite thing was the temple district.  After finding a place for a late lunch, I wandered downstream to a huge torii, and found my way uphill to its shrine, then wound my way through old streets - the setting sun cast a golden light on everything, making me wish I had a little longer to explore everything.  Instead, I had to catch the train back to Toyama.

It actually turns out I really love the train.  It should seem like a huge waste of time to chug along the tracks on a local train.  Instead, I find it really relaxing.  You get to think, and read, and enjoy the scenery.  For about two hours I was planning to keep things simple and just take the shinkansen to get to Nagano.  It would have saved me four hours, but cost twice as much.  Since I don't get paid that kind of money, it's just as well I like the train.

Nagano was...not what I was expecting.  I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting, other than the fact that my distant cousin had been living there and seemed to like it a lot.  It once hosted the Olympics and grew out of a temple district, and that seemed good enough to justify a trip.  Also, the bus back was half the price of getting to Toyama, and should have taken half the time, although I've now been on this bus for longer.. it turns out the traffic getting back from Golden Week is a pain, and I maybe should have splashed out on the Shinkansen this time.  Oh well, we're almost back to Shinjuku now, and it's given me time to work on this blog.

The final flavor in my sampler of cities is Matsumoto.  I argued with myself as to whether or not to spend the time and money to see Matsumoto.  The main draw there was their castle, which unlike most of the castles I've seen, is black, and yes, that IS a legit reason to want to see a castle.

But when I went looking for what else there was going on in Matsumoto, I found out they had an exhibition of Kusama Yayoi's art...which I'll talk about in a later post.  Suffice it to say that this was enough to decide it for me, since her museum in Tokyo is still sold out three months in advance.  Instead, I want to take a break here to talk about food. I'm giving my very brief time in Matsumoto top honors, because it had something that none of the other places I visited had - easy access to fast food.  When I walked out of Matusmoto Station McDonald's was waiting right across the street.  Macca's is my breakfast of choice when I'm traveling, mostly because I'm lazy AF and usually it's convenient.  Not so on this trip - there NEVER seemed to be one close by.  Since it was too late for breakfast, I stopped for lunch at the Coco Curry that was just around the corner before hoofin' it up the street to the art museum.  This had been another rarity, even though in Tokyo I can almost use it as a landmark.  Which just goes to show that traveling is all well and good, but sometimes it's just nice to stay home.

One, Two, Skip a Few...

Sorry for the gap in writing - I've been back home since Sunday, but between my painting course, work, and my newest sewing creation I haven't been able to conclude my adventures.  So picking up where we left off, Sensei gave me some advice about things to see, and one of them was her friend, Ikuko.  I was supposed to stay with her on Wednesday, but I screwed up the day (I was actually in Tokushima on Tuesday), and when I hadn't heard back from her that Tuesday would be okay I panicked and rented an AirBnb for the night instead.  And after I clicked confirm, I noticed that my phone was blinking with a message.  I felt like a complete idiot.  But we made plans to meet up anyways and have dinner together.

Something you might realize about me if you've been following this blog for any length of time is that I'm a pretty solid introvert.  I like people okay (most of th...sometimes...) but it takes me a while to warm up, especially if I'm talking to another introvert.  Ikuko, on the other hand, is an extrovert, and she was so friendly and chatty that it was really easy to talk to her and her boys.  When she picked me up at the train station she asked if I'd been to Ryozen-ji yet, and off we went to my first of the 88 temples.

One of the notable things about Shikoku is it has a special pilgrimage, the hachijuhakkusho-meguri.  Most of the temples on the route were either restored or built by a monk known as Kobo Daishi - who just happened to also create the kana syllabary (aka, the way to read Japanese without learning thousands of characters) and founded the Shingon sect, Japan's take on esoteric Buddhism.  In the old days, pilgrims would walk the route, but now most people take buses, as Ikuko said her colleague did (although, she explained, being a gaijin and one who enjoys his adult beverages, it still took him several years to actually make it to all 88). 

When I originally read about the Shikoku pilgrimage, I thought, "That would be pretty cool.  I could do it on a bike!"  Maybe if I hadn't actually got a job this year I could have done it...but probably not.  I think my days for that kind of adventure are long gone.  But when she suggested we check out the first two - because Gokuraku-ji is very close to Ryozen-ji - I was happy that I'd at least get to start the route.

It was late, so we were the only visitors at the temples, and they were a little spooky, but also really beautiful.  It seems like all the important temples in Japan are big and intimidating, but there was something about these quiet temples that was really approachable (of course, I might change my tune in the daylight if they were crowded with pilgrims...who knows).  But exploring the temple grounds with Ikuko and her boys was really nice (bonus - when you're with little kids, you don't feel silly ringing the bell).

As Ikuko was driving me to Tokushima station later after dinner, she invited me to come back again to visit.  I said I had to - I still had 86 temples left to visit!  We laughed over the fact that I'd still probably get them finished sooner than her co-worker, and I said, "Oh, I think there are a few in Matsuyama - I might get another one or two in."  And as it turned out, I did, although not in Matsuyama.  After confirming that no, I would not be able to visit Nagoro on this trip (aka, another reason I have to come back to Shikoku), I took the next local train I could out.

Now, on a map, Matsuyama looks like a straight shot west from Miyoshi, but on the train you have to go up to the coast and then head south west.  One of the issues I think Google maps was having directing me was the fact that most of the trains along the route don't go the whole route...unless you're on a limited express.  Being determined that I was NOT going to do the limited express thing, I bought my first ticket as far as Tadotsu, and from there, got a train bound for Kan'onji.  After I got on the second train, I started wondering if there was anything to do in Kan'onji - the name sounded like a temple, after all, and in fact Kan'on-ji turned out to be the 69th temple, so I decided that would be an excellent pit stop on my very long train trek.  FYI - while I'd prefer to have my internet sorted out and have a real internet connection at home, the pocket router has proven to be pretty damn useful - I can't tell you how great it was to not have to go looking for a 7-Eleven or McDonald's to poach wifi.

One of the things I came to really appreciate in Shikoku is that it seemed like every station had lockers.  I dumped my bag in one of them after making change in the adjacent coke machine, which poured fountain cup into a cup of pebble ice.  (This is my new favorite thing, and I've been on the lookout since coming back for this kind of vending machine - while normally this coke connoisseur prefers cans, that is merely because five years in Mongolia have conditioned me to not expect fountain coke).  Having done this, I set off in the direction of temples 68 and 69.  67 and 70 were close by as well, but Google maps wouldn't tell me where, and I decided not to be a glutton for punishment.

Along the way, I noticed a theme.  There were posters and banners that featured that old-fashioned kind of golden coin with the square hole in the middle.  Relying again on my pocket router, I looked up Kotohiki Koen, which seemed to be what the fuss was about.  I was both shocked and delighted by what I discovered - there was a gigantic sand sculpture of a coin just on the other side of the hill from Jinne-in and Kan'on-ji.  After visiting the temples, I hiked up the hill to take a look.

The Sand Dollar (get it?) was supposedly first constructed in 1633 to honor Daimyo Ikoma Takatoshi, who was visiting.  According to the placard at the top of the hill, it was made in only one night, and twice a year volunteers help spruce it up, since even giant sand sculptures are no match for the wind and rain.  It is said that anyone who looks at it will live a long, healthy life without money troubles, so hey - bonus!

Rather than going back the way I'd come, I decided to follow the path onward, assuming it would end up at the torii I'd passed on the way to Kan'on-ji.  The gate apparently marked the entrance to Kotohikihachimangu, a Shinto shrine.  I've done a little research about Japanese spiritual life as part of my process journal for my painting course, and I found it interesting that Shinto and Buddhism - two very different religions - have managed to coexist peacefully in Japan all this time.  When I stop and think about the fact that Christianity, Judaism, and Islam are essentially THE SAME F*@($NG RELIGION and yet we STILL haven't figured out how to get along, it makes me never want to leave Japan.

This shrine seemed almost abandoned - there was a guy up there doing calisthenics, but otherwise, there was no other sound, as I checked out the emas - votive tablets you write your wishes on.  I was checking out some of the really beautiful paintings that had been done on them when I became aware of a knocking sound.  I followed it to the back of the temple grounds, and found myself in front of a small building, where it stopped.  Part of me was tempted to poke around and find out what it was...the other part of me is whimsical enough to halfway believe that's a good way to fall into a well and end up back in the Sengoku Jidai...*

When I looked up Kan'onji at first, I also looked up the next seemingly major stop along the Yosan Line, Imabari.  It also hosts a couple of the 88 temples, and I thought it would be another good opportunity to stretch my legs.  However, when I got back to the station, the next local train went all the way to Matsuyama - I had just enough time to grab my bag and another of those fountain cokes before jumping on the train, and once I was settled, there was no way I was getting off.  It trundled along the tracks, through tunnels, past villages and rice paddies, and I decided it was just as well that I was going to have to come back to visit Nagoro - I really loved the leisurely pace of taking the train around Shikoku.  Although I may wait until I've left Japan and come back as a tourist so that I can do it with a JR pass instead of paying at each station...

*This is how a manga/anime called Inuyasha starts.  It's one of my favorites, but involves more bug-type monsters than I'd like to deal with in real life, and is set in the very dangerous Warring States Period, so if I was going to get sucked into an alternate reality based on an anime I've watched, I wouldn't choose that one.