Another scorcher – 32 °C at 9 am (with 4 am sunrise, 9 o’clock is more like midday back home.) We hired bikes and headed out through the suburbs to Kinkaku-ji, where busloads of tour-guided captives go to gawp at a temple literally covered in gold leaf. The crowd was beyond my comfort level, but I overheard an American woman exclaiming breathlessly about the staggering beauty and serenity as she peered between a wall of backpack-clad tourists to catch a glimpse of the ripples where a carp had just broken the surface.
Luckily on the way there we chanced upon the lovely suburban Kamigoryo Shinto shrine, where only two locals strolled in to commune with some of the 13 spirits that live there, so I have preserved that as my morning’s memory.
Not quite so beset by tour buses was the nearby Ryoan-ji, a Zen Buddhist thing that houses the world’s best zen raked stone garden. I would love to visit it at dawn to fully appreciate its 400-year-old gardens and streams which, even with a growing crowd, radiated the serenity the aforementioned American found in Kinkakuji.
We thought we would be clever and avoid the crowds at the famous Arashiyama Bamboo Forest, so exhausted ourselves biking all the way across town to the Takenomichi park which justifiably boasts one of the “100 best walks in Japan”. By the time we got ourselves up the final hill on our manual bikes in 34° we had lost the will to walk, so we simply rode around the outskirts, admiring the towering bamboo and the astonishing variety of simple but intricate bamboo fencing, before heading slowly home to cool off.
Just across from our hotel is Sumo Chaya Nagiri where the chef, a former sumo wrestler, prepared chanko nabe, the protein-rich stew traditionally eaten by wrestlers to build up their weight. Cooked on a burner on the table in a surprisingly light broth, it contained pork, chicken, tofu and a whole heap of very welcome vegetables.
July 12
Another scorcher. We subwayed to the famous Gion district, home to the Nishiki markets and Pontocho Alley, both deserted before opening hours. There were sadly no geishas posing in the surrounding alleys because Sunday is their day off from being decorative and subservient, and anyway photos of them are strictly prohibited. The heat drove us back into air-conditioned comfort with a visit the Kyoto Owl Forest, a small room next door to the local Mipig cafe where 15 owls are tethered tightly to branches. Putting our animal rights consciences to one side we gazed closely, took photos and gently petted them with the back of our hands only, as instructed.
Home for another cooling shower and rest, then out to see the famous, and endless, red arches at Fushimi Inari along with a solid block of shuffling tourists. I wished I had limited my experience to the publicity photos, but luckily The Navigator spotted another bamboo forest off to one side that was deserted, and we found ourselves walking an untended track through spectacular bamboo, past a few small unkempt shrines, and into someone’s backyard, which provided the memorable experience for the afternoon.
Back to the hotel refuge with another embarrassingly soaked shirt and finally out again for ramen and a wander through the tiny lanes around Gion. The famous restaurant street, Pontocho, was crowded and ghastly but the sunset over the river was about as lovely as I have ever seen.
July 13
Jill braved the heat and went off to see the famous castle with the chirping floors, while I caught a train and walked to a typical Japanese hardware store way out in the suburbs. Bunnings could learn a thing or two in this town.
Jill found a normal (ie superb) lunch in a small restaurant down a tiny lane near our hotel – katsu curry which I will continue to make as a staple when we get home. Happily, the Japanese supermarket near our home stocks Vermont Curry, the top selling roux in Japan.
Shosiein Garden was not much further down the road – thoroughly Japanese with lakes and tea rooms and very pleasant for an hour or so. It’s a part of the Higashi Honganji temple complex which we would visit the next morning, both well-deserving of being on the tour bus circuit, but fortunately not making the cut. Lucky us. We cold showered again because it was 34° again and extremely humid, then took a chance on TeamLab Biovortex.
There are a few of these art installations around Japan, with room after room offering sound and light shows – some of them interactive. Kanji that floated slowly down the walls dissolved when touched, lizards and snakes exploded when stomped on and re-formed just out of reach, and I may have behaved just a tad immaturely for a while. There was a room full of soapy foam, a golden pond to slosh through, no maps or guides or long-winded descriptions patronisingly explaining how we should interpret anything, and it was all very satisfyingly mind-blowing.
Our final dinner was tempura prepared and cooked in front of us – delicious with eel, fish, pork, chicken, and vegetables – light, crispy and wonderful. When the chef called out repeatedly as he poured sauce over the food before serving, all the staff joined in with an echo.
July 14
Speaking of chants, on our last morning we walked a short distance along the road to Higashi Honganji temple complex, housing one of the largest wooden buildings in the world, to hear the monks doing their morning chants. We arrived early, admiring the buildings and a pile of the 15 cm-thick rope woven with human hair and hemp – the former to give it enough strength to hoist the immense roof beams into place. There was no lack of reverence on my part in choosing to take one of the provided chairs onto the tatami mats so that my nanajuroku-year-old knees did not have to assume the lotus position while we were entranced by the monks’ daily devotions.
Back to the hotel for a quick konbini breakfast – the 7-Eleven across the road is always well-stocked with egg sandwiches and ongiri with salmon and mayo – one last visit to a Japanese toilet, which, if you’ve been here, you’ll know is one of this country’s greatest inventions, and a lovely stroll through back streets and alongside a canal to the catch the Shinkansen back to Tokyo. The two hours it took to travel the 500 km contrasted with the hour and a half it took the suburban train to traverse the 70 km from central Tokyo to Narita Airport, although, as expected in this country, it arrived dead on time.
Looking back, it wasn’t the temples or the museums that made Japan memorable. It was the ordinary things done extraordinarily well. Convenience stores that sold genuinely good food. Tiny restaurants serving perfect meals. Trains that simply worked. Streets without rubbish. And everywhere, people quietly trying not to inconvenience anyone else. No country is perfect, but Japan left us wondering what life would be like if a little more courtesy and consideration became everyone’s default setting.
I have a suspicion I’ll find myself bowing to the checkout operator at the supermarket when we get home.
The Toyota Rental Car shop was only a very short taxi ride from the Abashiri Kankō Hotel but our driver managed to give us a a notably unique experience by nearly going through a stop sign. That sort of impoliteness just doesn’t happen here.
You only need to hire a slow cheap car here – the open road speed limit is 60 kph, with 40 – 50 in built up areas which makes sense to the locals because their country roads are as narrow and poorly maintained as ours are in New Zealand, the difference being that that worries them. Their very low road toll is, I suspect, mostly due to people falling asleep through boredom, while we manage to kill each other at four times the rate by having higher speed limits and far too many drivers puffing P to stay alert. That’s not the way they do things here – respect and harmony win.
Our first stop was the Museum of Northern Peoples which showcases the whole northern hemisphere above this latitude, not just the Ainu. It’s a stunningly good museum, carefully curated into 36 displays which cover all aspects of the way of life and the history of people who live in these harsh and brutal climes. The Ainu, the original inhabitants of Hokkaido, are one of the most southern of these, and were heavily suppressed and oppressed by the Japanese mainlanders during the 19th century, extinguishing their language and culture in much the same way as Americans, Canadians, Australians, and British New Zealanders did to their respective indigenous people. What an insecure pack of pricks our forefathers were, unable to tolerate people who simply lived differently. I wonder about “developed” nations sometimes.
Then it was time to check out the Abashiri Prison Museum. The worst of Japan’s criminals were sent here and in the second half of the 19th century were put to work building the roads which opened up Hokkaido to development. They were not valued highly and 20% perished. We enjoyed a “prison lunch” at the restaurant, then drove sedately south to Kushiro to look at a bird.
July 2
The red crowned crane is a monstrous thing, 1.5 m tall and gorgeous, revered as a god by the Ainu and hunted almost to extinction during the 20th century, with habitat destruction almost completing the job. The local population has improved from 30 in the 1960s to 2000 now and the work continues.
We saw a couple in the wild while biking last week, but they go deep into the wetlands in summer so there were none at the usual viewpoints. We contented ourselves with a visit to the rehab centre and took far too many photos.
Next on the list was Ainu culture. Akan is a well forested area, with different, more varied trees than we are used to, and with no wilding pines and no litter along the roads anywhere the landscape felt quite foreign. Known as an Ainu centre, Akan town is a slightly tired TMZ, with lakeside hotels. It’s a lovely lake with tame wild deer providing a foreground for our cliche photos, but the town feels like it was built 30 or 40 years ago for a tourist boom that never quite arrived, and we joined about a dozen local tourists in a 300 seat theatre to tolerate a rather lacklustre display of Ainu dancing. The onsen was good though in our hotel, and I’m becoming much more supple sleeping on futons on the tatami matted floor.
July 3
The beautiful drive – mostly on quiet back roads at a soporific 60 km/hr – through Daisetsuzan National Park would have been even more spectacular had the deeply atmospheric mists lifted. The Navigator even found a proper gravel road which was not much rougher than many of the mosaically patched and potholed tar-sealed roads they have here.
We’ll hole up in a vast loft apartment in Asahikawa, the 2nd largest city in Hokkaido, pop 320,000, for a couple of nights.
July 4
Hokkaido is famous for its flowers, so we drove out to the Furano area to check them out. The famous Panoramic Gardens was TMZed to hell, with tractors towing trailer-fulls of cameras attached to tourists producing a cacaphony of clanging nursery rhymes. Farm Tomita was free with much bigger fields surrounded by much more tasteful TMZs, and the traffic was a lesson in Japanese patient queuing. A superb convenience store lunch fuelled a gentle, winding, and very picturesque trip home.
Later on some retail therapy at the biggest mall in town did not reveal anything too unexpectedly bizarre until we came to the puppies for sale or rent ($NZ4,OOO to buy, or $200/month to rent – we hoped they meant rent-to-buy) and with our minds suitably boggled, we traipsed around the corner to join a queue of locals waiting for entry to a famous small ramen restaurant, Ramen Santoka. Mine was salty and creamy, and Jill’s soy ramen with braised pork cheek redefined how good meat can taste. The pork broth is brought to the boil once only, and served at the temperature it is kept at, and my poorly pronounced gochisosama deshita did not truly capture my gratitude for the simple excellence they served.
July 5
We had an early start today because we had to drive serenely over 200 km to drop the car and catch the plane. We chose a route which took us a fox farm, and what a sad little enterprise it was. It was part of the 1980s boom and for some reason it hasn’t yet joined the corpses of tired old tourist relics from the earlier boom, but it can’t be far away. There are maybe a dozen, mainly old red foxes, some unfortunately imprisoned behind glass in tiny stalls and the whole thing takes less than 10 minutes if you walk slowly. We gave it a Don’t Bother rating and sped on, finally noticing that the speed limit is displayed on the driver’s display automatically in this technologically advanced nation.
We only had to put 25 litres of petrol in the car (a smallish hybrid Toyota) for about 700 km, but if you drove anything at this speed all day you’d get the same economy.
We arrived at the airport with half an hour to spare, feeling rather pleased with ourselves, only to be told that our flight left from a similarly-named but entirely different airport some 120 km away. At this point we realised that he who shall not be named had buggered things up right royally. [Can’t blame the Navigator this time – Ed.] The wonderful charming young things behind the counter sorted us out with refunds and new (way more expensive) tickets, without making us feel that we were any bother whatsoever; in fact they loved helping us out and were sorry we were leaving them but happy to see us on our way.
All the travellers tales of vast and complicated train systems in Tokyo are wrong.
Having an excellent Navigator on hand, we walked out of baggage claim at Haneda Airport, down a couple of flights of stairs and straight onto the monorail to Hamamatsucho, straight onto another train and 6 stops later walked 5 minutes to our home for the next 5 nights. We later discovered that Google Maps is even better at directions here, to the point of advising which carriage is nearest your next exit.
We were in Taiko City, 6 km out of central Tokyo, and its tiny streets, and simple suburbness, along with its mandatory silence at night would prove to be exactly the welcome respite we would need after our daily 20,000 steps around the city.
I googled “best ramen near me” and we walked 10 minutes to Craft Ramen where we had a genuine Midnight Diner experience. I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to replicate the savoury glazed mushrooms on rice.
July 6
I turned nanajuroku years old today and I’m very happy about it. I must have 七十六 printed on a t-shirt.
A great euro-style breakfast at a local cafe, coffee not as good as convenience stores here, but the toasted avo sandwich and Jill’s calzone were a welcome break from rice and fish.
We did some sightseeing on the wrong train for a few stops, sorted ourselves out and got to the Tsujiki Fish Market to meet up with David from last week’s group ride. The actual market is surrounded by a few streets of tourist-packed TMZ, all the family groups having an authentic experience which they will remember forever, but us old cynics retreated to a local food hall for excellent tempura.
We subwayed to Shiboya to walk the famous busiest intersection in the world and buy me a backpack at Hands, did some heavy retail work for a while – Don Quixote, pronounced “Donkey” by the locals, was heaving, dazzling, jangling and bizarre – then bounced to Shenjuku to check out the 3D cat. That knocked off the two busiest train stations in the world in one easy step – actually about 5,000 easy steps. We probably could have walked from one to the other entirely underground – enormous doesn’t begin to describe them. That ticked off today’s cliches and we found a tiny, genuine restaurant, Shinpachi Shokudo Seibu, just an ordinary small chain restaurant where you order on the iPad on the table and quickly receive a sublime and exquisite meal served by people who seem genuinely, humbly grateful that you have chosen them to feed you. Typical, really.
Perhaps most typical of the country and these people, I especially remember the young mother of two well-behaved toddlers on a crowded train treating me to a beautiful smile and murmured arigato as I managed to secure her a couple of seats by blocking other passengers. Everyone on trains is so concerned with not invading anyone’s space that they bury themselves in their phones, completely shutting off the world around them, and nobody seemed inclined to make room. Misplaced politeness, perhaps, or not wanting to offend anyone by noticing them, but the habit of giving up your seat for the elderly or otherwise needy is conspicuous by its absence.
July 7
Art day. Misplaced Google reviews lead us to the Tokyo Museum of Art, but the promised great European art was nowhere to be seen, just vast halls of undoubtedly wonderful calligraphy. We quickly left, glad that there was no entry fee for the elderly. That’s been the case at a few of the museums here.
The Museum of Western Art was a different beast. It was initiated in the early 20th century by a wealthy industrialist, Matsukata, with the aim of giving Japan some insight into the western mind. Outside there’s a big Rodin collection – I got a photo of Jill beside the third copy of The Thinker we have seen. Inside the collection begins with a large and, to my eyes, tedious, collection of 15th to mid 19th century stuff, before getting to the art that really interests me. Matsukata was a big fan of the Impressionists and became a good friend of Monet, purchasing a large number of his works directly from him, along with many others from that group. There’s a whole room of Monet, perhaps 20 works, including the original water lilies, painted in his Japanese garden at Giverney, completing a connection I hadn’t realized existed until now.
That would have been enough for me but Tokyo demands 20,000 steps a day so we had a quick lunch in a nearby station (air-conditioned and frequented mainly by locals, then found our way to a market full of junk, food and tourists, paused for a drink and were served the traditional, compulsory and expensive otoshi – a small serving that justifies a seating charge. That’s a tradition that jars with me, but is apparently expected and anticipated by locals.
After a wee zizz we went again to Shinjuku to see the young things emerging from the station dressed to kill in their frills, bows, lace, school-uniform gear and goth boots – sometimes all in one ensemble – and check out a less-than-whelming light show on a big government building. Dinner was a quick yakitori snack in the Memory Lane area – a TMZ but fun anyway. The subway was still crowded after 10 on a Tuesday night.
July 8
First stop, Kurashige Yamasuke tools, tucked away anonymously on the third floor of an unmarked building way out in the sticks. A random guy saw us checking our phones outside and ushered us in and up to a room the size of our living room packed with artisan tools. I didn’t buy any chisels, kannas (hand-forged blades sold dull for the craftsman to hone to their chosen perfection) or hammers (so that’s what balance feels like) but I fell for a couple of pull saws and Jill finally found her perfect kitchen knife. After a konbini lunch we strolled out again to look at a relatively untouched old corner of town, Yanaka, miraculously undestroyed by the ‘23 earthquake and American carpet bombing in ‘45, home to many cats, a very good little shopping street and almost no tourists except us.
It didn’t seem far to the Museum of Contemporary Art so with only about 1 hour walking in between 2 trains we arrived at a really impressive example of modern architecture, with halls sparsely populated by inexplicable things, although the pages of art wank beside each piece did valiantly attempt to provide some insight.
Home through the rush hour in the quiet and polite subways. We missed the katsudon next door at the tiny tonkatsu restaurant because they close quite early, and the ramen down at the corner was only OK, although it would probably win awards back home.
July 9
One of the major highlights of this trip. You can keep your thoughtfully designed gardens, spectacular temples and waterfalls and head straight for the MiPig Cafe in Asakusa in Tokyo. While seething hoards of tour groups swarmed the famous Buddhist temple and gardens and had their authentic shopping experience in the surrounding TMZ, we went up a steep flight of stairs and played with miniature pigs. Bloody marvelous and I had to learn how to say we were very happy in Japanese (totemo ureshii).
Then off to Ginza, the poshest of all posh shopping streets, where the subway emerged next door to Tiffanys, with Issy Miyake, Rolex, Cartier, and Paul Smith etc. all vying in vain for our attention. We found the Muji flagship store around the corner and had a gorgeous pastry or two and a perfect iced coffee before a very successful and reasonably-priced bout of retail therapy. If they would only make clothes for portly Westerners as well as teeny locals.
We subwayed to within 10,000 steps of the Imperial Palace but ran out of oomph in the humid 35° and only got as far as the second moat. The grounds are vast and would probably take a day to explore if we were interested but we’re not, and we’re off to Kyoto tomorrow anyway.
The highlight of the day, and one of the great dining experiences of this trip, was right next door to our apartment, a tiny 6-seater tonkatsu restaurant called 花とくor Hana toku. It’s run by an elderly woman and her daughter, there are only 4 items on the menu, and I really wish we had gone sooner because we could have eaten here every night. We both had katsudon and I should have ordered the katsu curry, in fact I thought I had, but there was no English spoken or written and the don was delicious anyway.
July 10
On our way to catch the Shinkansen to Kyoto, we dropped into the world’s largest electronic store, Yodobashi Akiba. Seven enormous floors full of everything from phones to fridges. We only bought a phone cover for Jill’s phone because we don’t need anything but it was interesting to see the first floor (ground floor here) almost completely full of iToys with only an acre or so at the back dedicated to Android things; actually not unexpected in a country that places such emphasis on being quiet, refined and conservative. On the PC floor above they had a large section of Sake and craft beer – an interesting and revealing exercise in associative marketing.
Further along the overhead railway line there was a group of about 50 artisan stores actually under the tracks, with designer bags, pottery, bags, furniture, bags, clothing and some beautiful bags. Finally, a showcase of good Japanese design.
It was too hot to be tourists so we retreated to Shinegasen station to wait to be taken at up to 292 kph to Kyoto. A modern and excellent no-frills hotel awaited us 10 minutes walk from the station, a konbini opposite, and with several restaurants nearby we were able to satisfy our need for katsu curry with a short stroll over the river.
24 June: 3 days in and I’m already addicted to Japanese politeness, toilets, onsens and convenience stores.
We could only fit in a quick trip this year – a three-weeker – so we’re doing an organised eight-day bike tour (Adventure Hokkaido) on the northernmost island, Hokkaido.
After that we’ll have a few random days to satisfy our need for winging it, before dropping into Tokyo because, being the biggest civilised city in the world, it’s exempt from my usual anti-city prejudice. And we will probably get to Kyoto too, because by that stage we will simply be tourists.
June 22
After a comparatively brief 11-hour flight and a free, polite shuttle to a nearby hotel, we assembled dinner from the super-fresh snacks in the little 7-Eleven in the lobby. A perfectly cooked crumbed pork cutlet with a hint of mustard between two slices of white bread that looked and tasted exactly as white bread should, but rarely does. It sounds inadequate for dinner, and there were plenty of more substantial meals available, but this was sublime. Simple, perfect, tasty, cheap, no fuss – just food being what food should be.
June 23
The hotel’s free shuttle took us back to the airport from where we caught a train through Tokyo to Haneda, the other airport, and to a rare event in this country – a delayed flight to Abashiri, where the bus to the city had waited for the plane. Politely.
The hotel , the Dormy Inn, has an onsen, a guest only bathing area with its natural (legally required) hot spring water on the 9th floor. Read about the process elsewhere – this isn’t going to be an instruction manual – but rest assured that we obeyed the no clothes, no tattoos rule and emerged clean and relaxed. And there’s a 7-Eleven right across the road for a quick and tasty meal, topped up by the hotel’s free evening ramen. Hotels with onsens also provide yukatas (night wear) and slippers which guests wear everywhere. We crawled into our floor-level beds and rested until sunrise flooded the room at 3.30 am. We’re 500 km north of Vladivostok and it’s summer solstice!
June 24
There’s a couple of very good museums here, one based on their infamous prison and the other centred on Northern Peoples, but we explored local culture browsing supermarkets, Uniqlo mega stores and op shops (a Kalashnikov for NZ $95). In the evening we met the others on our tour – a few kiwis, some Aussies and some Americans, mostly around our age. We got fitted to our bikes then were taken out for a local traditional meal, a cut above the 7-Eleven offerings but still simple, sublime and perfect. I can feel myself melting into the culture.
June 25
Today was the first day of riding, a very pleasant 45 km around the peninsula under clear blue skies, pleasantly warm, and with 12 new friends to get to know, along with three tour guides. This isn’t our usual style of touring and we’re rather enjoying the relaxation of having all the decisions made for us, with our batteries checked and swapped if needed.
Language lessons are part of the deal and we’re already saying itadakimasu when food arrives, calling out gochisousama deshita to the chef when we leave, using sumimasen frequently to excuse our Western crassness, and arigato gozaimasu to thank just about everyone for everything. These people have a good basic attitude to life.
June 26
92 km. Everyone else did 88 but The Navigator might have neglected to glance at the provided map a couple of times . Note to self – when on group rides keep the group in sight.
Farmland that looked like NZ, and a good honest 400 m climb to a cold, windy pass above a volcanic lake, where ramen could be ordered through a Japanese-only online system that would have failed my old UX diploma. Then a downhill swoop on slightly patchy tar seal that made me appreciate the skills of cyclists who ride these rigid skinny-tyred beasts. A quick stop at an Ainu museum, a paddle at a hot sand beach much like Lake Taupo, and a super luxury onsen with free booze and an awesome buffet dinner. Oyado Kinkikyu Bettei Suikazura
お宿欣喜湯 別邸すいかずら
June 27
83 km. We started by being dutifully impressed by a large, steaming, sulphur-coated gash in the hills surrounding the lake – and none of the kiwis said “yeah yeah, Taupo, Rotorua, White Island.” We’re trying to out-polite the locals, and besides it was pretty bloody impressive.
Then there was another good honest climb of about 400 m in the rain. I have my biking legs back again and they worked flawlessly all the way up. An early lunch at a dairy farm – a fantastic patty of their own beef in a katsu style curry followed by home-made ice cream – too much food fuelling an easy cruise along a rolling rural road to the Toyo Grand Hotel,Nakashibetsu. The onsen melts away the day’s aches and the meals will be great, and we are astounded at the value because for the same price we would only be able to rent a camping ground cabin anywhere in NZ.
Day 4 June 28
The first 50 km or so of typical NZ scenery was pleasant and reasonably quick. The Giant bikes are under-powered with a long range, and Diasuke, Ayumu and Richard make sure the batteries never get below 50% if there’s any distance left to run, so it’s very relaxing for us seasoned e-bike travellers and we chug along easily on power level 1 or 2 all day. The voice directions from the supplied routes on RWGPS ensure that we don’t get lost. The sun shone without too much warmth and the roads were mostly smooth but I am noticing the lack of full suspension and softer, stickier tyres, especially on long downhill runs where you have to be far more cautious (skilled?) than we are accustomed to.
As we peddled up the Eastern coast of the Shiretoko peninsula, the fishing villages reminded us of Ngawi, but scruffier. Japanese architecture around here is not impressive, in fact quite lacking in any of the virtues I have admired in what I thought I knew about their design aesthetics.
A convenience store picnic lunch at Rausu, gateway to Shiroteko National Park, at 63 km, was a real treat, then most of us carried on 15 km further up the coast – slowly in our case due to the deer that had to be photographed. On the return journey we also paused for a family of foxes and a deer with a day old fawn, grazing amongst piles of old fishing floats.
The 100 km day is as much as we have ever done, the Ryokan had an outdoor onsen, and I was lucky to be sitting with Ayu for the sumptuous set meal to have a commentary on what we were actually eating.
June 29
A short ride across the peninsula, but with a big hill. Under 50 km is often a rest day for us, but the catch is that it started with a 14 km, 700 m climb in cold rain, with, near the summit, a series of mini glaciers in the high valleys creating rushing streams cascading towards us. It was another good honest climb with nothing over 10% and we all sailed up it and down the 8 km other side with no problems. A side trip to look at a lake, and another to look at a waterfall we couldn’t see because of the misty rain, but we did see a bear, and accidentally got a bit closer than the recommended 50 m. The track was closed while we were in there because they take their bears, and our safety, very seriously. Very cool.
Accomodation at a family run Ryokan overlooking the beach, where we had a private onsen and a truly wonderful tempura dinner. We are a really loud bunch, it’s a bit embarrassing, but I was surprised at the reaction to my muttered gochisousama deshita as we left.
June 30
89 km along the coast back to Abashiri, mostly flat except for one diversion along the Road to the Sky, 2.5 km of a climb to 100 m and, at a right angle, back down again. I bettered my bike’s recorded max speed from 57.7 to 58.2.
The first part was a lovely coastal ride, then farmland on our favourite type of empty rural roads. My rigid frame, under-powered Giant bike is great for eating up smooth flat tar-sealed roads, but boy do you notice every single small bump.
Guided tours are a novelty for us – we’ve only done one before – and having Richard, Ayu and Dai introduce us to the language and culture, as well as look after the bikes, made for a very different experience from our usual independent travel. We were also lucky to have such an enjoyable group to ride with.
Another scorcher – 32 °C at 9 am (with 4 am sunrise, 9 o’clock is more like midday back home.) We hired bikes and headed out through the suburbs to Kinkaku-ji, where busloads of tour-guided captives go to gawp at a temple literally covered in gold leaf. The crowd was beyond my comfort level, but I overheard an American woman exclaiming breathlessly about the staggering beauty and serenity as she peered between a wall of backpack-clad tourists to catch a glimpse of the ripples where a carp had just broken the surface.
Luckily on the way there we chanced upon the lovely suburban Kamigoryo Shinto shrine, where only two locals strolled in to commune with some of the 13 spirits that live there, so I have preserved that as my morning’s memory.
Not quite so beset by tour buses was the nearby Ryoan-ji, a Zen Buddhist thing that houses the world’s best zen raked stone garden. I would love to visit it at dawn to fully appreciate its 400-year-old gardens and streams which, even with a growing crowd, radiated the serenity the aforementioned American found in Kinkakuji.
Another scorcher. We subwayed to the famous Gion district, home to the Nishiki markets and Pontocho Alley, both deserted before opening hours. There were sadly no geishas posing in the surrounding alleys because Sunday is their day off from being decorative and subservient, and anyway photos of them are strictly prohibited. The heat drove us back into air-conditioned comfort with a visit the Kyoto Owl Forest, a small room next door to the local Mipig cafe where 15 owls are tethered tightly to branches. Putting our animal rights consciences to one side we gazed closely, took photos and gently petted them with the back of our hands only, as instructed.
Home for another cooling shower and rest, then out to see the famous, and endless, red arches at Fushimi Inari along with a solid block of shuffling tourists. I wished I had limited my experience to the publicity photos, but luckily The Navigator spotted another bamboo forest off to one side that was deserted, and we found ourselves walking an untended track through spectacular bamboo, past a few small unkempt shrines, and into someone’s backyard, which provided the memorable experience for the afternoon.
Back to the hotel refuge with another embarrassingly soaked shirt and finally out again for ramen and a wander through the tiny lanes around Gion. The famous restaurant street, Pontocho, was crowded and ghastly but the sunset over the river was about as lovely as I have ever seen.
Jill braved the heat and went off to see the famous castle with the chirping floors, while I caught a train and walked to a typical Japanese hardware store way out in the suburbs. Bunnings could learn a thing or two in this town.
There are a few of these art installations around Japan, with room after room offering sound and light shows – some of them interactive. Kanji that floated slowly down the walls dissolved when touched, lizards and snakes exploded when stomped on and re-formed just out of reach, and I may have behaved just a tad immaturely for a while. There was a room full of soapy foam, a golden pond to slosh through, no maps or guides or long-winded descriptions patronisingly explaining how we should interpret anything, and it was all very satisfyingly mind-blowing.
Speaking of chants, on our last morning we walked a short distance along the road to Higashi Honganji temple complex, housing one of the largest wooden buildings in the world, to hear the monks doing their morning chants. We arrived early, admiring the buildings and a pile of the 15 cm-thick rope woven with human hair and hemp – the former to give it enough strength to hoist the immense roof beams into place. There was no lack of reverence on my part in choosing to take one of the provided chairs onto the tatami mats so that my nanajuroku-year-old knees did not have to assume the lotus position while we were entranced by the monks’ daily devotions.
Looking back, it wasn’t the temples or the museums that made Japan memorable. It was the ordinary things done extraordinarily well. Convenience stores that sold genuinely good food. Tiny restaurants serving perfect meals. Trains that simply worked. Streets without rubbish. And everywhere, people quietly trying not to inconvenience anyone else. No country is perfect, but Japan left us wondering what life would be like if a little more courtesy and consideration became everyone’s default setting.
