A tale of two Japans: a trip report
Apr 22nd, 2013, 02:49 PM
#21
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Hi Sue. We may have overlapped a bit. We arrived in Japan on April 5 and have since spent time in Tokyo, Osaka, Hiroshima, and Kyoto. We are now in Tokyo again and fly back to Canada tomorrow.
There were two or three times that I wished I had a compass. By the way, did you notice that the area maps you sometimes see at places like subway entrances are not always oriented with north at the top?
We have had a delightful trip, full of rich experiences. I look forward to reading the rest of you report.
There were two or three times that I wished I had a compass. By the way, did you notice that the area maps you sometimes see at places like subway entrances are not always oriented with north at the top?
We have had a delightful trip, full of rich experiences. I look forward to reading the rest of you report.
Apr 22nd, 2013, 02:57 PM
#22
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maps in subways are oriented in what you see in the direction ahead as you step outside that exit and never in our experiences oriented with north at the top unless you are coming out of a north exit.
Aloha!
Aloha!
Apr 22nd, 2013, 03:03 PM
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6 Apr, day four. We wake up to an overcast day with a forecast of rain. No matter, we are used to rain. On go our hiking pants, our Goretex shells, and out comes the umbrella.
We take breakfast at a local McDonald's. Yes, I know, but it's one of the few places open in our neighbourhood when we wake up each morning, and we wake up early. And we need that cup of coffee to try and jumpstart our bewildered bodies into action.
We intend to take the bus to Ginkakuji and walk down the Philosopher's path in a southerly direction, but one look at the packed bus and we reconfigure our route. We elect instead to take the subway to Keage and start with a look at the 'Keage incline' which is an old railway bed, now a kind of park, near the Keage subway station.
As we were yesterday, we are elated to find that the cherry trees are still in bloom. It is true that the blossoms are past peak. Falling petals whirl around our heads, cascade down stone stairways, form pools inches deep in the gutters at our feet. But there are still plenty of intact clusters on the trees.
On the path to Nanzenji it starts to rain. We are sharing an umbrella, so it is one person's job to shelter the camera whilst the other takes a photo, which happens a lot. Starved for colour after a long winter, we are mesmerized by the splendid blossoms around us. There are more than just cherry trees, there are the bright yellow branches of forsythia to be admired, purple azalea blossoms, and other flowering shrubs unfamiliar to me.
We arrive at Nanzenji as it starts to rain. We slip off our shoes, stuff them into the plastic bags provided, and shuffle around in slippers (also provided.) As we stroll the dark wooden floors of the halls, I note the presence of the statuary of gods (?) who are not sombre, but laughing, as if sharing a cosmic joke. I also note various painted screens, but due to the darkness of the rooms, they aren't shown off to maximum advantage. What is, are the rock gardens that surround the open breezeways that connect this and that section of the temple. As we have visited so early, we have the place virtually to ourselves, so the only sounds are of birds and falling rain. Raindrops quietly patter on the rooves of the breezeways, bounce out of artfully shaped pools in the gardens, slip down decorative chains strung vertically from roof to ground - I suspect the chains are there precisely to direct rainwater from the roof to ground away from the building.
Later when I think of Kyoto, I think of this beautifully peaceful temple, our first that we viewed in Japan.
With reluctance we slip back into our shoes and resume our walk, this time joining a parade of bobbing umbrellas of every colour, for the number of sightseers on the Philosopher's path has increased now that the morning is getting on. We stop for tea and a sandwich at a tiny cafe near a school, then resume our walk. As it is cool we succumb to the temptation of diving into this or that shop along the path to warm up. Some sell purses and small handtowels, many sell sweets and so forth. One shop is a potter's studio, and we really liked his stuff. Sensing our admiration, the proprietor whips out some tea and little snacks, along with a binder of photos showing how he produces his work. Alas, I remember that this is a cash society and this shop is no exception, and our initial stockpile of yen is almost depleted, so we leave without making any purchases. I hope to get back to pick out a pair of teacups, but it never happens, thus proving once again the importance of buying something when one first sees it. Or in our case, of being sufficiently stocked with cash to buy something when one sees it.
We reach Ginkakuji in the early afternoon. I confess that as pretty as the garden is, with its sand sculptures and pond views, we are disappointed to find that the interior is accessible only if one takes a guided tour. We didn't object so much to the required tour or the fee, so much as to its being only in Japanese with not so much as an English pamphlet provided. We conclude that if one has no means whatsoever of understanding a tour, there is little point in taking one, and so having seen the garden we head for the bus stop.
We had studied up beforehand about how to use the bus - board in the rear, pay on exit according to the fare displayed electronically up front on a panel - but it took a kind English speaking bus rider to help us realize that we could use an automatic change machine at the front to change a 1000 yen note in advance of getting off. It is crowded on the bus albeit not as bad as this morning.
Once off the bus I remember that it's Saturday, and late Saturday afternoon at that. The post office will be closed, so much for using the associated ATM to get the now much needed cash. Time to find a good map, and plan strategy.
We take breakfast at a local McDonald's. Yes, I know, but it's one of the few places open in our neighbourhood when we wake up each morning, and we wake up early. And we need that cup of coffee to try and jumpstart our bewildered bodies into action.
We intend to take the bus to Ginkakuji and walk down the Philosopher's path in a southerly direction, but one look at the packed bus and we reconfigure our route. We elect instead to take the subway to Keage and start with a look at the 'Keage incline' which is an old railway bed, now a kind of park, near the Keage subway station.
As we were yesterday, we are elated to find that the cherry trees are still in bloom. It is true that the blossoms are past peak. Falling petals whirl around our heads, cascade down stone stairways, form pools inches deep in the gutters at our feet. But there are still plenty of intact clusters on the trees.
On the path to Nanzenji it starts to rain. We are sharing an umbrella, so it is one person's job to shelter the camera whilst the other takes a photo, which happens a lot. Starved for colour after a long winter, we are mesmerized by the splendid blossoms around us. There are more than just cherry trees, there are the bright yellow branches of forsythia to be admired, purple azalea blossoms, and other flowering shrubs unfamiliar to me.
We arrive at Nanzenji as it starts to rain. We slip off our shoes, stuff them into the plastic bags provided, and shuffle around in slippers (also provided.) As we stroll the dark wooden floors of the halls, I note the presence of the statuary of gods (?) who are not sombre, but laughing, as if sharing a cosmic joke. I also note various painted screens, but due to the darkness of the rooms, they aren't shown off to maximum advantage. What is, are the rock gardens that surround the open breezeways that connect this and that section of the temple. As we have visited so early, we have the place virtually to ourselves, so the only sounds are of birds and falling rain. Raindrops quietly patter on the rooves of the breezeways, bounce out of artfully shaped pools in the gardens, slip down decorative chains strung vertically from roof to ground - I suspect the chains are there precisely to direct rainwater from the roof to ground away from the building.
Later when I think of Kyoto, I think of this beautifully peaceful temple, our first that we viewed in Japan.
With reluctance we slip back into our shoes and resume our walk, this time joining a parade of bobbing umbrellas of every colour, for the number of sightseers on the Philosopher's path has increased now that the morning is getting on. We stop for tea and a sandwich at a tiny cafe near a school, then resume our walk. As it is cool we succumb to the temptation of diving into this or that shop along the path to warm up. Some sell purses and small handtowels, many sell sweets and so forth. One shop is a potter's studio, and we really liked his stuff. Sensing our admiration, the proprietor whips out some tea and little snacks, along with a binder of photos showing how he produces his work. Alas, I remember that this is a cash society and this shop is no exception, and our initial stockpile of yen is almost depleted, so we leave without making any purchases. I hope to get back to pick out a pair of teacups, but it never happens, thus proving once again the importance of buying something when one first sees it. Or in our case, of being sufficiently stocked with cash to buy something when one sees it.
We reach Ginkakuji in the early afternoon. I confess that as pretty as the garden is, with its sand sculptures and pond views, we are disappointed to find that the interior is accessible only if one takes a guided tour. We didn't object so much to the required tour or the fee, so much as to its being only in Japanese with not so much as an English pamphlet provided. We conclude that if one has no means whatsoever of understanding a tour, there is little point in taking one, and so having seen the garden we head for the bus stop.
We had studied up beforehand about how to use the bus - board in the rear, pay on exit according to the fare displayed electronically up front on a panel - but it took a kind English speaking bus rider to help us realize that we could use an automatic change machine at the front to change a 1000 yen note in advance of getting off. It is crowded on the bus albeit not as bad as this morning.
Once off the bus I remember that it's Saturday, and late Saturday afternoon at that. The post office will be closed, so much for using the associated ATM to get the now much needed cash. Time to find a good map, and plan strategy.
Apr 22nd, 2013, 03:10 PM
#24
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Hi Anselm, just saw your post. What a pity we missed you, we did indeed overlap. I look forward to hearing of your own impressions.
YES, I noticed that maps not infrequently didn't follow the north-at-the-top convention -- one reason the compass was so useful!
YES, I noticed that maps not infrequently didn't follow the north-at-the-top convention -- one reason the compass was so useful!
Apr 23rd, 2013, 08:24 AM
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It is a measure of my sleepy state that I didn't start off by stating our itinerary.
Fly to LA, check in LA hotel - 1 night
Day in LA, night doing leg exercises in an economy seat - 1 night
(1 Night offered to Dateline God, but night will be stolen back later; meanwhile flip calendar forward to fool him)
Kyoto - 5 nights via flight, bus to Osaka
**JR 7 day pass starts**
Takayama- 2 nights
Nagoya (We Love Nagoya) - 2 nights
Okayama - 2 nights
Tokyo - 3 nights
Day in Tokyo, head for airport late in evening
** but since this is the night stolen back from Dateline God, don't count it, instead flip calendar back and hope Dateline God doesn't notice
LA - 2 nights
Day spent flying back home
Total:
(1 + 2) nights LA
1 night on plane
(1 night offered to Dateline God but stolen back later)
14 nights Japan
Total 18 nights, return on 19th day after departure
Fly to LA, check in LA hotel - 1 night
Day in LA, night doing leg exercises in an economy seat - 1 night
(1 Night offered to Dateline God, but night will be stolen back later; meanwhile flip calendar forward to fool him)
Kyoto - 5 nights via flight, bus to Osaka
**JR 7 day pass starts**
Takayama- 2 nights
Nagoya (We Love Nagoya) - 2 nights
Okayama - 2 nights
Tokyo - 3 nights
Day in Tokyo, head for airport late in evening
** but since this is the night stolen back from Dateline God, don't count it, instead flip calendar back and hope Dateline God doesn't notice
LA - 2 nights
Day spent flying back home
Total:
(1 + 2) nights LA
1 night on plane
(1 night offered to Dateline God but stolen back later)
14 nights Japan
Total 18 nights, return on 19th day after departure
Apr 23rd, 2013, 05:46 PM
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Okay, after that brief word from our sponsor, back to day 4.
Later in our trip, we will see posters in the rail stations that as far as we could tell, were of photos of Japan's most wanted.
But even before we saw these posters, we knew there was crime in Japan. Because on day 4 (is Japan like China, wherein 4 is an unlucky number?) the infamous Umbrella Thief of Kyoto struck.
We had returned from Ginkakuji, the Silver Pavilion - which no doubt helped remind us that our own silver, or at least our yen, was getting low, and it was time to find an ATM. It being a Saturday and a Saturday afternoon at that, the Post Office was closed. (tip: It's easy to find post offices, the signs look like a red capital 'T' with a underscore or hyphen over the top of the 'T'.) Anyway, we decided to drop off our day pack at our apartment and into the bargain, borrow a second umbrella from our landlord to supplement our own, since by now the proverbial cats and dogs were coming down in earnest. Sharing an umbrella is romantic, but under such circumstances, also makes for a damp experience.
So reinforced with a second umbrella, it was off to the 7-11, one of the few places we had heard would take foreign ATM cards. As we approached, we noted that a stand for wet umbrellas sat outside the entrance to the store. Later we were to discover that other stores provide plastic bags to carry one's wet umbrella in - and today, we were given a good reason why one should use a plastic bag instead of the stand. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
After completing our transaction at the ATM, we returned to find that our umbrella was still in the stand, but our landlord's umbrella was missing, and a broken one standing insolently in its place.
Later, when confessing our careless loss of his property, our landlord reassured us his was not an expensive umbrella, and not to worry. Which was kind of him. However, I was not so disposed to forgive the thief him or herself. I am given to understand that most Japanese aren't Christian, and therefore likely do not believe in hell. But I am given to understand that many are Buddhists, and thus believe in karma. Our umbrella thief, therefore, should in this life or the next suffer an inverted umbrella at the very next opportunity. (We shall overlook the possibility that his own brolly inverting was what inspired him to a life of crime in the first place, it is the principle of justice that counts.)
So woe unto you, the Umbrella Thieves of Zion - or should that be, Gion.
And here endeth Day 4.
Later in our trip, we will see posters in the rail stations that as far as we could tell, were of photos of Japan's most wanted.
But even before we saw these posters, we knew there was crime in Japan. Because on day 4 (is Japan like China, wherein 4 is an unlucky number?) the infamous Umbrella Thief of Kyoto struck.
We had returned from Ginkakuji, the Silver Pavilion - which no doubt helped remind us that our own silver, or at least our yen, was getting low, and it was time to find an ATM. It being a Saturday and a Saturday afternoon at that, the Post Office was closed. (tip: It's easy to find post offices, the signs look like a red capital 'T' with a underscore or hyphen over the top of the 'T'.) Anyway, we decided to drop off our day pack at our apartment and into the bargain, borrow a second umbrella from our landlord to supplement our own, since by now the proverbial cats and dogs were coming down in earnest. Sharing an umbrella is romantic, but under such circumstances, also makes for a damp experience.
So reinforced with a second umbrella, it was off to the 7-11, one of the few places we had heard would take foreign ATM cards. As we approached, we noted that a stand for wet umbrellas sat outside the entrance to the store. Later we were to discover that other stores provide plastic bags to carry one's wet umbrella in - and today, we were given a good reason why one should use a plastic bag instead of the stand. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
After completing our transaction at the ATM, we returned to find that our umbrella was still in the stand, but our landlord's umbrella was missing, and a broken one standing insolently in its place.
Later, when confessing our careless loss of his property, our landlord reassured us his was not an expensive umbrella, and not to worry. Which was kind of him. However, I was not so disposed to forgive the thief him or herself. I am given to understand that most Japanese aren't Christian, and therefore likely do not believe in hell. But I am given to understand that many are Buddhists, and thus believe in karma. Our umbrella thief, therefore, should in this life or the next suffer an inverted umbrella at the very next opportunity. (We shall overlook the possibility that his own brolly inverting was what inspired him to a life of crime in the first place, it is the principle of justice that counts.)
So woe unto you, the Umbrella Thieves of Zion - or should that be, Gion.
And here endeth Day 4.
Apr 24th, 2013, 03:24 PM
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Hello Mara, glad you are enjoying it. Also hello to Marija and ShelleyK, I think I forgot you the first time around.
Sorry Gertie, we didn't make it to Kobe, though we ran into many who did, it does sound like a fine place.
*************
Day 5 - Kyoto, day 3. It is drizzly today and chilly into the bargain. Well, maybe that will keep the crowds down, which is important because today we are off to Kiyomizudera.
We hike our way up the street - ah, here it is - and up the stairs to the temple and its famous verandah, noting happily en route the beautiful weeping cherry tree at the temple entrance. Up on the verandah we find a few early morning worshippers buying what we assume are prayers painted on pieces of paper or light wooden sticks. Presumably this is the equivalent of paying to light a candle in Catholic churches. Other worshippers approach what I at first take to be a large ceramic cooking pot, until it dawns upon me that this is not a pot but a bell, but inverted compared to the way I normally see a bell. That is, the open part is facing upward and the closed part sits on the ground, with the clapper not hanging from the inside surface of the bell but grasped and swung as a separate object against an outside surface of the bell by the bell-ringer or worshipper. Later we'll see much bigger bells that require a pulled rope to draw back much, much bigger clappers, but even with those the clapper strikes the outside surface of the bell and not the inner, as we from the West are used to seeing.
We descend many steps and find people waiting to fill long handled dippers under streams of water, there from which to drink. Drinking the water is supposed to ensure good health, although I note the pragmatic hedge of the provision of an ultraviolet light chamber in which to store the dippers in between use.
From there it is back up the steps to make our way over to the famous Jinja (?) shrine. I confess myself confused by this shrine: the Kyomizudera temple itself seems a very serious place, with people lining up first to ring the aforementioned bell and then to pray to a god or gods - but here at this shrine, vendors are selling good luck charms and an invitation is made to undertake a ritual that will assure one luck in love. And look, over here, looking like a stone version of the chocolate Easter bunny sold by Lindt, is a statue of a rabbit. What gives? And then I remember that Western churches are no different, they are not always places of serious cerebral contemplation but have their bits of 'kitsch' thrown in as well, like supposedly 'weeping' statues of Mary and miraculous visions attested to here and there. But still I am annoyed with myself for not doing more research before we came. For one thing, I would understand why the little stone figures we found on a nearby hillside sport not just red bibs, but yellow and blue bibs as well.
Somehow in the confusion of looking for a washroom (the perpetual quest of all travellers) we forgot about Sannen-zaka and Ninen-zaka and just head back down the street we came, which is apparently called Chawan-zaka, or teapot lane. After sharing a rice dish in a rather pricey cafe overlooking this street, we check out the vendors who were still closed when we first arrived. One offers us a free sample of some kind of sweet - since we were expecting flaky pastry, we were taken aback by this, our first taste of mochi. At another kiosk we try a green tea flavoured popover type cream bun - like the chocolate bar filled with green tea flavoured creme, we find it edible but otherwise a taste we haven't yet acquired. Which is unfortunate, because it is clear by now that the Japanese are wild about green tea - it flavours everything, from Kit Kat bars to ice cream.
Wary of getting lost on the buses, we hoof it to our next stop, Sanjusangendo. Meanwhile on this cold Sunday in sakura season the tourists - mainly Japanese - are arriving in earnest to visit Kiyomizudera, busloads and busloads of them. Indeed, we were wise to turn up early.
Sorry Gertie, we didn't make it to Kobe, though we ran into many who did, it does sound like a fine place.
*************
Day 5 - Kyoto, day 3. It is drizzly today and chilly into the bargain. Well, maybe that will keep the crowds down, which is important because today we are off to Kiyomizudera.
We hike our way up the street - ah, here it is - and up the stairs to the temple and its famous verandah, noting happily en route the beautiful weeping cherry tree at the temple entrance. Up on the verandah we find a few early morning worshippers buying what we assume are prayers painted on pieces of paper or light wooden sticks. Presumably this is the equivalent of paying to light a candle in Catholic churches. Other worshippers approach what I at first take to be a large ceramic cooking pot, until it dawns upon me that this is not a pot but a bell, but inverted compared to the way I normally see a bell. That is, the open part is facing upward and the closed part sits on the ground, with the clapper not hanging from the inside surface of the bell but grasped and swung as a separate object against an outside surface of the bell by the bell-ringer or worshipper. Later we'll see much bigger bells that require a pulled rope to draw back much, much bigger clappers, but even with those the clapper strikes the outside surface of the bell and not the inner, as we from the West are used to seeing.
We descend many steps and find people waiting to fill long handled dippers under streams of water, there from which to drink. Drinking the water is supposed to ensure good health, although I note the pragmatic hedge of the provision of an ultraviolet light chamber in which to store the dippers in between use.
From there it is back up the steps to make our way over to the famous Jinja (?) shrine. I confess myself confused by this shrine: the Kyomizudera temple itself seems a very serious place, with people lining up first to ring the aforementioned bell and then to pray to a god or gods - but here at this shrine, vendors are selling good luck charms and an invitation is made to undertake a ritual that will assure one luck in love. And look, over here, looking like a stone version of the chocolate Easter bunny sold by Lindt, is a statue of a rabbit. What gives? And then I remember that Western churches are no different, they are not always places of serious cerebral contemplation but have their bits of 'kitsch' thrown in as well, like supposedly 'weeping' statues of Mary and miraculous visions attested to here and there. But still I am annoyed with myself for not doing more research before we came. For one thing, I would understand why the little stone figures we found on a nearby hillside sport not just red bibs, but yellow and blue bibs as well.
Somehow in the confusion of looking for a washroom (the perpetual quest of all travellers) we forgot about Sannen-zaka and Ninen-zaka and just head back down the street we came, which is apparently called Chawan-zaka, or teapot lane. After sharing a rice dish in a rather pricey cafe overlooking this street, we check out the vendors who were still closed when we first arrived. One offers us a free sample of some kind of sweet - since we were expecting flaky pastry, we were taken aback by this, our first taste of mochi. At another kiosk we try a green tea flavoured popover type cream bun - like the chocolate bar filled with green tea flavoured creme, we find it edible but otherwise a taste we haven't yet acquired. Which is unfortunate, because it is clear by now that the Japanese are wild about green tea - it flavours everything, from Kit Kat bars to ice cream.
Wary of getting lost on the buses, we hoof it to our next stop, Sanjusangendo. Meanwhile on this cold Sunday in sakura season the tourists - mainly Japanese - are arriving in earnest to visit Kiyomizudera, busloads and busloads of them. Indeed, we were wise to turn up early.
Apr 25th, 2013, 08:33 AM
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7 Apr, day 5 (cont'd)
We arrive at Sanjusangendo and my first thought is of a film I love, The Gods Must Be Crazy. Except that here, the Gods, or at least their guardians, must be Dusty. I don't quite know why, given the otherwise scrupulous cleanliness of this country, but the twenty-eight cypress-carved 'guardian' statues that stand in front of the multiple Kannon statues definitely look like they could use a whisk of a dust cloth. Maybe the statues are too delicate to withstand much cleaning. Maybe only priests can touch them, and they are too preoccupied with higher things to do much in the way of dusting. Or maybe the job was delegated to a priestly assistant who defaulted in favour of watching one of the famed archery contests I've heard take place outside this, the longest wooden structure in Japan.
Clearly this focus on the mundane will not do, I need to call upon my imagination to recreate the sense of awe that pilgrims of old must have felt as they filed by these statues. I imagine ordinary folk, from kagas (porters) to rice planters to housewives, saving up their pennies for a trip to see this, which probably is the Buddhist equivalent of all those soaring cathedrals I've seen in Europe. I imagine the gold on the statues made all the more brilliant when lit by flickering torches, I think of the awe wrought in the worshippers as they contemplate the Shinto god Rajin, complete with a set of drums to make thunder. I bear down hard, and slowly my imagination starts to do its job.
Outside the main hall though the real treat awaits - the sight of arrow marks in the wood, made when arrows were shot there during contests held centuries ago. There's also a well nearby with a sign indicating the purity and loveliness of the water that sprang therefrom. Unhappily a more recent sign sits beside it, and declares - in both English and Japanese - NOT POTABLE. I guess as in so many instances in life one can have one's symbolism, just don't examine it too closely.
Since we're in the neighbourhood of the station, we scope it out so as to smooth our departure in a couple days time. Then we grab the subway and head for the Heian shrine. I was torn, as I am beginning to realize just how quickly four and a half days will go by in Kyoto, and I'm wondering when to pencil in the Fushima Inari Shrine. However, for now we head to the Heian shrine not only because it is close to our apartment ( a plus on this chilly day) but it will have good blossom viewing. And it does, and we enjoy every petal, even though the place, being a Sunday, is quite crowded.
and here endeth day five.
We arrive at Sanjusangendo and my first thought is of a film I love, The Gods Must Be Crazy. Except that here, the Gods, or at least their guardians, must be Dusty. I don't quite know why, given the otherwise scrupulous cleanliness of this country, but the twenty-eight cypress-carved 'guardian' statues that stand in front of the multiple Kannon statues definitely look like they could use a whisk of a dust cloth. Maybe the statues are too delicate to withstand much cleaning. Maybe only priests can touch them, and they are too preoccupied with higher things to do much in the way of dusting. Or maybe the job was delegated to a priestly assistant who defaulted in favour of watching one of the famed archery contests I've heard take place outside this, the longest wooden structure in Japan.
Clearly this focus on the mundane will not do, I need to call upon my imagination to recreate the sense of awe that pilgrims of old must have felt as they filed by these statues. I imagine ordinary folk, from kagas (porters) to rice planters to housewives, saving up their pennies for a trip to see this, which probably is the Buddhist equivalent of all those soaring cathedrals I've seen in Europe. I imagine the gold on the statues made all the more brilliant when lit by flickering torches, I think of the awe wrought in the worshippers as they contemplate the Shinto god Rajin, complete with a set of drums to make thunder. I bear down hard, and slowly my imagination starts to do its job.
Outside the main hall though the real treat awaits - the sight of arrow marks in the wood, made when arrows were shot there during contests held centuries ago. There's also a well nearby with a sign indicating the purity and loveliness of the water that sprang therefrom. Unhappily a more recent sign sits beside it, and declares - in both English and Japanese - NOT POTABLE. I guess as in so many instances in life one can have one's symbolism, just don't examine it too closely.
Since we're in the neighbourhood of the station, we scope it out so as to smooth our departure in a couple days time. Then we grab the subway and head for the Heian shrine. I was torn, as I am beginning to realize just how quickly four and a half days will go by in Kyoto, and I'm wondering when to pencil in the Fushima Inari Shrine. However, for now we head to the Heian shrine not only because it is close to our apartment ( a plus on this chilly day) but it will have good blossom viewing. And it does, and we enjoy every petal, even though the place, being a Sunday, is quite crowded.
and here endeth day five.
Apr 25th, 2013, 09:00 AM
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8 Apr, day eight
It's sunny - at last - today, and in the nick of time, as today we are hoping to see Kinkakuji.
The buses in Kyoto are as slow as I'd heard them to be, so we hope to get a head start by taking the subway to Kitaoji, which proves to be simple enough. But once at Kitaoji we find ourselves in the small bus station behind at least thirty Japanese women, who are waiting for we know not what bus. As a result, we let two buses go by, waiting for them to board first. In due course they board a bus and we take the next one, and alight when the automated voice announces we are at Kinkakuji something something bus stop.
Having previously scoped out the area around Kinkakuji on Google Street view, I'm confused by the scene around me, which looks nothing like. Out comes the compass, but I'm still confused. Only when I decide that temples and villas are invariably built higher rather than lower on a hillside, do we get our bearings.
And as we approach the entrance to the famous temple, that's when I realize that there are TWO bus stops for Kinkakuji, each used by different bus lines; I'd been expecting to arrive at Kinkakuji MAE, the stop I'd scoped out on google, but we in fact arrived at Kinkakuji MICHI, which as we found was a few minutes walk away.
http://tinyurl.com/b2molal
This temple was once a villa, and it shows. In fact, it reminds me of some oriental version of a Canadian summer cottage - with the notable exception that the latter rarely features walls covered in gold leaf. There's even what appears to be a boat dock, or even a swimming dock. It became a temple, only when it was donated for the purpose.
This is a lovely place to spend time, with a place where one can be served 'matcha' tea (we passed this time) along with the usual stalls selling charms and so forth. Also for the first time we see and smell a brazier for the purpose of burning incense. Believers waft the smoke of the incense toward themselves - it's said that it has healing properties, although I prefer to think of this as purely a soothing ritual.
From here we board another bus - at Kinkakuji MAE this time - bound for Arashiyama. This requires a change of buses roughly half way, but no worries, the change point is both quiet and well signposted.
Later in the trip, we'll see other bamboo stands, but the one in Arashiyama stands out for two reasons: the sheer size of the grass (?) and the fact that two Maiko happened to decide to visit the grove that day. I'd never have asked them to pose for photos but some Japanese did, and so we availed ourselves of the opportunity. They're not in full makeup, possibly because this is the middle of the day, or perhaps they are partly on 'holiday'. Whatever, it made for a colourful scene.
We stroll back down the hill through the gardens of Tenruji, once more admiring the sakura, and why not - having worried so much that we'd missed them, we intend to enjoy them. Exiting the garden, we are relaxed enough to enjoy the details of a few temple outbuildings, such as the gargoyle-like feature we see on one of the rooves.
It is taking longer than expected to get around from place to place, but our next stop - Nijo - was reasonably easy to access after the morning's challenges with buses: we grab a train at Arashiyama station, get off at the Nijo stop, walk a short distance to the subway stop of the same name, and get off at Nijo-Mae stop. I don't know what "Mae" means but so far this makes it twice that the "Mae" version of a stop delivers the goods, so to speak.
I should note here as a tip that we didn't buy either the bus pass or subway pass but simply paid as we went, because we used no one means of transport to a degree that would pay off a pass, and indeed sometimes used trains, as noted.
It's sunny - at last - today, and in the nick of time, as today we are hoping to see Kinkakuji.
The buses in Kyoto are as slow as I'd heard them to be, so we hope to get a head start by taking the subway to Kitaoji, which proves to be simple enough. But once at Kitaoji we find ourselves in the small bus station behind at least thirty Japanese women, who are waiting for we know not what bus. As a result, we let two buses go by, waiting for them to board first. In due course they board a bus and we take the next one, and alight when the automated voice announces we are at Kinkakuji something something bus stop.
Having previously scoped out the area around Kinkakuji on Google Street view, I'm confused by the scene around me, which looks nothing like. Out comes the compass, but I'm still confused. Only when I decide that temples and villas are invariably built higher rather than lower on a hillside, do we get our bearings.
And as we approach the entrance to the famous temple, that's when I realize that there are TWO bus stops for Kinkakuji, each used by different bus lines; I'd been expecting to arrive at Kinkakuji MAE, the stop I'd scoped out on google, but we in fact arrived at Kinkakuji MICHI, which as we found was a few minutes walk away.
http://tinyurl.com/b2molal
This temple was once a villa, and it shows. In fact, it reminds me of some oriental version of a Canadian summer cottage - with the notable exception that the latter rarely features walls covered in gold leaf. There's even what appears to be a boat dock, or even a swimming dock. It became a temple, only when it was donated for the purpose.
This is a lovely place to spend time, with a place where one can be served 'matcha' tea (we passed this time) along with the usual stalls selling charms and so forth. Also for the first time we see and smell a brazier for the purpose of burning incense. Believers waft the smoke of the incense toward themselves - it's said that it has healing properties, although I prefer to think of this as purely a soothing ritual.
From here we board another bus - at Kinkakuji MAE this time - bound for Arashiyama. This requires a change of buses roughly half way, but no worries, the change point is both quiet and well signposted.
Later in the trip, we'll see other bamboo stands, but the one in Arashiyama stands out for two reasons: the sheer size of the grass (?) and the fact that two Maiko happened to decide to visit the grove that day. I'd never have asked them to pose for photos but some Japanese did, and so we availed ourselves of the opportunity. They're not in full makeup, possibly because this is the middle of the day, or perhaps they are partly on 'holiday'. Whatever, it made for a colourful scene.
We stroll back down the hill through the gardens of Tenruji, once more admiring the sakura, and why not - having worried so much that we'd missed them, we intend to enjoy them. Exiting the garden, we are relaxed enough to enjoy the details of a few temple outbuildings, such as the gargoyle-like feature we see on one of the rooves.
It is taking longer than expected to get around from place to place, but our next stop - Nijo - was reasonably easy to access after the morning's challenges with buses: we grab a train at Arashiyama station, get off at the Nijo stop, walk a short distance to the subway stop of the same name, and get off at Nijo-Mae stop. I don't know what "Mae" means but so far this makes it twice that the "Mae" version of a stop delivers the goods, so to speak.
I should note here as a tip that we didn't buy either the bus pass or subway pass but simply paid as we went, because we used no one means of transport to a degree that would pay off a pass, and indeed sometimes used trains, as noted.
Apr 25th, 2013, 09:16 AM
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8 April, day six - cont'd
Spouse loves Nijo. He loves it because it features mannequins inside who give a clue as to how the various rooms inside this castle/residence were actually used.
Nijo is noted for its 'nightingale floors' and indeed they obligingly squeak as we and other visitors stride across them in our slippered feet. The floors were supposedly deliberately designed to squeak as a defense device, but I have other theories. You see, the floors in my 1920s era house squeak too, and to the best of my knowledge, my house never housed a Shogun. So here's what I think: I think the carpenter and/or the carpenter apprentices goofed, and used green wood when constructing the place. With the result that as the boards shrank, they began to squeak. Carpenter opted to save his head - in those days, his objective would be literal - by insisting that the sound was all part of the plan, so to speak. Or squeak. That's my theory, and I'm sticking to it.
Nijo features a lot of painted screens/sliding doors featuring fine gold leaf and paintings of cedars and cranes and so forth. The only trouble for me is, that the artist seemed to confine his subject matter to, well, cedars and cranes and so forth. But they are, as noted, fine representations of cedars and cranes.
The afternoon is drawing on and the shadows are getting longer, making it easy to imagine, if one so chooses, ranks of samurai guards assembling in the courtyards outside, or black-clothed ninja trying to launch an assault on the massive stone walls surrounding the moat. The weeping cherry blossoms in the gardens here are superb, and I note one visitor -evidently from Russia - systematically shooting photos of just about every tree. Poor soul, I can identify - no doubt those photos will give comfort on some long winter day.
Just before we exit Nijo, we come across a vendor selling a concoction evidently a sweet, since a strawberry is inserted therein. This is our second forae into the world of mochi, and this time we like it. I make a mental note to try to buy a box or two of the stuff before we depart Japan. Only trouble is, vendors gift box everything, it seems, in Japan, so I am a tad worried I'll end by buying a beautifully gift wrapped box of oh, pickled vegetables or something. So I pass for the time being.
And here endeth day six.
Spouse loves Nijo. He loves it because it features mannequins inside who give a clue as to how the various rooms inside this castle/residence were actually used.
Nijo is noted for its 'nightingale floors' and indeed they obligingly squeak as we and other visitors stride across them in our slippered feet. The floors were supposedly deliberately designed to squeak as a defense device, but I have other theories. You see, the floors in my 1920s era house squeak too, and to the best of my knowledge, my house never housed a Shogun. So here's what I think: I think the carpenter and/or the carpenter apprentices goofed, and used green wood when constructing the place. With the result that as the boards shrank, they began to squeak. Carpenter opted to save his head - in those days, his objective would be literal - by insisting that the sound was all part of the plan, so to speak. Or squeak. That's my theory, and I'm sticking to it.
Nijo features a lot of painted screens/sliding doors featuring fine gold leaf and paintings of cedars and cranes and so forth. The only trouble for me is, that the artist seemed to confine his subject matter to, well, cedars and cranes and so forth. But they are, as noted, fine representations of cedars and cranes.
The afternoon is drawing on and the shadows are getting longer, making it easy to imagine, if one so chooses, ranks of samurai guards assembling in the courtyards outside, or black-clothed ninja trying to launch an assault on the massive stone walls surrounding the moat. The weeping cherry blossoms in the gardens here are superb, and I note one visitor -evidently from Russia - systematically shooting photos of just about every tree. Poor soul, I can identify - no doubt those photos will give comfort on some long winter day.
Just before we exit Nijo, we come across a vendor selling a concoction evidently a sweet, since a strawberry is inserted therein. This is our second forae into the world of mochi, and this time we like it. I make a mental note to try to buy a box or two of the stuff before we depart Japan. Only trouble is, vendors gift box everything, it seems, in Japan, so I am a tad worried I'll end by buying a beautifully gift wrapped box of oh, pickled vegetables or something. So I pass for the time being.
And here endeth day six.
Apr 25th, 2013, 09:52 AM
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9 April, day seven, Kyoto day 5
Today we were slated to go to Osaka and take in the peace museum on the grounds of Osaka castle, and perhaps catch a bit of Fushimi Inari on the return. But we just aren't in the mood for hiking to a big city today, and so I sketch out plans to patch in the peace museum sometime en route between Nagoya and Okayama, later in the trip.
Instead, after folding up the latest laundry round and other housekeeping chores, we head to Kyoto station and buy a platform ticket to Hikone, roughly 1000 yen each.
At Hikone we find a delightful place for lunch just by following our noses outside the station. It's a simple affair - an appetizer of three, well, we know not what, but it tasted fine - followed by generous bowls of rice and beef, and a large pot of tea. Then it's up to Hikone castle, and oh, the sight of the reflected cherry blossoms in the water is a sight to behold.
After climbing up the not inconsiderable ascent, we notice that tea is on offer in a tiny outbuilding. Entering, we find a kimono-clad lady gesturing us to take our places on a pair of tatami mats in the tiny room. What follows is not a full tea ceremony, of course - the full affair I understand can run for several hours, and certainly would cost a lot more than the 500 yen apiece we have forked out. But the scene is so perfect - the castle and cherry trees are visible through the windows, a scroll hangs on the side of the tiny room, and the sweet is served on a small plate of the most intense scarlet red, while the electric green of the tea is set off by the blue bowls in which it is served. The sweet, a kind of crystallized version of the mochi treat we had yesterday, is the perfect accompaniment to the bitter tea. There are only two others taking tea in the tiny room, so all in all it made for a very intimate, if simple, version of taking tea in Japan.
In the gardens surrounding the castle is a couple walking their dogs, one of which is a chocolate lab. I have noticed before the fuss made over dogs in this country, and the lab and his companion are no exception - everyone wants to pet them. No doubt it is in part because few people can afford the space for such pets.
It's an absolutely perfect day, and the view over Lake Biwa is reasonably clear, even from within the castle keep (which involves climbing some ladder like steps.) Hikone castle may not compare with Himeji, but as the latter is under restoration, this one at least is a restoration, i.e. it isn't a reconstruction of ferro-concrete like Osaka's castle. It features things like a tenbin yagura - 'balance scale turret' - and cleverly hidden access points for weapons that were plastered over on the outside so as to be invisible: teppozama (for guns) and yazama (for arrows). There was a museum we could have also visited, but, bewitched by the gardens below the castle, we ran out of time.
This being our last day in Kyoto, we decide to take an evening walk through Gion-Pontocho area - we enjoy the bright red lanterns and the illuminated cherry trees, but otherwise find that this is mainly an area of pricey restaurants. Which is all very well, if one is looking for that sort of thing.
Tomorrow is our maiden voyage on a Shinkansen, and we must fortify ourselves with rest.
and here ended day seven.
Today we were slated to go to Osaka and take in the peace museum on the grounds of Osaka castle, and perhaps catch a bit of Fushimi Inari on the return. But we just aren't in the mood for hiking to a big city today, and so I sketch out plans to patch in the peace museum sometime en route between Nagoya and Okayama, later in the trip.
Instead, after folding up the latest laundry round and other housekeeping chores, we head to Kyoto station and buy a platform ticket to Hikone, roughly 1000 yen each.
At Hikone we find a delightful place for lunch just by following our noses outside the station. It's a simple affair - an appetizer of three, well, we know not what, but it tasted fine - followed by generous bowls of rice and beef, and a large pot of tea. Then it's up to Hikone castle, and oh, the sight of the reflected cherry blossoms in the water is a sight to behold.
After climbing up the not inconsiderable ascent, we notice that tea is on offer in a tiny outbuilding. Entering, we find a kimono-clad lady gesturing us to take our places on a pair of tatami mats in the tiny room. What follows is not a full tea ceremony, of course - the full affair I understand can run for several hours, and certainly would cost a lot more than the 500 yen apiece we have forked out. But the scene is so perfect - the castle and cherry trees are visible through the windows, a scroll hangs on the side of the tiny room, and the sweet is served on a small plate of the most intense scarlet red, while the electric green of the tea is set off by the blue bowls in which it is served. The sweet, a kind of crystallized version of the mochi treat we had yesterday, is the perfect accompaniment to the bitter tea. There are only two others taking tea in the tiny room, so all in all it made for a very intimate, if simple, version of taking tea in Japan.
In the gardens surrounding the castle is a couple walking their dogs, one of which is a chocolate lab. I have noticed before the fuss made over dogs in this country, and the lab and his companion are no exception - everyone wants to pet them. No doubt it is in part because few people can afford the space for such pets.
It's an absolutely perfect day, and the view over Lake Biwa is reasonably clear, even from within the castle keep (which involves climbing some ladder like steps.) Hikone castle may not compare with Himeji, but as the latter is under restoration, this one at least is a restoration, i.e. it isn't a reconstruction of ferro-concrete like Osaka's castle. It features things like a tenbin yagura - 'balance scale turret' - and cleverly hidden access points for weapons that were plastered over on the outside so as to be invisible: teppozama (for guns) and yazama (for arrows). There was a museum we could have also visited, but, bewitched by the gardens below the castle, we ran out of time.
This being our last day in Kyoto, we decide to take an evening walk through Gion-Pontocho area - we enjoy the bright red lanterns and the illuminated cherry trees, but otherwise find that this is mainly an area of pricey restaurants. Which is all very well, if one is looking for that sort of thing.
Tomorrow is our maiden voyage on a Shinkansen, and we must fortify ourselves with rest.
and here ended day seven.
Apr 25th, 2013, 10:10 AM
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10 April, day eight
Kyoto to Takayama
Sakura season may be on the wane in Kyoto, but it is coming into full peak on the lower altitudes of the Japanese alps. However, as we reach the higher altitudes of Takayama, it is clear that it is as yet too early for cherry blossoms. Which isn't surprising, as it is cold.
We've taken a room at the Associa Takayama Resort for the next couple of nights, and while this is not a cheap hotel, there is value to be had. We more or less simply kill time until we can check in, because we are anxious to try our first hot springs bath. This hotel has a special wing featuring two full floors of baths, one for each gender, with the floor assigned to each alternating on successive days. As we discover, each floor features up to twelve (depending on how one counts them) steaming hot baths of every description, and most of them are outdoors and, being on either the fifth or seventh floor of the hotel, feature splendid views of the city of Takayama and surrounding mounhtains. My favourite is the 'infinity pool' type bath which is almost large enough to swim in, and from which one evening I watch as first the skies reflect the sunset, and then the lights come on. The outdoor air is chilly, as I said, and so the steam rises enticingly from each and every bath. Ah, but I could get used to this! I also love the yukata supplied by the hotel - I wish I could buy a set, but they don't seem to be offered for sale.
The one thing that mars this day is that emboldened by our experience in Hikone, we went in search of a rice bowl style restaurant, and ended up picking a place near the station that served our worst meal of Japan. Oh well, one can't win 'em all.
11 April, day nine
Breakfast this morning is a buffet affair that is included in our rate. The hotel caters to both Japanese and gaijin, and so the items on offer are varied. I try things like fermented soy beans, pickled vegetables, and grilled fish for breakfast, but only tiny portions of each: the rest of my plate features more familiar fare.
We learned yesterday that the local bus at the train station can be confusing, as it shares a stop with a bus that is NOT local. In any case we dawdled so long at the included breakfast buffet that we miss the hotel shuttle bus to the station for that hour of the day, and decide to indulge in a taxi to take us to Hida no Sato, the recreated folk village.
This will be one of the highlights of our trip to Japan. The night before, a light dusting of snow fell, and as our cab drops us off, snow is still visible on the thatched rooves of the farmhouses. Over the course of the entire morning we see maybe twelve people visiting this site, which is as informative as it is beautiful. But it is cold: I'm wearing a light but long sleeved cotton shirt, a cotton vest, cotton cardigan, light gore-tex jacket with hood pulled up over a hat, corduroy trousers, and mitts, and I'm only just warm enough.
Kyoto to Takayama
Sakura season may be on the wane in Kyoto, but it is coming into full peak on the lower altitudes of the Japanese alps. However, as we reach the higher altitudes of Takayama, it is clear that it is as yet too early for cherry blossoms. Which isn't surprising, as it is cold.
We've taken a room at the Associa Takayama Resort for the next couple of nights, and while this is not a cheap hotel, there is value to be had. We more or less simply kill time until we can check in, because we are anxious to try our first hot springs bath. This hotel has a special wing featuring two full floors of baths, one for each gender, with the floor assigned to each alternating on successive days. As we discover, each floor features up to twelve (depending on how one counts them) steaming hot baths of every description, and most of them are outdoors and, being on either the fifth or seventh floor of the hotel, feature splendid views of the city of Takayama and surrounding mounhtains. My favourite is the 'infinity pool' type bath which is almost large enough to swim in, and from which one evening I watch as first the skies reflect the sunset, and then the lights come on. The outdoor air is chilly, as I said, and so the steam rises enticingly from each and every bath. Ah, but I could get used to this! I also love the yukata supplied by the hotel - I wish I could buy a set, but they don't seem to be offered for sale.
The one thing that mars this day is that emboldened by our experience in Hikone, we went in search of a rice bowl style restaurant, and ended up picking a place near the station that served our worst meal of Japan. Oh well, one can't win 'em all.
11 April, day nine
Breakfast this morning is a buffet affair that is included in our rate. The hotel caters to both Japanese and gaijin, and so the items on offer are varied. I try things like fermented soy beans, pickled vegetables, and grilled fish for breakfast, but only tiny portions of each: the rest of my plate features more familiar fare.
We learned yesterday that the local bus at the train station can be confusing, as it shares a stop with a bus that is NOT local. In any case we dawdled so long at the included breakfast buffet that we miss the hotel shuttle bus to the station for that hour of the day, and decide to indulge in a taxi to take us to Hida no Sato, the recreated folk village.
This will be one of the highlights of our trip to Japan. The night before, a light dusting of snow fell, and as our cab drops us off, snow is still visible on the thatched rooves of the farmhouses. Over the course of the entire morning we see maybe twelve people visiting this site, which is as informative as it is beautiful. But it is cold: I'm wearing a light but long sleeved cotton shirt, a cotton vest, cotton cardigan, light gore-tex jacket with hood pulled up over a hat, corduroy trousers, and mitts, and I'm only just warm enough.
Apr 25th, 2013, 10:21 AM
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Just a couple of thoughts as I read along: you can buy yukatas quite cheaply in department stores, probably on the bargain counters on the top floors. I take mine everywhere. Re getting pretty sweets to take home, wait until you get to the airport. There the staff will speak English and you can be sure of what you are getting. And there is a huge variety to choose from.
You probably know all this by now though!
This trip report is bringing back nice memories.
You probably know all this by now though!
This trip report is bringing back nice memories.
Apr 25th, 2013, 11:52 AM
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Gertie, that was the funny thing. On our last evening, literally hours before we set out for the airport, we stopped in at Mitzukoshi (?) that high-end department store, certain that they would have yukata - and they told us they didn't! At least in their food court we were able to pick up some sweets. But I wanted more (sweets that is) and so I set out to find some at Haneda airport. The stores that were open (ours was a late night flight) didn't carry the ones that I was seeking. Lots of what looked like pickled vegetables in plastic stored in giant coolers though (who buys that stuff, and do they consume it right away?)
I wish now I'd bought more sweets when I saw boxes and boxes of the stuff I wanted. But I was worried I'd eat the sweets before they ever made it home (knowing me, this is a real hazard...)
As for the yukata, all I can say is that the hotels are missing a business opportunity, I'd have bought the Takayama hotel one on the spot, such a pretty pattern of bamboo leaves. Oh well.
I wish now I'd bought more sweets when I saw boxes and boxes of the stuff I wanted. But I was worried I'd eat the sweets before they ever made it home (knowing me, this is a real hazard...)
As for the yukata, all I can say is that the hotels are missing a business opportunity, I'd have bought the Takayama hotel one on the spot, such a pretty pattern of bamboo leaves. Oh well.
Apr 25th, 2013, 12:31 PM
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11 April, day nine Takayama (continued)
I've been to folk museums before but it is most decidedly a first for me to visit one where I have to remove my shoes before touring some exhibits. Note to self - wear two layers of socks next time. Because I am reminded most forcefully that the floor is inches from the ground, and it is chilly walking on those floors.
A few fires have been lit in the various farmhouses, but just barely (staff must be worried about sparks and accidents) - and the 'fireplaces' consist of just sunken sand pits cut out of the floors; smoke, we are told, is allowed to rise and permeate the thatched rooves to help keep them free of insects. So, no chimneys.
I have mixed emotions touring this place. I admire the ingenuity of people who were extremely resourceful - as one had to be to scratch out a living this way - but I am also appalled by how hard their lives must have been.
Two displays stand out. One is a display of sledges, and I am impressed with the ingenuity of the various designs. But it is also clear that the work of using sledges to bring down heavy loads of logs from the upper mountains was incredibly dangerous. The other display of note was one adjoining a water wheel: it was a small communal factory for producing starch from bracken (ferns.) I think of how I can buy starch for literally pennies a box - and this in 2013 - and I am appalled at the labour that had to be expended to make starch, a critical ingredient at the time in making umbrellas, paper, etc.
The net impression I take away is that this was a life of grinding poverty, and I speculate how, had I been offered an opportunity to go and oh, be a soldier in the expanding Japanese army at the turn of the twentieth century, I might well have jumped at the chance. Certainly the poverty aspect is endorsed by the curators, who note that the arrival of the refrigerator, the washing machine, and the television in the mid fifties spelt the end of this kind of existence. The washing machine meant that traditional clothes were replaced by those more suitable for automatic washing; the fridge allowed considerable expansion in the range of foods consumed; and the TV taught young people that a better life was to be had in the cities. And who, thought I as we left, could blame them.
In search of lunch, we walk down the hill from Hida no Sato, and run into the Hida Takayama museum of art. We are soon lunching in, of all places, the MacKintosh Tea Room - the MacKintosh being Charles Rennie MacKintosh, whose work features in the museum.
This wasn't a must-do on our original list for Takayama, but as we miss the next bus back to town, we decide to spend an hour admiring the glasswork by Lalique and others, and the various Art Nouveau and Art Deco pieces. Later in the trip when we tour the Ghibli museum, I am reminded of this place, since the latter museum has collections of children's books with illustrations clearly influenced by the Art Nouveau movement.
It's thus early afternoon when we make it back to the station, and we hoof it for the Shishi Kaikan, where we catch a demonstration of traditional karakuri, or festival puppets), each notable for a different mechanism of action. Some are operated like marionettes, with strings; some have a clockwork mechanism; still others are operated by rods. I will recall the engineering of these puppets when we visit the Toyota Commemorative Museum of Industry and Technology in Nagoya - but I'm getting ahead of myself.
We catch just one last exhibit in Takayama, the festival Float Museum, complete with film. I am glad I altered our plans to miss the Spring Festival that will be held in a couple of days, I actually think we are getting a better view of festival paraphenalia this way, without the crowds (and the prices!)
There was lots more to do in Takayama, but the day is cold, the afternoon getting on, and the baths at our hotel await.
and here endeth day nine
I've been to folk museums before but it is most decidedly a first for me to visit one where I have to remove my shoes before touring some exhibits. Note to self - wear two layers of socks next time. Because I am reminded most forcefully that the floor is inches from the ground, and it is chilly walking on those floors.
A few fires have been lit in the various farmhouses, but just barely (staff must be worried about sparks and accidents) - and the 'fireplaces' consist of just sunken sand pits cut out of the floors; smoke, we are told, is allowed to rise and permeate the thatched rooves to help keep them free of insects. So, no chimneys.
I have mixed emotions touring this place. I admire the ingenuity of people who were extremely resourceful - as one had to be to scratch out a living this way - but I am also appalled by how hard their lives must have been.
Two displays stand out. One is a display of sledges, and I am impressed with the ingenuity of the various designs. But it is also clear that the work of using sledges to bring down heavy loads of logs from the upper mountains was incredibly dangerous. The other display of note was one adjoining a water wheel: it was a small communal factory for producing starch from bracken (ferns.) I think of how I can buy starch for literally pennies a box - and this in 2013 - and I am appalled at the labour that had to be expended to make starch, a critical ingredient at the time in making umbrellas, paper, etc.
The net impression I take away is that this was a life of grinding poverty, and I speculate how, had I been offered an opportunity to go and oh, be a soldier in the expanding Japanese army at the turn of the twentieth century, I might well have jumped at the chance. Certainly the poverty aspect is endorsed by the curators, who note that the arrival of the refrigerator, the washing machine, and the television in the mid fifties spelt the end of this kind of existence. The washing machine meant that traditional clothes were replaced by those more suitable for automatic washing; the fridge allowed considerable expansion in the range of foods consumed; and the TV taught young people that a better life was to be had in the cities. And who, thought I as we left, could blame them.
In search of lunch, we walk down the hill from Hida no Sato, and run into the Hida Takayama museum of art. We are soon lunching in, of all places, the MacKintosh Tea Room - the MacKintosh being Charles Rennie MacKintosh, whose work features in the museum.
This wasn't a must-do on our original list for Takayama, but as we miss the next bus back to town, we decide to spend an hour admiring the glasswork by Lalique and others, and the various Art Nouveau and Art Deco pieces. Later in the trip when we tour the Ghibli museum, I am reminded of this place, since the latter museum has collections of children's books with illustrations clearly influenced by the Art Nouveau movement.
It's thus early afternoon when we make it back to the station, and we hoof it for the Shishi Kaikan, where we catch a demonstration of traditional karakuri, or festival puppets), each notable for a different mechanism of action. Some are operated like marionettes, with strings; some have a clockwork mechanism; still others are operated by rods. I will recall the engineering of these puppets when we visit the Toyota Commemorative Museum of Industry and Technology in Nagoya - but I'm getting ahead of myself.
We catch just one last exhibit in Takayama, the festival Float Museum, complete with film. I am glad I altered our plans to miss the Spring Festival that will be held in a couple of days, I actually think we are getting a better view of festival paraphenalia this way, without the crowds (and the prices!)
There was lots more to do in Takayama, but the day is cold, the afternoon getting on, and the baths at our hotel await.
and here endeth day nine
Apr 25th, 2013, 12:58 PM
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12 April, day ten: Takayama to Nagoya for two nights
We need our compass to get out of Nagoya station and onto the correct subway, and again in the subway station, which has a lot more exits than we expected. That keychain is proving its worth.
The usual helpful courtesy of the Japanese is in evidence with the employee of the Meitetsu railway who speaks nary a word of English, but intuits when I inquire about 'Sako' that that is the station I seek. He actually goes with us to the machine to help us buy the ticket, and guides us to the correct route to the platform. Either that, or he thinks we're punch drunk, which in our continued jet lag state isn't too far from the case. The point being, that this is one huge station, and must be navigated with care.
On the other end, at the relatively tiny Sako station when we goof and take the wrong exit, another helpful employee arranges for us to get back into the station (without buying another ticket) so that we can take the correct exit for the Toyota Commemorative Museum of Industry and Technology, which is quite a mouthful so I'm called it TCMIT from now on.
The TCMIT turns out to be one of the highlights of our trip to Japan, and the joke is, I chose it as a consolation prize for our not being able to fit in a plant tour at Toyota since the Toyota plant is at some distance from Nagoya centre. This museum isn't just the story of Toyota autos, it is arguably the story of modern Japan, the second Japan of my report title.
On this day, we spent almost three hours here, with much of the time being spent in the Loom section of the museum. You have that right, Toyota was first a weaving firm. For this Canuck who never even saw a cotton plant before, to learn how cotton thread was spun from raw cotton fibres, beginning with the most rudimentary hand-held technology to the most modern high speed equipment, was a fascinating journey. As was it fascinating to see the progression of weaving from using a simple hand shuttle, to watching threads be carried by jets of water in lieu of wooden or metal shuttles, or even simply jets of air. As one who must be one of the last people on the planet to program a computer using punched cards, here too was an example of a Jacquard loom, which arguably was the first programmed machine.
Here was where I learned of the 1923 Kanto earthquake, of how the devastation of that earthquake on railway lines illustrated the application of cars to such situations. Here was where I learned of the importance of a skilled workforce of machinists, if one is to hope to convert to new technology. Here was where I learned, firsthand, of the guts it took to take a gamble, sell a patent on a loom device, and risk the wherewithal to develop an entirely new industry.
We tore ourselves away at closing time and resolved to alter our itinerary to make it possible to come back - we'd barely touched the Automotive Pavilion. But for now, we had to go.
Here endeth day ten.
We need our compass to get out of Nagoya station and onto the correct subway, and again in the subway station, which has a lot more exits than we expected. That keychain is proving its worth.
The usual helpful courtesy of the Japanese is in evidence with the employee of the Meitetsu railway who speaks nary a word of English, but intuits when I inquire about 'Sako' that that is the station I seek. He actually goes with us to the machine to help us buy the ticket, and guides us to the correct route to the platform. Either that, or he thinks we're punch drunk, which in our continued jet lag state isn't too far from the case. The point being, that this is one huge station, and must be navigated with care.
On the other end, at the relatively tiny Sako station when we goof and take the wrong exit, another helpful employee arranges for us to get back into the station (without buying another ticket) so that we can take the correct exit for the Toyota Commemorative Museum of Industry and Technology, which is quite a mouthful so I'm called it TCMIT from now on.
The TCMIT turns out to be one of the highlights of our trip to Japan, and the joke is, I chose it as a consolation prize for our not being able to fit in a plant tour at Toyota since the Toyota plant is at some distance from Nagoya centre. This museum isn't just the story of Toyota autos, it is arguably the story of modern Japan, the second Japan of my report title.
On this day, we spent almost three hours here, with much of the time being spent in the Loom section of the museum. You have that right, Toyota was first a weaving firm. For this Canuck who never even saw a cotton plant before, to learn how cotton thread was spun from raw cotton fibres, beginning with the most rudimentary hand-held technology to the most modern high speed equipment, was a fascinating journey. As was it fascinating to see the progression of weaving from using a simple hand shuttle, to watching threads be carried by jets of water in lieu of wooden or metal shuttles, or even simply jets of air. As one who must be one of the last people on the planet to program a computer using punched cards, here too was an example of a Jacquard loom, which arguably was the first programmed machine.
Here was where I learned of the 1923 Kanto earthquake, of how the devastation of that earthquake on railway lines illustrated the application of cars to such situations. Here was where I learned of the importance of a skilled workforce of machinists, if one is to hope to convert to new technology. Here was where I learned, firsthand, of the guts it took to take a gamble, sell a patent on a loom device, and risk the wherewithal to develop an entirely new industry.
We tore ourselves away at closing time and resolved to alter our itinerary to make it possible to come back - we'd barely touched the Automotive Pavilion. But for now, we had to go.
Here endeth day ten.
Apr 25th, 2013, 01:27 PM
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Sue - I have been away from the forums for a while since I have been busy planning our trip to Morocco. But, I'm glad I signed in today. Really enjoying your report (loving all the details) and your sense of humor! Looking forward to reading about Nagoya and Okayama as we didn't make it there.
Glad you had a wonderful trip!
Glad you had a wonderful trip!
