Homeward bound

Earthquake information from the Japan Meteorological Agency this morning

The morning started inauspiciously when I was woken from my slumbers at 6 a.m. It was Raph: he was having a fit in bed next to me. It took a split-second to realise that it wasn’t Raph at all who was shaking, but the room - and it was all over, well, in two shakes. An hour later, I switched on the television and it was breaking news, with a webcam outside Tokyo showing some jittery images, followed by a map of the epicentre some 60 km north-east of the metropolis. At magnitude 5 on the Richter scale, hardly a major quake. Nevertheless - and this can be said now that I'm safely back on a continent where plate tectonics isn't a fact of everyday life – you can't really say you've been to Japan without having witnessed a tremor at first hand. It's just not the thing you want to be subjected to in bed on the fifth floor of a Tokyo hotel.


Raph on the Skyliner

Things didn't get much better. When you arrive at a railway station to catch a shuttle train for a flight at an airport 50 km away, the last thing you need - indeed the last thing you expect in Tokyo – is to see the words “Delayed” flashed all over the electronic information displays. We managed to solve this problem by jumping on the Skyliner Express train, more on our initiative than with the aid of railway staff who were not only confused themselves, but also as unhelpful as anyone we’d met in the last 3 weeks. The surcharge was 2400 yen, but as additional insurance against missing an intercontinental flight, it seemed like money well spent.


On time at the airport


Positively the very last Japanese train you'll see on this blog

Once we were checked in and through security and passport control, I toyed with the idea of buying a miniature plasticised meal as we spent our last yen on mementos. Fake meal displays outside Japanese restaurants are almost universal. Since restaurant menus are highly individualised, I had spent a disproportionate amount of time during the last three weeks pondering on how these menus are transformed into plastic. Is there a machine that frazzles meals into artificial replicas of the original? Are there businesses that specialise in the mummification process? Do special artists and designers exist who get a paid salary visiting eating establishments to discuss the options with the owners? And what happens when the chef decides to do a special? Whatever, in a country where English menus are few and far between, these visual displays can be extremely useful to the uninitiated.


Plasticised menu displays

The boredom of a ten-hour flight at least gave us the chance to catch up on some Japan reading. I finished reading Hokkaido Highway Blues by Canadian writer Will Ferguson which I'd been dipping into over the last three weeks. It's a 'Brysonesque' travelogue which relates Ferguson's efforts to hitch-hike from one end of Japan to the other chasing the Sakura (cherry-blossom) season as it makes its way northwards in the spring. Often hilarious, the book also had more serious, even philosophical asides and gives an insightful reflection on Japanese society.


The cherry-blossom forecast in 2009

Meanwhile in the next seat, Raph was heavily into A Very Brief History of Modern Japan which we had picked up at Kinukinaya yesterday. Later in the evening he'd discovered it had been written by one of his former lecturers on his Japanese course at Leiden. The flight back was otherwise excruciatingly dull and I spent what seemed many hours staring down at Siberia down below through the camera on the undercarriage.

After 3 intense weeks on the road living out of a suitcase, there’s been little time to reflect on the Japan experience. Whilst the blog paints a reasonably accurate picture of our time there, it’s just the tip of the iceberg and many questions remain unanswered (For example, how exactly do they plasticise their meals, and why do women (especially service staff) effect such a high-pitched voice?) There’ll be lots of time to reflect in the coming weeks. Right now I'm ready to have some major downtime in the comfort of my own home and catch up on lots of sleep (Raph is already doing so as I type this on the train back home).


Raph about to fall asleep in First Class

In limbo

After being subjected to a cacophony of sound and flashing lights from the gaming machines in the five-storey Club Sega in Akihabara, I knew it was time to leave Planet Japan.

Our flight back home leaves Narita at 11.25 on Friday morning, so today was an in-between day, a day to fill up with goodies and get rid of our remaining yen. My theory is that if you see something you like in a different country, it's durable (i.e. it's not immediately consumable), can fit in your bag, is within budget and you can't get it back home, then you should buy it. View it as an investment. Take, for example, a beautiful book of reproduced Japanese prints by Yokoyama Taikan. Now it might cost 2100 yen - that's above average for a book I know - but it's something that I'll be able to keep for the rest of my life, so in fact it's a real bargain.


A Yokoyama Taikan print


The lotus leaves in the park at Ueno

After checking out train times at Ueno station for the return trip to Narita, we went to the Yokoyama Taikan Memorial Hall across the park, which is not actually a hall, but the former residence of the artist from 1909 onwards. Raph managed to get himself embroiled in a Japanese conversation of sorts with a member of the museum staff, who - once she had ascertained I was English - decided I must like golf and gave me directions to the nearest driving range about 200 yards down the road. I-wa-saki, she kept repeating. Perhaps worth remembering in the unlikely event I take up golf and ever find myself with time to kill in Tokyo, but not today thanks.


I-wa-saki! The tiniest golf-driving range you ever did see.

Travelling around in Tokyo all day enabled me to do a bit of T-shirt spotting. For some puzzling reason, everybody except native-speakers seem to find the English language sexy and the Japanese are no exception. You'll never see a Japanese person wearing a T-shirt with a Japanese text, it's always in English. Well, at least a form of English. How about Eat More Buck, Never Ending Estate or Keep Frying Sail. I know Japanese is an abstract language, so maybe I'm missing something here. But then again, I'm probably not. My absolute favourite however, was a T-shirt worn by an attractive, rather well-endowed girl in her twenties with the text Busty Magic (sorry, no photos). Well, they do say that ignorance is bliss, don't they?

We took a walk round the Kagurazaka district which had been recommended in the guidebooks, but by midday, it was so blisteringly hot, that we decided to take cover in the metro and move to Shibuyu, where Raph wanted to visit the HMV store. Unfortunately the CD he wanted (Plastic Tree - Puppet Show) wasn't in stock and anyway, CD prices are prohibitively expensive (3500 yen). Shh, don't tell anyone, but he'd already downloaded the music, he just wanted the "feel" of the CD in his hands (nice to know that some things never change).


The Shibuyu Crossing with the HMV store peeping around the corner in the background

We moved slowly on in the heat to Harajuku where I was intent on picking up another "investment" - a book of woodblock prints by Hokusai - from the Ota museum where we had been on our very first day in Tokyo. We hit the metro again and headed for Kinokuniya. This is perhaps the largest bookshop in the city, at least the one with the largest English section. But I was headed for the map section. Anyone who knows me well, will be familiar with my addiction to topographic maps, and with 1:25,000 and 1:50,000 "ordnance survey" maps going for a song, well, I was in seventh heaven. My trip to Japan just couldn't go wrong from here.


Outside Kinokuniya bookstore

It was time for a drink. Coffee to be exact, which I had been missing for most of the trip so far. We found a table at Starbucks (only just) and I filled up with my caffeine fix, before catching the metro back to the hotel for a rest. Well, not much of a rest for me, since after the spending spree, I was running out of yen and spent 45 minutes searching for a Post Office (the only places in Japan that take international bank cards) in order to fill my wallet for "contingency" purposes.


Akihabara, with Club Sega on the right

One final sortie in the city sent us in the direction of Akihabara (remember, the electronics district?), where Raph had read that there were stores selling Manga. By the time we got there, the bookstores had closed and instead, we went for a tempura (a kind of deep-fried seafood) at a restaurant on the main drag. Next stop was Club Sega where our senses were assaulted by the misceallenous gaming machines that occupied every level of its five storeys. There were even queues for some of the machines. Raph admitted it was noisy but he was able to cope with it and passed my antipathy off as a generation thing.
Give me the peace of the mountains anytime.


The queue for the gaming machines in Club Sega

So, we took our last metro one stop down the line to the hotel. We don't want to be late for the plane tomorrow (and to catch the last chance for Manga books at the airport).


The last metro

Back to the urban jungle

Having done without for the last 4 days, I was beginning to feel a little twitchy. It wasn't the lack of internet or a mobile signal that was the problem, what I really needed was a train, not least because today marked the last day before our Japan Rail Passes expired and we needed to get back to Tokyo.


The Kamikochi bus terminal


Raph looking bored out of his skull at the Kamikochi bus terminal

Today was another bright morning and after breakfast we readied ourselves, cleaned the bungalow and set off with our heavy bags to the bus terminal 15 minutes away. Kamikochi was quiet, but there were already a few people milling around as we waited 20 minutes for our bus heading in the direction of Matsumoto on the other side of the mountains.


Emerging from the bus/taxi-only tunnel from Kamikochi

The bus left Kamikochi at 10.10 and, once we had emerged from the tunnel which links the resort with Route 158 connecting Takayama and Matsumoto, we descended the road which follows the narrow valley of Azusa-gawa where there were three impressive hydro-dams en route. As it happened, the bus only took us as far as Shinshimashima, where there was a railhead for the local train to Matsumoto. There we switched onto the Highland Railway, a bummel-train which advanced at a slow pace towards Nagano-ken's second largest city.


At Shinshimashima

In Matsumoto we had 2 and a half hours to spare before catching the train to Tokyo and it was our plan to use the time wisely and visit Japan's oldest wooden castle: one of four designated National Treasures, the other castles being at Hikone (visited), Himeji (seen from the Shinkansen station) and Inuyama (the latter which we had espied on our journey to Takayama).


Matsumoto castle

The sun was beating down when we hit Matsumoto (pop. 227,000) and we fairly laboured our way to the castle 15 minutes distant from the station. Inside the castle keen we tagged on to an English-speaking guide (Yakuki) who explained the ins-and-outs of the castle as we climbed the ever steepening staircases inside to the sixth and top storey. These castles are so compact (but nevertheless quite beautiful), that it is almost impossible to imagine samurai dashing about inside trying to engage the enemy outside. But as Yakuki expounded, at the time the castle was built in Matsumoto, Japan was a peaceful country and one of the main reasons it survived was because the castle had never been besieged or struck by lighting. A lucky history, one might say.

The view out of the window on the 14.49 Azusa Special to Tokyo was extremely easy on the eye. We sat back and watched the Japanese countryside roll by, with forested hills on either side. Japanese settlements seem to cling to valleys and coastal plains rather than encroach into the mountains around them. Our only gripe was that Mount Fuji was shrouded in stormclouds.


Arriving back in Tokyo

We arrived at Tokyo's Shinjuku station at 17.26 and less than an hour later had checked in to our hotel near Ueno.


Tokyo Tower

In Raph's relentless pursuit to squeeze as much as possible out of Japan in the three weeks we were there, we decided to head off to Roppingi, about 12 stops down the line and ascend the Tokyo Tower, a replica of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Lonely Planet describes the night-time view of Tokyo as stellar. It was okay - no major landmarks to recognise like in Paris, but lots of major traffic arteries and office blocks to admire down below. Roppingi is a strange district and home to most of Tokyo's diplomatic corps - we passed the heavily guarded Russian embassy on the walk there. The central area is buzzing with nightlife and lots of Africans tempting us to try out the strip-clubs. In fact, Roppingi was the most cosmopolitan district we had come across so far and seemed to be the place where Tokyo's ex-pat community hangs out.


The view from the top

It was gone ten by the time we had eaten and boarded the metro back to our hotel, but the train was full of salarymen wending their way home. Had they only just finished work? Life in Tokyo would not suit me ...

The hike from Shin Hotaka

Tuesday 20 July

I spent weeks worrying about what the weather would be like today. Would we be spending the day trekking from onsen to onsen getting a real good soaking indoors and outdoors, or would we be granted blue skies and warm temperatures? Happily for us, the weather gods were kind and we were able to head off into the hills. The plan was to do a “lazy” hike which involved a 1300 metre ascent by cable car and a three-hour walk back to Kamikochi. First we had to get to Shin-Hotaka Onsen in the next valley, which is where the cable car begins, an hour away by bus with a connection at Hirayu Onsen.


Raph trying his best to look Japanese at Hirayu Onsen. Note the name of the cafe behind.

After breakfast in the campsite restaurant, we caught the 9.30 a.m. bus from a near deserted bus terminal at Kamikochi. Following the end of the long holiday weekend, the big crowds had thankfully dissipated. Nevertheless, a few coaches were already depositing new arrivals (apparently the Marine Day weekend marks the start of the summer holiday season in Japan). By 11.15 we were in Shin-Hotaka ready for the ascent up to the top station at 2156 metres. Whilst temperatures in the valley were already at 25 degrees, up on the mountain they were a trifling 17 degrees. And though conditions were good, the peaks were shrouded in mist, with the cloud base at around 2500 metres – well, you can’t have everything.


The Shin Hotaka cable car

The two-stage cable car is Japan’s highest. Most people head to the top, admire the view, walk around, have a meal and then set off back down again for the return trip. We planned to climb 200 metres up to the main ridge and stop off at the Nishi Hotaka mountain hut, and then make the steep descent back down into Kamikochi.


The view from the cable car top station to the Nishi Hotaka mountain hut

It was a 45-minute slog up to the hut at 2365 metres (the hiking map indicated a time of 1 hr 30 mins, so we had done well) and we were glad to take our rucksacks off and enjoy a rice-cake and a thirst-quenching drink. Whilst the views are okay from the hut, you really have to climb ten minutes or so onto the ridge to enjoy a 240-degree vista (the clouds on the peaks behind us barred us from the full 360). Kamakochi was a speck down below and in the distance we could see the golden roof of a shrine in Takayama glistening in the sunshine some 40 kilometres away. Let’s say the view would have been better, but you weren’t going to hear me complaining after all the weeks of anxiety about today.


The hard slog up to the hut


The view from the hut


The view from the ridge above the hut


In his element

The tramp down to Kamakochi required our full concentration. It was steep, and because we were below the tree-line, entailed walking a muddy path that negotiated its way around boulders and tree roots at various downward gradients. A slight slip might result in an injury – a good job my new travel insurance policy kicked in at the beginning of the month. If Mount Misen on Miyajima was a knee-jerker, the walk down from Nishi Hotaka was a real ankle-twister. Vistas - the main reason this doesn't rank amongst my all-time walks - are strictly limited because of the tree cover, but it would have been nice to stop occasionally and soak up the view. The map indicated a time factor of 2 and a half hours but we were back at the Kappabashi bridge - safe and sound - in 1 hour and 45 minutes - a descent of 1800 metres. Although, in the end, it was only a 2 and a half hour walk, it was still pretty exhausting, not least because of the concentration levels required.


Down in the valley


Back at base camp

We spent the next hour flat out on our futons. After that our bodies demanded but two things: a full square meal and a hot soak. We got them both. There was an exquisite evening sky when we got back from the onsen, so we spent an hour wandering, gazing at the darkening skyline from the bridge. Of all things, we happened to bump into a scouser on the Kappabashi bridge, who didn’t seem too offended by Raph's United shirt, but then he had spent the last 30 years in Montreal. He was a keen climber and came to Japan more or less every year to trek in the High Alps (they refer to the mountain region here as the ‘Alps’ for some peculiar reason). One curious fact he related was that most climbers in Japan tend to be retired people – the only people in the country with time on their hands. It kind of explained the number of elderly people we’d seen on our trails today.


The view of Yakedake volcano from Kamikoshi at dusk

After the peace of the mountains, it’s back to the big city tomorrow.

Up to the mountains

Monday 19 July

After two hot and sunny days, the omens are looking good for the weather-critical part of the journey. The 5-day forecasts either indicate a big sun, or one which is partially hiding behind a cloud, but no raindrops. We are keeping our fingers crossed.

Kamikochi is one of the oddest mountain resorts I have ever stayed at. During the day it is positively aswarm with tourists. Come 8 p.m., the teeming hordes have departed and the mountain retreat is devoid of people, except for a few paltry campers and the well-to-do folk who can afford the excessively pricey hotels (the latter excludes us, so the former we must be).


Home sweet home!

To be honest, most things in Kamikochi - apart from the fresh air and the mountain views - are pricey. We had booked a bungalow on the municipal camping site, which, it turns out, is little more than a shack: it has a small “squatter” toilet at the back, a small kitchen area, two power points, two futons (with sheets provided) and lots of creepy crawlies thrown in for good measure. We will forgo the fact that there are no chairs, after all this IS Japan, but for 8,500 yen a night (that's around 80 euros) you might expect basic bathroom-cum-shower facilities (and perhaps in the modern era, one might also hope for an internet point and a mobile signal). In fact, the only on-site washing facilities comprise an onsen (public baths) which is open only between the hours of 2 p.m. and 7 p.m. The campsite restaurant likewise closes at the early hour of 6 p.m. and there's little else in the way of eating left open - after all, the place is deserted at night-time. All this basically means we are paying 8,500 yen a night for the privilege of NOT being able to take a shower or buy a meal at a convenient time. (To put this in context, we had paid 11,500 yen a night for the most comfortable and accommodating hotel of our trip the night before, in Takayama).


The bus terminal at Kamikochi when we arrived

The largest building in Kamikochi is the bus terminal and with its droves of tourists, on Marine Day, it pretty much resembled Ueno on the Friday evening we arrived in Tokyo. We had driven up there by bus from Takayama, by way of Hirayu Hot Springs, where we had to change to a connecting bus. A tunnel has been bored through the mountainside to cut journey times over the pass. One of the reasons there is such a large bus station at Kamikochi is because no cars are allowed in and out of the town.


The view from the Kappabashi bridge

Japan is one of the most forested lands I have ever visited. Even the tree line seems to extend to well beyond 2500 metres. Mountain valleys, like the one in which Kamikochi nestles, at 1500 metres, are lush with vegetation. Temperatures of above 25 are the norm for this time of year. Unlike the Alps, the high mountainous valleys of the region were never settled before the arrival of tourism in the late 19th century, when the area was opened up by western pioneers who sparked a Japanese interest in the sport of mountaineering. Kamikochi's riverside paths are therefore unfailingly wooded.


The idyllic pond near Myojin-bashi


Raph reflecting on how clear the water is

We arrived at the bus terminal at midday, lugged our heavy backpacks for 15 minutes along Kamikochi's main drag and checked into our bungalow. After orienting ourselves on the campsite, that is, ultimately discovering a complete lack of shower facilities, we headed off in the direction of the Visitor Centre (for information) and headed across the wooden Kappabashi suspension bridge, which marks the centre of town (if Kamikochi can indeed be called a town). It is a universal law that day-trippers never stray far from the focal point of tourist attractions, so on the one-hour walk up the valley to Myojin-bashi we were able to leave the masses behind us. A shrine has been built here whose biggest drawcard is the pond with its crystal clear waters and a mountain backdrop.


The Myojin-bashi bridge

Our aim was to arrive back at 4.30 and take a stroll over to the restaurant for a meal before jumping into the hot tub before that closed at 7. After 8 p.m., Kamikochi is officially asleep and wakes up again in the morning at 8 a.m. Time for a good book.


The Kappabashi bridge at dusk - note: almost deserted

Takayama

The strangest thing happened to me this morning while we were out looking for a bakery in town. We crossed the bridge spanning the river and noticed that it was flowing northwards, which means we are now on the north-western side of the Japan watershed for the first time, with the Miya-gawa flowing into the Sea of Japan, rather than the Pacific.


The Sanmachi-Suji district

We never did find a bakery, just gift-shop after gift-shop in the old part of town, until we eventually stumbled upon a Family Mart which sold a variety of convenience rolls and - our old favourites – rice cakes wrapped in seaweed. The rickshaw riders were busy mid-morning carrying eager tourists around the Sanmachi-Suji area of town, notable for its traditional shops, restaurants, museums and small-scale sake breweries. The coach parks were already doing brisk business, ferrying in parties of trippers from hither and thither, this being a long holiday weekend in Japan.

As we had the whole day, we decided to return to the central part of town later in the afternoon and try out some of the walking trails around town. Takayama is really quite a compact little town (pop. 96,000) so it is not difficult to find greener bits with hillside shrines away from the crowds.

Takayama is famous for its spring and autumn (harvest) festivals, the Matsuri, which attract visitors from far and wide. Ancient three-tiered floats, known as yatai, decorated with carvings, dolls, colourful curtains and blinds, are paraded around town during the festival. The guide-books don’t mention it, but who knows, after the cavalcade, the local population might even descend on the bars and izuyaki in fancy-dress and get totally blotto, but even with my limited knowledge of the Japanese, I’m sure even they are too cultured and civilised to try anything so debauched as that.


Festival float

You’re perhaps thinking, why on earth is he even mentioning these festivals? It's summer after all. Well, the reason is that a selection of these ornate yatai are on display in the Yatai Kaikan (festival floats museum) which we visited. Apparently, these floats are so revered, that they have been placed under a national preservation order, so if they ever get damaged, the government will foot the repair bill.


Paper cranes in a temple


Part of the "Higashiyama"walk

The walking route eventually took us to the edge of town on a winding road that led uphill and offered some fine vistas of the heavily forested countryside in the surroundings (so much so, that Raph commented that it looked like Germany). Takayama has its own temple route which is modelled on the Higashiyama district of Kyoto. The comparison hardly sticks, but it made for a pleasant route in what was now a very hot and sunny day, punctuated by some welcoming cotton-wool clouds overhead. The temples were by no means remarkable, but this was Higashiyama without the crowds (or the rain), and we chanced upon some delightful little corners of Takayama that the average day-tripper would never see.


A delightful corner of Takayama away from the crowds


Views across town


The castle ruins

Shiroyama Park provided us with some refreshing shade and at the top of the hill lie the ruins of an old castle and below some splendid views across town, which we could see was filling up with even more sightseers. We ran across a nostalgia museum which was exhibiting all kinds of bric-a-brac from late 20th century Japan (no Western technology in sight) – vehicles, film posters, cameras, household appliances, recreated storefronts, etc. etc.


Tea and crackers in the Yoshijima merchant house

Perhaps the most laid-back experience of the day was at the Yoshijima merchant house, a museum which allows you to see the living quarters and a commercial warehouse at the rear, all tastefully designed with cool and spacious rooms and miniature gardens. Included in the price of the ticket was a cup of green tea and a rice cracker.


Heron waiting for the kill


River view

By now, downtime at the hotel was due, so we headed off by way of the riverbank to chill out in our room for two hours before heading out for a dinner of noodles and a final walk around the now empty historic quarters.


The Sanmachi-Suji area of town after dark