Miyajima
By my 6th day in Japan, I had enough of temples and Kyoto was full of them. So for my last fully day in Japan, I sped to Hiroshima by Shinkansen and took a quick ferry to the island of Miyajima. After unboarding the ferry, I was encountered by “wild” deer that greeted the visitors to the island. They have become so used to humans, that the deer take naps in public parks and sometimes try to sneak into shops if incentive in the form of food appears unguarded.
I took a cable car to the summit of the island’s mountain Mount Misen where there were wild monkeys lounging around like a bunch of drunk teenagers on spring break in a summer beachhouse. With bright red faces and butts.
All round the park there were also brightly colored lizards, freshwater crabs in the streams, and cicadas that had a chant much different than those on North America’s east coast.
Most of the day was spent hiking in the forests, or cooling my feet in streams in the public parks. It was probably the only remotely-blue-sky day during my whole visit to Japan.
Shinkansen to Kyoto
Kawaguchiko was quaint and relaxing but I was definitely glad to leave that that wet blanket. I hopped on the first train out to Tokyo, which was almost a 3 hour endeavour: Fuji-Yoshida Line to Otsuki, then transfer to the JR Azusa express to Shinjuku, then transfer to the JR Yamanote Line to Tokyo station. From there I caught the Hikari Shinkansen (bullet train) Kyoto. Along the way I ran into 2 other non-Japanese: Joe from Wales and Raquel from Brazil/Austrailia. It was good to speak with English speakers again, and share advice on what to do, where to go and how to do it. The conversation about Japan was always positive. I gave Joe a 15USD rain jacket that I ended up never using because it never rained, snowed or got colder than 50F on the mountain. I’m in denial about wasting money and try to recount it as “insurance”. Joe would have better use for it, since he’s been doing harcore hikes on the wettest and most distant areas in Japan.
The Shinkansen was ridiculously fast,and forking over the extra cash for the Green Car JR Pass – a.k.a. First Class! – was key in compensating for the abuse I imposed on my body for having to lug around the 20kg backpack from hostel to train station to hostel. I enjoyed my reserved seat in a 60 person-capacity car with only 4 people occupying it, while I ate my chirashi (a bed of sushi rise topped with the freshest of raw seafood like sea urchin, caviar, and yellow fin tuna) and green tea.
When the Shinkansen opened its doors at the city of Nagoya, my glance met a 6’2″ sumo wrestler dressed in a purple silk yukata and zori (straw japanese sandals). Contrary to some remarks made by ex-president George Bush, Senior; the Japanese are not actually that short, and this sumo wrestler definitely proved it. I tamed my paparazzi urges out of respect for this athelete, but managed to take a candid shot of him walking away at the Kyoto train station.
From Kyoto, I transfered to the local JR Sagano line a short 20 min ride/walk to Hanazono station in west/central Kyoto to the Myoshin-ji Temple (complex). Kyoto at first was a bit disappointing as it was not the picturesque Geisha-town that holywood had me believe. It was more industrialized, but when I entered the temple complex, I could not believe that I would be spending the night here.
When I arrived at the Shunko-In Temple (my accomodations for the night), I was met by a guy sporting a shaved head and wearing Abercrombie & Fitch t-shirt and shorts, watering the walkway and raking the gravel. I was expecting a greeting by a monk in traditional robes. Instead, I learned that Taka (Reverend Taka Kawakami) was the monk featured on the temple’s website. Taka had actually gone to Rice University and University of Arizona for his education.He led me to my room, which to my surprise was a traditional Japanese style room with tatami mats, sliding doors, elevated floors, and a sleep-on-floor style of bedding.
Shunko-In even had bike to use free of charge. I planned my route to Kinkaju-Ji temple, and had my first taste of urban riding in Asia – weaving through narrow streets, dodging pedestrians, and sharing narrow alleys with tiny Japanese cars. I took some time to figure out the rules of the road. The rules which are that no one follows the rules! According to the arrows painted on all the bike lanes, riders should stick to the left side of the path. Instead, it seemed to be a riders preference to choos to ride on the right or left-hand side of the path. Worse was that pedestrians didn’t really care about bike path vs. sidewalk. Somehow, everything worked out – the real rule was “survival”.
I made it to Kinkaju-Ji temple just 30min before they (and every other temple in Kyoto) close. This temple is also known as the Golden Pavillian, which was built as a retirement home for one of the shoguns. The main attraction is the pavillion, which is covered in gold-leaf.
With 2 hours left in the day, I rode like a madman through central Tokyo passing through the Imperial Palace grounds and Nijo-Jo castle.
I ended the evening by meeting up with one of my sisters roomates, Emily, who is doing a semester abroad and living in Kyoto. Eight of us met up at a real local’s joint called Jambo, which served Okonomiyaki. I’ve had this dish before in Manhattan, from a hole in the wall called Otafuku. But this was a real experience. 4 people sit at a table, with shoes removed and legs crossed (think traditional style). A grill occupies most of the table, where they cook right in front of you.
I ended the night taking some evening shots of the temple grounds in the dim light, and enjoyed my most relaxing night in Japan.
Lost and Found in Akihabara (秋葉原)
I finally checked into my first night’s accomodation – the Capsule Inn Hotel of the Akihabara district of Tokyo. I came through the door soaked in sweat after a 3km goose chase around the maze of Akihabara in the humid Japanes summer trying to find this place. As soon as I stepped off the elevated subway station and into the Times-Square-esque lights of Akihabara, I knew I was already lost before I ventured off the set of directions that I scribbled together to get this far. The trip from Narita airport was seemless enough, as I raced from customs to the JR Rail express line to the Tokyo Station within followed by a transfer 4min north to Akihabara.
I saw little English or romaji (japanese in the latin alphabet) when I first stepped into the Tokyo jungle. I chickened out fast and found the nearest police officer and asked “Sumimasen. Capsule Inn wa doko desu ka?”, which I hope meant: “Excuse me. Where is the Capsule Inn hotel?”. I awaited a response that I prayed would be in very slow Japanese so that I could pick up some common words I learned from “Japanese for dummies”. Believe it or not, he spoke great English. Too bad his directions were completely wrong.
1 hour later I was still wandering backstreets like a typical gaijin tourist. The streets were getting darker and less populated. I hailed the first cab I could find. As the automated taxi cab doors opened, I spoke into the cab: “Capsule Inn Hotel e itte kudasai.” I’m pretty sure that was wrong, but I was hoping it meant: “Please go to the Capsule Inn Hotel”. The man had no idea where that was and called HQ for reinforcements. We drove off and 2 blocks north back in the direction I came from, we found the place on a corner that I passed about 5 times. “WTF” I said to myself – the fare was about 710en (about 7 USD). Most expensive 2 block cab ride ever but I was going in the complete opposite direction anyway. When in doubt, hail a cab and have lots of money.
Capsule Inn Hotel, Akihabara, Tokyo
So I’m here now. I didn’t get a chance to explain the nature of the hotel. Basically, it’s another manifestation of the sardine-like living conditions of Japan. “Capsules” about 3 feet x 3 feet x 8 feet line a wall, where people sleep. Imagine those steel body drawers in a morgue, but more comfy with windows and TV inside. They supposedly were marketed towards Japanese businessmen who missed the last train home and needed a place to sleep and shower for the night.
I’ll try to take a few photos and post some later. For the rest of the night, I might join another American (a student from Standord) who is looking up places that serve fugu (that poisonous blowfish that Homer ate on the Simpsons in season 1) and whale. Yes, whale. I’m against their whale hunting industry, but when in Rome…
