The sweet smelling leaves of Kamikochi

The busy oppression of Tokyo was getting to me and so I suggested to Hannah that we head out, to my favorite place – The Mountains of Wherever – for the weekend.

Not a yodeler in site

Now, organising travel in Japan is extremely difficult and frustrating as often travel websites are in Nihon-go and it is hard to fathom what is what, especially if you want something reasonable. All the pricey places have the yen to put together a website with decent info, but all the low-key special type places exist within a pocket of word of mouth and shoddy web design.

But through a bit of toil we found a ryokan (Japanese inn) in the Japanese Alps that was dubbed as being “unforgettable”. That sounds like us, we said and so we locked in a booking for this place and meticulously ascertained our route via train to glorious Kamikochi of the Nagano Prefecture. Nagano is due North of Tokyo and is well known for skiing and mountains. Thank sweet Jesus for www.hyperdia.com which makes it a million times easier.

Yay! Fingers!

An early start is a prerequisite when travelling and thus we were up with the cock and gadding through Shibuya to Shinjuku for: a) a near three hour train, b) another 40 minute train, c) an hour and a half bus and finally d) a 40 minute trek through the Alps to our ryokan.

The trip, however, didn’t start well and we nearly missed our train because of a hiccup with our train tickets that actually ended up with us jumping the train turnstyle to make it on time. Hannah got excited – bless her. Due to this, we had to stand for the entirety of the long train ride to Matsumoto (along with the salary-men on their two hour Saturday commutes to work – poor buggers.)

As the ugly type grey streets dwindled away, the air became fresher and fresher and the greens became greener and greener and we soon found ourselves nestled between the Japanese Alps in a slightly euro styled ryokan called Kamikochi Myojinkan. Aptly named, it sat in the burly shadow of Mt Myojinkan and it was beautiful. We spent the afternoon wandering along the riverside amongst the browns, yellows, oranges and deep reds of my pal, Autumn. The air was thick with the sweet smell of one style of leaf that littered the floor – I have no idea what it was, but it was wondrous. It was like breathing in a bowl of overly ripe fruit.

The area is well known for a British Reverend called Weston. He went to Kamikochi in the 1880s and introduced modern European mountain climbing to the area. He sounds like a boss and there is a plaque for him along the riverbank.

That evening we had a group Japanese style dinner of river fish, tofu, pickles, tempura, rice (of course) and a few other selections. The remoteness of the inn was great and thus power became limited from 9pm. There is nothing wrong with an early night, however.

We did a little bit more hiking the next day and found a postcard picture pond next to a shrine before heading back to the Big Toke.

So this place, this place called Kamikochi, I would thoroughly recommend a trip there. We were lucky enough to catch it in the beginning of its Autumn slumber, but I’d say you would find the scenery absolutely breathtaking in any season.

Post script, Hannah and I are far from fluent when it comes to speaking Japanese, but we were quite please with our ability to communicate with folk along our journey so that is a positive! Yay, us.

Here is info on the ryokan.

Here is info in the area of Kamikochi.

Kamikochi Myojinkan

Lost maps, hitchhiking, abandoned temples and apologetic bees

So we made a spur of the moment trip into the wilderness the other day! Yaaaay, the wilderness! I bloody love the wilderness. 

Yes, indeed, very spur of the moment. The night before, as our flatmate Toby was galavanting out the door to fly to Tibet we were bugging him for information about a perky hike and crudely drawing maps on post-it notes. Then we were off to the supermarket at 11pm in search of supplies for our trek . . . into the wilderness! Yay! Going to bed at 1pm wasn't the wisest of choices given our 5am wake up call the next day but hey ho, never mind!

The destination: Mt Takago down in yonder Chiba to the south-east of the Big Toke

Now, this place is well out of the way when it comes to access and that goes doubly when your Japanese skills are tantamount to that of an overtly lazy panda with a learning disorder. We needed to catch a train and then a train and then an elusive bus that came once in a blue moon. However, our good friend Keiko did some research and it turned out said bus had been discontinued and thus our route was changed at the very last minute.

Lost maps and hitchhiking

And so, to slash a tedious story perky, we found ourself in Matsuoka - which incidentally could easily be labelled "The-ass-end-of-where." Luckily the folk in The-ass-end-of-where are extremely friendly and even took the time to draw us a map which would guide us the 11 or so kilometers we needed to walk to find the hike - and yes, I did say 11 bloody kilometers. We walked though and as we did, the rain joined us and somehow our map of where the hike was and how to find it fell out of my safe-like pocket. Luckily it was at the exact moment our efforts at hitchhiking came to fruition and a lovely couple from . . . Japan, gave us a lift to the beginning of the park. Top notch adventure so far. Now bring on the formality of the tramp!

Abandoned temples

We made it! To the tramp. Seriously, by this stage we felt we had triumphed in the most important part of our journey and that was finding the route in the middle of nowhere in a place called Toyofusa. We cracked on after a quick coffee - would you believe they even have vending machines that sell heated coffee in the middle of nowhere? Yes, yes you would - it's bloody Japan innit. The forest was beautiful and it proved to be a really great testing ground for the stability of my leg which had been operated on about six months earlier. The muddy, up and down terrain tested it's ability to hold firm and it passed with flying colours. The sound of the forest was beautiful and a welcome change from the bustle of busy Shibuya. We only hiked 3km, but it was a tricky 3km given the terrain and the rain - and anyway, the real pay off wasn't doing a long hike it was staying in an abandoned temple we had heard legend of. We found it.

We approached a large rock, like an outcrop, among the forest and trees and realised a sizable hole had been hewn through it with a steep stair descending onto a small green carpet of grass. Beyond was the Mt Takago Kannon sculpted into the cliff face. It over looked a magnificent valley with hills and mountains bubbling off into the distance. Wonderfully, almost the moment we got there the light rain cleared out and the sun broke through to illuminate the valley stretching off into the distance. It was divine. Amazingly there was a tiny dribble of water of the cliff face that made a very small pool for washing hands etc. Imagine my surprise when I spotted two fresh water crabs in there. The temple itself is a dedication to Kannon, the goddess of mercy. Inside a somewhat restored, yet abandoned temple was a couple of log chairs, a demonesque face carving, a picture from what we deduced to be the late 70s, a whole bunch of scribbling on the walls from hikers now as immortal as the statue of Kannon herself which stood at the back of the temple looking out the door at the magnificence of nature. It was really special. The kind of place you read about . . .  on blogs . . .

Apologetic bees

We sat and enjoyed our lunch on the step of the temple and as I did I realised the bees in Japan are very . . . apologetic. Usually, my experience of bees when it comes to picnics, is they pester and piss you off buzzing around looking for sweet things. These Japanese bees seemed to come along, see you, then say "Oops, sorry, didn't see you there, I'll move along." Very bizarre and then as we descended from the temple to the waterfall down the track and I mean down (like devil's staircase down) I noticed most of the wildlife in Japan doesn't pester or annoy. Which is bloody good when you need to stay the night in an abandoned temple with no doors to speak of. 

Dinner and dusk

We forgot the bloody sausages didn't we. But we made do with our delicious tinfoiledkumara, carrots and mushrooms. With a side of bread and some fire boiled mint tea we had a feast over a game of chess - how civilized. We fell asleep to the sound of the rain on the roof. Amazingly, weren't hounded my mosquitos or any other insect-like foes and we slept trough the night peacefully - another fine example of the conscientious nature of Japanese wildlife. 

Return to the Tokester

Alas, it must all come to an end and after a brekky of rice, tinned coffee heated over a fire and bananas we were off through the rain back to civilization - and stopped short, with a scratch of the head and a mental prolapse due to the incomprehensible bus stop. We ended up hitchhiking with the first person that drove past our eager thumb. They were a lovely couple on their way back from the hospital. She had hurt her leg dancing with children. More interestingly, the bloke spent a year in NZ 20 years earlier and thus we had loads to talk about. His chuckle and mentioning of "windy Wellington" and his love of Hokey Pokey ice cream let us know that he fully understood NZ as a culture and a country. Six hours later I was back at work with the trip to Mt Takago and glowing memory.

Ways in which Japan changes you - Part One

We'll save you the tedious platitudes for not blogging about our antics recently and simply say: We've been busy having an awesome time. Booya!

So we've been here over a year now and it's quite interesting to reflect on ways in which Tokyo can change a person. Here are a few of these reflections.

I can't eat this! Where's my bloody oshiburi? 

So with pretty much all meals here you get a moist towelette, kind of like you do on the plane.  They're called oshiburi. When you first get here you read warnings in guidebooks etc not to wipe your face with them and that they're only for your hands prior to eating and so on and so forth. But in all honesty, they're just a bloody hand towel--do what you want with em. Turn em into a floppy paper-plane if you want.

And so you use these things all the time, almost every meal, whether it's a dirty little salad from the combini or a lovely, all you can eat okonmiyaki joint, there are loads of em.

And then, one day, they don't come, there are none on the table and you find yourself aghast saying:

"Where . . . where is my oshiburi? I - I can't eat this!" and in your mind your hands and fingers are teeming with bacteria and horror, all manner of beasties waiting, lurking, at the ready to give you X. 

As a fallout you slowly gather unused oshiburi (they're usually wrapped in plastic) and keep one in your briefcase, backback, purse, just in case. Note the word cleanliness - a central principle to Japanese life.

Today in Tokyo, 1,000,000 brollies lost their lives because of a bit of wind

Coming from Windy Wellington you can imagine my opinion on umbrellas: Bloody useless. In fact, forever etched in most of our Wellingtonian minds are images of splintered umbrellas stuffed disdainfully into bins. But the truth is, in Welly, we all just wear jackets if it's rainy and I think it creates a hardiness in us, right? We weather the weather.

The sheer volume of brollies in Tokyo, is unfathomable and they are just so expendable. I think it's because most Japanese seem to harbour a rabid fear of the rain. Many a time you can see people in the slightest of drizzle charging through the rain as if satan himself was in pursuit. And so when the occasional (very occasional) windy day does come or - heaven forbid it - a typhoon, 13,000,000 people need to use an umbrella. But the funny thing is, these nutters will also try valiantly to use a 100 yen (NZD 1.50) umbrella in a tree cracking gale and in the wake of any storm you will find the horror, the massacre of multitudes of brollies thrown into the street, naked, shameful in - literally - piles the height of very tall dwarfs.

But anyway, dramatic holocaustic imagery aside, you get involved with the brolly culture here and the weather report becomes your best mate as you too now endeavour to avoid any possibility of finding yourself running through the satanic rain. In the end we adapt to fit in with our environment.

"Walk ya ####s!"

There are so many people is probably the most tedious observation you can make about Tokyo. But it's true and man, it changes you.

Walking here is slow, real slow, they all just dawdle along, which is pretty logical really as there are loads of people - but dear me it can push your patience. Even when I was on my crutches I was overtaking people. And it's not so much an impatience thing, it is that some people walk INCREDIBLY slowly - too slowly - and are also, at times, extremely inconsiderate with it; you know, a group of six standing and lolly gagging in 10,000 peoples way on a tiny walkway, that kind of thing. So you end up really having to manage your serenity and patience because if you don't... well if you don't this kind of thing happens. 

Just a few weeks ago I was walking up a major road in Shinjuku with an Aussie. I was happy plodding along to tell you the truth, we were yarning and I had nowhere to be. But then out of the blue the Aussie hollers "WALK YA C###S!"at the group of four people dawdling in front of us. They obviously didn't really understand and thus it didn't help our situation, but I found it interesting as it highlights this propensity to exist within your own bubble here, saying things or muttering things out loud, because nobody understands you anyway. If you don't manage your serenity you can become a bit of a mutterer or dare I say it - a nutter.

A well-spent day brings happy sleep - Leo da Vinci

If that's the case, Leo, how do you explain all the sleeping going on in the Japanese rail system?

Many of you will know of my brief interest in train sleeping, but what is interesting is that we fall into the same behaviour. I would never have dreamed of sleeping on a train in Welly, just wouldn't really. Life didn't, well, life didn't need it.

Here, it does. Escape? Maybe. Rest? Maybe. Who knows why, but sleeping on the train here is the norm and more than once now I have found myself quietly dipping into meditation and then bam, I'm sleeping. Not long and deep enough to miss stops or anything - just escaping briefly, an abiltiy to ignore that fat smelly salary man's ass nudging ever closer to my face.