Return To Japan, Part Three- A Slow Return

Kyoto To Tokyo

Leaving Okayama Prefecture hungover on wednesday morning, I thought the final few days in Japan might be something of an anticlimax. They turned out to be anything but.

That day I made the 3 hour journey from Shin-Kurashiki to Kyoto, crossing the Chugoku plain on a slow train, before transferring and whizzing through Kobe and Osaka to Kyoto on a Shinkaisoku densha. Kyoto itself was a bit of a muted experience, but probably because I was hungover; the weather didn’t help either. I had a nice trip to Kiyomizudera (which Hillary Clinton was to visit the next day, following in my footsteps I presume). After chilling in cafes and getting yet another tonkatsu meal for dinner, I made the short trip from Kyoto station to Rokujizo, where I met Shoji Ishizu at “8.30 at the ticket gate”.

Those instructions have become something of a legend for Shoji and his merry band of Couchsurfers- between 150 and 200 people have passed through his utterly amazing CS House, with him picking them up and helping them sort out their sightseeing plans on an almost daily basis. I was staying with a very friendly German guy- also living in Seoul- and two Taiwanese ladies that night. The house itself reminds me of a friends house in Shin Kurashiki- an old, slightly dilapidated structure- but the walls are covered in messages from people who’ve stayed there. It’s an amazing place, and Shoji is a fantastic guy.

I got a few hours sleep before leaping into action once more, catching a subway out to the east of Kyoto early the next morning, and walking up the main road that joins onto the Meishin Expressway. I was there at around 8, but it wasn’t until 10, with my hands freezing, my head spinning and my throat sore, that I finally got a lift. In truth I was close to giving up when the most bizarre people came along to save my day. The only way I can describe them is as Funky Monks. Despite owning an imported Mercedes from Germany, speeding along the highway weaving in and out of traffic, and being bling-ed up to the true Japanese chinpilla/yakuza-esque max, driver “Ken-chan” insisted that he and his friend were both monks in Kyoto. It was such a bizarre story that it almost certainly had to be true (plus there were no tattoes). They got me as far as the edge of Shizuoka Prefecture in truly record-breaking (and probably law-breaking) time. As before, once on the expressway I had no problems at all getting further lifts along. After an initial wait of 2 hours, it took only 20 minutes to get another lift from a businessman 40 minutes down the road to Fuji service area (his memorable words of wisdom were that the world’s best combination is “British house, American salary, Japanese wife and Chinese food”, and that the worst is “Japanese house, American wife, British food and Chinese salary”- a particularly nonsensical piece of advice from a very odd man). There, I only waited five before being picked up by Hiro and lovely Kumiko, in the furniture business in Tokyo. We got on best out of all the lifts I’d been given, and the remaining time to Tokyo whizzed by. At 3ish I finally made it back- they took me to their company where I had coffee, we took some celebratory pictures and I bid farewell. I was back!!

The Funky Monks!

Kumiko and Hiro

Back in Tokyo! But what to do? I know, spend all the money I’d saved by hitch-hiking and couchsurfing on clothes! Exhausted from a long day of roadside waiting and entertaining the various people who I hitched with, I collapsed in a capsule hotel in Ebisu on my first night back. The next day I moved north to Shinjuku, back to the Ace Inn, before setting out on a shopping expedition to Harajuku, Shibuya and Shinjuku. That evening I met up with Ai Kawasaki, a friend, and her friends. We did the izakaya-karaoke thing in Shibuya till 6am, and it was lots of fun! It gave me a chance to sing Rokko Oroshi two more times, as well as a host of other Japanese songs. I met lots of great people too! All that was left was to wander, hungover and tired, around the wonderful Hibiya Park, Tokyo Station’s Maruzen, and Ginza department stores the next day. That saturday evening, struggling to stay awake, I made it to Ebisu’s Footnik to see Chelsea take on Villa in an uninspiring game. I slept very deeply that night, with no dreams but a sense of contentedness.

My last day in Tokyo was both happy and sad. I spent a good hour puzzling over how to fit so many clothes into a bag clearly too small to hold them, met a friend for lunch in Harajuku, then headed off on the various trains to get to Narita airport. On the way I indulged in a little nostlagic music playing, but however sad I was to be leaving Japan (which if it isn’t obvious I like significantly more than Korea), I was happy that I’d had such an amazing trip- one that had surpassed any expectations- had seen so many good friends and made so many new ones. The more I visit Tokyo the more it’s demystified- I don’t think anyone forgets the first time they visit Tokyo, especially if they can’t read Japanese! Yet the more I visit, the more I get to know it, the more I like it as a city with such distintive culturally separate areas, great food, exciting nightlife and plentiful parks. It’s a tip-top place, and I want to live there!

Shinjuku, toward Kabuki-cho

Shinjuku, toward Skyscraper District

Ginzaaaaa

Hibiya Park, near the Imperial Palace

The plane ride back took only two hours and ten minutes, yet being back feels like being a world away from Tokyo and Japan. Nonetheless, what a wonderful trip! Bring on the next one

Return To Japan, Part One- New Discoveries

Tokyo To Osaka

“Dashing swiftly through the wind blowin’ from Rokko

Like the big sun soaring in the clear blue sky
Mighty spirit of the youth shows the victor’s grace
The name that shines in glory- “Hanshin Tigers”

Those were the words that filled my head- well, the Japanese equivalent at least- as I touched down in Narita, Tokyo, just a couple of weeks ago. I was back in Japan! Excitement and joy filled me as I skipped through customs and immigration, down to the JR platform to catch my train to Tokyo. In those first few hours I was like a child in a candy shop- everything was magnificent, and oh so “naksukashii”. It was the little things- the tidy apartment blacks  scattering the rice fields along the Chiba plains, the local bike parks viewable through low fences at local stations, the big blue sky, the adverts on the train- in Japanese! At Narita station I’d reached for the Pocari Sweat button on a vending machine, only to notice they had drinks I hadn’t seen in months- Wonda Morning Shot coffee and…CC Lemon! This ridiculously uplifting feeling continued after I’d checked in to my hostel, the conveniently located (if slightly lacking in atmosphere) Ace Inn. I went to a local Family Mart, and bought Famichikin, Ripobitan D and Japanese onigiri! For those first few hours I didn’t even want to do anything- I was content simply to be, back in Japan, a place I knew I’d missed and was happy to be back to.

Uncontainable excitement, as always happens, eventually gave way to more rational appraisal. I was back in Tokyo- and it was time to find some food. That first evening I headed over to Shinjuku, and found a basement sushi-ya. I slided back into Japanese mode- “hitori desu”, “nama biiru kudasai”- as I took my seat at the kaiten sushi counter, reaching for the free tea, the shoyu dish, the sweet ginger. The heads of the 5 sushi chefs were obscured by the overhead counter, but there was a great image of their hands delicately and skillfully moulding the wet rice to the wasabi and fish, sculpting the sushi with ease and simplicity. It would have made a great photo, but I stupidly didn’t take it out of pride- pride that I’d seamlessly moved into the scene, was the only gaijin in the room, and didn’t want to destroy the spell of looking like a “knowing foreigner” rather than a nervous tourist. Vanity, and a mistake.  By the end of the evening I’d completed a relaxing night in Tokyo, a night I could have had if I lived there- sushi, then over to The Footnik in Ebisu for a few beers while I watched the football and chatted to others in the bar, in particular a friendly pair of Japanese who were amused when I wheeled out my Hanshin opinions and ancedotes.

The next day- sunday- was spent in Harajuku. After rediscovering the joys of H&M, I was refuelling with a chicken taco when an affable Canadian named Andrew asked if he could sit next to me. We struck up a conversation, and ended up moving around Harajuku and Shibuya together for the next few hours- catching the Yamanote sen, chilling in Yoyogi Park, and getting countless “Free Hugs” from random teenages in Shibuya and Harajuku. That evening I was meant to be staying with a Couchsurfing dude,  Yusuke, so I headed over to his local staiton in the east of Tokyo. On the train ride there, with the sun setting, I saw Fuji-san in the distance, remarkably clear on the horizon. Yusuke turned out to be an incredibly friendly, easy going guy, and I immediately felt able to relax around him. I remain hugely grateful to him for what happened that evening. After a supermarket dinner (cue more nostalgia- Koiwai fruit drinks, karaage, edamame!), I started to get stomach pains. For the rest of that night I was throwing-up, shivering with a fever, and was totally unable to sleep until about 4 in the morning. Yet incredibly the next morning the worst was over, although I remained unable to eat much at all for the next 4 days or so. Yusuke was so kind and generous- we wandered Shinjuku together the next day, took a quick look at Tokyo Dome (it’s not Koshien I’ll say that much) and went to Akiba for gadget shopping.

Due to my mystery sickness, and the fact I still couldnt digest food, I decided, unhappily, to postpone my first hitching adventure, and instead got the 5 hour highway bus from Tokyo to Nagoya. This allowed me a later start, and a few hours to chill. Saturday had suddenly turned into Tuesday, and I felt strangely readjusted to being in Japan- no excitment, no urge to see sights, just moving around and doing things in a place I already knew well. That night I stayed with couch surfing host number two, Ryoko. Ryoko was a great host too- she has a very unique personality, and a great way of expressing herself in a slightly manic eastern European/Scandinavian accent, as well as a healthily unhealthy interest in ex-Valencia player Amedeo Carboni.  As I couldn’t eat we staying at her place and chatted.

The next morning- Wednesday- I was off! My bag was packed, my signs were ready and my spirits were high as I stepped off the train on the outskirts of Nagoya ready to hitch a lift to Osaka. Unfortunately the highway entrance system is ludicrously complicated, and I kept being told by random passers by to cross over the road. Then, when I was on the other side, someone else would tell me it’d be better for me to cross back! After two hours my patience was wearing thin when a hippie-van stopped in front of me. Yoshi and his girlfriend were on their way to an onsen in the Nagano region, the opposite direciton to me, but being experienced hitchers themselves they knew I just needed to get onto the highway. What lifesavers! Once at the PA I got a ride from a salaryman (he needed some convincing) a few dozen kilometres up the road to Yuro, a major service area just under halfway to Osaka. There I was eventually offered a ride by 5 young Osaka students. They had little room in their rental car, but were still willing to make space for me and my backpack. The next hour and half was a blur of cigarette smoke, loud J-pop tunes and football conversations. They ended up coming off the highway earlier than they needed to to drop me right outside Yodobashi Camera at Umeda station- I’d made it!

That evening I met up with Tom, a university friend who’s been living in Japan for a few months. It was great seeing him, catching up and remembering old friends and acquaintences we’d failed to stay in contact with. He turned out to be good friends with the J-Hoppers Hostel owners, so I got to know them too, and slept solidly in my bed for 10 hours until the next day. Thursday saw my triumphant return to Hanshin Tigers Koshien Stadium, where I bought a notebook some stickers and a poster in the Tigers Shop. I toyed with buying yet another festival coat, or “Happi”, but common sense ruled the day. I wandering through Shinsainashi’s America Mura for the next few hours, before heading back to the hostel. Then I was off once more- on a JR Special Rapid train from Osaka to Kobe. That journey was particularly “natsukashii”- I’d rode the line many times before- and the nostalgia continued in Kobe where I lit a cigarette in Sannomiya’s stone park/sqaure, watching people go by as the sun set. My evening in Kobe was spent- well- typing this- in a cheap capsule hotel/onsen, a relaxing place to stay.

Fear and Thriftyness in Nippon

Ok the title needs some work, but I’m only three weeks away from returning to good old Japan for a two week soujorn. Already loaded up on lunch appointments and drinking parties, I’ll be looking to cut costs while I’m there through the two miracles of hitchhiking and couchsurfing. These two together offer an unbridled chance, a chance many travellers would pay money for, to interact with the land and the landscape, with people and places. Adding in Japanese skills should surely make it all a stress free fun-times-for-all adventure…well we’ll see.

I haven’t updated the blog for a while…that’s because I haven’t been doing a great deal, after the expenses of Christmas I’ve been saving like mad (with all the wild crazy fun that involves), studying my kanji (up to 500 on Heisig’s Remembering the Kanji now!) and occasionally going to the gym (although my right legs been injured somehow).

Three weeks to Japan!!