So my last full day in Japan for this trip begins with an earthquake — at 7:19 AM JST, magnitude 4.3. Enough to shake the hotel and make you wonder … was that it? But I’ve never been in Japan that I haven’t felt an earthquake of some level. The islands lie on top of multiple faults and there are frequent little earthquakes. Geologically speaking, better that than one large fault building up pressure.

It was an earthquake in OkuNikko that brought Shoko and I together. So it seems appropriate that we journeyed to OkuNikko on this trip, and took a ride on the sightseeing boat where we first talked with each other25 years ago. 25 years ago??? shinjirarenai … can’t believe it.

Carol and I left Tokyo very early Thursday morning and took the train to Nikko a town north of Tokyo best known for Toshogu, Japan’s most lavishly decorated shrine and the mausoleum of Tokugawa Ieyasu, the founder of the Tokugawa shogunate. Talk about sugimasu — lavish doesn’t really do it justice. Just too, too much ornamentation that seems to go on and on and on … 

This was the first day the weather really didn’t cooperate with us. As we started walking up the hill to the shrine we heard thunder and by the time we got to the first temple it was pouring rain. There were clumps of people under trees and on verandas. We found a gift shop — wouldn’t be a Japanese holy place without at least one gift shop — and bought clear plastic umbrellas for 500 Yen.

We met Shoko at the train station about 3:30 and boarded a bus toward OkuNikko — up the mountain on the road which has a total of 48 hairpins turns. I didn’t realize when I sat next to Shoko in the front seat how much like a carnival ride it would be … as the front of the bus seemed to hang over the precipice before it made every turn. I think I left a hand print in the arm of that bus seat.

We made it to Lake Chuzenji and were off to see the spectacular Keogon waterfall … in the pouring, and I mean pouring, rain. We were not dressed for a monsoon. Sandals and thin socks are not really good footwear for such an occasion. Our 500 Yen umbrellas weren’t very strong. But it was on the agenda and Shoko took off in that direction. One good thing about having Carol here with me is that I now have a witness that I’m not making this stuff up. The waterfall was indeed beautiful … the pictures didn’t come out so well … camera lens fogged up and had drops of water on it.

At least Shoko conceded that we shouldn’t do any more sightseeing there or wait for the next bus, and called her friend Mr. Suzuki (who is a whole ‘nother story … she met him hitch-hiking, trying to flag down someone to give her 88 year mother and 86 year old aunt a ride). He kindly came from the inn where we were eventually going to be staying to give us a ride. On the way back to the inn though, still pouring rain, we stopped to view a waterfall … at the bottom of it. At the top of it. By the time we got to the inn, my shoes were soaked, my pants were soaked. My fingers were frozen. We were up at about 5000 feet altitude about now … spring hadn’t even arrived … the trees were still in bud. At least the inn had a hot springs. Ah. A soak in the onsen. Warm again.

The evening was a magical night. A wonderful dinner. Everything beautifully arranged. The best tempura I’ve ever eaten … so light. Who knows what those green things were that were dipped in a super light batter and lightly fried. Sake. And Carol experienced one of those magical, Japanese gift encounters — Mr. Suzuki gave her a crane kite — which is a story in itself.

Next day, Shoko and I took an early walk before our beautifully presented and delicious breakfast. Even though we would have been happy to stay there several days, duty and other reservations called so we headed back toward Nikko … with a stop in Chuzenji for a ride on that sightseeing boat that we boarded 25 years ago … never knowing then how it would impact our lives.

There’s lots more to talk about but it’s time for breakfast. And I’m in that yo-yo place of looking forward to going home and, at the same time, hating to leave. So I want to savor every last minute of this final day in Japan.

yoroshiku,
j

Three at the falls (L); Shoko and I on the boat (R)

sugimasu is added to Japanese verbs or adjectives when there is just too much of whatever verb or adjective it is attached to. For example, tabesugimashita — I ate too much. It’s a good word for the past few days.

I think I last left you with pictures of Carol and I in kimono. That was … what day? I think last Monday. We finally had to take them off and get back in our regular clothes to get on with the trip. After a walk through the garden outside the Imperial Palace in Kyoto (actually disappointing) and a trip to a sublime garden, Shoei-en, at a home owned by Higashi Honganji, the big Buddhist Temple, we boarded the Shinkansen to Tokyo.

Tuesday we took a long, relaxed walk around the famous lily pond in Ueno  in the morning, met a former student of mine for lunch, then went to the top of the City View building in Roppongi Hills, 57 stories high and the only place we feel we got “ripped off” by a high entrance fee that didn’t deliver. They have changed the experience since I was there last — added an open air roof deck that costs extra, and blocked off much of the 360 degree view of the city. Oh well, some things do change in Japan!

Disappointed with that we went down underground by at least 6 or 7 stories to board one of the newer subways to go to the Ginza and my favorite store in Japan — Kyukyodo — a place with the most exquisite papers you have ever seen. We wound up spending at least two hours there, as Carol went from aisle to aisle saying, “Oh my! Look at this one! Jean, come look at this!” We left a little (sugimasu) American cash there. Afterwards we had our one splurge of a meal at a yakitori (grilled chicken etc) restaurant nearby. Delicious food and sake and fun exchange with the chef.

Next day gardens and walking, walking, walking (sugimasu). A long slow meander through the garden at the New Otani Hotel. Then, a walk around the Akasaka Imperial Palace which I had mistaken on the map for another accessible garden which this definitely was not.  It’s a big place … and walking around the perimeter is a l-o-n-g walk. Meanwhile, we were convinced the guards were keeping an eye on the two foreign women who had tried to get in. It was a very long walk and hot. We needed food. And the only thing we could find that was open was a Japanese Italian bistro by the subway station we finally made it to. Mistake. Absolutely the worst meal of the trip.

But as always in Japan, it’s a combination of high and lows, the sublime and the ridiculous. We went from there to the East Garden of the Imperial Palace in Otemachi. Like stepping back into the 17th or 18th century in the middle of 21st century Tokyo. An oasis of peace and quiet. Don’t remember dinner, not sure we had any. The spaghetti bomb was still sitting heavy in our stomachs.

Thursday morning we actually got up very early, checked out of the inn, took our bulky luggage to the hotel we had booked for our last (sniff, sniff) weekend and caught an early train for our overnight in Nikko with Shoko … talk about sugimasu… the temples at the Togu Shrine are totally too much, as was the pouring rain we walked around in to see the scenic beauty … the trip was a real Japanese magical mystery tour. But I will continue with that story next time … the day is getting on and we have more things to see and do!

yoroshiku,
j

Up and out of the hotel early yesterday morning. Wanted to get to Kiyomizudera before the thousands of other people who would also be headed there. It was about 8:30 AM when we got off the bus and started up the street to the temple, along with about 50 other people.

“Now Carol. If you stop and take a  picture of every interesting flower pot, it’s going to take us a very long time to get anywhere!”

There were already about 5 or 6 buses in the parking lot, which, at this time of day was only about 1/3 full. Navigating the narrow shopping street in front of the Temple wasn’t bad though. There was still room to walk.

“Let’s shop on the way down the hill.”

The temple wasn’t terribly crowded yet so we had an opportunity to take off our shoes and wander through one of the sanctuaries. We got in line behind the school children for an opportunity to kneel before and ring a huge singing bowl. You could feel it’s vibrations throughout your body.

Back outside on the veranda we were approached by a group of school children who asked us to take a picture. We thought they wanted us to take a picture of them. No. They wanted to take their picture with us and enlisted the services of one of the guards to do so.

No sooner had we finished with that encounter then another group of school children approached us. We obliged. Engaged the same guard as the photographer. Took lots of pictures with everybody’s cameras.

Now, this was fun but we really didn’t want to spend our entire day on the veranda posing with different groups of kids. We sprinted around the corner after this last encounter where there was a booth selling trinkets. Oh, and there were postcards on the window and Carol had been looking for postcards. However, when she asked about buying these, the monk behind the counter laughed and said, “Those are not for sale. They’re mine.”

Sans postcards, we continued to wander slowly along the upper path. It was very quiet except for the song of the nightingale. We found a bench where we could sit among the greenery and have the drinks we’d brought with us. Ah, … so peaceful. Then a group of about seven school children came down the path. When they saw us they got very excited. “Oh no,” we said, “Here we go again…”

As they approached us one of the students took a folder out of his bag. He then said, in hesitant English, “Could we ask you some questions. It’s our homework.”So we told them our name and where we were from and our favorite sports. In return, we asked them all kinds of questions, gave them a hard time because they didn’t write the answers in English, and, of course, took pictures of them and us and the homework. Many thank you’s and they were off down the path again.

Ah, peace again … until we looked up and saw another group of children with a folder headed our way.  We didn’t quite get away … this group was from a school in whose windows you can see the reflection of Mt. Fuji. Not a bad view. After this we gave up on the idea of a leisurely stroll around the gardens. “Let’s get out of here before we become a permanent part of the attraction!”

The rest of the day included shopping, eating, geisha chasing (trying to get pictures), walking, shopping, a much needed rest stop in Maruyama park, more walking, cat encounters, more walking, a climb up a whole lot of very tall steps to the temple Chionin, and a taxicab to Shosei-en garden which was closed so we went to HigashiHonganji. By the time we got back to the hotel we figured we’d been on our feet for about 10 hours. A nap was definitely next on the agenda.

Lots more … but I’ll save the story of the traveling french fries for another entry.

yoroshiku,
j

So the trip has changed … no longer focused on the business project. Now I’m a “tourist” in Japan with my friend Carol. Actually I should say I’m a tour guide in Japan. This is Carol’s first trip to Japan so I’m taking her on “Jean’s wandering around tour of Japan.”

In the 35 years I’ve known her she had never expressed an interest in coming to Japan … until this past February. She was visiting an exhibit of Japanese kimono and I got a message on my cell phone . ”Jean, I want to go to Japan!”

So I emailed her, “I’ll be there in May. Want to join me after my work is done?” The answer came back quickly: “YES!!!!”

Over the next three months there were flurries of email about dates, travel arrangement, what to bring, where we’d go, how to arrange to get a Japanese cell phone. After I got here I sent her an email with step by step instructions on how to get through Narita (Tokyo airport) and on to the train to Shin-Kobe. And then, last Thursday night, at 6:58 her train arrived and she came through the exit gate a few minutes later. Of course, she didn’t know that she had to put her ticket in the turnstyle as she exited so was stopped by a railway employee. But with a few laughs, we got that sorted out and here she was. Here we were — in Japan! Who would have ever thought …

After a quick dinner at my favorite sushi place next to the hotel — Sakura Suisan — we had an early evening. After breakfast the next day and, of course, a visit to the Iron Man (tetsujin) statue, we took the train over to the Motomachi station where I needed to meet up with the students for their final presentation. It’s also close to a major shopping street where Carol could wander around. One of the first orders of business was to take Carol to a bank to exchange some US dollars to Yen. We went in to the Mitsubishi bank across the street from the Starbuck’s where we had coffee.

I asked the receptionist about changing money. Yes, the banks actually have reception staff (more than one person) who help you figure out where you need to go and who you need to talk to. The answer was that we couldn’t change money there but … she whips out a hand drawn map of the area, takes us outside with it and explains that we have to go to another Mitsubishi bank building around the corner and go up to the fourth floor to the exchange counter. No problem. So after many thank you very much’s and much bowing we make our way around the block.

Yes. There’s another Mitsubishi bank building. We are guided to the elevators by ladies in uniforms with cute little red hats. Up to the fourth floor we go. Piece of cake, right? Well … not exactly. When we get off the elevator we are in a hall. No signs. No staff. Just a couple of long white halls with a lot of locked doors. Fortunately, someone came out one of those doors, and I asked her about the exchange counter. She pointed to a small red sign down the end of the hall. Oh. OK. Many thank you very much’s and much bowing.

The exchange counter is a small room  — about 10 by maybe 15  — divided in half lengthwise by the counter. The customer side was bare except for three stools along the end wall.  Carol and I were the only people in that half of the room.

The other side of the room had a glass window along half of it, the rest just being a wall. Behind the glass were three ladies at desks, one of whom got up to help us. She helped Carol fill out the form,  took her money and her passport, put them in a small tray, and then gave Carol a small laminated card with the number 36 on it. We looked at it quizzically.

“Please wait a moment,” she said, and motioned toward the three stools. She then turned around and handed the tray to one of the other women. Carol and I sat down on the stools thinking we would have to wait a while.

About 30 seconds later (not even), the woman came back to the window and said expectantly, “Number 36, please.” We looked at each other, we looked around the room. Yep. We were still the only people in there. ”Guess she means us!”

Oh, yes. I knew this was going to be an adventure!

yoroshiku,
j