Noboribetsu Onsen

Today I took the train and the bus to Noboribetsu Onsen, a spa town up from the coast and south of Sapporo.  Went into the baths at the Grand Hotel, formerly patronised by the Imperial family. They have clearly fallen on hard times, as I seemed to be the only customer. It was newer than I was expecting from the description in the Lonely Planet guide, although the circular room resembling a Roman bath was present. As promised, there were a number of different regards. A bath containing water with iron, which among other things was supposed to help fertility. Next to it was a bath with salt, which was Efficacious for the menopause. And a sulphur  bath, which was good for the cardiovascular system. I took no chances, and used all three. There were also baths outside, which were particularly nice on this sunny spring day.


Next, I went to hell. Or, more accurately, the Mouth of Hell, an area of quite spectacular volcanic activity. A number of geysers, which apparently started up at regular times. And some wonderful colours in the rocks from the sulphurous water bubbling from the fissures in the ground. A bit like Rotorua in New Zealand, but no bubbly mud The smells were much the same, though.


The Birds, and The Beers

Not having been able to organise a trip to the modern Sapporo Brewery outside the eponymous city, I did the next best thing and went to the Sapporo Beer Museum, set in the original and first beer brewery in Japan. Most noticeable for the collection of posters advertising the product for the past century or so. And, of course, sampling the product itself. Three beers  for ¥500. Including one that was true to the 19th century recipe, although this a bit sour and mild for my taste. 


Back to the railway station by bus where I found a vending machine which dispensed tickets for a 1000 yen haircut. Quickly and thoroughly shorn, I made my way to the  Botanical Gardens, including a small but perfectly formed Northern People’s Museum. The gardens were smaller than I expected, but included a reasonable collection of plants and trees and shrubs mainly from Japan. Highlights included: an herbarium of plants used by the Ainu people, a greenhouse full of tropical specimens and vistas of trees in bloom including inevitable sakuras. Lunched at the equally invitable Starbucks. Thence for a pleasant wander around a now sunny Nakajima-koen (park). Much Sakura and beautiful sunshine. 

An old woman with food; a murder of crows; she flees; they pursue. Hitchcock meets Benny Hill chase scene.

Stumbled across the beautiful Sapporo Concert Hall and wished there was a concert I could attend.  But it was too late for some and too early for others. The fleetingness of things :-(

Goodbye Hakodate, Hello Sapporo

Tuesday 


 A much better impression of Hakodate today. Wandered around the morning fish market and had prawns and sea urchin for breakfast. Took tram to Motomachi, where 19th C Europeans made their mark. Visited the old British Consul’s residence, the Old Public Hall and the Russian Orthodox Church (with Russian Orthdodox Muzak playing in the background). Up the local volcano by cable car for cloud-swirling panorama of the city and harbour and seafood lunch. Then visited a fascinating museum dedicated to Ainu culture. Dinner in Chinese restaurant. No seafood. 

 Wednesday 

 Another prawn breakfast at same place as Tuesday. 10.4O train from Hakodate to Sapporo. Caught glimpses of sea through the mist. Made a brief stop at Mori (absit omen?). Turneresque sea views. Then clearing somewhat. Arrived Sapporo just before 2pm. Far view of snow-streaked mountains. Got some Kumamon accessories and a Sapica card at the subway (sic) entrance. The hotel gave me a room on the top floor. The 13th. In China, they usually gave foreigners rooms on the 4th.
Essential supplies for first day in Sapporo.

Essential supplies for first day in Sapporo.

Hakodate

After many attempts, I seem finally to have lost my iPod during the trip to Kyoto and Nagasaki. 


 Sunday 12 May Relatively lazy day. Tried to phone Dad to wish him happy 82nd birthday, but call went straight to voicemail. Lunch at Korean BBQ place with K. Shopping in Urawa, whence we went for a congenial sushi dinner at the home of one of K’s colleagues. We made short work of the matcha-flavoured castella I brought back from Nagasaki. 

 Monday 13 May Caught the crowded Shinkansen from Omiya to Aomori on the northernmost coast of Honshu, whence I caught a more ordinary train to Hakodate on the southern coast of Hokkaido. Stopped at Sendai, of tsunami fame. Train almost empty by Aomori. Nice sedate ride alongside the beach from Aomori. Hosts of yellow daffodils. Down into a tunnel. Up into Hokkaido. No fuss made about the transition. Much more wooded and emptier landscape. More beach hugging. Low cloud. Sakura beginning to blossom. Snow dusting the far hills which overlook Hakodate. First impressions of the town were so-so. Perhaps I have been spoilt so far in Japan, but the route from the station to the Puppy Tail Pension struck me as rather bleak, in an English provincial sort of way. The pension is good value for the ¥5,700 I am paying for two nights.. Nice Japanese style tatami room with futon. Friendly reception staff. And the yukata in the room actually fits me. Can’t seem to find a shower room for gents though: the only one I can see seems to be for ladies only. Wandered out, and was enticed into a drinking joint with sashimi. Ordered an Asahi super dry, which might perhaps be a faux pas in Hokkaido, but they seemed OK about it. Didn’t seem to bothered about helping me with the Japanese-only menu. So stuck to the beer. Soup came free. After a couple of beers, concluded I rather liked this place. 

 Tuesday 14 May Intended to go at the crack of dawn to see the local fish market in full swing but was prevented from doing so by my natural indolence. Had a nice meander around the stalls though, and breakfasted on sea urchins & prawns on rice. Now for some indolence-free sightseeing with my all-day tram pass.

People in Hakodate do seem very friendly. They keep telling me it’s a good time to see Sakura.

Nagasaki

Can’t use the Nozumi super-fast train with my Japan rail pass. So to get from Kyoto to Nagasaki, I had to take the ordinary Shinkansen to Osaka, and then the Sakura Shinkansen to Hakata and then the Hakata train to Nagasaki. Stressed because I was running late and couldn’t contact my CS host as the battery on my mobile phone was exhausted and the socket on the train didn’t seem to work. Affected my ability to appreciate the lush Kyushu scenery from the train window. 


 After some difficulty, eventually contacted and met my Kiwi CS host, Sam from Christchurch. Revolving sushi dinner, then beer and shochu at his favourite izakaya.  Nice.

 Torrential rain on Friday morning. Caught train into central Nagasaki, then tram to Dejima, the fascinating site of an artificial island constructed to house a Dutch trading post, the only permitted contact with the West during Japan’s self-imposed isolation from the mid 17th to mid 19th centuries (they were allowed because, as Protestants, they owed no loyalty to another temporal ruler, and managed to persuade the Shogun that the English were Catholics). The museum did an excellent job of re-creating this microcosm of old Dutch life. It was like walking into a Vermeer painting. 

 To Chinatown for a bowl of champon, as contributed to the local cuisine by the long-standing Chinese community in Nagasaki. Chinatown and its restaurants packed with school kids. The rain eased in the afternoon, so I braved the Peace Park, the memorial to the victims of the US bomb. It includes the marker on the spot over which the bomb detonated, and numerous sculptures from countries across the World. As with Hiroshima, the museum near the park is indescribably moving. And demonstrates what happens to various substances at very high temperatures. 

 Thence to the hill-top memorial to the local Christians and Jesuits crucified in 1597. Didn’t make it to the Madame Butterfly statue, but I’d probably had enough death in the afternoon. Perhaps one fine day. I will return.

Friday evening at Sam’s with two girls (from Argentina and Poland) who turned up to Couchsurf and dance. Back to Tokyo on Saturday. Train stopped Kokura on the way back. Which I remembered was the primary target for the bomb which fell on Nagasaki but the weather made them switch. Another rainy day. No view of Mt Fuji. Dinner with K at Tokyo American Club.  As an antidote to all that good Japanese cuisine, I got stuck into the antipasto buffet, steak and mud pie ice cream.

A Perfect Day In Kyoto

Paid 500 yen for a Kyoto one day bus pass. Good value, if I’d known that it doesn’t work on all buses.. Went to Ryoan ji  with  the famous Zen rock garden which you will have seen in books and magazine, but, with all the people, there was not much Zen going on.  However, there were were schoolchildren giving lessons on how to count to 14 in Japanese. The gardens around the temple were more peaceful and rather beautiful. Views of lake and irises, and lake or irises. A teacher used me to give his pupils an impromptu English lesson. As I was walking to the bus stop later, they gave me a cheery wave from their overtaking taxi. 


 Thence to the Ginkakuji Temple on the other side of town. Exquisitely Zen and mono no aware.. Beginning to suspect that in Japan a temple is simply an excuse for another garden. My Kumamon bear t-shirt was much appreciated by teenage girls (“cute!”). Made my way afterwards to the Honenin temple  (peaceful). And then strolled along the Philosopher’s Path.

Lunch in Gion and wandering more shrines there, before getting a bus to Kyoto Station for excessive food shoppng and nearby Starbucks, where Kumamon was rewarded with a special coffee cup.

Clubbing all over the World.

I am writing this in the Tokyo American Club because it has a reciprocal agreement with the National Liberal Club. It’s very much a Tokyo haven for North Americans and their sometimes boisterous families, although parts of the club - especially the bars and the rather splendid  Winter Gardens - are (thankfully?) reserved for adults. The Club is in a five-storey, modern but beautifully-designed building whose crowning glory is the roof-top swimming pool, with good surveillance opportunities of most of the foreign embassies in Tokyo (Russia and Afghanistan are close neighbours). There is a gym and fitness centre, which I avoided, and a library from Milton Keynes,  which I frequented. The Club also boasts a Family Changing Room, useful if you don’t particularly like your current one.  The dress code is smart casual: a boon for those of who are travelling the World to avoid tuxes. The food is more American than Japanese, but still good, and not over-expensive by Tokyo standards. Reasonable wine list.


The Club charges reciprocal members a 5,000 Yen (about £30) returnable deposit for the electronic key and card, and a non-returnable 5,000 Yen fee for using the Club for a fortnight, which you may do thrice-yearly. A letter of introduction is very much required. The mainly Japanese staff are friendly, polite and efficient. Everything works. Accommodation available.

It is quite different from the reciprocal clubs I visited since I embarked on my post-retirement tour of the World. The clubs in India (in Secunderabad, Bombay, Delhi and Calcutta) all retained echoes of the architecture, traditions, mores and cuisine of the British Raj, albeit with a new ruling caste. All had good libraries and wonderful large rooms with large armchairs in which to escape the Indian-ness of India and relax. They tended to be surrounded by extensive grounds with traditional swimming and sports facilities. They were clubbable, with members who were more than happy to spend time chatting about their lives and country.  The service was variable: in one club, it got steadily worse on successive visits, until a member vouchsafed that you needed surreptitiously to undermine the no-tipping rule. No charges for reciprocal members, but they tended to make heavy weather of verifying my credentials.

I will not be critical of the British Club in Bangkok, as I hope to re-visit. It was an oasis of phlegmatic, old-fashioned Britishness: a pleasant early 20th Century building nestling among the skyscrapers and chaos of the city centre. Had both Thai and British menus. I accidentally gate-crashed an Agatha Christie film evening and then a club committee meeting looking for the bar. They were very good about it, considering.

More thoughts about the transience of things

Mono no aware and Japanese beauty. Suntory museum of art. Tokyo Midtown

Just been to this small but perfectly formed exhibition


 Mono no aware, according to the organisers, are the sensitive exquisite feelings experienced when encountering the subtle workings of human life or the changing seasons. Used since the Heian period. Use of Chinese character for sad to render Japanese word aware associates it with sad or fleeting experiences. But this nuance is not intrinsic to the phrase: being deeply moved by emotions may include love and joy as well as sadness. Although not so much in my case.

My favourite exhibits were screens with scenes from the Tale of Genji. So Ive seen the cartoon, now need to read the book. i also liked the portrait of Sei Shonagon in a hanging scroll on silk, sitting above a sparse winter scene. Other faves were a room devoted to depictions of the moon, a screen of cute quails with pampas grass on gold background and one of wagtails and bamboo flecked with snow.