I'm Sorry My Sister Turned You Parents into Pigs, but There's Nothing I Can Do.
Alternate: "There. Your body matches your brain."
(I had quotes from a different source here, but I realized this was far more appropriate)
Couldn't get the Wi-Fi to work at the ryokan, so I'm posting this today instead (I did write it yesterday). I'll post today's entry immediately afterward.
So I ate Poisonous Blowfish, bathed at the bathhouse which inspired Spirited Away, and am about to sleep on a futon in a traditional Japanese inn. How was your day?
Don't envy me too much - I found out it's too late to get tickets for the Studio Ghibli museum :( (I can hear L admonishing me for not nailing this down sooner; I didn't realize I needed a reservation for a museum)
I was worried that this excursion was a bad idea; it's 5-6 hours to the south; had I chosen a different ryokan/onsen - say one somewhat on the way to Tokyo, e.g. near Fuji - I could have done it today and then made it to Tokyo tomorrow. As it is, even if I hopped on the train first thing in the morning tomorrow, I wouldn't make it to Tokyo until late, so I have no choice but to spent tomorrow back in Kobe, then get up at o-dark thirty on Wed. So I'm losing a day. I kept thinking, “Is this really worth it?”
Hell...yes.
I've definitely leveled up on my travel prowess. It's a good thing I nailed down the Hiragana and some basic phrases during the first week, because I would have been in trouble here. Once I got off the Shinkansen at about the halfway point, I had to take a 2 hr local to get to Matsuyama (yes, I verified this both with hyperdia.com - the best Japan rail web app ever, and M), and NOTHING was in English. This was a change - usually there are a few snippets - at least the town names in Romaji on the map or the scrolling LED displays inside the train...nothing. But at least I could now sound it out. [Haven't gotten the Katakana down yet, but it's not crucial for reading directions]. The town names are often written in Kanji, with Hiragana above them, though sometimes snippets are easy enough to figure out (e.g. anything with mountain, river, field, island, or a cardinal direction in the name - which covers a lot of ground).
It also turns out the the local here had assigned seating in some cars. (It also resembled a plane or the Shinkansen in terms of individual seats. It was a local, but much swankier, than the ones I'd previously been on) The locals near Kobe do not, unless you count the Women Only cars (at least there, it's printed in English, though at this point I can recognize the Kanji for woman and men pretty easily). I was sitting in an aisle seat, and someone who had just gotten on pointed at me and the piece of paper in his hand. I moved over to the window - turns out he had the window seat and was trying to get to it. There were plenty of extra seats, so I moved. The conductor later came through - first time I've seen someone checking tickets on the train. I showed him my rail pass, and he said something about Reserved, which is where I figured out the problem. I apologized (good thing I've got that one down pat), and he just noted the seat and pretty much motioned, “It's okay”...I think. He was smiling, though.
BTW, did I mention that every time the conductor, a steward/ess, or any other person affiliated with the rail company comes through the cabin, they bow at both the entrance and exit? Not sure I mentioned it before.
Anyway, I arrived at Matsuyama around 3 and took the tram into town. I disembarked very close to both the onsen and the ryokan - M did a fantastic job of finding one in very close proximity. M had warned me that the English at the ryokan might be a bit limited; this was an understatement. First, to find the ryokan. It was laid out perfectly on the map, and the sign was clearly visible - in both cases, in Hiragana only (very stylized, too; I barely recognized the 'no' in Umenoya), but I found it almost immediately. The entrance was actually around the corner, and there were already two attendants outside to help. At a ryokan, everyone essentially gets their own assistant for the duration - more on that in a moment.
The ryokan has a concrete wall that hides most of the lower level from the street, but that affords a lovely courtyard and blocks the noise of the busy metropolitan street. As with the temples I mentioned in Kyoto, this is a quick and somewhat startling gateway - step through the threshhold and you're in a completely different world. Low ceiling, tatami floors and shogi screens, etc. One, of course, removes one's shows on entering, which the attendant immediately shows in a cubby near the entrance. After signing in (the receptionist did speak some English), the attendant gave me a guided tour of the ryokan, entirely in Japanese. This is where I started to worry a bit, but thank G-d I studied up on numbers. Dinner was in a communal room (some ryokans provide it in your own room, some use a communal place) at 6 PM, on-site bathing was available until 10 PM, curfew was at 11PM, check-out was by 11AM, etc. There was more to it, but I don't think I followed the rest, and we each stumbled over the few words we knew in the others' tongue, followed by profuse apologies.
There are several rooms, but to get there is to go through a tatami-tiled maze. Each room is more like a suite - the outer door is lockable by a room key, which you hand over to the attendant or receptionist each time before you leave the establishment. Beyond that, there is an individual toilet and vanity, and an open “closet” off to the side which also contains items for bathing and relaxing (towel, yukata, obi, geta, and tabi, plus a cup and spigot at foot level). There is an onsen on-site but, as mentioned, I had other plans for the evening. The room was pretty bare, except for a low table in the room (a “chair” was simply an L shape, so I could sit up and have my legs stretch out straight in front of me, underneath the table with not must room to spare. It was actually very comfortable). A sliding screen on one side hid a TV, phone, fridge, and safe, so there were modern amenities, artfully hidden. The room was mostly square, except for a small indentation for what looked like an area for a shrine, with a vertical wall-hanging consisting of some Kanji I didn't recognize, and a couple of flowers. Off to the side was a small electric water boiler (words are really failing me right now), a teapot, tea, teacups, etc. I had some before I departed - it was excellent.
It was about close to 5 at that point, so I decided to find the Dogo Onsen and take some pictures while it was still light, then return after dinner for actual bathing. On the way there is a beautiful, multi-level pagoda-clock which has very articulated dolls occasionally march around it or appear in place of the clock face to tell a story to the patrons, as the floors rise and fall; it reminds me of the outside of It's a Small World, only without the rendition of a certain ear-worm of a song. I took some pics, then walked another block or two, and dropped my jaw to the floor. It really does look like the bathhouse to Spirited Away. Granted, it's in the middle of a city street, with an indoor mall adjacent to one side, but that does not ruin the effect - I expected to see a No-Face appear, catch a dustball out of the corner of my ear, or glance up at the upper floor to see an oddly-proportioned witch gaze down at me. (The inside, while beautiful in its own right, does not resemble the movie, but who cares? :) )
After snapping some shots, I had a little time, so I headed down the indoor mall. There was a Studio Ghibli store, so I went inside. I saw several items that would make great presents, but I have no idea how to get them back to the US - I think I'd have to ship them. I'll see what I can think of for tomorrow, but for now I let them be. Time for dinner!
Dinner was amazing, and I have many, many pictures of the items - including daikon sushi, beef grilled on a small cast-iron setting in front of me, a chicken and matzoh-ball-ish soup with mushrooms, plum wine, hot sake, tea, etc - but let's get to the meat (pun intended) of the meal. The second item served what appeared to be an artful arrangement of very thin sashimi of some sort, which similar-looking, long, thin flakes on top, flanked by a couple of flowers. The attendant gestured and said “hugu”. From what I remember from Hiragana, there is no “hu”; it's usually translated as “fu”, though the sound is really somewhere in-between. To make sure I understood correctly, I deliberately pronounced it like an American, and she nodded. Seeing my hesistation, she tried to explain a bit more. I mimed swimming like a fish, then puffed out my cheeks. She nodded affirmatively, smiled, and went to finish putting out the dish for the three or four other patrons.
Outside, I smiled. Inside, I freaked.
I headed back to my room (hoping this wasn't an insult) and called M. She said I didn't have to eat it if I didn't want to, and that they probably wouldn't be offended - they'd make allowances for American ignorance. (I'm pretty astonished overall how accomodating and nice the Japanese I've met have been, and have not been condescending or reproving when I've committed a faux pas. On the whole, they seem to take politeness to quite an extreme). She was awed that they served fugu, as was I in a way - it's a pretty expensive delicacy...gives you an idea of the caliber of meal I was being served (which made me feel doubly-guilty for not touching it).
Other removes were served, but I didn't touch the fugu. The attendant politely asked me something about it at one point; I shook my head no (I realized afterwards that maybe making an X with my hands might have helped; that's a common Japanese gesture, from what I can tell - I've seen it several times on this trip), but she didn't remove it.
A couple of removes later, she brought out tempura. She gestured to the still uneaten fugu, then gestured to the tempura. “Hugu”, she said. Two fugu dishes! Well, I thought, maybe I should try a little. All the chefs who prepare fugu are certified. Besides, none of the other patrons have dropped dead. I'll try a little. I took a bite of the tempura, and less than a second later, one of the other patrons went into a coughing fit. My heart stopped for a moment. Of course, it was just a case of food going down the wrong way, but all I could think was, “It only takes one little residual smidge...” Following that panic, I took another bite. Gee, this isn't a big deal at all. Actually, it tasted like a fairly nondescript whitefish. When I talked to M later, she mentioned that she'd heard it doesn't have much taste to it - a statement I can now confirm. It was excellent tempura, and the texture of the fish was perfect, but I'm not sure I'd go out of my way to order it, except for the daredevil factor. I am, all in all, though, glad I tried it.
(for the record, I only had a couple bites of the fugu sashimi; the above statement still stands)
After dinner, I briefly went back to my room, to find that they'd moved the table to the corner of the room and had laid out the futon and cover. I do prefer a hard bed (in Senegal, L's mattress was on top of concrete; I loved it), though my joints have been bothering me a bit lately, so hopefully I'll be okay. Hey, that's what a good hot bath is for!
Dogo Onsen is supposedly a bit confusing, but both M and the Lonely Planet guide described it in detail. I opted for the second-level service, which included tea and crackers in a communal room on the second floor afterwards and a tour of the Imperial Baths on the third floor (G-d, I wish they would have allowed pix there. Some jaw-dropping gold walls and stonework; thankfully, the tour guide spoke some English, so he conducted the tour in both languages, and one of the other patrons translated some of the wall inscriptions. He also talked about the history of the bathhouse in Japanese literature (I'll have to post a link to the very famous Japanese author in question: he sounds a bit like the equivalent to Hemingway or Jack London).
The bathing sequence goes something like this: put your shoes in a locker, head up to the second floor and change into a rental yukata (robe), then come back down and put your belongings, including the yukata, in a locker (not the shoes locker, a different one). Go soap and clean yourself up, then wade into the bath. After you've achieved enlightenment, towel off, change into your yukata, and head up to the second floor to have tea and crackers and talk with the other patrons. Afterwards, go change, then go for the Imperial Bath tour. Then come down to the first floor and, in my case, buy an official Dogo Onsen yukata, then take your shoes and head off into the night, utterly content.
The bath itself was mostly empty, since it was probably still dinnertime for most folks. One person was leaving as I got in, though about 10 minutes later someone else, a local, came in. He asked me something, and I basically said, “I don't know.” He then asked, in decent English, if I knew Japanese. I said, “Chotto” (a little), and he laughed. We talked for a while (mainly in English, but I tried to talk in Japanese whenever the conversation got to something I could handle, like dates, and a few simple sentences, e.g. “There are friends (of mine) in Kobe”). He was a local; I gather this was a common time for him to come here.
I came back to me room, talked to the receptionist about wi-fi (they needed to grab a repeater to plug in near my room), then brewed a bit of tea in my room as I type this. Now, it's time to hit the sack!
(I had quotes from a different source here, but I realized this was far more appropriate)
Couldn't get the Wi-Fi to work at the ryokan, so I'm posting this today instead (I did write it yesterday). I'll post today's entry immediately afterward.
So I ate Poisonous Blowfish, bathed at the bathhouse which inspired Spirited Away, and am about to sleep on a futon in a traditional Japanese inn. How was your day?
Don't envy me too much - I found out it's too late to get tickets for the Studio Ghibli museum :( (I can hear L admonishing me for not nailing this down sooner; I didn't realize I needed a reservation for a museum)
I was worried that this excursion was a bad idea; it's 5-6 hours to the south; had I chosen a different ryokan/onsen - say one somewhat on the way to Tokyo, e.g. near Fuji - I could have done it today and then made it to Tokyo tomorrow. As it is, even if I hopped on the train first thing in the morning tomorrow, I wouldn't make it to Tokyo until late, so I have no choice but to spent tomorrow back in Kobe, then get up at o-dark thirty on Wed. So I'm losing a day. I kept thinking, “Is this really worth it?”
Hell...yes.
I've definitely leveled up on my travel prowess. It's a good thing I nailed down the Hiragana and some basic phrases during the first week, because I would have been in trouble here. Once I got off the Shinkansen at about the halfway point, I had to take a 2 hr local to get to Matsuyama (yes, I verified this both with hyperdia.com - the best Japan rail web app ever, and M), and NOTHING was in English. This was a change - usually there are a few snippets - at least the town names in Romaji on the map or the scrolling LED displays inside the train...nothing. But at least I could now sound it out. [Haven't gotten the Katakana down yet, but it's not crucial for reading directions]. The town names are often written in Kanji, with Hiragana above them, though sometimes snippets are easy enough to figure out (e.g. anything with mountain, river, field, island, or a cardinal direction in the name - which covers a lot of ground).
It also turns out the the local here had assigned seating in some cars. (It also resembled a plane or the Shinkansen in terms of individual seats. It was a local, but much swankier, than the ones I'd previously been on) The locals near Kobe do not, unless you count the Women Only cars (at least there, it's printed in English, though at this point I can recognize the Kanji for woman and men pretty easily). I was sitting in an aisle seat, and someone who had just gotten on pointed at me and the piece of paper in his hand. I moved over to the window - turns out he had the window seat and was trying to get to it. There were plenty of extra seats, so I moved. The conductor later came through - first time I've seen someone checking tickets on the train. I showed him my rail pass, and he said something about Reserved, which is where I figured out the problem. I apologized (good thing I've got that one down pat), and he just noted the seat and pretty much motioned, “It's okay”...I think. He was smiling, though.
BTW, did I mention that every time the conductor, a steward/ess, or any other person affiliated with the rail company comes through the cabin, they bow at both the entrance and exit? Not sure I mentioned it before.
Anyway, I arrived at Matsuyama around 3 and took the tram into town. I disembarked very close to both the onsen and the ryokan - M did a fantastic job of finding one in very close proximity. M had warned me that the English at the ryokan might be a bit limited; this was an understatement. First, to find the ryokan. It was laid out perfectly on the map, and the sign was clearly visible - in both cases, in Hiragana only (very stylized, too; I barely recognized the 'no' in Umenoya), but I found it almost immediately. The entrance was actually around the corner, and there were already two attendants outside to help. At a ryokan, everyone essentially gets their own assistant for the duration - more on that in a moment.
The ryokan has a concrete wall that hides most of the lower level from the street, but that affords a lovely courtyard and blocks the noise of the busy metropolitan street. As with the temples I mentioned in Kyoto, this is a quick and somewhat startling gateway - step through the threshhold and you're in a completely different world. Low ceiling, tatami floors and shogi screens, etc. One, of course, removes one's shows on entering, which the attendant immediately shows in a cubby near the entrance. After signing in (the receptionist did speak some English), the attendant gave me a guided tour of the ryokan, entirely in Japanese. This is where I started to worry a bit, but thank G-d I studied up on numbers. Dinner was in a communal room (some ryokans provide it in your own room, some use a communal place) at 6 PM, on-site bathing was available until 10 PM, curfew was at 11PM, check-out was by 11AM, etc. There was more to it, but I don't think I followed the rest, and we each stumbled over the few words we knew in the others' tongue, followed by profuse apologies.
There are several rooms, but to get there is to go through a tatami-tiled maze. Each room is more like a suite - the outer door is lockable by a room key, which you hand over to the attendant or receptionist each time before you leave the establishment. Beyond that, there is an individual toilet and vanity, and an open “closet” off to the side which also contains items for bathing and relaxing (towel, yukata, obi, geta, and tabi, plus a cup and spigot at foot level). There is an onsen on-site but, as mentioned, I had other plans for the evening. The room was pretty bare, except for a low table in the room (a “chair” was simply an L shape, so I could sit up and have my legs stretch out straight in front of me, underneath the table with not must room to spare. It was actually very comfortable). A sliding screen on one side hid a TV, phone, fridge, and safe, so there were modern amenities, artfully hidden. The room was mostly square, except for a small indentation for what looked like an area for a shrine, with a vertical wall-hanging consisting of some Kanji I didn't recognize, and a couple of flowers. Off to the side was a small electric water boiler (words are really failing me right now), a teapot, tea, teacups, etc. I had some before I departed - it was excellent.
It was about close to 5 at that point, so I decided to find the Dogo Onsen and take some pictures while it was still light, then return after dinner for actual bathing. On the way there is a beautiful, multi-level pagoda-clock which has very articulated dolls occasionally march around it or appear in place of the clock face to tell a story to the patrons, as the floors rise and fall; it reminds me of the outside of It's a Small World, only without the rendition of a certain ear-worm of a song. I took some pics, then walked another block or two, and dropped my jaw to the floor. It really does look like the bathhouse to Spirited Away. Granted, it's in the middle of a city street, with an indoor mall adjacent to one side, but that does not ruin the effect - I expected to see a No-Face appear, catch a dustball out of the corner of my ear, or glance up at the upper floor to see an oddly-proportioned witch gaze down at me. (The inside, while beautiful in its own right, does not resemble the movie, but who cares? :) )
After snapping some shots, I had a little time, so I headed down the indoor mall. There was a Studio Ghibli store, so I went inside. I saw several items that would make great presents, but I have no idea how to get them back to the US - I think I'd have to ship them. I'll see what I can think of for tomorrow, but for now I let them be. Time for dinner!
Dinner was amazing, and I have many, many pictures of the items - including daikon sushi, beef grilled on a small cast-iron setting in front of me, a chicken and matzoh-ball-ish soup with mushrooms, plum wine, hot sake, tea, etc - but let's get to the meat (pun intended) of the meal. The second item served what appeared to be an artful arrangement of very thin sashimi of some sort, which similar-looking, long, thin flakes on top, flanked by a couple of flowers. The attendant gestured and said “hugu”. From what I remember from Hiragana, there is no “hu”; it's usually translated as “fu”, though the sound is really somewhere in-between. To make sure I understood correctly, I deliberately pronounced it like an American, and she nodded. Seeing my hesistation, she tried to explain a bit more. I mimed swimming like a fish, then puffed out my cheeks. She nodded affirmatively, smiled, and went to finish putting out the dish for the three or four other patrons.
Outside, I smiled. Inside, I freaked.
I headed back to my room (hoping this wasn't an insult) and called M. She said I didn't have to eat it if I didn't want to, and that they probably wouldn't be offended - they'd make allowances for American ignorance. (I'm pretty astonished overall how accomodating and nice the Japanese I've met have been, and have not been condescending or reproving when I've committed a faux pas. On the whole, they seem to take politeness to quite an extreme). She was awed that they served fugu, as was I in a way - it's a pretty expensive delicacy...gives you an idea of the caliber of meal I was being served (which made me feel doubly-guilty for not touching it).
Other removes were served, but I didn't touch the fugu. The attendant politely asked me something about it at one point; I shook my head no (I realized afterwards that maybe making an X with my hands might have helped; that's a common Japanese gesture, from what I can tell - I've seen it several times on this trip), but she didn't remove it.
A couple of removes later, she brought out tempura. She gestured to the still uneaten fugu, then gestured to the tempura. “Hugu”, she said. Two fugu dishes! Well, I thought, maybe I should try a little. All the chefs who prepare fugu are certified. Besides, none of the other patrons have dropped dead. I'll try a little. I took a bite of the tempura, and less than a second later, one of the other patrons went into a coughing fit. My heart stopped for a moment. Of course, it was just a case of food going down the wrong way, but all I could think was, “It only takes one little residual smidge...” Following that panic, I took another bite. Gee, this isn't a big deal at all. Actually, it tasted like a fairly nondescript whitefish. When I talked to M later, she mentioned that she'd heard it doesn't have much taste to it - a statement I can now confirm. It was excellent tempura, and the texture of the fish was perfect, but I'm not sure I'd go out of my way to order it, except for the daredevil factor. I am, all in all, though, glad I tried it.
(for the record, I only had a couple bites of the fugu sashimi; the above statement still stands)
After dinner, I briefly went back to my room, to find that they'd moved the table to the corner of the room and had laid out the futon and cover. I do prefer a hard bed (in Senegal, L's mattress was on top of concrete; I loved it), though my joints have been bothering me a bit lately, so hopefully I'll be okay. Hey, that's what a good hot bath is for!
Dogo Onsen is supposedly a bit confusing, but both M and the Lonely Planet guide described it in detail. I opted for the second-level service, which included tea and crackers in a communal room on the second floor afterwards and a tour of the Imperial Baths on the third floor (G-d, I wish they would have allowed pix there. Some jaw-dropping gold walls and stonework; thankfully, the tour guide spoke some English, so he conducted the tour in both languages, and one of the other patrons translated some of the wall inscriptions. He also talked about the history of the bathhouse in Japanese literature (I'll have to post a link to the very famous Japanese author in question: he sounds a bit like the equivalent to Hemingway or Jack London).
The bathing sequence goes something like this: put your shoes in a locker, head up to the second floor and change into a rental yukata (robe), then come back down and put your belongings, including the yukata, in a locker (not the shoes locker, a different one). Go soap and clean yourself up, then wade into the bath. After you've achieved enlightenment, towel off, change into your yukata, and head up to the second floor to have tea and crackers and talk with the other patrons. Afterwards, go change, then go for the Imperial Bath tour. Then come down to the first floor and, in my case, buy an official Dogo Onsen yukata, then take your shoes and head off into the night, utterly content.
The bath itself was mostly empty, since it was probably still dinnertime for most folks. One person was leaving as I got in, though about 10 minutes later someone else, a local, came in. He asked me something, and I basically said, “I don't know.” He then asked, in decent English, if I knew Japanese. I said, “Chotto” (a little), and he laughed. We talked for a while (mainly in English, but I tried to talk in Japanese whenever the conversation got to something I could handle, like dates, and a few simple sentences, e.g. “There are friends (of mine) in Kobe”). He was a local; I gather this was a common time for him to come here.
I came back to me room, talked to the receptionist about wi-fi (they needed to grab a repeater to plug in near my room), then brewed a bit of tea in my room as I type this. Now, it's time to hit the sack!