This entire post was written and edited at work. I am a bad employee.
Helooo!
It’s T-minus four days until I fly home, and I must admit I’m terribly excited. Not only for the being-homeness, but also for the flight itself. Perhaps this is a little known fact about me, but I love the act of traveling. Even if the destination isn’t particularly to my taste (although in this case it is), I love the “getting there” part. Planes are definitely high on my list of modes of transportation, and I also enjoy cars and trains. I’m not sure about boats, as I haven’t made too many sea voyages. I harbor a secret affection for airports and train stations as well. There’s just something about the high concentration of fast food, coffee stands, and souvenirs; it’s magic. And then there are the travelers themselves; the families with children, some of whom are restless and cranky, some of whom are being as good as gold towing their miniature pink rolly suitcases behind them. The men in suits scrounging the gates and trashcans for abandoned newspapers, the groups of grungy 18 - 20 year olds wearing huge backpacks with extra pairs of shoes dangling off their backs, and the couples either bickering or being so lovey-dovey it makes you feel a) happy to see two people so happy together, b) slightly depressed and therefore annoyed with them, or c) a little bit of both.
I fancy there’s something mysterious and romantic about me when I’m traveling alone. “Where is she going?” the other passengers are obviously wondering, and spend their time constructing elaborate and fantastical explanations for why I am all by myself, why I have so much luggage, and how much candy I actually have in my carry-on-it seems to be an inexhaustible supply. For this reason I choose my outfits very carefully when I fly alone, and a pair of sunglasses is always included in the ensemble. In order to exude and aura of mystery and romance, you need to dress the part, which means you must wear sunglasses-- ideally, very chic and stylish ones. Me, I’m going with a pair of aviators I bought in Matsumoto a few weeks ago. Maybe some boots, too. We’ll see.
At any rate, I promised a journal entry about my trip to Takayama last weekend, and I’d hate to disappoint, especially since it was such a nice trip. We left Saturday morning from Tatsuno: me, Sarah, Ian, and Sarah’s boyfriend Shaw who had arrived in Japan the previous Wednesday. Needless to say, the poor guy was still heavily jet lagged and was fairly quiet all weekend. Takayama is in Gifu prefecture, one of the prefectures that share a border with Nagano, so it was about a three-hour drive. There was a lot of snow up in Gifu. A lot. Takayama, as the name suggests, is up in the mountains, so we were gaining elevation as we went, and there were a few white-knuckle moments in Sarah’s tiny car. That being said, it is incredibly beautiful country up there, and it snowed, and continued to snow, the entire time we were there.
Welcome to Takayama!
We arrived in Takayama at around two in the afternoon, parked the car, and decided to walk around for a bit before having lunch and deciding what to do next. Takayama is a place famous for it’s old-style buildings and streets (it kind of reminded me of Williamsburg except, you know, Japanese.) It’s a very charming little city, with lots of little shops and restaurants. In a turn towards the odd, the more modern side of the city was decked out for Christmas and was playing Christmas music from outdoor speakers. We walked around for a while before stopping for lunch at a local restaurant. Neither Sarah nor Ian had been prepared for the cold or the snow, and weren’t dressed entirely appropriately for the weather. Needless to say, they were both quite grateful for the chance to warm up. We decided to find a place to stay the night after lunch, and then find an onsen before going out for dinner.
Ohmygod! It’s snowing! We need umbrellas to save us from the deluge!
We ended up getting rooms at a ryokan called The Murasaki. It was pretty spare, but since we didn’t intend to spend much time there, it was adequate and comfortable enough. The owner did point us in the direction of a nice onsen. He gave us directions entirely in Japanese and I’m proud to say that after only a few screw-ups, we found it. It was the most expensive onsen I’ve ever been to (1000 yen! That’s like $10!) But it was pretty posh and at that point we were all thankful for a rejuvenating warm-up in some sulfur baths. Sarah and I met Ian in the parking lot afterwards, where he was trying to cool down after having sat in the same hot bath for the whole hour. Any onsen goer worth her salt knows that the art of the onsen is balance! You need to temper the hot bath with the cold bath, and spend just as much time in the outdoor bath as you do sitting on its ledge. Anyway, he got what was coming to him for flouting these basic tenets of bathing.
It is your own fault
That night Sarah insisted on drinking quite a lot, although Ian was peculiarly restrained. I of course had a glass of wine, half a glass of beer, and couldn’t drink anymore. At the second bar we went to I ordered ice cream, and at the third drank glass after glass after glass of water. That night and all the next day I never felt like I didn’t have to wee.
The next day was action packed! I woke up at eight, let everyone sleep until eight-thirty, and then got the ball rolling so we could be out by nine and catch the last two hours of Takayama’s famous morning markets. After a fair amount of shopping (done primarily by Ian and myself) we stopped for a coffee warm-up and planning session. We decided to head over to Hida no Sato, a collection of ancient houses arranged into a village outside of Takayama. These houses have been culled from all over Japan so they can be preserved in places like Hida no Sato. On our way, however, we caught sight of the infamous Main World Shrine, which the Lonely Planet describes as dominating Takayama’s Western skyline. This architectural monstrosity is the primary place of worship of a crazy new-age religion, and apparently the people living in Takayama quietly ignore its existence. Of course, we had to pay it a visit, and this visit to the Main World Shrine carries on my tradition of visiting cult-y locales (see my fictitious essay, My Visit To The Church of Scientology: What was really in that enormous globe?).
The picture with me in it
The thing is huge and walled, with an oddly Jewish feel because of all the Stars of David, which are apparently not really Stars of David but just look like Stars of David according to a kindly cult member who showed us the main hall. He was pretty nice, like all new age religion weirdoes are, and I’m sorry to say that both Ian and Sarah seemed to be rather charmed by him. The main hall was pretty cool, in a creepy, Alice in Wonderland kind of way. The shrine at the front of the hall is covered in flowers, and there’s a huge fish tank set into the wall with live koi swimming back and forth, and a miniature village at the top where the enshrined god lives. There are tons of video cameras everywhere, and enough seats for hundreds of worshippers to sit and offer prayer. The man gave us a pamphlet full of vagaries and pronouncements, and then I asked him about the big red ball on the shrine roof. “It’s not a pickle,” he said, rather sadly. “There’s a type of pickle that looks just like it, but it’s not a pickle. It attracts the power of god, and it sits on lotus leaves, which are holy.” Privately, I’d thought it looked more like a radish, but from that moment on I definitely thought of it as a giant pickle. After a few more pleasantries, we politely said our goodbyes and piled back into the car to make the trip to Hida no Sato, the huge golden roof and red pickle shrinking behind us in the distance.
Hida no Sato-at last!
Hida no Sato is a lovely reconstructed village, and the old houses are very interesting although I grew tired of taking off my snow boots to enter every house, and eventually just started walking in, seeing as much as I could from the entryway, and walking out again. There’s not much in them, anyway. Ian and I had an impromptu snowball fight and then made reconciliatory snowmen. Mine is the one that doesn’t look like a snow freak.
Snowman-or Snow MONSTER?!?
After Hida no Sato, we had lunch, did a bit more shopping, and hit the road back to Nagano-ken. Takayama was a good little weekend getaway, and I think I can safely say that a good time was had by all, except maybe for Shaw who was looking pretty tired throughout.
I just love persimmon trees covered in snow. Does that make me a bad person?
Feedbag Forum:
Mango with Sticky Rice!
Very easy to make and delicious to eat. I used green mangos from the Philippines and I have to say, wow! Why didn’t anyone ever tell me that green mangos kick the shit out of the regular kind? Green mangos are now, I can say without a trace of doubt, my new favorite fruit. Long live the green mango-Fly high my friend: Fly high and free, forever!
There probably won’t be any more entries before I come home. I can’t wait to see all of you. Ja ne!