Photo by Dirk.

Last weekend we went up to Minakami, an onsen, or hot spring, town nestled in the mountains of northern Gunma, with three other families, all friends.

The town itself, with the Tone River running through it and snow-capped mountains rising up in the background, was probably quite picturesque in its day, but not surprisingly some rather large and ugly hotels and mansion apartment buildings, and the almost de rigueur “ruins” of abandoned hotels and what-not (see here), have taken the shine off the place.

But no matter, this wasn’t about the town or the hot spring baths at the hotel (call me a philistine but I just don’t find hot springs all that therapeutic, or even relaxing for that matter) so much as it was about getting everyone together in a relaxed setting. It was only after we got back home that it occurred to me that, while we all share a common general life situation (each couple an “international” marriage, each family with one young child), if it weren’t for this blog and for Gary sending me a “can you link to my blog?” email about three years ago, it’s safe to say that Naoko, Kaika and I wouldn’t have been there.

(Click on the above photo for an album of photos from the trip).

Since I began my journey more or less with Ozu, it was a nice feeling to complete a circle of sorts and end my trip (more or less) by making a visit to the Seishunkan in Matsusaka (Mie prefecture). seishun means youth and the seishunkan is a museum dedicated to the period of the great Japanese filmmaker’s youth (from age 9 to 19, approximately) that he spent in Matsusaka. The museum is housed in a small building made to represent an old-time small town Japanese movie house, and was built on the site of the former Ozu family home (razed in a 1950s fire).

I’m not sure how many visitors they get, as it was clear that the person working there made some calls while I was watching the introductory video and shortly after two older gentlemen who would not have been out of place at a San Francisco beatnik cafe showed up. I’m not exactly sure how they were affiliated with the museum (they seemed to have more access than volunteers), but they proceeded to spend the next hour giving me a personal tour of the exhibits and digging out all manner of albums and diary copies and scrapbooks, and regaling me with all sorts of stories about Ozu’s youth. (I wanted a Japanese workout on this trip and I sure got one today.) I really am indebted to the kindness shown by these gentlemen. It was appropriate that the man who did most of the talking reminded me of my former teacher who first introduced me to Ozu’s beauty.

I’m really glad I made the effort to make it there, as out of the way as it was, though I regret that I didn’t allow more time to explore the town itself (there’s a map available from the museum which notes the places of significance to Ozu’s life).

Given that part of the purpose of this trip was to get away from all the various goings on around New Years time, it’s highly ironic — or just stupid — that I decided on the spur of the moment to visit Ise Shrine, which just so happens to be the holiest Shinto place in Japan. “The ‘vatican’ of Shintoism,” as it has been put. I almost got to where everyone was heading, but the steady flow of foot traffic soon became a solid wall of standing still worshippers, and I didn’t like my prospects of getting there and back in a reasonable time, and so I turned around. And less pragmatically speaking, I started to feel somewhat guilty of my agnosticism. A perverse notion in Japan perhaps, considering that if you asked the legions who were there today, “Are you religious?” the overwhelming answer would be “No!” But having experienced more or less the same thing yesterday at Himeji, seemingly the only person not offering a prayer at the shrine, I knew it would be awkward.

Headed home tomorrow, which is a good thing. Took this tonight from Kobe’s Odaiba-like shopping complex at the port, which does have in its favor compared to its bigger Tokyo sister that it’s a lot more accessible (walkable from any of Kobe’s main stations). An excellent date spot no doubt. Actually I can’t help but see Kobe as one large date spot, which is probably why I haven’t taken to the city as I had hoped, seeing as I don’t have a date nor am I’m looking for one.

The first part of the day was spent at what is generally regarded as Japan’s most beautiful castle, Himeji, about 40 minutes west of here. (It would have made for a better image than the one above but I neglected to take a cell phone picture.) Being New Years Day, entry was free, but the place was packed and not a very pleasant experience overall. The reason for the crowds I discovered when I got to the top of the main tower, as there’s a shrine up there (it’s customary for Japanese to visit a shrine sometime during the first 3 days of the new year).

Naoko warned me that I probably wouldn’t be overly impressed with Kobe’s “foreigner houses” and other attendant vestiges of European presence, and indeed she was right. It does seem to be quite a hit with the kawaii set, not surprisingly.

I hate arriving into a city at night, so hard to get one’s bearings, get a lay of the land. Of course the nice thing about Japan is that no matter where you land, you’re pretty much guaranteed you won’t have to worry about personal safety. Hence I can sit on a bench in Kobe’s Chinatown in semi-darkness typing this out with nary a care other than figuring out how to get back to my hotel.

Unlike my previous stop, Kurashiki wears its tourist heart on its sleeve. Quaintness is just oozing from the mortar and tile of the old granaries (kura) that line the “historical district”. It’s nice, don’t get me wrong, but there’s just something a bit inauthentic about it, a bit disingenuous. Would these buildings still be around had someone not realized the tourist potential of them? On the other side of the station, seemingly far away, there’s a Tivoli amusement park modeled on the famed Tivoli in Copenhagen. But I can’t vouch for it’s fidelity to the original. I only had time to fit in one theme park today.

So-called “debira” (which I take it is a type of flounder) drying out in the harbor of a quaint little fishing village of Tomo-no-Ura, south of Fukayama (2 hours east of Hiroshima by train). Actually “quaint” usually means “touristy” but, perhaps due to it being New Years time, the town seemed refreshing free of the usual trappings that come with picturesque seaside locations. That’s not to say the town doesn’t try to accomodate tourists, especially English-speaking ones who proportionately can’t make up a lot of those who visit here.

I ran into these two Americans from New York the other night, they were on a 2-week trip here (Japan), and they were going on about how Japan is such a hard place to travel, very little information or signs are in English, etc. I was polite and bit my tongue but having just spent a good few hours at the Hiroshima Peace Museum, which had just about the most copious English translations of any museum I’ve ever been to in the non-English speaking world, I couldn’t help but wonder what planet these guys were on (well, I knew the answer, it’s called the American planet). I was thinking about these guys today as I walked about this tiny hamlet I just introduced you to, where every monument plaque, every sign related to sightseeing, not to mention these wonderful engraved maps/sign posts highlighting the tourist trails, is written in both Japanese and English. All for a place that needs a local bus to get to, is probably not mentioned in any guidebook (confession: I don’t have a Lonely Planet Japan), and probably doesn’t see a whole hell of a lot of non-Japanese travelers, comparatively speaking.

I knew I would regret it if I succumbed to laziness and didn’t try to find a place to eat Hiroshima’s variant of okonomiyaki. Not eating meat, invariably when the questions come post-travel — ie. “Did you eat so-and-so ramen?” I always have to answer “No,” which seems to cause the Japanese questioners some degree of consternation. However, okonomiyaki can be ordered niku nashi (without meat). The problem was that I didn’t want to go to a guidebook recommended place with tourist crowds et al (for one thing, when traveling on one’s own it always feels like you’re the only one not with someone at those places). Naoko suggested I just ask the hotel receptionists to recommend a jimoto (local) place, so I did, and they directed me to an establishment a couple of blocks down the street (“Masahisa” I think it was called), and it was just what I was looking for, one owner/chef, only a few customers (one family, a few lone salarymen, one spinstress, and me), and one of those quiz/variety shows with a million talento revealing that even a only-4-years-in-Japan non-native like myself sometimes knows more about the country than the natives do. While nothing that knocked my socks off or seemed radically different than the Osakan variety of okonomiyaki that I’m used to, it was good all the same and I won’t have to feel guilty when those “Did you eat…?” questions come my way next week.

My hotel in Hiroshima. The somewhat tacky sign you can see here highlighting their low rates is about the only uncool thing about the place. When you walk into the hotel, it feels like a boutique hotel, not a 5000 yen ($42) a night place. Lots of hydroponic plants, staff always dressed in black, and a “fireplace” consisting of some logs in front of a plasma tv that has reproduced flames flickering (well, that is a bit tacky too I guess, but….) Comes with a very nice Japanese/Western breakfast buffet too with fabulous onigiri (rice balls). Contrary to most “business” hotels in Japan, my single is quite roomy too, complete with a minus ion doo-hickey and LCD TV.