Japan: Day 5: Magome and Sumago

Departure was once again perfectly on time with destination: Nakatsugawa, a small mountain town. The ride, which lasted one hour and 20 minutes from Matsumoto, took us through valleys, rivers and high mountains. Our train silently devoured the tracks and it felt like being in the Italian Alps: breathtaking views of the surrounding mountains, some of which still covered in snow, lush forests, bridges and valleys crisscrossed by rivers and streams. Lulled by the movement of the train Lindsey dozed off on her seat and missed some of the best views we faced on our railroad journey. The ticket taker did his round and, as customarily, before leaving the car turned around toward the passenger and bowed, I involuntarily compared him to our ticket takers who will seldom even say “hello” or “thank you.”
Our stay in Nakatsugawa was quite shot, enough to hop on a local bus toward the small mountain town of Magome on a ride that lasted about 30 minutes. Magome is one of those historical post towns that most foreign tourists wrongly dismiss but are popular with local tourists. It’s that kind of place that could be used to represent your typical country town in a Japanese postcard: The main road leading up on a somewhat steep hill cuts the town in two with a stream on one side and blooming cherry trees on the opposite. Small shops and restaurants open up on both sides offering local products and specialties from the area. At the bottom of the hill a watermill spun feverishly outside of a temple from which a smell of incense and smoke came out.
The air was surprisingly warmer than Matsumoto, regardless of the altitude gain and we stripped off of our warmer clothes to wear shorts and t-shirt. The town was lively with Japanese visitors and the many stores were busy offering samples of their products. This made Lindsey feel like a kid in a candy store as she had made a habit to sample everything that was available and often made a full lunch out of it. People seemed genuinely happy to feed us with their products, which, in this region are centered on honey and chestnuts. Arrived at the visitor center we dropped our backpacks there, taking advantage of a delivery service which transports the luggage to the nearby town of Sumago, leaving hikers free of unnecessary weight. The over the mountains 5 miles / 8Km long hike was by no means what our seasoned Jackson Hole legs would consider a strenuous hike. Camera in hand we started the uphill trail and soon found ourselves out of town. Up and down on several mountains we crossed cultivated fields, waterfalls, streams and woods and often stopped to scratch an itch on our shutter fingers. Several times we were crossed by large groups of older people going the opposite directions and taking the easier, paved road who, every time we met, exploded in a choir of “konnichi-wa”. We replied we just as much enthusiasm. Even today, well over a year after our adventure in Japan, when hiking and crossing somebody, Lindsey and I look at each other whispering “konnichi-wa.”
Crossing the Japanese countryside was part of my childhood dreams about Japan and I was grateful that I grabbed the chance and made it happen.
In the mid-afternoon we finally arrived in Sumago, similar in style to Magome but smaller and somewhat tighter in construction. All buildings are made of a dark wood, probably cherry and reminiscent of the age of the samurai. I expected to be jumped by a few ninjas any time. It did look exactly like the towns from the Japanese animation of my youth: Ken the warrior, Sasuke the samurai and Ninja Kamui. We were a bit overwhelmed by it all: the passing of people, the view of the mountains, the smell of wood mixed to the one of soup coming out of the many soba shops on the street and the variety of colors so we sat down on a bench and took it all in, as a light drizzle fell on us covering the place of a gray veil.
Having picked up our backpacks from the tourist office we hopped on a bus to the near town of Nagiso, a mere 10 minutes away, were we caught a train to Nagoya, the fourth biggest city in Japan. Nagoya welcomed us with torrential rain, a real deluge, of which I will not see the like until a year later in Scotland.
Ninjas and dragons don't scare us, and neither does the rain. After exploring the maze of shops in the basement of the station, we ventured in the city. We noticed immediately how flourishing it was with its big brand name shops everywhere, from chocolatiers to high fashion. It seemed for a moment to be back in Tokyo with its large roads and neon lights, but moving away from the station was enough to discover another city within the city, one that felt much smaller and less overwhelming. It felt as if we arrived in a different place than the city where we were just a few minutes before. Fifteen minutes later we found our hostel, with a name just as long and unpronounceable as there ever was, and by far the biggest hostel we ever saw: 8 floors and 2 wings. The lady at the reception was of an exquisite kindness, I won’t remember her name, but I remember those people who make me feel at home. We asked and were given a Japanese style room, with tatami and tea service as we had in Matsumoto’s Ryokan. Upstairs we had common showers and even an Onsen. We decided to spend two nights here and use Nagoya as hub for our next two days so that we don’t have to carry our heavy backpacks with us. Our next visit is to Takayama where we will have a chance to see an authentic Spring Festival, all hotels there are full because of it.
Curry around here is quite popular and cheap therefore curry shops are to be found everywhere. That was our dinner.

Japan: Day 4 : Matsumoto

The third morning in the Land of the Rising Sun started well before sunrise. I’m a morning person, and that helps a lot when you are a photographer as you want to be up early in order to catch the best light. As we opened the front door of the Ryokan we realized that the Castle was right in front of us, the night before we could not see it, it took us exactly two minutes to walk to it. Even if the sun wasn’t up yet, there was enough light to see every detail. The area was not deserted as one might have expected, but lively with old people taking a morning stroll and photographers checking their gear. We walked around the moss, inhabited by large Koi fish and huge swans and passed by a group of Japanese teenagers who were having a breakfast picnic on the grass in the castle’s park. They smiled and waved at us at our sight and we reciprocated. I figured foreign visitors were not popular that time of the year. I sat up my tripod and started playing with my camera setting while Lindsey took off for her daily jog. A few hours later we rejoined to take a tour of the castle itself and stepped within the walls, inside the inner gardens. The gardens cover a large area and our timing was just perfect: the cherry trees were in full bloom and painted the courtyard with patches of white, red and pink: a spectacular display of nature that has made Japan famous worldwide. By mid morning the place was full of visitors of all ages so after some time spent photographing the exterior we stepped in to learn a bit of the castle history and architecture. The castle was built by orders of the local Shogun (Lord) fearing an attack that never happened. The inside was made entirely in wood and dark with small windows, a nice contrast to the blue-heron colors of the outside. To reach the top floor we had to climb a staircase with a pitch of nearly 60 degrees letting room for some people to come down. 60 degrees is really steep.
Ended the visit to the castle we visited the adjacent museum which had a collection of objects from many different centuries and offered a wider explanation of the history of this region. Much of it was written in English.
After splitting and consuming a giant and very tasty hamburger (about 15cm / 12” wide) we strolled around town to get a better idea of what Matsumoto looked like and search for new photographic opportunities. Matsumoto counts nearly 300 thousand people, and yet it feels like being in a very small town, people are relaxed and the stress of city life is not felt.
Once back in the Ryokan we planned for the following day and headed out to dinner where we found a Soba restaurant, where, after being welcomed by the old owner, he cooked from scratch two delicious bowls of soba while we watched. We were the only people inside and appreciated the care he out in preparing our food, we decided that was the best soba we had had until then.
We packed our bags and managed to be in bed by 10.

Japan: Day 3: Out of Tokyo and Old Castles

There’s something about waking up in a foreign country. Even early mornings always start with a smell of excitement at the possible adventures that will present themselves to us. Waking up in Japan was no different. The rain was coming down slowly but rather than being bothersome it added to the atmosphere. Before leaving for this trip I had planned a series of shots that I intended to execute and some of them were based on neon lights reflecting off pools of water on the streets. The weather was playing in my favor.
Lindsey and I happily walked around Shinjuku for most of the day and in the evening even ventured in a theatre to watch part of a Kabuki play. Kabuki is a highly stylized Japanese dance-drama type of play, we had to let our imagination free here as it was too complex to understand and my rudimental notion of the Japanese language could not come to the rescue. So, instead, we made up our own story and pretended that the actors where saying things that, most likely, were the opposite of what they were actually saying, turning the drama into a comedy.

Since my arrival in Japan I took the decision to use the little Japanese I know and try to get better at it. I have always been good at languages and I enjoy learning new ones and communicate with local people in their language. This was going to take a considerable effort. I already noticed that when I’d address Japanese people in their language they’d reply with an avalanche of words that would have scared even the most seasoned member of the American Avalanche Association. Japanese people love to talk to strangers, that much is clear; my hope for an easy and concise answer was often smashed by a lengthy answer full of details that I could sometimes grasp, some other times pretend to grasp, but always ending with a polite bow and big smile on both parties.
On our third day in Japan we took the shinkansen for Nagano, famous for the 1998 Winter Olympics. Japanese trains are famous worldwide not just for their speed but also for their timeliness; in fact our train departed Tokyo perfectly on time and arrived perfectly on time. In Japan a train is considered “late” if it departs over 3 minutes from the scheduled time. In many countries a train is not considered late if it departs at all.
Nagano is located in the central part of the Japan Alps, therefore surrounded by mountains. With over a million people it is certainly not a small town, and yet one can feel the difference with a city like Tokyo. It has the mood of a mountain town, a slightly overgrown mountain town perhaps, but fascinating nonetheless. With peaks towering in front of us and valleys behind, the name Alps for this mountain chain seems quite appropriate.
Once left our backpacks in the station lockers (lockers are available at all stations. I applaud a country that doesn’t get intimidated by terrorism) we strolled up one of the main roads away from the center with just the essentials (our cameras) toward the temples area. The walk of about two kilometers took us across the city through building that grew steadily smaller as we moved away from the station and a cool breeze that filled our lungs with mountain air. The temples we visited were truly impressive: the wood hand worked with incisions of an indescribable care and decorations made in the minutest details. I took photos of every corner and niche I could find, outside as well as inside (with the due respect to the local deities)
It wasn’t before late that our stomachs were growling and we looked for a small restaurant recommended by a nice lady at the information office back at the station. It only took us a few minutes to find it. When the lady said it was small she really meant it, it had a total of six tables. The price of the plates was good for such a popular and historical place, being located just outside of the gardens of the main temple. With just around $10 / 6.50 Euros we ate several things including a generous bowl of soba with freshly made Udon noodles. The waitress did not speak English and the menu was Japanese only and I was proud of myself for making a real effort and communicate with her in her language and being able to understand most of the menu. After just three days I had noticed a serious improvement in my reading skills, at least as long as the text is written in katakana and hiragana. I admit I didn’t know much, but what I knew was enough to get me by. After lunch we stopped by the main temple again to listen to a monk playing the drum. The sound had a defined cadence and was repetitive and it fit perfectly the grey and windy day. On the way back to the station we stopped at a large bookstore to examine some books on local geography and see if by their photos we could find new great places to explore. We don’t like planning too much in advance as that tends to put us on a path that doesn’t allow for changes. When we plan day by day we remain open to unexpected itineraries, particularly after talking to the locals.
Once retrieved our luggage at the station we hopped on another shinkansen (we surely love our unlimited rail pass), this time heading to Matsumoto. With major disappointment our train left late: 3 seconds (I had my watch synchronized with the station’s clock). Needless to say we arrived perfectly on time and walked in the dark (just like in Europe all streets are well lit) toward the Ryokan that we booked in the morning. Ryokan are similar to an old style inn, usually run by a Japanese family and the service is exquisitely Japanese. This was our first Ryokan so we were excited at the idea of trying a type of hotel that caters mostly to Japanese clientele, and foreign tourists like us, who like to immerse themselves in the culture of the country they visit. In fact, when we called to book, the lady who answered (in English fortunately) asked us if Japanese accommodation was ok with us.
After a not too long walk, during which somebody came out of their house to help us find our way, we arrived at the entrance to Matsumoto Castle and our Ryokan just outside of it. At $30/night it was quite a bargain. At the small reception sat an old lady with an old grandma smile; one of those people you want to hug the first time you see them. For some reason unbeknownst to us she decided that we understood Japanese perfectly and started giving us all sort of information. Saying that we were overwhelmed was quite an understatement but at the same time we were highly amused.
Fortunately after a while, a period short enough during which she could have recited the first two chapter of “Hamlet,” she called the lady with whom I spoke on the phone (her daughter) who helped us to our accommodation. As we enter we were pleasantly surprised: the room wasn’t huge, but much bigger than we expected and cozy. Two tatami mats sat rolled up on the floor against one wall on top of a straw mat; hanging on two hooks on the wall we found a set of night kimonos. An old TV with VCR as well as low table with a tea set on it decorated the room, which had its own shower and (tiny) bath tub. Simple old curtains ornate the window and a few decorative panels hang from the walls. In the bathroom we even found toothbrushes, toothpaste and shaving razors. In our countries we don’t even find these amenities in hotels that cost you $200 a night.
Our Ryokan is located just outside of the castle, which is an international heritage monument. We went out looking for a place to eat and walking around small streets at night, moving away from the tourist area we came by a restaurant packed with locals. The menu was entirely in kanji so unintelligible to either one of us, but seeing a restaurant filled with local people is always a good sign so, after building up a little bit of courage, we walked in. The place was quite large, most tables were occupied and the air was heavy with the smoke of cigarettes. Japan, for all the great things it has going for itself, unfortunately it’s one of those country were a large percentage of the population smokes and smoking is allowed nearly everywhere. As a non smoker I feel bothered by the fumes, but I, and Lindsey as well, decided that we were in for the cultural aspect of it. The waitress brought us in the back room and we sat on the mats with crossed legs at our low table imitating everyone else. Had it not been for my Mediterranean complexion and Lindsey’s bright green eyes nobody could have ever guessed that we were not locals. To our surprise the waitress gave us a sheet with an approximate translation of the menu in English, but being great Japanese food lovers we decided to go with our original plan, which was ordering pretty much everything in the menu. We shared some Okonomiyaki (a type of omelet, one of our favorite dishes, the mountains version here being slightly different than what I was accustomed to. I introduced Lindsey to it a month before our trip when I invited my friend Sugi over to my place and together we cooked Japanese dinner), a rice dish with tiny sardines (the smallest I had ever seen, almost too cute to eat) and a cold chicken-based dish, among other things. Dinner was delicious and, regardless of the smoke, the ambient was comfortable and jovial. We left the joint quite happy to have lived a full-immersion cultural experience rather than spending time in the usual touristic places. Off the beaten path: that’s our motto.
Once back at the inn, we out the tea service to good use brewing some green tea and set our alarm clock for an early wake up call. It was 11 pm.

Arrival in Japan

I had dreamt of visiting Japan since I was a kid. When I thought of it I painted in my mind images of big cities, rolling hills, cherry blossoms and tall mountains. In college I took Japanese as an elective because my fascination with this country didn’t fade as I grew up and listening to my Japanese native teacher speaking conjured up the images I had as a kid. After three failed attempts, it finally came the day when I was going to see all this with my own eyes… and my camera's "sensor"; at last a photographic trip across Japan. The 12 hours between Houston and Tokyo were spent watching movies and absorbing the information contained in my faithful Lonely Planet guide and it wasn’t long before the landing gear touched down on Japanese land. Nihon e irashai mase, welcome to Japan, pronounced the flight attendant.
I wasn’t even out of the gangway and I already had a grin on my face that I couldn’t wash out. My first mission was finding the travel agency on the ground level where I could exchange my voucher for an unlimited use 14 days train pass and meet up with my friend Lindsey who was arriving on a different flight. The agency was easy to find and Lindsey showed up an hour later, right on time.

Those of you who read my Peru blog will remember that on that occasion Lindsey showed up three hours late, making me wonder if she’d show up at all.

Getting to Tokyo was easy and the train ride across the countryside was enjoyable. At the station we met a lady from Singapore who made a trip to Japan to admire the cherry blossoms (sakura) her yearly pilgrimage. Her fluency in Japanese helped us get some subway tickets to Asakusa, the part of Tokyo where we were staying, but somehow managed to get us lost inside the train station. I rarely get lost, my inner compass seems to work quite well even in places I have never been to before, it must be a sense that gets developed with years of traveling, but I followed her because it seemed she knew where she was going… so we thought. Once we found ourselves again, and the right train, we ended up in Hasakusa. It was dark. The very pleasant lady from Singapore was still with us as she had not booked a hotel and trusted that we had made the right choice. All we had was the address to our hostel and my knowledge, gained in college, that Japanese streets don’t have names and therefore when people tell you how to get to a place they often draw a map or ask the police which, not unlike Scotland, major task is to help people find their way. I remembered a nightmare I had months before when I dreamt of being a pizza delivery guy in Tokyo, I had woken up with a sense of panic.
I saw a police kiosk on the opposite side of the street and asked, in a rusty Japanese that had not seen a grammar book since college, for directions. Out of professional deformation, I have no idea why I did that, I also asked where was the closest camera shop. The police was very friendly but even after they consulted their maps for a while their directions didn’t help much. We ended up walking for about thirty minutes to finally get to destination, and find out that the hostel was just 5 minutes walk from the subway station we got out of, had we taken the right path. Lesson learned. We stopped at the bar downstairs for a little while to talk to the other hostel residents and ask about their experiences then called it a night. I pretty much fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed and slept deeply in the silence of the night (no sarcasm, it was really quiet).