There was, however, one major issue that means this particular leg of the trip is significantly underrepresented in the photographic record. We were elated on the left hand side of a service that departed at midday on a line where the westerns sun seemed to remain in a steady position providing a continuing source of annoyance and preventing anything in the way of photographic action. Things got so bad towards the end of the journey that we were forced to draw the curtains.
Fortunately, the views on the other side were quite magnificent and the glare issues completely ruled out anything resembling typing, so there was nothing for it but to sit back and enjoy about two and a half hours of magnificent scenery. The last bit, heading across the plain into Nagoya, was the predictable cityscape, and much of the time we spent crossing it was spent pondering the possible outcomes when a train is six minutes late and your connection leaves ten minutes after the scheduled arrival in Nagoya.
An announcement over the P.A. System advised us to speak to the conductor, which, of course, we duly did, but one couldn't help suspecting the normally reliable and on time almost to the second Shinkansen service was going to be kept waiting to allow a couple of stragglers to make the connection. The Shinano is a regular, rather than a Shinkansen, which meant that, once we'd alighted and found our way off the platform we had to find our way onto the relevant platform in the Shinkansen section, something that had both of moving at a fair clip down an escalator, along a passageway and up another escalator to find...
Miracle of miracles, a Shinkansen just coming to a halt, easing into the station just in time for us to board. The train we'd boarded was actually going to our overnight stop at Okayama, but we changed in Osaka, boarding a much more luxurious Sakura that would get us there quicker than the train we'd just left, which was one of the stop at all stations variety.
The reasons for stopping where you do vary, and we were in Okayama because of its location, which makes the city an important transportation hub. It’s the spot where the main Shinkansen line joins the only rail connection to Shikoku, which we were going to be visiting briefly the following day, crossing the Seto-oteshi Bridge. Had that detail not been part of the equation we could well have continued on to Hiroshima.
Okayama's most famous attraction is Korakuen Garden, which is ranked as one of the best traditional landscape gardens in Japan, along with Kanazawa's Kenrokuen and Mito's Kairakuen. The black Okayama Castle, located just across from the garden, is another attraction, but the single item that dominates the city’s cultural environment is a fairy tale.
Momotaro delivered, I must admit, a certain degree of wry amusement, due to the coincidence of mythical hero and a culinary delicacy of which I’m not too enamoured. In the fairy tale, an elderly childless couple find a peach floating down a river, and, when they investigate further they find it contains a baby boy. As is invariably the case in such instances, the couple adopt the child, and given the circumstances in which he was found, name him Momotaro (literally, Peach Boy). The fully grown Peach Boy, announces his determination to rid the neighbourhood of the demons from Onigashima (Demon Island), who’ve been terrorising the villagers.
He’ll need something to fuel his quest, so his aged adoptive mother makes kibi-dango (sweet millet-flour dumplings) to take on the journey. He’ll also need allies, which he finds in the form of a dog, a monkey, and a pheasant who he enlists to the cause by bribing them with the kibi-dango.
Predictably, the demons are defeated, their treasure makes the old couple rich and everyone lived happily ever after. Okayama’s main street, predictably, is Momotarō-Odōri, or Peach Bo Street.
I’m thinking of writing my own version of the story, detailing the adventures of Frock-Stah, the rum ball boy.
The plain on which the city is located produces rice, eggplant, and white Chinese chives while the uplands behind the city produce grapes and (surprise, surprise) white peaches. Proximity to the Seto Inland Sea contributes to several of the area’s signature dishes, including the popular takeaway matsuri-zushi (sushi rice with vinegar, egg and seafood), sold in a peach-shaped box. Other specialties include mamakari, which resemble herring and sawara, a fish whose name is rendered into English as trout or horse mackerel.
And, of course, there’s always kibi-dango.
Which explains why we ended up at a Spanish tapas place that adjoined the hotel