Monday, 7 April 2008
It was a case of rise and shine relatively early for the first day of the Japan Rail Pass big travel week. When ‘Er Indoors checked us out, the process proved to be entirely devoid of human interaction.
Once she was done, we set off in search of the subway station that would begin the day’s journey.
I hadn’t seen the crowding that people associate with rush hour Japanese subway travel up to this point. You know what I mean, those images of solidly built railway staff on hand to push a few extra passengers into a sardine-packed carriage.
Solidly built people pushers were conspicuous by their absence when we arrived on the platform, joining a dozen people waiting for the next train.
The arrival of the train, however, suggested they’d been needed further up the line.
The carriages were packed, and making our way towards the carriage against a flood tide of black-suited salary-men proved to be somewhat challenging.
Once the previously packed compartments had emptied, we found ourselves almost alone in a strangely empty carriage.
Of course, we were headed out of the city centre, towards ShinKōbe Station, which is, like many of the Shinkansen depots, located slightly away from the main commercial and business area of Kōbe.
We arrived with plenty of time to spare, which allowed us to enjoy a leisurely breakfast before it was time to board the 8:25 service to Kyoto.
Having grown where trains operate much less frequently, I’d been warned that the 8:25 train means the one that actually leaves at 8:25.
That one will arrive, more or less at eight-twenty-three and a half, being a completely different conveyance to the 8:22 which leaves the same platform for a completely different destination.
I’d become accustomed to guidelines on commuter platforms, but Shinkansen stations have barriers with gaps where the doors will open. Amazingly, that’s precisely where they do open. You’ve got a minute and a half (if that) to get aboard and locate your seat before you’re off.
There are three levels of service on the Tokaido/Sanyo Shinkansen lines. The fastest, Nozomi (hope or wish) are express affairs, stopping at a handful of stations.
They aren’t covered by the Rail Pass. That's a pity since they cover the 515 kilometres between Tokyo and Osaka in two and a half hours.
The intermediate Hikari (light or ray) services stop at a few more stations, usually to allow the faster Nozomi to pass.
The slowest Kodama (echo) services stop at all stations allowing faster services to pass through.
Once aboard Hikari 364 Thunderbird 7 (impressive name, or what?) the first section of the journey took us through a tunnel, emerging onto a viaduct comfortably above the surrounding conurbation. Faced with obstacles like hills, Shinkansen services go through rather than over them.
If the obstacle is a built-up area, the solution is to go over rather than through.
Despite the elevation, there wasn’t much to see because of the barriers on either side of the track. There was, predictably, even less when we met with trains heading in the opposite direction.
I did, however, manage to recognize the river we crossed on the outskirts of Osaka, which we reached a quarter of an hour after leaving Kōbe.
While we were travelling much faster than I’d become accustomed to on the commuter services, things seemed much less blurred as we went past. That was presumably because the buildings were below us rather than flashing past at eye-level.
And very peaceful travelling it was, sitting back in airline-style seats with the sort of legroom you might get in business class (if you’re lucky) with something pleasant to listen to:
five minutes out of Kyoto on Shinkansen
timeless rice paddies amidst scattered timber houses
john fahey steamboat gwine ‘round the bend
on iPod.
Fourteen minutes after Osaka, we were disembarking in Kyoto.
The next service would carry us on to Kanazawa, wasn’t Shinkansen-flash but was comfortable enough, with comparable legroom.
Once we’d boarded, I watched as a supervisor (I assume the guard was at the rear) performed some arcane bi-directional ritual to indicate our departure.
Underway I realized what I’d been missing all morning.
There was none of that click-clack Australian rail commuters experience as the wheels cross the gaps between one section of rail and the next.
Mind you, if they did exist, at Shinkansen-speed, they’d probably sound more like machine-gun fire, which probably explains why they don’t (exist, that is).
On the way out of Kyoto, we ran into the patchwork landscape I’d noticed before, a quilt of factories, houses, light and heavy industry, an occasional farmlet, and the odd timeless graveyard.
Interestingly, almost every stream we crossed seemed to have been carefully channelled. As I looked back over the previous couple of days, I couldn’t remember seeing a stream where the banks weren’t lined with bricks, stone or concrete.
I was also bemused by the fact that many seemingly old, traditional houses were sporting reverse cycle air-conditioning units and even satellite dishes.
As we moved into forested slopes above farmland, the villages became scattered pockets between flooded paddy fields. By ten-thirty, we had glimpses of mountains away to the right, more or less in the direction we were headed the following day.
As we neared Kanazawa, we’d passed through the central cordillera, and it seemed considerably cooler than on the other side of the divide.
I guessed the weather on this side was influenced by colder air emanating from the depths of continental Asia. The eastern coast was, I suspected, influenced by a warm ocean current, in much the same way as the Gulf Stream moderates temperatures along North America's east coast as far north as Newfoundland.
It may have been the haze I’d noted throughout the past few days, but the air looked colder, particularly off towards the mountains where we were headed tomorrow.
Once we’d arrived and found our way out of the station, we had a slight problem finding the hotel. We went straight past the street where it was located, thinking it was a lane-way too insignificant to feature on the street map.
But eventually we realized we’d gone way too far, backtracked, and found it. Once we'd deposited the suitcase, we headed off in search of lunch before an afternoon seeing the sights.
Between the hotel and the station complex, the Forus shopping centre featured a floor of restaurants, so it seemed the right place to direct our attention. After completing a circuit of the level in question, we opted for the G&O (Gumbo & Oyster) Bar.
Around this time, I realized that Madam wasn’t kidding when she said you could find any style of food in Japan if you knew where to look.
I wouldn’t, however, have thought of setting out in search of Louisiana cooking in Kanazawa.
‘Er Indoors selected a set menu with a variety of New Orleans-style treats, which she reported was okay while I ordered a couple of oysters natural and a bowl of seafood gumbo.
It obviously pays to be a foreigner eating early.
When the oysters arrived, there were four of them, plump, juicy and beautiful. The bowl of gumbo also went down well, washed down with a glass of good Chablis.
Suitably fortified, we set off to locate the tour bus that does a clockwise circuit around twenty sites of interest and skipped the first couple of sites before alighting at the stop closest to the geisha quarter.
As it turned out, we’d misheard the bus driver’s directions. We should have headed left along the river bank rather than turning left straight off the bus and turning right at the sushi bar.
Instead, we headed along the river. We turned left just after we spotted a couple using a camera, a tripod and a timed delay to get a photo of themselves against a background of cherry blossom.
I took a couple of photos from the same spot before the guy with the tripod asked us whether we’d like a photo of the two of us against the same backdrop they’d used.
We accepted, passed over the camera, and the reader can see the result.
By this time, we realized we’d taken a wrong turn, but knew where the geisha quarter had to be and headed off in that direction.
An accommodating old gentleman also helped to put us on the right track.
We stopped at a traditional building set up as an information centre. Based on the information received there, we retraced our steps to a place where we could tour a recreated geisha house.
The camera battery decided to pack it in as soon as we walked through the door. As a result, we didn’t walk away with a complete photographic record of an establishment set up the way things would have been.
Anyone with a mind to sample geisha entertainment might be interested to learn there are still eight houses in the quarter offering the traditional treats. But be warned - it doesn’t come cheaply.
A ninety-minute session would set you back $US 1500...
From there, we headed to the bus stop, boarded the next bus and headed off to Kanazawa Castle and more sakura.
As soon as we alighted the rain, which had been threatening, decided to do a little more than threaten.
So we walked through the drizzle, managing to complete a loop around Kenrokuen before deciding that enough was enough and heading back to the hotel to check-in, rest and recharge the camera.
We figured with a break of an hour or so we could head off on the second-last bus for the day, get a couple of photos and catch the final bus back to base.
We emerged from the warm and dry hotel to find that conditions were cold, drizzly and miserable. When we’d boarded the bus earlier in the afternoon, it had been crowded.
Now, three or four hours later, it was, practically deserted.
Since we knew where we were going, we planned to snap a couple of photos of the sakura in front of the castle, then do a quick lap of the garden.
But as soon as we embarked on the exercise, the camera decided to inform us there was no more space on the memory card. That was just as well since we only just managed to catch the last bus back.
At the station, we booked our seats for the next stage of the trip, then headed back to Forus for dinner.
We opted for a Korean eatery that wasn’t quite what the doctor ordered and eventually returned to the warmth of the hotel, hoping things would turn out better on the morrow.