I spent the greater part of today walking around naked.
I braved the trains again today, and with a lot of help from the guy at the service desk, managed to not only catch the right train but get off at the right station, not a particularly huge achievement as it was only the next stop. However after alighting the train it seemed like I had been transported a much greater distance.
I had found a guide pamphlet in the hostel earlier that day that promised there was a bathhouse walking distance from the train station next down the tracks. Having no other plans yet I set out to find the promised onsen.
Now Narita still hold all the hallmarks of being close to the city, but nearby after alighting at JR Shimousa Manzaki Eki it is a very different world. Less than 10 minutes by train and you feel like you've travelled hours into the countryside. I leave the station following my handwritten map copied from the onsen's website, pass a few small shops, and suddenly I am amidst beautiful traditional houses, with manicured gardens and hedges, and most of all rice fields.
Needless to say I got lost, but after some great directions from a cute little old lady tending her vegetable patch, I righted myself. Only 5 wrong turns this time, I am improving. I eventually discovered the Yamato no Yu bathhouse. I entered and received my locker key, made a few simple gaijin (foreigner) mistakes, like not removing my shoes in the right place, and almost missing the showers. I had stripped off, and finding myself not as self-conscious as I thought I would be stepped into the tannin stained water. Heaven.
There are no words, the relaxation is absolute. Oh my onsen
Monday, 5 July 2010
Kiwi Invasion
Oh my god, sharing a hostel with a New Zealand school exchange group is hell. They are still on NZ time and woke up at 4am. So rude.
Sunday, 4 July 2010
Diet & Exercise
After some serious deliberation, and hiking up the hills and stairs of Narita. I have come to a decision. Both the turtlepack and I both need to lose weight. Granted the hiking up the hills and stairs of Narita has already helped me in this plight it has not helped the turtlepack which is still grossly obese. Before I leave Narita the turtlepack is going to suffer from bulimia nervosa and have a massive purge, I'm thinking about 10kilos. It is going to be a huge wrench but already after only a day or so travelling I have a good idea of what is going to be really necessary and what is not. Bring on the purge.
Narita-san Shinsho-ji
Determined after yesterday's escapades to not let Narita beat me, I arose this morning and trudged back through the humidity to the train station. Once again I got lost, I am sensing this is going to become a theme on my travels. However this time I happened to get lost in the right direction. I had followed my nose down past some interesting looking shrine-like statues, that were part of a construction site, only to come face to face with a sign telling me that I was going exactly the right way. I didn't have very ambitious dreams for today, I set myself the goal of finding the Narita-san Shinsho-ji (the main temple here in Narita) and check out the surrounding gardens, and I had managed to stumble onto the road that leads straight to it.
The narrow road ambles down the hill to the temple, and is lined with food stalls and restaurants. I stop into one for breakfast, rice wrapped in nori, and continue pottering down the street. Everywhere along the road interests catch my eye. Small shrines down alleyways, a barrel of live fish for sale, sealed bags of pickled things I don't even recognise. It is all so beautiful and quaint, each shop attendant takes such care to set out their wares. There is such elegance in the simplicity and the care. Further down the hill I reach the temple gate, it is magnificent, with stone stairs leading upwards, solid hardwood beams raising a peaked tile roof, stone guardians giving cold stares from either side. I pass the gate, it is cool from the water nearby, there is a bridge. Crossing the bridge looking at either side I can see statues of mini deities on either bank and large stone markers. There are small bare islands in the water to either side of the bridge, to my right there are only wishes or prayers in the form of coins thrown on the island, but to my left the water teems and the island moves. It is covered in turtles. They seem to converge just under the bridge, people must feed them.
I continue through the temple buildings, climbing up stairs to the buildings and down hills to the gardens. No one is taking photos, I'm not sure if it is not allowed, I cannot read the signs but it does not seem right to anyway. It is so serene here, the gardens are lush and green with little stone faces poking out at you from unexpected places. I follow the sound of running water down mossy stone stairs to a waterfall, the brook it creates has stepping stones across it. With timid footing I cross, to find a paved room built into the rock. There are spouts in the face of the rock, it would almost be a shower room if there was more water today, but it only trickles lightly from the top. I turn to leave and come face to face with an ugly carving. A shrine built to house a very angry looking deity.
I continue down the garden paths and park myself on a stone bench near a bridge and babbling water. Every now and then the sounds of a modern life penetrate the peace, a plane over head, a leaf blower maintaining the order of the garden, and a jogger who has lapped me twice. There are carp making ripples on the surface of the brook occasionally leaping high out of the water to capture their insect prey, the turtles watch them from the rocks, still sentinels.
Looking out over the trees, I can understand how the art of Bonsai was created here in Japan, the leaves and flowers of all the flora are so dainty, they really do lend themselves to smaller trunks than that which nature has given them. It makes sense then that an art form has emerged to train the trunks to better suit the diminutive ilk of the leaves.
The narrow road ambles down the hill to the temple, and is lined with food stalls and restaurants. I stop into one for breakfast, rice wrapped in nori, and continue pottering down the street. Everywhere along the road interests catch my eye. Small shrines down alleyways, a barrel of live fish for sale, sealed bags of pickled things I don't even recognise. It is all so beautiful and quaint, each shop attendant takes such care to set out their wares. There is such elegance in the simplicity and the care. Further down the hill I reach the temple gate, it is magnificent, with stone stairs leading upwards, solid hardwood beams raising a peaked tile roof, stone guardians giving cold stares from either side. I pass the gate, it is cool from the water nearby, there is a bridge. Crossing the bridge looking at either side I can see statues of mini deities on either bank and large stone markers. There are small bare islands in the water to either side of the bridge, to my right there are only wishes or prayers in the form of coins thrown on the island, but to my left the water teems and the island moves. It is covered in turtles. They seem to converge just under the bridge, people must feed them.
I continue through the temple buildings, climbing up stairs to the buildings and down hills to the gardens. No one is taking photos, I'm not sure if it is not allowed, I cannot read the signs but it does not seem right to anyway. It is so serene here, the gardens are lush and green with little stone faces poking out at you from unexpected places. I follow the sound of running water down mossy stone stairs to a waterfall, the brook it creates has stepping stones across it. With timid footing I cross, to find a paved room built into the rock. There are spouts in the face of the rock, it would almost be a shower room if there was more water today, but it only trickles lightly from the top. I turn to leave and come face to face with an ugly carving. A shrine built to house a very angry looking deity.
I continue down the garden paths and park myself on a stone bench near a bridge and babbling water. Every now and then the sounds of a modern life penetrate the peace, a plane over head, a leaf blower maintaining the order of the garden, and a jogger who has lapped me twice. There are carp making ripples on the surface of the brook occasionally leaping high out of the water to capture their insect prey, the turtles watch them from the rocks, still sentinels.
Looking out over the trees, I can understand how the art of Bonsai was created here in Japan, the leaves and flowers of all the flora are so dainty, they really do lend themselves to smaller trunks than that which nature has given them. It makes sense then that an art form has emerged to train the trunks to better suit the diminutive ilk of the leaves.
Saturday, 3 July 2010
Humidity 99%
They really weren't kidding about the humidity here in summer. Yes, here, as in Japan, as in I made it this far.
Once again airports, it turns out, are the same in Japan as they are everywhere else. I managed to clear customs without the excitement of being searched, bought a train ticket, and even managed to catch the right train. Be proud of me, I am. After alighting the train at Narita Eki things did not carry on however, in the same carefree manner that my trip has had so far.
I got lost, and then I got more lost, so I asked for directions. I obviously picked the wrong person to ask, because then I got more lost. An hour later, all I had managed to do was find my way back to the station, something I considered an enormous success after walking around like a twit, lugging the turtlepack in this ridiculous humidity. I have a monsoon under my T-shirt right now, not pretty.
At this point, I sought refuge, air conditioning and diet coke in the sanctuary known more commonly as McDonalds. I pulled out my trusty sidekick Warren to see what he had to say about the matter. Turns out I had taken 6 wrong turns in the space of 200 metres, before now I didn't even think that was possible and the reason I hadn't been able to right myself was the map I had had Chrystler as a landmark which turned out to be a Peugeot dealership. Not cool.
After receiving this ingot of wisdom from my dear friend Warren. I then proceeded to walk directly to the International Guesthouse AZURE Narita, Japan only to discover it is closed til 4:30. So here I am, sitting in their stairwell, leeching off their WIFI, dreaming of nice hot shower, until someone arrives to let me in.
Right now, I can't think of anywhere else I would rather be.
Once again airports, it turns out, are the same in Japan as they are everywhere else. I managed to clear customs without the excitement of being searched, bought a train ticket, and even managed to catch the right train. Be proud of me, I am. After alighting the train at Narita Eki things did not carry on however, in the same carefree manner that my trip has had so far.
I got lost, and then I got more lost, so I asked for directions. I obviously picked the wrong person to ask, because then I got more lost. An hour later, all I had managed to do was find my way back to the station, something I considered an enormous success after walking around like a twit, lugging the turtlepack in this ridiculous humidity. I have a monsoon under my T-shirt right now, not pretty.
At this point, I sought refuge, air conditioning and diet coke in the sanctuary known more commonly as McDonalds. I pulled out my trusty sidekick Warren to see what he had to say about the matter. Turns out I had taken 6 wrong turns in the space of 200 metres, before now I didn't even think that was possible and the reason I hadn't been able to right myself was the map I had had Chrystler as a landmark which turned out to be a Peugeot dealership. Not cool.
After receiving this ingot of wisdom from my dear friend Warren. I then proceeded to walk directly to the International Guesthouse AZURE Narita, Japan only to discover it is closed til 4:30. So here I am, sitting in their stairwell, leeching off their WIFI, dreaming of nice hot shower, until someone arrives to let me in.
Right now, I can't think of anywhere else I would rather be.
Good Morning Incheon
Greetings from the Hotel June in Incheon (just outside Seoul).
It would seem I have made it back to the northern hemisphere fairly adventure free, I am sorry to report. My flight was long, and boring with just a hint of turbulence. The food was great.
Landing; the only highlight, however was actually impressive, because it was uneventful. Not just because we were stopping into a country I have never been to before, but because of the visability. There was none. How the pilot managed, I have no idea, but I could not see the ground until we were about 100m from it. So the fact that touchdown was silky smooth was surprising, and a bit disappointing. I was hoping I could tell you all about my brush with death on the plane, but there was no brushing to be had.
After alighting from the plane I discovered that airports in Korea look pretty much the same as airports everywhere. Customs did not even do me the courtesy of searching me, damn my trustworthy good looks. I found the transfers desk for Asiana easily, and hopped a shuttle bus to Hotel June, where after a terrible complimentary dinner and a great nights sleep, you now find me, about to grab some breakie, and jump the shuttle back to the airport.
Onwards, to the Land of the Rising Sun.
P.S. Coolest thing - Blogspot automatically translates all its buttons to Korean over here, good thing I knew which buttons were which otherwise I would never have been able to post
It would seem I have made it back to the northern hemisphere fairly adventure free, I am sorry to report. My flight was long, and boring with just a hint of turbulence. The food was great.
Landing; the only highlight, however was actually impressive, because it was uneventful. Not just because we were stopping into a country I have never been to before, but because of the visability. There was none. How the pilot managed, I have no idea, but I could not see the ground until we were about 100m from it. So the fact that touchdown was silky smooth was surprising, and a bit disappointing. I was hoping I could tell you all about my brush with death on the plane, but there was no brushing to be had.
After alighting from the plane I discovered that airports in Korea look pretty much the same as airports everywhere. Customs did not even do me the courtesy of searching me, damn my trustworthy good looks. I found the transfers desk for Asiana easily, and hopped a shuttle bus to Hotel June, where after a terrible complimentary dinner and a great nights sleep, you now find me, about to grab some breakie, and jump the shuttle back to the airport.
Onwards, to the Land of the Rising Sun.
P.S. Coolest thing - Blogspot automatically translates all its buttons to Korean over here, good thing I knew which buttons were which otherwise I would never have been able to post
Friday, 2 July 2010
Gate 56
So here I sit, boarding pass in hand, posting what is to be my last Australian post for a while, finding out the answer to a question I asked myself about 6 months ago. The question being, do I have the ability (the balls) to pack up my life into the turtlepack and go travelling, without friends or support, barely speaking the langauge, just me, Warren (my trusty laptop) and the turtlepack... and still have an awesome time doing it...?
The answer so far... is 'yes'
The answer so far... is 'yes'
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