House of Red Leaves

There is a famous phrase in Japan, ‘You haven’t seen real beauty until you’ve seen Nikko.’ So far on this trip, I haven’t really seen a thing. Only darkness. I wake up at 9 a.m., and the first thing I do is take a look at the view from the ryokan window. No skyscrapers here, only mountains and sky.

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Outside, the air is clean, and a reasonable 20°C, so I take one last soak in the outdoor onsen before paying for the room and leaving. I realise once I am all the way at the bus stop that I’ve forgotten to pay for my ice cream. The bus stop tells me I have half an hour before the next bus, so I decide to explore the Yumoto onsen area.

Despite this being the highest point in these mountains that the bus chooses to stop, and at an altitude of 1,475 metres, there is a huge natural lake up here. Lake Yunoko, translating to mean, ‘Hot Water Lake.’ The lake sits almost completely still. Formed twenty thousand years ago when a nearby volcano erupted, the lake is a nesting ground for wild ducks. A sign beside the lake says that ‘fresh’ landlocked sockeye salmon and rainbow trout swim in these waters.

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I take a wander around the water. At the south end, a waterfall; at the north, the view is somewhat ruined by a construction team nestled at the edge of the lake. It isn’t quite clear what they are actually doing, other than making noise and ruining the otherwise peaceful scene.

My bus eventually arrives. The elderly residents use their hand on the Suica card machine instead of actually scanning their cards. Presumably, they don’t have electronic cards on the mountain, and by the looks of it, they get to travel on the route bus free of charge.

The bus swings back down the mountain, passing impressive scenery. Mountains sit quietly in the distance, the view very much different from the journey yesterday. Toward the bottom of the bus route, I see some interesting red leaves, so decide to hop off.

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“Koyo” refers to the colourful autumn leaves in Japan. They spread across the country starting from the north and moving south. This process takes about two months and is known as the koyo front. Almost completely opposite to cherry blossom season, but getting equally as popular, people come to areas of nature such as Nikko to view these leaves in the autumn.

Beside the area of red leaves, I see a sign for a World Heritage Site, Toshogu Shrine. The shrine is the place where Tokugawa Shogunate founder, Tokugawa Ieyasu, is enshrined. It was built on his orders and used as his hideaway, and I can see why he chose this area. The view from the entrance to the shrine is an impressive mix of mountains and wildlife, the perfect place for a military leader to spend his free time.

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Inside the temple grounds is the origin of a Buddhist proverb about not dwelling on evil thoughts. A statue of the three wise monkeys, Mizaru, Kikazaru, and Iwazaru, sits over the shrine. The proverb is rather well-known and translates to, ‘See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.’

At the entrance to the temple grounds sits the five-storey Gojunoto Pagoda. A sign beside the pagoda tells me that the structure is the same height as Tokyo Skytree. I think this is a translation issue, as this pagoda is a mere 36 metres tall, whereas Tokyo Skytree is an impressive 634 metres tall.

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What I think is meant by the sign is that the elevation here is 598 metres, meaning that the roof of the pagoda is at the same elevation as Tokyo Skytree. Perhaps this is merely a coincidence, but I would guess that Tokyo Skytree was built at this specific height so that it shares the same point in the sky as this famous pagoda.

After visiting the temples, I take a wander around the Nikko area. I see a shop selling ‘Heritage Nikko Cheese Egg,’ and would be a fool to pass up on the opportunity to eat a Cheese Egg. It costs just ¥100, and completely shatters my ignorant assumption that the Cheese Egg would contain at least one of the two ingredients in its name. Instead, I find myself eating a bland, tasteless cake. The primary flavour: disappointment.

I continue my wander and spot a cigarette machine with some advertising above it that would never be allowed in England.

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I make my way back toward Nikko Station. The area around the station has a selection of small shops all selling exactly the same things—souvenirs. Other shops sell more souvenirs, and more shops sell the same souvenirs as the other twenty shops. The stallholders here are cashing in on a popular Japanese custom, omiyage. In Japan, when you visit another region, you are expected to buy souvenirs for everyone else who couldn’t make the trip. So for me, I have to buy everyone I know a gift.

Wishing I had purchased Cheese Eggs for all, I instead opt for a relatively pricey box of Strawberry Pie. I chose this gift because I enjoyed the English text; it reads: ‘Plenty of choice of strawberry red, so happy tea time we can enjoy this strawberry pie.’ Whatever that means.

After shopping, I wave goodbye to Nikko from the train station platform; the view of Mount Nantai in the distance is simply stunning.

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From the train, I watch the mountains disappear. A thrilling two-hour journey to Ueno awaits, then it is back to the chaos of Tokyo.

On the Other Side of the Mountain

Today, I am exactly halfway through my trip. To celebrate, I have decided to take a break from city life and booked a night at a Japanese inn, known as a ryokan. It is situated in the middle of the mountains in a place called Nikko, in Tochigi Prefecture. My plan for the next few days is to experience a more traditional side of Japan.

From Asakusa, I pay ¥2390 for an express train taking 140 minutes. At Shimo-imaichi Station, I have to change to a dreaded local train. On the platform, I wear a short-sleeved shirt. A Japanese man says to his friend, “Look at that guy; he must be freezing!” I admit, it is a little cooler than Tokyo, but I only have to wait two minutes at the cold station platform. I eventually get on the local train. It sounds like a roller coaster as it claws its way up the mountainous tracks. The train’s only luxury is its heated seats; they make the whole train smell like the inside of a giant hairdryer. Five minutes later, I arrive at Tobu-Nikko Station.

I head out of the station and onto an old bus; the transport on this trip is getting progressively worse. The place I am staying tonight is at Yumoto Onsen; ninety minutes from Nikko Station and some 185 kilometres north of Tokyo. It’s just gone five, but the sun is no longer visible. The bus crawls through the darkness. A warning says, ‘Hold onto the handrail as the bus will sway from side to side as it makes its ascent.’

The bus eventually arrives at my stop, the last stop. I pay ¥1700. This is also the last bus. I am trapped up here now; no coming back. Outside, it is freezing cold—the coldest I have been since leaving England. Luckily, at the bus stop, I am greeted by warm smiles. A Japanese woman with a sign is waiting for me. We head to her car, and she drives me thirty seconds to the place I will spend the night

Inside the ryokan, she takes me to my room—the biggest room I have stayed in since being in Japan, spacious and warm. It has a massive double futon laid out, and a table of equal size. The woman starts by preparing me a hot cup of green tea before leaving to prepare my dinner. I get dressed into my yukata, carefully ensuring I cross it left over right; crossing it the other way is how the dead are dressed at funerals, and I am not dead. I also make sure to tie the bow behind me; a bow at the front is how prostitutes dress.

At 7 p.m., the woman comes back into my room to serve me dinner.

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My food consists of buttered trout, salmon, vegetable tempura with natural salt, radish, simmered sesame tofu, lotus root, miso gratin with cabbage, yuzu pepper salad, grilled eggplant, fried tofu, boiled tofu in a soy milk pot with mushrooms, rice, a selection of vegetables, a selection of pickles, and a couple of things I can’t identify. The entire meal is pescatarian, and all the food is of the highest standard. I don’t usually like tofu, but up here, it is made from the cleanest of mountain water and tastes phenomenal.

After a while, the woman comes back into my room to clear and clean the table before bringing me dessert. In comparison to the huge dinner, my dessert is somewhat anticlimactic.

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I help myself to a couple of the complimentary bottles of Autumn edition beer before deciding to take a dip in the hot springs. I book the outdoor onsen for forty-five minutes. Outside, there is not a single sound. The stars are out. Mountains loom in the distance. The contrast of boiling hot water mixing with the cold winter air is wonderful and relaxing. After my time is up, I head indoors to onsen number two.

The indoor onsen doesn’t offer a window, so there isn’t much of a view. It is a rather lonely experience. After I get out, I take a shower. It is etiquette in Japan to shower before and after getting into a hot spring bath, so this is actually my fourth shower this evening. I notice weighing scales in the changing room; I haven’t weighed myself since before I came to Japan. After a massive meal and a not-so-massive dessert, I am surprised to discover that I am 7kg lighter than when I arrived in this country.

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Back in my room and with kilogrammes to gain, I decide that the perfect way to cool off is with a delicious tub of homemade cream cheese and alcohol-flavoured ice cream. Sulphur from the onsen taints the experience slightly, the smell of rotten eggs lingering in the room.

I sip quietly on complimentary beers with the window wide open, wrapped up in my traditional Japanese clothing. The clean cold air is nothing more than a fresh distraction to the silence that engulfs me. Outside, the only thing I can see is hot smoke billowing from the many hot spring baths and the dark outline of mountains in the distance.

So Long, Tokyo, and Thanks for All the Fish

After a month of staying at the best hostel in the world (and finally memorising all nineteen stops on the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line), it is time to move on. The anticipation of spending eight hours on two different trains is something I lack. To avoid a whole day of travel I instead book a really cheap hotel at Kokura, which is the destination of the first of two trains.

At Tokyo Station, I purchase a ticket for the bullet train, the Shinkansen Nozomi. This high-speed train reaches speeds of up to 186 mph. After handing over my ¥22,310, I receive my ticket and proceed to the platform. I wait for thirty minutes while the train is cleaned in preparation for departure. The cacophony of noise from other platforms, announcements, station staff, and random whistles and bells floods back to me; I had forgotten just how prevalent it was when catching a bullet train.

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I take my ‘reserved’ seat by the window. The perfect seat. No one sitting next to me, and a plug socket for all my charging needs. If I had booked a ‘non-reserved’ seat, it would have meant queueing outside one of the first three carriages. When the doors open, it’s basically a free-for-all—first come, first served for seat selection. With my journey lasting an exact 4 hours and 48 minutes, rushing and fighting over a seat was out of the question. If no seats are available, you’re forced to stand up. Opting for a seat in a reserved carriage is well worth the extra couple of thousand Yen.

Back at my seat I weigh up the prices. A seven-day JR Rail Pass costs ¥29,110; this allows unlimited travel on all JR Rail lines for an activated seven-day period. Considering I still have a second leg of travel tomorrow (which will cost another ¥4000), the JR Rail Pass is a necessity if you are visiting Japan and plan to travel across the country. Travelling from Tokyo to Beppu will almost cost me the same as the seven-day pass.

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The food cart eventually passes and I buy a packet of crisps for breakfast (Anytime, any where; right?) and a beer. I work my way through a third of Murakami’s ‘A Wild Sheep Chase’. Three beers later and I go for a doze. I wake up with an hour to go so listen to OK Computer. OK Commuter. I arrive at Kokura. My journey is an exact 288 minutes. Not a second more. Not a second less.

Kokura is located between Honshu and Kyushu; two of the largest of the four main islands that make up Japan’s geography. Honshu is the largest island, referred to as the Japanese mainland. It is the island that I’ve just left. Kyushu is the most south-westerly island, and where I am heading. Outside Kokura Station I am surprised to see a vending machine that for ¥650 sells unusual bottles containing fish in a brown liquid. I have no idea.

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I am still reeling from the fish vending machine. With no sense of direction I find that my hotel is clearly marked on the Township Guide Map. Hooray! I take an unhurried walk carrying all of my stuff on my back for the first time in a month; I am sure it is heavier than I remember. I hate this kind of travel, moving to a hotel for just a day, then on to somewhere else. Nope. Book two weeks at a time minimum in the same place, that’s how I prefer it. I can take my time and take it all in. One thing a day. I don’t like to rush about.

After checking in to the hotel, I venture out for some food. Exhausted from the hours on a train and a few too many heavy nights of drinking, I grab some quick stand up sushi and head back to the hotel. The hotel was really cheap, ¥3400 cheap; and I understand why. The room is the size of a small cupboard. I can’t get the television to work, but luckily there are instructions in Japanese. I take a photograph of the instructions and my camera translates them to English. “Press and hold Power then press 3, 1, 3.” It works! I spend the night watching game shows and talent shows before falling asleep.

The next day (which is today, unless you’re reading this on a different day) 

I wake up to find time has moved the day to Sunday. To make up for my lack of updates I will continue on with this one. I’ve been merely socialising instead of sightseeing and feel a bit bad having not wrote anything for five days. I check out of the hotel early. Not to miss an opportunity, I head for Kokura Castle. The skies are hot and clear and I feel out of place with an umbrella and a rucksack. After seeing the Castle, I head back to Kokura Station.

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No one I have met has spoken English in Kokura. I get through the ticket booking process by nodding and saying, “Hai!” I think the first question was, ‘single or return?’ The second was probably, ‘reserved or non-reserved?’ I receive my single reserved ticket; it costs me ¥4220 for 1 hour and 8 minutes on a train. This weekend is getting expensive and I still have to hand over ¥18,000 for two weeks at the hostel. On the way back, at least my travel time will be broken up by two-week intervals as I sweep back towards Tokyo. Between now and then I have 7 weeks of semi-planned stops along the way.

Beppu-bound on the Limited Express Sonic Train, I am glad for last night’s rest; having my own space and a bathtub were quite the treat. On the train I continue to read ‘A Wild Sheep Chase’ and find myself laughing out loud at regular intervals. The train journey flies by in no time at all.

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I leave Beppu Station in awe. Beppu is by the sea and surrounded in every direction by tall mountains covered in wildlife. At my hostel I discover that I am a one minute walk from the beach and a two minute walk from Beppu Tower. As I hand over my ¥18,000, the woman at the reception desk finds it unusual that I am staying for two weeks. “What are you going to be doing for two weeks?” Take it all in. That’s how I prefer it. I don’t like to rush about.

It is Sunday and there is a nearby section of interesting intersecting streets filled with shops, bars, and restaurants; mostly closed. I find a vending machine selling not fish, but ice cream. I also find that my Suica card works on the vending machines here, a nice surprise. These little Japanese pre-paid cards can be used at Seven Eleven stores, some vending machines, and ticket barriers. I didn’t think they would work this far from Tokyo. The Pasmo card definitely doesn’t work. If you plan on travelling around Japan, always choose the Suica card over the Pasmo card.

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I find a pasta and pizza restaurant with no English menu. I order a glass of wine and a pizza in Japanese. This is the first time I’ve ever felt I needed to speak the native language. In Tokyo I could get by just fine. Perhaps this is for the better; I got a little too comfortable and this might just give me some motivation to actually study a bit harder. The food costs ¥842 for the lot. At least I’ll save some money on food here.

Back at the hostel for 3 o’clock chicken time! I realise that I’m going to miss the crew in Asakusa; I’ve been missing a lot recently. I remind myself that this is not for here. Moving on I find my room; it is a traditional Japanese-style room with a Tatami flooring. Four beds, so sharing with just three others. Less crowded which is good. The view from the balcony is amazing. I can see Beppu Tower, which lights up at night. I can see a horizon of skyscraper obstructed mountains. I wonder which way the sun comes up; my sense of direction very much missing too.

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I explore my local surroundings. There is an international bar called Hot Bepper, it is thirty seconds away. You might think I exaggerate with my walking distances sometimes, but I can actually see the bar from the hostel. The bar has its very own table tennis table and is hosting a tournament next week. Hot Bepper is also run by the same company that runs the hostels I’ve been staying at. I like the pun name too, considering where I am.

I swing by the nearby Family Mart. An occurrence that will never fail to make me smile occurs. Staff at a convenience store greeting me through the door, bowing, saying thank you, bowing, and saying goodbye as I leave. Back at the hostel, I drink Suntory whisky highballs and write up the two days you’ve just read. I plan now to take a hot spring bath in the hostel’s very own hot spring baths; before heading out to the Hot Bepper bar, which will probably be closed on Sundays.