Those Elusive Monkeys

Since arriving in Kyoto, all anyone seems to be going on about is monkeys. Apparently there's an area in the bamboo forest that's become a bit of a hot spot - wild monkeys live there and tourists turn up to feed them so they can have a good view. One American girl in my hostel said she'd enjoyed it so much that it was her main reason for returning to Japan.

Intrigued, a Canadian girl named Krista and I decided to make a day trip out there.

Getting Distracted

Whilst the Buddhist temples in Japan are undoubtedly gorgeous, they're also abundant. You can't walk through Kyoto without tripping over one, and the tourist maps point out around five per square mile. However one in particular does stand out: the Golden Pavilion in the North West of the city. It's a large temple with stunning gardens, wildlife and shrines but the highlight is a building set on a small peninsula that's coated in gold leaf, making it shine in the sunlight.

After climbing with great relief off our overcrowded city busy, we followed the crowds to the gate of this temple and paid the 400\ each to go in. We walked, chatted, took photos and sampled some extraordinary sweet green tea with gold flecks in it, which was I'm afraid being sold at an extraordinary price and was therefore left behind.

The Golden Pavillion (yes it's real gold)

So, while that was lovely an' all, we weren't much closer to finding the monkeys. And it was starting to rain. Krista attempted to unfold the various maps and guide books while I held our umbrellas up but we soon decided to dive into a nearby Cafe for hot teas and orientation..

Back on the hunt

All evidence suggested that there was a station nearby that would allow us to board a street car to the Bamboo Forest. Once the rain had eased off and the sun had returned, we marched confidently South in the expectation of reaching it.

Unfortunately, as so frequently happens, the direction we were marching in didn't seem to lead anywhere useful. Indeed we found ourselves leaving the main trail and walking through smaller and more residential streets with no indication of where a station might be found. Worse, the rain had returned - we were now fighting with our umbrellas and stomping through puddles with frozen hands and dampened spirits.

Whilst we didn't want our journey to be wasted, there was suddenly a great need to be somewhere warm and dry again. So we gave up and headed back to the bus stop where a crowd was already lined up for the next bus home.

A last minute change

The bus arrived and the queue began to move. At the same time, the sun once again made an appearance. Krista stepped out of the queue and peered at the approaching blue sky. "Should we stay?", she asked. "It's your call," I replied. So we ducked out of the bus shelter and, umbrellas back in their sheaths, resumed our journey Westward.

This time we kept to the main roads, ensuring that the North mountains were always on our right. We walked for quite some time before the grey clouds started to gather - this time we stepped into a convenient convenience store before the rain could start. As we took out our maps again, the shop suddenly became very busy so we browsed for a while and bought drinks.

I used the trusty Kindle to search for a Google Maps route to the nearest station, which was apparently less than 10 minutes' walk away. The rain passed quickly this time but we had somehow gotten slightly disorientated... the mountains weren't really visible now that we were in an urban area surrounded by tall buildings, so we initially overruled Google and walked in the direction that 'felt right'. But we were wrong and had to backtrack in the end.

A delightful surprise

Walking down a small road towards the station, we were impressed with the general character of the street which was low on traffic but full of people. As the road opened into a square we found a huge flea market selling second-hand goods and unusual snack foods. Krista set to work trying out anything that looked tasty while I rifled through some used Kimonos. I found one that I loved and which was actually long enough for my statuesque (in Japan!) physique and folded it into my backpack with a big grin on my face.

Flea Market on a Sunday in front of a temple

We browsed stalls selling Godzilla toys, theatrical masks, knives, silk scarves and all manner of nick-nack, and also found ourselves in the front of yet another temple sporting pink cherry blossoms. Once we'd been halfway round the market, we looked at our watches and realised there was less than one hour remaining before the monkey access would be closed for the day, if indeed it was still open given the sporadic rain. So we agreed not to bother - this market was more than good enough reason to travel to the area and we still had more to see.

Easier on the way back

As the stall holders started to pack their things, we walked on to the main road and straight into a bus stop serving buses back to central Kyoto. We boarded it, pressed ourselves up against strangers for the duration of the hour-long journey, and then walked back to our respective hostels satisfied with our lot.

The monkeys will have to be seen another day.

Life in a Japanese Family

This trip to Japan was really quite unplanned. I always wanted to visit so I perused some plane ticket prices and just sort of went. So a lot of it's been happening on the fly. Hey, sometimes that's the best way!

I didn't want to spend all my time in Tokyo so I stuck a pin in a map and caught the budget bus to Ogaki in the Gifu prefecture, close to Nagoya which is the fourth largest city in Japan.

Thanks to Couchsurfing.org, a friendly young man names Hiroki met me at the station and took me to his family home as a guest. Hiroki himself had experience of studying in the UK so we could communicate easily but he told me that his parents were nervous because they didn't speak English and of course my Japanese is still restricted to "hello", "yes" and "beer please".

Arriving at the House

I arrived and said "good evening" to the parents, who welcomed me in and offered me the guest slippers. The Japanese traditionally never wear shoes in the house - the entrance is recessed with a shoe cupboard to one side, so you can store your shoes and pop on some house slippers. You are expected to wear socks with your slippers and to take them off before walking on any mats in the bedroom. There's also a separate pair of 'bathroom slippers', usually made from a washable vinyl or similar, to change into when you use the toilet.
I was served a cup of tea and a range of snacks and we chatted (via Hiroki!). I was offered a Japanese bath, which is like a one-man hot tub that you take to relax after showering, but I was just happy to wash my hair in the shower and climb into bed. The mother brought me a glass of ice water for the night.

It was a bit weird for me, being treated as a priority and being given such special treatment by people I'd never met before. But I understand that it's all part of Japanese culture - they very rarely entertain at home so it's a great honour to be invited in. Rather than saying "make yourself at home", the hosts rush around doing everything for you so that you can relax. So I tried my best to roll with it and show my gratitude.
I was also introduced to three King Charles spaniels wearing tracksuits:

This one kept staring at me

Day One

We were up and about by 8am and the mother made us breakfast, serving me first. I had rice, tofu, vegetable stew and plain yoghurt, and then Hiroki gave me a lift to Nagoya where he was working that day.
I picked up an all-day sightseeing bus ticket to check out the usual destinations - Nagoya Castle, which dates from 1610 but was almost entirely destroyed in the 2nd world war and then rebuilt as a museum; the science museum, which houses the world's largest planetarium and therefore charges a fortune on the door; and the electricity museum which was free and turned out to be fantastic fun!

Now, Hiroki wasn't going back home that night, so I caught a train to his town and he arranged for his parents to collect me. The mother met me at 10pm, her usual sweet and friendly self, and we tried to make snippets of conversation in the car. When we got in, I headed straight for the shower and bed.

Day Two

I was seriously nervous about socialising with the parents so I laid in until 9am when I started to hear noises in the kitchen. I was served breakfast again - scrambled egg, green beans, side salad, bread and plain yoghurt. I later discovered that this is known as 'a Western style breakfast'.
I packed my things and gave them a small gift, using rehearesed Japanese to try and express my appreciation of their astonishing hospitality, and walked to the bus stop. I'd had an amazing insight into family life and met the most wonderfully generous people... but it was time to regain my independence.

Home from Home

I've had the wonderful fortune this weekend (despite a slightly dismal prediction at Asakusa Temple) to meet up with a man called Seigi, a fellow member of couchsurfing.org and for the last two days my personal tour guide.

Nesting

First things first, my shelf. This wee wooden shelf is the only space I have for myself and my things, so some organising had to be done. I disovered hooks screwed into the open edge underneath the next shelf up, so I started by hooking a blanket up for privacy. Then I assigned the hooks - the one nearest my head held my handbag and the one nearest my feet was paired with a carrier bag to form a bin. My suitcase was opened and kept upright at the end of the bed, with its inner pockets used to store toiletries. Job done.

It actually turns out that my new cabin is slightly larger than the shelf.above the engine bay of my VW bus. That realisation was rather comforting.

A night on the town

I met Seigi at Shinjuku station, central Tokyo, and barely left! I was amused at first that he couldn't find me, "I'm the only white girl here!" but soon learned that Shinjuku station is roughly the size of Scotland.

We went for a meal of soba noodles at a small restaurant (inside the station) and then browsed a 100yen (basically £1) shop, where I amused myself looking at all the gadgets and foodstuffs that one only ever sees in these types of outlet.

We walked through major roads packed with people and rode escalators up and down but still seemed to be right next to the station.

Finally of course it was time for karaoke! Now, karaoke I'm familiar with. This is the art of getting plastered and rolling into a bar to scream the lyrics of 'Don't Stop Believing' into a microphone, often in groups, while fellow drinkers groan or cheer depending on their own state of inebriation.



Checking in for Karaoke

 Japanese karaoke was not like this. The two of us were invited to occupy a small private booth with seats, a table and a pair of remote controls. We could each take it in turns to search for songs on the remote control while the other made best efforts to perform on their hygenically wrapped microphone.

It was a lot more fun than it sounds! Seigi professed not to know any English language music but he was soon off on Stevie Wonder and Maroon 5. We ordered Asahi beers and Seiji played the waiter at 'Scissors, Paper, Stone' to win a discount on the bill.

Finally our allotted time was spent and it was time to get the train home, something I had finally got the hang of.