To the Bat Cave, Robin!

After a couple of weeks of city life, my body was aching for fresh country air and space to stretch out and soak up the sun. My destination was obvious: Mount Fuji.

I challenge you to find anyone in the world who isn't familiar with this giant dormant volcano... its peak is the highest in Japan but what really brings the flocks is its perfect symmetrical cone shape and its isolation from other mountains. It looks the way a mountain should look, the way that you would draw a picture of one in preschool.

Unfortunately at this time of the year it can't be climbed - the snow is too thick and the temperature too low for it to be safe even for seasoned climbers - so I instead booked into a youth hostel on Kawaguchi Lake, one of the five main lakes around the foot of the iconic structure.

Climbing something

Not to entirely shirk mountain climbing, I headed on arrival to Mount Tenjo, a tree-covered peak directly in front of the lake and only a short walk from my hostel. The tourist board only had it listed as 'a cable car' so that's what I went for... it was when I approached the counter to pay for my ticket that I realised there was a 'one way' option. And that must mean it's possible to climb.

I bought the one-way ticket. I'd love to tell you that I bought it for the return journey but I'm afraid I'm just a big fat cheat. I rode the car almost all the way to the top and then made a casual walk back down again, admiring the views of the lake and mountain with every step. It turned out actually to be a very well-marked route, well maintained and easy to negotiate... but there's no time for regrets.

Mt Fuji as seen (or not) from the crest of Mt Tenjo

A Sore Bum

The next day I hired a clunky old mountain bike with a mission in mind: I would score a perfect photograph of Mount Fuji and I would reach The Bat Cave. After all, who wouldn't want to take the opportunity to meet the infamous Mr Wayne and witness his technological marvels?

I selected an 18-mile route that would allow me to circle the lake entirely and to visit the next lake along (Saiko). Whilst 18 miles doesn't seem far, it had me worried halfway round the first leg when I found myself climbing a steep road on an unsuitable vehicle and almost, almost considered turning back.

"Holy Buttock Sores, Batman! We're almost there!"

Finally, the Bat Cave appeared round a corner. I locked up my bike, bustled into the kiosk and bought my ticket from an automated machine. A staff member handed me a hard hat with a brief demonstration on how to wear it and sent me on my way.

So... I've been to caves before. I've had tour guides or I've had information stations where you press a button to hear / read about the cave's formation. One thing has always been consistent in these cave visits: a comfortable, safe and secure walkway from which to view stuff.

This was different. I could see from the outset that it was different and it just got differenter and differenter, as Alice might say. There were a number of different routes marked out through the cave. The first was 'Basic Course'. Hah! I scoff at 'basic course'. 'Basic course' suggests that there are much more interesting routes available - those are the ones I want.

If only I'd known what the alternative was...

It didn't take long to get scary. I started to get concerned when I hit my hard hat on a sign saying 'mind your head' and then frowned when I looked at another 'mind your head' sign at roughly chest-height. Hanging from the ceiling. Bending double to scrape under it, things only became more claustrophobic... there was no turning back, it was time to get down on your hands and knees in the wet, dirty lava floor and start crawling, sometimes with a clearance of no more than three feet and only the scarcest lighting.

Photos were a bit of a problem, I'm afraid, so please just try to invoke images of Bilbo Baggins crawling through dark and uncharted tunnels on his quest to return his precious ring.

Anyway, I made it out in the end and suddenly realised I'd seen no bats. Zero bats. Not of the Bruce Wayne variety and not of the flying rodent variety. Most disappointing.

Update on the VW

I know some of you are itching to know what's going on here... well my saviour arrived yesterday in the form of a fellow traveller from France, who's very hands-on with his own VW T25 and professes to have rather good technical knowledge of the T2s to boot. I purchased some Skype credit, we Googled the garage and he spoke to them at quite some length, getting all the details that seem to be missed when I call the RAC.

So it turns out that the electrical fault that caused my breakdown in fact had a massive impact on the wiring of the whole bus. We suspected that the wiring was old anyway, so the garage have I'm sure done the right thing by completely rewiring it. Their tests now show that everything's in perfect working order except the fuel gauge, which was fried in the incident so, with the help of my forum friends from The Late Bay, I have found a replacement and will be sending it straight over to them. They're confident that they can fit it almost immediately once it arrives, and I'll be back on the road in time for Groezrock.

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.

The one gadget every traveller should have

OK, there are a fair few things that are important when you're travelling alone. A map, for example, could be handy... something to cook with... but please bear with me when I tell you that my favourite gadget by far is my Amazon Kindle Keyboard 3G.

It's only once you get out here, away from your home country and into the middle of nowhere, that you realise just how isolated you can be. Mobile telephones are fine for emergencies but you can't afford to pay for phonecalls every day and the data roaming charges are outrageous. No, the phone is confined to incoming calls only - no email, no Facebook, no blogging.

And the laptop is of course fantastic! As long as you have electricity and WiFi. No WiFi hotspot? Then it's just a fancy notepad. No electricity? A mug rest. The same with any LCD screen tablet.

But the Kindle 3G is there, it works and I love it.

Books are obviously a great thing to have - I love to read (in fact I need to be careful not to do too much of it), and it's stating the obvious to say that an eReader is a good way of transporting all the books you'll ever need in one small device. So consider that point made.

It's the 3G, however, that really brings this baby into its own. No contracts, no data roaming charges, no cost whatsoever to access the internet. From anywhere. Anywhere. I picked mine up on a business trip to the US for $89 (that's about £57) and that's all that it has ever cost me. Whether I'm in the UK, Europe or friggin' Japan, I can log onto my Gmail, I can log onto Facebook and I can publish blog posts for the enjoyment of you find people.

Don't get me wrong, it's not easy! It's clunky, slow, cumbersome... the typing can be tricky, the pages unreliable to load and the general browsing experience pretty poor. But it works! When you're all alone with no access to the information highway, it's always there. And having an eInk screen, it lasts too. You can use it constantly for hours on end and of course you'll eventually run the battery down, but it'll last ten times longer than any smart phone or internet tablet. And, unlike the laptop, it'll charge from a 12v socket in no time.

I was chatting to a Japanese guy tdoday. He has THREE mobile phone contracts just to cover all the regions of Japan. And it's hardly due to ignorance either - he's a mobile phone salesman! Of course he told me all this while I sat casually typing into Blogger with no contract at all.

So that's it, posted and done! Whether you're a big book reader or not, get one of these. Charge it once a month, switch the wireless off (to save battery) and keep it in your pocket for emergencies. Whatever other gadgets you have, however sure you are, don't go without this one backup.

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.

Journey to the Orient

I promised to catch you up on Japan so here you are.

The Journey

It began with a short and uneventful Ryanair flight to London, bargain-tastic at £30 all-in. I arrived on time expecting to see my sister in the pickup zone but we had hit a snag. You see, I was at Stansted Airport while she was at Luton.

It turns out that my dear sweet sibling had spent all day preparing for this. She had bought me a favourite box of chocolates (not that any box of chocolates is ever rejected), made up a chauffeur-style sign with my name on it and left over an hour early to ensure a perfect pickup. She just forgot to check where she was to pick me up from. In her own words, what a dick.

So we had a cosy night at her place with good old British fish and chips and drove up to Heathrow the next morning.

On boarding the aircraft, I discovered that for the first time ever I'd been upgraded! I had a large seat with extra legroom, a top notch entertainment system and a menu for complimentary food. Unfortunately though, unlike the seat I'd reserved, it was in the aisle so I was completely unable to get to sleep. I came close once but only by sort of flopping sideways so the cabin crew couldn't get past with their trolleys.

I arrived at Tokyo Narita Airport at 9:30 having been up for 18 hours and having to wait another 4 hours before I could check into the hotel. Three guesses what I did after that.

Taking the Tube

So the next morning I was to venture into Tokyo and find my backpackers' hostel. I had to take three connecting trains and I was terrified.

I started by going to the train station. I stared blankly for ten minutes at a ticket machine that was asking me how much I wanted to pay. This was a new concept to me. How much did I want to pay? I scrutinised my print-out (in Japanese) and realised that each leg of the journey had a price associated with it, so I selected the corresponding amount on the screen and paid for a small cardboard slip.

You'd think that would be the hard part over, right? Hmm.

I looked to my right and saw some machines that people were occasionally passing through using touch technology that I assumed to be similar to Oyster cards. I looked to my left and saw escalators leading down. I analysed the signs for both directions but could find no mention of the train line I wanted or the destination I was heading for.

Eventually I approached a woman in a facemask selling 'commuter tickets'. I showed her my printed itinerary asking "please, where to go?". She responded "here, you are in the right place". Hmm. "Yes, here, but where?". I pointed dramatically to the right: "here?" And then to the left "or here?". She asked if I wanted the airport, I replied "no" and she smiled saying "go to platform 8" with a pointed glance to my right.

So after 20 minutes I'd managed to buy a ticket and find a platform number. What other challenges could there possibly be?

Now, these machines on the right looked similar to the ticket barriers we're so accustomed to in the UK. Except that there was no actual barrier. I was cautious - did this mean you could just walk through? I watched the locals at work. But they all seemed to have these Oyster cards - what did you do with tickets? I was about to take the risk when finally I saw someone insert that tiny cardboard slip into a slot at the front and then retrieve it from the back so I followed suit.

I found Platform 8 and found that it was for trains to the airport. Thankfully, however, now that I was through the barrier I could see more instructive signs and easily found the correct platform. Five minutes later I was seated on a warm and comfortable train (with no phones allowed - this seems to be rather frowned upon on trains).

Eating and Grooming

Once arrived at my destination, having suffered remarkably few panics, I looked for somewhere to stop and have lunch. A place next to the Hostel looked promising - it was called 'Garden' and had the words 'Cafe' and 'Menu' outside, so I ventured in.

The room was small, with three individual tables and no customers. A staff member greeted me at the door questioningly so I said a polite hello and mimed eating. She excused herself for a moment so I looked around and was a little surprised to find this on one of the tables:

I was surprised again when I looked around and saw a window behind which an alsatian was being shaved.
I eventually worked out that I'd walked into a dog grooming salon. But they made me a decent vegetable stir-fry with rice anyway.

Living on a Shelf

Now the hostel may not be to everyone's taste but I think it's genius. It's the cheapest in Tokyo at only £11 a night with free WiFi, and they have achieved this by squeezing beds into inconceivably tiny spaces. There are ten wooden shelves built into my bedroom, each one fitted with a mattress and a backpacker. It's just like being back in the van :-)

The view from my shelf in the dormitory

There is one bath, by appointment only. The universal language here is English and it operates on a trust system so there are no keys or locks, just like-minded people. And of course it's shoes off at the door!
I think I'm going to like it.

Lost in Translation

I'm in Tokyo and it's glorious. I'll tell you all about it when I'm in a better mood.

Unfortunately I've gotten myself all wound up with frustration at this garage in France. The latest news is 'there's a problem with the fuel gauge -they cam disconnect it but it needs replacing. Perhaps I could get a garage in the UK to do something.'

Given that I paid a garage in the UK to do exactly that the day before I left, this is all getting a bit much. So I've written a long email asking for all the information that is clearly failing to make it through the translation from french.

grrrrr!

By the way there' no WiFi here at the moment so I've published this free on my Kindle 3G. From Japan. Good, eh?