On the train from Uzuki

As I write I am whistling through the Japanese “countryside” on a slightly stuffy commuter train. I emphasize “countryside” because in the 1.400km or so of train rides we have taken so far we have never before been more than 100m from a mass of buildings. For a few precious minutes we are cutting across and through the verdant hills of Eastern Kyushu and lapping it up. There is a real beauty in the way the hills take over the landscape in their bibbly-bobbly lush green way before spilling onto narrow plains splattered with condensed humanity or, as at the moment, dive into the Pacific Ocean.

A small bamboo forest is off to my left and, to my surprise, a gleaming white Buddhist stuppa to my right - surprise because this is the first Theravada style stuppa we've come across in many a temple and shrine in the past week.

Back to the recent past....

Usuki

We've just had a charming day in and around the little town of Usuki. A quiet calm place. A pleasant contrast to the hectic cities we've largely convened since landing.

In the center of the the town lies a couple of historical streets lined with old traditional wooden buildings. Peaceful temples and former Samurai residences complete with curved ornate tiled roofs, tatami matted floors, rice paper windows and intricate Japanese gardens. The people are so friendly here. Everywhere we go people nod and smile. They are only too keen to help. One of the old houses has been set up as a rest area for visitors - there was nothing and nobody there except very inviting tranquility. A rare thing to be offered on a plate in a town.

Many a Buddha

The main reason we were here was to peruse some 1,000 year old stone Buddhas a few kms out of town. At the station a very nice man lent us bikes for free, so we rode along the old wooden shopping streets, through the more modern bit of town and out through the padi lined country to our destination. There is little as pleasant as pedaling through new vistas singing a tune (and kind of fitting in the home land of karaoke).

The statues were impressive. Built out of the sides of volcanic rock dispersed by the near'ish Mt Aso, their detail well preserved. In some cases the original ornate paint work is still faintly evident. Via a walk through a bamboo forest and a comic concern at the local snake signs (with evil red eyes!!) we reached the final set of Buddha's, the largest of which being the most renowned stone Buddha in the country and as thus a “national treasure” - a nice concept I think, especially as it does not seem to differentiate between people and things.

The cycle back was delayed by a lady ushering me with a cycle pump. She had noticed my back tyre was low and wanted to help. How can you not smile at such a welcome.

I better stop now as our train is coming into Beppu and we only have a 5 minute change to the next train. I am little concerned about the connection not working out. In our time in Japan everything has run on time and worked well. From seat warming, squirting toilets to, of course, the trains. Why should this time be any different....

Baseball Jingo

After an afternoon of visiting some impressive shrines including Meiji Jingo, walking eclectic fashion streets complete with doggie pet costume shops and taking a confused passing interest in the Cosplay-zoku (Lolita goths) and surprisingly uncoordinated dancing bill-rocker boys (apparently the Elvis's were out of town) at Jingo Bashi, what better way to round off a weekend in Tokyo then to take in a national past time - baseball.

This was accompanied by some of the most out of tune and odd chanting I have had the misfortune to come across...

A traditional wedding at Meiji Jingo

Arguably Japan's biggest team, the Yomiuri Giants, were taking on the Tokyo Yakult Swallows at the latter's ground. Meeting up with Dom and his mate's we took a seat at first base and watched the night unfold. A few local beer's sold by ladies in cheer leading costumes helped us make sense of the slowly unravelling action. “Our” team, the Swallows, only scored one run despite at one point having base's loaded (far too many jokes... ). The Giants swept them aside with a couple of big hits and general all round dominating play. The real entertainment though came from the crowd – quite unlike anything I've seen before. The home and away fans would take it in turns to do their well rehearsed chants. None of the banter or overpowering competitive chanting that graces most European games. Instead mutual respect. Strange. The best bit had to be the home teams' little umbrella dance. One impromptu jiggle prompted by their sole score was outdone by the full shabang sometime around the 7th innings. Prompted by amazingly asexual cheerleaders (blown away by the beer-girls!), the crowd went about as wild as it gets in its slightly peculiar regimented way.

A top evening and about time to leave Tokyo. Waking early we braved the incredibly pushy and rude rush-hour commuter trains (an intriguing contrast to the almost over-polite way you are treated in all other activities), stamped our magical JR pass (a pass to nearly all JR trains for a fraction of the normal price) and shot off on the “Shinkansen” bullet train to Kyoto.

Bashing London out the system...a bit of Tokyo carnage!

With the possible exception of flying Ryanair, I'm usually excited when I jump on a plane but this was something extra. So much so that, aided by some vintage 1981 Ashes footage, I barely slept all night and landed in Tokyo wired. Perhaps an appropriate state with what was to come.

Knocking out for much of the afternoon, we met up with Scott (cool Aussie dude who is more than nicely putting us up in his pretty plush flat), had a local beer splashed down in front of us and the rest is history. Of a hundred odd and varied experiences that seem to accompany a proper night out in this town, on this occasion the most (or perhaps least) memorable experiences revolved around a distinctuve area called Golden Gai. A collection of hundreds of tiny bars on narrow streets just around the corner from Shinjuku. The Japanese are remarked to have a tendency to be intricate and obsessive over small details and seem to like a drink. These characteristics mix to great aplomb in this area to create the greatest ensemble of quirky bars that I have come across. Each one totally unique and sprouting from one guy's dream which, owing to the tiny size of each bar, can only be shared with 5 or 6 people at a time. Images of a Van Halen themed toilet, some awesome Radiohead tunes and red carpets flicker into memory – or was that another night......? Generally we found ourselves very welcome, though in a couple of places one guy or another did not want to share their dream with us and we were waived away - the other side of the polite welcome you generally receive in this country.

Chris showing here swing at 3.30 am

A complete right off of a Saturday was followed by a continuation of the night before. Atrociously bad skills at a “golf” bar were offset by no less than 3 meals. The prize has to go an exquisite establishment where thin slices of prime beef were sliced off a large slab of beef in front of you, to be cooked at your own pleasure in a mini boiling oil pot built into your counter. All the joy of fondu, but with much nicer food and no wee smell. Being involuntarily sprayed by staff with freebreeze after a Korean BBQ also registered interest as a first time.

At some point in the middle of another 12 hour night (a true 24 hour city!) came a gem of an experience. Somewhere on the backstreets of Shimbashi we wandered up some dirty spiral stairs and took a chance on a small red door. Inside we found a couple of hours of highly enjoyable salary-man company in a tiny sake-karaoke bar (for better or worse, both of these were sizeably sampled). The guys were very friendly indeed, if considerably on the sloshed side. A rendition of “Here Comes the Sun” brought down the curtain on our singing efforts which were interluded by many a Kampei and a sunk glass of saki. It was interesting to see how, despite her obvious lack of interest, the bar maid barely registered one of the guys rather pathetic naughty school boy touchy feely flicking up her skirt attitude. After a bill that was hefty despite the alleviation of the guys paying for our sake, we left with handshakes and a buzz.

What was so nice about these nights out was that, with a cut-short detour to Geronimo's aside, we managed to avoid the Geijin (expat) scene pretty well. I could have seen me being sucked into it a few years ago, but the idea of hanging around in a little self-imposed bubble does not really interest me. Even more so when there is so much on offer in this great flickering monster of a city. But then again, maybe it is what's on offer that keeps the legions of Western guys around Rappongi. How many blokes can say no to a good ego boost?

Anyhow, by the time we awoke a little worse for wear on Sunday the London cobwebs were well and truly blown away (along with our budget). On to more civilized things....

Tokyo headache

Its 4pm on my second day in Tokyo and I've just woken up. Perhaps a bit of jet lag, but I'd be lying if I failed to admit that getting back to the flat at 6.30 am last night after a loonnnnnng night had something to do with it.... and quite a bit of saki!

From yakatori via a nasty geijin bar to the wanders of Golden Gai.
Good times! I just wish my head didn't hurt.