Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Late Night in Kyoto
I'm in our tiny room. Back from 'A Bar', Lonely Planet's favorite Kyoto hangout. Long story short, it sucked. Lousy food, too many white people and overall underwhelming. I just drank from a beer can that I ashed a cigarette in a second ago. Didn't care for it. Davida's passed out and I've got half a mind to venture out again, but I'm too damned tired.
Today, we saw some temples, ate some very spicy noodles in a private booth kinda place that made me feel like a stripper was gonna show up at any second, and napped for a spell. Total success in my book.
Japan is starting to confuse me somewhat. The worldview here is very structured, very polite. The restaurants all close in the afternoons at the same time and everybody works way too much. I'm from Philly, dammit! I'm used to nasty, insensitive and lazy. I apologize alot for being an ignorant gaijin. I suspect China will be more my speed... if I can decipher the place in any way at all. I've heard they're rude, pushy and unconcerned with my problems. Sounds perfect.
-Ken
Today, we saw some temples, ate some very spicy noodles in a private booth kinda place that made me feel like a stripper was gonna show up at any second, and napped for a spell. Total success in my book.
Japan is starting to confuse me somewhat. The worldview here is very structured, very polite. The restaurants all close in the afternoons at the same time and everybody works way too much. I'm from Philly, dammit! I'm used to nasty, insensitive and lazy. I apologize alot for being an ignorant gaijin. I suspect China will be more my speed... if I can decipher the place in any way at all. I've heard they're rude, pushy and unconcerned with my problems. Sounds perfect.
-Ken
Monday, November 26, 2012
Bob and Lily
We rolled into Bob and Lily's place in Nara last Friday. We found them on airbnb and they boasted a western style house complete with all the trimmings. We were not disappointed. With the softest bed, the swankiest kitchen and biggest shower we'd seen since landing in Japan, we knew we were in for a few days of relaxation. Our room had a veranda with a view of the quiet neighborhood, and the scented nightlight made everything seem like home, wherever that might be. But the most comforting amenities were Bob and Lily themselves. The moment we crossed their threshold, they seemed less like hosts and more like the long lost cousins we remembered from childhood.
Bob is from Colorado, Lily grew up about an hour outside Shanghai. She dances salsa, he makes bagels. I'm not kidding. We're talking handmade dough, boiled on the stovetop and baked. I cried when the hot circles of joy came out of the oven.
They are knowledgeable about the area and extremely helpful. They print maps, give detailed directions, stock the fridge with your favorite breakfast foods and will happily dine with you at any one of their favorite haunts. If you ever happen to find yourself in Nara and need to kick back with members of the family you never knew you had, stay with Bob and Lily.
-Ken
Bob is from Colorado, Lily grew up about an hour outside Shanghai. She dances salsa, he makes bagels. I'm not kidding. We're talking handmade dough, boiled on the stovetop and baked. I cried when the hot circles of joy came out of the oven.
They are knowledgeable about the area and extremely helpful. They print maps, give detailed directions, stock the fridge with your favorite breakfast foods and will happily dine with you at any one of their favorite haunts. If you ever happen to find yourself in Nara and need to kick back with members of the family you never knew you had, stay with Bob and Lily.
-Ken
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Osaka Day 1
We spent Thanksgiving, also Davida's birthday, in Osaka. Cool town. Kind of dingy, rather unrefined, we learned that we were staying in the day laborer/ghetto part of town- if there is such a thing as a ghetto in Japan. Our place was part hostel part frat house. It was filled with Swedes and other uptight European types, many of whom had been living in that spot for months or longer, studying Japanese or working in IT. Every white person in Japan seems to be an IT guy.
On the first night, Wednesday I think, we went out for a drink with Simon from Leeds, the superintendent of the property, Mike the Canadian and some cat from San Diego. After quite a tour of the touristy area full of electronic shops and shoe stores, we wound at The Hub, an English pub style joint which apparently had no beer... or it just wasn't on the happy hour list... or they didn't like us. Who can say? We split as soon as we sat down and kept walking. Still without a drink, mind you we'd been on and off trains all day from Takayama, I called an audible and directed us toward the nearest eating/drinking establishment. As it turns out, it was a yakatori-ya. We were seated in a small room with rice paper screen doors. Very Japanese, very cool. The main problem, however, was that though we had a server, we also had a big touch-screen iPad looking thing from which we were told to order. Of course, everything is in Japanese so none of us could make heads or tails of the menu and the waitress won't let us order directly from her.
Then things went a bit sideways. We got beers, sort of figured out our computer ordering machine, selected some food on a stick and waited... and waited... and waited. Totally being ignored by our girl, Mike the Canadian started looking through his Japanese phrase book and began to make a scene, shouting "sumimasen" whenever the server came anywhere near our table. When she did show up, he didn't know what to say next. San Diego went south with low blood sugar and started cursing and threatening. "This is bull$&!/!. Let's get the f@*{ outta here! I'm gonna walk out on this muth€?£&;%¥ check right now! Thinking our food was forgotten, we asked for the check. As soon as our girl dropped it, the food arrived. Coincidence? We thought not.
The food looked like it might have been tasty when it came off the grill. As it had been forgotten under a heat lamp, however, it was Alpo. We were bummed. We tried to explain to the girl that this was unacceptable, but all attempts to communicate our dismay were met with polite nodding and smiling. At the register, Mike the C tried one more time for a comp. The girl there gave us 20% off the exorbitant bill and we left considering that the one small victory in an otherwise unmitigated culinary defeat.
We split up and Davida and I found a small stand offering takoyaki manned by an old Osakan guy. This stuff is delicious. It's basically a fried ball of dough stuffed with a chunk of octopus. They jam ten of these golfball sized suckers into a small styrofoam takeout container, cover it with mayo, barbecue sauce and spices and hand it over. It cost ¥250; $3. Boom! Take that, overpriced yakitori bi!?€es..!!
-Ken
On the first night, Wednesday I think, we went out for a drink with Simon from Leeds, the superintendent of the property, Mike the Canadian and some cat from San Diego. After quite a tour of the touristy area full of electronic shops and shoe stores, we wound at The Hub, an English pub style joint which apparently had no beer... or it just wasn't on the happy hour list... or they didn't like us. Who can say? We split as soon as we sat down and kept walking. Still without a drink, mind you we'd been on and off trains all day from Takayama, I called an audible and directed us toward the nearest eating/drinking establishment. As it turns out, it was a yakatori-ya. We were seated in a small room with rice paper screen doors. Very Japanese, very cool. The main problem, however, was that though we had a server, we also had a big touch-screen iPad looking thing from which we were told to order. Of course, everything is in Japanese so none of us could make heads or tails of the menu and the waitress won't let us order directly from her.
Then things went a bit sideways. We got beers, sort of figured out our computer ordering machine, selected some food on a stick and waited... and waited... and waited. Totally being ignored by our girl, Mike the Canadian started looking through his Japanese phrase book and began to make a scene, shouting "sumimasen" whenever the server came anywhere near our table. When she did show up, he didn't know what to say next. San Diego went south with low blood sugar and started cursing and threatening. "This is bull$&!/!. Let's get the f@*{ outta here! I'm gonna walk out on this muth€?£&;%¥ check right now! Thinking our food was forgotten, we asked for the check. As soon as our girl dropped it, the food arrived. Coincidence? We thought not.
The food looked like it might have been tasty when it came off the grill. As it had been forgotten under a heat lamp, however, it was Alpo. We were bummed. We tried to explain to the girl that this was unacceptable, but all attempts to communicate our dismay were met with polite nodding and smiling. At the register, Mike the C tried one more time for a comp. The girl there gave us 20% off the exorbitant bill and we left considering that the one small victory in an otherwise unmitigated culinary defeat.
We split up and Davida and I found a small stand offering takoyaki manned by an old Osakan guy. This stuff is delicious. It's basically a fried ball of dough stuffed with a chunk of octopus. They jam ten of these golfball sized suckers into a small styrofoam takeout container, cover it with mayo, barbecue sauce and spices and hand it over. It cost ¥250; $3. Boom! Take that, overpriced yakitori bi!?€es..!!
-Ken
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Osaka and the Best Meal Yet
Our time in the foothills of the Japanese Alps was spent mostly in Takayama, with a fun side trip to the Gifu Prefecture onsen town of Gero, which Ken wrote about a few days ago. Takayama was peaceful, with crisp mountain air and lots of snuggle time, on account of the fact that there's very little to do in a sleepy small town like that. One thing we did enjoy while there was riding Japanese style bikes for the first time. They have built-in locks and large rear-wheel kickstands and nearly every bike we've seen has a basket, another subtle indication of Japanese efficiency, and a stark contrast to all the flashy break-less fixed gear bikes that are everywhere in American cities. Our hosts Amber and Joe, a young couple from Chicago, were super laid back and fun.
We left on Tuesday, and were excited about our first long train ride, a combined length of 4.5 hours on two trains. Again the Japanese rail system impressed- it's simply the most lovely and relaxed way to travel. Food and beer on board, outlets, wifi, super reclining seats, silenced phone policies,.. We have half a mind to leave our last week unbooked (still hammering out the seven days between Okayama in the west and our last weekend in Tokyo starting November 7 when our passes expire) and ride the train whenever we need a nap!
Getting to Osaka was really exciting- it's the city I'd been most looking forward to, and our airbnb stay boasted a rooftop hot tub and sauna. Plus it was my birthday eve! We arrived with minimal trouble, though we took the wrong subway once or twice, and walked the two minutes to the hostel style building where we were greeted by our host, the building manager. Simon showed us around and invited us out for a beer with two other guys who were from San Diego. Our original plan to get settled, do laundry, and have a quiet night was derailed and we joined them. My initial impression, taken from the short walk between the the train and our residence, had been that Osaka, or at least the neighborhood we were in, was full of internationals and younger Japanese people. I was right. We saw more white people in the first five minutes of our walk than I had seen our entire time in Japan thus far. We also saw the first gay Japanese couples walking arm in arm, and tons of mixed race couples, something I probably wouldn't think to comment on had it not been such a rare sight.
After a fairly underwhelming dinner (see Osaka Day 1) we headed back to our spot, only to discover that the hot tub was overflowing with lukewarm water. Foiled by our attempts to enjoy food and amenities, we ventured out again and found a little hole in the wall where no more than five people were sitting at a recessed bar singing karaoke. And imagine our surprise upon discovering that patrons and barmaids alike were all Korean! With more than a modest buzz on, Ken grabbed the mic and belted out "All Night Long" by Lionel Richie, while old drunken men robotically filled in the back up "all night, all night" in quite the monotone. And I'm sure you folks will be as unsurprised as I was to find myself sporting a painful headache on the morning of my birthday.
I tried to shake my nausea all day, bathing in the now piping hot rooftop tub, sweating it out in the sauna, napping in the room, but all to no avail. Perhaps it was this that caused me to have such a strong distaste for the idea of another Japanese dinner, and therein lay the impetus for my brilliant thought. Walking out of a Lawson with a can of hangover cure (most people call it "beer") around 7pm, I saw a beacon of light emanating from a little shop just up the block. Drawing near to it, we saw, like an inscription from the gods, the words "Nepali Indian Restaurant". We went in and our senses were exalted by the smell of curry, the smattering of bright greens, purples and glittering pinks adorning the walls, and our favorite 1960s Bollywood tunes screeching and thumping from a pair of old beat-up speakers. For the tiny price of 1200 yen, 14.60 USD, we ate like kings. Naan the size of a cat, two curries, tandoori, rice and salad, with a mango lassi to wash it all down. It may seem like sacrilege to eat Nepali food in a country so rich and diverse with food options, but it was the best damned Indian food I've ever had, and I'm not sorry!
We left on Tuesday, and were excited about our first long train ride, a combined length of 4.5 hours on two trains. Again the Japanese rail system impressed- it's simply the most lovely and relaxed way to travel. Food and beer on board, outlets, wifi, super reclining seats, silenced phone policies,.. We have half a mind to leave our last week unbooked (still hammering out the seven days between Okayama in the west and our last weekend in Tokyo starting November 7 when our passes expire) and ride the train whenever we need a nap!
Getting to Osaka was really exciting- it's the city I'd been most looking forward to, and our airbnb stay boasted a rooftop hot tub and sauna. Plus it was my birthday eve! We arrived with minimal trouble, though we took the wrong subway once or twice, and walked the two minutes to the hostel style building where we were greeted by our host, the building manager. Simon showed us around and invited us out for a beer with two other guys who were from San Diego. Our original plan to get settled, do laundry, and have a quiet night was derailed and we joined them. My initial impression, taken from the short walk between the the train and our residence, had been that Osaka, or at least the neighborhood we were in, was full of internationals and younger Japanese people. I was right. We saw more white people in the first five minutes of our walk than I had seen our entire time in Japan thus far. We also saw the first gay Japanese couples walking arm in arm, and tons of mixed race couples, something I probably wouldn't think to comment on had it not been such a rare sight.
After a fairly underwhelming dinner (see Osaka Day 1) we headed back to our spot, only to discover that the hot tub was overflowing with lukewarm water. Foiled by our attempts to enjoy food and amenities, we ventured out again and found a little hole in the wall where no more than five people were sitting at a recessed bar singing karaoke. And imagine our surprise upon discovering that patrons and barmaids alike were all Korean! With more than a modest buzz on, Ken grabbed the mic and belted out "All Night Long" by Lionel Richie, while old drunken men robotically filled in the back up "all night, all night" in quite the monotone. And I'm sure you folks will be as unsurprised as I was to find myself sporting a painful headache on the morning of my birthday.
I tried to shake my nausea all day, bathing in the now piping hot rooftop tub, sweating it out in the sauna, napping in the room, but all to no avail. Perhaps it was this that caused me to have such a strong distaste for the idea of another Japanese dinner, and therein lay the impetus for my brilliant thought. Walking out of a Lawson with a can of hangover cure (most people call it "beer") around 7pm, I saw a beacon of light emanating from a little shop just up the block. Drawing near to it, we saw, like an inscription from the gods, the words "Nepali Indian Restaurant". We went in and our senses were exalted by the smell of curry, the smattering of bright greens, purples and glittering pinks adorning the walls, and our favorite 1960s Bollywood tunes screeching and thumping from a pair of old beat-up speakers. For the tiny price of 1200 yen, 14.60 USD, we ate like kings. Naan the size of a cat, two curries, tandoori, rice and salad, with a mango lassi to wash it all down. It may seem like sacrilege to eat Nepali food in a country so rich and diverse with food options, but it was the best damned Indian food I've ever had, and I'm not sorry!
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Ken at the Onsen
Tuesday November 20th. We took a late morning train from Takayama to Gero, a small village in the Japanese Alps known for its many onsen which, in case you're not familiar, are spas with natural mineral hot springs, cold pools and jacuzzi type baths. They can be indoors or out. Unisex or segregated. This is important to note as it is proper to go nekkid during your stay. The protocol is to carry with you a "humility towel", basically a hand towel that you hold in front of your junk as you move from pool to pool. The ritualistic process is as follows: first, you strip down to your birthday suit in the locker room. Then, you proceed to the onsen itself. Ours was outdoors, segregated and nearly empty being early afternoon on a weekday. Once in the hot springs area, you'll find a low row of moveable shower heads, each with a small plastic stool in front. Take a seat, hose yourself down, shampoo and soap up thoroughly, rinse and repeat. You are now ready to bathe.
The order is a matter of personal choice. I went with the medium-hot big pool with bubbly jets first, then a plunge into the icy cold pool, in this case a small cement cistern just big enough for one. It was bracing to say the least. From there, I hit the super hot, super bubbly tub, leaned my head back on a large smooth stone and looked up at an overhanging red and gold leafed Japanese maple in front of a crystal clear blue mountain sky. Bliss.
Back and forth I went, hot to cold, bubbly to still and occasionally hitting the shower stools for a fresh soap and shampooing. After a bit of time in the sauna, a cedar chest into which you close yourself sitting upright with your head poking out, I showered up one more time, crawled rubbery and relaxed out of the joint and called it a day... all for under 7USD.
The order is a matter of personal choice. I went with the medium-hot big pool with bubbly jets first, then a plunge into the icy cold pool, in this case a small cement cistern just big enough for one. It was bracing to say the least. From there, I hit the super hot, super bubbly tub, leaned my head back on a large smooth stone and looked up at an overhanging red and gold leafed Japanese maple in front of a crystal clear blue mountain sky. Bliss.
Back and forth I went, hot to cold, bubbly to still and occasionally hitting the shower stools for a fresh soap and shampooing. After a bit of time in the sauna, a cedar chest into which you close yourself sitting upright with your head poking out, I showered up one more time, crawled rubbery and relaxed out of the joint and called it a day... all for under 7USD.
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