Friday, May 10, 2019

Leaving Kyoto

10am. We are drinking coffee in Kyoto Station. Our last coffee in Kyoto, it's a shame it is underground at the railway station like some sort of travelling moles, but there you go. There are a European couple who are drinking coffee next to us, I wonder where they are headed. Grandma comes in and orders coffee and a huge piece of cream sponge, she looks very pleased with herself when the cake arrives.

10.30am. We’re in Kyoto Station buying some snacks for the train, in a shop with silver metal racks up to the ceiling. Of course, Sam picked his rice triangles and some sad veggies trapped under plastic. I wanted some chocolate chip cookies and Sam picked up everything else and asked me if I wanted that, anything but the chocolate chip cookies.

“All I wanted was some chocolate chip cookies,” I said.

Of course, as soon as we took two steps away from the shop there was a scrumptious bakery next door. Of course, full of lovely things. My eyes boggled. (not really, but it sounds good)

11.35am. We’re on the Bullet heading to Narita. We accelerate out of Kyoto with force. A distinct push in the back, it is the first time I have felt that on a bullet tram. This driver is not pissing around, foot hard on the accelerator and we are off. We are flying through the countryside.

1pm. I listen to Guy Sebastian sing Climb Every Mountain and When Doves Cry, then I had to bring out the voice supreme, John Farnham singing When The War Is Over live.

I cry very easily, and great singing makes me cry. I try to wipe the tears away unnoticed.

We have to change at… I'm sure it began with S, essentially a suburb of Tokyo. We have to get on a local train. The voiceover says something about the Green Cars and well into the journey we wonder if we were supposed to be in the Green Cars? They were much more like the country trains, than the local number into which we were squeezed. We probably should have been, was our conclusion.

3.45pm. We arrive in Narita. Bette Davis, 1949, Beyond the Forrest, you know the line…

3.50pm. We’re at the Narita Sando Guesthouse. The weather is quite nice, we are sitting out the front waiting for them to open for the 4pm checkin. They open right on time. Our room is small, upstairs, just enough room for two beds on the floor. It is all a bit guesthouse by Ikea, but it is nice enough for one night.

There is a handsome Asian boy with a hot arse checking in the same time as us.

We walk the streets of Narita. Out in each direction. Most amount to nothing, the streets just peter out into nothingness, more ugliness. A few fast food restaurants, a really badly designed shopping centre with no shops fronting onto the street and a couple of streets that are just suburban, run of the mill. Then we discover the one street that is full of life, heading down the hill curving and interesting. The street is lined with concrete statues of the Chinese zodiac. The most interesting souvenir shop is Balinese influenced. We watch the guys in the front of a restaurant cutting the heads of live eels. We decide not to eat eel for dinner. We piss in what looks like a communist era block toilet building (I think I took a photo), white walls with blue trim. 


Then we discover the large temple in Narita at the bottom of this street. We wander around it for quite some time. It is gorgeous and quite deserted. One can actually get some sort of feeling of peace and meditative harmony that perhaps these temples are supposed to represent. I never really understand why tourist want to pour through temples crowded with other tourists. What is the point? Just to tick it off their tourist bucket list? There are gorgeous gardens and even what you'd call a forest. I'm not sure if it was deserted just because it was late in the day, or if it was always like that. We both said to each other that this was a much nicer experience than the most well know temples that are full of tourists.

The sun is setting, the sky is turning that dusky romantic hue. We leave the solitude of the large temple and head back to our guesthouse.

Sam googles ramen shops and we are soon heading out to eat. We walk up the narrow winding roadway just across the way from our guesthouse, which winds its way up to the main square. Google maps takes us forward, up one of the nothing side streets from earlier in the afternoon when we were looking around, which has now been transformed by the lights of the now open restaurants. I follow Sam until he stops. "It is here," he says. "Somewhere here." We look around. One restaurant, the next restaurants, then the third. "This is it." It is busy inside. A cute boy waiter greets us and points us towards a seat. We order a bowl of ramen each and some gyoza.

There is a group of Chinese who are spread across two tables who are quite loud.

Two European girls come and sit next to us and order their food. The Chinese group goes and the European girls change tables The one I can see asks for fresh chopsticks, she doesn't seem to want to use the chop sticks from the container of chops sticks provided. I initially think it is a hygiene issue, and conclude she is an idiot. But it is soon apparent that she can't use chop sticks. She asks for another set of fresh chop sticks saying that she was looking for a set that grips better, but it is clear she is just trying to make up for her own incompetence.

We leave soon after we have finished our soup.

Once back at the guest house, we decide to go out for one last look around before we are done with Japan. We walk up the narrow winding roadway just across the way from our guesthouse, which winds its way up to the main square. We head through the train station and out the back, where the roads head off in more directions. There is a huge overhead pedestrian bridge which we walk across. Sam says something about a BookOff, but there is none to be found. It is getting late by this stage, so we start heading home. We find a bakery just by the train station and decide to come and buy breakfast here, noting it opened at 7am.

Back at the guest house, we get ready for bed. We can hear everything the just arrived New Zealander is saying, the walls appear to be paper thin. He sounds like an old queen, but I never see him so I really couldn't be sure. There is a sliding door between both our rooms, which clearly gives them the ability to open the two rooms up into one big room should they need a big room. However, this allows for full participation in our neighbour’s conversations, one conversation he has with a male person in the room with him, several conversations he has on the phone, which he has on loud speaker so we still get two sides of the conversation. He is tired and says to the other male he is going to sleep early, which he does and pretty soon we don’t hear anything further from him.

The bathrooms and toilets are shared. I see the cute boy with the hot arse when I am brushing my teeth. I see a couple of girls too, as they complete their ablutions and then head back to their rooms.

The beds are flat on the floor and hard. There is only just enough room for our beds and our suitcases.


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