And so, because I’ll likely only be here for the year, it seemed like a good idea to head to Kyoto for the Labour Thanksgiving Day weekend at the end of November. The funny thing is, however, it doesn’t seem to matter if you are in Japan once in your life or for a lifetime, that’s THE weekend to see Kyoto. Everything, everything, everything was booked up more than a month in advance. Sonia brought in the big guns and had the travel agent for the school where she was working do some serious digging around for a hotel. And, low and behold, he did it! He found us a great little place in Osaka, just a 30 minute train ride away from Kyoto. And a huge breakfast buffet to boot.
The next trick would be finding a way to meet on the train platform at Tokyo station to catch the shinkansen bullet train. Sonia had about ten minutes to navigate a busy and confusing station and I had to find a way to get up to the platform without an actual ticket in hand. Again, we managed and were off on our adventure.
Saturday was Kyoto day. A quick train ride and Sonia and I were transported from one Great Japanese metropolis to another.
I must admit that Kyoto could have a little better organized on our parts. We didn’t know which temples we wanted to see, we didn’t have a map, we were completely left to our own devices. I had high expectations and not really any means of achieving them.
We accomplished less than we might have liked that day but what we did see was grand. The trees in the gardens surrounding the palace grounds were painted bright yellows and reds. We were able to make our way to a couple of temples. The Ryoanji Temple grounds were breathtakingly beautiful and the Zen garden strangely fascinating. We even made time to sit and enjoy a traditional temple yu-dofu lunch. And we managed to catch sunset at the Rokuon-Ji Temple’s Golden Pavilion. Striking. Although, it was just a stream of people. We wrapped up the evening with a stroll along Philosopher’s Walk. (I make it sound so lovely. We were also snarled at by a mean dog with sharp teeth, got semi-lost on the transit system, and ended up, in a moment of desperation, at an Italian buffet for dinner.)
The next day was all about Osaka. Our first destination was the castle. To get there we had to walk through several terrific parks, leaves ablaze. Up, up, up until we reached the magnificent building. The square was full of life and the warm sun made it feel like a summer day. It was a lovely place to relax and enjoy takoyaki. And, when I say enjoy, I mean it this time. Osaka is known for it’s takoyaki (doughy octopus balls) and it is obvious why. Unlike the takoyaki I had had in Ota or at festivals, this stuff was actually good. Really. It wasn’t too oily and actually had a slightly crispy exterior. Oh, and it wasn’t buried under mayonnaise.
The people in Osaka were very kind. Maybe too kind. We asked one man for directions and found a personal escort who wouldn’t take no for an answer. At one point, we decided we wanted to take a detour and check out another park area. It was a real trick to turn back before we reached the destination originally inquired about.
The shopping in Osaka is great too. Lots of fun. Especially in America Mura, the hip shopping/hangout part of the city. This is were fashion comes to die… Or, be reborn, depending on how you look at it. It’s certainly isn’t the least bit American. I don’t think I’d ever seen a man in red and black striped tights, with really short leather shorts, a leather jacket, white boots, pink nail polish, triangular sunglasses, and a purple mohawk in America. Well, not in this decade.
Dotombori Street, although touristy, was alive with fabulous energy. There were restaurants and theaters all along the strip. Smaller, more traditional eateries, and even temples, filled the nearby alleyways. A little further still, were the hostess bars. Some of the action spilled onto the streets. Around a corner and we spotted one woman being repeatedly groped as several men said their goodnights.
Through the doors of one coffee house, and we were in another world. The café was the width of a train car. The walls were paneled with richly stained wood. The smoke hung in the air, illuminated by chandlers and sconces. Mostly older men sitting with mostly younger women who were wearing pearls and sporting big updos. Not much conversation to be found here. A pile of women’s fashion magazines suggested feminine boredom. But the teacakes were divine, the strawberry juice fresh, and the hot chocolate made from real cocoa. It turned out the owner studied English in Seattle 15 years ago and was eager for English conversation. Between serving drinks and cleaning tables he keep returning to chat.
The next morning it was time to say goodbye to Osaka. Sonia and I made our way to the “Floating Garden.” Not a bit of greenery in sight up there, but the view of Osaka was amazing from our perch high about the action.
Okini Osaka - Thank you, Osaka.
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