Maybe it's turning 70, maybe it's Japan, maybe it's just too much time, but for the last days in Kyoto we were just templed-out. We both knew this would probably be our first and last time in Japan, but visiting another shrine, taking off our shoes, walking around on tatami mats just didn't hold much charm. So we stuck to the outside - the gardens, the bird sanctuary behind our hotel, and lastly a bit of retail therapy.
Our hotel, perhaps a bit out of the mainstream, had the advantage of backing up to a large nature sanctuary and preserve which we explored with pleasure on an overcast day. Then down to the main train station to visit the Isetan Department Store, an ultra-modern 14 level extravaganza. I had no intentions of buying anything, but find that department stores in foreign countries can reflect the things peculiar to that country. At Isetan it was the large display of small towel-ettes (size of a handkerchief) sold on the 1st floor, 8th floor and 11th floor. Why? Because in Japanese public bathrooms, while the toilets are 21st century, and the water dispenses at the wave of a hand, towels are just not 'in'. Instead every man, woman and child carries small towel-ettes with which one dries one hands. If one stands outside any such facility, you see people exiting while carefully folding their towel back into their pocket or purse for the next time. And thus, a popular department store category. And then,of course, all things Kitty were available. (I don't get this whole fad, but then, I'm not Japanese.) But it was the Kimono floor that delighted me most. Here one can buy beautiful fabric to create your own kimono, all manner of obi and clasps laid out with reverence. This is Kyoto afterall where geisha's in their beautiful dresses are a sight to behold. Of course I had to look at the kitchenwares, most of which appeared to be from everywhere but Japan. It would appear that the Japanese shopper, like ourselves, like all things made outside their country. Of course there were all manner of rice cookers, 'standing rice' servers (a paddle like object), and a vast variety of tea accouterments. I love department stores.
Our last days we focused on fine meals with two true standouts. A tempura restaurant called Tempura Endo Yasaka was fabulous. We sat at the counter similar to a sushi restaurant, but behind the counter was the chef putting all manner of fish and vegetables dipped in ethereal light batter into a huge vat of fat. We had a set meal of ten items and with each new thing, the chef or assistant would explain that we were to use salts (green tea salt or sea salt) or sauce. Each course was served on a unique small plate and provided with a very careful description by the chef. We were surrounded by Japanese who watched us as much as we were watching them. Thank god we're skilled chopstick users...it could have been a major embarrassment otherwise.
For my birthday dinner we went to a kobe restaurant which was one of the most romantic sites. It is an unassuming entrance as we walked down a narrow lane to the entry, but once inside, we were led to a window table where we could look out on a stream, and behind that a pedestrian walkway with people staring in at us as we stared out at them. It was an early reservation which allowed us to see everything in daylight before it became dark and lovey lights lit the last of the cherry blossoms, the stream and the walkway. In the background music like that of Bill Charlap was playing. The meal was served in a leisurely, and seemingly endless set of plates: Shrimp, onion soup, salmon & pork, sea bass, warm pate with pineapple, THE steak, and for desert cherry blossom cheese cake. Our concierge had given the restaurant a 'heads-up' about my birthday so that with our desert there was a lovely piece of chocolate with gold writing saying 'happy birthday', and a single small candle. A nice touch to end an absolutely fabulous dinner where with every bite we were grinning. So turning 70 wasn't all that hard, and certainly was a bit exotic.
But now it was time to once more pack our bags to ship them ahead to Miyanoshita. We were less confident of the success of this venture since the clerk responsible for this had nominal English....but we believed in the system. (and it worked). Our train was another Shinkansen that made a few more stops than the one we'd taken from Tokyo, but basically went on the same tracks. Within two hours we found ourselves in rain-soaked Odowara where we re-confirmed our tickets for the return, and hopped in a taxi to our hotel.
Daddy described this exact same journey going on a rainy day through narrow twisty roads through a valley which would lead up a mountain to the resort town where we were staying. This area, known as Hakone is a huge national park and is very popular with Japanese tourists who come to hike, walk around the lakes, and take pictures of Mt. Fuji. The hotel greeted us warmly, and after we explained that 'the boys' had stayed here 87+ years ago, seemed to think they just might find the register signed by Walter and Herbert in 1928. I'm excited about that and will see what happens.
We had read on tripadvisor that this hotel was a step back in time....and that it is. Dark woods, big lounge chairs in a traditional sitting area; wooden staircases sweeping up to upper levels; dark corridors leading to a variety of rooms which looked untouched since the 30's. We were delighted with our old-fashioned room, finding our luggage waiting for us! Here we definitely sense that we are walking in the boy's shoes again. They would recognize everything but the televisions and the modern bathrooms. Our room has a hot spring shower and bath so we can conquer neuritis, neuralgia, arthritis, stomach upset and anything else that might ail us over the next four days. (Or so the sign above the bath promises).
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