From tourist to Ronin

I packed up and left the youth hostel again this morning, I`m getting quicker and less frustrated when it comes to packing (thankfully). While packing, I suddenly realized - I`m not a tourist at all...I`m a Ronin!

Ok so a Ronin is technically a Japanese Samurai with no master, and I am clearly not a samurai. But I have many other features that qualify Ronin status:
- I wander around from place to place, with no specific destination in mind
- My only possessions are those I carry
- I love sushi
- I smell strange, and need to shave
- I have a habit of spending time in the mountains, looking wistfully into the distance.

As a Ronin, I spent last night wandering the streets. The manager (turns out the title is somewhat honorific, everyone is a manager so long as they can manage the broom closet) took me to a highly recommended yakuniku place, which I will in turn highly recommend to others. Our company was a mob of drunken Japanese businessmen, and the food was distinctively Korean rather than Japanese. Aside from the Yakuniku (beef that you cook over flames on your own table), I once again found that almost every dish on the table was completely new to me. I thought I had explored most of Japanese cuisine, but I`m only just starting to realize how deep the rabbit hole goes. And the conversation was as memorable as the food - the topics here included Japanese business heirarchy, Basho vs Shakespeare (Basho is a Japanese poet of similiar standing to shakespeare), the deeper philosophy of manga and the underlying patterns behind the world economy. At only 28 years old, he has quite a history behind him; having studied Economics/Accounting at university, he then joined a generic Japanese company, but quit after a few years when he realized it wasn`t for him. He now works in several Youth Hostels, getting plenty of practice with his English (which is fantastic, as he spent a year in Canada). I felt very cultured when our conversation would flip from Japanese, to English, then back again...my smug grin was no doubt visible from the moon.
Unfortunately, a planet sized ego is a common side effect of speaking the local language. I`m keeping it in check though, by doing stupid things regularly. Just now, I had the staff come in to fix the computer...it turned out I needed to press the button labelled `POWER`.

After the Yakiniku we went out to a local Izakaya. It was very local. We drank warm sake (sometimes even hot sake when we were being adventurous) and ate Edomame (salted snow peas - the Japanese version of peanuts, probably much healthier). As the atmosphere became warmier, and the sake bottle emptier, our conversation turned from matters of practicality (like how I can get a job and replace some of the money I`m spending) to far more presing matters, such as `what is the sound of one hand clapping?`. By the time we had finished musing over whether a tree falling in the woods makes a sound with no one around to hear it, it was time to head home...

By home of course, I mean the hostel dorimitory. Me and 7 other people, but at 1 30am most of the beds were still empty. Compared with the place I stayed at last time, where mothers and children congretated with adults of varying ages, this place felt more like a college. For example, photos on the wall, and pictures of cats telling me not to forget to switch of the air conditioner and so forth.

The plan for today (not to mention tonight) is hazy. Every hostel in town appears to be fully booked, and for a while it seemed I would be testing my samurai skills by building a shelter in the mountains. At the moment however, it seems I may be able to stay the night at the owner`s house, a huge, traditional style Japanese house with room for guests when the hostel is full. I`m very tempted to stay in this manga cafe though, its only $15 for a 7 hour stopover (more sleep than anyone needs, plus I can blog when I wake up in the night and get bored!).

Whatever happens, I`m sure it will be something amazing, judging by my record so far. I am finally comprehending the city of Kyoto, a city as old as Japan itself. It`s a funny thing that on my way between the 7-11 and the manga cafe, I walk on streets that pre-date the samurai, streets where huge battles have been fought (at one time an army of 100 000 troops and another of 90 000 troops fought in the city of Kyoto), streets that contain so much history you practically trip over it when you walk around. Now if only I had a sword and a robe...