Nick's Worldwide Wanderings!

I ended up staying in a youth hostel type place on the east side of town, near the mountains. Looking on a map I couldn't help but notice that it was close to the main clubbing area of the city, and since I now had a private room (It's sad that I get excited about that), I figured I would give it a try just to see what happens. By the end of the first hour, the flaws in this plan started to reveal themselves. Here's just a few of my big mistakes:

Assuming rain will only add to the ambience
Rain is wet! WET WET WET! And when you walk in the rain, YOU GET WET. What seems close on a map turns out to be a 30 minute walk. The walk was not scenic, but it was wet. My feet are wet, my pants are wet, my hair is wet, and the novelty of rain begins to wear off along with the skin on my feet as I grow blisters. The rain didnt do much for the hundreds of year old streets by the river, as it was now packed with little plastic umbrellas

Judging something by its face
By now very, very wet, I went looking for a place to eat. I found a place called "Ganko", with about 1000 students milling out the front. I figured they were all waiting to get in, so it must be either very cheap or very good. Furthermore, Ganko's logo was a man wearing a bandana pulling an angry face, so I figured it would be the usual bargain basement chain store. Going inside, Ganko is a very classy restaurant far removed from its logo, with kimono-clad waitresses pointing me to the umbrella storage room, the shoe storage room, and finally seating me at a bar with a much better ambience than the plastic street. The meal is lovely, the bill is far less lovely.

"Oh, why not"This is the stupidest question in the world. Is something worth doing simply because there is no good reason NOT to do it? Why not touch your foot right now? There's no good reason not to. If everyone thought "why not?", we'd have people spending their whole time touching lampposts and making bird noises.

I deserve it!
No you don't. No you don't. No you don't.

After this mistakey part of the night, my luck got better. I saw a group of people hanging out like trolls under a bridge, listening to free live music, which seemed quite cool. I met some American college students from New Jersey (I've now met people from Carolina, New Jersey and Pensylvania...why is no one from the states that I know something about?!), and we spent the next 45 minutes vainly attempting to gain entry into incredibly small bars. One of the guys swears we're being discriminated against, and calls the door guards Jews for some reason. So we give the tiny bars a miss, and I am introduced to the pleasures of a $3 bottle of whisky instead (there are very few pleasures, trust me). We then go down to a massive club at about 10pm, and we have the whole dance floor to ourselves...fantastic...

Eventually people do come, thankfully. Lots of them.
Soon the drunkest of the American guys jumps out and starts dancing energetically in a way that can only make me laugh. I shake my head. The next song is one I know, however...I end up giving the other guy a run for his money both in energy and unco-ordination. The DJ is GREAT (I end up jumping onto the stage to tell him this, just so he knows for future reference). I've never heard a really good DJ, it really did make all the difference.

Generally, it takes a while for people to realize just how cool I really am, but here, they recognize it instantly. Guys shake your hand, hit you on the back and all those other Macho things. Girls giggle when you look at them. But the best part of it all is...THEY ASSUME I CAN DANCE! HAHAHAHAHAHA. Back home, when I start doing some strange 360 degree robotic pimp dancing, people assumed I had a motor neuron disorder. In Japan, they assume its some exotic dance style they haven't got over here yet. I even try to turn slipping over on the wet floor into a breakdancing move, but I don't think that fooled anyone. Even more hilarious though, was when people started doing the same moves, and you got a glimpse of how you looked. I succesfully introduced them to the Dance Clock, Emma Kerr's Hand Dance and many, many others. They loved it, I loved it, everyone had a good night.

And then it was time to go home...

Unfortunately, we had walked further AWAY from my place as we wandered the streets, so a 30 minute walk was now a 45 minute walk. It was still raining, and still wet. As I got closer and closer, an unexpected guest arrived. It was daylight. It was only 4am, and dawn was very much unexpected at this hour, so I spent a long time in denial. But the sun had the final say in this matter, and it was certainly rising. I make my way home in almost full cloudy daylight, then crash on the bed.

I wake up 4 hours later (9am), and go to extend my stay at the hotel (with every intention of coming back immediately to sleep). Then I decide I might as well get a drink of something from a vending machine. Then I decide I want breakfast. Then I see a samurai exhibit at a museum. Then I end up in a ridiculously over-priced internet cafe.
So its finally come down to this... I am favouring my blog over sleep. Are you happy now?

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...

Everything is looking up for my tourist lifestyle!

It all began last night, when I came back to the hostel after a night out on the town at an Izakaya, basically a Japanese pub. Since I could speak Japanese, the hostel manaer took me with him when he went to his favourite drinking place. I was expecting a seedy underground joint with mould growing on the walls and a surly guy staring at you from the corner, I think its just somethin about words with Z in them. But when I got there I found a clean, white, classy place, where I was served strange, very exotic Japanese foods I'd never even heard of back home, but which tasted quite nice. One was raw octopus with wasabi, and the other was a kind of fish egg paste with cheese mixed into it (both salty and cheesy, really yum). We spent the night talking about all sorts of things, and I got a lot of recommendations of great Japanese books, movies and so on. The beers are huge here, and very frothy...

I woke up from the floor of the Japanese room at 7am, having gone to bed just past midnight. I then had the unenviable task of waking the two swedish girls (THEY WERE SWEDISH! Hahahahaha). I had no idea what I was going to do that day, but once again disorganization was the best plan. As I was up early (not by choice, they needed the room back), I talked with everyone over breakfast about where they were goin and what the best places were. I caught someone saying a japanese place name, combined with the comment "very beautiful", and said "I'll go there!". Neil, who just finished law school in Canada, and is being called to the bar in a few weeks, accompanied me there. He turned out to be the adventurous type, and we not only walked the 4km track through the mountains, but took every strenuous detour possible, with the justification that "We might as well, since we're here!". Ah...finally someone who understands my way of thinking. Not content with just spending 4 hours walking through the 10,000 vermillion gates in the mountains, we then went to a nearby zen temple, which required another hour or so of walking.

Tiredness fixed by starbucks (very culturally important), sore legs fixed by onsen (jumping in and out of boiling hot, and freezing cold baths, watched by Yakuza people), and need for adventure fixed by lots and LOTS of adventure. I'm all adventured out. Which is a real shame, beacuse my chance to relax is almost certainly not now. I have another night on the town with the manager ahead, this time a FRIDAY night!

Wish me luck...

It is very important, while you are in Japan, to master the art of head nodding.
When you have no idea what is going on, you nod your head. Nod vigorously when the person is excited, and thoughtfully when the tone sounds more philosophical, and the person will assume you have followed what they are saying. Furthermore, add conversational comments on the few words you do pick up "oh, the higayashi temple?"..."Yes, I've heard it has walls".

I have gained a mastery of this tonight whilst staying at the Tour Club Youth Hostel in Kyoto. I went down to the local Yakitori place (they serve whatever you want on a stick, I had chicken and shitake mushrooms)...one of the best tourist sights in the country I believe, but never written in any guidebook. A tiny little Japanese joint, where I sat on a stool and talked with the friendly staff (its run by a family of people who sit around yelling at each other in between cooking), and ask them about Kyoto, the shop, and life in general. The air is warm from the fire they cook my food on, and the conversation is just as warm...the mother sits and cuts chicken in the corner while we talk about global warming and its international ramifications. It is interesting to compare observations from the other side of the world; I tell him about the drought in Australia, while he tells me about the onset of the rainy season, which despite being predictable for thousands of years, is now anybody's guess. Conspiratorily, we add in hush voices "somethings just not right..."

I am sleeping tonight on the floor of the common room, a tatami mat which looks quite comfortable. They were full when I first arrived, but someone at another youth hostel made a phone call, and it turned out they weren't that full. I have to wait until 11pm for everyone to go to bed though, until my futon is unrolled. I am sharing this floor with two swedish girls (I assume they're swedish, as they are blonde and don't seem to speak english that well). This place is heaven on earth, the owner even brought us out some warm sake while me and a couple from Wales chatted over a copy of lonely planet.

Yes, I finally bought one...Walking down the street today, I thought to myself of the huge numbers of tourists in the area at the moment. Then, a quick look at my own giant backpack and copy of Lonely Planet later, it suddenly hit me...I'm a tourist! I jumped down the streets with glee. I'm a tourist! I'm a tourist! I'm touring, or whatever it is that tourists do!

Speaking of whatever tourists do, my back hurts from my backpack (how stereotypical :D), so I'm going to the public baths for a hot soak. Its just down the alleyway, a quick walk through the streets of pre-western era Japanese wooden houses, and across the road from one of the centuries old temples.

Ah Japan, you've done it again...

Eat when with hosts, then fast
I have just left my incredibly generous hosts, and am now in a Nagoya internet cafe in the central city. I was meant to catch a train, but I am so full I am worried that my stomach may explode, which may result in terrorism-related charges. For the last few days, it has been a race to digest one delicious meal as quickly as possible in order to make room for the next. Tonkatsu for lunch, Tempura for dinner,　then a breakfast of salmon, miso soup, rice, sausage, vegetables. Each meal was around the size of a boogie board, with many smaler dishes surrounding it, and try as I might I could not eat as quickly as everyone else. Today I finally arried at the holy grail of Japanese food...the Sushi! Only a few hours after a massive breakfast, I was plied with various kinds of very expensive, very fresh and VERY delicious sushi. I can barely move...Not only that, but upon my leaving I was given practically the entire contents of their fridge, including cakes, biscuits, fruits (they have an orange, super sweet, without seeds at all...WHY DONT WE HAVE THAT?!). I don`t plan to buy another meal for days!

Never watch horror movies relating in any way to the country you are going to
3am last night, and I get up to go to the toilet. With characteristic thoughtfulness, my hosts have laid out a pattern of nightlights leading me to the toilet. As I walk through the dim light, past the beautiful paper walls and Japanese artwork, a memory suddenly surfaces. A memory of hair growing from walls, and dead bodies coming out of cavities making croaky noises. DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN!!! Why NOW of all times, did I have to think of the grudge? Luckily I`d already been to the toilet, so I couldn`t wet myself. The previously lovely tatemi mats, shrines, and paper sheets all of a sudden looked excessively grudgey. For the next hour or so I lay there wishing I had bought more amulets and lucky charms from the shrine...

Forget about the traditional method of asking for directions
Traditionally, you ask someone on the corner directions, and they then give you a set of instructions on how t get there. NEVER FOLLOW THIS! After the 7th left turn and 8th right turn, you will be completely lost and most likely in some sort of dangerous ghetto. Rather, I have invented a new form of following directions. I listen to the first 5 seconds, and wach where their hands are pointing. Thereafter, I immediately tune out, and just keep that direction in mind. When they finish the speech `and then you`ll come to a tree that has seven branches, and you turn 270 degrees, and there it is!`, I nod and smile, and follow the first direction they gave me. After walking for a while, I am sure that I wil be closer to it than I originally was, so now I ask a new set of directions from a different person, and once again just follow the first direction they point. Soon, I will be asking for directions just outside the building, and they will give me a funny look. That`s when I know I have arrived!

Alternatively, find a nice local girl who is walking their dog, and chat with her on a pleasant tour around the neighbourhood, which may or may not result in you recognizing your destination as you walk past. It may take me several hours to get anywhere, but I know I am having much happier time than all those tourists walking with their hands down trying to remember whether they were meant to turn left or right at the statue of the cat god and so forth...

Don`t pack shorts
It is official, I am a collectable item. I am THE ONLY PERSON IN THIS ENTIRE COUNTRY who seems to own a pair of shorts. My hairy legs make me even more unique.

The more complex the route, the more fun it will be
Intent on abandoning the boring old bullettrain, I am about to embark on a trip to Kyoto using 3 seperate trains on a lengthly journey winding through the mountainous countryside. I hope the theory works!