Japan 2012: Hakodate > ShinAomori > Sendai

Thursday, 1 November 2012

If you're going to visit Hakodate there are four items that fall close to automatically into the must do category. We'd managed three of them the day before, but if we wanted to fit in the fourth we were going to have to be up and about around sparrow fart, and the appropriate layering of clothing was going to be a major issue.

I'd nearly frozen on the way back from the alley full of eateries the night before and wasn't keen to repeat the experience.

We were off to the Morning Fish Markets, and I wasn't sure we were going to make it.

I've seen a fish market before, and, indeed, the Sydney version is something to behold, but in this case, on a crisp autumn morning since a picture is worthy a thousand words we might as well let the pictures do the talking. More here...

There are more than 360 stalls in the daily morning market (Hakodate Asaichi) near the railway station, and the action kicks off early. Actually there wasn’t that much actual action when we strolled through, since most customers have the sense to wait until things are set up before they arrive to make their selections.

So if you’re an early bird it’s a case of getting there at five in the morning (six in winter) but there’s really no hurry.

The markets, in an area covering four city blocks, operate through the morning, closing at noon, offer an incredible variety of cold water seafood, including crabs, salmon eggs,sea urchin  freshly caught squid, scallops, Atka mackerel, and many other kinds of fresh fish and shellfish as well as fresh produce.

And you don’t have to cart your selection back to base to cook it. There are a multitude of restaurants and cafes in the area and plenty of stalls that will serve up a seafood breakfasts, such as uni-ikura domburi (seafood-topped rice bowl).

Apart from the famous Hokkaido crabs, Hakodate's signature fish is squid and the signature dish is shio rāmen, noodles prepared with squid stock instead of the pork version you’d be served elsewhere. Not Hughesy’s cup of tea, and neither is ika-meshi (rice-stuffed squid) but I’ll be back to gorge on shellfish and crab…

On the leg of the trip where being on time really mattered we were comfortably seated on the train a good quarter of an hour before departure. Not that I'm suggesting punctuality didn't matter on other stages, but if we were going to fit everything into the day's itinerary we had to be on the 8:08 Limited Express Super Hakucho and were going to be pretty smart about moving to the Shinkansen that was going to drop us at Sendai in time to head on a scenic sail around the bay at Matsushima.

We were on the left hand side of the train this time around, which meant another view across the water while we made our way towards the tunnel. The views across the bay were, once again, quite spectacular, though they'd lost some of the wow factor after the previous night's trip to the top of Mount Hakunodate.

There were the same false alarms we'd experienced on the northward journey the day before, but this time we were running on time and there was a helpful diagram and cheat sheet on the back of each seat in the carriage.

We were slightly behind the 8:56 on the back of the seat schedule when we hit the tunnel, passing the deepest point around 9:08 and the Tappi Undersea Station at 9:15, though it wasn't easy to tell which of the lights we passed were station and which belonged to a train passing in the opposite direction. My money was on a station to the left and a train to the right, but without a way of verifying the guess...

We were back on the surface pretty much on schedule at 9:21, though the tunnel factor continued to chip in as before, and the run into ShinAomori proved totally uneventful, although a lengthy stay at Aomori was followed by a change of direction for the train (nose in to Aomori, rear end leads the way back out to ShinAomori.


That would have left us sitting with our backs to the engine, but there's a facility that allows you to swing your seats through 180 degrees so you're facing the front again. Neat, eh?

We probably didn't need to do that, since it was only a matter of a couple of minutes before we were extricating ourselves from the carriage, onto a conveniently located elevator and headings towards the Shinkansen section, which was another floor above the intermediate level where we flashed our tickets and rail passes.

The train was ready and waiting, set to go, the baggage space at the rear of Carriage 2 conveniently empty, and once I'd shed the merino undergarment that had been a vital cog in the keep Hughesy warm arrangements over the previous couple of days it was time to settle back with the iPod shuffling through playlists and enjoy the bits of new territory I was able to glimpse between tunnels as we made our way towards Morioka, where we'd left the Tohoku Shinkansen line en route to Kakunodate four days earlier.

From there it was on to Sendai, where there wasn't a mad scramble to get from train to hotel to local line for the afternoon jaunt to Matsushima, but we moved at a pretty fair clip.  It wasn't as if we needed to hurry, but there's a basic issue when you're not familiar with the actual lie of the actual land and lunch was waiting at the other end of the suburban rail,leg, so it made sense to get to the right station on the right line ASAP even if there wasn't any urgency involved.

Things would have been much easier if we'd paused and looked round the corner at the Lottery agency on the corner, as per the directions we'd been given at Reception when we checked in the luggage, but we didn't look, didn't find the handy subway entrance we emerged from on the return journey subsequently almost went via the cape.

Once we'd arrived at the appropriate station, Mitsushima Kaigan (Beach) as opposed to Mitsushima which sits on the JR Tohoku Main Line  a ten minute walk away from where people visiting the scenic bay actually want to go, the first job was to find lunch.

We probably could have looked around for other options, but just along from the station there was a funky little place offering oyster burgers, which definitely seemed like the way to go. Mitsushima is, after all, a prime oyster producing area, as was obvious once we hit the water.

The oyster burger went down a treat, and I could easily have opted for another one, but there were places to go and sights that needed to be seen, so I had to be content with the prospect of a grilled oyster and a glass of white wine once we'd been out on the briny. I was intrigued, to say the least, by what variety of white wine a funky little operation like this one would be able to rustle up.


From there we set off in search of the cruise terminal, wandering through a park along the way, and arriving just in time to be hustled onto an earlier cruise, which turned out to be rather handy from a post-cruise perspective.

The bay and group of 260 pine-clad islands and islets half an hour outside Sendai known as Matsushima (Matsu = pines, shima = islands) is ranked as one of the Three Views of Japan alongside Miyajima and Amanohashidate.

There’s an apocryphal haiku often attributed to Matsuo Bashō that supposedly suggests the great poet was at a loss for words when he visited the place, stopping off on his way to or from the Deep North:

Matsushima ah!

A-ah, Matsushima, ah!

Matsushima, ah!

But he would surely have been able to come up with something better.

There are a number of companies operating cruises, most of them based at Matsushima Pier, a five minute walk (ten if you take your time) from Matsushima Kaigan Station with others operating from Shiogama Pier, a short walk from Hon-Shiogama Station, three stations ahead of Matsushima Kaigan on the JR Senseki Line.

We’d opted for the all-Matsushima experience, though if you’ve got tome on your hands it may pay to shop around. When you’ve got a couple of hours in the afternoon your choices are relatively limited. Of the hour on the water, there's not much that needs to be said, apart from invoking the one picture = a thousand words principle, noting that the water resembled a mill pond, the oyster beds were obvious and it was a very pleasant way to spend an hour. More pictures here...

Back on dry land, we were inclined to head to Godaido, a small temple hall on an islet right next door to the pier. It mightn't be the most historically significant or architecturally impressive temple going around, but the site does date back to 807 and it was founded by the same priest who founded nearby Zuiganji. The present structure on the site is a 1604 reconstruction paid for by local feudal lord Date Masamune, decorated by carvings of the twelve animals of the lunar calendar, three on each side and its prominent location means it has become one of the key symbols of Matsushima.


More impressive, although we didn't have time for a more exhaustive look is the nearby Zuiganji Temple, currently undergoing renovations. It'll stay that way until 2018 and although the grounds are open, the main hall will be closed until March 2016 though if you're visiting in the meantime they've opened during alternate buildings which aren't usually open to the public.

It would be natural to suspect the renovations are related in some way to the 9.0 magnitude earthquake and resulting tsunami on 11 March 2011, but Matsushima escaped major damage thanks to its location inside the island dotted bay since the islands blunted the impact of the waves. Most tourist attractions, shops and hotels reopened within a few weeks or months of the earthquake but  there was some structural damage and though the JR Senseki Line is open for business, after Matsushima Kaigan you can only go one stop further, so if you’re looking to get to Matsushima by train, you’re going to have to head through Sendai.

Originally founded in 828 by the Tendai Sect, Zuiganji became a Zen temple during the Kamakura Period (1192-1333) and was restored, after years of decline, by the same feudal lord (Date Masamune) who restored Godaido as his family temple in 1609 and today it's one of the region's  most prominent Zen temples, known for its gilded and painted sliding doors (fusuma) which we didn't get to see, but there's every chance we'll be back some time.

As you enter the grounds, there’s a straight path flanked by cedar trees leading to the Main Hall, the Kuri (the Zen kitchen where meals were prepared in the past) and the Seiryuden, also known as Zuiganji Art Museum displaying some of the temple's treasures and artifacts of the Date Clan, but as you head inside there’s an interesting path that veers off to the right of the main avenue that takes you to a number of caves that were used in the past for meditation, and today contain moss-covered statues.

Madam had wandered in earlier with photographic intentions, before we headed to Godaido while Hughesy was putting his feet up and was struck by the long straight path that leads to the main hall, but it was what she sighted on a side path to the right of the main one that had her hauling Hughesy in for a gander on the way back to the station from Godaido.

As it turned out we didn't stop off for a grilled oyster and a glass of white on the way back to the station, though there would have been plenty of time. Madam wasn't keen, and I didn't insist, knowing we were meeting up with some of her old friends for dinner.

Arriving back in downtown Sendai we finished the check-in procedure, and hit the free Wi Fi until six, when we wandered back downstairs to rendezvous with a couple who we, I was told, wine lovers, although she was forced to refrain, having drawn (or possibly, in the light of subsequent events, chosen) the designated driver short straw.

A brief chat in the hotel lobby had us heading back through the main Sendai Station complex in search of a funky little yaki tori place that boasted a rather decent wine list. That, by the way, is an unusual combination. Yakitori usually gets washed down with beer or sake.

We started with beer before moving onto the red, and at that point I'm inclined to draw a discreet veil over proceedings, noting that the food was plentiful and quite excellent, and the vinous proceedings started with a very acceptable Barbera and concluded with an equally enjoyable Nebbiolo, though my liver would have preferred to have done without the Koonunga Hill Shiraz Cabernet my learned colleague insisted on inserting between the two.

Japan 2012: Aomori > Hakodate

Wednesday, 31 October 2012

The day kicked off with the close to regulation reasonably early (8:24 isn’t up there with the sparrows at first light but it isn’t exactly late either) departure from a station that the cool clear light of day showed to be right beside Aomori’s waterfront. There was a ferry that transports cars and passengers (presumably) to Hokkaido visible from the footbridge en route to Platform 6).

On the northern tip of Honshu, facing Hokkaido across the Tsugaru Strait, Aomori Prefecture has a number of tourist attractions, most of them nature related, though historic ruins including Sannai-Maruyama (Japan's largest, said to date back to 4,000 to 5,000 BC), Korekawa and Kamegaoka would have their share of appeal to the interested observer and Hirosaki Castle is a well-known cherry blossom venue.

Given our schedule (arriving around seven-twenty in the evening, off to take the tunnel under the Tsugaru Strait before eight-thirty the following morning), however, we were never going to be doing much looking around.

The city is a relatively recent development, dating back to the  Edo period, when the Hirosaki clan began building a seaport and used woods nearby as landmarks for inward-bound shipping. The name Aomori either translates as blue or green forest and the name did not come into common use until after 1783 though there’s a counter theory that attributes it to an Ainu word, but there’s no doubt the town was an important stepping stone in the Japanese colonisation of Hokkaido.

As indicated, human occupation of the area goes back a ways, and it was part of the region ruled from Hiraizumi by the Northern Fujiwara clan during the Heian period, although it was still largely inhabited by the hunting and gathering Emishi people. Around the start of the Edo period, Aomori was a minor port settlement but in the administrative reforms following the Meiji Restoration feudal domains were abolished and replaced with prefectures, a process that brought about the inauguration of Aomori prefecture on 23 September 1871. Aomori, however, wasn’t designated as a city until 1 April 1898.

You can’t help thinking those developments were related to the Japanese aim to bring the whole of the archipelago under Imperial rule and restrict foreign incursions, and within a year of the creation of Aomori Prefecture the Hokkaidō Colonization Office was operating a ferry service from Aomori to Hakodate. Twenty years later the opening of the Tōhoku Main Line connected the area with Tokyo by rail. The line we’d used to reach the city is slightly more recent, dating back to 1908.


Modern Aomori owes much of its status (apart from the lurks and perks associated with being the prefectural capital) to its position at the terminus of those two rail lines and role as the port for the Seikan Ferry line, which opened in 1908, sailed between Aomori and Hakodate nearly three-quarters of a million times, carrying 160 million passengers until the Seikan Tunnel, the longest tunnel of its kind in the world, came into service.

The Tōhoku Expressway connected Aomori to Tokyo by highway in 1979 and the city is currently the northern terminus of Japan's Shinkansen service, though that will change in the not too distant future when the new bullet train line goes in under the Tsugaru Strait. We saw fairly obvious signs that construction of that line is well and truly under way.

Sighting the ferry on the way to the morning train was a reminder of those matters...

From Aomori the line more or less followed the coast, with views across the water to Hokkaido, though what I first thought to be the northern island turned out, on closer inspection, to be the northeastern arm of Honshu. Blue sky, bright sunshine meant it was sunglasses weather, not exactly conducive to typing, but that would be caught upon the half hour haul under the Tsugaru Strait.

We were running right beside the beach as we came into Kanita, and there was a lengthier than usual delay due to problems on the other side. From Kanita the line started to move inland, with deep green forests on either side and broad swathes of multicoloured leaves interspersed among the evergreens, though there were paddy fields closer to the line itself.

By 9:03 we were starting to run into tunnels, the first of them relatively short, and by 9:05 we’d reached a longer one, emerging again by 9:08, when we were supposed to be hitting the big one. The train came to a halt at Tsugaru Hamana, and when we were underway again, with water clearly visible on the left at 9:11 we were in another tunnel, not quite the one that meant our next sighting of daylight would've on Hokkaido, and there were more as we made our way under coastal ridges running down to the sea, which was still over there on our left.

The false alarms meant I wasn't sure whether the tunnel we hit at 9:14 was the big one, but given the fact that we were still hurtling through the darkness two minutes later, I guess it was.

We were supposed to hit the bottom at 9:22, two hundred and forty metres down in a tunnel ten metres wide and eight metres high,though there was no way of assessing dimensions in the Stygian gloom outside. It was a major engineering feat, some forty-two years in the making.

At 9:40 we were onto Hokkaido, emerging with a heavily wooded hillside area on our left as the train pulled into the station at Shiriuchi. We were back in a tunnel shortly thereafter, presumably prompted by the same engineering concerns that applied on the other side.

We were on the eastern side of the train, so it was definitely sunglasses weather as we passed what definitely looked like the in progress construction of the Hokkaido Shinkansen line, the water in the Strait was like a mill pond and it was a case of sitting back and enjoying the view for the rest of the journey.

The last stage took us on a sweeping loop around the harbour that brought Hakodate to prominence, so at this point I guess it's time for another little diversion into the world of historical and geographical background.

As the first city whose port was opened to foreign trade in 1854, Hakodate used to be the most important port in northern Japan and the largest city in Hokkaido before the Great Hakodate Fire of 1934. The city now runs third behind Sapporo and Asahikawa.

Hakodate's origins date back to 1454, when Kono Kaganokami Masamichi built a manor house in an Ainu fishing village called Usukeshi (the word for bay in Ainu). We're talking frontier lifestyle and issues with the indigenous people here, and an Ainu rebellion drove Masamichi's son, Kono Suemichi, and family out of Hakodate in 1512.

There isn't much in the way of recorded history for the next century with recurrent low level conflict between the Ainu and armed merchants like the Kono family, who set out to establish trading posts and control trade in the region. Given the frontier experience elsewhere you'd tend to assume people weren't interested in keeping records for posterity and you'd guess there wasn't a great deal of official government supervision either.

In any case there was an Ainu uprising led by a warrior called Shakushain between 1669 and 1672, that resulted in defeat and suppression for the Ainu and laid the foundations for modern Hakodate. By the nineteenth century the settlement was flourishing and there was fairly rapid development after, the Tokugawa shogunate took direct control over Hakodate in 1779. A magistracy was established in 1802.

But the big change came in 1854, when a fleet of five U.S. ships surveyed the harbour under the terms of the Convention of Kanagawa, negotiated by Commodore Matthew Perry and the port was completely opened to foreign trade on 2 June 1859 as one of five Japanese points of contact with the outside world. Visitors can see evidence of that status in the Old Foreign Quarter, which hosted several overseas consulates.

On the ground in Hakodate the first priority was, as usual, dropping the Black Monster at the hotel but there were a couple of logistical and administrative details that needed to be attended to. Madam needed to book the next batch of train tickets, and the travelling funds needed to be replenished so a rendezvous with an ATM was also a priority.


We could have accomplished those things before we hit the hotel, but railway ticket offices and Black Monsters aren't a good match, so we took the item in question to its overnight lodgings, where we found our room was ready for us. That, at least, took another item out of the equation since there was no need to get back to formally check in.

Downstairs we had a chat to the very helpful gentleman on the front desk, and headed back to the station for tickets and cash replenishment. There were, basically three main items on the agenda, and the discussion at the hotel had done a fair bit to sort them into a workable sequence.

We started with a trip across town to the star shaped fortress at Goryokaku, a relic of the era when Japan was just opening up to contact with the West, built in the last years of the Edo Period to defend Hakodate against imperialist threats from Western powers. Completed in 1864, Goryōkaku was Japan's first European-style fortress, finished just in time for it to be occupied as the headquarters of the secessionist Ezo Republic after Shogunate rebel Enomoto Takeaki fled to Hakodate with the remnants of his navy and his handful of French advisers in 1866. They formally established the Republic of Ezo on Christmas Day and made unsuccessful attempts to gain international recognition through the foreign legations in thecity, but government forces defeated the secessionists in the Battle of Hakodate in 1869 and the city and fort surrendered peacefully.

Once the fort had lost its military significance, it was turned into a public park, with 1,600 cherry trees were planted round the moats, making it one of Hokkaido's best cherry blossom spots and the best views come from the nearby Goryōkaku Tower though you’re apparently likely to be waiting up to three hours to make the ascent at the height of the sakura season. A hundred metres up looking towards the Former Magistrate Office in the centre of the fort, you can see why.

The area around the castle and tower is a noted eating  and drinking area, and we'd picked up two recommendations for lunch. Faced with a choice between curry and ramen the noodles won, largely due to the number of encounters I've had with curry over the past week. Ramen was always going to be Madam's preferred option anyway, so there was an element of diplomacy in there as well.


The ramen arrived in a large bowl of stock, and having once again left Hughesy's fork at the hotel I had no choice but to have a go with the chopsticks. As it turned outI could have asked for a fork since my unorthodox but highly effective chopstick technique prompted one of the waiters to deliver one. By that point, however, I'd demolished about 90% of the noodle content, so the fork remained where it had been placed.

From there we headed into the Tower for a panoramic view across the city as a whole and the fortress in particular, and we made our way back downstairs after a wander around the historical explanations and little dioramas and headed for the fortress itself, where the defensive walls had been planted with sakura, providing the basis for what could have been an extensive photographic session.

We had, however, other fish to fry so we made our way back to the tram line and headed for the old Foreign Quarter. As one of the first ports opened to foreign shipping you might have tipped great things for Hakodate, but relative isolation (which was, I suspect,one of the reasons why the port was selected in the first place) meant the city was bypassed by later, more centrally positioned rivals. That, of course, means much of what was built in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries is still there, assuming it wasn't destroyed in the 1907 fire, and much of what fell victim to the flames seems to have been rebuilt in a similar style.

Interestingly, the area near the foot of Mount Hakodate is known as Motomachi, which translates as original town, which probably explains the presence of the old Hakodate Public Hall a European-style building which housed Hakodate's government in the early twentieth century. Equally interesting is the fact that Kobe, Nagasaki and Yokohama also feature districts bearing the same name.

We took a lengthy ramble through the hillside section of the area, passing Russian Orthodox, Roman Catholic and Episcopal Churches, the old and Russian and British Consulates, and the Higashi Honganji Temple and made our way down to the red brick warehouses along the waterfront which have been redeveloped into a trendy shopping, dining and entertainment complex. It’s a prime example of the sort of shopping you tend to find in a touristy area of a gift-oriented society as well as a hub of the city's eating and drinking activities.

We also passed Japan’s first concrete electricity pole, and located the Spanish style eatery Madam had selected as a possible dinner option.

By this time we were waiting for sunset, since the third leg of the Hakodate trifecta involved an ascent of Mount Hakunodate to view one of the best three nighttime vistas in Japan (alongside Nagasaki's Mount Inasa and Kobe's Mount Rokko) that happens to be rated the equal of the evening views across Naples and Hong Kong. The rambling had just about run out of possibilities around four, so with a good hour and a half to wait for the bus that would take us to the summit we headed back to the hotel for a brief spell.

The helpful advice we'd received on arrival hadn't quite turned out to be on the money, since he'd advised against the purchase of a day long tram ticket, which seemed to cost more than the likely sum total of fares between the railway station and the fortress and back to Motomachi, but we both agreed that if we'd shelled out for the day pass we might have headed further around to the Foreigners' Cemetery rather than moseying back to the accommodation.


In any case, rugged up to the best of our ability we were back out around 5:10, heading for the bus terminal, where a 5:30 service would take us up to the top. Actually, as it turned out, we were lucky to be on the spot early since our position in the queue that formed after the Motomachi Gourmet bus left landed us seats rather than standing room.

Mount Hakodate is  a lumpy, 334 metre high, wooded mountain at the southern end of the peninsula on which central Hakodate is located with the local nickname of Gagyūzan (Mount Cow's Back), since the mountain allegedly resembles a resting cow. Once you’re at the summit there are a couple of observation platforms, souvenir shops, a cafe and a restaurant.

Advice at the hotel had suggested the bus (¥360 return) rather than the rope way (¥640/1160 one-way/return) which might have been quicker, but was definitely more expensive. It would also (and I admit I'm guessing here) have provided a continuous vista along a single line of sight where the bus, twisting and turning on its way up the ascent, offered a couple of rather spectacular views on both sides of the vehicle. This is also a significant factor since the facilities at the top are frequently shrouded in cloud.

Hint: If you take the bus, try to wangle seats on the same side for both legs of the journey. There are good views from both sides of the vehicle, and if you swap you'll end up basically seeing the same thing both ways.

The bus was close to packed to the gunwhales on the way up, but once we were there the mob dispersed to all quarters, with most of them evidently opting to descend via the rope way. Actually, bus one way, rope way t'other seemed to be the generally preferred option since we found ourselves sharing the downward bus with a bunch of stylishly dressed young hipsters who alighted in the gourmet quarter, evidently out for a big night out.

I guessed they hadn't caught an earlier bus,  had made the ascent via the rope way, and with the sightseeing done were off to make merry.

We took ourselves around to a suitable vantage point overlooking the city for a round of snapshot action where capturing the full moon over the city lights was a priority. Once we'd accomplished that we made our way into the summit complex, with the requisite array of gift shops, tea houses and restaurants and a rooftop viewing area that might have offered the best views but was also, predictably, packed along the railings, making photography a marginally more difficult assignment.

In any case we were out to get a seat onthe 6:20 bus back to the bottom, and found ourselves occupying the same seats we'd had for the ascent, thus locking in the both sides of the view aspect.

Back on the ground we headed back to the hotel, since the camera bag was now surplus to requirements, and the plan for the rest of the evening  involved chicken yaki tori and a couple of cleansing ales. That plan came unstuck when we stopped to chat with the helpful front desk man,who informed us the proprietor of the convenient eatery next door was inclined to be difficult. (Really? a chef with quirky personality issues? Who'd have thunk?)


He directed us instead to a rather interesting little warren of eating and drinking places a good couple of hundred metres away on the other side of the major intersection near the railway station where we'd boarded the bus. Now, you might take this next bit the wrong way, so it's important to emphasize that while I was keen to hit the yaki tori chicken with a couple of beers for the evening meal the key issues were avoiding a big meal, and, particularly, avoiding the rice, salad and miso soup that almost invariably accompanies a set meal in Japan. In short, I was looking for a little bit of something tasty, preferably something that didn't require chopsticks.

We arrived  in a little maze that contained about fourteen assorted eateries, most of them of the sit at the counter and drink while you snack on the nibbles you can order off the blackboard menu. There weren't any spaces at the yaki tori place, but there were a number of alternatives. The problem was, initially, deciding which one, and then when we'd settled on one particular establishment, avoiding Madam's natural inclination to try as many as possible of the yummy alternatives.

Personally, I would have been happy to have had another couple of goes at the scallops we started with, simmered in a little stock on top of a small metho stove, with a particularly large shell as a cooking vessel. I wasn't keen on the sight of raw scallops, but once they'd simmered away atop the little cooker the result was quite superb. As stated, once they were gone I could easily have gone another, probably another and quite possibly a fourth serve, turning the pieces in the cooking broth and taking hearty swigs of beer in between turns.

Madam, on the other hand, couldn't help but order sashimi, which I'm sure I could have done had I been Japanese, and there was a dish of potatoes where you were supposed to hollow out a space on the middle and insert raw squid and a daub of butter. This, I gather, is a Hokkaido delicacy, and it wasn't bad, but, as the reader might guess, it involved chopsticks to do the hollowing out, something I was hoping to avoid.

I was also hoping to avoid the suggestions that I might like to try assorted bits and pieces off the platter of sashimi which followed said platter's arrival. Like I said earlier, I was after a small fed that didn't involve chopstick and definitely wanted to avoid concern about whether I was enjoying myself. Because, actually, I was. We're talking an eating and drinking environment you're not going to find in Australia, and if there weren't the old language issues I'd have been joining in the badinage.

We were in there following a chat with the proprietress, whose son acted as the barman while she did a bit in the room at the rear that served as the kitchen. When we arrived there was a married couple finishing up before heading elsewhere and a couple of girls apparently on a quiet night out. Conversation ebbed and flowed back and forth, aided, abetted and redirected by the bar man, who was a pretty classy operator.  After the couple left, a rotund and rather jovial gentleman arrived, settled in to simmer scallops and engage in repartee, much of which seemed to concern the relative merits of Hokkaido and Tokyo, which was, as far as I could gather, where the two girls were from.

All in all a very enjoyable little session, except for the fact that the bloke over there was sitting down to what I'd have preferred to be eating rather than the other bits and pieces that seemed to be deemed necessary to broaden Hughesy's gustatory horizons. Those attempts we're definitely something I could have done without, as was the inevitable consequence of moving the venue from staggering distance of the hotel to a much more remote location.

We'd been snug enough in the little eatery, and when we hit the side street outside things weren't too bad, but as we stood at the intersection near the bus terminal waiting for the lights to change the wind factor kicked in big time. It's fair to say I've never been colder in my life. One minute I was fine, but as the body core temperature plunged, Madam looked in my direction, noted that I seemed to be having trouble and asked whether I was all right. An anguished No produced an offer of the scarf she'd been using to insulate her neck, which produced a minor thermal crisis on that front. Needless to say, once the lights decided to change, there was a frantic scramble across the intersection, along the main street to the side street that housed the hotel and though that cut out a large part of the wind chill it took a good five to ten minutes to restore the equanimity once we were safely inside.

A warm bath for Madam, a hearty slug of medicinal sake for Hughesy and by nine thirty both of us were snugly pushing up Zs, with the prospect of an early rise on the morrow, when temperatures were bound to be a major cause for concern.