Japan 2012: Kitakami > Hiraizumi > Kakunodate

Sunday, 28 October 2012

Given the circumstances when I woke the next morning, seemingly the first human to have emerged from slumber, I did a quick calculation and decided if I was going to sit anywhere with the iPad on the knees and continue to tap out the narrative it was a case of finding the niche at the top of the stairs and ignoring the piteous whining emanating from the living area below.

Had I ventured downstairs there would have been two insistent canines demanding attention, and until someone else surfaced and took up the running that would make the writing bit impossible. I hadn't been at it too long before Our Host surfaced, and I caught up on the rest of the previous day before venturing into the maelstrom for a shower and breakfast.

Readers may suspect Hughesy's engaging in a bit of hyperbole when I use the word maelstrom to describe a living area inhabited by two smallish dogs, but given the nonstop hyperactivity (Red Cordial Dog) and the frenzied demands for attention (Grog Dog) I'm afraid no other, more suitable term springs to mind.

It's equally difficult to come up with a word to summarize the venue that occupied the bulk of the day, the small town of Hiraizumi and its premier attraction, Chuson-ji Temple.

We set off just after nine, heading south to a place we'd visited last time around when persistent drizzle had sent us indoors for lunch rather than up the steps to the temple, and had already taken a look at the town's other main draw card at Motsu-ji, and maybe, if I'd done some homework I'd have been more inclined to venture into the drizzle rather than sit inside and shovel curry down the gullet. This time around, however, I'd done fairly detailed research, so strap yourselves in for a fairly lengthy exposition, boys and girls.

There was a certain degree of concern on our hostess' part as to whether I really wanted to go to Chuson-ji, but I produced the handy PDF with the walking around the town map that seemed to quell most of her concerns. There were a number of places I wanted to go, even if going constituted a brief glance and a photo.

On the surface, driving through the town, there's nothing to differentiate Hiraizumi from a myriad of other small Japanese country towns, though if you reach the car parks outside two major attractions you'd soon realize there's something special in the vicinity.

So, the back story...


A population of just under eight and a half thousand is a far cry from the late Heian era (around nine hundred years ago) and the Kamakura period when Hiraizumi was the home of the Hiraizumi Fujiwaras, the most powerful clan in Japan, and served as the de facto capital of an area that covered nearly one-third of the country. At that point the population was somewhere between fifty thousand and one hundred thousand, and the city’s cultural and political status almost rivalled the national capital, Kyoto.

The oldest structure in Hiraizumi seems to be Hakusan Shrine at the summit of Mount Kanzan (Barrier Mountain), described in 1334 as being seven hundred years old. The shrine has been rebuilt a number of times but its latest incarnation still stands in the same strategic location.

That strategic location, at  the junction of  the Kitakami and Koromo Rivers, was probably what prompted Fujiwara no Kiyohira to move his home to Mount Kanzan around 1100. The Koromo River was the traditional boundary between the Japanese heartland to the south and the northern Emishi peoples.

Japanese hunters, trappers, settlers and missionaries had been in contact with the Emishi since the early eighth century, with a Buddhist priest Gyōki establishing  Kokuseki-ji Temple in the mountains east of the Kitakami River in 729. Military expeditions to subdue the Emishi were repelled in 776 and 787 but a Japanese scorched earth policy of burning crops and capturing and resettling women and children prompted the Emishi leaders Aterui and More to surrender in 802. They were subsequently beheaded.

It’s one thing to defeat your enemies but quite another to keep them subdued, and rather than ruling the newly-acquired territory directly it ended up as half a dozen semi-autonomous districts along the Kitakami River that eventually came under the control of a powerful Emishi clan, the Abe family. Semi-autonomous is the operative word here, and after Abe no Yoritoki refused to pay taxes to Kyoto, led raids south of the Koromo River and acted as if he was an independent ruler he obviously needed to be subdued.

The result was the Zenkunen or Early Nine-Years War (1050-1062) which saw the Abes defeated by Minamoto no Yoriyoshi and Kiyohara no Takenori and the six districts handed over to Kiyohara no Takenori. That didn’t work out either, and corruption resulted in the Gosannen or Latter Three Years' War (1083-1087).

Around thirteen years later, Fujiwara no Kiyohira moved to Hiraizumi, right on the former border, planning to rule an area stretching from the Shirakawa Barrier in the south to present day Aomori Prefecture in the north. His new base was located almost exactly in the centre of the Tōhoku region on the main road leading from Kyoto to the north (the Frontier Way).

Kiyohira built Chūson-ji at the top of the mountain and other pagodas, temples and gardens followed through Hiraizumi's golden age that lasted a mere three generations until 1189, when the city was razed by Minamoto Yoritomo, soon to become Japan's first shogun who was in pursuit of his brother and rival Yoshitsune, who was being given protection by the Fujiwara leader. After the fall of the Fujiwaras the town sank back into obscurity, with most of the buildings destroyed. When Matsuo Bashō visited the area in 1689 he reflected on the impermanence of human glory:

Ah, summer grasses! 

All that remains

Of the warriors dreams



It was the contrast between the former glory and  contemporary reality that prompted the desire to visit somewhere and take a look around a few places where there didn't seem that much to actually see.

But, first, there was Chuson-ji.

We arrived in the car park to find the place close to checkers with not one, not two, but three baton-wielding traffic wardens guiding the incoming flow of cars and buses into appropriate slots in the parking area.

Wandering over to the entrance, we were expecting to pay the regulation couple of hundred yen to get in (nominal fee to fund maintenance and upkeep) and, surprisingly, none was asked for, though we did receive a fairly flash English language leaflet describing the town's main attractions.

We made our way up the hill, through a magnificent avenue of ancient trees, passing a variety of smaller structures.

Apart from its status as Hiraizumi's most famous temple, Chūson-ji serves as the head temple of the Tendai sect in Tōhoku, but it is best known for its Golden Hall (Konjikidō), a mausoleum that contains the mummified remains of the leaders of the clan who ruled the region in its 12th century heyday.

The Tendai sect claims the temple was founded in 850 by Ennin, but most scholars believe Chūson-ji was founded around 1100 since there is no archaeological or historical record of Buddhist activity in this area before that time.

Similar to Kyoto's Kinkakuji (Golden Pavilion), the Konjikidō is a hall completely covered in gold, dates back to 1124, one of two buildings that survive from the original complex. The other is the Kyozo Hall, which served as a repository for sutra (Buddhist scripture). While not nearly as impressive as the gilded Konjikido, it predates that building by 16 years.

The Konjikidō originally sat in the open air, but successive measures to protect it from the elements saw it housed inside a wooden building that still stands on the site today, and subsequently moved inside a purpose built concrete building behind thick glass so that it's now only visible from the front.

Dedicated to Amida Nyorai (the Buddha of Infinite Light) the structure, which measures five-and-a-half metres on the sides and stands eight metres high, contains altars for each of the first three Fujiwara lords. Apart from the roof, the whole thing is covered with gold leaf, decorated with golden lacquer and mother-of-pearl, and studded with gold and silver, with three Buddha images.


Walking around the network of paths that reach around a kilometre into the mountaintop forest there's more to Chusonji than the golden hall, though that is, of course, what draws the crowds. Other interesting buildings on site include  a number of interesting buildings apart from those dating back to the Fujiwara period. There's the Hondo (main hall), where the main rituals and rites are performed, a Treasure Hall that houses some impressive artifacts and a noh theatre stage.

Having made our way around the temple, it was time for something solid in the way of sustenance, and given the number of tourists and sightseers in the area you'd probably expect a lengthy delay, though one hoped the majority of those inclined to seek out lunch were in the process of being delayed by the booming drums and the Noh theatre performance we'd bypassed.

We were on a sealed side track, separate from the path we'd followed on the way up when we passed a seemingly innocuous building with some Japanese signage out the front. I'd probably have wandered past, but Our Host pulled us up, took a squiz at the sign and suggested we head inside. The description of what we'd be getting inside wasn't the sort of thing that would prompt an immediate Yes! But, on the other hand, if we could get in that took the lunch issue right off the agenda.


Which it duly did, and rather tasty it was, too. We could go into details, but there are memory, space and tapping time issues that keep us moving relentlessly forward. Lunch was also punctuated by frequent updates on the score line from a soccer semifinal, where Our Host's school were battling the local equivalent of Argentina for a spot in the final. At two-nil down things did not look promising.

Back in the car we headed off in search of locations associated with former glories and frequent updates on the soccer score line, which moved from two-nil down to two-all by full time. an own goal had the opposition ahead, then came the equalizer before the team hero slotted in the penalty that won the game.

And there's a little story that goes with that. The star footballer, obviously not a scholastic type, had been looking at avenues of employment once he's finished his schooling and wasn't a candidate for tertiary education. He had, according to Our Host, already applied for a job as a fireman, and had been scheduled for the old job interview that very day. With a morning match against Morioka and a morning job interview it looked like something was going to have to give, and you'd probably assume that a career path would take precedence over temporary sporting glory.

At the same time the Japanese seem to take their school sport fairly seriously. The first full day of our last visit coincided with the Grand Final of a High School baseball competition significant enough to warrant nationwide TV coverage.

I know because I saw it, and we ended up sitting at a table next door to a bunch of celebrating Okinawans, chainsmoking and toasting their home town's national success later that evening.

A soccer semifinal in the Deep North might not be in quite the same territory, but was significant enough to have the Mayor, in his capacity as head honcho of the local authorities, order the Fire Brigade to reschedule the interview so the school's star striker could play.

They lost the Grand Final, but he subsequently got the job.

As far as the locations associated with former glories were concerned, the weather put paid to Hughesy's plan to wander around the place on foot, but we managed to find the ruins of Kanjizaiō-in which once boasted a 'Pure Land' style Jōdo Garden, built by Fujiwara Motohira's wife. That was destroyed by fire in the 16th century, and while many of the structures were rebuilt afterwards today, all that remains  is a park and a pond.

Across the road from the park a sign on the edge of a cluster of contemporary houses represents all that's left of what amounted to the commercial sector of the section of the Frontier Way that effectively represented old Hiraizumi's main street, an area that included several tens of blocks of shops, storehouses and commercial premises.

From there we took ourselves over to the ruins of Muryokō-in Temple, modelled after Byodo-in Temple in Kyoto , but apart from the sign that identifies the location all that remains is the temple's pond, along with a larger sign that gives you an impression of the magnificent structure that once stood there.

We also made our way towards the summit of  Mount Kinkeisan, where Buddhist sutras were once buried, and while, under more favourable conditions I might have been tempted to take a stroll down the paved path  I figured I'd dictated the agenda for long enough, and passed over the reins to Our Host, figuring it wasn't that long before the train left and there were other fish to fry, more than likely in an environment of coloured leaves.

The quest for coloured leaves brought us back to the Genbi Gorge, home of the flying dungo, though you'd have expected the weather to have stifled the dungo trade. We parked behind the Sahara Glass Park,and once again pretend to be paying customers before heading for the gorge, where the coloured leaves weren't quite at their best yet, but weren't too far off.

From there it was on to the station at Ichinoseki, farewell to Our Host, and on to a Shinkansen that took us as far as Morioka, where news of the soccer semifinal defeat didn't seem to have reached the platform. We made our way across to the right line for the Akita Shinkansen, and we're on the ground in Kakunodate on schedule in not quite pitch dark and drizzle just after five-fifteen.

Fortunately the hotel was located right next door to the station, the rain wasn't falling that heavily and the dash across open space was a mere cricket pitch or thereabouts.

Better, a quick investigation revealed a coin laundry, which solved a slight predicament. We'd been on the road for five days, and the laundry backup wasn't anywhere near the desperate stage, but with two nights in Kakunodate, a late arrival into Aomori on Tuesday and an evening appointment in Sendai on Wednesday, it made sense to get what we'd accumulated clean, and push the crisis point back another week or so.

Dinner at the hotel restaurant did a perfectly acceptable job of filling a yawning gap without threatening to hit any heights, and we treated to the room, free Wi Fi and a couple of healthy slugs out of the bottle of sake that had been donated to the keep them warm in the mountains campaign in Kitakami.

Needless to say there was no question of needing any rocking...

Japan 2012: Kobe > Tokyo > Kitakami

Saturday, 27 October 2012

The Tokyo Express wasn't leaving until 9:25 but I was awake around the regulation back home time, which meant the body clock was operating in Australian mode and we had time for leisurely movement through the shower, and a casual check of the packing arrangements.

So casual that when we made our way downstairs for the Viking we neglected to grab two vouchers on the way out. Back upstairs, minor panic when they weren't quite where we thought they were. It was a timely reminder that you don't want to take things too easy.

There was a single pass through the buffet for Hughesy, and Madam's return visit brought back a single serve of a single item. We were upstairs by 7:40, loaded and locked and checking out before eight, catching the 8:05 shuttle, which delivered us to Sannomiya in plenty of time to take the one stop underground leg to ShinKobe, arriving hree-quarters of an hour before the scheduled departure.

The frequency of Shinkansen services along the Tokaido line was underlined by the fact that our 9:25 Hikari was the third train headed for Tokyo after nine o'clock, and followed almost immediately after a faster Nozumi, which left at 9:22.

Once aboard, the Black Monster went into the space behind the seats at the back of the carriage, the backpacks went onto the overhead, and we settled back for the three hour haul to Tokyo. As soon as the train started moving we were straight into a tunnel and when we emerged a minute or two later we were zooming along around rooftop level. We'd landed Car 7 Seats 10 B&C, which meant we didn't have access to the window seat, which seemed to be vacant. I could have been tempted to snaffle the spare seat but with Osaka and Kyoto coming up in quick succession I thought it might not be a good idea.

Just as well. A couple of minutes later we were in Osaka where a flood of passengers filled up most of the vacant seats, leaving 10A teasingly empty as we set back off. That brought us onto flat land between Osaka and Kyoto, passing houses intermingled with agricultural plots, assorted commercial premises, apartment blocks, a stretch of forest, a real patchwork of land use.

We came up into Kyoto in a hurry. One moment I was checking we hadn't passed it without noticing because I thought we'd be there by now and the next, there we (quite literally) were. Another flood of incomers failed to fill 10A, so as we emerged from the regulation tunnel on the way out of Kyoto I took advantage of the vacant window seat. With half an hour until Nagoya I might as well.

Again, the land between Kyoto and Nagoya is mostly flat, with the same patchwork of land use. We weren't quite in Nagoya when the news ticker at the front of the carriage revealed Silvio Berlusconi had been sentenced to four years, and Nagoya delivered  an occupant for 10A.

The presence of a head between Hughesy and the window had me looking around a bit more than would have been the case otherwise, something that underlined the cambering of the tracks on the Shinkansen lines. Queensland has the tilt train that heads along regular railway tracks, but if you want genuine speed and extremely rapid transit you want to be travelling on a train that leans into the cambered curve.

We'd doneNagoya > Tokyo in two legs last time, one as far as Odawara en route to Hakone and the rest of the way a day later, so it wasn't new territory. Just as well since sunshine had 9A and 10A sliding down the shades, and directing the sightseeing side of things to the left hand side, which was the quarter where you'd expect to be sighting Mount Fuji.

Predictably, between the camber and the weather conditions, the Fuji-viewing prospects weren't looking too flash, but heading out of Hamamatsu, when the camber permitted the sight of mountains away on the left (partially obscured by haze, but definitely mountains) made me much more hopeful.By the time we pulled up in Mishima, however, it was obvious that the Curse of the Frockster had kicked in again.

For years, well before our 2008 journey, the Frockster had babbled on about trips to Japan and the possibilities of planting a Bowen Mango on top of Mount Fuji, a prospect so sacrilegious the deities guarding the mountain kept it shrouded in cloud and drizzle while we were there. It was an obvious case of ensuring we couldn't locate the sacred peak on the off chance we might return with plans to fulfill Eylesy's suggestion.

10A was vacated at Mishima, which lies on the edge of the Yokohama-Tokyo conurbation, with a subsequent increase in the frequency of tunnels  and apart from the improvement in the sightseeing aspect there was a handy electrical outlet that allowed a slight recharge of the iPad as we thundered towards Tokyo. It would only be a tad over half an hour, but every little bit helps.

Everything needed to be packed away the stop before Tokyo itself, and once we were off the train it was a case of seeking out The Translator, which turned out to be remarkably easy, given the number of people who were in and around Tokyo Station.

Once the rendezvous had been made, we wandered off to check out restoration work that had just been completed, restoring the ground level entrance to the facade built just under a century before.

A couple of photos of the impressive dome at the actual entrance and we were off across the station square for lunch.

We had around two hours to spend over lunch, and a glance around the immediate vicinity revealed queues just about everywhere. Fortunately we spotted a vacant table in the corner of an Italian place that seemed to belong to the eat at the counter persuasion, and grabbed it tout suite, I can tell you.

It turned out to be a very handy stroke of lunch. The pasta was freshly made on the premises, the accompaniments were quite acceptable, and there were a couple of Italian wines on the wine list, so I managed a rather good Montepulciano over lunch. When we found ourselves with another hour to kill the options were to order something else and stay where we were or head off in search of somewhere we could sit and talk.

If the dessert menu had included cassata I'd have ordered one, but it didn't, so I had settle for a rather moreish Nebbiolo. Fortunately I took my time over it, and was able to resist the siren song. With lunch out of the way it wash case of back to the station, so we took the lift down to the basement and made our way back through the underground redevelopment that proved very interesting indeed.

There wasn't much, surprisingly, until we'd passed through the barrier into the Station proper, where we found a veritable rabbit warren of retail outlets, including a liquor operation that was offering a little wine tasting.

I tried two versions of an indigenous red grape variety, something that mightn't sound too promising, but the early drinking style was good, and the other, given the benefit of a little bottle age was quite acceptable. I've tasted worse wines made by far better known operations from much more established varieties.

We'd dawdled a bit along the way, and when we spotted a clock showing 2:44 when we were due for a 2:56 departure it was a case of a couple of quick photographs and a scramble to find the seats and, more importantly, claim a bit the all important space behind the seats in the rear of the carriage to stow the Black Monster.

That space was almost gone, but I managed to claim the remaining bit, something that came in handy when we made the mad scramble off the train in Sendai. Kitakami isn't one of the stopping points for the faster services and we'd deliberately veered away from the stop everywhere all the way from Tokyo option which would have meant a substantial reduction in time allocated for lunch.

Tapping out the update took us out of greater Tokyo, through the stop at Umiya and towards the tsunami zone. We'd been over this section before, around the same time of day four and a half years previously, and we were on the right hand side of the northbound train again. The countryside is fairly flat, and while there isn't a whole lot of actual visual interest along the way the patchwork is easy on the eye, and the more urban stretches have plenty of green scattered among the buildings.

The run towards Sendai proved simultaneously easy on the eye and mildly disturbing, largely due to the amount of greenery across to the horizon. We'd headed across this time with hopes of sighting hillsides full of autumnal colouring, but apart from the odd russet patch here and there the foliage, on the southern side of Sendai, at least, remained a deep green that was, as suggested, rather pleasing as a vista but wasn't what we were there for. Still, we weren't all that far into the Deep North Perhaps things would be more promising as the latitudes rose and altitude kicked in.

Something)= brought us to an unscheduled stop at Fukushima, where there was no sign of the nuclear power facility that attracted so much attention in the aftermath of last year's tsunami, largely, I guess due to the mountain range that lies between the city and the coast. That isn't the case at Sendai, where we were due to change trains.

The Shinkansen was around five minutes late coming in to Sendai, and our slower up country train was due to leave five minutes after the scheduled arrival time of the Shinkansen, but it was waiting on the other side of the platform when we arrived, and we managed the switch without difficulty.

The up country train doesn't use the same tracks as its more sophisticated sibling, and from the time we pulled out of Sendai, that was rather obvious. Not to suggest we're talking the old clickety clack of the Queensland rattler, but we moved into the gathering dusk at a noticeably slower speed with much more frequent stops.

The first was at Furukawa, but not far past there we were into a fairly solid wall of forest on the left hand side of the train, which is where we found ourselves this time around. I may well be wrong about the forest, but as we rattled along at a fair old sub-Shinkansen clip there weren't too many lights out there until we started to slow down for the stop at Kurikoma-Kogan. While we were pulled up there a passing Shinkansen reminded us of the pecking order.  Madam remarked that we must be starting to climb, and we were probably moving into coloured leaves territory. Given the fact it was now totally dark outside there was no way to verify the notion but I hoped she was right.

The carriage hadn't exactly been crowded when we boarded, but there was a steady flow of departures that continued at Ichinoseki, And again at Kanegasaki so that by the time we reached Kitakami there was practically no one left and most of us chickens alighted there.

A check on the ubiquitous Google won’t give you that much on Kitakami, but in any case we weren’t there for tourist attractions or sightseeing. Madam and Our Host go back far enough to warrant a visit when we’re there, so it’s a matter of catching up and conversing after an evening arrival, with the option of taking a squiz at the sights the next day.

Located around the confluence of the Kitakami and Waga Rivers in Iwate Prefecture, Kitakami (population around 95,000) sits on the Tōhoku Shinkansen and Tōhoku Main Lines, both operated by JR East, connecting Tokyo and Aomori which makes it a convenient and reasonably accessible resting spot for people looking to catch up with old friends. It's about three hours north of Tokyo on Nasuno/Hikari, the slowest of the three versions of the Shinkansen, which delivers a fair indication of the pecking order where the bullet trains are concerned. The trip will set you back around 12,500 yen (a tad over $A145), which underlines the value of the JR Pass (7 days $335.00; 14 days $535.00)

The fastest version, the Nozomi, only stop at major centres like Tokyo, Nagoya and Osaka, hurtling between destinations at maximum speed, a now you see it, now you don't proposition when you're standing on the platform at one of the lesser stations.  Rail Pass holders don't get to ride on those, but that's understandable given the demand for seats. Below that there's a variety of fast and semi-fast versions, depending on the actual line you're taking, including the Hikari and Sakura (Tokaido, Sanyo, Kyushu), Hayate and Yamabiko (Tōhoku) that stop more often, but bypass smaller centres. Kitakami, with a population that's heading towards a hundred thousand, still isn't big enough to warrant being included on those services.

We were there in the wrong season, since the city's main claim to fame lies in ten thousand cherry trees planted along two kilometres beside the Kitakami River in Tenshochi Park. You get another sense of pecking orders in the sakura department since the fortnight or so in late April when the trees are in full bloom might attract a rating as one of the Tōhoku Region's three best cherry blossom spots (Hirosaki Castle and Kakunodate are the others) it's only regarded as one of the hundred best places nationwide to view cherry blossoms.

Other attractions (mentioned on the off chance you might be passing by) include summer festivals including the Michinoku Traditional Dance Festival, featuring Oni Kenbai, a traditional sword dance where the dancers dress as demons, and Michinoku Folklore Village, an open air museum containing thirty preserved farmhouses and other buildings from around the Tōhoku Region restored and arranged around forested walkways, ponds and fields. I'm guessing they're similar to what we saw in the Hida Folk Village in Takayama last time around, but they'd certainly be candidates on a less crowded itinerary, as would the Kitakami City Folklore Museum (included in the admission fee for the Folklore Village) with exhibits of Buddhist art, natural and  cultural history of the area.

The Kitakami River, coincidentally, being one of the region's most significant geographical features is the fourth largest river in Japan, draining an area of 10,150 square kilometres in the rural areas of Iwate and Miyagi Prefectures and, interestingly, has no dams from its mouth to the Shijūshida Dam north of Morioka, which results in a spectacular salmon run every autumn. We'll be referring to the river again when we talk Hiraizumi in tomorrow's Travelogue.

Having alighted from the train we made our way through the station and into the car park, where a quick conference saw Madam and I back inside buying the tickets for the next day's leg after they'd conferred about what it was going to be. Our Host’s a teacher, and has plenty to do, so we figured we'd get on a train somewhere along the route we followed on our day's ramblings and then leave her to get on with the rest of her weekend.

Extracting the tickets from an official in the ticket office who seemed to resent people carrying Japan Rail Passes in general, or Japanese-speaking people carrying JR Passes in particular. Took a couple of minutes more than you might expect, but we emerged, tickets in hand, to head off for the evening's accommodation, a reacquaintance with a certain Grog Dog, and an introduction to his canine confrere who we've nicknamed Red Cordial Dog since he seems to have fallen into a vat of hyperactivity inducer.

We didn't hang about too long, however, and we're soon off after a quick discussion of the available options. We got a sorry, house full at the first, a similar response at a second, but a phone call and a brisk walk through the eating and drinking area near the station got us a booth at the third, a vaguely Italian-themed place whose trademark dish was Buffalo Chicken.

That turned out to be bony chicken pieces with a barbecue sauce, so I'm not sure where the Buffalo bit originated. Still, it was cheap, there was plenty of it, and the Chilean red wine with a title that seemed to translate as The Devil's Castle was quite quaffable, though I exercised a modicum of restraint, the bill, which I managed to catch a glimpse of on the way out, ran to around ¥7200, which seemed pretty cheap for a variety of plates of nibbles, a fair sized pizza, a drink each for the girls and around half a dozen glasses of red for Yours Truly.

Back at base camp there was coffee, conversation and a couple of performing dogs to fill in the time until one felt inclined to crash.

Japan 2012: Kobe

Friday, 26 October 2012

Late nights often result in late mornings, but there was plenty on the agenda on what was, effectively, Admin and Organizing Day, so despite the presence of rather effective blackout curtains we were up reasonably early after what had been an uncharacteristic late night at the end of a longish and eventful day.

Still, we didn't get off to a rapid fire start, and it was after eight when we stepped into the elevator to head off to reacquaint Hughesy with the strange but very civilized custom of the breakfast Viking.

We were off, in other words, for a fairly substantial smorgasbord breakfast.

The day's agenda included converting the Rail Pass voucher purchased in Australia into an actual usable document, buying the tickets for the first couple of days' rail travel and anything else Madam thought might be booked out, chasing up some computer specific reading glasses with a focal length of 85 centimetres for Hughesy, transferring the clothing and other items Madam was going to need for the rail pass leg from her (blue) suitcase to mine (The Black Monster), and stashing everything else into the other one, which was going to be spending the next couple of weeks with The Mother.

That took things like neck cushions, airline blankets, changes of clothes for the return leg from Cairns to Bowen and other odds and ends out of the we're going to have to lug all this around the countryside for about three weeks equation.

Downstairs at the Viking I was tucking into a freshly made (as opposed to here's one we made a little earlier) omelette when I had a momentary vision of the inimitable Frockster and his likely reaction to the scene before me. There were, for a start, the regulation number of efficient and courteous hospitality workers, showing guests to seats, clearing tables, delivering tea and coffee and a couple of people who were obviously there to supervise, ensuring that everything was being done just right.

The guests were quietly going about their breakfasts, and the whole scene had a barely audible hum of activity. I figured you'd be able to hear The Frockster before he'd actually come through the door. He'd probably be demanding a table next to Hughesy and the Kobe Carnation and riffing off a variation of the theme that prevented us seeing Mount Fuji last time around.

Then, I figured, he'd sight the breakfast options on offer. Now, I'm not suggesting the man has steak and eggs for breakfast, or beef sausages, or some specific form of cereal, but the first thing he'd have noticed was an absolute lack of anything resembling Corn Flakes or Coco Pops.

The eye would have run along what would serve as a perfectly adequate continental breakfast buffet and noted the presence of the standard varieties of fruit juice and the varied selection of pastries, but would have pulled up short where you might expect to find the cereal. Instead he'd have sighted a variety of very Japanese breakfast options, none of which Hughesy is familiar with because of what lies on the other side of the open space.

There are two alcoves over that way, the first containing a variation on the old salad bar, with a nice array of mesclun leaves, a tray of cherry tomatoes, the assorted fruits and melons you'd expect to find at the breakfast table, a rather tasty variation on a peperonata (which probably explains the grated Parmesan cheese)  and a couple of salad dressings (which would tend to explain the croutons).

I mean, if you're going to have something approximating a Caesar salad for breakfast you're going to need croutons, n'est ce pas?

The other alcove delivered the variations on bacon and eggs, with a chef on hand to do you an omelette on the spot in a non-stick pan and another doing what looked like perfectly done fried eggs without any hint of frizzle around the edges.

I wasn't 100% sold on the look of the sausages but a fresh omelette, some bacon and a few other bits and pieces from the other alcove and a croissant or two made up a pretty solid first go at breakfast, and I ventured back for seconds from the salad bar and a bit more from the pastry department.

I was expecting a fair bit of hoofing and reckoned I'd need the carbohydrates.

Back upstairs we finished sorting things out and caught the 9:55 shuttle into Sannomiya (the same free service looks after the to and from business for the Okura and the Meriken Park Oriental) and arrived at the city's transport hub around five minutes later. After a brief diversion to investigate replacement options for watch batteries we headed off to a Japan Rail booking office for what was probably the most important part of the whole trip.

I've been referring to a voucher but the JR information booklet calls it an Exchange Order, and you need to have bought the little devil before you land in the country. You lob at the JR Office with your Exchange Order and your passport, fill out the form you get at the office and after a bit of peel, paste and laminate action you end up with the document that looks after the majority of your ticket purchases.

It won't get you on to the top level Shinkansen services, and there are a couple of other exemptions, and the Pass doesn't work on railway lines that aren't part of the JR Group, but it does cover some bus and ferry services.

Once you've accomplished the exchange the fun really begins, and given the nature of the beast and the likelihood you'll be sitting in a booking office with a queue of people looking for tickets, this is something best done over a couple of sessions rather than all in one fell swoop.

So you get the tickets you absolutely must have first. If there's no one waiting you go for the next most pressing ones. If it looks like you're holding up the queue you head off to do something else, and come back for another go, or find yourself another quiet office and proceed from there.

We were looking at a leg from Kobe to Kitakami with lunch in Tokyo the next day, so we obviously needed those tickets for a start. Having got that batch we set off for the optometrist for a pair of computer-specific reading glasses and stopped in at another JR booking office when we got to the right general area and filled in the ticketing for another couple of stages. Once the glasses bit had been dealt with we noted there was no one in that JR office, so we headed back in for another go. That might seem like an excessively cautious approach until you consider the process involved.

Bear in mind that this is when you know where you want to go and when you want to do so. Lob up and say you want to go from here to there on Thursday and it's probably a more lengthy process because there'll be a number of options. Madam's pre-trip research was very detailed, and we knew when we wanted to leave most places we were going, and we had the connections along the way nutted out already.

So you start by telling the person you're dealing with what you want and when you want to go. They fill out a requisition form, and when you've finished requesting they start processing the requests, which involved some fairly solid touch screen action and the odd point of clarification.

That process eventually delivers printed tickets, which are then checked against the requisition form and then checked with the purchaser to make sure you're getting exactly what you asked for. As stated, it's a slow process, and requests for the tickets you'll need to cover a fourteen day pass could occupy one particular operative for most of a morning.

That's a significant consideration when you've already been in there for ten minutes tying up one of three operators while a queue has formed, which is why you start with the most important ones, and gradually work your way through the rest.

In any case, with the most pressing ticket issues dealt with we needed to head back to the Okura, though there was the odd minor issue to be dealt with en route, and wandered back upstairs to collect the Blue suitcase just in time for Madam to miss the 1:55 shuttle, something that was largely made possible by somebody's refusal to accept Hughesy's logic that the hotel's over there, there's a roadway that runs right in front of the hotel and this ramp looks like it'll run down to the roadway.

As it turns out I was right on all accounts, but we wandered around the environs of the Kobe Maritime Museum, completing a circuit of the building and ended up gaining access to the hotel by the route I'd suggested was there all along.

In any case there was another bus twenty minutes later. Since I'd probably get in the way en route I remained in the Okura, with the result that three days' worth of Travelogue are more or les complete, up to date and ready for publication about two hours before we head off to rendezvous with one of Madam's old school friends and dinner.

With the writing up to date I decided to follow earlier suggestions and repair to the comfortable chairs in the lobby overlooking the Japanese garden behind the building and settle back into reading Neil Young. I'd been quite happy upstairs, tapping away listening to Toumani Diabate and Bert Jansch, which wasn't an option downstairs, but I thought I'd be spotted when Madam returned, it was her suggestion and I didn't want to be a philistine, did I?

As it turned out, of course, someone sailed through the lobby while I wasn't looking, failed to notice I was there, had a minor panic attack when the realization struck and then didn't exactly rush down to ensure everything was OK and I hadn't been abducted by strange females (or something).

We were due to rendezvous at seven and since Motomachi Station is equidistant by hoof from the Okura and Sannomiya we eschewed the shuttle bus and hoofed it around the edge of the Old Foreign Settlement and the Kobe take on Chinatown (Nanking-Nachi) before making the rendezvous slightly ahead of time and heading across the road from Motomachi Station to a rather good Korean eatery located in a basement at the bottom of a rather steep set of stairs.

There was nothing I could see to advertise the place, no prominent display board with the various menu options, no one spruiking the quality of what's on offer downstairs, but when you're that small (it's not the largest eating space you've ever seen and wouldn't hold much more than thirty diners) and that good you probably don't need the shill. Mind you, there probably was some form of signage outside that I failed to notice...

Dinner came in a variety of small serves, covering a variety of styles, some steamed chicken with kimchi that I wasn't expected to like, but did, barbecued beef, a seafood omelette and there were enough of them to cover the middle of a smallish table. With help yourself bowls and such in front of each diner as the two old school friends chatted away and the dishes kept coming I did my best to clear space in the middle of the table where everyone could reach things more easily.

One of the things I wasn't particularly eager to reach was the one that arrived with an I'll tell you what it is later which is the proverbial dead set give away in the probably oh yuck department. Whatever it was turned out to be chewy, not particularly interesting, and not much to my taste. Subsequent inquiries as to the identity received a single word response.

Guts.

There was a bed of noodles as well, which was more to my liking, and I pecked at it intermittently. Interestingly, no one else seemed particularly concerned to finish it off. Any suggestion to this effect will undoubtedly be met with an immediate denial, but I suspect there's a bit of the old let's see what the foreigner reckons about this one operating here, much like the two exposures to the surprisingly crunchy jellyfish last time around...

There wasn't any hint of a wine list, but Korean goes better with beer anyway, so I managed to knock over (figuratively, of course) several pitchers while we made our way through the platters.

It wasn't all that late when we called stumps and wandered back through Motomachi, guided by the old school friend, who'd parked very close to the Okura. We'd headed in via the Cape, with Madam suggesting the deals they're offering at the Okura and the Meriken Park Oriental were related to a slightly inconvenient location compared to the competition, but if you know where you're going and you're willing to walk, Motomachi is only a hop, skip and a jump from the Okura.

Across the road at the zebra crossing, through the car park and over the pedestrian bridge and you're a bit over a stone's throw from Motomachi, and with shuttle buses to Sannomiya for most of the day and well into the evening isolation is a relative thing.

Still, if they're going to offer deals like the one we were enjoying we'd be mugs to knock them back.

We'd picked up the rather impressive deal (two nights with full Viking breakfast for the special rate of ¥23000, remarkably good value when you work on Madam's easy conversion rate of ¥100 to the Aussie Dollar, and still pretty good value when you do the sums at the actual conversion rate opting on the day concerned. By comparison, I'm looking at a base rate of $229 per night as the base rate for my preferred accommodation option when I head off to catch Elvis Costello in concert in Sydney early next year.

Back at the Okura we finished most of the preparations for Travel Day One and clambered into the cot just after eleven, looking forward to whatever the morrow might bring.

Japan 2012: Cairns > Kansai International > Kobe

Thursday, 25 October 2012

Getting a good night's sleep before a major excursion isn't as easy as you might think, and I was awake, if the old memory serves me well at one-thirty and three before I emerged from a dream involving High School acquaintances, degenerate cricketers and an Elvis Costello concert around five-thirty.

At least I slept better than Madam, who ascribed an inability to get a good night's sleep to a combination of factors you can probably figure out without actually being told. Given the number of things that could go wrong over the next three weeks you'll be running over the possibilities, and that sort of thing isn't exactly conducive to deep and undisturbed slumber.

In any case, once I was awake I was back on the Travelogue and had the prelude largely knocked over before the pre-breakfast shower. There had been some consideration of a walk to find a breakfast option away from the hotel but intermittent drizzle put paid to that theory and we headed downstairs for a Spanish omelette (Hughesy) and a bowl of fruit (Madam) before we completed the packing and the regulation reshuffle of bits and pieces.

The Ukulele Lady had kindly offered to drop us at the Airport (she was working somewhere over in that direction so it was more or less on her way) and we were downstairs around half an hour before the time she'd indicated on the off chance she might be running early. We didn't want to be keeping anyone waiting, did we?

The check in and departing the country procedures ran smoothly, producing a state of illusory well-being that was severely disrupted by an announcement around half an hour before we were scheduled to begin boarding.

Technical issues, they said, were going to delay boarding (and, subsequently, departure) by an hour and while I wasn't happy about the delay I'd rather they found things that were likely to go wrong before takeoff. In any case, with things up to date almost right on the originally scheduled boarding time it was a case of a bit of thumb-twiddling with the iPad battery around 83% and the iPod taking over the workload.

There was, however, one major departure from revealed form this time around.

Faced with the prospect of an early morning arrival back in Cairns Madam thought it might be worth investigating the cost involved and the extra benefits obtained in Business Class. The original motivation was more legroom and the chance of a better night's sleep, but an extra ten kilogram luggage allowance is a significant factor for someone who'll be looking to bring a quantity of delicacies and other odds and ends she can't buy in Australia back with her.

We were, by the way, entitled to sixty kilograms of luggage on the way over, so the fact that the scales registered thirty-five in Cairns probably means someone's credit card will be reeling by the time we make our way back.

I'd heard rumors of better quality food and drink in Business Class as well. Not that I was expecting anything spectacular in the Jetstar version thereof, but you never know, do you?

As it turned out, when the boarding call came around an hour late we were the first through the Business queue and had plenty of time to acquaint ourselves with the extras, which started with the zipper bag of goodies and the blanket to keep you warm en route. The offer of a glass of bubbles to start off before we started moving was a nice start, particularly when the glass of bubbles I started lunch with seemed awfully familiar.

Fine, but there was better to come when the menu arrived, along with the accompanying wine list.

The bean curd appetizer, with marinated Japanese leek and dressing didn't quite sound like my scene, but the chance of a glass of Jansz Premium Non-Vintage Rose bubbles with it sounded like a good way to take the edge off the tofu as far as Hughesy was concerned.

Given the rest of the lineup the Tinpot Hut 2011 Sauvignon Blanc is probably a classy drop, but take a look at what followed it on the list. Stella Bella 2009 Chardonnay, Innocent Bystander 2010 Syrah and Cape Mentelle Cabernet Merlot? Count me in.

So the entree, a choice of Chicken rikyu-yaki or Beef ginger teriyaki for the main and a chance of a bit of cheese for afters, along with very decent wine? No problems.

As it turned out, of course, airline catering is airline catering, and the food was about what you'd expect under the circumstances, but the glass of Jansz Sparkling Rose seemed suspiciously similar to something I'd tried not that long before.

Madam had gone for the Stella Bella Chardonnay, and ended up with a glass of seriously good new style Oz chardy, which was impressive, and when the flight attendant delivered a glass of Innocent Bystander Syrah I wasn't quite in seventh heaven, but I was a very happy camper.

If we'd been sitting further back we'd have been looking at a choice of an SSB or a Shiraz from some offshoot of the McGuigan dynasty, but here we were with a choice of wines you'd expect to be looking to pay around the $10/glass in a restaurant. On that basis, Business Class has got me.

The point behind all this is that on your average budget airline Economy starts with a price and you start adding on the extras, starting with minor details like luggage, meals, drinks and blankets. I'd noted the Economy wine options had kicked in at $7/airline serve bottle. The Business glasses were slightly smaller than that, but you'd have been looking at $14 for the alcoholic equivalent of what arrived gratis on Business.

On the other hand you can start by looking at the business price and start counting back the things that'd cost you. Somewhere around $20 worth of wine by the glass is a bonus on top of the extra leg room, the increased baggage allowance and the fact that down the back you're paying for the meal.

There's still a differential, but if you look at it that way it diminishes rather substantially. Of course, it helps to have picked up the seats on sale, but every little bit helps...

With lunch out of the way a predictable torpor descended over the area as we settled in for the long haul without much to look forward to in the way on scenery et cetera. I'd noted green jungle below us during lunch, and guessed we were over the Owen Stanley Range. There was a highly distinctive river system that brought the name Markham to mind, something that needed to be confirmed, and a recent check on Google Earth and the National Geographic Atlas app failed to deliver a definitive answer, but for the next couple of hours it was a case of a semi-dose with something quietish on the iPod.

Madam took advantage of the proffered iPad to watch Madagascar 3, which filled in the time rather nicely, and in terms of battery usage I'd have been better off doing something similar. As the snob in me sniffly dismissed the audio, visual and reading options available on their iPad I tapped away on mine, running down a battery that was seriously depleted by continuing to read the Neil Young autobiography.

They roused us with just under two hours to go, and I used the opportunity to sample a bit of the Cape Mentelle Cabernet Merlot, declining suggestions of more solid sustenance, which were of the noodle in a cup or standard packaged snack persuasion, looking forward to the chance to watch the passing light show once we made landfall.

Last time that had been somewhere around Kyushu or the southern end of Shikoku and there had been a run along the coast with  the Seto Inland Sea visible, but we were following a different flight path this time around, and the lack of precise geographic awareness in the darkness threw me big time.

Looking at it now in the cool clear light of morning reality I can see (with the admitted aid of the National Geographic Atlas app) that we must have made landfall around the eastern end of Shikoku, probably around Tokushima, which I managed to confuse with the Kobe-Osaka conurbation around the time the final landing instructions came over the P.A. System.

They're leaving that remarkably late, I thought, under the mistaken impression we were on our final approach. In reality we were still somewhere around two to three thousand metres up and the lights on my left that would have represented a fairly large urban and industrial centre that looked reasonably close must have been an extensive conurbation that was probably twenty kilometres away.

Still, even if I didn't know where we were the lights gave something to occupy the attention once we'd been told to turn off all electronic devices.

Once we'd landed there was a lengthy around the terminal building before we reached the designated air bridge, where another of the benefits of business came into play.

I'd carefully stashed everything I didn't need except for the iPad and whatever I could fit in my pockets in the back pack, which had been stowed in the overhead locker, so once the seat belt sign went off and Madam moved into the aisle retrieving it was easy, and when the doors opened we were in among the first to disembark, which brought us to the first door on the shuttle that carries you towards the Arrivals processing area.

Moving swiftly, Madam and I had hit the lead of the pack through the temperature check and I arrived at the Foreigners section of Immigration (there was a bevy of her compatriots following Madam to the Japanese passport section) to find there wasn't a queue at all.

Straight in, hand over passport and immigration form, place the index fingers on the fingerprint machine, get the facial recognition bit done and I was through something that mightn't have actually taken an hour last time around but certainly felt like it.

In fact, that process needed less time than I took to type that last paragraph.

Things didn't go quite so smoothly in the Baggage Claim area, since the baggage handling process doesn't seem to be class conscious, but once we'd done the retrieval and whisked our way through Customs we were on the lookout for the shuttle bus and looking pretty good.

I'm not sure exactly what happened next, but having been directed to the relevant stop (#6 if I recall correctly) I joined the queue with the bags and Madam headed off to get the tickets from the relevant machine. We'd checked our bags, the bus had arrived, and the driver had refused to accept what we wanted to hand over. Instead of two tickets and two receipts from the machine we had one ticket, the requisite number of receipts, and a driver who wanted actuals rather than apparent evidence.

There was some flustered to-ing and fro-ing that ended up costing an extra ¥2000, but we ended up on the bus at 8:35, a far better result than we'd expected when we heard about flight delays back in Cairns.

Last time around I'd made a mental note to sit on the right hand side of the bus because it seemed the view of the city lights was better on that side, but this time, Madam's attempts to figure out what had gone wrong proved a significant distraction and I didn't see a lit-up Osaka Castle this time either.

The run along the freeway from the airport to downtown Kobe takes about an hour, and we were in plenty of time to catch the 9:50 shuttle to the Okura and Meriken Park Oriental Hotels. last time around we'd started at the Oriental, but this time it was the Okura for the first two nights.

Negotiations at reception proceeded with the regulation courtesies and rituals, and we were conducted to our room on the twenty-fifth floor by a bellhop who wasn't anywhere near as over the top as the Harry Houdini clone we'd encountered at the Oriental last time around.

Japan 2012: Bowen > Cairns

Wednesday, 24 November 2012

Bowen > Cairns

We've done the Bowen to Townsville bit so often this year that there's practically nothing that would surprise you other than a major spanner inserted forcefully into the works. For a brief moment it looked like that had happened when we got to the roundabout near Maidavale School and found the road we wanted to follow restricted to residential and roadworks traffic.

Earlier we'd methodically gone through the packing and checking process, much to the concern of three furry felines who mightn't have been totally sure what was going on but wanted admission to their daytime quarters in The Extension. The regular cause for concern came into play with a question about the fridge which could, in turn, have raised feline issues if they hadn't decided we were persona non grata for the time being.

Where they'd got to was uncertain, but he were on the road by eight fifteen with a scheduled rendezvous with the Ukulele Lady, who’d volunteered to babysit the chariot, around six, so we were able to take our time along the way.

Road closed at Maidavale might have prompted a retracing of the steps if we hadn't been using the iPad to find the shortcut through the back locks to bypass Ayr and Brandon a while back. It had been a good twenty years since I'd been that way, and our first attempt to track that way ended with great confusion that took us on a massive dogleg that came out at the servo near the Burdekin Bridge.

I'd done a bit of subsequent research, had nutted out the route in the opposite direction and, in the process, established one arm of the four that lead off the roundabout heads straight to Brandon, so that was where we found ourselves rejoining the Bruce Highway.

The run to and through Townsville was uneventful, a stop at the Frosty Mango north of Rollingstone provided a break and we were in Cardwell for lunch. The only major interest came when Madam decided she wanted a shot of the Cardwell Jetty, and was prevented from crossing the highway by a steady stream of traffic in both directions.

Smartarse Hughesy was on the verge of making a comment about heading back into the cafe for another round of crab sangas when the break in the flow came, but the fact that I hadn't actually made the remark didn't mean I escaped the consequences of the thought.

Madam had decided we were refueling there, and I sat in a hot car as the fuel dribbled into the tank seemingly drop by agonizing drop, and the payment process was equally glacial while the temperature in the parked vehicle rose. Still, I can afford to sweat off a bit of the old avoirdupois.

Back on the highway we ran in through Tully, Innisfail, Babinda and Gordonvale through threatening cloud cover, and had a minor hiccough when faced with a choice of routes into the Cairns CBD.  I chose the one I thought would have better traffic flow, but it was a case of varying mileages and dissenting opinions when we arrived at the destination just after four-fifteen.

Given the time you need to check in, shift gear, survey the surroundings, assess things in general and an hour and a half's rest we were off to put the car to bed just after six, returning about half an hour later after being dropped off by a Car Carer on her way to ukulele practice.

There was never much doubt about where we were headed for dinner, since the Cairns operation of the Roma Trattoria probably had Spaghetti alla Scoglio on the menu. They did, so that was it, the judge's opinion was final and there was no correspondence to be entered into.

There was, however a bit of discussion over a suitable wine to go with the heaping plate of seafood and spaghetti that was on its way. There were a good half dozen by the glass offerings I would have been happy to go for, but we ended up choosing an unwooded Chardonnay and a King Valley Pinot Grigio, which were both quite tasty though the Chardonnay finished about half a length ahead of the Grigio.

No prizes for guessing who ended up with the Grigio.

Before the arrival of the platter itself a helpful server delivered a pair of finger bowls and a pair of receptacles for shells and other detritus before a more practical colleague decided two of each was slightly over the top and halved the allocation. As it turned out we could definitely have used another finger bowl, but that was the only possible subject to gripe about.

Walking back to the Cairns Plaza Madam reckoned what we'd just had almost matched her first encounter with the dish in their Carlton operation. I'd had a risotto that time around, but we'd had another go on a return visit in Carlton and again four and a half years ago, and I was inclined to agree that this one was the best of the last three.

Back at base I wandered into the bar downstairs for a cleansing ale before the regulation tapping out of travelogues, with about two-thirds of the prelude completed by the time I decided to call it a night around nine-fifteen.

Japan 2012: Planning the Trip

You might think a lengthy diatribe about the factors you consider when planning a trip to Japan is a bit rich when it's coming from the bloke who doesn't do a whole lot of the actual planning, but I've been known to expound on all manner of subjects where there isn't a whole lot of experience to back things up, and, anyway, this is how the planning process  looks from where I'm sitting.

There have, of course, been numerous discussions about possibilities, so I do have something to base my assumptions on.

It mightn't be 100 per cent accurate, but it gives some sort of explanation about the itinerary that's tacked onto the end of this little ramble.

The first thing you need to realize when you're planning something like this three week jaunt around the Land of the Rising Sun is that you can't go everywhere and see everything. Take a place like Kyoto and you'd probably need a good fortnight to get beyond a fairly elementary scratching of the surface. Live there for a year and you'd probably find there are things you've somehow missed that you really shouldn't have.

And that's just Kyoto.

Second, it helps to have a theme, or possibly two. When we went in April 2008 we weren't sure how I'd go, so we had two.

One was the Sakura season, and the second was some of Japan's greatest hits. Actually, the two of those combine rather nicely because most of Japan's greatest hits are at their best in when the cherry blossoms are in bloom. Having done that one (and we could easily do another trip based on the same seasonal factor) the logical extension was to go to the coloured leaves time, and catch the trees in their multicolored autumnal glory.

The second theme you could throw in this time around is trains, based on the principle that we've got a couple of two week Japan Rail Passes, and there's no way we were going to limit ourselves to the Shinkansen.

The seasonal theme has the added advantage of delivering a direction to work within. In spring, the Sakura blossoms start in the warmer south and gradually make their way up to Hokkaido, while in autumn the process is reversed. Trees start to lose their leaves in the colder regions first, and the colouring gradually makes its way towards the Equator, not that it's ever going to get there...

So this time around we start in Kansai, make our way north and then loop back to the centre, ending up at the other end of the country.

Third, when you've got access to virtually unlimited rail travel, you're obviously going to travel, because you can. Without the rail pass, you might be inclined to spend a couple of days in Tokyo, but other considerations mean that on the last trip, and on the one I'm looking down the barrel at as I start typing this in a Cairns hotel room Tokyo is somewhere to stop for lunch on the way to somewhere else. Well, you can't go everywhere and see everything, can you?

See point #1 in that regard.

That Rail Pass travel factor brings in another element in the planning process, namely the presence of two basic arrival and departure points and the fact that there's no designated space for large pieces of luggage on a Shinkansen. There's a space behind the last seats in the carriage where you might be able to stash a large suitcase provided no one has snaffled it already, but you're pushing your luck if you try to take two.

That means if two of you arrive at Kansai or Narita with a suitcase each, you need somewhere to stash the smaller of the two when you've shifted what The Supervisor needs for the rail odyssey into Hughesy's port and shifted what's likely to be surplus to requirements for the next bit into t'other one, which then goes out to The Mother's place.

There are also possible cases where the big one gets deposited in a coin locker or cloak room and the back packs get used for a day or two.

So it's not just a case of pack up and go.

Anyway, the long and the short of it is that the lengthy rail leg bit needs to start and finish in Kansai or Tokyo, which is another reason for using the capital as a lunch stop if it doesn't represent a viable overnight stay on the Rail Pass route. It didn't last time, and it misses out again here. Maybe next time.

The next thing to consider is variety. You've got limited time, a fair bit of travelling to do and while you could, say, spend a week sitting on Shinkansen and zooming all over the place, there are interesting little local lines tucked away around the islands and one of the highlights last time around was the rail motor journey from Toyama on the west coast up to Takayama and back down to Nagoya.

Similarly, you could spend the whole of the train trip looking as Sakura, autumn leaves, temples or gardens but even when you combine leaves and gardens (natural fit, that feller) or leaves and temples you're going to need a break to spare yourself the risk of sensory overload.

Last time around the mix was old buildings and garden (Kanazawa), a heritage village and old buildings(Takayama), social call (Nagoya), trying to see Mount Fuji (Hakone), social call and temples (Kitakami) and back to base in Kansai where there was a significant temple and garden component.

And all of that was carried out against a backdrop of Sakura.

This time we've got a different mix, and next time will be different again.

On that variety of rail experiences it's worth remembering you can do a leg from Kagoshima at one end of the archipelago to Kansai in a comfortable day and we already know the same applies from somewhere around the north of Honshu (the main island) back to Kobe/Kansai. That means you can make a substantial shift in geographic location quickly, and you can travel comfortably from the north of Honshu to the southern end of Kyushu in two days. Given that consideration, a two week rail pass gives you time to get out into the back blocks.

So with this time around dedicated to colored leaves, we start at Kobe and head up to The Teacher in Kitakami. That's a day, with lunch in Tokyo and a meeting with The Translator. With the colored leaves (hopefully) in all their glory we do a bit of exploring around the north, ending up in the bottom of Hokkaido after a train trip through a tunnel under the Tsugaru Strait.

Another big jump brings us into the tsunami area, where Matsushima Bay is one of the must see views in the whole of the country, then it's up into the mountains for more leaves, onsen hot springs and a temple before another jump down to the Seto Inland Sea, a trip across a rail bridge to Shikoku and straight back to the main island, the temple island at Miyajima, Hiroshima and on to Kyushu, where castles, gardens and local rail lines come into the mix.

That will use up most of the fourteen day rail pass, so the final day delivers us to Kansai, where we spend the next six days doing the big city bit in Osaka, the temples and gardens bit in Kyoto, catch up with acquaintances and end up in Kobe to reunite the suitcases and wing our way back home.

Anyway, the itinerary:

Wednesday 24 October: Bowen > Cairns

Thursday 25 October: Cairns > Kansai > Kobe

Friday 26 October: Kobe

Saturday 27 October: Kobe > Kitakami

Sunday 28 October: Kitakami > Hiraizumi > Kakunodate

Monday 29 October: Kakunodate > Dakigaeri Valley > Kakunodate

Tuesday 30 October: Kakunodate > Aomori

Wednesday 31 October: Aomori > Hakodate

Thursday 1 November: Hakodate > Sendai > Matsushima > Sendai

Friday 2 November: Sendai > Unazuki Spring

Saturday 3 November: Unazuki Spring > Nagano

Sunday 4 November: Nagano > Okayama

Monday 5 November: Okayama > Seto Bridge > Okayama > Onoura

Tuesday 6 November: Onoura > Miyajima > Hiroshima

Wednesday 7 November: Hiroshima > Kumamoto > Kagoshima

Thursday 8 November: Kagoshima > Yoshimatsu > Hitoyoshi > Shinyashiro > Kagoshima

Friday 9 November: Kagoshima > Osaka

Saturday 10 November: Osaka

Sunday 11 November: Osaka

Monday 12 November: Osaka > Kyoto

Tuesday 13 November: Kyoto

Wednesday 14 November: Kyoto > Kobe

Thursday 15 November: Kobe > Cairns

Japan November 2012: The Introduction

From the time we returned from my first trip to Japan there was never any question about going back.

The only question was when.

Financial and other considerations ruled out 2009, the Indian Pacific trip cut in just before the preferred window next time around, and while I could have afforded to go twelve months ago there were issues with earthquakes and aftershocks that had knowledgeable people on the ground suggesting it wasn’t a good idea for Hughesy to be heading over in October 2011.

The Photographer went on her own that time, and the report she brought bak had me pencilling in a three week trip for October/November 2012.

And now that the trip is over there’s the small matter of writing up the Travelogue.

So, Dear Reader, feel free to read on...