JAPAN

THAT WAS ONE LONG TUNNEL!

This morning I started my trip to Matsushima. It took four separate trains and a total of eight hours to get there and so I had plenty of time to watch two batteries die down on the computer and to count tunnels. There were many many tunnels to count. Of course, I was waiting for THE BIG ONE, the longest underwater tunnel in the world, the one that connects Hokkaido to the rest of Japan. I had wanted to time my own personal endurance record so that I could then brag on the blog how I had survived the 20 minute, or two hour tunnel. But after a dozen times of looking at my watch, thinking THIS SURELY must be it, I gave up and stopped looking and so now I can only guess: it seemed like about four hours, but that is possibly the grossest of exaggerations because that particular train ride was only three hours long and it had many stops before and after the tunnel. Still, I have to say that my going-under-water-by-way-of-train phobia seems to be a thing of the past.

Long train rides are a time to think and eat. This time I was prepared. No more staring at a solitary cup of Twinkle Lady tea. I had a feast . The tea was accompanied by a spotted monster apple (that’s the way they all looked in the market: I spent more on that apple than on my earlier-in-the-week cup of Starbucks latte and that’s saying a lot; fruits are expensive in Japan) and by treats from the food halls of the department store (I couldn’t decide which of the three so I took all three; my decision would have been a lot easier had I realized that they were all a variation on a white roll with chestnut bits; no matter, their price together amounted to just about one half the cost of the apple).

But I have to say that I am starting to crave vegetables. Aside from the pickled ginger that always accompanies raw fish here and that one piece of pepper tempura yesterday, I haven’t seen any vegetables at the dinner table. This morning, therefore, I broke down and took from the breakfast buffet a small plate of limp broccoli, cauliflower and carrots. One has to take things when they are offered in life. [For the curious: I had this BEFORE my cup of coffee and cereal; I pretended that I was still eating last night’s dinner before ultimately switching to breakfast.]


NEW DISCOVERIES AND MORE QUESTIONS

In trying to decide where to go during the Golden Week, I thought about selecting places of great natural beauty. I’ll be working in cities while I am here, but for my time off, I wanted scenic splendor. I chose two destinations. The first, Matsushima, is labeled as one of the three great natural sights of Japan (more on the second destination tomorrow). I learned a poem today by a famous seventeenth century Japanese writer. It goes like this:

”Matsushima, ah! Matsushima! Matsushima!” He definitely was smitten with the place.

It was evening by the time the last of my series of trains pulled in to the Matsushima-Kaigan station and so I saw little of the scenery tonight. From the station, a bus took me to the hotel Taikanoso, the place where I’ll be spending the next two nights.

I honestly do not remember how I found Taikanoso. I believe I was directed to it by some random blog I Googled my way to. I know this place does not have a website and it is not listed in any book on Japan. And so, apart from the price per night, I cannot say that I arrived informed about my new surroundings.

Driving up, I could tell that it fancies itself to be a bit of a ‘resort.’ You can just tell: there are ‘grounds.’ People move slowly, there is piped music in all public spaces, it has the feel of relaxation and leisure. Needless to say, I am the only non-Japanese person in the entire sprawling place, though occasional attempts at translation (as in the room information sheet) imply that English speaking people are expected to make their way here.


As a foreigner, I was, as usual, treated well by the Reception. My request for a ‘pleasant view’ got me the top floor room (the place is five stories high), and from the window I could see why the scenery merits top billing. Even at dusk, it was inspiring (see photo of view from room).

I am too removed from the town to search for eating spots and so tonight I am forced to eat here. If I sound reluctant, it is because the set price for dinner is almost as high as the price of the room and breakfast. The accommodation is cheap, the meal is not.






I wondered if I was expected to dress up. I hadn’t seen anything particularly excessive in this regard in the public rooms and so I decided not to. Why do I mention this? Well, clothes issues became a shocking part of my discovery. As I entered the huge dining hall, I saw that it was filled with people of assorted ages, most of whom were wearing identical cotton bathrobes (see photo)! So here I am, in this reasonably elegant dining hall, where a man in a tux is playing Chopin on the piano, cooks are heaping food onto a buffet table, and people are walking around in blue and white robes and identical brown slippers.

My guess is that there are public baths somewhere on the premises and that it is acceptable and even expected to go from bath to dinner. Of course I want to try this too, but think of the gaffs I am likely to make along the way: do I wear a bathing suit? What does one wear (if anything) under the robe? It’s not as if I can ask. And what if it becomes undone? Something awkward is likely to happen. Or, what if one only does this on Greenery Day, so that tomorrow I’ll show up to dinner in a robe and everyone will be wearing street clothes?

The dinner itself was quite good. I could pick and choose and so I avoided the western specialties (the desk clerk had said that they served Japanese and French food; the spaghetti, meat and mashed potatoes were, I presume, the ‘French’ part) and concentrated on the sushi, the raw fish, the crab – yes, the crab legs are with me again—the scallops, braised greens and the fruit (pictured at the very bottom of the post) for dessert.



[I cannot resist posting pictures of some of the signs in front of dishes. In an attempt to appear international, I see someone was given the task of coming forth with translations.]

And here’s an interesting gimmick: I asked for a beer with the meal and was told that it cost 800 Yen extra (that would be around $7). I hesitated. One mug of beer, $7? A Wisconsinite would cringe. But then I was shown a sign that said “3 alcoholic beverages for 1000 Y.” The dining hall attendant said I could thus get three beers for 1000 Y. I could also get three whiskeys or three glasses of wine. The Pole in me wanted to go the whiskey route because, of course, insofar as there’s a bargain in this pricing strategy, it is in the whiskey. Sanity prevailed and I hate whiskey anyway, so I stayed with the beer. A plastic sign was placed on my table with a number scrawled on it announcing to the wait-staff (and the world) on which beer I was at the moment. I noticed people around me were on number three while I was still nursing number two. I never could get through number three, but still, how could one not order in this way?


In the course of the meal, the music venue changed and we went from my beloved Chopin to a Japanese band singing American pop. To give you an idea, I heard music of the Carpenters and a lot of Elvis. The room came alive for this part. People listened, tapped their brown-slippered feet and applauded enthusiastically after each number.

All well and good, but I could not take my eyes off the bathrobes.

Back in my room, I noticed that by opening the window (it was awfully musty on arrival) I let in a nice army of monster bugs and so the rest of the evening is spent hunting for what look like drunken dragon flies (they fly low, sway a lot and move at the speed of 1 meter per minute).