Call Any Vegetable

 When I got up this morning and looked out my window to see that it had snowed all night AGAIN, was I despondent or depressed? Hell no.

“Fuck you!” I shouted out the open window. “We’re heading south. You won’t have Teddy and I to push around anymore. Sayonara suckers!”

What I failed to take into account, due in part to geographical ignorance, and in larger part to sheer stupidity, was that:

1. We were also going from the West back towards the East so guess what?

2. The Japanese Alps are fucking everywhere. 

And we all know the ending to this story, don’t we?

The double whammy

Okay, but is that REALLY something you needed to worry about?

Nah. Just being paranoid.

However, don’t cry for me Argentina. This story has a happy ending, the proverbial pot of gold at the end of the rainbow - Eiheiji.

“The Temple of Eternal Peace” is one of Soto Zen’s two head temples. The complex was started in 1244 when Dogen Zenji and his followers trekked into the mountains and were given help by the neighborhood samurai. I believe you can actually stay here if you’re a disciple, but I’ll never know, for obvious reasons. I suppose I could try to describe what all the various buildings and rooms are, but that would be pointless really. Suffice to say it’s a magical place, made even more so by the hum of the monks chanting and shuffling through the buildings while various gongs and cymbals reverberate through the halls. THIS should be  a World Heritage Site.

That’s a hard act to follow, and to be perfectly honest, the rest of the day was Boresville - a 4 hour drive during which I didn’t have a fucking clue where I was, thanks to Google Maps, until I realized I was actually driving through Kyoto, which was quite a surprise to me. I had originally tried to book a B&B supposedly in the Great Outdoors, but that fell through thanks to RBCs ridiculous security protocols (“I’m sorry sir, there’s nothing we can do about that”). I thought I’d booked someplace in the same general vicinity, but it would seem my navigational skills once again failed to rise to the challenge. Here’s the view from my hotel window:

Yep, that’s a giant sports stadium and two hotels. Close enough. Actually, I don’t really care, since my only plan is to relax in my room, grab a bite and then hit the road again tomorrow for “The Bridge To Heaven” and Kinosaki Onsen, a town literally devoted to the Japanese version of the hot tub. Wish me luck.

Ah! The food! Right. The nice desk lady gave me directions to a “good” restaurant, which ended up being closed. However, I noticed a little hole-in-the-wall up a set of stairs so up I went. Serendipity calls. Turns out it WAS a hole-in-the-wall - one tiny room with two tables and a bar, empty except for a pimply kid wearing an apron.

“Oh-oh!” I thought, but he was staring right at me with a hopeful look on his face, so I had no choice.  Turns out Takeshi and I had a wonderful evening - unfortunately NOT for the food. We had a half hour chat entirely on Google Translate while I drank my biru. Then he went to, as he put it, “make the meal”, only to resume as soon as I had my food. Yes, the food.

This is yakatori, made with what he charmingly called “chicken parts”. Only too true. I’m pretty sure the two on the left were solid fat and I have no idea how I managed to eat them without gagging and throwing up.

Thank God these were some sort of vegetable he proudly told me he grew himself. It looked like a giant corn cob, but obviously wasn’t. I still have no idea what it is, but it was deep fried so who cares.

At the end of the evening he thanked me profusely, wished me well and gave me his card.

I think I would have gone back there if I had stayed another night. I just wouldn’t order the chicken.

Japanese Fun Fact

Let’s talk hotels-specifically mid-range hotels, which means around $100 a night. Frankly, they’re good - really good - but very different in some interesting ways. For one thing, they’re VERY big on “amenities” here. So pretty much every room I’ve been in has a kettle (with tea & coffee) and a fridge. And the hotel itself always has a microwave, ice machine and more vending machines than you can shake a stick at. Plus they frequently have what’s called a “public bath” which is like a mini-onsen. AND you always get slippers and usually pyjamas.

When was the last time you saw one of these in a hotel, or anywhere for that matter?

But - and you knew there’d be a but - there is one thing that’s a bit lacking - space. Which isn’t that big a deal until you get to this point:

I mean look at this thing. I’ve seen plenty of closets that would put this to shame. Can’t win ‘em all.