Rat Infested Marmalade

 On the menu for today, two famous venues that I sincerely believe could be prime Devil’s Toenail candidates.

Amanohashidate (Bridge to Heaven)

Truth be told, I only went here because it was in Will Ferguson’s “Riding With The Buddha”. Bum steer, Will, but not your fault.

Billed (seriously) as one of Japan’s “top three views” which has inspired poets and painters alike, this is basically a 3 km sandbar with a bunch of pine trees. Don’t believe me?

And that’s all folks.

Oh no, wait. I forgot the $10 five minute chairlift ride, which takes you to a viewpoint/amusement park. Silly me.

Unfortunately, you can’t see the extensive safety devices utilized - because there are none.

“Safety bars or seat belts? Those are for pussies. We told you not to swing or jump, didn’t we?”

Kinosaki Onsen

Advertised as “Kansai’s signature onsen resort”, this is a small town (literally two streets) that has been transformed into the the Japanese version of the Sunset Strip. Every single building - and no, I’m not exaggerating - has a ground floor store or restaurant or cafe and the street is crawling with entitled assholes clomping from onsen to onsen in the yukatas and wooden clogs from their $700 a night ryokan and Japanese just here for the craic (as our Irish friends would say).

I can’t tell you how many blogs I read or YouTube videos I watched that raved endlessly about how “authentic” and “romantic” it was. I can only assume they give you a pair of rose coloured glasses when you check into your luxury suite.

Well, I was here, so what the fuck. I girded my loins and headed for Gosho-no-you, Kinosaki’s most famous bathhouse, with an entrance designed to look like the Kyoto Imperial Palace (of course). I’m not going to go into the extensive and rigid rituals involved in using an onsen. Thinking ahead, I’d already had a trial run at my last hotel, lest I humiliate myself in front of a huge, knowledgeable crowd. Take my word for it, it involves a number of steps that must be followed in a specific sequence. I got anxious just thinking about it. So off came the shoes, and I casually strolled into the changing room, only to have a somewhat obese older gentleman collapse on the floor at my feet. You couldn’t make this shit up. Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed, although I have to admit thinking, “Uh-huh. I bet this happens ALL THE TIME.” They just put a towel over him while he lay there for a while and everybody simply walked around or over him. Eventually he got up and, I assume, was none the worse for wear. Jesus! 

“How was your day, dear?”

“Oh fine. I passed out at the onsen again.”

“That’s nice. Dinner’s almost ready.”

On to the washing room, where the rule seems to be you scrub until you’re one small step away from bleeding, no matter how long it takes, and only then can you move to the hot tub with all the other dudes. I will say that I absolutely adore the temperature of the water. The 104 degree limit in our hot tubs would be a sick joke here. No matter how long you stay immersed, the water NEVER feels anything but scalding and when I eventually emerge I always check to see I haven’t left an entire body suit of skin behind. Heaven, pure Heaven. I have to say the bathing area was okay - a big outdoor, rock-lined pool with water cascading down the hillside. The ambience is somewhat marred for me, unfortunately, when you fill said pool with 20 guys. Okay, I’m sorry, but honestly, what was God or Mother Nature or whoever thinking when they designed the male of the species?

“Yeah, I think we got the basic proportions down pretty well. Anything else you’d like to add?”

“Yeah. Let’s put a fat worm and two ding dongs in front between his legs.”

“What the hell. It’s been a long day & I could use a laugh. Go ahead.”

I’m not going to say any more about it, except that I see it as just another cross females have to bear. My apologies.

I could have done another 6 onsens if I had the stomach for it, but, for me, one was plenty. 

Don’t these pictures just scream charming, romantic and authentic?

My Favourite Onsen

And what  better way to end a charming, authentic day than a stay in a charming, authentic bargain-basement ryokan? Say no more.

What you see is what you get.

Teddy faithfully awaits my return.

My verdict? Unsurprisingly, to anyone who knows me, it’s a hard pass. I just don’t get it. What’s the appeal? My pillow was like a bean bag, I felt like I was literally sleeping on the floor, it’s fucking cold and I don’t like sitting on the ground to eat - or do anything else for that matter. Maybe for $700 a night it’s completely different, but based on what I’ve seen, the basics are the basics. So no thanks. I’ll take that gauche Western room every time.

Japanese Fun Fact

Let’s talk kitsch. As fashionable, modern and stylish as the Japanese are, they also seem to have a fascination with what I’ll call gaudy ornamentation. It’s like a national version of those statues and knick-knacks that filled every shelf in your grandma’s house. At first I thought all these stores were aimed exclusively at tourists, but now, having walked past and peered into plenty of homes in my wandering, I’m starting to have my doubts. Allow me to demonstrate.

The jury’s still out, but I have my suspicions. It’s quite possible they have all sorts of social, religious or other significance. As I said, they’ve turned up in windows, front yards and hotel lobbies enough that you have to consider the tourist shtick is simply a sideline. We see.