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Asakusa Station: A Morning at the Butcher's
Stirring out of the sweetest 45-minute slumber ever had me telling the Chinaman that "I didn't wanna get up" and that the Capsule was surprisingly comfortable, like ABSOLUTELY comfortable. He quickly brushed it off as either because the last few nights at the hostel were much worse or that I was absolutely exhausted from my escapades the night before that anything I slept on would probably be heavenly to my weary corpse. But I really loved the (short) rest and would gladly opt to stay in Capsule hotels for future budget visits to Japan.
He decided to head down to the station first to meet up with Zombie Bob while giving me more time to drag myself out of space and prep for our upcoming pilgrimage to Nikko. Fatigue had me too tired to do any form of styling that day, so I decided to rock the Red-neck trucker cap and jacket look instead (complete with unshaven stubs), which contrary to popular fashion belief, turned out much better than I had anticipated.
Linking up with Zombie Bob and the Chinaman had us settling some luggage issues before boarding our 9 a.m. train. Due to my debacle the night before, I had to pay an extra 400 yen to open my locker just to see my huge luggage for 3 seconds before paying another 400 yen to lock it up for another day. The Chinaman and Zombie Bob were a lot less practical as they opted to lug their HUGE suitcases to Nikko, proving to be a hassle on the 6-carriage train.
In fact, it was this very same hassle that had two scurrying Japanese Obaasans asking us to move the huge luggage off the chair so that they could rest their aged butts. And in typical Japanese hospitality, the two Obaasans struck conversations with us in simple English and Japanese, while showing signs of their grand-maternal instincts by touching our forearms while they conversed with us. Well, at least they offered delicious rice crackers to the Chinaman and I in exchange for the fresh young meat they savoured.
I recollected my escapades of the night before to the Chinaman, only have his shake his head in disbelief again and again. The rest of the 2.5 hour train-ride had me out stone cold (not to mention I could have sworn I was in deep sleep with my mouth sending out an open invitation to the flies), making me miss out totally on whatever countryside scenery there was to be seen.
A sharp tap on the shoulder had me stirring out of my deep slumber as I stumbled my way out of the train onto the platform. When we turned around, we realised why the China-gal who coordinated our trip to Nikko at the agency the day before warned us solemnly to stay in the first 2 carriages of the train. Apparently, the train carriages break off at different stations and only the first 2 carriages actually end up going all the way to Nikko. A seamless linking and breaking system that we didn't even notice till we alighted.Exiting the station, we were greeted by a quaint country-side town. A roundabout in front of the station probably marked the centre of the town, littered with souvenir and sundry shops surrounding it, and a bus stop at the heart of the roundabout. Nikko was a small country side
town, relatively untouched by modernisation, leaving its scenic backdrops preserved for the touristic revenue that sustained the town. It was probably the kinda town in which everyone knew everyone else, everyone played a role in the town's welfare as a whole; the simple communal life, the anti-thesis of the individualism-driven motivations of the rat-race society in bigger cities.The order of the day had us navigating towards our accommodation as our first priority, to drop the excess baggage. A 10-minute bus ride had us alighting one stop too late (or was it too early), and we had to ask the amiable grandmother tending a corner shop for directions to our inn. A little navigation through the quiet streets with the two fools dragging their huge suitcases took us to the entrance of our Ryokan (Traditional Japanese Inn).
The silhouette of an aged-man loomed outside the entrance of the Ryokan, staring ahead at a distance. Seeing us approach from a distance, the well-dressed man approached us asking "Rooi-san?" Clean-shaven and hair neatly slicked back, the man had the uncanny air of a butler. Letting us know that we couldn't check in our rooms just yet, due to hotel policy, the Butler (which was probably the hotel owner in actual fact) had us leave our luggage at the counter as the smiley-faced receptionist (probably his wife) did the necessary paper work to check us in.In traditional Japanese hospitality befitting the decor of the interior of the building, the Butler showed us around the small but cosy hotel area, pointing out the bath, room and shop areas (which was sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of the lobby), before letting us know that they were expecting a group of school children for the night from an excursion. Lucky Jap kids seemed to be a lot more fortunate than the miserable local kids, I remember back in my day, a pathetic trip to the zoo or the museum was already considered a big hoo-ha, and here, they get out-of-town experiences. Maybe that's why our kids grow up to be such miserable people.
Going the extra service-mile, the Butler then asked us where we were headed, and offered to give us a lift back to the town central to catch the necessary bus to start our pilgrimage of the sights Nikko had to offer. Small town buses had intervals of eternity between each bus, so much so that the Tripartite had more than enough time to grab a sandwich-lunch from the nearby 7-11 and finish it before the bus even arrived.
A 45-minute scenic bus ride up the winding hills took us past the rather famous Turtle Inn, to a crossroad at a hilltop. The Tripartite unanimously agreed on making the Kegon Waterfall our first stop of the pilgrimage.
The Coke Product Placement on this Blog is Shameless
We crept up on to the ledge of the platform, and through the bushes, we spotted a glimpse of the glory that awaited us. The mouth of the Kegon Waterfall, with its beautiful blue waters cascading downwards into an unseen abyss. The greenery surrounding it only proved to make the sight more astounding than it already was, making picture perfect shots.
Postcard Picture Perfect
Creeping up to the viewing platform gave us a full frontal of the beauty before our eyes. The svelte stream of blue water slipping through the rocks and sliding down a stretch of seeming eternity. Crashing roars of the waters heard coming from the bottom of the fall proved to be a majestic, yet soothing sound. There is something about the sound of water that soothes the soul, and the Japanese have harnessed this fact to achieve a state of Zen. And as far as Zen was concerned, the sights and sounds of the locale provided a full-out outer-body Zen-like ascension into Nirvana all over again.
And they said that I couldn't pull off the Cap lookThe bird's eye view from the top of the platform only painted the bottom of the waterfall as a blurry image of rocks. The quest for achieving the highest level of Zen possible meant that I had to find the most rupturing angle in which to view the waterfall, and that justified a 500-yen trip down a 100m lift to the bottom of the waterfall to get a different perspective. The lift ride proved to be slightly unsettling, being squeezed between an entourage of noisy Japanese school kids and a solemnly quiet Zombie Bob.
The scenery that greeted us at the bottom of the waterfall was straight out an a Samurai anime / flick. The impact of the cascading water breaking upon the multiple rock layers, dividing at each layer. The water continued to stream down a series of rapids before successively following down another 2 or 3 sub-falls. The inner samurai within me painted a perfect spot under the waters to meditate in order to obtain my inner peace. But the cruelty of reality had me forsaking the idea and attempting to find some solace in some Chocolate-coated strawberries instead.
The Closest I get to Becoming a Meditating Samurai
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Touted as having amazing spring time scenery from the brochure given to us, the Tripartite then decided to retrace our steps to the crossroads to grab a slice of lakeside scenery. While not as breathtaking as depicted in the (probably heavily photoshopped) touristic promotion photos in the brochure, Lake Chuzenji still managed to ooze a serene sense of calm and tranquility.
Makes me feel like I could Walk on Water
I staggered to the lakeside platform to strike one of my trademark poses against the scenic backdrop. My China-camera-man was still at parodying the "Se.. No.. Posu" habit that the locals displayed, when I felt something snatch at the plastic bag with the chocolate-coated strawberries I had placed behind me to obscure it from the camera. Thinking it was some Jap kid's idea of mischief, I turned around slowly, only to see a bastard baby monkey run by, a momma monkey holding MY plastic bag, and a pappa monkey that looked me in the eye and gave me a scornful growl which sounded a lot like "Fuck Off" to me.
Caught in the ActBut the reality of evolution-superiority quickly showed as after the band of robbers so effectively pulled off an organized grand theft from the Count, they reverted back to their primal selfishness as the momma monkey went on to use all available limbs to open the box of chocs and savoured it. She must have thought it was damn heavenly as she repeatedly used force to deny her bastard-young of the goodies, slapping him in the head a few times while pushing him away, all this while the bastard-father stood watch. In the end, the little bastard was only left licking away at the wrapper.
I can see the Guilt in their EyesThe irony of the entire event had to lie in the fact that the official mascots of Nikko were actually 3 monkeys (of which I bought a little trinket of), and my actual encounter gave that little trinket and the mascots a whole new dimension of personalized meaning to me.
Capturing the Essence of a Classic-------------------------------------------------------------------
Nikko Shrines: Divide and Conquer
Another 45-minute journey down the winding roads was accented with the bus driver stopping at scenic spots at the top of the hill for us to catch scenic shots of the landscape below. I guess even the bus drivers take their jobs seriously over there.
A look down Mother Nature's Cleavage
Arrival back at the town centre had us heading for the formation of traditional Japanese shrines with a race against the clock. With only approximately an hour plus to spare, we had to divide our time amongst 5 shrines. And division was the rule of the day, as the Tripartite divided to conquer the shrine cluster. Of the 5 shrines, I only had time to pay pilgrimage to 3 of them, including the Rinnoji Temple in which we started from. While the Chinaman decided to take a tour of the insides of the religious building, I made alternative plans.
I believe "Holy Shit" is the right word here
I made the furthest shrine, Taiyuin, my priority, as the brochure proudly announced it or something in it to be a national treasure. Besides housing great religious importance and traditional dressed priests and priestesses, the formation of shrines were also said to house the burial site of the legendary warlord, Ieyasu Tokugawa. However, it costs us an additional fee to pay our respects to the great warlord if we so wanted to do so, and the only respect the Tripartite had was for our thinning wallets, so none of us actually caught a glimpse of the tombstone.
One for the Road
The layout of each of the shrines was somewhat similar, at least for the two that I visited. Entering the shrine always led to a flight of stairs on the inside, the only difference being the orientation of the staircase. A climb up the flight of stairs took one into the inner sanctums of the shrine, in which you were required to remove your footwear in order to view the exhibits, being weapons, armour and other furniture that belong to the warlords of old. As the pillar of Shinto worship is towards the possessions of the (great) dead, I believe that these artifacts were made national treasures for this reason probably.
While I probably could hardly appreciate the religious value of the contents of the shrine, the thing that I had appreciation for was surely the Zen landscaping. Looking like an overgrown garden of well-pruned Bonsais, the white pebbles and stone lanterns added a finishing touch to the traditional Japanese landscape design.
Buried in the Beauty
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Tokanso Hotel: Living it Up at the Hotel California
Divide-and-Conquer proved its weakness at the end of our pilgrimage as I had a hard time linking up with the other parts of the Tripartite. I could have sworn that they went into one of the shrines but I didn't see them exit. Considering that the shrine was closed, I thought they had left and started to skirt the vicinity for them. Gradually, my skirting area expanded and before I knew it, I was walking on the outer fringes of the shrine formation, along the main road. About 2o-minutes in, I decided to make a U-turn and retrace my steps. Call it sixth sense, but it was not long after I did that I spotted the two of them at the opposite end of the road.
Reunited and realizing that we were at the same junction that the old granny who gave us directions earlier, a familiar right-left-right took us back to the Ryokan. With the room ready for check in, the Butler's wife proudly showed us the room that we each paid 8,800 yen ($114 SGD) for. The room was reminiscent of the one that we stayed at on Day 3, sans the beds, with a larger bathroom and a little tea table against sliding doors that led to a little garden. Our idea was to stay in a Ryokan in Nikko, as we figured that if any place deserved the traditonal Japanese accomodative experience, there was no other place better than a scenic haven like Nikko to experience it.
Considering that we had time to spare before dinner was to be served, the Tripartite decided to take our baths in the Onsen after a long day of travelling. After 12 days and mulitple Onsen baths, I FINALLY managed to find one that was empty enough for me to sneak a few shots of the bath proper. As we sat in our baths, looking at the little garden through the windows, it wasn't before long that we realised that perhaps someone standing in the garden could look through the same window at us in our full glory. Bearing that in mind, we chose a strategic well-hidden corner of the bath to loosen our bodies and minds.
The Kangsanagi Shogunate
A hearty meal was companied by hearty conversation and heartfelt laughter among the Tripartite (yes, even with Zombie Bob, who had proven to be more than tolerable over the course of the day). The end of the dinner marked a further justification to the extravagant price tag as another maid came in to do the cleaning up for the Shogun-worthy meal that we just had. She was visibly amused when we questioned her about the yellow lemon-scented fluid served in a wine glass, only to have her tell us that we was actually a type of lemon-wine.
The extraordinary service continued as they even had a man-maid specially come in to help us set our beds for the night on the tatami. While waiting for him to finish, we decided to take a little walk out of the room to browse through the make-shift souvenir shop at the lobby (while still dressed in our Yukatas.) The Butler wasn't lying when he said that they were expecting a school of children as a throng of them were running around the lobby area, with souvenirs flying off the shelves like hotcakes and the Butler and the wife grinning from ear-to-ear with each successive click of the cash register; tourism at its finest indeed. We knew better than to rush with excited school children for souvenirs, so we decided to wait till the morrow. The man-maid signalled to us to let us know that our beds were ready. There was probably no night life to be had in a place such as Nikko, but just as well, since we were all exhausted enough to turn in at a record 10.45 p.m. I, for one, wasted no time in entering the Japanese dreamland for the last time.
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