Nippon II - Kyoto & Osaka

Saying goodbye to Tokyo, Mike and I promptly fell asleep for the 3-or-so-hour train ride to Kyoto. I tried in vain to stay awake to watch the exotic countryside go by, but I was just too beat from the pre-dawn bird attack to do so. Also, the fact that the magnetic train was zooming at over 300km/hr made any decent sight out of the window too fleeting to be all that memorable anyway. One thing is for sure – if you’re 6-foot tall and weigh 200 pounds, you’re not going to have the most comfortable ride on public transit in Japan. (This reality sadly goes for Korea as well and, I fear, likely most of Asia).

Upon arriving in Kyoto, our first order of business was to locate some form of accommodation for that evening seeing as how our search on Couchsurfing had proven fruitless. Apparently Kyoto is one of those unsung tourist havens like Interlaken in Switzerland or (so I’m told) Koh Phangan in Thailand. As soon as you start doing even the slightest bit of research for a trip to the country or talk to others who have done it, Kyoto is one of those places that keeps popping up. You end up hearing that you just have to go there or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life and eventually end up hanging yourself in your garage because of the missed opportunity (or whatever the threat of the day is). Apparently the city is the home of some of the last authentic working Geishas in the country, served as the nation’s capital for a while, and is considered the birthplace of Japanese culture as it exists in its modern lexical incantation. As a result of this awesomeness and the fact that we were there for peak tourist season, it is understandable that we could not find any CS hosts. Instead, we went to the tourist bureau at the train station and asked what our options were for cheap accommodations.

With a bit a patience and a tonne of luck, we were able to snag a ballin’ hotel conveniently located in the Gion area of the city for around 8000 yen a night for the room (or around 45 Canadian bucks each). The accommodations were authentically Japanese, complete with sleeping mats instead of beds, sliding reed doors, courtesy yukatas, and those hilarious novelty toilets you’ve heard so much about. We really could not have asked for a better deal and we made good use of the water heater in the room for both our complimentary green tea and the copious amounts of sake we took back to our room. To ensure some true cultural fusion was attained, we also felt obliged to consume a bottle of good Scotch (surprisingly cheap!) and a few cigars over the course of our 3 nights there. Ah yes, vacation indeed.


Despite all the hype and the fact that the city actually is really awesome, I felt a little nonplussed by Kyoto overall. It is certainly a gorgeous place and is both culturally and aesthetically humbling. As my 2 month hitchhike through Europe taught me, however, too much of an amazing thing can sometimes leave you with a lack of appreciation for it. In retrospect the city is an absolute jaw-dropper complete with shrines, temples, and graveyards I thought only existed in idealised representations of Japan in Western cinema and art. However, a few days’ worth of touristic stumbling in the most oppressive humidity I have yet encountered in my life left me very sweaty and a little blazé about the whole thing. At least we had a great hotel at which we could rest when the heat got too much for us. (And yes, I can hear my tropical friends out there laughing at me as you read this; I’m well aware that I ain’t seen nothing yet if I call this hot).

One awesome experience Kyoto warranted was a unique and bewildering spectacle that can only be described as an elaborately ritualistic log-burning ceremony that ended in a parade. (Trust me, this doesn’t get any clearer with further explanation). One evening Mike and I accidentally stumbled upon a large gathering of traditionally-clad men of various ages. They were all milling around in semi-organised fashion near the centre of a large shrine/stage. Preparations were slow and plentiful, and before things really started to go down in earnest we had no idea what kind of spectacle we were about to witness (our bets were on some form of martial arts display). Eventually the event began when a very large bundle of reeds about 3 feet in diameter and about 12 feet long was lit at one end like a giant stogie. This burning reed-log was held on the collective shoulders of about 5 dudes chanting loudly in unison as they made their way out of the shrine and onto the streets of Kyoto. Behind this group were the rest of the 100-odd uniformed men – all smiling and chanting along with the log-bearers. Following them was a gaggle of onlookers and tourists who had gathered to join in the excitement. Bringing up the rear was a team of about 5 firemen complete with Ghostbusters-esque uniforms and water-throwing backpacks. They were charged with dousing any chunks of flaming material that happened to fall off the log and land on the street (as plenty did). Mike and I peeled off the main procession as it entered the busier part of the city feeling awed and respectful that such a strong cultural event still takes place in the modern day. Truly, save for Egon and Venkman’s presence, this whole thing could just as easily have been going down in 1300 AD and not one bit of it would have looked any different. Safe to say this whole ceremony was as intriguing as it was confusing. I will always hold the memory of the evening dear, even though I have resigned myself to never finding out the true significance – or even name – of the whole affair. Any ideas?

Comprehensively I would liken the laid-back cultural appeal and even much of the foliage in Kyoto to that of the West Coast of Canada (sans the marijuana, of course). This similarity was very surprising to me and although the city was spectacular in its own right, I think I was craving a little bit more of the robot-fuelled high-tech Japan that Tokyo had shown me. Indeed, I was itching to experience Osaka’s promise of a return to such by the end of my third day in Kyoto.

Early in the morning on the last day, Mike and I got our asses out of bed and booked a hotel for our one and only night in Osaka from the lobby of the Kyoto hotel. The two cities are quite proximate to each other so it was only around a half-hour’s train ride to get into the bustling centre of the new city. Once there, we were astounded once again by the bright lights and the flashy, high-paced atmosphere of large urban Japan.

Checking into our affordable and otherwise non-descript hotel in Northern Osaka, Mike and I wandered around the district a bit. We absent-mindedly took in the area whilst checking out the flashy local arcades and other various oddities. For lunch we dined on some excellent takoyaki, or delicious little octopus-filled batter balls that are apparently a specialty dish in Osaka. The honour and pride of Japanese culture again shining through, the men making these delectable little morsels were bona-fide professionals who have clearly dedicated their lives to ensuring the looks on their customers’ faces were as blissful as Mike’s and mine were as we enjoyed our heavenly meal.

In the hours that followed, we began to steel ourselves for what was to be the main purpose of our trip to Osaka: fugu. After some more sightseeing and aimless wandering, we took the metro down to the main boardwalk area of the city on a recommendation from countless guidebooks and our hotel concierge. We were looking for a famous fugu restaurant by the name of Zuboraya, purportedly marked by the giant pufferfish model hanging from its exterior. They weren’t lying.


As we went inside Mike and I each ordered the 3-course fugu set along with some delicious Japanese beer (the highly-exported Asahi which beats the pants off of any Korean brew and indeed most North American ones). The food finally came after much anticipation and excitement. After all, this meal could very well have been our last (à la that Simpsons episode).

The sashimi was good, but it wasn’t the best fish I’ve ever eaten. If it wasn’t for the vague (possibly placebo-induced) feeling of numbness around the edges of my lips and the knowledge that I could have died if the chef behind the counter was having an off day, I would say it really wasn’t worth all the hubbub. The meal was really good, though, and I’m definitely glad I did it since that’s one more thing I can cross off the ‘ol life list.

Comprehensively, if you’re looking for good food the entire nation is truly a gastronomic paradise. If you can get over some of the stranger snack foods sold in deps like spaghetti sandwiches with an indiscernible white sauce on them, most everything edible sold in Japan is 100% terrific. While reading menus was a bit of a challenge, practically every restaurant we entered on a random whim proved absolutely exquisite. If ever in doubt, we could always hop into a ramen joint that served noodles I will be dreaming about for years to come (and no, this dish is nowhere even close to the store-bought Styrofoam cups of crap you crétins are currently thinking about). Or, if we were feeling extra hungry, there were plenty of kaiten-zushi places around that were cheap, easy, delicious, and about 400 times better on every possible scale than their kitschy counterparts in the West. If worst came to worst, though, there was always a vending machine not far off. (Lonely Planet informs me that the country boasts a shocking 15,000,000 plus of them). If I ever felt home sick for a bit of my home culture, I would only have to look at one of these machines to see Tommy Lee Jones’ bright and chipper face leering back at me. Hilariously, he is considered to be the “Boss” of vending machine coffee in Japan, or at least that’s what I gathered from his ubiquitous image. (yeah, I’m still not sure of what the deal is there).

As for price, everyone always says that Japan is an extremely expensive country to visit. The truth, however, is that it is no pricier than traveling through much of Western Europe or even Canada. Coming from Korea and being paid in the inferior Won, some of the prices I encountered were a little shocking at first. If you sniff around a little, though, you’ll find that you can secure an awesome hotel room for as little as $40 a night per person as we did in Kyoto, or stuff yourself stupid on world-class sushi and ramen for as little as $8 a go. Comprehensively, it is an entirely reasonably-priced destination for the Western pocketbook to handle and, in my opinion, is definitely worth it.

So what are my thoughts on the country post-trip? I’m still gonna go with fascinated awe. Delicious, respectful, extremely impressed fascinated awe. There are certainly some aspects of the Japanese lifestyle that I will never understand, but I’m entirely okay with that. Indeed, I’m sure nobody who’s not Japanese would ever understand even half of the things they do or the ways in which they do them. It seems, though, that this is precisely Japan’s appeal. Somehow the country offers the entire gamut of unique awesomeness to the interested traveller. From the blaring, ostentatious fervour of Shibuya Crossing to the serenity and natural beauty of Kyoto’s back alleys, this country has it all. I don’t know if I’ll ever get myself back here, but my single week in Japan will definitely stay with me for a lifetime. Arigato gozaimasu, Nippon.