A night in Kyoto
Having to type this hurriedly in the foyer of the Kyoto Hotel Okura.
A night of terrible dreams with the constant theme of things getting out of control. Slugged about this morning till Hiroko prompted us to start our journey to Kyoto. She had been cooking in the night and we set off armed with a variety of edible delights for our journey.
Drove to the shinkansen station sitting in the front next to Hiroko. She is a fascinating person, last night she showed me a copy of her book of essays called "I am the D51" which is the name of a railway engine and a reference in part to her travelling the world when she was in her twenties in the 1960s.
Onto the shinkansen and rifled south through the eastern coastal plain. Looking out eastwards from the train there is flatness - heavily populated with scraps everywhere of agriculture. To the west there is a long line of pristine rain blurred mountains. Then through Nagoya, a big treeless, packed-looking city. Spent most of the journey gawping from the window and tucking into Hiroko's seaweed wrapped rice balls, filled at the centre with a little smoked bonito fish. Yum.
Into Kyoto and taxied through the bustling and upmarket shopping district to our hotel. The hotel dates from the 1930s and is quite grand in the lobby at least. Jennifer staying at another hotel.
After dropping stuff off in our rooms, Romy and Toby and myself set off for a walk in the afternoon rain. Wonderful time walking down long historic roofed arcades. A multitude of small shops selling everything from prints and calligraphy brushes to food and fish; shops selling miso from big barrels, and fish and seafood everywhere in all varieties. Dried bonito very popular which was shredded in one place to look exactly like wood shavings, and is used as a stock base for soups.
Found myself instantly falling in love with Kyoto and became spellbound by most ordinary things. The streets are incredibly safe, the people are very pleasant and polite, and the women very beautiful.
Stopped off for some coffee and creap in a chilled cafe then home to the hotel to enjoy a swift shower and went to meet Hiroko for a pre-meal drink. We four had a brilliant time drinking gin and tonic (Hiroko quaffing something called a salty dog), and chatting and laughing in this grand wood-filled bar. Our seats were by windows looking down at the rainsoaked, brighly-lit streets, and the only other people there were two older and important gents sunk in deep chairs by the bar. It was an excellent moment.
Eventually we pushed off, when Jennifer arrived, to search for food. Ended up scurrying in the rain between to roofed arcades, and ended up in a fairly modest place, but still had lots of fun.
Back to the hotel early for bed. Not before again enjoying my Japanese toilet. It has a heated seat and will jet surprisingly well-targeted spouts of water into your nether regions at the press of a button.
Below pillow origami in my hotel, my favourite train ever: the shinkansen, a random Kyoto streetshot, a vat of miso paste, and a Pachinko parlour - a extremely popular pursuit involving ball bearings and slot machines. The music inside was at a deafening volume, and the word Pachinko sounds like the "kerch-ing!" of winning.
Having to type this hurriedly in the foyer of the Kyoto Hotel Okura.
A night of terrible dreams with the constant theme of things getting out of control. Slugged about this morning till Hiroko prompted us to start our journey to Kyoto. She had been cooking in the night and we set off armed with a variety of edible delights for our journey.
Drove to the shinkansen station sitting in the front next to Hiroko. She is a fascinating person, last night she showed me a copy of her book of essays called "I am the D51" which is the name of a railway engine and a reference in part to her travelling the world when she was in her twenties in the 1960s.
Onto the shinkansen and rifled south through the eastern coastal plain. Looking out eastwards from the train there is flatness - heavily populated with scraps everywhere of agriculture. To the west there is a long line of pristine rain blurred mountains. Then through Nagoya, a big treeless, packed-looking city. Spent most of the journey gawping from the window and tucking into Hiroko's seaweed wrapped rice balls, filled at the centre with a little smoked bonito fish. Yum.
Into Kyoto and taxied through the bustling and upmarket shopping district to our hotel. The hotel dates from the 1930s and is quite grand in the lobby at least. Jennifer staying at another hotel.
After dropping stuff off in our rooms, Romy and Toby and myself set off for a walk in the afternoon rain. Wonderful time walking down long historic roofed arcades. A multitude of small shops selling everything from prints and calligraphy brushes to food and fish; shops selling miso from big barrels, and fish and seafood everywhere in all varieties. Dried bonito very popular which was shredded in one place to look exactly like wood shavings, and is used as a stock base for soups.
Found myself instantly falling in love with Kyoto and became spellbound by most ordinary things. The streets are incredibly safe, the people are very pleasant and polite, and the women very beautiful.
Stopped off for some coffee and creap in a chilled cafe then home to the hotel to enjoy a swift shower and went to meet Hiroko for a pre-meal drink. We four had a brilliant time drinking gin and tonic (Hiroko quaffing something called a salty dog), and chatting and laughing in this grand wood-filled bar. Our seats were by windows looking down at the rainsoaked, brighly-lit streets, and the only other people there were two older and important gents sunk in deep chairs by the bar. It was an excellent moment.
Eventually we pushed off, when Jennifer arrived, to search for food. Ended up scurrying in the rain between to roofed arcades, and ended up in a fairly modest place, but still had lots of fun.
Back to the hotel early for bed. Not before again enjoying my Japanese toilet. It has a heated seat and will jet surprisingly well-targeted spouts of water into your nether regions at the press of a button.
Below pillow origami in my hotel, my favourite train ever: the shinkansen, a random Kyoto streetshot, a vat of miso paste, and a Pachinko parlour - a extremely popular pursuit involving ball bearings and slot machines. The music inside was at a deafening volume, and the word Pachinko sounds like the "kerch-ing!" of winning.
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