The anticipation of the trip had us up way earlier that we needed.
We were out in the street looking for a cab by 07:30.
We were only 10 minutes drive away from Tokyo Station and our train was leaving at 08:25.
The cabbie was a talker, in a good way.
He was interested to know where were from and where we were going and commented in broken English to our every response.
He was typical of everyone we had met since arriving.
Interested, helpful and polite.
We got to the station only to notice that I had dropped my jacket somewhere between the apartment and getting in the cab. It was only one block and it was in front of the Kyobashi Post Office. I am hopeful that someone will hand it in to the post office and that Naoki will retrieve it for me.
The trip to Takayama was three and half hours all up, with a 30 minute stop in Nagoya.
Travelling in the Green Car is a little more expensive than “cattle class” but worth every yen. Space, in both travel and accommodation, is what you pay for in this country and we prefer to make sure the space we have when travelling is at a maximum.
We got to Takayama a little after 13:00 and were met with a light drizzle.
Not perfect weather but not “show stopping “ either.
We set off to the Ryokan to drop off our bags before getting something to eat.
We found the place relatively easily but this place was not some sleepy little one main street mountain resort like I thought it would be.
This doesn’t mean that it was not a lovely place full of traditional shop fronts and alley ways but certainly was not small.
Lunch was a bowl of shio ramen, for me, and for Tiz a teriyaki pork on rice dish.
Beer-u and nihon shu? Of course!
This is the first bowl of ramen that I have had that has been distinctly different from all the others I have had, that I can remember. The broth was very soy based, as opposed to the pork based ones that I would normally order. It was also a smallish portion. And, it was very good.
We took a wander around the main tourist(y) street, which runs parallel to the river, before heading back to the ryokan.
We were shown to our room by a smiling young lady that made us some matcha tea and suggested that we visit the communal baths. Separate for males and females, of course.
I was fine with the idea but Tiz not so much so.
Our room was typical of most Japanese homes, from what I remember of twenty years ago.
Everything is low and minimal. Minimal I like, low is back aching.
As we found out that the scheduled parade for tomorrow had been cancelled, due the bad weather, we went back to the train station to change our tickets to Kyoto to an earlier time.
We took the long way.
OK, we were now scheduled to leave in the late morning instead of mid afternoon.
We walked back in a big loop taking in the pathway along the river, past a huge tori gate and many little businesses on the outskirts of the town.
We had scouted out a large amount of the eateries earlier on the day and decided that there was yakiniku (small BBQ at each table where you grill your food yourself) place just around the corner that we wanted to try.
We ordered a selection of Hida beef cuts, some mixed vegetables and some pork head. When I told Tiz I was going to order “pork head” she grimaced and stated there was no way she was going to eat brains. She makes me laugh.
By "pork head” they actually mean tender, bite size pieces of very low fat meat from the head of the pig. Cheek and jowl meat mainly.
For drinks tonight we did something a little different. We both drank hot-o nihon shu, mainly because I could not face a cold beer.
Having mentioned “cold” I must comment on the preference for cold over hot in Japan.
The default for coffee, alcoholic drinks etc seems to be cold rather than hot.
This in itself is not a problem, but when the temperature is in single low figures we prefer hot-o over cold-o.
The food was “oiishi” (delicious).
When you say this to the serving staff along with “Arigato gozaimas.” you are guaranteed to raise a big smile and a bunch of appreciative nods.
Just around the corner was our warm room and made up beds in the “penthouse suite” on the 5th floor.
The whole scene looked charming. Where there was one small low table and two cushions, early in the day, now resided two made traditional beds.
My memories of sleeping on tatami mats does not include discomfort or restless nights, but on looking and feeling at how little padding these mats offered I think that tonight was going to be different.
We found two spare mat(tresses) in the cupboard and slid them under our made up beds and hoped for the best.
We watched the end of the recent Marco Polo TV series and fell asleep in our warm, comfortable, traditional Japanese accommodation.
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