Author: barrykissane

I think I’ve always liked buildings, and of many different kinds. I enjoy old temples, Greek ruins, skyscrapers, English manor houses, Japanese castles, churches, etc. I’ve been lucky enough to see some fabulous buildings over the years, but (perhaps like Prince Charles?) I don’t like boring buildings. [But, to be fair, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and what I find boring, others might actually like.] So I was attracted to Osaka’s wonderful Umeda Sky Building, pictured above, and it was the first thing I headed for after arriving.

It’s a fabulous modern building, with an observation area on top, to which I headed. Getting to the top involves going on an escalator between the two towers, however – a slightly scary experience! Here they are (one up and the other down) from the ground level:

And this is what they look like from the inside, as you are about to launch off on a ride between the towers, as well as from above, once you’ve arrived. It’s a spectacular sight and feeling. And of course I was pleased that the steps moved all by themselves, and didn’t need me to climb!

As you’ll expect, although the building is not super high (I think around 40 stories), there’s a pretty good view of the city from the observation platform at the top. Here are a few snaps to prove it. (Click on them if you wish, for a better view).

I’m embarrassed to say that I did not realise there was so much water around Osaka until I saw it from above, and nor did I know there was a downtown ferris wheel! The airport is very close to the city, and it’s always interesting to look down on planes …  I watched the trains going over the railway bridge for a while: there were often three, four and even five in view at once. You can see what’s happening in a city and what it looks like from this height.

The observation area itself was interesting, as it was constructed on the ground first and then lifted to the top as a block (of more than 1000 tons!) after the towers were built! Wow! It took about seven hours, but I’m nonetheless amazed at such a feat. Apparently, it was the first building to use this technique.

Another interesting aspect was the floor below the observation deck, which had nice pods to sit in (with friends) and from which one could watch the world out there. Those of you who know my views about selfies will not be surprised at my reaction to the two young ladies, sitting up high in a coffee shop lookout of one of the world’s great buildings, with fabulous views to see, and who took a photo – of themselves! Ye gods!

Wherever I walked around and in the building, I was greeted with wonderful views, such as the following few examples. I enjoyed looking down on next-door’s helipad!

There was an interesting display in the observation area of famous buildings. This snapshot shows just a few of them (click it to see them), but you’ll probably recognise some of these (such as the Eiffel Tower, La Sagradia Familia,The Temple of Heaven, The Taj Mahal, etc.). This particular building was named by a Times of London journalist a few years back as one of the top 20 buildings in the world. No doubt others have other lists, but I certainly enjoyed seeing it and being in it briefly.

Architects, like artists and poets, deserve to be named. Bravo Hiroshi Hara!

There are many other examples of lovely architecture in Osaka, some parts of which have a great feel. For example, this is the new Osaka train station (in the background on  the left). I loved the human touch of benches to sit on outside, too. And, being Japan, there is no litter at all anywhere. (People take their litter with them or deposit it in the place from which they bought it.)

The feeling of spaciousness inside newer train stations is extraordinary, as these snaps suggest. One of them at least is the Osaka station and another is the new Namba station elsewhere in the city (my recollection is hazy). It must be very satisfying to work as an architect and to be allowed to create spaces for people like these, but which nonetheless fulfilled their function as well.

Similarly, the examples below caught my imagination, too. Lovely shapes, designed for the joy of making something lovely. And of course, the mathematics is everywhere …

These are all newer pieces of architecture, clearly, but for me they added a nice feel to the city. I hope you like them too.

The view from the top of Miyashima Island has been described as one of the three top scenic views in Japan, so I had determined to see it. (They were described as uninterrupted 36o degree views, hardly a surprise as they’re on top!) But with sore feet after the temple experience, and because of the hot weather I decided to get the available ropeway there and back (a ropeway in Japan is what I had previously called a cable car), rather than just one way and walking back as originally planned. I regard this as evidence that I am getting smarter as I get older – albeit scanty.

En route to the ropeway, I stopped to rest my feet and have some lunch. I spotted a deer outside the restaurant and inside noticed that they used tatami mats for seating around tables. There are many deer on Miyajima Island, all quite tame and this one looked as hungry as me. I’ve long ago stopped sitting on the floor to eat, however, and had chosen a chair with my table … further evidence of advancing wisdom.

I always worry a bit about cablecars, to be honest. I can all too easily imagine the effects of a little bit of rust, a little bit of metal fatigue, an unusual response to environmental stress, etc. But I threw all caution to the winds and took off up the mountain, which tops out at 535 m.

Actually, there were two successive ropeways in this case, the first one with a smaller car than the second. Both show the luxuriant tree growth on the island, and both proceeded without incident (phew!). A nice thing about a small cable car is that you can meet others, of course, similarly imperilled, and in this case I met a lovely family holidaying from Tokyo. I even tried to engage the older child (a boy) in English conversation, ready for the return to school tomorrow, especially as he had not yet done his homework. [I was surprised to find children got lots of summer holiday homework, which is rare in Australia.]

Once we reached the top, the view was indeed terrific. I could se parts of the ‘inland sea’ between Honshu and Shikoku, including some islands. The heat made it a bit hazy, but I was still pleased to be there.

However, the climb was not over, as there was a walk to the top of the mountain. This proved to be very hard in the heat, with my feet still complaining from the temple walk and because it was quite steep. I did not have to climb (in the Hillary and Tensing sense), but it was tough going. Made me realise that although my brain still thinks I’m about 22 or so, my body has better evidence of my age, and I was uneasy about getting to the top observatory before it closed at 4 pm.

Along the way there were small temples, some founded by the same man who founded Daisho-in temple, as described in another blog. Reikado Hall is quite famous it seems for housing a fire that has been burning for 1200 years! The same fire was used as a pilot to light the flame of remembrance in Hiroshima’s Peace Park (as described briefly in another blog), making an interesting and unexpected connection of my two blogs. But all I noticed on the way up, having stopped at the temple to catch my breath (only just successfully) was that there were still more stairs to climb! (Click on the images to expand them, and see the stairs for yourself).

So I trudged on up the hill, determined not to be beaten, against the advice of my feet. To prove I actually made it, here is a picture of the observatory, at the top, which was a very welcome sight. I’m pleased that Mt Misen was not 540 m high … I don’t know that I could have made another five metres!

I rarely indulge in selfies, having already a pretty good idea of what I look like, even under conditions of heat stress, but on this occasion I succumbed to a suggestion of my companion family (who had reached the summit some time before me) to recognise my success with a photo:

The view was indeed magnificent, and in all directions. I was able to see more of the Inland Sea and of course across to Hiroshima, from whence I had come for the day out. here are a few snaps:

And here is a picture of my travelling companions and myself, enjoying the comforts of the observatory before tackling the descent. They were very pleasant company.

The trip down the hill was a little easier, after the success of the climb. I paused occasionally to capture the views, and especially liked seeing some of the trees against the sea, even dead trees:

In all, a wonderful day’s outing to Miyajima, that made me glad I came, despite the physical hardships. It’s a lovely place, and I can now see why some people prefer to stay overnight at the island to enjoy its many charms, but at a more relaxed pace. The sense of achievement in reaching goals is pretty nice too, as even my feet probably agree.

There are several cultural attractions on Miyajima Island, one of the main ones being an ancient temple, founded in 806 AD by Kobo Daishi, after whom it is named. (It’s an important Japanese temple in the associated sect of Buddhism it seems.) I thought that 806 AD seemed a long time ago! Clearly, the temple has changed over the years, but I was attracted to a temple that is more than 1200 years old, so thought I would have a look. It looked lovely from the gate, as you can see above, but I was a little disconcerted at the steps I could see … or at least how many of them there seemed to be, as it was a hot day.

Undaunted, I decided to have a look, and my attention was caught by this cute little stone monk at the gate:

When I saw the steps, I was a little uneasy … but ploughed on. I am pleased I did, although at the time, the steps became a bit hard to handle, as there were a very large number of them. I’ll bet the monks who lived here were pretty thin and fit (unlike the statue). Some of the steps had prayer wheels in them, and I think that spinning them around is meant to bestow a blessing of some kind on you. Here are a couple of examples:

I did wonder how often people would actually read all the characters on all the wheels … but perhaps that’s a good meditation practice; I don’t know.

On my travels, I encountered further stone monks. Not far inside the gate, I found this set (each one different):

To my great surprise, a little further on, I found an even bigger collection (I’m not sure what is the collective noun for stone monks, I’m afraid):

At this point, I stopped counting them, but a brochure told me that there are about five hundred of them. They looked very interesting, as if waiting for their master. I loved all the greenery too, so much so that I kept climbing up the steps.

There were various small temples dotted up the hillside, important for different temple purposes. Some of them looked spectacular inside, such as these two:

The temple on the left had a wonderful sand mandala (inside the case), such as the Nepalese Buddhists produce, and it was no coincidence that there was a photo of the Dalai Lama nearby, on the occasion of a visit of his, and hence probably the source of the mandala.

I saw many many statues in the temple grounds, of various kinds. It made me wonder if anyone actually knows how many statues are in the temple, in fact. Some of them were absolutely wonderful, made with great skill. Here’s a selection of them; if you click on a picture, you’ll see the whole picture:

I was intrigued by this large statue just at the base of (yet another) set of stairs, however, as it reminded me of Pinocchio, in the children’s story, whose nose extended when he told a lie. I’m sure that is not the case for this statue, but failed to find any information on why his nose was extended.

There were of course many Buddha statues, sometimes popping up in strange places, unexpectedly. I enjoyed these two (well, four actually), including the “See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” trio:

An especially impressive set of eighty eight statues was in a cave, right at the top of the temple (hundreds of steps from the bottom). They depict the principal icon of each of a set of 88 temples on a prestigious pilgrimage route on Shinjuku (the large island south of Honshu). It seems that they give the same blessings as the temples on the route (which would save a lot of time and effort, I guess.).

I confess to being fairly ignorant of Buddhism (and its various sects), but do know at least that it’s not really a religion, but rather a set of practices, so people don’t pray to a Buddha, but hope that the Buddha will guide their spiritual practice. Without knowing a lot, I guess it’s hard to really understand what you see in a temple like this; I assume it’s just as hard for Japanese Buddhists to make sense of a Christian church and its various practices, or a Jewish synagogue or a Muslim mosque (although in those three cases, religion is actually involved). I generally try to treat places like this respectfully, even in my ignorance, but certainly enjoyed the beautiful things and the surroundings in this ancient temple.

Again, as noted in an earlier post, there is just a hint of colour changing happening here, as summer is fading, making me wish I was here a few weeks from now to see the effects.

But the steps? I managed to get to the top, of course. And, since I am no longer there, repeated the performance to get to the bottom again. But it was very draining in the heat. You’ld think I’d get a bit thinner – like the monks – with all that climbing, but it has not happened.

I needed to write something more positive after writing about the atomic bomb in Hiroshima, if only to record that it is a nice city, and that there are lots of good things to do here that don’t mess with our minds so much. I didn’t know about Shukkeien Garden until I was on a free bus that happened to stop there, so the next time I went on the bus I decided to visit. Funny, really: I’ve never been a gardener, but I enjoy other people’s gardens!

I’m slightly embarrassed to be surprised that some things in Japan are very old, too. In Australia, we think of things that happened early in the twentieth century as ‘old’, but here (as in Europe and elsewhere with recorded histories), old means hundreds of years – if not thousands. Anyway, this garden was first constructed around 1620, some 400 years ago. It was a ‘strolling’ garden: you strolled around it, as I did on my visit. But it was constructed to shrink scenery, so that it provides a sort of miniaturised landscape (apparently of the famous West lake in Guangzhou, which Marian and I had the pleasure of visiting – and walking around – some years ago.)

I was so impressed with my stroll that I used the above photo on my FaceBook home page, thinking it was about time I changed the scene.

Like most other things in Hiroshima, the garden was effectively destroyed with the atomic bomb in 1945, and has been rebuilt faithfully since then. Here’s an old and new picture that shows how effectively that’s been done (click on the images for a closer look):

In fact, it’s still undergoing renovation – I guess gardening is a relentless sort of activity. But I was amused by the distinctively polite Japanese apology (including a bow) for the work in progress on a small bridge:

The park is beautiful and is beautifully maintained so that I thoroughly enjoyed strolling around it, despite the heat. It was one of those places where you would get a nice enough postcard just by pointing your camera anywhere and keeping it horizontal. Here are a few randomly chosen examples (you can click on the photos to see them in full):

I’m not sure how they get the small trees to look like they are big trees seen from a distance (the Bonsai effect, I guess), but it all looked lovely. The distinctive features of Japanese gardens seems to me to be the green, the rocks and the water, although that is likely to be because I have mostly visited Japan in the summer time. (The colours of changing leaves in autumn look lovely and of course the spring flowers – such as cherry blossoms – are rightly famous, while trees draped in winter snows look different again).

Here are a few more pictures of similar kinds:

In my wandering around the (comparatively small) garden, I noticed some tea-houses and one of them included a marriage ceremony – or at least the photographs of it! Of course the bride and groom were happy to be photographed by a wandering ancient tourist. I loved the traditional costumes, although did not envy them wearing them in the heat. (It was at least 35 degrees C at that stage).

Not normally one for selfies, I succumbed to a request by the groom to be photographed with him, despite my slightly dishevelled appearance!

I reciprocated by taking his photo on an attractive bridge nearby!

I felt a little sorry for the bride, who must have been drained in perspiration in her beautiful costume, despite her attendants working on keeping her cool, but she bravely was happy to be photographed again.

It’s a beautiful little garden, and I was pleased that I decided to tarry a while there, although the phrase, “Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun” was buzzing around my head for much of the time. I was especially pleased to do so after the unavoidable melancholy of the graphic reminders of the city’s past.

I have also made a mental note to try to find  a way to return to Japan in different seasons. They have all four seasons here (unlike Australia, where many of us get at best two different seasons), and I’d love to stroll around the same gardens in all four seasons, but still prefer them to be other people’s gardens.

Peace Memorial Park is close to the epicentre of the first nuclear weapon used in war, when an atomic bomb was dripped on Hiroshima. I came here once before, several years ago, on a brief visit. It’s not really the sort of place you want to come back to, but I did anyway; I was staying only a ten-minute walk away.

Life for the people of Hiroshima, and for the people of the world, changed beyond measure in an instant. The Park has many kinds of detailed information about the event, including pictures of the area and of the people beforehand. Here is an old picture of the area, including the famous dome, as well as of a local primary school and its children before the bomb was dropped:

As you probably know, the instant of change was in the morning of 6 August 1945, celebrated these days as Hiroshima Day:

There are pictures of the aftermath, and many moving stories from people affected, located in various parts of the Park. They are all very harrowing and hard to cope with. This is a very sombre place, with people walking around but not talking much. The photographs below show the domed building (which has been left in its bombed state) as well as some of the people affected by the bomb. Those closest to it (including the primary school class above) simply were vaporised by the intense heat of the explosion.

The park has been constructed as a monument to peace and to love, and has been the centre of world anti-nuclear movements and peace movements for some time. It’s a pleasant looking place – until you get too close to it. For example, the mound below looks attractive in the sunshine, but contains the remains of tens of thousands of people, who could not be identified and had to be cremated.

There are often groups of children here, attracted particularly to the monument with a bell in it, ringing the bell to commemorate the children who died as a result of the world’s first nuclear bomb. There are many many paper cranes around the park, too, of the kind that kids get taught to fold (in Japan, but certainly elsewhere), and you can see them next to the bell.

The cranes are related to the story of one of the Hiroshima ‘survivors’ who later contracted cancer and died, even though she folded a thousand paper cranes (hoping that her with would be fulfilled). It’s a well-known story, but in case you’re not familiar with it, here is a little detail (you can click on a picture to enlarge it enough to read it).

Since then, the cranes have become symbolic of something hopeful, and the city continues to be besieged by papers cranes. I noticed them mentioned in the new railway station in Hiroshima when I arrived a few days ago (again, click the image to see the messages).

The cenotaph commemorates the dead at Hiroshima. Numbers vary as it depends in part on how you count them. At least 140 000 people but there are many after effects …

The view through the cenotaph in the centre of the park shows an eternal flame, which the City of Hiroshima promises will never be extinguished. [I discovered later that the flame was lit from a flame burning on Miyajima Island since the ninth century AD, so there’s a fair chance the promise will be good.]

There are some lovely monuments around the park, too. I had read that this Buddhist bell, to be rung for peace, was enclosed in a map of the world without borders; that is, no countries are identified, but just a world for humans without their politics. I’m sure John Lennon would have approved (got me thinking about Imagine again). However, I was unable to see the detail claimed on the monument; maybe I didn’t look hard enough? Still, the sentiment appealed to me.

I’m not sure it was there on my previous visit (and it looked new, so that’s possible), but I also saw the Hiroshima National Peace Memorial Hall for the Atomic Bomb Victims, an impressive underground building:

The (tiny) tiles on the wall represent the 140 000 victims of the bombing, displayed according to where they lived in Hiroshima. If you click on the middle picture, you may just see the small square tiles, one per person. the small fountain in the middle depicts the time of 8:15, and the water is offered in memory of those who died begging for it. It’s beautifully done, but I could not stay there long …

Holidays are supposed to be ‘fun’ – at least according to some world views. But sometimes, the world is not fun, and deserves our attention too. Like most Australians, I was taught only one version of the Hiroshima bombing, but of course it’s never as clear cut as we would like it to be. And I long ago learned that history is always written by the winners. So I don’t want to tangle with the conflicted past, but hope that the world can move on from this awful event, and avoid repeating it. Modern nuclear weapons are, I gather, around 100 times as powerful as the bomb that was dropped on Hiroshima. Surely no political or military problem will be solved through use of such a weapon? There must be a better way to resolve conflict, deal with aggression, settle differences.

And that’s the message of the Peace Memorial Park. Let’s learn from history and not repeat it. The following message captures the intention of the Park well, I think:

I have not seen a message offered in more languages before, including both braille and sign language (via the touch screen).

Indeed, the message of the Peace Memorial Park is that we should have “No More Hiroshimas”.

I agree. We must never do this again. I hope that any world leaders with their fingers on their buttons visit this site and think about the consequences for the thousands upon thousands of ordinary people who might be involved.

The City of Hiroshima seems to have moved on from this event more than 70 years ago. Or at least it seems that way. It’s a nice place, and of course much has been rebuilt. But it can never entirely forget its past, which is respectfully recognised in this park, in my view. The tram stop next to the park is called “A-Bomb Dome”, which makes it fairly unlikely that locals can ever forget. And maybe none of us should forget.

One of my main reasons for coming to Hiroshima was to visit Miyajima, as my previous visit here a few years ago was too short to do that. Miyajima is on every package tour to Hiroshima, and the wooden structure (called O-torii) shown above is one of the distinctive Japanese sights. The Itsukushima Shinto Shrine was declared a World Heritage Site in 1996. Several hundred years ago, in 1643, Miyajima was recognised as one of the “three most scenic spots in Japan” … so how could I resist?

It’s a short train ride and then an even shorter ferry ride to the island, and the island is close enough to the mainland that the O-torii can be seen before boarding the boat (although not in this snapshot of the boat). The island has several attractions, but this post is only about the shrine.  (More posts to come later).

On arriving at the island, I was surprised to find that there is a very large deer population, wandering amongst the tourists. While not aggressive at all, they are of course looking for food, and are fond of paper, it seems. I didn’t see anyone molesting or molested by a deer. There were also some helpful signs in English (always appreciated), but some seemed a little unnecessary. Also lots of stone lanterns, and I imagine that a festival here (at night time) would look spectacular.

The shrine itself is painted a brilliant vermillion, as is the O-torii, apparently to ward off evil spirits. (The colour reminded me of the spectacular Fushima-Inari shrine just out of Kyoto that I visited years ago.) I spotted a couple of priests (not sure that’s the word) and lots of tourists enjoying walking the extensive shrine corridors – as did I. I was a little surprised to see the large collection of used sake bottles and sake casks, giving me the impression that the priests like a tipple (as for English monasteries). Maybe not; I’m not sure how to interpret such largesse.

The tides vary quite a bit here, and the best time to be here is high tide. (I had planned to do that, and tide tables are easy to find online, but I arrived early and then went exploring elsewhere on the island before the tide came in!). So there is no water lapping the shrine in these pictures, but you can see the mountainous island behind as well as the special wishes written on paper.

Tourists are interesting to observe too. They went out by the boatload, bedecked in conical hats, to get closer to the shrine (which must have irritated other tourists trying to photograph it!). Actually, it seemed to me that other tourists were mostly photographing themselves and their friends! The selfie-generation! I am always impressed with the capacity of Japanese people to queue politely and patiently, in this case, waiting to be photographed in front of the O-torii from a good vantage point.

As the tide was drifting in, it was good pickings for the local birds, herons I guess. And there were lovely photo opportunities of stone lanterns everywhere.

It’s a lovely spot and well worth a visit. I spent several hours on the island – longer than I expected – as you can see from my parting photo of the O-torii. Shinto shrines in Japan are easily found by their O-torii, but this is the only one located in water, I think. (Mathematics teachers like me cannot help but think of them as large Pi signs!) Sunset through the structure is especially lovely, and it is popular for people to actually stay at hotels on the island, no doubt partly to enjoy that experience.

Although it might sound like a place, or even a person, okonomiyaki is a food, regarded as the special food of Hiroshima. Apparently it became popular in the 1950s in postwar Hiroshima at a downtown food stall, although it was also a children’s snack just before the war. But now it is very popular and so I decided I could not leave Hiroshima without trying it.

That wasn’t too hard, with almost a thousand places serving okonomiyaki in the city. They generally look like this, with people seated around a teppanyaki-like counter (hotplate) on which it is cooked (and eaten). All kinds of people: younger people, older people, business people after work, groups of people, single people and even tourists …

Making it is half the fun, and a good chance for banter between chef and clients. It starts of course with a beer, but also a pancake mixture. Followed by a handful of cabbage. In some places, you cook your own, but in my case, the chef did it for us. the beer was very welcome after my day trip.

Next comes the next ingredients, placed on top, comprising firstly some tempura chips and then some bacon.

After a while the mixture is flipped over (which looked pretty tricky and I was pleased that I was not doing the cooking). Some soba noodles (thin spaghetti-like noodles) are lightly boiled and then fried, and while that is happening there is even time to capture a photo of my skilful chef:

Then comes the egg – which I missed photographing, too interested in my beer. But here is a photo of an adjacent chef, cooking three okonomiyaki at once at the egg stage. (As well as doing that he was able to engage in conversation with his three clients and with me about the forthcoming football match between Japan and Australia … multi-tasking!) The soba noodles are put on top, and the pile flipped again, ready for the egg to be added after it is cooked a bit.

The last steps involve adding a distinctive rich brown sauce and a sprinkling of seaweed or other stuff on top, to get the finished product shown in the picture at the top of this blog.

Then comes the adventure of eating the okonomiyaki. The implements provided are a hera and chopsticks. I had read that the hera is used both for cutting off bits (like a pizza knife) but also for eating them (like a spoon), although some people cut off bits and placed them on their plate and then used the chopsticks. There did not seem to be strict rules of etiquette fortunately, and people are very tolerant of the incompetence of beginners and visitors.

Here is my meal, part-way through. It was absolutely delicious, or, as they say here in Japan, oishi! I won’t show you my plate, however, which was a bit messy!

Mine was just a basic okonomiyaki … but more than enough to fill me up and a nice complement to my beer. More elaborate versions have other things added on top it to them, such as oysters (very popular here), more eggs, cheese, etc. The chef next door was making one with egg and two with cheese for a group of three young men sitting next to me. The cheese needed melting (with  a blow torch):

Haute cuisine? Certainly not, but great fun and pretty nutritious, as well as being very delicious. Close to what some would call ‘peasant food’, but an excellent meal for me!  I guess you could ‘try this at home’ but it’s much more fun in a group and I was pleased that I managed to experience it here before I left Hiroshima. Thoroughly recommended if you are ever in these parts. The last snap is of my chef and a couple of other customers, all reflecting the generally friendly and bubbly atmosphere.

Although I’m not long into my travels in Japan, I have already become fond of the Izakaya as a place to eat and drink. Not really a restaurant, but more like a pub, Izakaya are lovely places for solo travellers, although they are also very popular with groups of local people to spend time together, sharing a meal and a few drinks. Often identified by the lantern outside, Izakaya are everywhere in Japan and very popular.

On arrival, you can be seated at a table or at the counter; travelling solo, the counter is the best choice, as it’s a good place to find people to chat with, watch the cooking process and even chat with the staff.

In this place in Kurashiki, the counter was nearly full, but I managed to be seated next to a lovely couple from Yokohama on one side and a lady from Kyushu on the other side, but conversations could include other people too, as people are very friendly here.

I have also visited a couple of places in Hiroshima, which were more clearly local Izakaya rather than catering mainly to a travelling clientele of tourists (I think …). In one of them, the baseball was the main attraction at the time, and everyone was a supporter of Hiroshima Carp, the local team. I had a lovely chat with two of them and also enjoyed the game, which Hiroshima lost (but it was exciting and close at the end!).

Sitting at the counter allows you to see what’s happening with the chefs, and (if they’re not too busy) chat with them too.

Beer is a popular beverage of course, and always available in draught form, which suits me just fine. Much nicer than bottles (which is the only alternative in most Australian restaurants, unfortunately). Comes in different sizes, and is generally served with a noble of some sort. The green beans are delicious, but I have had alternatives too, even pumpkin.

Later in the evening, a drop of sake is a good night-cap, but moderation is advisable. Sake is served cold or warm, according to preference (both are nice) and is often shared. In one Izakaya, there were sake bowls on the counter for customers to use as they wished, for example.

As far as food is concerned, having an English menu is helpful, but not really essential (you can always point to what someone else is having!). Skewers are very popular, and come in all kinds and comprise all sorts of things. I have not yet had any that were not delicious, so it’s hard to make a mistake, I think.

Skewers are always beautifully served in ceramic trays, which I have often seen in Japan,  but not really appreciated their purpose.

There are other dishes of course. Being an island nation, fish is very popular, but I have even managed to find potatoes here already … I thoroughly enjoyed the potato dumpling, served in a lovely sauce with radish on the side, for example.

Of course, groups of people can have a good time in Izakayas (indeed, that’s what they’re for!) and I have often enjoyed doing so in the post with friends and colleagues.

But, travelling alone, they represent a good (and affordable) place to eat, drink and chat with local people.

Kurashiki is a small city near Okayama, but distinguished as it has an old quarter with traditional houses. I spent a night here and had hoped to visit the old quarter, but it was too late to do so, so I enjoyed a wander around in the morning (before it was choked with (mostly Japanese) tourists.

But first, a mathematical note: I have heard of tatami mats before, used as floor coverings in many houses (most houses, I suspect). They are made of a straw-like substance and lined down the longer side. The mathematical interest is that they are always in the ratio of 2:1, being twice as long as they are wide. Rooms are measured in tatami, in fact! The room I stayed in (with my AirBnB family) was huge, being an 8-mat room. Japan often has small rooms, as small as 4-mats, I think; I have certainly stayed before in many small rooms.

The old quarter of Kurashiki is located close to a canal, which looked really beautiful, with willow trees and lovely clean water. The black and white motifs of many of the buildings, as well as the traditional woodwork and ceramic tiled roofs helped the ambience as well, as these few snaps suggest.

When I was wandering around, preparations were underway for another day of tourist influxes: many Japanese people come here to remind them of days gone by, it seems. I was pleased to be able to escape before it was all overrun with tourists.

I was intrigued to read the guide sheet from the JNTO (Japanese National Tourism Organisation), which publishes an extensive range of really helpful material free online. They had a wonderful sentence regarding a walk along Honmashi-Higashimachi Street, which previously contained many tradesperson’s houses, but these have now been converted to other things: “A walk along these streets will bring you into close contact with the people living there, and inspires a curious feeling of nostalgia for a time you never experienced”. I love it! I didn’t see many people (too early), but understood the JNTO meaning.

Kurashiki is a beautiful place and well worth visiting. Apart from lovely old buildings in a serene environment (before the tourists invaded), I encountered some unexpected things too, such as these water lilies in Ivy Square. (The square was previously a textile factory, but has changed function now and even has a hotel.) The water lilies were planted directly from some lilies in Monet’s garden at Giverny in France, and were donated by the local O’Hara Museum! [The museum is a world-class museum modelled after the Greek Pantheon, with a very good collection of paintings from famous painters, both Western and otherwise, and probably the main attraction here.]

There are new things in Kurashiki as well, of course. I enjoyed a stroll through a typical Japanese shopping street, with very many small shops in a long (hundreds of metres) undercover walkway. I’ve seen lots of plastic food in the windows in Japan (very helpful for tourists ignorant of Japanese), but the plastic ice creams caught my eye!. I also loved the display of boots in a shoe shop just getting ready for the day. I could have posted many more photos from lots of small, distinctive, often quirky, shops, but restraint is a virtue.

I was also intrigued to see the manhole covers (not sure if that’s what they are …) in Kurashiki, including their own distinctive pattern and the comic book character also. Japanese people seem to really like small cute things – as do many others of course – and the manhole cover is a nice example of this. I’ve never really noticed manhole covers in Australia; maybe I’ve just neglected them or maybe they are just not so interesting?

Wandering around town can sometimes be problematic, but Kurashiki is as good as I’ve seen anywhere as far as information is concerned. There seemed to be many signs (with both English and Japanese), and one of these information boards with a map on almost every corner. That’s really helpful to visitors, and stands out as some places are much less diligent in that respect, especially to foreigners (Thank you, City of Kurashiki!) It reminds me of course at how poorly we in Australia signpost things for Japanese tourists.

I was also pleased to see an escalator to get up to the road crossing to go to the station; maybe I’m getting tired more easily, but I notice myself choosing escalators (and elevators with my luggage) instead of stairs these days! Still, I had walked a fair way and it has been quite hot …

Finally, I loved the greenery and the trees here; I’m beginning to wonder if Japan doesn’t deserve the phrase, The Emerald Isle, as much as Ireland does, as it’s been spectacularly green so far …

En route to Kurashiki, I chose to stop for a couple of hours in the city of Okayama, mostly to see the famous garden, but also to stretch my legs and to see Okayama Castle.

Japanese folks are fond of ranking things, and the Korakuen Garden in Okayama is ranked as one of the three most beautiful in Japan (I am not sure by whom). Since it’s only about a 30-minute walk from the train station, I decided to stop and see why it was rated so highly. Of course summer is not the best time to see Japanese gardens – probably the worst of the four possible seasonal choices in fact, but one has to take the chances offered.

The garden has lots of lawn (which very green at present), and of course lots of rocks and lots of water, typical of many traditional Japanese gardens. (The photo at the top reinforces this suggestion.) It was first opened in the year 1700, when it was used by the local nobility, but has been open to the public since the  1880s. It seems that it hasn’t changed much down the ages, and was a lovely place to wander around (despite the heat). There were some surprising features of the garden, as well as the traditional green, rocks and water, as shown in the images below.

The garden has a few small orchards (a cherry orchard for the cherry blossom season, e.g.), but I was surprised to find a tea plantation. I was also a little puzzled by the bamboo decorations on some lawns – possibly for a night time display? I was pleased to see the bird sitting serenely on a perch … always a god sign that a garden has fitted into the local environment.

As well as tea and fruit, the garden had a rice plantation. Rice is very important in Japan, and Japanese people are pretty fussy about their rice. (Some Australian rice is sold in japan, I think, but mostly it isn’t, as it doesn’t satisfy the Japanese expectations. I’ve not checked this claim recently … hope it’s not Fake News!) The crop is getting ready to harvest soon, I think, as the blown-up images suggests:

The garden had some nice walks, some of them through small forests and up and down small hills. It got me thinking that it would be very difficult for someone to navigate the paths with a wheelchair, despite their attractiveness:

Next to the garden was Osaka Castle, which looked splendid – at least from a distance:

Japanese castles were built by feudal lords in the old days, but few of them remain in their original condition unfortunately. Okayama Castle was completed in the sixteenth century, and is adjacent to the Karakuen Garden. It was destroyed in an air raid just before the end of the second world war, however, so that today’s version is a concrete facsimile built in the 1960s. Nonetheless, it looked splendid from a distance. I took a closer look, climbing to the top, which gave a good view of the golden roof objects.

These were gleaming in the sunshine and looked even more impressive up close than they did from a distance.
I had not realised from below hat they were fish-like creatures, and they certainly made a good contrast with the dark tiles.

The castle is sometimes known as the ‘Black Castle’ because of its external colouring (although it looked more like grey than black to me).

Most, but not all, the people I saw today appeared to be Japanese, some fairly clearly so, such as this couple below heading up the hill to the castle.

Walking back to the train station to resume my journey was interesting too. I was impressed with the street markings, effectively giving a separate lane to pedestrians and to cyclists going in each of the two directions. Pedestrians get their own zebra crossing, too. We often have problems with cyclists and pedestrians sharing footpaths in Perth, although this solution requires a rather wide footpath! Speaking of cyclists, I was intrigued by the sign (which I may be misreading), suggesting that bicycles cannot be parked here.

These signs might be good ideas, but I saw many examples of people not adhering to the commands, with the bicycles parked above a spectacular example, and the bicycles riding the wrong direction a less spectacular one. Japanese folks are very law-abiding (e.g., wait for a pedestrian light to turn green before crossing, unlike, say, residents of Manhattan), so these breaches were a surprise to me.

I also liked the little manhole covers (if that’s what they are):

All in all, a pleasant break of my journey, before heading to Kurashiki, just a few kilometres down the road (or down the rails in my case).