Japan - Kyoto - October 6-7, 2008
While much of this trip has been on my own, I rarely felt truly alone until I arrived in Kyoto. I think I skipped many of Tokyo's "Lost In Translation" moments because I had quickly met four knowledgeable and open-minded people to spend my time with. Even without having seen the movie that so many Americans now associate with Japan, I was doing pretty well.
But in Kyoto, I found myself in a place where English was less prominent than 99% of my other destinations, and my very tight time schedule meant I'd have to compromise on some of the 'get to know you' steps I often take (like chatting with travellers in a hostel). Instead, I booked a small private room in a Japanese guest house and hoped it would all fall into place.
But in Kyoto, I found myself in a place where English was less prominent than 99% of my other destinations, and my very tight time schedule meant I'd have to compromise on some of the 'get to know you' steps I often take (like chatting with travellers in a hostel). Instead, I booked a small private room in a Japanese guest house and hoped it would all fall into place.
Alone In Kyoto
I began to doubt my choices immediately. My Shinkansen (bullet train) ticket was extremely expensive, but that was expected and I had convinced myself it was ok since my Japan flights were included in my RTW ticket. I further convinced myself with the classic traveller's dual arguments of:
- I may not get another chance to see Kyoto (a place several of my trusted friends have raved about)
- the Shinkansen is a required part of the modern-Japanese experience (along with a trip to the anime shop)
The electronic signs on the bus made finding the right bus stop was no problem (pay on departure...a real show of trust that not many cultures could allow), but I entered the wrong block of alleys of old Japanese houses and found myself crisscrossing with no hope in sight. I asked a few locals, and their smiles and blank looks made me realize I wasn't going to get too far. Written Japanese directions would have been the key. Darn. Finally, after getting further directions from a Best Western hotel, I realized where I had gone wrong and at 3:30pm I stumbled upon my small guesthouse.
The owner was a lovely man, thrilled with his hometown of Kyoto, and I did my best to not cause offense by rushing him through the lengthy check-in procedure. But 30 minutes later he was still making his way through his well-practiced English speech on the wonders of Kyoto. So I told him that I was headed back to Tokyo and then Hong Kong in the morning and I really only had time to see Kyoto for the rest of the day. His face dropped, his eyes rolled, and my previous hopes that "maybe he'll be happy at least to have rented the room for the night" vanished. I was in one of Japan's most treasured cities, a place where the average tourist stays for a week and leaves with barely a glimpse of the 2000 temples and shrines, and no capitalist rationalization could hide his disappointment. Nonetheless, he helped me select 3 places to rush off to before they closed, rented me a bicycle (with a basket!), and I headed off in hopes I wouldn't get lost again.
Things were looking up. I cruised along on my bicycle thinking, "this is the way to be a tourist!" and peddled my way 20 minutes across town to my first destination, with the obligatory quick stop at 7/11 for dumplings, the most Japanese of fast food and a staple of my diet there.
Kyoto is the most spectacular bicycling city I've ever seen. Every main street is wide with bike lanes and plenty of space for pedestrians as well. The smaller streets don't allow cars, so you can bump along the cobbled streets without much worry. Even with a slight wobble due to my oversized body on an undersized bike, I felt very safe. Not something I'd ordinarily do on my own in a city I'd never seen, but Kyoto is special.
So I basically followed the most rudimentary Wikitravel route starting with Kiyomizu-dera, the massive temple complex with a beautiful view of Kyoto, where apparently local Japanese kids some to take their class picture...
to the Kodaiji temple, where I finally felt at peace in this hectic day amongst delicately designed temples and bamboo forests...
and the Ryozen Kannon, the 24m statue honoring Japanese soldiers who died in World War II (not my particularly favorite thing to honor, but it is quite impressive...and on the way)....
passing through Gion to see geishas and have dinner (not together, though I think you can do that).
My Lonely Planet guidebook didn't treat me that well as I wandered the streets looking for restaurants that weren't shockingly expensive. I finally looked down a side street and, with a "now or never" feeling, and ducked into this doorway...
The meal turned out to be the pinnacle of my Japanese experience. I slid the door open to the gentle murmuring of a restaurant just beyond sight and, seeing all the shoes neatly lined up, took mine off. Noticing they were twice the size of the rest, I slid them into place. I was promptly yelled at in sharp Japanese by the hostess who magically appeared (just in time to see me make my first wrong move). I had obviously not stepped up onto the 2nd small level to remove my shoes, and so was not only soiling my socks on the unclean 1st level, I had also placed my shoes along with those of the servants. This might be a tough dinner.
Having worked out the shoe ritual to the hostess's satisfaction, I was guided upstairs to three wooden-framed, paper-panelled, sliding doors. Behind one, I could hear the comfortable conversation of happy dinner guests. I was taken to the one opposite, empty, with four tables. I folded myself onto the cushion on the floor and attempted to fit my legs under the very low table. To my dismay (and I'm sure theirs as well), the only comfortable position was straight-legged, but my feet stuck out the other end of the table. Nearly in the middle of the room. So I curled my toes, wondered if I'd be eating dinner here completely alone, and picked up the menu.
Thankfully, there were English translations and even some pictures, so I picked out a nice assortment of sushi, Kobe beef appetizer, and other small plates to get a taste of the famous Kyoto cuisine. All ready to point my way through my order, I sat patiently for the waitress. She came in several times, seating young parents with their sleeping baby, then two businessmen who promptly guzzled down several beers (always filling the other person's glass, a custom I'd read about but not seen till then). In all this time, I am working to make eye contact, but trying to not be too pushy and cause more offense than I surely already had. But after being ignored about 10 times, even my well-developed patience was wearing thin, and I did my best to clearly pronounce "excuse me" in Japanese as directed by the Lonely Planet. Cold shoulder. Now I really felt alone.
But the young father noticed my struggle, and with a smile pointed at the napkin dispenser. My first thought was that he was telling me to raise the white flag of surrender. But he got up and pointed next to the napkin dispenser, where a small electronic buzzer was setup. He pressed it, and instantly the waitress materialized with a polite smile ready to take my order. I gave him a hearty "arigato," ordered my food (and a beer), and had an immensely pleasant meal.
To this day, I think the small feat of overcoming a traditional Japanese meal on my own without losing most of my face is one of my great traveller's achievements. It may seem like a small event, but I think great successes often are. I was exhilarated and celebrated with one more beer at a cool Japanese reggae bar before wobbling home on my bike.
Air
The thing I mentioned about being alone isn't a plea for sympathy, it's more a statement of fact. Kyoto isn't a place to be alone. It's a place for lovers; a place to slow down and marvel at the seemingly easy perfection of the shrines; a place to reflect. And in this case, I did everything wrong. My capitalist logic was flawed. Hopefully the next time I return, I can spend the time to do Kyoto justice because I realize now that, unlike many cities, it's somewhere that gives back more than it takes. A rare treasure.
I figured I would end this post with a YouTube clip from "Lost In Translation" where Scarlett Johansson wanders around Kyoto in a day much like I did. She really looks at peace in the film, but as Hollywood often does of foreign cities, the reality is a bit lost (in translation). You can't do everything she did in a day . Still, it's a moving scene, and the song "Alone in Kyoto" that is playing in the background is by a band I like called Air. But Hollywood strikes again, and with the copyright I can't find any suitable clips from the movie to include. Instead, here's the same song where someone included beautiful shots of Kyoto. Gives you an even better idea than what I can say. Notice the cherry blossoms in bloom, a spectacular sight that I also missed out on due to my arrival in the wrong season. Maybe next time.
