Australia's Bushfires

It's time that we should have done another blog entry, but I really didn't feel right waxing lyrical about our trip, when such a tragic disaster has recently befallen an area we passed through just days before.

Russ and I would just like to express our deep sorrow; our hearts go out to those left behind to cope with the aftermath, in a country where we were offered the hand of friendship wherever we went, more times than we can count.

The attached photo may seem an odd choice, and is no doubt one that everyone has seen by now, but to me it helps sum up the Australian tenacity and generosity of spirit that we came across again and again.

Merry ChristmOz

The Talented Termites of the Northern Territory (and Russ and I) wish you all the best for the festive season.

THE END OF THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD

Darwin gets into the swing of being Down Under

...Can I just say that I thought of the title before Baztralia came out.

I know, I know, but I just have to say it – G'day! Given all the travel amendments we've had to do on our journey so far, I wasn't sure we'd really make it to Australia, but I can now confirm that the land of Oz does exist; now I'm here I am in no hurry to click my heels and whisper “There's no place like home”.

But before I go on any further, I feel I need to make a statement concerning my previous blog entry about Japan. It became apparent that Russ' and my reaction to our Japanese “experience” at the very least disconcerted some people. Can I clarify therefore that we did like Japan and we did enjoy our time there. Also, as a result of comments concerning my previous entry, I don't intend this to be a guide for potential travellers; if my notes on Japan came across as being touristy, well, as I said at the time, it was because we felt like tourists. In fact I tried very hard to not put people off, by saying that you should go, then you can make up your own mind. Surely, if we all liked exactly the same things, life would be bloomin' boring? There, I've said my piece, I hope we can all be friends.

I'm very aware that we are long overdue making some comment on our travels around Australia. The reason for that is that even though we've been here since 14 August and I'm writing this over 3 months later, we didn't manage to get round to proper travelling in Elmo until 16 October. The reason for THAT is that we arrived in Australia expecting Elmo to have arrived two days beforehand. Nothing is ever that simple though is it? Thanks to someone “forgetting” Elmo and leaving him on a Korean dockside for over 3 weeks, and the long, intricate Australian processes to get a car and all our equipment cleared through Customs and AQIS (a very strict quarantine process, involving among other things, Elmo being steam-cleaned, as they are very anti any “foreign bodies” entering the country, i.e. soil microbes, bugs and beasties ... surprisingly Russ got in no problem...)

Such a delay in Elmo's arrival meant a frustrated fortnight hanging around Brisbane while we sulked, then had tantrums, then finally got our arses into gear and flew off to Perth and the west coast for 3 weeks (that was the length of time our shipping agents told us it would be until we'd get Elmo. That's not quite what happened, but I'll leave that for a future blog entry). Since that's the main of our Australia experience so far, that's what I'll concentrate on in this section of our blog.

Perth, like other cities in Australia, is a fantastic mix of old and new

Pretty much our main reason for coming to Australia is because in the mid / late 1960's Russ' parents came out here for a few years, as part of the “£10 Pom” influx, and Russ was conceived here (although not born here, which disgruntles him greatly, even though I told him that had they all stayed in Australia he wouldn't have come across the love of his life – he thought I was talking about mountain-biking.) Russ therefore had a strong urge to see where he came from (Cottesloe, a suburb of Perth) and see where his Dad had worked (Exmouth). Since both these places are more or less either end of the West Coast we decided to hire a camper van, rather than rely on the quite rare public transport there. At the risk of immediately ostracising ourselves from may of our friends, do you know what, we both really like the campervan and camping lifestyle out here? We've even both taken to eyeing up motorhomes and Winnebegos ... Obviously the – usually - completely different weather makes a difference (I'll come back to that) and also the size of the country and the distances between places means there's none of the road-rage that UK caravanners are subject to and the cause of.

Yes, the weather. So we'd crossed Eastern Russia in 35 degrees C, then experienced 40 degrees in Japan. We got off the plane in Brisbane to 21 degrees, a fine summer temperature in the UK, but following the temperatures we'd had, it felt like we'd gone back to winter (which, bizarrely, we had; Brisbane's Spring starts on 1 September). It felt even more ridiculous when we flew in to Perth's 15 degrees, and once we were on the road in the campervan, we experienced nights of 3 degrees, and trust me, 3 degrees in a metal box is not conducive to a good night's sleep; even Russ was glad to share the hot water bottle I take with me absolutely everywhere.

There are such contrasts in the landscape on that coastline (in fact, the more we see of Australia, there are contrasts everywhere); we were both reminded of Eastern Russia – drive for an hour and you're in scrubland, drive for another hour and you're surrounded by lush Spring growth, and such Spring growth! We'd been advised we'd picked the right time to see that side of the country, that we would be amazed by the Spring flowers. We thought, okay, this is all going to be relative, right? Our perception of Australia is a dry, desert country, so we thought maybe we'd see a few cactusy-type plants. How wrong can one be? I don't think I have ever before seen so many different flowers all growing in the same place. If you can imagine an alpine meadow, with, granted, a bit more dry, red earth between each plant instead of green grass, and a few less softly chiming bovines. I stopped taking pictures once I'd developed RSI in my camera-button finger (while Russ nipped inland, climbed Uluru, and popped back again to see if I'd finished yet i.e. I took a very long time).

One of about 500 photos (seriously) of Spring flowers in WA

Right, our journey up Australia's West coast. On 28 August we flew into Perth, where we stayed a couple of nights in the city's YHA, a comfortable enough place to lay our heads, and a good cheap source of a nice big barbecued steak,
sausage and a generous dollop of home-made coleslaw. Perth is one of the many cities in Australia, especially on the West Coast, that is starting to see the benefits of the mining money that's sloshing around (or at least it was until the financial crisis reared it's ugly head). There is therefore a very sparkly glass and steel CBD (Central Business District) well under way, whilst the shopping centre is a mix of flash department stores and 1960's concrete boxes. I think I can probably wax lyrical for hours on some of Australia's architecture; so many of the homes are gorgeous old-style “Queenslanders”, made of wood panelling and up on stilts (or stumps, depending on which part of Oz you're from, apparently - thank you for that Harvey and Joan), and there are so many 1920's – 30's buildings, which we in the UK knocked down in our own 1960's concrete frenzy. We went to a cinema in the “old” shopping centre, and walked into an Art Deco wonderland; I missed most of the first half of the film we went to see (Hell Boy 2 by the way – ummm, it's OK) because I was too busy trying to absorb my surroundings; Art Nouveau and Deco are my weakness.

Perth's CBD-scape plus admirer

Two days later we picked up our “Backpacker” campervan. Whilst in the office waiting to see the instructional DVD, we spent a few minutes drooling over the Prado (Elmo's a Prado) they had on display, which had been converted and set up for off-road camping, even down to a pull-out sink and cooker in the side! And then began our trip proper.

One of the saddest, overriding memories of that particular trip, and one which has re-occurred since we've managed to get going on the East side too, is the number of kangaroos we've seen. Why sad? Because most of them were dead on the side of the road, hit by 4x4's, or, as seemed more likely on the West Coast, by “road trains”. These are lorries, or trucks, that are not one, not two, but THREE trailers long. They are seriously huge, and don't stop for ANYTHING, mainly because they are so big that by the time they've stopped they will have already run over what it was they were slowing down for in the first place. The advice given to car drivers is that if you meet one, just do your best to pull over as far as you can. Most of these trucks are covering enormous distances, and are on the roads all hours of the day and night, including dawn and dusk, when kangaroos and wallabies are at their most active.

Our first sight-seeing stop was Yanchep National Park, where you can walk round Lake McNess (yes, really) and where we saw a few wild koalas , I believe one of them actually moved (the science bit; koalas only eat eucalyptus, which is where they get their nourishment and water from. Eucalyptus is actually quite toxic and takes so much of the koalas energy to convert into goodness, that they are only actually awake for 4 hours a day. If you see one with it's eyes open therefore, you've caught it at a very good moment).

Yep, a good moment

From there we stayed in the small town of Cervantes, on a lovely campsite fronting onto the beach, which gave us good access the next morning to Nambung National Park and the Pinnacles Desert. It's one of the strangest places I have ever seen; a truly bizarre landscape of thousands of limestone pillars, jutting out of the sandy ground, some of them 5 metres tall.

The size of the campervans should give a good idea of the size and number of Pinnacles

On our way to our next night's stop in Geraldton, we took a lunch stop at the top end of Dongara-Port Denison. We sat eating salad at the table of our camper, looking out onto a sunny Indian Ocean, and watching an osprey go hunting for his own lunch (he succeeded). Magical. That kind of made up for Geraldton. I think maybe we must have gone in the “wrong end” as LP described it as “like a seaside holiday town”, whereas we got a very different impression as we took a walk from our caravan park through what we later found out is the biggest grain export depot in Australia. A 24-hour enterprise, we saw road trains coming in to deliver their vast quantities of grain. We were even more unnerved when, having walked the 2k into the town centre to get fish and chips to eat on the sea front, we asked the shop owners where was a good spot, to be advised “nowhere after dark”! They eventually suggested a well-lit site further down the seafront (which we never found), with the lady of the establishment advising us to keep the doors of our car locked ... I didn't have the heart to tell her we were on foot.

The one attractive bit of Geraldton we did come across next morning was the Cathedral of St Francis Xavier, built by Monsignor John Hawes, who built 16 churches in pretty much as many years.

What a vast difference again when we stopped in Kalbarri. On the mouth of the Murchison River, it has a beautiful estuary beach, directly opposite the campsite we stopped in that night. We had a lovely afternoon, going for a walk along the sand, playing frisbee, and then Russ yomped back to the camper to get a couple of beers so that we could toast the glorious sunset we watched from the beach.

A Kalbarri sunset

The next morning we were up early in order to be back on the beachfront for 8.45am, in order to watch the daily pelican feed (conveniently opposite our campsite again). The story goes that back in the 1970's a chap called Cliff used to go out in his boat every morning, catch a few fish, bring them back to shore and gut them on this very spot. A few pelicans got the idea that if they hung around long enough, Cliff would chuck them the scraps. And so a daily ritual began. This continued for many years, until Cliff began to get older and poorly, and so on the days when he couldn't feed the pelicans, friends and neighbours would take it in turns to do so. Eventually Cliff went into a nursing home, and recently passed away, and now volunteers go every morning to the spot to feed the pelicans that show up (some mornings there are none, some mornings there are several) and to explain a bit about the pelicans to the tourists that invariably show up to watch.

Did you know, for example, that a pelican egg is only 3 x bigger than a chicken egg, and the hatchlings are too small to be fed from the huge adult pelican beaks as other birds are fed, so they actually climb down inside the adult pelican's mouth, into the gullet and feed direct from there! One swallow by the adult pelican and the hatchling would be a gonner!

Three hungry mouths to feed

We had to make an overnight stop at Monkey Mia beach resort, as it's world famous for the wild dolphins that turn up practically each morning for feeding (can you see a theme arising here?). The big disappointment of this was that it wasn't made clear until we got down to the beach that not everyone gets to feed a dolphin; “handlers” pick out a few lucky people – neither Russ or I were lucky that morning. However, the wonderful part was that 6 female dolphins turned up, one of them with her 4 day old baby. I know I've used the term “cute” before, but this really topped every previous experience of cute. You assume that since dolphins live their life in water, that from the absolute get-go they will be at one with their environment. Errr, not quite. The best I can explain it is to ask you to imagine a new-born colt, all leggy and wobbly, and then transfer that image to a baby dolphin in the ocean. There was much snuffling and spluttering and squeaking as this little mite tried to keep up with Mum in the shallows. It was like watching a little tot learning to swim and snorkle at the same time. Everybody's heart strings were well and truly tugged.

Maternal instincts were definitely awakened

Once we were able to tear ourselves away, we ensured we took a drive through Denham, Oz's most westerly town, then on to Eagle Bluff where there are World Heritage seagrass fields that are home to dugongs and a variety of sharks. They must have all been out visiting the relatives when we got there. Then we made a stop at Shell Beach, which is exactly as it sounds, only so much more. For as far as the eye can see in both directions the white beach is made up of tiny cockleshells, but not only that; in some places these shells are 10 METRES DEEP. Astounding.

Go on, try and count 'em, we dare you

After that we ventured on to Hamelin Pool, where one can see the previously thought extinct stromatolites. I couldn't quite understand the science of it all, but they are purportedly the oldest living thing on the planet, and it's thanks to their existence that we came along, as they put enough oxygen in earth's atmosphere for us to be able to evolve. (yes, my head hurts too from all this information).

Yes, quite

We spent the night in Carnarvon, a really pleasant small-town town, with a gorgeous Old Post Office Cafe, where I had great pizza, and Russ was Russ and indulged in a Kangaroo steak.

There was an exciting start to the next morning, when some plonker backed into the driver's door of the camper, as Russ was waiting for me to check out of the caravan park. There followed a visit to the local police station to report the incident, where a brilliant female desk clerk told it like it is, with some quite fruity language. She was a star.

Later that morning we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn (as per photo at the beginning of this blog entry), and entered a landscape of termite mounds, wild emus and a feral goat. We reached Exmouth by early evening to find out that the couple who were running the caravan park we were staying at had moved from Chester 20 years earlier (only an hour up the road from home, for those who don't know).

Russ eyeing up a termite mound to see if it has potential as a 2-bed detached (once a surveyor...)

Exmouth Cape Caravan Park was lovely and peaceful. That first morning we had 6 cockatoos grazing round the campervan, and as I spoke to Mum that evening on the payphone at the entrance to the Park, we watched 4 kangaroos hop their way across the bowling green opposite!
We also succeeded in achieving Russ' main aim in coming to Australia, by taking a drive out to the Harold E Holt radio transmitter site where his Dad, Ken, had worked.

Some techy stuff about the station and radio transmitter Russ' Dad worked on

Whilst we were up there we visited Ningaloo Marine Park, where at a site called Lakeside you can walk in from the beach edge and snorkle out to coral that's very close to the shoreline. Perfect for someone like me who adores the sea but it petrified beyond belief to get in it. Still, with Russ holding my hand, I was able to successfully snorkle out to it, but it was hard to concentrate on the coral formations when there were so many gorgeous fish around; clown fish, black fish, bright blue fish, opaque fish with long, forked blue-tipped tails, sky-blue and pink fish, black and yellow fish, fish with snouts... you get the idea i was quite entranced.

All too soon it was time to leave Exmouth and start our return journey to Perth. Our first stop, Coral Bay, we found a bit of a mixed bag. On the one hand it's a really pretty bay, where you can allegedly snorkle just 50 metres off the beach (although an old-timer we met there told us it's more like 100 metres these days, since some freak weather a few years back meant the coral spawn didn't float away, but rather hung around and blocked out the sun on the coral underneath, which killed quite a bit of it off). On the other hand, because it's well hyped as one of THE places to visit on this coast, every one and their mother (yes, okay, not you Mum, sorry) visits there, which the one-street town cashes in on, resulting in us being crammed into a camping site space that at any other campsite would have been left as no-good waste ground. Anyway, enough griping. Whilst Russ had a nap on the beach that afternoon, I went for a wade in the ocean and had a hugely beautiful fish (about the size of a King Charles Spaniel) come up and investigate me, so I went back to fetch Russ and we paddled around in the water for about an hour whilst three of these silvery fish kept us company.

The next day we managed to keep driving for 6 hours, crossing the Gascoyne River, which was completely dry. Russ went to take a couple of photos and ended up chatting to a chap who was using the bridge and the dry river bed underneath to train a couple of folk in emergency service procedures. He told Russ to go and check the marker to see what the depth of the river could be (7 metres is it's usual highest point). He also advised that the Gascoyne River is one of the fastest flowing rivers in the world...

The Gascoyne River, one of the fastest flowing rivers in the world ...

We made a pit-stop at the Billabong Roadhouse because, well, because you just have to (and we had a bit of a yen for an icecream). The owner told us he and his wife had only taken over the Roadhouse the previous November, when the temperature gauge under the fuel pumps canopy had shown a temperature of 48°C between 2-5pm every afternoon!

Does exactly as it says on the tin

That night we “rough camped” ie drove into a big layby where a few other caravans had already parked up for the night. We found a quiet enough spot at the one end of the site and had a peaceful night, apart from the occasional roar of a road-train passing by on the road below. The only other point of interest was that the next morning we had to do what we'd done when we'd rough camped in Russia, and that was to dig your own toilet! Made a little bit more exciting here as you weren't quite certain what snake or spider might be frequenting these particular bushes...
The next day we drove through an area including a place called Gingin (my kind of town when it sounds like alcohol) where it was more English than England to look at, only with sun! Lots of rolling arable and pasture land, homesteads that looked more like grand estates, fields of frolicking horses and nibbly sheep.

We ended up in the small coastal town of Mandurah, on a campsite where a couple of once domestic black bunnies had gone “feral” and in typical bunny fashion were now absolutely eveywhere.

Another day's drive took us to Walpole, on the way passing yet more varied landscape. The closer we drove to Walpole, the trees just got bigger and bigger; a bit further back the land got quite scrubby; a bit further back still rolling pastureland again, orchards of cherries, apples, pears, oranges; and vineyards, or wineries as they call them here. Russ was very taken with the small town of Bridgetown that we passed through, lots of lovely “old-style” Australian buildings and homes. That night we stopped at Coalmine Beach, actually an estuary inlet, where the water is DARK BROWN, as a result of all the tannins leached out of the vegetation as the water makes its way down to the estuary. Funnily enough, neither Russ nor I felt inclined to go for a dip. This time we sat and prepared dinner at our campervan table while three Kookaburras worm-and-grub hunted around us.

A Kookaburra

We decided to hang on a couple of nights at Coalmine Beach, to give us a chance to wash some clothes, and to have a look round the area. I mentioned earlier about the trees getting bigger and bigger the closer we got to Walpole? That's because The Walpole-Nornalup National Park is home to the giant Tingle tree – not a made-up name, but a variant of an Aboriginal word for the type of Eucalyptus or Karri trees that they have. We visited the Valley of the Giants and took the Tree Top Walk, which is an amazing 600m long ramp gently rising and turning up into the canopy of the tingle trees. The ramp reaches 40m at its highest point, and it was glorious to be up so high and hear the wind roaring through the treetops.

Where's Wally? ... I mean Russ ...

On route to Margaret River the next day we stopped at the Gloucester Tree, one of three trees in the area which you can climb up the outside of. These trees were initially used as fire lookouts and hut-like structures were built at the top so that the fire wardens had some protection from the elements up there. Russ managed it, I welched after 6 steps. God it was horrible! It is basically steel poles whacked into a tree trunk that go spiralling round the outside until you get to the top, 60 metres later. There's no soft landing at the bottom, it's just hard ground; there's no handrail to grab onto, you lean over and up and put your hands on the next pole; there's no system of one lot of people go up, then another lot of people go down, you have to scooch over to the inside closest to the tree if you're lucky, or sidle to the outside of the pole (where there's nothing to stop you keeping going) if you're unlucky. Sadly we didn't get a proper picture of the tree, so you'll just have to make to with my terrible description and trust that I'm not exaggerating the sheer yuckiness of it.

Another day and off first to Yallingup (which means “place of love” in the local Aboriginal language – did you know by the way that there are over 200 different Aboriginal tribes?), where we got out of the camper for a little while and went for a bracing walk up a bit of the coastline to look at the rough ocean – it's the best surf for ages apparently. Then back in the camper until we got to Busselton which has a 2km jetty with an underwater Observatory at the end. The Observatory was closed when we got there but we thought we'd have a yomp along the jetty anyway ... there is a handrail on one side, but given the prevailing wind direction it's not the side you'd like it to be! And the wind certainly picks up the further along the jetty you go. After that we went for a visit with some people that Russ' Mum and Dad were friends with when they lived in Perth, and had a cup of tea with them and listened as they talked about the “old times”. From there it was another night in Mandurah and risking our lives with the feral black bunnies again...

One of my more attractive moments, I like to think

And so we got to Monday 15 September, and the camper had to be returned by 4pm (which was a saga in itself, given the girl we had to deal with at the office, but I won't go into that, suffice to say I sent a Victor Meldrew stylie email to the manager of that branch). Our last port of call was to go and see where Russ' parents had lived in Perth. We weren't sure if the little house would even still be standing; it was, and oh boy, how it's standing! The area has definitely gone up in the world, and a massive renovation and extension programme had been undertaken, as we were advised by the wife of the couple now living there. She very kindly gave us a whirlwind tour of the ground floor ... I have a lasting impression of the crystal chandelier in the kitchen.

Where Russ became more than a twinkle in someone's eye

Back to Perth we were then, and assuming we'd call the shipping agents to find out we could fly back to Brisbane and collect Elmo... Life's just not that simple is it? But I guess I'll save that for the next instalment.

Land of the Rising Sun, Heat, and Humidity

Sincere apologies, Dear Reader, in the satellite delay in updating our blog to include our Japanese sojourn. Somehow it was a very intensive four weeks, where we experienced the oddness of being tourists, rather than travellers, and spent a fair amount of time with sore heads and sore feet as a result of trying to visit and absorb a culture so alien to our own.
We are very glad we've seen what we've seen in Japan, but at the same time neither of us is particularly concerned that there's plenty we've still missed. We definitely got to a point where we were suffering from shrine and temple fatigue; philistine it may be, but how many shrines and temples is it necessary to visit before you get the general idea?
Please don't let me put you off; Japan is certainly worth a visit, I would just personally suggest you go with a mind to having an enjoyable time, rather than with the expectation of being blown away by what you'll see and experience. The impression we left with was that Japan has been very careful and clever in marketing itself (both to the “outside world” and its own people) as a magical, mystical place, but nearly everything we saw and every place we visited has been either been created or carefully managed; in our eyes there was very little “raw” Japan to be exposed to. Again, it seems like I'm running the place down, which I'm truly not; we do have some great memories, met some wonderful people (both local and fellow travellers and tourists) and had one or two once-in-a-lifetime experiences. (Mmm...I'm not sure that I fully agree with Alex's reservations, but I will try to expand on that. I understand that Japan is an earthquake, land-slide and flood-prone country (possibly avalanche-prone in the Alps, too). Natural features, and particularly rivers, have been (over-?) engineered (plenty of concrete used) to reduce the threat of landslides and floods, so there is little that looks really natural. Alex and I are probably more conscious of that, having crossed Eastern Siberia. (Below, what I regard to be a fairly typical view of a small Japanese city).
Also, shrines, temples and castles are usually built from wood, so many originals were burned down, either by accident, or during a century or so of civil wars, or during a period of modernisation in the mid to late 1800s, or during (massive) bombing raids in World War II. Consequently, what are now present are replicas. That's not to say that the replicas aren't interesting or attractive, but I feel that we have more surviving historic buildings in the UK; we just don't have the fanaticism for them that the Japanese seem to have (I don't regard National Trust members as fanatics).
Just as important is our approach to the country. I think Alex and I were too influenced by the enthusiasm of our Lonely Planet guide book and our expectations were higher than they should have been. Plus, we have realised that we are more interested in natural landscapes and wildlife than in cultural aspects. I know that it has been difficult for Alex to write this Blog because she didn't want to be unfair about Japan and looking at the 'photos that we have taken, they were lovely and/or interesting places - Russell).

So where do I start? Our journey to Japan from Russia? Wow, that seems like another world entirely, thinking back to our ferry crossing from Vladivostok to Fushiki. It was only fitting that it was a very “Russian” trip! The night we sailed we were advised that we would have dinner once we left the port, and on our recce of the ship we certainly saw the Dining Room being set up for a meal. However, there were no further announcements, and when we tried to get into the Dining Room about an hour later to see if anything was happening, the doors were firmly locked. We heard no more. Breakfast the next morning was actually announced (in English too), and our final Russian experience was being taken to a table and being told we would be required to sit in the same place for every mealtime for the next two days until we docked in Japan. A fellow traveller who'd also missed the previous night's window of opportunity for dinner was pretty much forced to sit with us, again for the duration of our sailing. It turned out to be extremely beneficial for us (but I'm sure something of a challenge for him), as Takuma (his name) was a Japanese student returning home after studying Economics in Paris for 6 months. He was lovely. We (me especially) were very concerned about the etiquette rules in Japan, which are many and far-ranging (in fact I felt under a lot of pressure to “perform” properly and not perpetuate what is supposed to be a Japanese perception that Westerners are somewhat uncouth and uncivilised compared to themselves). Takuma did his very best to guide us through some of the “basics” e.g. did you know it is considered impolite to leave a single grain of rice in your bowl? He was also an absolute star when it came time to find the train station in Fushiki, get tickets and work out how we were going to get to Takayama, our first stop in Japan. We took a photo of him, unfortunately we forgot to ask for his email address, so if anyone knows him, please ask him to get in touch!
(Left, a view of Takayama, though it's fair to say that all the rural areas we saw seemd to look like this. Where you see fields in the picture, these are paddy fields and is typical).
Can I say at this point, that unless you've been there, you can have no concept as to how hot and humid Japan can be. I don't think any daytime temperature was under 30oC the whole time we were there, and the humidity?! The nearest thing I can compare it to is to ask you to imagine walking into a hot bathroom after someone else has just had a long bath or shower in there. It's incredible; as soon as you walk out of your air-conditioned hotel you literally walk into a wall of damp heat. Within seconds you're dripping with sweat and don't stop until you're back inside an air-conditioned building. Most of the Japanese men have a towel draped round their necks, and nearly all the women carry dampened towels to mop their faces. We wondered if we were perhaps being a bit wimpy about the weather, until we met a couple of women in Nagoya (more on this city later), one of whom told us that her English friends who work there always leave and go back to Britain at this time of year 'cos they can't cope with the heat. And also this summer is an unusually hot one, so even the locals are struggling ...
That first day in Japan was very emotional for both of us. We'd become so used to being straight-faced and closed off throughout Russia, but now we'd jumped into a country where people were ready to smile all the time, and actively tried to be helpful. For instance, to get to Takayama we had to change trains twice, but when we got off our first train after parting ways with Takuma, we just didn't have a clue, as funnily enough, everything was written in Japanese (although as we spent more time there, we became amazed at how much IS written in English (Actually, most public transport information has some English included, a policy to promote tourism, I understand - Russell). Whilst trying to decipher a very mystifying timetable, a young lad came up to us and established where we were trying to get to, and told us to stick with him as he was going most of the way ... all this in Japanese by the way, he didn't speak English, but as Russ has said before, it's amazing what you can communicate by tone of voice and non-verbal signals. Thanks to him we safely got to our destination and very quickly came across our next helpful, smiley person, at the information booth situated right outside Takayama train station (fancy that, having an information point where it's actually needed???) who found us accommodation and gave us pointers to restaurants within about 5 minutes.

TAKAYAMA
A mountain town in Central Honshu (Japan consists of around 3900 small islands and 4 large ones; the latter are what most Brits would think of as Japan and Honshu is the largest of these and contains most of the major cities. Japan also lays claim to islands to the North, occupied by Russia, and to the South, occupied by North Korea. I think that they lost these additional territories at the end of World War II - Russell), that I would heartily recommend visiting, albeit with the proviso that you don't go expecting “real” Japan; for us it was a wonderful place to be as a starting point, but it's definitely geared up as a tourist trap; everyone spoke English, I swear we passed a “Ye Olde Tea Shoppe” or something very similar, and the place is absolutely heaving with Western Tourists. We heard more English spoken our first night there than we had in our entire two months across Russia, including Moscow and St Petersburg! (above, just a pretty view in Takayama).
We stayed at the Rickshaw Inn for 4 nights, and loved it as a base. Our first night we stayed in their “Japanese-Style” room, with a sacred space and tatami matting and floor-cushions and futons and green tea and everything! The next 3 nights we were in a Western-style room, which was equally comfortable (in fact maybe more so, 'cos you don't realise how much you rely on chairs until you don't have them! I'm sorry but there's only so long a Western body can sit comfortably on a cushion on the floor, while making sure your feet aren't pointing at anyone, another rule of etiquette!).
Whilst at the Rickshaw Inn we met a wonderful Aussie family, Oliver, Coral and their son Jim. (They had come to Japan for Jim to take part in a Dr. Suzuki Summer School in Matsumoto, but were doing some sight-seeing as well). In fact we liked them so much we positively stalked them and joined up with them again later in Matsumoto – more on that place to come.
Takayama is perfect if you want a place that you can walk round; nearly every corner you go round brings another lovely view of either a sparkling carp-filled river, or a glorious old-town street with it's distinctive cedar-frond spheres hanging outside the sake shops.

It also boasts, on the outskirts of the town, Hida-no-Sato, a wonderful open-air museum where dozens of traditional homes and farm buildings have been rebuilt, (having been moved from places now flooded after the creation of yet another hydro-electric dam).

And it really must be a wonderful place, because I had cycled – yes, me, cycled – there under duress, and my view was more than slightly tainted by the tantrum I'd been having, because I don't do handlebars, a steering wheel is SO much more me, darling.
KANAZAWA
Having decided to give Oliver, Coral and Jim a respite from our presence for a little while, (or was it that we could see them starting to get scared?), we headed off to Kanazawa, where we were going to swap our Exchange Form for a Japan Rail Pass. This is an essential if you're going to do a lot of travelling round Japan; the rail system there is an absolute marvel – a famous quote is that you can set your watch by them, which you really can (in general, when things in Japan don't work or run to time, it's surprising – Russell) – but it is VERY expensive (err...it's probably about the same as the UK, price-wise - Russell), whereas if you buy a Pass (which comes at a set price), you're pretty much guaranteed a saving on your travel costs. This wasn't a terribly simple thing for us to do; we'd of course only decided on adding Japan to our itinerary after China fell through, but you can only buy the Exchange Form for the Pass outside of Japan (and only through specified agents, none of whom are in Eastern Russia - Russell). Thanks goes to my Mum for this one, who took receipt of the Exchange Form and DHL'd it to us, along with two more Lonely Planets; not only was it a real faff to do it, but it was flippin' expensive too, and she's very kindly covered the cost for us. Thank you Mum!
We found we'd picked a classic time to move around; not only was it apparently the main Japanese 3-day holiday, but it was also the start of the school summer holidays too. So missing the train to Kanazawa that we were standing right by was only the first of our worries. (There's a very definite system on rail platforms, where the type of train coming in determines where exactly you stand on the platform, and I mean EXACTLY. These trains are punctual for a reason; if you don't get yourself on board within a certain number of seconds, then you've had it).
Once we found an alternative train to get us to Kanazawa, and actually managed to get on board this one, we arrived at our destination, found another brilliant information point to help us get accommodation, and then spent an increasingly worried 20 minutes or so, whilst they phoned hotel after hotel for us, trying to get us a room, only to be told they were fully booked because it was, after all, the holidays. But bless their cotton socks, the girls at the desk kept trying, and finally found a ryokan, (a traditional Japanese lodging house), to take us. In a way we struck lucky, as it was based in the Katamachi district of Kanazawa, the main shopping and eating area etc, and we were right by the River Sei, so it was actually a very quiet place to sleep. The only real problem was that the ryokan's air-conditioning system was truly antiquated, which meant that if you weren't sat right in front of it you couldn't feel it! We learned very quickly that when we came back to the ryokan in the evening, the thing to do was to have a shower (shared bathroom on the ground floor) right before bedtime, and then go straight to our room (on the third floor, up 6 flights of steps, no lift) lie down and not move for the rest of the night!

(Left, the Ryokan room set-up for our arrival, with a flask of cold green tea on the table).

(Left, how a ryokan room looks when the futons are takn out of their cupboard and the table folded away).

I have a terrible confession to make here; Kanazawa has a Macdonalds, and it made my day finding this out! Don't get me wrong, if it's your thing, then Japanese food is lovely, but as a Westerner you have to be prepared for the possibility of being served a bowl of rice with EVERY meal ... I don't actually like rice ... As time went on Russ and I both got rice and noodled out, and have realised that we most definitely have Western palates.Kanazawa has a Samurai district, where, yep you've guessed it, Samurai used to live. We spent a lovely (hot – 33oC at 11am) morning following the winding streets, which are lined with tile-roofed mud walls, and visited the Nomura Samurai house, which has a small but beautiful, quintessentially Japanese garden; green, lush, shady and tranquil, with huge carp gliding under a stone bridge.

We also visited Kanazawa Castle Park, (left, Kanazawa Castle) which became Russ' favourite nap spot for the next couple of days, having some generously sized benches tucked under gloriously shady trees. As with a lot of castles, temples, shrines etc in Japan, most of it has been reconstructed, but it had impressive interpretation (thank you Attingham for teaching me all about that!), with good insight into how the castle's (unique) wooden frame had been constructed ... well Russ liked it!

My treat was looking round Kenroku-en, one of Japan's three top gardens. I confess, initially it was something of a shock – it's so small, compared to English gardens and parks that are open to the public. But once we'd got our heads round the fact that this is normal for Japan, and adjusted our vision to appreciate the differences you can see with each step, rather than every few hundred metres, then the garden started to make sense. Also, once the heat of the day passed, and the soft afternoon light gently faded some of the hard edges, then it really did become a beautiful place to be (We can see that Japan must be at its best in Spring or Autumn; high Summer temperatures means that most flora had long-since bloomed and there was very little colour in the gardens that we visited, and the high sun did little justice to the gardens that relied on more structural planting. Japan's love of it's historic gardens and parks, I think reflects the very urbanised nature of Japan and their confidence in manipulating nature. Such gardens are a tribute to the ability and attention to detail of their creators to landscape and to plant and train trees, flowers, mosses, etc, in a way that mimics what happens in nature (and, perhaps, no longer exists in Japan), and they would seem spacious to the average Japanese house-holder, who is unlikely to have space for a garden, but I tended to find them frustratingly small and a little too contrived. However, they are very photogenic- Russell).
GIFU
We'd been advised to come here to go and watch the night-time cormorant fishing, more on that in a bit.
Our train ride to Gifu highlighted another fantastic bit of quirkiness with Japanese trains; when they get to their final destination and are due to make the return journey, we discovered that each row of seats in every carriage is pivoted, so you put your foot on a pedal to release the seat, and the whole thing swivels round to face the other way – brilliant! While on the subject of trains, I have to mention the fact that everyone, from porters to ticket collectors to trolley-dolleys to the driver, all have really smart uniforms (including white gloves - Russell); no scruffy, pilled, moth-eaten jumpers for them! And every time the ticket collector walks through the train, as he gets to the end of each carriage, he turns and bows to the occupants before moving through to the next one – how respectful is that?!

So back to the cormorant fishing, or ukai. This literally is fishing with cormorants instead of a fishing rod and line. It's a practice that's apparently been going on for centuries, and although I wasn't terribly comfortable with the amount of manhandling of the birds, Russ assured me it was perfectly fine, and that after all the cormorants have 10 years more life expectancy being kept in captivity for this purpose. There is a “master” who is in charge of about a dozen birds, who are released into the water but are tethered, so they can't get away. The master watches them until they dive for fish, then as soon as they reappear on the surface of the water, he hauls them out onto the edge of the boat, massages their throat to get them to regurgitate the fish (sorry if you're reading this while eating your dinner) and then drops the bird back in the water to have another go. The most peculiar thing about this activity, which I still don't really understand the why of, is that this fishing is done at night, and the fishermen use a flaming torch which hangs off a hook on one end of the boat. Hopefully you'll be able to see what I'm on about from the terrible picture which Russ will add (above, master with cormorant in hand, surrounded by tourist viewing boats. In the background is the flaming beacon of another fishing boat).
NAGOYA
For the life of us, neither of us can now remember why we decided to go here. It was a nothing kind of city on the whole, so we were glad we only booked in for 2 nights. Not that we had far to travel; it took a whole 15 minutes train ride between Gifu and Nagoya. We spent longer on the subway getting to our hotel district from the train station! This is where we met the 2 ladies I mentioned in my introduction, who discussed the heat. One of the them, although Japanese, actually came from Melbourne, and had brought an Aboriginal art collection with her to show at a gallery in Nagoya. She invited us to go along for a look, which we did the next day. She was an interesting lady – very “art gallery” (sorry Lou!)
Russ did have a big treat in Nagoya – a visit to the Toyota Commemorative Museum of Industry and Technology – heck that's a mouthful! Did you know that the Toyota family actually started out in the weaving industry? No, neither did I. I have to say, I was dreading the prospect, assuming it had the potential to be another “York moment” for us (when we were still dating, we had a weekend in York and visited the York Rail Museum, where Russ proceeded to bore the teeth off me while intricately explaining which cog fitted into which other cog, which such-and-such a bit of the the engine connected to the other whatchamacallit ...FOR A WHOLE DAY. This was at the time pretty much a relationship-breaker). But no, now I was to be pleasantly surprised, Russ restrained himself beautifully and in fact I enjoyed myself too. It was a great combination of interactive displays, information boards and fantastic visitor guides. One chap almost adopted us for the entire weaving and textiles section, taking trouble to show us every machine and how it worked, from the days of a hand-loom right up to the latest digital air-compression looms they use today. Might sound a bit yawn-worthy here, but trust me, this place is a must-see. Then of course there's also the automobile section, which we were rather pushed for time to see, but again, fascinating even if you don't know anything about what's under the bonnet of your car except where you put the screen wash.
(I reckon that Toyota is a good example of how Japanese firms have been so successful. In the 1930s they were a weaving loom manufacturer and the son of the firm's owner travelled to Britain to learn about how British built looms and ran factories (I take it that we were among the best in the world at that time). The son made detailed observations about every aspect, gave everything thought, and within 10 years was selling better equipment back to the British. He then went on to start doing the same with cars, by buying successful American models and stripping them down to examine them closely, adopting the American approach where it worked well, improving on it where it didn't.
The attention to detail and the level of care put into things is noticeably above Western standards. Combine that with no hang-ups about plagiarising the good ideas of others and a drive to succeed (probably in the name of national pride, more than financial gain) and you have at least some of the components of their economic success – Russell).
MATSUMOTO
Coral (as in mother of the Australian family we'd met in Takayama) had advised us that if we timed our visit right here we'd arrive in time for a big Taiko (Japanese drumming) festival. We did. Wow. We arrived early afternoon at Matsumoto station and enquired at the information desk there about the timings of the Taiko drumming. She must have misheard us, as she told us it finished at 4.30pm. We trundled our way up to the castle grounds (where the festival was being held) immediately, and indeed there was a group of women playing drums, very powerfully and emotionally, but there didn't seem to be a lot of people spectating, so we began to wonder if it wasn't such a big competition after all, especially as it apparently finished at 4.30pm. Thankfully Oliver (Australian father of said family) telephoned us and advised that the festival proper STARTED at 4.30pm, and what we were actually watching was a rehearsal.
Our hotel was literally a 5 minute walk from the castle grounds, so we were able to go back to the Matsumoto Hotel Kagetsu (where we had one of those rooms where you wonder if you've actually paid the right price, cos it's a bit too nice?) and just chill for a couple of hours, before joining up with Oliver at 6pm, at their hotel a 5 minute walk the other side of the castle grounds. There we met up with Coral and Jim, and another great family who'd come for their children to participate in the Suzuki School; Si, Shaz and their children Lily and Miles, plus a lad called Kai, who they were looking out for for the duration of their trip. There were also other families who we met over the next few days.

That night however, we watched a few Taiko groups until the kids started to get hungry, then Si took us to a local zaru soba (cold noodle) restaurant, where we had a good feed (and I apologise sincerely for the fact that Russ tried a local speciality, raw horse meat – yep, that's what I thought). Then it was back to the Taiko drumming, where we were all blown away by the skill, timing and strength these men and women have. At the very end we were treated to a performance by three famous male drummers, and yes, they were amazing to watch and listen to, but Russ and I wondered, in a society that is supposed to pride itself on doing things for the common good, rather than individual benefit, how did these three guys fit into things? They very obviously thought of themselves and were indeed regarded as “stars”. (Rather more than in the West, Japan seems to be about the performance of the whole or the group, rather than outstanding individuals. This isn't always the case, but it appears to be the norm and certainly the other Taiko performances were about the product of the group, not the egos of the performers – Russell).
The next morning Russ was brave and opted for a Japanese breakfast (I'm afraid for me it was Western all the way, I can't not have toast), and he said he certainly felt good for it afterwards, he just wasn't sure how much he enjoyed eating it. I can't remember all of what he had now, but there was the obligatory bowl of rice, pickled vegetables, a piece of fish, a bowl of miso soup and a couple of other “interesting” bits which Russ wasn't actually sure what they were.
Having filled up on such goodness, we met up with the Dr. Suzuki group bright and early at 9am, and had a joint visit to Matsumoto Castle, Japan's oldest surviving wooden castle. Having seen the reconstructed sections of Kanazawa Castle, it was great to finally see “the real thing”, especially the Armoury Room, where a special outer “run” had been built in order to allow quick passage for the Samurai warriors suited up in their full armour. The group then left us to go off and see Dr Suzuki's house, while we rested under a shady pergola and tried to recover from the energy of so many young 'uns!
I realise I haven't explained about the Dr. Suzuki School, have I? I'm not sure I can give an explanation that would do it justice, and I am fearful of offending by giving a totally inaccurate description, so please, if you want to know properly, I suggest you do an internet search. All I really can tell you is that although the Dr. Suzuki philosophy starts with music, it's purpose is to be far wider reaching, and I believe Dr Suzuki considered music to be a universal language, that could be used to bring all different cultures together, and help people “talk” to each other. Right, I'm going to stop there!
Russ and I were lucky enough to be invited to go and watch a class of Jim's. Jim plays the cello, so I have to ask you to imagine a concert stage full of about 100 child cello-players, with one (outstanding) teacher and a piano player, and over an hour-and-a-half they are playing progressively more complicated pieces, that they've learned to play just by repeatedly having listened to the music, not by reading it ... we were absolutely stunned. At the front were tiny tots of about 3, with age ranges going up to about Jim's age of 10, and the standard was staggering. We are so grateful to Oliver and Coral for having asked us along, because we got to experience something that we would never otherwise have come across in “our world”.

For our last evening in Matsumoto, we got together with the Dr. Suzuki crew again. We had a fun couple of hours in the castle grounds, where Oliver tried to burn off the excess energy of the younger members of the group by staging a no-touch fighting match, with Russ acting as ref, giving points for style and imagination – sounds bizarre, but we had an absolute hoot; when was the last time you saw someone KO'd by Buddha's regurgitated last lunch?! (above, Ollie, Jim, Miles and a lass we've forgotten the name of (sorry), with Matsumoto castle in the background). Once it got dark and we spectators had been gnawed to bits by the local mosquitoes (I have actually got scars from those bites, and no, I didn't scratch), then Si kindly took it upon himself to find us a proper Japanese bite to eat again, this time to a yummy Tempura restaurant. This was where we bid a sad farewell to the group, but Oliver and Coral, as well as Si and Shaz, were kind enough to offer to touch base with them again when we get to Sydney.
KYOTO
Flippin' heck, it was hot again! Matsumoto is a city nestled in the base of part of the Japanese Alps, so although it was warm, it had been bearable. But now we'd come south, and didn't we know it!
As soon as you get to Kyoto you have to stop (which we did), cos the station is worth a sight-see in itself. It's HUGE, a steel and glass building that's got a department store, an eco-friendly roof-garden (about 11 storeys up), and several food courts. In fact we got lost so many times in this building I'm not sure we ever went back through the same door twice. Then right over the road is the Kyoto Tower, on top of the (aptly named, I think you'll find) Kyoto Tower Hotel, which again, is a recommended immediate must-see, so we did indeed must-saw it, and found it was very useful as an orientation aid to the city.
We based ourselves in the Hotel Sancrane here, just two blocks up from the Station. Again we found ourselves in a room where we wondered if we'd been put somewhere by mistake, and spent our time there becoming more and more besotted by the hotel reception staff, who were lovely, especially when very seriously bowing to us as our lift door closed every time we went back to our hotel room.

Kyoto is a place where you have to do some serious sight-seeing, and we did. Our very first day we saw Kiyomizu-dera, a temple whose main hall has a huge verandah supported by hundreds of pillars; this is where we also experienced walking in Buddha's Belly! If you ever go, you have to do it! I won't give the game away, it's one of the strangest things you'll ever do, but you'll be glad you have! Then we took a recommended route down some picturesque old streets until we reached Maruyama-koen, a pretty park where we had lunch and were given two fans by a lady and her young son who I'd smiled at when we walked in! (Our dealings with Japanes people tended to be with younger people (or, at least, up to our age) and, usually, women . We received a few random acts of kindness, and we did quite well in playing them forward, which was usually met with great surprise by the Japanese recipient. Based on our experiences, Japanese are, generally, lovely people, ready to smile, very helpful and very, very polite - Russell).

Then it was on to Kodai-ji gardens (left. I couldn't bring myself to show a 'photo of gravel cones); very pretty with a raked gravel section including a pair of gravel “cones”, which Russ wanted to rake smooth! (I feel that some of these gardens have been designed by the Diarmud Gavin's of their day; in this case, they've had a tonne of gravel left over, wondered what to do with it, raked it into a cone and called it 'symbolic of Mt Fuji', or a 'focus for meditation' and everyone else has bought into the idea, believing it was always planned that way – Russell).

By then it was late afternoon so we wondered down to the Gion district and yes, saw Geisha! It becomes quite addictive, Geisha-chasing! It took a good hour before I could really tear myself away; you think to yourself, “if I can see just one more Geisha, then I'll go”, but the glimpses of them are so quick, it's never quite enough somehow! (I can't see the mystique, really. Like a lot of things in this country, the locals, and Western visitors, are willing to suspend belief a little, revere them and treat them as other-worldly. If Britain had a tradition similar to Geisha, that was still alive, it would be the subject of satire and derision - Russell).

Kyoto day 2 was off to Nara. A beautiful park, Nara-koen, with cute-as-a-button deer, that are so tame, if too darn nibbly for their own good! Be warned, if you dare to buy a pack of deer-biscuits to feed them with, they will show no mercy! (Not so cute. Some of them had learnt that to bite the bottoms of people carrying biscuits, as an encouragement to feed them and the stags had a tendency to come at you head down, antlers first just to remind you that they were in charge of the situation. Battles of wills ensued, but I was usually outnumbered - Russell).

Visited the Todai-ji Temple here, which has the Daibutsu-den Hall, the largest wooden building in the world, and contains one of the largest bronze figures in the world, the Daibutsu, or Great Buddha. At the back of the Great Buddha is a wooden column with a hole in it exactly the same size as one of the Great Buddha's nostrils. If you can crawl through it you are ensured of enlightenment. Kids scramble through it like fun. I knew I'd got no chance, but pinned all my hopes on Russ. He managed to get in as far as his hips. I'm tempted to go back with a chisel, would that still count?
While lunching in a remarkably deer-free spot nearby, we met Nilesh Ghandi, who's been working in Japan for 4 years now, who was visiting Nara with his parents and a Japanese work-colleague. We had a lovely exchange with them, and hopefully we'll now be able to maintain contact.
Our third sight-seeing day saw us starting at the Shosei-en, another garden where every step you take gives you yet another beautiful vista. Then onwards to Sanjusangen-do temple, which houses 1001 statues of the Buddha deity Kannon. It was an even hotter day, which may have resulted in what we saw there. As we walked round the outside of the temple, thousands, and I mean THOUSANDS of dragonflies filled the sky above us. I've got no idea what that was about, there didn't appear to be much water around the temple, just a small pond. A very surreal moment. The late afternoon saw us taking a walk out the other side of the station to a 5-tier pagoda, by that time we were too tired to go in, so just sat and looked. Sometimes that's enough.

Our last full day was equally action-packed. We began at Kinkaju-ji, the Golden Temple, which does indeed, since it was fully reconstructed in 1955 (an obsessive monk burned it down in 1950, as you do), have two floors covered on the outside in gold (leaf). We get the feeling this place would look completely fabulous in spring, when the blossom is everywhere to soften the edges, or in the autumn, when all the reds and browns and yellows would give the whole place a jewelled quality. From there we walked to Ryon-ji temple, to see the world-famous rock garden. Then we caught a bus across to Ginkaku-ji, the Silver Pavillion. Before entering, we had a picnic lunch on a bench along the Path of Philosophy, a sweet route by the side of a canal. Sadly the temple itself was all boarded up while they carry out a major restoration project, but the gardens were magical, winding their way up a hillside to give a tremendous view of part of Kyoto nestling in among the hills. As we left the Pavillion the heavens opened, really opened. We were able to find a scrap of shelter under a sign, across from the bus-stop, but literally in the time it takes to run across a normal two-way road, we were drenched. It was like we'd sat fully clothed in a bath and then stepped straight out. I don't think I've ever experienced weather like that before. That was our cue to call an end to that day, and a reasonably dramatic finish to our Kyoto visit.
HIROSHIMA
The date we took a train to Hiroshima? 6 August (2008). The date the A-bomb had been dropped on Hiroshima? 6 August (1945).
I'm ashamed to say that in our ignorance, we'd no idea of the significance of the date of our travelling to Hiroshima until I tried to book accommodation a couple of days before-hand and found I couldn't get us into the same hotel for two consecutive nights. But how chuffed are we that we managed to get there for such a special day? Although we missed the morning's official ceremony (at 8.15am, the exact moment when the bomb went off, as evidenced by 2 watches that were found in the aftermath, which are now in the Memorial Museum - hauntingly sad to see and realise what it was that made them stop) we arrived about lunchtime and went straight up to the Peace Memorial Park. There were still queues of people waiting to pay their respects at the cenotaph, where a book is kept with the known names of all those who perished at the time, and which is updated every year with those who survived the actual blast, but have died in years since. There is also the Flame of Peace, which will only be extinguished once the last nuclear weapon on earth has been destroyed.

The evening of the remembrance day was magical. People gathered either side of the river that runs between Peace Memorial Park and the A-Bomb Dome and we found a spot on the bridge looking towards the Dome (the 'A-bomb Dome' was a municipal building with a domed roof and the shell of the building survived the blast, despite being almost directly under the centre of detonation and the building. It became an iconic image and has been preserved. The rest of Hiroshima is a typical, modern thriving Japanese city). There was immense camaraderie. We chatted to Edwin, an American who came to teach English 21 years ago and who has just never left – a great guy, whom I think Russ envied for various reasons (you'll have to ask Russ to explain it to you in person!)

As darkness fell, hundreds of coloured candle-lanterns were lit and placed in the water; for ages they just sat all jumbled up against the river bank. Then the tide turned and gradually, slowly, the lanterns began to drift one by one past the Dome, under the bridge, and onwards down the river. I make no apology for waxing lyrical in saying that it was like watching hundreds of jewelled souls gently glide by.
The next day we visited the A-Bomb Museum, which goes into great detail about how the bombing of Hiroshima came about, and puts a very different perspective on what we English were told in our school history books. They are also very honest in admitting that their own military practices leading up to the bombing were often inhumane. We then made a stop at the Peace Memorial Hall, a contemplative hall of remembrance, which affected Russell quite profoundly.
If you should ever get the chance to visit Hiroshima, a coastal town, you must. At the time it didn't really strike me, but now I look at the pictures we took of the A-Bomb Dome and get such an eerie feeling; I recall walking round the ruins on remembrance day, and realise now that although there were hundreds of people milling around, I felt such a sense of stillness and quiet in that spot. A lone heron perched high up on the remains of one window frame, just watching.
TOKYO
WE CLIMBED MT FUJI!!! but more on that later.
I think one of our lasting impressions of Tokyo will be our stay in the Shinagawa Prince Hotel (we got a great room rate, honest!), which was a truly bizarre Las Vegas-style complex of shops, restaurants, cinemas, entertainment arcade, bowling centre and Epson Aqua Stadium, where from our 26th floor bedroom we looked down onto an outdoor pool that was home to half a dozen bottle-nose dolphins...

We did indeed go and experience the pleasures of the Epson Aqua Centre, that first night in the big city, and it was on the whole wonderful! Not only are there numerous tanks full of all manner of sea animals, but there is also a 20 metre long Shark and Ray Submarine Tunnel, where you literally feel like you're in the water with them. I confess we weren't happy with the state of the penguins, who were all huddled up facing the wall at the back of their “Penguin Continent” enclosure, and the lone “Happy Ocean Sunfish” was in what looked to us to be a too-small tank (although neither of us know what size tank would be the “right” size). What did feel right though, was the main dolphin pool, where we caught a performance involving the afore-mentioned bottle-nose dolphins, a false killer-whale (I'm sure there's a proper name for it, but alas we've forgotten it) and four Pacific White-Sided dolphins (thanks Russ for remembering that mouthful). What these creatures are capable of is a sight to behold, and any concerns we may have had about them being treated properly were definitely dispelled when we got the opportunity (for a fee of course) to touch one of the bottle-nose dolphins, a beauty called Snowy. There was obviously so much affection between her and her trainer; it was a joy to watch their “off-air” interacting.

WE CLIMBED MT FUJI!!! coming up soon.

We managed to “do” some of the Tokyo sights; Shibuya crossing is a visually famous site, when pedestrian lights go green at the four-way intersection and hundreds of people surge across the road. We're glad we've seen it, in fact we crossed it back and forth from pretty much every junction, to try and get the proper feel of it, but to be honest, it's just like any other busy crossing, and as with so many things, it's much smaller in real life. It does have a lot of giant video screens around it though – very Vanilla Sky. We hung out for a while at Shinjuku station, one of the world's busiest train stations, where 3 million people A DAY, yes, A DAY, pass through. Shinjuku is also home to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Offices, which are famous for their architectural style and which totally blew me away with their complexity, but Russ said he prefers Shrewsbury's Shirehall (do an internet search for it and you'll hopefully get the point) (I don't remember comparing it to Shirehall... - Russell). We had fab yakitori (skewered meat – Russell) and beer in Shinjuku, in a district called Omoide-yokocho. It reminded me strongly of a Blade Runner set, all tiny streets that you can just about walk down two-abreast, with tiny nameless restaurants, each one propping up the walls of the next, and probably only selling one type of dish. It's a district that is threatened with being demolished this year, to make way for posh new development; it will be a crying shame if they go ahead with it.
WE CLIMBED MT FUJI!!!
Harajuku girls? Yep, we've seen 'em, and the Harajuku boys as well (In the UK, these youths would adopt 'Goth' culture, but in Tokyo, the style covers ghoulish themes, pseudo-Edwardian and traffic accident victim, it seems, and, no, I'm not trying to be funny - Russell). Indeed very funky kids, but not many “posing”; if asked, a surprising number didn't want their photos taken, and I felt a bit odd trying to take sneaky shots.

At the other end of the spectrum, when we walked through Yoyogi-koen park just round the corner, we were visually and aurally assaulted by the Takenokozuku, a group of over-the-top rockabillies (left), who really go for it, and the more people taking their photos, the better. As we walked through the park on a Saturday afternoon, it became rapidly apparent that this is where many Tokyo folk come to do all the things they don't have space for in their city apartments. We saw people playing drums, saxophones, guitars, didgeridoos. Groups were playing catch with balls, frisbees, water balloons, or learning a new dance routine. Above all this was the constant blare of the budding rock bands who were set up on the park's perimeter walk. It was absolutely mental, and alien to Russ' and my provincial perception of being a place to quietly feed the ducks.

Have I mentioned that we climbed Mt Fuji? Well, if I'm absolutely honest, Russ climbed all the way to the top, I didn't quite make it. To give you an idea of what we did, I'll make a (British) comparison. Snowdon is Wales' highest mountain at around 1,000 metres. Ben Nevis is Scotland's highest mountain at around 2,000 metres. The top of Mt Fuji is 3776 metres, and believe me, that's high enough for the air to get pretty thin. I did manage to get to 3,400 metres, which I'm pretty chuffed with, whilst at the same time absolutely gutted that I couldn't make the rest of the way. However, I had to be disciplined; as it turned out, it took Russ another hour to reach the top after leaving me – if I'd been along it probably would have taken 2 hours, as I struggled more and more with the altitude, the higher we got. I was heartened by the fact that some of the Japanese climbers were actually carrying portable oxygen cannisters, whereas I, an ex 10-20 a day smoker for 20 years, did it “freestyle”! If I take nothing else away from our months away, it'll be that I'll be able to tell our friends' grandchildren “I climbed Mt Fuji you know”. That's if said friends haven't clobbered me to death for boring the pants off them by continually mentioning this fact every week for the next 25 years. And Russ did it – all the way! (Not said through gritted teeth. At all. Honest.)

Mt Fuji - the North lip of the crater

The next day, our last day in Tokyo, was equally brilliant for very different reasons. Thanks to Dave and Helen's input, Russ decided he wanted to go to a baseball match – baseball is Japan's biggest team sport and Tokyo is home to the Yomiuri giants, Japan's favourite team. It just so happened that they were playing on the Tuesday, against the Hanshin Tigers. We popped down to the Tokyo Dome (where they play) and got tickets for that evening's match, only the tickets still available by that time were Standing only, and a game lasts 3 hours, and we'd just climbed Mt Fuji (have I mentioned that?) the day before, and to be honest my feet bloomin' well HURT and so I was in a complete sulk. However, Russ successfully bribed me by treating me to steak at a nearby sports bar.
As we were leaving, me now full of protein and beer and much more amenable, Russ approached two guys he'd (correctly) pegged as American, and asked them if they could maybe give us some pointers on the game, since we knew nothing. It turned out that Brendan and Michael were also going to watch the game and had also only been able to get standing tickets, and so they very kindly offered to hang around with us and be available to explain the basics. Russ and I had a BRILLIANT 3 hours. Brendan and Michael – thank you so much for your patience and humour. Thanks to you (and possibly the next two large beers I seemed to neck quite contentedly) I wasn't aware of my feet at all. The game was so much fun to watch, with mascots cavorting about the field, and cheerleaders making Russ very hot under the collar (very agile, are cheerleaders) you couldn't help but be drawn into it. Since we'd been put in the Tokyo Giants area, we thought we should support them, and of course, they won.

We couldn't think of a better way to end our Tokyo experience and I can't really think of a better way to end this part of the blog. So “arigato gazaimas” Japan, and “sayonara” Dear Reader – we'll catch up with you again soon, when we've got some Australian experiences under our belts.

Left, Brendan, a Brit we never got the name of, Stu and Michael at the Tokyo Dome.

(I couldn't find a place to slot the ensuing rambling into so here is my post-script.
In Japan, space is a big issue, well handled. I am impressed by the way that such a densely-populated country is so ordered, clean and tidy (population about twice that of the UK, land area actually roughly 40% more (don't quote me on that), but much of it is hilly or mountainous and can't be built upon (landslides / flooding / other) so the people are squeezed into the plains). A lot of towns and cities feel to me like they are built to about 75% of normal size. Houses are small and packed together; most people run small cars and the few 4x4s that you do see look huge by comparison; most vans and trucks are smaller than the UK. Private car parks use automated racks to stack cars two or three high; even the (thousands of) shopping bicycles end up parked double-decker, in some places.

When we were travelling by train, it appears as if a lot of towns and cities blur into one another. At the edge of a town, there might be a few more paddy fields and a few less buildings, then a river and once across that you're into the next town.

It's rare to see any waste ground. If there is a triangle of land not big enough to build on, it will be used for growing rice. In fact, in the middle of residential areas, you will find green spaces, but rather than it be grass with kids kicking a football around on it, it's likely to be a paddy-field.

It's also a surprisingly quiet country; road speeds seem to be lower, engines quieter, it's rare to hear a car horn and rarer still to hear loud music from cars. (Quietness does not apply to major parks, shopping malls and giant video screens used for advertising).

Electricity - if there is way to power or automate something that currently relies on a manual process, they will do it, even if you never thought it necessary. Power consumption per head of population must be massive. I find it interesting that old Japanese houses were built in a way that windows were shaded from the sun and cooling airflow was promoted, but modern houses ignore smart design like that, because they can run air-conditioning units 24 hours a day (and every home seems to have them) - Russell)

Left, one way to run a car dealership in a cramped city - have your showroom on the first floor

Another successful deer round-up.