I awoke and headed from my hostel to the bus station. It was an uneventful trip, but keeping with my maxim of if you are not early you are late, I had a little time to kill. I walked around the station a few times, got some gum for the trip, then found my platform and headed to Kyoto.
On my way out of Tokyo, I encountered the rarest of things. On some patch of land by a highway, for the first time in my life, I saw three differing Cherry Blossom colors all seeming attached to the same root. Had I been messing with my iPod, or eating, or just doing anything else, I would have missed that unique beauty. This was a reminder that even at the most unexpected of times, great things can happen if we only pay attention.
We picked up more passengers at Yokohama, which was about 40 minutes away. We parked under a bridge as about 15 more people got on the bus, including my new seat-mate. This young man was more interested in sleeping than conversing, which was more than alright with me.
I must say, bus travel in Japan would be the best in any country that I would come to explore. They were punctual, clean, the riders were respectful, the onboard bathroom was spotless, and they stopped every two hours at rest areas dotted along the highway. They, too, were immaculate.
We continued on our way. I was incredibly tired but knew I could not sleep until I saw Mount Fuji. This would be the first time that I saw the iconic mountain, and I did not want to miss it. It lived up to the expectation, even though it was hidden behind some clouds.
A few hours later, I arrived at the Kyoto bus station, made my way to the train, then headed to the closest stop to my hostel. I then walked one and a half miles to my accommodations. This would prove trying as my digital turn by turn map died halfway there. It was already night time, and it was getting colder.
It seemed the roads I were passing were becoming a tad more foreboding. Granted, I 
knew I was perfectly safe, but remaining situationally aware was important, especially passing spooky temples enveloped in darkness.
A few blocks later, I arrived at my incredibly quaint and very Japanese accommodations. It was run by a man that was taking care of his son. He showed me to my shared room. For the night, I was to be the only one there. It was fantastic; custom made wooden bunk beds with privacy curtains, rollable futon mattresses, and incredibly warm blankets. I dropped off my stuff and headed out to get some food. I saw a gentleman selling Bao next to the spooky temple, so I bought some, then headed back to my abode. I relaxed in the tea room before I headed to bed.
My first full day in Kyoto was to be an interesting one. After handling some work for a client, I decided it was time to fulfill one of my childhood dreams. Like anyone born in the United States in the 1980s, I remember the Christmas we got our very first Nintendo, the NES. And with each following incantation, the Super Nintendo, the Game Boy, the N64, the GameCube, and the Wii, at least my affinity for the system and the company grew. I am even a stockholder and have been for over 20 years. This being said, I wanted to go to where my and many childhood dreams were made, Nintendo HQ. They have an old building and a new building. I went to the old building first, then headed to the new building. Now, all the information I got regarding Nintendo and visiting stated that they do not have tours and that they are pretty secretive about their complex. Undeterred, I approached the security guard and asked if I could take a look at the grounds. This reminded me of the time I let myself into Berkshire Hathaway in Omaha and asked the Security team there if I could have a minute with Uncle Warren. They respectfully declined. And my wiles flopped again as the security guard pointed to the big sign written in English saying ‘No Tours.’ Deflated, I decided it was time to head to the next item on my list.
Armed with another recommendation by Shanna, I headed to Fushimi Inari. Fushimi Inari is a Shinto Temple located on Mount Inari and is best know for its over 5,000 bright orange tori gates. Like how companies in America fund little league teams or have plaques put in parks, Most of these tori gates are sponsored by businesses all around Japan.
Leading up to the temple were hundreds of shops lining the narrow passageways selling souvenirs, religious items, and food. And they were packed!
Before crossing into the temple paths lined with the tori gates, I noticed something interesting. Shinto is a polytheistic animistic religion, meaning that they worship spirits. These kami take many forms, including that of the fox or kitsune. The kitsune were considered messengers to the gods, tricksters to proud Samurai, and general protectors. Surrounding Fushimi Inari is stone representations of these foxes. And they are adorned with a bright orange decorative cloth. So, it appears nothing new for human beings to dress up animals.
Traversing the tori gates going up the mountain was beautiful, but arduous. There were a lot of tourists, and even more young women dressed in kimonos taking selfies. After walking around here for an hour, I decided it was time to head on to my next stop.
The final recommendation that Shanna gave me was to head to the Gion District. Now, when one thinks of Japan, one of the first images that come to mind is that of the Geisha. The Geisha, contrary to the popular Western belief, are not courtesans. They are rather entertainers skilled in the cultural arts of Japan. The Gion District is where they congregate. Again, while flooded with tourists, I was able to see one briskly walking with her bodyguard.
After Gion, I headed to the Nishiki Market. The basic design is a 7ft alley that has shops on either side running straight for blocks. Everything imaginable to eat or buy is in there, including some Christmas presents I got for my nephews.
After the market, I headed to the Imperial Palace, which was amazing. Kyoto used to be the capital of Japan until 1868 when it was moved to Tokyo. Until that time, Kyoto was like the Boston of Japan, countless places of higher learning. Even to this day. Which saved them.
The emperor was here last week to announce his abdication, and the new era was announced on Monday. I sure have good timing. The Japanese mark their time differently than Western countries. They define their time in periods of rule. The current one I was in was the Heisei Era. At the time, they were still debating what the new name was going to be. On the news, they were talking about how, when the name finally changes, that there would be about a 7 Billion Yen loss in the economy due to the dates being wrong in the first week of the new coming era.
Another unique aspect I noticed in town is that elections are going on. I would find out later; they are occurring all over the country. Running around the main streets are people in little cars with megaphones on top as well as bright lights shining on placards of politicians smiling faces. They would go at high speeds, yelling at people on the street telling them to vote for the candidate. It was something.
When I returned to my room, new guests were staying there; a pair of Malaysian Muslim girls. I made sure to respect their space, knocking on the door and getting the all-clear before entering. We started talking, and I told them I was just in Singapore, their neighbor. They had always wanted to come to Japan and had been saving for years to make the trip. I told them about my travel plans, and they looked aghast. They said that they could only dream about doing something like this. It took them four years to save for this trip, given that the Malaysian Ringgit is worth so much less than the Dollar or Yen. I nodded and again thought to myself how lucky I am.
The next day, I woke up with a message from an old high school friend asking me what I was up to. I told him where I was and what I was doing. He seemed incredibly enthralled.
Today, I decided that I was going to go check out a city that was only a stone’s throw from Kyoto. It was so close that one only had to ride the regional rail to the terminus. I was not ready for the delight that was about to be bestowed upon me.
Osaka is like the New Orleans of Japan. While the frenetic pace of Tokyo is reminiscent of New York and the laid back intellectualism of Kyoto reminds me of San Francisco, Osaka seems like the place where the misfits of Japan congregate, just like home. My first stop was the Dontonbori, a neighborhood where shops line along the Dontonbori Canal. There is quite a famous ad of a runner, the Glico Running Man, that I had no idea was famous until I read about it. I should have guessed by the line of people waiting patiently to take their selfies.
I then headed to Amerikamura, the fashion district of Osaka. Amerikamura gets its name from the fact that in the 1970s, a bunch of warehouses was repurposed into shops selling American goods such as vintage clothes, jeans, second-hand records, and many other items from the West Coast of the United States. Because of the uniqueness of the area, TV and media introduced the place nationwide and “Amemura” (Amerikamura) became the birthplace of the latest fashion trends. Having watched several seasons of Project Runway with my Aunt, I think I would know a thing or two about high fashion. The items available in Amerikamura were amazing. Unfortunately, I got there a little too early as a bunch of the stores were not open, but from what I saw in the windows and displays were something.
After Amerikamura, I headed towards Osaka Castle. It rose out of the distance and beckoned to me. I ham glad I heeded its call. It is one of Japan’s most celebrated landmarks and served as a backdrop for Japan’s unification in the 16th century. It was beautiful beyond words.
After Osaka Castle, I did a bit of a personal errand. My brother-in-law is half Japanese. His family name is Ikeda. When I headed back to the train station, instead of going home as I planned, I decided to head to the city of Ikeda, a suburb of Osaka, to see the land of his ancestors as well as that of my nephews. I was very pleasantly surprised by the city.
After purchasing and mailing a postcard from their ancestral town, I walked around and found out that in this little hamlet, this place in which I had no previous intention of going, was something that would affect me profoundly. Having once lived the life of a starving artist, I nourished myself with Cup O’ Noodles for a portion of my 20’s. Ikeda, Japan, is its birthplace. It was lovely. If I took a poll right now and asked which place would be more fun Nintendo HQ or the Cup Noodles factory, what would you say? And I learned you would be wrong.
At the museum, they took visitors through the stages of product development, the timeline of the company, and even had a cartoon of the owner’s introduction to the American market. There were kids all around that could design their labels and also their particular brand of flavored noodles. It was a lot of fun.
I hopped the train back to Osaka, then another back to Kyoto. When I got on to the subway train, I noticed something extraordinary; everything was pink. The seats were pink, the walls, even the glass had a pink tint to it. I stood there for a few minutes as the train pulled out of the station when a smartly dressed conductor came into the car with a stern look in his eye. He pointed at me, then pointed to a sign, then beckoned me to come with him. Walking, I glanced at the sign and saw that this was a women-only car. Again, thoughts came to my head of the horror stories my female friends experienced in New York Subways, so I can imagine the fresh daily hell that women would be forced to endure riding in co-ed subways at rush hour.
Before I headed home from the station, I stopped to buy some more supplies for my bus ride to Hiroshima in the AM. On the way back to my hostel, I heard a bunch of music and people talking. As I got closer, I realized that there was some sort of fair going on within the confines of the spooky temple adjacent to my place. I decided to saunter in and was very glad I did. It was like any other fair in the United States, with booths containing food and games. But with a unique Japanese flair. I walked through the grounds, and with the chill in the air, it reminded me of one of my favorite New Orleans traditions, Oktoberfest. I then made my way back to the hostel to get ready from my early bus trip the next day. Today was a great day.
