Stillness

Sinking into the rocks

Cicada’s cry

Haiku by Matsuo Basho, composed at Yamadera temple

9 August 2023

• Ride to Shiroishi (40m)
• Private tour of a sake factory
• Ride back to Sendai (40m)

Shiroishi

This morning, I bid my host farewell and walked half an hour to downtown Sendai, to leave my luggage at my next accommodation. My favourite chain of capsule hotels, whose Sendai branch I’d already stayed at in February.

Sendai was hot and windy, with the occasional drizzle. Why were Japanese metropolitans windier than the countryside?

At noon, I met a friend of the Morioka woman, a lawyer, at his office. He’d invited me to a private tour of a sake factory in Shiroishi; the CEO was his childhood friend.

He was 36 years old, with sharp features, long bangs, and shorter hair on the crown of his head sticking up like an in anime. He reminded me of L from Death Note, if the latter wasn’t so sleep-deprived and crazy.

(I later learned that he used to be a model.)

We drove forty minutes to Shiroishi in his car, so cutting-edge that the seat belt automatically contracted to meet my figure after I’d fastened it.

The road through the countryside was gorgeous, but the weather in Shiroishi was flippant: sunny one moment, then raining cats and dogs the next. We waited inside the factory for the CEO for 2 minutes; upon heading out, a downpour caught us all of a sudden.

The lawyer treated us to lunch at a famous, nearby restaurant. Small and traditional, from the Meiji era. Known for umen, Shiroishi’s specialty – noodles with soy sauce, walnut sauce, and sesame sauce.

Private Tour of a Sake Factory

Then we returned to the factory for a tour. The CEO’s explanations were very challenging for me to follow. A lot of scientific terms and esoteric words. But I understood the gist of it. (Probably.)

We went through all the different stages and rooms of making sake, beholding large machinery and larger tubs. Finally, we entered a tasting room, with a dozen or so bottles of different kinds.

I was invited to taste from most of those, each offering a completely different flavour. From the average 15% alcohol, to a diluted 10%, an undiluted 19% (STRONG), and even a rose sake, which I hadn’t seen before.

“After drinking sake, Japanese people eat ice cream,” the CEO said in the end, and handed me one.

He also gave me a handmade ceramic glass as a present.

I’d given both guys my favourite Japanese snack (?????). Needless to say, it couldn’t compare.

Capsule Hotel

In the afternoon, the lawyer drove us back to Sendai. The downpour was so bad, that we couldn’t see anything. I recalled my friend warning me last night about the looming typhoon, and fancied to see one.

Yet Sendai was sunny. At 16:30, the lawyer dropped me off at the futuristic and upscale capsule hotel.

Clean, quiet, white, gray. Huge, private shower rooms, and restrooms with the most advanced toilets. The self-rising lid, for example… an absolute treat.

I grabbed my laptop, went to my sleeping pod, and discovered my charger had broken. A few days before I had to start working remotely.

Great.

7/11 didn’t have any laptop chargers. Neither did Donki.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Donki, the only place in Sapporo where I could find a suitcase, back in February.

I found a computer shop near the station who said the same as Donki: Japan didn’t hold chargers for British laptops.

Nevertheless, my laptop could be charged using USB-C, which I’d never tried before.

It worked. Thank god. And it only cost me more than a night at a hostel.

This frantic search for a new charger took up my entire evening. At night, I tried to look for a bus to a mountain I’d been itching to visit since February. Three buses ran from three different stations. The only free one ran twice a day; the only one without schedule online.

Intensive Googling yielded the bus schedule on a Japanese website. Of course. English was no good in the countryside.

After writing about the past week for too long, instead of getting adequate sleep (my life summed up in one sentence), I showered and went to bed. With the enormous, private shower, toilet with self-rising lid, self-flushing function, and the most advanced washlet, not to mention the wide sleeping pod, comfortable pillow and mattress – I felt cosy and content to return to this capsule hotel. It had cost a third of tonight’s rate back in February – back then, only a fraction more than a hostel in Korea – but even now, in the high season, it was worth the money.

Today marked six months of traveling.

Things I missed about Japan:

• People exchanging business cards
• NIHONSHU (Japanese sake)

Today’s highlights: umen for lunch (particularly that walnut sauce); the tour of the sake factory (particularly the tastings afterwards); everything in the capsule hotel.

10 August 2023

• 9:10-10:10 Sendai station to Yamadera station train (Senzan line)
• Yamadera temple (1h)
• 12:10-12:25 Yamadera station to Yamagata station train, 13:04-13:12 bullet train to Kaminoyama Onsen station, 13:25-14:15 free shuttle bus from Kaminoyama Onsen tourist information center to Okama crater (the only one that is free)
• Okama crater (1h)
• 15:30-16:30 Okama crater to Kaminoyama Onsen station free shuttle bus
• Old torii
• 20:35-22:05 Yamagata Station to Sendai Station train (Senzan line)

Yama-dera Temple

I slept less than six hours, and rushed to the train station. Busy day ahead.

First stop: Yamadera temple. On my list since February, when the Singaporean guy from Lake Akan had told me he’d climbed the temple’s 1,000 steps in August.

It wasn’t on my itinerary for this trip, but after the mixed guy from Osore-zan had visited it yesterday, he’d convinced me to follow suit. Plus, it was on the way to my main attraction.

I spent the 1-hour ride reading pamphlets from tourist information centers I’d accumulated in the past week in Tohoku. The region had so much to offer, that I could spend two months here. I’s assumed the entire month of August would suffice, but my list grew longer and longer. Still, a car was required for most activities.

The ascent took me twenty hot minutes. Worse than the 500 steps of Kamikura shrine in Shingu. By now, the cacophony of crickets had become an omnipresent soundtrack to my trip.

I spotted the American guy from Sendai while climbing. He didn’t notice me. I didn’t say hi.

But anyway – it was a beautiful day, green and blue. Clear sky and a breathtaking mountain view. The small village underneath the temple. A huge golden Buddha inside the main hall. It was very peaceful and very cicada-y up there, but other than making it to the top and praying (which, despite my qualms, I did), there wasn’t much else to do.

In the past week, several Japanese people had inquired after my religion. Upon remarking that I wasn’t religious, and preferred Buddhism over Judaism, they’d said that they hadn’t even identified with the former. All were atheists.

Was this the reason why Japan was paradise to me? As someone who blamed religion for most of humanity’s problems, I rejoiced in Japan’s aversion to it. Maybe that was the root cause for my liking of their mentality. Religious people saw the world differently. In my opinion, they emphasized respect toward a god too much to leave room for respect toward each other.

All in all, Yamadera took me one hour: 20 minutes up, 20 minutes at the temple, 20 minutes down. I’d assumed it would take two hours, so thankfully, I had enough time to eat breakfast at the station. Yet there was no konbini or kiosks to buy more food to fill me up.

Okama Crater

I took the train to Kaminoyama Onsen station. When the shuttle bus to my next destination arrived to the tourist information center, the staff went outside and waved at the passengers.

????????they said.

The shuttle bus was tiny, and so, on weekends and holidays, might not meet the demand. Today, however, there were only six passengers, in addition to me.

My original plan was to climb to the crater for 30 minutes. But the bus turned out to leave not enough time for that. I had to pay for a chairlift.

Which was so fun! Probably my first one. The wind was blowing. The sun blazing on the nape of my neck.

No one was climbing anyway. I didn’t see a trail.

The weather was perfect. The mixed guy had visited Okama yesterday, while I was in Shiroishi; he’d chanced upon too foggy and windy a weather. Most of the time, the crater was completely shrouded to him. He’d urged me not visit Okama today, but it ended up being worth the long public transportation there.

I explored Okama with a Malaysian tourist who’d come to research trucks in Japan using chemical equipment. I couldn’t really get to the bottom of what exactly she was conducting. But curious nonetheless.

The lake glimmered emerald and the crater was vivid with colors. Hues of brown and green. A tiny shrine at the top. Signs warning against bears.

It was ridiculously windy, and my eardrums hurt a little. The altitude was 1,670 meters; we were on par with the clouds.

The bus ran for only one last time, so near the end, we dashed down to the chairlift and made it to the bus at the last minute. One hour up the mountain wasn’t enough; an hour and a half would’ve been better. But we’d still gotten what we’d wanted.

Kaminoyama Onsen

I spent the afternoon and evening with a Japanese guy from Yamagata. He took me in his car from Kaminoyama Onsen station to Kaminoyama castle – tiny yet white, reminiscent of Hirosaki castle, the first one I’d seen in Japan. Last year, Kaminoyama Castle’s white exterior was repainted.

From there, we drove to a tiny shrine featuring one of the oldest torii gates in Japan, from 1109 BC.

It stood in the middle of a tiny village, deep in the Yamagata prefecture countryside. We were the only ones around. Rural houses surrounded it. Imagine having an ancient torii in your front yard.

(I couldn’t find information about it later online. Probably one of those attractions only locals knew about. The guy was from this area.)

After an enjoyable evening together, he dropped me off at Yamagata station.

“There aren’t many people in Yamagata,” he said as he drove through the dark steeets. “It’s not a dangerous place. The most dangerous thing is bears.”

He’d seen a bear one day on the way to elementary school.

I returned to my capsule hotel and spent some time with a Chinese tourist who also stayed there. At 2:00, I crashed on my sleeping pod’s mattress.

Things I missed about Japan:

• Staff waving goodbye and wishing goers safe travels

Things I did not miss about Japan:

• Minuscule countryside towns having zero convenience stores

Today’s highlights: climbing a thousand steps for a beautiful mountain view; riding a chairlift; the colors of Okama crater; the ancient torii gate.

11 August 2023

• 9:35-10:10 Sendai station to Ichinoseki station bullet train, 10:20-11:45 Ichinoseki station to Kesennuma station local train 
• Short time in Kesennuma
• 12:25-13:45 Kesennuma station to Ichinoseki station train, 14:00-14:40 Ichinoseki station to Morioka station bullet train
• Mitsuishi shrine (~10 minutes)

Kesennuma

I woke before my alarm, groggy and exhausted. After the euphoria of the first few days in Japan, and a good night’s sleep at my Tokyo friend’s, the last few nights had broken the pattern.

Then I saw that the train to my next destination would depart in either half an hour, or three hours.

Panic. I jumped out of my sleeping pod, shoved everything into my luggage, checked out, and rushed to the train station, without eating, drinking, looking in the mirror, or brushing my teeth.

I made it just in time to buy a farewell-to-Sendai zunda shake and board the bullet train.

During the long ride to Kesennuma, I read about the town, and realized I wouldn’t have enough time to explore its ruins. They were too far from the station. The town was badly hit by the 2011 earthquake. As always with the countryside, proper planning (and a car) were required for proper exploration.

Upon alighting in Kesennuma, I learned three things.

1. The tourist information centre confirmed my doubts: the touristic attractions were in the port area, far from the station. No sightseeing for me.
2. Pikachu seemed to be the unofficial mascot of the town and its area, with posters and statues everywhere. A nice surprise for a Pokémon diehard fan like me.
3. The local specialty was shark meat. The fish market was renowned in Japan for using every part of the shark’s body for production of food. I bought dried shark fin Turkey for my next couchsurfing host.

Apart from that, I only had time to pose in front of the town’s sign with my Ainu necklace (the Lake Akan shopowner had craved my name in kanji on February 14; I’d been wearing it ever since). A shame I couldn’t spend a night at this town, but my brief time here was worth the 4-hour detour.

At Ichinoseki station, I encountered a rare zunda chocolate bar, and immediately bought a couple. At 13:55, I had my first bite of the day.

Morioka

At Morioka station, I spoke to a tourist information lady who was shocked to hear I’d be in Morioka for so many days. She spent forever trying to fill my time here with as many attractions as possible. This was a bit challenging, since Morioka was good probably for one day.

In January 2023, the New York Times had picked Morioka as one of its 52 Places to Go in 2023 (second only to London). It was a hidden gem, full of traditional architecture and modern, Western-influenced buildings. And more things, which I’d get to later on.

The tourist information lady went on for so long, that I apologized and cut her short at some point; I was supposed to meet my new couch-surfing host.

I turned around and saw a guy standing next to me.

“Kesem-san?” he asked.

It was my host.

How long had he been standing there? I’d made him wait. Damn. How did he know to find me there?

Five o’clock goatee, short hair, beauty spots; a kind face, and a bright, childlike smile. He was two years younger than me.

He drove us in his car – a fancy-looking, squeaky-clean, stick-shift Subaru with a sunroof. The front mirror was actually a screen with a camera recording all the while.

We strolled around the center of Morioka and discussed it.

“This is the countryside, so –”

“What?” I interrupted. “But it’s classified as a city.”

Yet the more we walked, the more I realized places closed here at 16:00, and no one was out and about. Empty and quiet.

If a city centre in Japan had no trains, could be crossed in fifteen minutes on foot, its places closed early, its people didn’t walk around, there were minimal streetlamps, and you couldn’t survive there without a car, it was the countryside.

(Just like my year of living in Norwich, a small, medieval town, technically a city and the capital of East Anglia.)

What they did have here, however, just like anywhere else, was those loud election cars.

I’d encountered those first in April, in Kyoto. Representatives of candidates driving around, yelling fast slogans and thanks on a megaphone. One of the only things I hated about Japan.

I had omelette rice soup for late lunch at a random café that happened to be open; he just drank tea. Still, he insisted on paying, even though I tried to fight him.

“No, no, they don’t accept foreign credit cards in the countryside,” he said.

The restaurant owner smiled in understanding and said that my host was right.

Mitsuishi Shrine

We walked around and visited Mitsuishi (“Three Rocks”) shrine, AKA Oni-no-tegata (“Demon’s Handprint”). A miniscule shrine with three boulders that allegedly touched by a demon.

We couldn’t spot any handprints.

It was his first time at this shrine, even though he’d lived his entire life a walking distance from it.

“Maybe this explains why I never came here,” he said.

Instead, the shrine explained the origin of Iwate prefecture’s name.

According to the legend, in the olden days, a demon called Rasetsu had plagued this village. The residents had prayed to the god, who had defeated Rasetsu. Per the god’s demand, Rasetsu put his handprint on one of the rocks, to prove his promise to leave this village forever. “Iwate” means “rock hand” in Japanese. The Sansa Odori dance (from the festival I’d participated in) was the villagers’ way of thanking the god.

Afterwards, we drove to his studio apartment. Everything about it was as smart as him. The lock opened with his smartwatch; a Google assistant controlled the lights. It was spacious, clean, organized, and neat; the best of my Japanese hosts, thus far. He apologized that it was small.

The more I spent time with him, the more I learned about his interesting characteristics. He’d studied English lit in university, and now worked in finance. A tale as old as time.

He’d also spent a year studying how to teach Japanese, sleeping for four hours a day, and accumulating a vocabulary rivalled perhaps only by my Sendai host’s. There was nothing in Japanese he didn’t know.

Last but not least, I found him to be the definition of. ???. Kind; gentle; amiable?. Polite and pleasant. No less than the prime example of a Japanese. All of this, not to mention the fact that he’d agreed to host me during Obon, one of the most important holidays in Japan. Everyone was spending time with their family, yet he had accepted a stranger into his home and hung out with me. Tomorrow, he’d take me in his car to somewhere special, long on my list.

Morioka Reimen

In the evening, we went grocery shopping, to cook Reimen in his apartment. One of the Three Great Noodles of Morioka.

Reimen was a cold noodle dish actually based on a Korean dish. Thin noodles with toppings of cucumber, kimchee, and a soft-boiled egg (also watermelon, which we hadn’t bought). While preparing it, he put two bowls in the fridge, because the dish tasted better this way.

He then put on relaxing jazz music, and taught me plenty of words.

The Reimen was so delicious and mouthwatering, with a beautiful, deep orange broth, refreshing for summer, that it became one of my favourite dishes.

Afterwards, he let me try from the shark turkey I’d gifted him. It was salty and dry.

I slept on a thin couch that opened to a mattress, with the softest blanket. 

Things I missed about Japan:

• Pikachu gracing trains and train stations
• Japanese people meeting me, then immediately picking me up, paying for our meal, and inviting me to their home

Things I did not miss about Japan:

• ELECTION CARS

Today’s highlights: zunda shake; stamping my journal with three different Pikachu stamps at three train stations (Kesennuma, Ichinoseki, Morioka); visiting a place reminiscent of my name; omelette rice; Morioka Reimen.

Stray observations:

• Starbucks in Sendai used to have zunda Frappuccino, which was allegedly even better than zunda shake. And to think I’d eaten breakfast at the Starbucks next door to my capsule hotel on February 22^nd…
• If Japanese guys dress like Korean guys – e.g. short shorts – they are always athletic and tanned.
• Apparently, some books from the Meiji period were written right to left. An ojiisan showed me one he was reading on the train to Kesennuma. It was very confusing to follow.
• Japanese people brush their teeth for what seems like forever. Every host in Japan was like this.
• They always blow dry their hair right after showering.

12 August 2023

• 9:30-11:00 drive to Nyuto Onsen
• Tsuru-no-yu (1.5h)
• Tazawa lake (~30m)

Nyuto Onsen

My host cooked breakfast for us – broccoli, sunny side up, and anpan from the grocery store. At 9:30, we hit the road.

Morioka was so foggy, that we couldn’t see anything. An insane, dangerous downpour.

After a long and unnerving drive through gorgeous valleys, we approached Nyuto Onsen. One of the most famous and celebrated hot spring resorts in Japan, deep in nature. 

It was sunny.

“It’s because we went to a shrine yesterday,” I joked.

Yesterday was 33 degrees. Today, a comfortable 22.

We drove to the best, most famous, and most secluded of the Nyuto onsens, called Tsuru-no-yu.

According to the legend, an injured crane (“tsuru” in Japanese) had bathed there. The onsen’s healing properties had become so famous, that even Yoshitaka Satake, the lord of Akita, had visited it in 1638.

Tsuru-no-yu was a honjin (an Edo-period dwelling for high-ranking Shogunate officials), with thatched roofs, thick wooden beams, and small rooms with irori. (No toilet or bathroom – in ancient ryokans in Japan, facilities were shared.)

It was probably the most popular day of the year there, being both summer vacation and Obon. The baskets inside the men’s changing rooms were all taken; we waited a few minutes in line. But it wasn’t disgustingly crowded. There was order and quiet. And this was still a faraway onsen few ventured into.

Based on the licence plates of the other visitors’ cars, most had come from Akita and Morioka, though we did spot people from Hokkaido, Tokyo, Nagoya, Osaka, and even Fukuoka. The latter must’ve taken them a two-day drive.

As soon as we entered the onsen, it started raining. Thus, we started off with the indoor baths.

Small, rustic cabin, and acidic, 7.0-pH, milky white water. Heaven.

The second bath was probably 48-50 degrees hot. As hot as hot springs in Japan got. Just like the one in Hida Onsen, except that one was open-air, so more tolerable. Here, one minute was all I could muster.

It was raining all the while, yet somehow sunny at the same time. Lots of bugs buzzing outside, such as bees, wasps, and dragonflies.

Oddly enough, this was only my second time going to an onsen with someone I knew, rather than by myself (first was my last onsen in Round One – April 15, Hida Onsen, with an Israeli tourist I’d met on the way there). Moreover, this was my first time with a Japanese person.

After a short while, the rain stopped. We moved to the rotenburo. Probably the biggest one I’d been to in Japan.

As soon we entered, I felt bubbles coming up from below. I shoved my hands and feet into the pure-black stones and felt the hot ground. We might’ve been directly above the source of the hot spring.

Feet hot, body warm, water milky. It was indeed one of the best onsen experience Japan could offer.

After some time, though, my host rightfully pointed out that onsens eventually got boring. You simply soaked there and waited for time to move on.

So at 12:30, we left Nyuto Onsen, again crossing a narrow, winding, slightly alarming gravel path inside a forest. Back on the highway, the road grew rainy and foggy again.

Lake Tazawa

My host suggested visiting lake Tazawa next, which, like Okama lake, shimmered emerald. The weather had cleared up here as well.

A golden statue of Tatsuko stood on the shore. According to the legend, she was a young woman who’d yearned to preserve her youthful beauty. Praying night and night, a god eventually instructed her to drink from a hot spring. Yet she’d gorged herself on the water, and ended up transforming into a dragon. Now, she guarded the lake. 

At 14:30, getting quite hungry, we drove to lake Tazawa station for an udon restaurant. I was so sleepy by this point, that I almost fell asleep. But we both ate a delicious Inaniwa udon, Akita’s specialty, made of thin, silky noodles.

Temaki Sushi

As we drove back to Morioka, we entered a storm. My first time seeing lightning and hearing thunder since January, in Israel. A penetrating fog and a flash flood. It was a challenging and slightly unnerving drive.

Eventually, we returned to his apartment, safe and sound. The time was 16:30. The election cars were still running, even in this weather. Japanese people worked hard.

We both dozed off after getting back, me until 19:00, longer than him. When was the last time I’d napped during the day? This past week had me collapsing.

For dinner, we went grocery shopping, found incredibly cheap sashimi (50% discount!), and made temaki (“hand roll”) sushi.

It was one of the most memorable meals of my trip. Making sushi for the first time in Japan, and with a new friend. More enjoyable than sitting at a restaurant. I savoured each bite and every preparation for it. Added wasabi and nattou and soy sauce. Soft piano music – not sad, for once – playing on his speakers. He saw me indulging, and took plenty of videos and photos.

Throughout the day, whenever I’d suggested taking his photo, he’d said he was embarrassed. He reminded me of the French guy from Seoul. And of me at 26. With an early bedtime and awareness of sleep hygiene, we’d shared a few things in common. Funny, how I kept discovering Japanese couch-surfing hosts around my age who resembled me.

Things I missed about Japan:

• Packing stations inside grocery stores
• Seeing guys and girls with pastel-dyed hair

Stray observations:

• Japanese dentists recommend five minutes of brushing. Israeli dentists have always instructed me to brush for 1.5-2 minutes.
• Does NewDays have a monopoly over Tohoku train stations? It’s the only chain of convenience stores I see inside them.
• I love the giant chopsticks people in the far East use when cooking, instead of a spatula.
• Japanese guys consume half the water and food I need in order to make it to the next day.
• None of the Japanese guys I’d couchsurfed at or my Japanese friends own Japanese clothes. Only western clothes. I have a samue, a jinbei, and a yukata. They keep saying I’m more Japanese than them.