If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing.

Blasie Pascal, “Pascal’s Pensées”

3 April 2023

• 7:30-8:00 Ochiai to Kazurabashi taxi, 8:10-8:35 Kazurabashi to Oboke station bus, 8:50-10:35 Oboke to Okayama station limited express, 11:10-12:18 Okayama to Aioi station, 12:20-12:50 Aioi to Himeji station
• Himeji castle (30m for West Bailey, 2h for Main Keep)
• Koko-en Garden (45m)
• Early dinner: Champon-yaki + Doro-yaki @ Nanpu

Farewell to the Valley

This morning, I had an awful nightmare. I entered a movie theatre and sat behind Joaquin Phoenix. He looked really scary, and I realised he was playing the role of a maniac. He unleashed monstrous snakes at me and various wild animals that chased me outside and started a riot. People were fleeing hysterically and fighting in vain, until everyone died.

The wife delivered me from my misery when she woke me at 6:00. It was so cold, that the fabric of my essentials pouch was damp.

Breakfast was soon served. More tomatoes and sausages. We watched baseball (a Shohei match, of course). I kept asking when the sun would come out, because it was already light, yet the mountains were blocking it.

I helped the wife fold back the futon. In the alcove, I noticed two real katana swords and a fake plastic gun.

Soon the time to head out arrived. I gave the couple my only two souvenirs – yokan (sweet bean jelly, a local specialty) and a human-carrot puppet from Nagoro. I felt bad about giving them souvenirs from their own area, but this was all I had.

The woman gave me a bottle of mountain water and some chocolate peanuts in return.

I watched the sun rise over the nearby mountain on the way out. It was amazing how it did that. Someday, it would cease to.

They escorted me down to the taxi through their garden. It was quiet and pastoral.

“Are there any wild animals here?” I asked.

“Monkeys, deer, and rabbits,” the woman said. “But it’s not dangerous.”

Near the taxi, I thanked them from the bottom of my heart, and bowed a full ninety degrees. This took them by surprise.

On the way back to Nishi-Iya, the taxi driver asked me about words in Hebrew and Japanese that sounded the same, but differed in meaning. I gave him a few examples.

Suddenly, we saw a monkey on the road running uphill. Its back looked just like the animal I’d seen enter a bush in Goishi-zan.

The taxi cost as much as my nightly budget for accommodation, so I didn’t really end up saving money, except perhaps on food.

I left Iya Valley already nostalgic. This place was one-of-a-kind, like no other on this planet. I’d come expecting an adventure, and left after ticking that box. Not everything worked out, and I didn’t get to see Mt Tsurugi, but I’d hiked enough mountains in the past few weeks. (Plus, the long, straight trail up the hill, entirely under the sun, seemed boring.)

Iya became an instant addition to my list of favourite places in Japan. I would miss the charming, albeit frustrating, small town tiny villages vibe. From here on, I’d be surrounded by crowds.

After taking the bus to Oboke station, I needed to pay at the coin lockers for the two extra days of storage. They only accepted 100-yen coins. No shop was open (one grocery store, one liquer store). I asked the four passengers around for change; one obliged. Five minutes later, the limited express bound for Okayama arrived.

ぎりぎりね。。。

At Okayama station, I could’ve boarded a beloved Shinkansen, but chose two slow, local trains instead, which were thrice the time, and half the cost.

After 5.5 hours of travel, I’d made it to my next destination: Himeji.

Himeji Castle

First order of business – the tourist information centre. They didn’t really tell me something I hadn’t known. Like Okayama, the castle was the main attraction.

I could see it from the station: a 1-km walk straight all the way. My hotel was situated between the two, so I stopped by to leave my luggage.

Was there a better place for me to stay in Himeji? I wasn’t sure. Having booked it months in advance, it was relatively cheap, compared to its yield: a large room ~10m walk from the station, ~3m walk from the castle. The price was double or even triple now.

I changed the clothes I’d been wearing for three days, took considerable weight off my shoulders, and headed outside. Time was of the essence.

My original plan was to do… something on this day. Either explore more of Iya Valley, or stop along the way to Himeji in Kurashiki (which I’d missed when I’d stayed in Okayama) or Kojima (Japan’s jeans capital). I chose to do Himeji today rather than tomorrow, so as to leave more time for my next destination.

I had to be quick, though, if I wanted to tick all my boxes in Himeji today.

So I bought a snack – Akashi-yaki, a local specialty: Takoyaki dipped in sauce and dashi. Then, green dango. The rest of the food stalls en route to the castle served meat.

At 14:15, I entered the castle. I’d never seen so many cherry blossoms at once. The grounds were replete with them, in addition to people. Strolling, doing hanami, taking photos, playing ball.

After waking this morning in a hidden village inhabited by twenty elders, I’d arrived at one of the most popular day trips in Japan. Himeji was the most famous castle in Japan, and today was peak blossoms.

With my green bucket hat and Luigi bag, pink T-shirt, and blue bag and jeans, I felt right in place, as if I were the embodiment of the Japanese spring: blue, green, and pink.

The castle huge and white as snow. Nicknamed the White Heron Castle, due to its white plasters. Even from afar, it was a sight to behold.

I opted for the long route that started in the West Bailey. Finally, an original castle with a preserved interior, which required taking off shoes.

The wooden floor, ever creaking, was so cool under my feet, that I added it to my wishlist for my dream house.

The bailey presented excellent explanations about the castle and its history. I wrote down a LOT of information, all of which got deleted. Here was what I remembered.

• The Bailey served as the ladies’ chambers. Thus, it was fortified with a huge, heavy, and sturdy door.
• The castle was comprised of one main keep, and three minor ones.
• The main keep had two columns, made of trees transported from the Kiso Mountains in the Alps. One broke along the way. The eastern column, however, was erected from a single tree trunk.
• Himeji enjoyed three layers of defence: the outer city, the middle neighbourhood where samurai lived, and the city centre with the castle.
• From the outside, the castle appeared to have 5 floors, yet inside were seven, including a basement.
• Out of a few hundred roof tiles, one was laid upside down. It bore the symbol of a clan for some reason. No one knew why.
• Most castles had plasters on the exterior. Himeji was exceptional in its double coating. White plaster was chosen due to its relative resistance to fire and durability against wet rot.
• In 1945, air raids by the American army bombed the city. The castle emerged largely unscathed. It was camouflaged with a cover, so as to not attract the army’s attention. After the war, it was renovated alongside the city.

After the Bailey, I entered the main keep. There were so many visitors, that entry was announced to end earlier than scheduled.

I didn’t mind the huge crowds, because it was so orderly. We entered through the basement and climbed floor after floor. It was extremely windy up there. I saw lots of weapon racks.

The long waiting lines in the upper floors made me think about time, and how this trip was past its midpoint. I started freaking out and worrying what would happen to my life afterwards. When this trip would be over, my life felt like it would as well.

The view from the top was phenomenal. The city was just what I liked. Himeji, Matsumoto, Okayama, even Norwich in the UK: all medium-sized cities with parks, rivers, medium-sized buildings, a centre that could be traversed in fifteen minutes, and a castle as their main attraction. I didn’t have a type when it came to art or people, but I guessed I did when it came to a place of residence. Something just in the middle between urban and rural.

After two hours, I headed outside. Himeji was considered Japan’s finest, most beautiful castle. I agreed.

Koko-en Garden

At 16:15, I managed to squeeze in Koko-en, a small garden right next to it that would close at 17:00. Two small waterfalls; bridges; ponds with carps and ducks; cherry trees, maples, bamboos, roses, and a garden of seeds – this was cute for a short while. (If you bought a ticket to the castle, adding this garden cost 50 yen.)

Having only eaten breakfast, takoyaki, and dango, I was again starving. I looked for more street food, but didn’t find any new options.

I returned to the hotel for a closer look at the tourist information center’s map, which detailed quite a few local specialties. It mentioned a variant of Okonomiyaki. Perfect: something cheap and heavy. I asked hotel staff for a recommendation.

“Go straight all the way until the train station for a place called Nanpu,” he said, and showed me the direction outside the hotel. Easy to navigate.

Himeji Specilaties for Dinner

At 17:50, I arrived at Nanpu. There was a waiting time of 30-60m, yet no waiting area. They asked for my phone number instead.

I found a place to sit near the station and wrote for twenty minutes, until I got the call.

Inside the restaurant, I was the only foreigner. There was no English menu. I wrote so feverishly in my journal for another twenty minutes, that I didn’t order anything, and held out the table. Felt bad.

First dish: Champon-yaki, a local variation of Okonomiyaki. It was more like fried soba and udon noodles with cabbage and a hint of Okonomoiyaki sauce. Good, but not very heavy. I was still hungry.

Second dish: Doro-yaki, another local specialty. Basically, a thick onion and onion omelette. YUM.

Belly full, I returned to my hotel for a jacket, and continued to the castle for the night illuminations. My camera disappointed me again; it couldn’t convey the beauty of the lighting.

I could’ve bought a separate ticket for the illuminated cherry blossoms inside the keep (it wasn’t too pricey, even though the night illuminations last month in Kanazawa’s Kenrokuen were free), but didn’t find it worthwhile.

The dark sky and bright full moon. Illuminated cherry petals falling to the ground. City lights being reflected on the river. People having picnics even at this time. I felt too melancholic to continue wandering, and returned to my room for a hot bath.

I thought about my past, present, and future. The latter alarmed me so much, that I didn’t want it.

After my crash and fear in Shodoshima, I realised something. Worrying about my present was easier for me than worrying about my future. I would take life-or-death experiences on a regular basis rather than panic about my lack of prospects. Better to fear for your life than for your pocket, I figured. Better to enter survival mode than to sink into a humdrum routine.

At this point, I had nothing left to lose.

I hated myself for needing money, but hated humanity more for forcing this need on me. I hated myself for needing people, but hated people more for their apathy. I hated myself for my hatred, and this love/hate relationship. It felt more dialectic than complimentary.

Navigating life had always felt to me like crossing a two-way, one-lane street, which had been split into two. I’d assumed people would on my lane, next to me or in the opposite direction. Instead, they chose the other lane.

It was hard to meet someone in the middle.

I checked my account balance for the first time in a few weeks, and experienced the distress I was desperate to eschew. When I opened my computer to document all this, I discovered everything I’d written since coming to Iya Valley had been deleted.

Today’s highlights: watching the sunrise; seeing a monkey; Himeji Castle (particularly the wooden floor and cherry blossoms); eating Champon-yaki and Doro-yaki.

4 April 2023

• First breakfast: fruit, almond toast, and almond au lait @ Tairiku
• Second breakfast: almond toast @ Hamamoto Coffee
• 10:30-12:10 Himeji station to Kyoto station rapid train, 12:50-13:05 Kyoto station to Kawaramachi Matsubara bus, 13:20-13:50 Shijo-Kawaramachi to Ginkakuji temple bus
• Ginkakuji temple (Silver Pavilion) (20m)
• Philosopher’s Path (40m)
• 15:25-16:25 Shinnyodo-mae to Kita Oji bus terminal bus, 16:35-17:05 Kita Oji to Gion bus (basically a waste of two hours)
• Yasaka shrine + Maruyama Park (1h)
• 18:10-18:40 Gion to Shokobutsuen-mae bus
• Kyoto botanical garden (1h)
• 19:55-20:05 Shokobutsuen-mae to Kawaramachi Matsubara

Himeji Specilaties for Breakfast

Yesterday I’d intended to start the day early, so as to make it to Kyoto before noon. After Word decided not to save (or autosave a backup of) my writing, I grew too vexed to go to sleep. I wrote down as much as I recalled, and finished at 1:30.

At 8:00, I jumped out of bed, rushed to get dressed, and pack all my belongings. Then I walked a mere hundred meters down the street to Tairiku, the oldest retro cafe in Himeji.

Dark brown wooden walls. Renaissance lamps. A ship steering wheel hanging in the back. A stone floor. Retro vibe indeed.

I was the only customer there. Most of the menu didn’t have an English translation. I ordered an almond toast (a local specialty – almond butter on a toast) with fruit and an almond au lait.

It was the most delicious toast I’d had. The coffee gave matcha latte a run for its money. This breakfast was so good, that I wanted to live in Himeji, to have it every day.

Sad piano music was playing. It had been a while. Sitting alone in a cafe that felt imported from a European ship built in the 18th century, I tried to process the last few days, and their hard moments.

I returned to my hotel to grab my luggage and check out. The toast was so delicious that I visited another cafe, one minute from the first one, for another slice.

Hamamoto Coffee wasn’t as retro, though better known for its coffee. More laboratory than European ship, it featured volumetric flasks and all sort of chemical equipment at the bar. It was so well-known, that it was full to the brim with diners.

While waiting for my toast, I examined my proposed itinerary for Kyoto. Before this trip, I’d grouped the attractions I’d found interesting based on proximity and location.

Now, the early blooming period had thrown everything off. I decided to visit three famous cherry spots today, despite their distance from each other.

The toast I’d gotten half an hour later was smaller, a tad more expensive, but with almonds on top, which made it even tastier.

Kyoto

Stomach full of butter and white flour, I walked to the train station. I chose a rapid train to Kyoto over a Shinkansen, yet again. I was risking not making it to some cherry spots today, but my account balance from last night kept flashing in my head.

The train departed ten minutes behind schedule.

In the forty minutes I spent on the platform squashed by a rush-hour crowd, I noticed no more than three foreigners. Everyone else was Japanese.

I felt more comfortable being the odd one here than in Israel.

Himeji could easily be done as a day trip from Osaka or Kyoto, or as a stopover en route to Hiroshima. This was what the vast majority of tourists did. Yet I found staying here a decent idea, because it had allowed me to enjoy the various local specialties, in addition to seeing the castle at night.

The train ride was awful. Slow, sardine-like, and full of concern about Kyoto’s withering cherry blossoms and my looming future. I sat on an auxiliary seat, which wasn’t too kind to the homo sapien back. Then I wrote all this down, and once again found it therapeutic.

First stop: tourist… information… centre. The first time I’d seen one with a long line.

I could already tell I’d arrived at a place completely different than the one I started yesterday morning at.

While my hands were again swamped with pamphlets and maps, I also did some blitzing on my own, asking a gazillion questions about Kyoto’s best cherry spots and their stage of decay. Two staff members helped me at some point. They gave me a list of every spot in the city (both daytime and nighttime viewing) and its updated status of bloom.

My never-ending inquiry exasperated them at some point. They probably weren’t used to tourists asking so many questions in broken Japanese.

After settling on an itinerary for the rest of the day, I rushed to the bus to Kawaramachi, the city’s main street, where I would spend the next ten nights. There were people everywhere.

How could I go from a minuscule, rural area with a select few loyal elders, zero people, shops, buses, restaurants, and accommodations, to such a bustling city full of both Japanese and foreigners alike, of all ages, in a little over twenty-four hours?

Yesterday I woke in an old’s couple home in the middle of nowhere, on Japan’s smallest of the four main islands, and watched the sun rise over the mountains. Today, at noon, I was at arguably Japan’s number one destination.

So how could I describe Kyoto? A lot of buildings. Many old, rather than cutting-edge. No skyscrapers. Cherry trees well past their peak.

I saw a few white people in kimonos. Then I saw a bunch of Japanese people clad in them.

In the background, the view of the surrounding mountains was ever-present.

After depositing my luggage at the reception, I rushed to the bus. It was crowded, hot, and smelly.

I didn’t even bother taking off my jacket. My three spots for today were already withering. I was adamant to see them all today. No food, water, or toilet for me.

Ginkaku-ji Temple

I started off at the Silver Pavilion. A place I hadn’t found worthy enough of including on my list. The tourist information centre (and the Osaka guest from Shimanami Kaido) urged me to go there. Okay.

The garden was small but pretty. I didn’t enter the temple – for that, I would’ve had to wait half an hour for a half-hour guided tour – and preferred to leave more time for Sakura instead.

The Ginsyadan sand layer at the entrance was cool. That was it.

Zero explanations about the place. Nothing to do except walk along the set path, take photos, and move on. I’d had feeling this wouldn’t be worthwhile.  

The view of the city from atop a hill was beautiful. But apart from aesthetic, the place held little value to me.

The pavilion wasn’t even silver. Was I colourblind? It looked white.

I bought a stamp in spite of my bitterness at coming here, and left.

Philosopher’s Path

Near the Silver Pavilion was what I’d come to this area for: Philosopher’s Path. A relaxing walking trail for locals, lined with cherry blossoms in spring, fireflies in summer, red leaves in fall, and snow in winter. The name stemmed from its use by a couple of famous philosophers who had crossed it on their way to Kyoto University.

Languishing petals or not, it was as gorgeous as I’d expected it to be, being one of Kyoto’s most famous cherry blossom spots. I could understand why it was such a beloved path for a stroll.

Petals were falling everywhere. It felt magical, especially after the disappointing temple.

The path was surprisingly quiet and tranquil – a small neighbourhood atmosphere, with small cafes. Full of visitors, but charming at the same time. I would’ve loved to have come here in every season. To wander and think and eat and hang out.

The street next to the path was deserted. How odd. From an enchanting, popular trail, to a nondescript, empty city.

That was where I boarded the bus to my next cherry blossom spot: Kyoto Botanical Gardens. Very cheap, not very well-known, and in full bloom, it seemed like the perfect next stop.

En route, I realised I’d ridden the loop bus headed in the opposite, longer way. Instead of taking 25 minutes, and making it ten minutes before the ticket office would close at 16:00, it would take me more than an hour and a half.

The detour felt endless. I grew mad at myself for making such a mistake that cost me hours. I was starving, having not eaten anything in seven hours, and angry at climate change for disrupting blooming cycles and ruining the planet and my plans. I was mad at passengers for taking forever to get on and off, at the traffic and existence of private cars, and this bus ride costing me money for nothing, and food for costing money. I’d been eating half of what my stomach required every day on this trip, going to bed hungry on a regular basis, because I’d already reached my daily budget. Judging by my account balance from last night, I was way past it.

The bus driver asked the passengers to change to a different bus no less than two times. This aggravated my anger even more. The fact that this line wasn’t direct, and the frustrating traffic, and the slowness of people. I grew mad at people for being annoying pieces of shit, careless and apathetic, and didn’t wish to talk to anyone – just see pink petals falling and reaching the end of their life, like my trip would sooner or later do, and some day, my existence, too.

I thought about every single person I’d ever met. No one cared, at the end of the day. They acted like they did, but they didn’t. People cared about themselves. We hadn’t reached a state of inter-subjectivity as a species yet.

This wasn’t a new insight, but a disappointment that had left a bitter taste in my mouth ever since childhood. It simply baffled me every time.

Maybe I’d always been gullible enough to forget it. Maybe I’d been too optimistic to ignore it. People could place sculptures on the edge of cliffs high up in the mountains, but they could also be monsters.

I promised myself to never forget it again. To never invest in someone who wouldn’t invest in me. To never care about those who would never care about me as much I did about them.

I no longer wished to speak to anyone I’d ever known. Nor inhabit a space I’d found familiar.

At Kita Oku bus terminal, I gave up on the Botanical Gardens, and headed to my third cherry blossoms spot instead.

Yasaka Shrine and Maruyama Park

Yasaka shrine’s formidable red gate stood at the entrance. Inside, pandemonium.

Narrow alleys with street food and too many people for one to stand still on their spot. I got cheese hashimaki – my first bite in eight hours – a delicious, new favourite of mine. Basically, a meatless okonomiyaki on a stick.

At the shrine, people rang huge bells. I prayed for the first time in a while, and changed my usual wish to something else. I’d given up on it as well.

Then, Maruyama Park. Arguably the most popular hanami spot in the city. Many more food stalls; I got a red bean tayaki, and a grilled bamboo shoot with konnyaku. A kebab stall, here in Japan, surprised me.

Music and street performers. People sitting on cushions, eating on red tablecloths. This was my first public park on this trip, and so it offered a different vibe than a traditional Japanese garden.

People tying wishing ribbons on branches. Decaying blossoms. The sun setting and lowering temperature. Crows and a gentle stream. A colossal weeping cherry on the verge of losing all its vitality. I didn’t expect this park to embody my mood.

This actually consoled me a little. I took it as a sign that I’d come here at the right time.

It was a small victory; a pat in the back. This particular moment had turned out okay. In life, I might be losing the big battle, but on this trip, I managed to make the most of it.

I decided to skip Maruyama Park’s night illuminations. The late, lame blossoms weren’t worth it. The abundance of people only made things worse. I kept hearing the same group of Israelis wherever I went. All over the shrine and park. They were the loudest tourists around.

I got Takoyaki at a stand and headed to the bus stop. I could still do the Botanical Gardens today. The night illuminations were scheduled to start at sunset.

Kyoto Botanical Gardens

I arrived at dusk, disappointed I’d missed the gardens’ Sakura in daytime.

Then I changed my mind. I’d been seeing blossoms every day for two weeks now in broad daylight. Darkness would be a nice change of pace.

Inside the gardens, there were barely any visitors. Very, very few. Finally, some quiet.

The fully blossomed cherries, illuminated underneath the bright moon and dark sky, seemed sadder than the withering ones I’d seen mere hours ago under the sun. Pale pink and midnight blue: a beautiful, doleful combination.

Tulips; roses; a greenhouse. Fireflies were abuzz. A shock of pink in the form of a Chinese redbud. So strong, so unexpected, so in-your-face. I liked how it stood out amongst all the plants.

I returned to my hotel exhausted yet content. Today was one of the worst days of this trip. My mind kept wandering to dark places as I crossed the city of Kyoto in pursuit of falling flowers. I managed to do what I’d set out to, and go to bed with clarity.

I didn’t mind losing every person who used to be in my life. It was just matter of time before I lost them anyway.

Then I recalled the wooden floor from Himeji Castle, and changed my mind. I didn’t need a dream house. In fact, I didn’t need a house at all. I didn’t need a fixed dwelling; moving from one place to another, from one continent to another, and writing as I went along, would make me happier than a structure ever could.

It would be hard, but I could live without fixed friendships, too.

I could definitely live without money. I only needed a place to sleep and food to eat. And a socket to charge my electronics, and transportation. I could give up on shops.

But a career in art – that was the one thing I would never be able to give up on. Not in the evenings, following a crappy day job. As a profession. As a vocation. As the fruits of my labour, and the culmination of my existence.

Life was a story, and I wanted to write it for myself.

I wondered if this trip was changing me, or simply awakening dormant parts of myself. I settled on the latter, when it hit me: revival was also a kind of change.

Today’s highlights: almond toast; the falling petals in Philosopher’s Path; cheese hashimaki; the weeping sakura in Maruyama Park; the night illuminations in the Botanical Gardens (particularly the Chinese redbud); and not entering a konbini in four days.