Nature is beautiful precisely because it falls upon eyes that will not appreciate it for much longer.
Akutagawa Ryunosuke, “A Note to a Certain Old Friend”
ENOUGH! I’VE HAD IT WITH KONBINI FOOD. HOW MUCH WHITE RICE CAN ONE EAT?!
In Hokkaido, I stayed half of the time at accommodations that included meals, so I enjoyed great variety and fulfilling portions. Lately, however, I’ve had either zero alternatives to convenience stores, or a few that were over my budget.
I am hungry all the time. I am spending too much on food. I love onigiri, but I need a break.
Either I throw my budget out of the window and go nuts, or continue to eat pre-packaged fish and rice.
Usually there is only one meatless option at the shops. I routinely ask clerks if there are more.
“Are you allergic to meat?” one of them asked me. Vegetarianism hadn’t even occurred to her.
I don’t mind this sort of diet in restaurants, where the dishes are fresher and more interesting, but Japan is not the best travel destination for an unemployed writer. Let alone an unemployed writer with a perpetually empty stomach.
Apart from this increasing nuisance, things are picking up. There’s been ups and downs, literally and metaphorically, as I travel across more mountains and valleys. Steep, winding roads; conflicting thoughts and emotions. A perpetual ebb and flow. Much is happening to me on this trip, more than I could’ve foreseen.
Table of Contents
4 March 2023
- Old Tokaido road: Moto-Hakone to Amazake-Chaya (30m)
- 11:40-12:00 Amazake-Chaya to Hakone-Yumoto station bus, 12:25-13:05 Hakone-Yumoto to Gora station Tozan train
- Gora Park
- 14:35-14:45 Koen-kami to Sounzan cable car, Sounzan to Owakudani ropeway (10m)
- Owakudani (30m)
- 15:45-16:05 Owakudani to Togendai bus (this section of the ropeway was under maintenance), 16:30-17:00 Togendai to Moto-Hakone cruise
- Hakone Shrine (1h)
Old Tokaido Road
Today started at 7:30, my usual waking up as of late, yet I didn’t leave my apartment until 10:00. I felt like I was about to have one of those days.
Before going to bed, I tried to formulate an itinerary. Ultimately, I decided to make up my mind depending on my mood in the morning.
My intuition proved itself after I had settled on Old Tokaido Road, an old path linking Tokyo and Kyoto. I set out with a map from the tourist information centre and figured there’d be plenty of signage along the way.
I was wrong.
This was one of the main attractions of Hakone, and still, there wasn’t one sign in Moto-Hakone telling me where to go. If I hadn’t asked a staff member at the bus station, I never would’ve found out.
I began to walk up a paved road with no shoulders or pavement. It was tiring and steep. I wasn’t even sure I was headed at the right direction. There wasn’t anyone to ask. Already I saw this day going down the drain.
Then, one by one, I gradually stumbled upon Japanese families hiking the Tokaido.
They all stopped to greet me good morning. Even the kids. It was strange that every single one of them had come from the opposite direction and was walking with sticks.
On the one hand, I was panting like crazy, the only one advancing from Moto-Hakone, the only one walking alone, the only foreigner, and the only one without sticks. The Japanese families all glided down the road toward me, easily and cheerfully, as if all the locals were aware of a few unwritten laws of this road.
On the other hand, their cordiality heartened me, and I repeatedly asked each family for directions, to ensure I wasn’t lost. Without them, I wouldn’t have been able to navigate.
Once I left the paved road and entered Tokaido, the gray concrete and sounds of cars vrooming past me were replaced by mossy cobblestones, tall cedar trees, and silence.
The modern world had dissipated, and so had my fears.
I hiked for half an hour until I reached a teahouse. At some point the road grew so steep, that both ascending and descending it were equally challenging. On the few signs that accompanied it, English was negligible. There were, however, a few bear warnings.
Cell reception was non-existent, even at the tea house.
I drank amazake and ate a couple of mochi, which were all delicious. Amazake was the ultimate winter comfort drink – warm, thick, and rich. I hoped I would get to drink it again.
Then I took the bus to Hakone-Yumamoto station. Tokaido went all the way there, but it would’ve required around 1.5h of extra walking, and from what I’d read, the latter part of the road wasn’t as rewarding. Half an hour from Moto-Hakone to Amazake-Chaya was enough for me.
It was curious how every bus in Hakone frequently alerted passengers with the same sentence: “As we are entering a meandering road, please take care of yourself and your luggage.” Hakone was basically steep winding paths on mountains upon mountains.
I was struck by this more and more as the day went on, since my next activity – riding the Tozan railway – included at some point the steepest railway slope in Japan, and the second steepest in the world.
The Tozan tunnels had been built over a century ago. The railway’s original construction had remained intact to this day. As the train moved, water was being sprinkled on the tracks, to prevent wear.
The result was a beautiful, old train snailing across mountains and underpasses, as well as an iron bridge. The train reached dead ends three times. Each time, the conductor at the front dashed outside to switch places with the conductor at the back, so as to change the direction of the train. It was both unexpected and entertaining to watch. Japan being Japan, lots of bowing was involved, and formal suits with white hats and gloves.
Apparently June-July would be a great time to ride the Tozan, because the mountains would be blooming with hydrangeas.
Gora Park and Owakudani
After the train ride, I walked to Gora Park, which hadn’t been on my radar until the tourist information centre had recommended it to me. This was Japan’s first French-style garden, small but well-maintained and symmetrical, with a grennhouse, tea house, craft houses, cafes, a rose garden, and a fountain. The latter was where I had my lunch, bento from the station, plus a rose ice cream.
The cherry blossom ice cream I had in Hirosaki was pastel pink – very light, with a hint of sweet. The rose ice cream I had in Gora was more bubblegum pink, and thus had a stronger taste.
Both were a thousand times better than wasabi or corn ice cream. Like amazake, I hoped to have the chance to eat them again.
From the park, I continued to the cable car, which was overloaded to say the least. There was zero room for any more passengers, even one person like me. So I waited for the next car to arrive, and squeezed into yet another pack of sardines.
I wondered if this was a preview of what I would be facing in Tokyo.
The cable car crept up the mountain, until I reached the ropeway. The various means of transportation I’d taken to cross mountains had been slow and laborious, yet at the same time a build-up to this moment. The ropeway offered staggering views of Owakudani, a volcanic valley with sulphuric vents that reminded me of Mount Io and Noboribetsu Jigokudani.
I bought a pack of four of the best hard-boiled eggs I’d ever had. Their shell was blackened by the sulphur in Owakudani’s onsens, and this gave them a very strong and unique taste, too. They reminded me of Cholent eggs, except with a much more dominant and salty flavour.
Having seen signs saying the last ropeway and buses in this area would depart at 16:15, I realised it was getting late, and decided to start heading back to my apartment. I took the bus to Togendai, and from there the same ship I had sailed on yesterday.
This time, however, I went up to the weather deck, instead of passing the time inside without heeding the view. It made all the difference: the cruise felt eminent and exciting, reminiscent of the ferry from last week. When I went to (what I think was called) the nose of the ship, there were a bunch of middle-aged women from the Philippines who urged me to pose with each of them as Jack and Rose from Titanic. They took plenty of pictures and we did plenty of poses and perhaps I should’ve asked them to send me some, because the entire ordeal was hilarious.
Inside the ship, I ran into the Korean guest from last night and her mom, who invited me over for dinner.
Hakone Shrine
I was having so much fun by this point, that I didn’t want the day to end, and headed straight from the port to Hakone Shrine, a mere ten-minute walk. Lamps leading up to it were already lit, which made the approach even more atmospheric.
There was a line of worshippers. All threw a few coins into a container, bowed twice, clapped twice, prayed, then bowed again. Most took videos of themselves doing that. The whole thing felt capitalistic and performative, but I joined their ranks (minus the video-taking part). This time, I limited my requests from the gods to one.
The shop was already closed. I decided to return tomorrow for a goshuin.
There was a swarm of young people waiting to take a photo at the lakeside torii. I stood in line, since I didn’t have anything else to do until dinner. It went without saying that the person waiting behind you would take your photo.
I returned to my apartment, and soon thereafter went to the Koreans’ for a joint 7/11 meal. It wasn’t like we had a choice. All the restaurants were closed. I passed a few that were open between 10:00-16:00, or even 11:30-16:00. Not a bad length for a working day.
But at least the Korean guest and her mom had bought stuff at 7/11 that I’d never tried. I had fun chatting with them and learning a bit about South Korea. Then I got a call from a Japanese phone number for the first time.
It took me a minute to understand what the caller was saying. They mentioned Aoni Onsen, the old-school ryokan I’d stayed at.
My heart skipped a beat. Did they have some piece of information for me…?
No, this was the old Japanese woman I’d met there. She called to ask me when I would come to her city, north of Tokyo, and, after hearing about my itinerary, gave me a bunch of tips. We talked for around half an hour, me repeatedly saying “はい” even though I couldn’t understand her most of the time. I promised to give her a call once I’d be in Tokyo.
Today might have started late, yet packed more than I could’ve imagined. I went to bed exhausted and content, optimistic that the tide of this trip had changed.
Today’s highlights: the camaraderie at Old Tokaido; drinking amazake; Tozan railway; eating bento and rose ice cream in front of the fountain; the ropeway; black eggs in Owakudani; the cruise; and dinner with the Koreans.
5 March 2023
- 10:00-10:25 Moto-Hakone to Togendai cruise, 10:30-10:45 Togendai to Sengoku bus
- Grocery store shopping
- Choanji Temple (30m)
- 12:05-12:15 Sengoku to Sengoku-kogen
- Sengokuhara Pampas Grass Field (20m)
- 13:10-13:20 Sengoku-kogen to Togendai, 13:30-14:00 cruise to Hakone-machiko
- Lunch at Torauto (smelt fish again)
- Ancient Cedar Avenue
- 15:05-15:30 Moto-Hakone to Oku-Yumoto-Iriguchi
- Tenzan Onsen
- 17:55-18:05 Oku-Yumoto-Irigichi to Hakone-Yumoto station bus, 18:35-19:15 Hakone-Yumoto to Moto-Hakone bus
Today went a lot like yesterday. Started again at 7:30, my new natural waking time, and took off after two hours of lounging in bed.
The goal was to tick off the last things in Hakone that had interested me and I hadn’t managed to squeeze into the previous two days.
Choan-ji Temple
First, Choanji temple. I took the cruise for the third time (the best and, actually, only way of crossing the lake) without eating breakfast. I figured the bus would drop me off at a central location with a café or a convenience store. What Sengoku bus stop turned out to be was a residential area with no tourists, but a grocery store.
I went inside, hoping they had prepared food like at 7/11.
They didn’t.
It was obviously me and a few locals doing their weekly shopping. The place felt very different from a convenience store. For example, when paying, the cashier would scan and place your items to a separate basket, which you would then take to a loading station, instead of packing your groceries at the cash register and wasting everyone’s time.
I had a feeling I might find here my much sought-after black sticky rice. It didn’t take long for this feeling to bear fruit.
What a coincidence, on a day I happen to stay at a place with a kitchenette! Overjoyed and ravenous, I bought some snacks and necessities, and stuffed a green Jagarico into my mouth – a snack the Japanese guy had introduced me to, and had become one of my favourites. (Blueberry Hi-Chew was another, despite the gelatin…)
The temple was small but unique. I enjoyed walking around the grounds by myself, accompanied once more by a symphony of rustles and chirps. The cemetery and sacred vibe were practically violated by countless humorous sculptures. This rare juxtaposition was both humbling and entertaining.
On the way back, I decided to stop at a famous pampas field a friend had told me about. There was a Lawson near the bus stop, thank god. I was practically squirming with hunger.
I devoured a bento – it was no 7/11, but at least not Family Mart, either – and visited the field, which was small but pretty. Then I returned to Lake Ashi and boarded the ship for the fourth time, prosaic by now, and ate lunch at a restaurant where I had a discount through my apartment.
Tenzan Onsen
The weather had changed by this point into a persistent drizzle. It reminded me of the climate in the UK: 5 degrees, gentle yet endless rain. The opposite of the wild storms that raged and soon retreated in Israel.
“Great,” I thought while eating lunch, “my first taste of rain in Japan, on the day I planned to visit an onsen.”
This was in Hakone-Machiko. I walked to Hakone Checkpoint, a small reconstruction of a segment of the Old Tokaido road, yet it didn’t interest me enough to pay for entrance into the two buildings. It occurred to me that a rainy rotenburo might be propitious after all.
So I crossed the Ancient Cedar Avenue on my way to the bus station. This was yet another remain of Tokaido, and a neat one to pass through in this weather: raindrops and tall cedar trees.
The onsen I arrived at was a mixed bag.
On the one hand, it was on a small hill near a forest, with several small open-air baths. There wasn’t any view, and the place was way too crowded. There were dozens of Japanese guys, as well as four foreigners. I saw several guests with tattoos, which must have meant this establishment had not banned them.
On the other hand, it rained all the while, which made the experience more special. I soaked on-and-off for nearly two hours, with a neon green quick-dry towel I’d brought with me folded on top of my head, half-foggy, half-wet glasses, and my hairy twig legs, arguably looking like an extraterrestrial. I listened to the sound of the rain, and watched it fall into the hot water.
There was a tiny statue of Buddha at the rotenburo, holding a giant leaf that kept it dry. The sky gradually got darker, until a staff member put a candle inside a stony cage.
I felt bad for becoming bored after a while. But two hours without companionship at a place like this were a bit much. This would be my last onsen on this trip, I decided. For sure. Definitely. Most likely. Probably. Maybe. I don’t know.
On the way back, I had to take two buses (one eastward, another westward) instead of a shorter, direct line, because the time was around 18:00. In areas like Hakone and Fuji Five Lakes, this meant the day was over. I didn’t mind the detour, though, because there was nothing else to do.
I returned to my apartment and made black sticky rice pudding. The smell of the rice brought back memories. The water ran a royal shade of purple. It tasted as well as I’d remembered.
Too bad I burned the bottom layer of the pudding in the process and ruined the pot. I resolved to leave an apology note with some cash in the morning. This trip was costing way more than my budget.
Today’s highlights: the humorous temple sculptures; the drizzling hot spring; and finally treating my tastebuds to a black sticky rice pudding.
6 March 2023
- Hakone Shrine
- 9:15-10:15 Hakone Jinja Iriguchi to Odawara Station, 11:05-13:05 Odawara to Nagoya Shinkansen
- Quick stop at capsule hotel
- 14:00-14:50 Nagoya to Nakatsugawa limited express train (Shinano 15), 15:15-15:40 Nakatsugawa to Magome bus
- Magome (1.5h)
- 17:40-18:15 Magome to Nakatsugawa bus, 18:35-20:00 Nakatsugawa to Nagoya station train
Farewell to Hakone
After the last two successful days, came yet another slightly disappointing one. Fit for a winding road.
Today’s itinerary was left rather blank, to be decided on the spot. I knew that I would want to stop by Hakone Shrine for a goshuin (stamp), and from there go to Owakudani. I had a reservation at 10:00 to enter the volcanic area.
This hazardous zone contained poisonous gas, ergo reservations for guided tour were required. Groups were limited to thirty visitors at a time. Pregnant people or those with medical conditions were barred from participating.
I’d been looking forward to this tour. As I headed out, I noticed Hakone had been engulfed in fog.
My breaths materialized in front of me. I checked the status of my reservation online. It had been canceled due to snow.
That was ironic. I’d been to the snowiest places in Japan, trekked forests with snowshoes, pushed a bus stuck in a narrow corridor of stubborn white. I couldn’t understand why a few snowflakes had posed such a hazard.
It was just as well, though, because it freed up enough time for me to visit Kiso Valley – a place I hadn’t thought I’d be able to see.
I was on the fence between this and Kawazu, where cherry blossoms had already been blooming. The former was closer, in the Izu Peninsula to the south, but the festival had ended yesterday, which meant the cherry blossoms might already be past their peak. Plus, I would have plenty of opportunities to see them in cities like Hiroshima and Kyoto over the next few weeks.
I really wanted to have a taste of Kiso Valley, yet it was impossible alongside the Owakudani tour. The bad weather solved this problem.
At Odawara station, I reserved a spot on the Shinkansen. It was a well-known fact that the westbound Shinkansens offered views of Mount Fuji on window seat E. So well known, that all of these seats had been taken.
I ate bento as I waited for my train. Suddenly there was an explosive sound, like a rocket or something, which made people on the platform flinch. It was a Shinkansen zooming past us, seemingly at the speed of light.
This happened again and again while I was waiting. It was kind of amusing. Shinkansens were an attraction on their own. Fast, convenient, orderly: boarding one felt like a luxury. I wondered why the whole world wasn’t boasting them.
I left Hakone satisfied with my time there. In the Five Lakes area, I’d had great of views of Mount Fuji, and not much else; three nights could’ve been two. In Hakone, there were a ton of museums, various and attractive means of transportation (buses, railways, cable cars, ropeways, cruises…), shrines and temples, plus nature. Everything closed early in both locations, between 16:00-17:00 – but I liked it better.
I saw a lot of trees around Hakone blooming bright pink. I assumed at first they were cherry blossoms, yet it was too early for those. Probably plum trees.
Nagoya
Nagoya Station was yet another huge one, easy to get lost in its various sections and rushing crowds. It felt hectic in a lively sort of way. Such train stations, with their hustle and bustle, had always excited me. So far, Sendai Station was probably the only one that resembled it.
Perhaps this explained my surprise at the complete lack of vacant coin lockers. There were around five locker stations scattered in the building, yet the ones large enough for suitcases were all occupied.
After half an hour of a futile hunt for storage, I headed to my capsule hotel for the night, a two-minute walk from the station, knowing full well that the front desk would be closed. Until today, every accommodation had allowed me to leave my luggage in the morning and return in the afternoon to check in. Today’s was the first one whose business hours excluded lunchtime.
The place was exceptionally cheap, more hostel-like than that high-end capsule hotel in Sendai (even though both cost exactly the same). The receptionist was very upset with me for ignoring the big sign at the front that announced their business hours. I apologised incessantly, and she let me leave my luggage, looking cross and stern all the while.
Kiso Valley
I returned to the station and hopped on a train bound for Kiso Valley. On the way, I checked the local bus’s timetable.
It didn’t run in the evening. Duh. I was back in the countryside.
Kiso Valley was an ancient trade route in the Alps, offering well-preserved post towns. The most well-known of those were Magome and Tsumago, which could be walked in 2-3 hours along the Nakasendo trail.
I made it to Magome at 15:40. The last return bus was at 18:15. I could walk to Tsumago and reach it after sunset (though, as Kawaguchiko and Hakone had taught me, this would be a bad idea in the countryside), yet I would have no way to return to any train station from there.
So the Nakasendo trail was impossible, after all. This was what happened when you showed up somewhere remote in the afternoon without a plan.
Considering I hadn’t even expected to set foot in this area, it was okay. I’d already had my fair share of rural towns and natural walking trails. Thus, I decided to stay in Magome, and not leave it at all.
As I took the bus there, I wondered: Where were the tourists? Where were the locals? I’d thought this was a popular attraction. Especially in central Honshu. The French couple had visited it as a day trip from Matsumoto. Why was I alone on this bus?
The ride was, despite its solitude, stunning. I’d returned to the Alps. Small towns, crowned by green mountains. This morning, Hakone was cold and foggy; now, the clouds had vanished, and the sun was bright.
Magome was sufficient on its own. Old, traditional houses pressed together upon a hill. Watermills everywhere. Cars were forbidden during the day.
It was shocking and quite bizarre to see Pokémon GO lamps positioned at the entrance to almost every building, here of all places. There was even a large GO stop (or whatever the round blue symbol was called) at some point.
I climbed up to the observatory and watched the view of the valley. A sea of green in front of me; clear blue sky.
“What are you drinking?” an elderly local asked.
“Carrot and apple juice,” I replied.
“Are you vegetarian?”
It was funny that this was his first thought in reaction to that. We talked for an hour while the sun descended over the valley. It gradually grew cold.
He spoke very fast, slurring like the old Japanese woman on the phone. In the west, this speech is more common with young people, while the older generation enunciates their words well. Here, the opposite was true.
I’d had locals of all ages speak to me this way. Maybe they had felt comfortable enough with me to drop formalities altogether and chat as casually as possible. But it was hard to follow.
The return bus was empty again. The sun was setting; the view was worth the long way here. I left satisfied with seeing Magome alone. I took my time there, and enjoyed its rural charm.
I’d seen great variety of nature in Japan. Snow taller than buses; drift ice. Sprawling mountains and yellow fields. Hell valleys and icy hot springs. Even today, I went from a misty lake and wet trails to a mountainside town with a magnificent view.
The time for my first megacity was fast approaching. Osaka would happen exactly one month into my trip. After countless hours spent alone in the countryside, I felt ready for a change of scenery.
I checked into the capsule hotel near Nagoya Station. Shoes were to be taken off near the entrance. My floor featured a mixed-gender dormitory. Seeing girls startled me again, and made me worry I was at an all-women floor.
Unlike the upscale capsules in Sendai – futuristic sleeping pods in sleek, dark-gray rooms with “QUIET” signs everywhere, and a cautious atmosphere reminiscent of a church – here the dormitory was like a hostel’s, simple and quite bland in design. The space wasn’t divided into lockers, toilets, showers, and sleeping areas. It was an open-floor hotel, so noise was unavoidable. I was given a chain lock for my luggage, owing to the lack of lockers.
At least there was a small lounge at the entrance where I could write all this.
Today’s highlights: seeing Shinkansens dart across the platform; the Magome observatory.
Stray observations:
- When a Japanese person refers to themself, they touch the tip of their nose.
- If you take off your shoes at the entrance to establishments and don’t leave them pointing at the exit, a staff member will rotate them.
- This might be the country with the most people who sport brightly colored hair. Anime’s impact, obviously.
- There was a geisha at the entrance to Hakone-Yumoto station, handing out pamphlets for some reason.
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