LOCATION: KYOTO (NORTH EAST)
MOOD: AMBIVALENT
LISTENING TO: ARMY OF THE PHARAOHS – BLACK CHRISTMAS
DAMN FOREIGNERS, STEALING ALL OUR SHOWERS:
As I mentioned in a previous post, one of the good things about my accommodation in Osaka was that I had a private room. Sure the place was a dump in the middle of one of the seedier parts of Osaka, but at least I could shut the door and have a little slice of the world to myself. However this privacy only extended to sleeping, as my room was essentially a bed with a TV:
Throw in communal showers and you really do get that whole prison vibe. At least I didn't have to worry if I dropped the soap though.
All other facilities were communal: toilets, showers, internet access. Although having to lock your room everytime you wanted to take a piss was troublesome it didn't compare to the sheer awkwardness of public showers. Youth hostels have shared showers, but at least you have a cubical to yourself. In Japanese hotels, public showers really are public. There's nothing I dreaded more than having to walk into the showers and be greeted by a bunch of naked old dudes each day.
Given my lack of enthusiasm for getting my gear off in front of a bunch of naked guys I was therefore elated to find out on the second last day of my stay that there was actually a private cubicle on the ground floor that the reception had somehow neglected to tell me about when I first arrived. The first time I used that shower was fine as it was quite late at night and nobody else was waiting for it. However when I got up this morning (in quite a rush to get cleaned up in time to check out) I found it was occupied. Fair enough I thought, it was still early enough for people to be taking morning showers.
I waited for around ten minutes, and a small queue started to form behind me. After another ten minutes I knocked on the door, wondering whether I could politely remind the occupant that other people needed to use the shower as well. I waited for a response, but there was none. I knocked again and there was a loud bang on the door from the other side. I reasoned that maybe he was in the middle of something, so I waited another five minutes before knocking again. This time the door opened and a furious (and naked) middle-aged Japanese businessman appears and starts cussing me out. I explain to him that I've been waiting twenty minutes for the shower, and that I'm not the only one. He sees the white guys in line behind me and starts ranting about rude foreigners and arguing with me about how long an average shower is. He told me that since I'm Japanese (which I'm not, but I was sort of chuffed that he thought I was) I should know that the average length of a shower is half an hour, and then promptly slammed the door. I yell back that as it's now been 25 minutes since I started waiting I would give him another five minutes to get out. I then turn around and find that all the big white guys behind me have chickened out and left.
I was considering just going to the public bath, but at that point it wasn't really about the shower anymore – it was the principle! So I waited for another ten minutes and the guy finally comes out. He flies into a rage when he sees that I'm still waiting there, and another shouting match ensues. The management comes running and breaks it up, sending the guy up to his room. I get my shower (which I finish in five minutes), pack up my stuff and promptly check out.
What's the point of this story? That every country has douchebags, and that racism isn't a white phenomenon. All that he needed to do was start ranting about foreigners stealing Japanese jobs and I could have signed him up with the Klan.
TRAIN SPOTTING:
I couldn't really spend much time worrying about the altercation because I had to get myself to Kyoto by lunch time. Luckily for me I only had to make one connection; I took the subway to Osaka station and from there it was a straight train to Kyoto. I was a little sad at leaving Osaka; it really is a city with a unique buzz to it and a style of its own. Nevertheless, I'd been told by numerous people (once again, including the Lonely Planet Guide) that I should allocate a fair chunk of time to Kyoto so I packed up my bags and off I went.
Kyoto Central station. I could have had haute cuisine in one of the station's many upmarket restaurants but I elected for more mundane fare and had a donut from Mister Donut instead.
Upon arriving I found Kyoto station quite impressive. Japan puts a lot of pride into its major train stations, seeing as rail (and not air) is the major form of domestic transport. When I last came to Japan and stayed in Kanazawa I was greeted by a similarly impressive train station, which looked a little out of place given that the rest of the city was fairly low-key. It's like dressing Rosie O'Donnell in Vera Wang - nice if you can afford it, but who are you really trying to fool?
I didn't have much time to explore the cavernous station complex however as I had to rendezvous with Henry's friend Clement, an exchange student at Kyoto University who was letting me crash at his place. The plan was initially to have him meet me at the station and then take me back to his place, but as both of us had ran behind schedule there was only time for him to give me the key and a small pack of information before he had to rush off to class.
The happiness was to prove short lived.
It was thus that I first became acquainted with Kyoto's public transport system, which would prove to be the first of many disappointments with the city. Clement's place is in the far north-eastern reaches of the city, but luckily there was a bus service that ran directly from the station. I had been told that it was a lot cheaper than rail, which clinched the deal. However after a little over an hour in an overcrowded bus with a bunch of chatty geratrics I was reconsidering my choice.
I finally got to Clement's place and cracked open my trusty Lonely Planet Guide (Editor's Note: How many more mentions do we have to insert before we can charge for advertising?) and the information pack that Clement had given me in order to plan for the remainder of the day. In doing so I discovered how difficult it would be to get around Kyoto. Apparently Kyoto has a good bus service, but all I had was information about the rail network. Having come from Tokyo and Osaka, it was a shock to find Kyoto's rail network in such a haphazard and poorly planned state.
Like other major Japanese cities Kyoto mixes overground rail lines with subway networks, but it lacks the connectivity and depth of other rail networks. For starters, not all lines run through Kyoto Central station. Add to that the fact that rail travel is a fair bit more expensive than in either Tokyo or Osaka and the absence of an all day, unlimited travel pass (once again available in both Tokyo and Osaka) and trains suddenly become an unappealing proposition. It's no wonder that most locals opt for a bicycle over public transport.
There really isn't much in the far north eastern outskirts of Kyoto, but there were a few sights within walking distance so I decided to load up on lunch and go for a walk.
The restaurant was a quiet little joint near Clement's apartment block that apparently serviced mostly businessmen. Luckily these ones were fully clothed.
WAXING PHILOSOPHICAL:
After finishing lunch I set off down the major arterial that marks the eastern border of Tokyo – Shirakawa-Dori. Actually, 'major arterial' is sort of a misleading term seeing as it's just a two lane road, but it does bear a fair amount of traffic and Kyoto lacks any of the massive road infrastructure that Tokyo or Osaka enjoy.
The great Shirakawa-dori. The pathways are a lot narrower than in the big cities and there are a lot more bicycles, something which further endeared the city to me.
Walking down the street was a somewhat ambivalent experience. The north-east of Kyoto is a very quiet area, and the buildings are low-rise and well-spaced. I'm sure this makes for a pleasant living environment, but it's boring as hell as a tourist. The strange thing was that my first glimpses of Kyoto seemed strangely devoid of character and spirit; it was just a bunch of buildings and people on bicycles that lacked the vibrant personality of the cities I had visited before. In addition to that, the demeanour of people on the street and shopkeepers was slightly off-putting; it almost felt like the city was looking down on me. My first impression of Kyoto was that of an old-time actress past her prime who was living off her past glories and saw no need to try to impress you.
When I passed this on my first day I knew it wasn't going to be a good trip.
After a fair distance I reached my first destination: Ginkakuji, the Silver Pavilion. The name is a little misleading as the pavilion was never actually sheeted with silver, and the admission price is steep: 500 yen ($7.50). It turned out to be an even less prudent purchase when I found out (after having paid the entrance fee) that the pavilion itself was under repairs, and that if I came back around this time next year I would be able to see it. I was however free to tour around the surrounding garden and buy stuff at the gift shop. Nice to see they had their priorities straight.
Offering visitors the garden while closing off the pavilion is like a concert organiser getting up on stage and saying that the headline act is too strung out on coke to perform, but that you're free to stick around for the supporting act.
I have to admit though, the garden was fairly nice. It was a lot like the gardens I had seen in Kanazawa, another city famous for its cultural heritage. It was pretty much what you'd expect from a traditional private Japanese garden: well landscaped, with a path that took you up into overlooking hills for a bit and then back down to entrance. Apart from that it was of little note, and I couldn't help but feel like asking for my money back. I did get some nice photos though.
In lieu of the actual Silver Pavilion they made a big deal out of this pile of silver sand.
Feeling contemplative yet?
The view from the hill overlooking the pavilion.
I'm not sure whether they were bonsais or just bushes, but I thought the little trees were a nice touch.
Following Ginkakuji I then turned to Tetsugaku no Michi (The Philosopher's Walk), the winding path that snakes its way through the east of Kyoto. It's a perennial favourite of introspective types both local and foreign, and is reputedly especially beautiful during the sakura season. Unfortunately by the time I arrived in Kyoto the sakura had come and gone – they're only in bloom for about a week. What was left was, unfortunately, a fairly nondescript walkway lined with bare trees, accompanied by a shallow canal and dotted with numerous similarly nondescript temples/shrines and small shops. It did make for a pleasant stroll (and I stopped at a few of the temples), but it's really not all that different from walking around any of the other winding streets in Kyoto. I guess that sort of sums up Kyoto – unless you're a real Japanophile with acutely refined tastes you can usually get the same cultural effect without the pretentiousness by visiting other parts of Japan.
Let's get philosophical.
I'm guessing it is pretty easy to get philosophical as there's not much else to look at while you're walking.
Admittedly Kyoto does have some interesting traditions. For some reason the city has this obsession with teddy bears; this was only one of many that I saw posed outdoors.
I'm pretty sure Rodin is turning in his grave.
After finishing up with Tetsugaku no Michi I hopped a bus back to Clement's apartment to meet him for dinner. We took a walk around the north east looking for a decent place to eat before we finally settled on a small noodle bar. We started to talk about our experiences in Japan and I was pleasantly surprised to find that he was similarly disenchanted with the whole Kyoto experience. Misery does, as they say, love company.
Following dinner we took a stroll along the banks of the Kamogawa, the river that runs through the eastern part of Kyoto. Kyoto is a sleepy old town at night, particularly in the area where we were staying. We only passed a few people during our entire walk, including a few homeless guys living under a bridge, a cyclist or two and a random white guy playing a shakuhachi (a Japanese flute) by the banks of the river. Apparently some people were revelling in the rarefied atmosphere, even if we weren't.
For some reason all the white people I saw in Kyoto appeared to be having more fun than I was.
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