7 August Miyajima
We
took the early morning tram for the 20-minute ride to the ferry
terminal at Miyajima-guchi. There we took a JR ferry (using
our JR rail passes) for the 20-minute ferry ride to Miyajima.
Disembarking, we turned westward and walked along the road that
apparently circumscribes the island. As we had had no
breakfast, and it was now a quarter to ten, we stopped at a small
restaurant, with a rattan awning that sheltered us from the heat
of the morning. We ordered toast, coffee and orange juice.
I was taken aback by the toast. It was about one inch
(2.5cm) thick. I was later to learn that this is the
standard thickness for toast in Japan. Another cultural
difference!
We
walked on, past shops selling red bean paste sweetmeats and
souvenirs (rice paddles a speciality), clearly designed to part
the tourist from his yen. There are wild deer on the island, wandering
unconcernedly along the roads, and into the hillside. They
are not so much aggressive in their search for goodies from the
hands of tourists as persistent. They come up and nudge
you. This isn’t so bad with the young ones and the
roes, but the bucks have substantial antlers and it pays to keep
a respectful distance from them if possible.
The
shopkeepers, though not equipped with antlers, also need a wide
berth!
Rounding
a corner, we came upon a high gate,
presumably the boundary of the shrine we had come
to visit. There were about fifteen or twenty students
standing at the gate. They implored us to allow them to
take us by “chariot”
towards the temple. We agreed, and were parked on a row of
chairs. A couple of students explained that they were a
society dedicated to providing chariot rides. They spent
their summer vacations on a tour round Japan, stopping for a
couple of weeks here and there, and meeting not only other
students of like disposition, but other Japanese people and -
best of all - foreign tourists. This gave them an
opportunity to practice their English language skills.
Eventually,
the time came for Val and me to mount the chariots, which are
easiest described as a high-wheeled variety of rickshaw. Amid
great cheering and shouts from the rest of the students, our
“steeds” pulled in the shafts of the chariots and ran
us on for about 100 metres, where we dismounted. Our
arrival was greeted with even louder shouts and cheering than our
departure from the students waiting for us to arrive. We
dismounted, and the steeds returned to the start. There
Stephen mounted his chariot, and the whole event was repeated.
The students refused absolutely to accept any financial
contribution, but insisted we sign their visitors’ book.
They were deeply impressed that Stephen wrote in Japanese.
A
short walk brought us round a bend to see the world-famous
“floating torii”. 
All
Shinto shrines are guarded by these torii, mostly painted in the
orange-red or vermilion colour dear to the Shinto religion.
This one is set in the sea, and when the tide is in, the gate
seems to float. The torii guards the Itsukushima Shrine,
founded in AD 593 and dedicated to Ichikishima-Hime-no-Mikoto,
one of
Shinto
reserves a special place for Sake, the Japanese rice wine.
Barrels of it were stored by the Shrine entrance.
We
paid our entrance fee and entered the complex.
We
caught a rare sight of a Shrine maiden whizzing through the
complex.
There
is a theatre here, and this is one of the last remaining places
where performances of Bugaku, the ancient court dance, are held
on special occasions. You have to pay to get into the
building complex, but it is a very beautiful sight. It is
counted as among the three most beautiful scenic attractions in
Japan.
Having
taken the appropriate number of photographs (it’s very
difficult to get a shot without Japanese people strolling into
shot; they rarely seem to see you and keep back for a few
seconds), we walked up the hillside for a view over the sea.
We found a thatched shelter, which gave us a good, cool(ish)
rest. After a while, we went down towards the village and
inspected the spectacular vermilion pagoda, over 90 feet high.
Feeling hot and in need of refreshment, we found a restaurant.
I had a shaved ice dish, flavoured with bright green melon syrup.
It was cold and refreshing. I did have a couple of fizzy
drinks as well.
We
walked some distance uphill until we came to a disused café that
served as a bus stop. We hoped to catch a bus going further
up the hillside, but eventually elected to walk. We arrived
at our objective, the base station on the cable car that would
take us close to the summit of Mt. Misen, some 530 metres high.
We duly arrived, and walked along the path to the secondary
summit, a few metres short of the primary summit. There we
sat in a thatched, bandstand-like structure, hoping to see the
famous wild monkeys of the island. Sadly, we saw none, and
a chalked notice told us that the monkeys had moved deeper into
the primeval forest in search of food.
We
did, however, come across a curious species of animal. This
was Megaphonus Americanii, or the loud-mouthed Yank.
This particular one had been there, done that, bought the T-shirt
just about everywhere, or so he claimed. He was trying to
impress the woman who was clearly his unwilling host. She,
it seemed, had lived in Japan for some years, while loudmouth was
on his first visit. He had many suggestions as to how the
Japanese could improve things. More McDonalds and KFCs
would be a good start, he suggested, and a greater availability
of Hershey Bars. And not one Japanese restaurant served
grits. Many of them did not even cook their fish. And
they could do more to adopt the American language. And
everything was so expensive. Whinge, moan, drivel ...
All of this was conducted at high volume, to everyone’s
discomfiture but his own.
Fortunately,
his hostess took pity on us, and herself, and suggested they go
back down to look at the pagoda. They retreated to the
coast, and blessed peace descended on us. A Japanese couple
exchanged meaningful glances with us, proving that a common
antagonist does much to unite people.
Eventually,
it was time for us to depart. We took the cable car back
down the hillside, enjoying the splendid views as we descended.
We waited for ten minutes for the bus, which duly arrived,
driving us down to the back of the village. We walked down
the road, then detoured and found ourselves near the
shrine’s dormitory. There we passed the time of day
with several deer, who seemed totally unafraid of our presence.
We walked back, running the gauntlet of the tourist trap shops.
We did succumb and bought some sweet red bean paste cookies, and
a few bottles of ice-cold mineral water. We consumed these
while waiting for the ferry to arrive, and very good they were
too.
We
retraced our journey back to our minshuku, where, having
perspired heavily all day, we took a bath. Stephen and I
went successively into the small bath for men, so while Stephen
was in, Val and I took three loads of shirts etc. to the
laundrette just down the road. All laundrettes in Japan
wash clothes using cold water with cold-water detergent. It
certainly does the trick. I understand this is the same for
domestic washing machines, too.
Taking
the advice of the minshuku manager (who speaks some English), we
took a taxi down to the “Okonomiyaki village” for our
evening meal. Okonomiyaki is a speciality of the Hiroshima
region. Apparently there is an Osaka version incorporating
yams, but this is looked down on in Hiroshima. I bet the
Osaka chefs look down on the Hiroshima version.
Okonomi
means, “as you like”, and yaki means
“cook”, so what we have is a basic dish into which you
can put anything you like. The ones we ate are somewhere
between a pancake and an omelette. We entered the building
and took a lift to the highest floor, then walked down,
inspecting the many okonimiyaki establishments. One whose
walls were festooned with photos of the chef-proprietor
entertaining many Japanese businessmen, talents, sportsmen,
singers, actors and politicians caught our eye. They meant
nothing to us, and I suppose they could have been his wife’s
brother’s niece’s children, the local Yakuza
chief, and the sanitary inspector and all his relatives, for all
we could tell. Whatever. We sat down.
The
chef makes a pancakey mixture, placing an 8 inch (20cm) circle of
it on a griddle right in front of the customer. Separately,
he is heating up soba noodles, shredded cabbage, meat, fish,
spring onions etc. and is cooking an omelette. He adds the
shredded ingredients to the cooking pancake, pours more batter on
the top, sticks the omelette on top, flips the whole kaboosh over
and cooks for another few minutes. It is then placed on a
plate, and thick spicy brown sauce (rather like HP sauce)
is poured over it. With a cool beer, it is very good, very
filling and fairly cheap. I think we paid about 800 Yen for
ours.
After
the meal we left the “okinomiyaki village” and walked
around the streets for a bit, dazzled by the bright neon signs of
the entertainment district. Eventually, we found an
Italianate coffee bar, where we had a coffee and cake, the while
watching the world passing by. We saw a huge stretch-limo
Mercedes with black windows (how did the chauffeur see out?) pull
to a halt across the street from us. A sixty-year-old
Japanese man emerged, wearing a white suit, white overcoat worn
cape-style, white fedora and dark glasses. He was
accompanied by what can only have been bodyguards, so burly were
they, and wearing sunglasses. They could not keep their
arms straight by their sides, such was the overdevelopment of
their chest muscles. This was clearly the “capo di
tutti capi” of the local Yakuza. He looked
across to us, and nodded, before entering a small doorway. The
chauffeur, as bulky as the bodyguards and similarly wearing
sunglasses, stood sternly by the car. We took this as a
sign that we were safe, at least so long as Yakuza-san was
in the area.
Stephen’s
cappuccino came with the cocoa powder sprinkled on the top
through a stencil, so that it looked like a big smiley face.
He managed to preserve the face until he had drunk the underlying
coffee, then attacked the face with his spoon.
A taxi
took us home to our minshuku, where we very quickly fell asleep.
