Out on the towns
...written on 2001-07-01, @ 9:53 p.m.
Tales of Kim's Life in Japan
Mon June 25, 2001
"Oh God! Ooooooohhh God!" I said nervously to Chad and Ivan, as I saw the back tire of the Kintetsu line bus come dangerously close to the edge of the road perched hundreds of feet above a raging river below. It was a one Japanese sized car road and our bus was almost scraping either the side of the mountain or the flimsy looking white piece of metal guarding against plunges into the cold river below.
There was no place for the oncoming car to go but backwards, and I for one wouldn't relish trying that on these curvy mountain roads, but in reverse it went until it managed to find a tiny stretch of gravel on the river side of the road where we could squeeze by it. The bus driver honked his horn in appreciation as we continued up the path.
We had just gotten off of the train from Ogaki about 15 minutes before. Leapt off is more like it. We had been posing my monkey, "Tam", in various places on the train, taking him out on his first "MAJ (Monkeys Across Japan) adventure ( see Shlippy!), and laughing at the perky way he was dangling from the hand strap, when Chad looked up and said, "Hey, isn't this where we're supposed to get off?" We all looked at the sign that said "Ibi" and realized that indeed, we had arrived at our destination and lickety split had to get off the train. My backpack was open and splayed all over the seat and I had to grab it and the two cameras with both hands as I ran off the train laughing. I was laughing even harder still when Chad said, "The MONKEY! We can't forget the Monkey!" Faster than a stopped train, Chad hopped on and got Mr. Tam the monkey, who by the way was not laughing (hey, first trip jitters, you understand).
Our IMF instructions said that we were to take a bus to Kawai and then continue on bus to the town of Mitsuka. Chad had been up here before on bicycle and had gushed about the scenery and how it must be like Japan had been 50 years ago or so.
We saw only one bus in the train station parking lot and approached the driver. We showed him our paper map and asked him if he was going to Kwai and he said "yes". We asked him when he was going and he said in English, "Let's go". So, Chad, Ivan, me and Tam, the monkey, were the only passengers on the bus. We watched with glee as we left the concrete urban jungle of the city behind.
We headed for the mountains that I had always seen cloaked in mist from the windows of the Ibigawa branch. Mountains that looked like gnarled green hands almost clasped in prayer with a slim ribbon of road curling up through the knuckles. I was hoping that it would be a gentle enough curve as to not disturb my extremely sensitive inner ear and cause me motion sickness, as I was unable to find my dramamine that morning.
The ride up was beautiful! There was such a dramatic intertwine of nature and man, and we were busy trying to see it all.
The driver left us off in Kawai and told us the next bus through would be in about an hour and a half. We watched the river from a rusty old bridge and remarked how inviting it was. As we strolled up the entirely paved streets of the town (no visible grass), the sound of running water was everywhere. Fire cisterns and public faucets ceaselessly spewed hypnotic streams of glassy water every 50 or so feet.
We were perplexed that the bus couldn't take us another 3-4 kms up the road to our final destination, but realized he let us off because we had made a point of mentioning Kawai. So we had a lot of time to kill in a very small town.
We headed up the entirely paved Kawai mountainside. Apparently earthquakes have a habit of disturbing the rocks on the mountains, so the hills around the town were coated in some kind of plaster of paris-cement and wrapped with fencing to protect the inhabitants and their houses.
At the crest of the largest hill, we came upon the steps of a temple where two old ladies and an old man with a dog sat talking. They watched us with interest as we said "konnichiwa" and went to explore the temple surroundings.
I went to the bathroom, one of the fragrant public park hole-in-the-ground variety, and while fishing for toilet paper with one hand, fanned my squatting butt to keep the gnats at bay with the other (I'm learning all kinds of physical coordination skills here in Japan).
We entered what appeared to be the town's only store three times during our wait, and on the last time, managed to buy some chips to go with the 1.5 liter cold Coca-Cola that we had fished out of the vending machine up the street.
Finally, the bus came and we boarded to continue to ooh and ahh at the greenery and the lack of power lines. The bus driver told us to meet him where he let us off in two hours. On our way up, we had seen a large Shinto torii gate, and Chad thought that might be a good place to go, but our perception was that it was too far, so we hiked in the opposite direction. We saw signs for a Folk Museum that said it was 4 km up the road and we decided we didn't have time to do that either.
We walked up a road braced on both sides by vibrant green rice paddies. As we crossed the bridge over the river, we had a Tam-posing-opportunity with a large green fuzzy caterpillar. In fact, upon looking around, the ground was covered with fine 2-3 inch long caterpillar examples, some moving, some still, and some squished into patterns of green and red mush by passing vehicles.
Chad had to pee, so we went off the side of the road near the river. We heard a loud scream and wondered what was up. Later we saw two young men coming up the path from the river where they had been obviously swimming and thus probably shrieking as well. We all promised to bring our swimming gear next time.
We kept walking up the road for quite a spell and then decided to turn around so as not to miss the last bus off the mountain. On the other side of the road we found a path that lead to a great spot by the creek. The boys took off their shoes and waded as I took pictures of them amongst the velvet greens and purples.
When we got back to the place where the bus driver had let us off, we were shocked to see that the bus wasn't there. We thought that the driver was planning on staying there because he had parked the bus and had assumed a napping position. We walked up and down the four streets of the town and couldn't find a shop, a restaurant or even a coke machine. It was going to be another long wait.
I started heading towards another village clump with the Chad and Ivan close behind. We saw a woman walking her dog and she came over to check us out. We asked if there was anything to eat or drink around the area and she shook her head in the negative, but said that if we followed the road we came in on, we might find something.
So walk we did. We came across the Shinto temple that we had seen on our way up and took some time to explore the grounds there. It really was a beautiful place and we had it all to ourselves. In the back of the newly constructed cedar temple were huge trunked cryptomeria pines, which are sacred to the Shinto religion. It was a marvel to see them. Chad and Ivan rang the bell and the mellow timbre of it vibrated through the forest.
Keeping an eye on the time, we got down to the main road, walked a few more steps and came upon the bus and driver of earlier, who motioned us to go to the bus stop further down the road. He would catch us there on the way back. Chad said that the driver would probably stop and pick us up anywhere, but Ivan and I shook our heads and said that this was Japan and that it would be against "the rules".
We reached the bus stop and had some time before the bus would get there, so we finally found a coke machine and got a drink. As we were sitting there, we noticed a little girl that we had seen three times on the different parts of our journey from the Ibigawa train station, to Kawai, to Mitsuka, to Tedamoto. We waved at her from a long way off (she was wearing a memorable hot pink tye-dye shirt) and she stopped cold. Then she turned away from us and ran up the street out of sight. As she turned the corner, the bus came and we got into position as the little girl ran back with a friend to point us out.
We boarded the bus with a group exhaled chorus of "Tsukareta!" (We're TIRED!!) and the bus driver laughed because he knew how much we had walked.
Beginning the descent, we sat on the side of the bus that offered a prime view of the river and pointed out interesting clumps of trees, or agricultural fields or architectural structures to each other. It was a wonderful trip to rural Japan and the encroaching concrete, powerlines and the pulsing neon of the pachinko parlors coming into view prompted us to say that we would do this trip again soon.
We got back to Ogaki with very bitchy stomachs (we hadn't eaten for almost 8 hours) and were indecisive about where to go. I finally suggested a place that we had all passed before, but had never ventured into. It was a real neighborhood noodle shop, almost as if the owners had turned their living room into an eating establishment, I mean afterall, hadn't I been by and caught a peek of the old man sitting on the tatami in the corner in his pajamas?
We ventured in and had conversation and dinner with the owner, his wife and three other customers, one a very drunk traveling salesman from Hokkaido who kept Ivan's and Chad's glasses brimming with beer. After all that exercise, warm food, and communication exertion, we were feeling really sleepy and bid each other sayonara to head off to our individual futons.