Luckily, the route out of the city was quick, and the country roads were mostly uninhabited. Their speed limits are also the lowest I have found yet, with 70 km/h being the highest, and going down to 40 in towns.
I arrived to my first ryokan and dropped off my luggage. A ryokan, pronounced "yokahn" according to the guide, opting to completely drop the "r," which usually makes a dull "d" sound. It is a traditional Japanese inn. You sit on the floors, with tiny tray tables for meals. You sleep on a thin futon. The rooms have sliding doors and it looks like something from an old Japanese movie or even some Japanese cartoons, like Miles' favorite, Case Closed/Detective Conan. I took off my shoes at the entrance, something that you are expected to do here, and was given iced tea. Despite being an anglophile, I cannot stand tea in all forms. I remember, as a child, being given iced tea at friends' houses. I'd drink it as quick as possible, so that the taste would only hit me once. I drank the tea, as I did not want to show disrespect. Then, I walked around town.
When I initially drove up, there was someone who charged for parking for regular tourists, who ended up giving me a map of the town. The houses with shops or restaurants were highlighted, a brief history was given, a set of drawings about common meals in the area, and a handful of rules. One of the rules was that you should not walk around at night, so that you wouldn't disturb the residents. This upset me, because one of the draws of coming to a rural town, for me, is the ability to walk around at night. Since I have always lived in either a city or suburb, there is no way to get away from the light pollution, for lack of a better term. A highlight of my life was when, driving through Connecticut in the middle of the night, I was able to stop the car, shut off the engine, get out, and see pitch darkness in all directions. I had never seen such a sight(or lack thereof) in my life.
The draw of this particular town is that it is one of three towns that have an old, grass roof structure for their houses, or as they call it, gassho-zukuri farmhouses. The town is made up of about 20 of these. I followed the map to what was declared to be the best lookout onto the town. After a brief 5 minute walk, I had reached the lookout point.
Just past this observation area was a sign with a red "X," and a small blockade. The map, however, showed this road to be a peaceful 40 minute walk. Therefore, I justified it to myself that they meant that only no cars were allowed beyond this point. I continued on. While walking, I was looking for the map. After a little bit, I looked up to see two badgers or beavers, I'm not sure which they were. They looked at me and I at them. I scrambled to drop the map and grab my camera, but by then, it was too late. They had fled.
A little while later, I discovered a path headed downward that coincided with a place on the map that said it would lead to a special tree, and then the village.
I eventually found a tree that was roped off, but it did not have any special characteristics. The map said that it split and then rejoined, hence called the "couple's tree." I saw nothing of the sort. After reentering the village, I found a small shrine.
I investigated the primary gift shop slash restaurant. I bought 3 snacks that looked like cookies, to try later. I then found a stone that was referenced in the map, but I do not recall the details of its significance. It was pretty though.
Here are a few more pictures from around the village.
I saw a sign pointing to the small road that the ryokan was on, indicating that you could watch a demonstration of the making of washi paper for a few dollars. During my stay in the village, I had only seen a handful of tourists. Maybe ten total. In here was no different. It was just him, working on painting his papered creations. I walked in and took off my shoes. He came over and told me to put them back on.
There is a liquid in a small basin that had a combination of plants mixed in or something to that effect. You take a small basket and dip it into the water. Then, you rock it back and forth and repeat this a few times. Then you flip it onto the table and peal back the bottom part of the basket, to leave just a thin film. Then, you pull the paper over a sort of dryer, on the table, which sucks water out of it. You do this a few times until it is dry. Then, he gave me a try. I started the process over. Once I got to the last step, he had me add some small decorations to the top. Then, he added another layer of film on top and dried it again. He finished by putting it onto the top of another machine that heated it up and dried it out further.
He explained via hand gestures that this could also be done with clumps of the material, to make small figures, which he then painted. He ended up letting me keep my creation. It was rolled up when handed to me, so I will take a picture of the finished product when I get back from the trip.
It was time to go back for dinner. My room was tiny, with no furniture, not even a small table, and I was given a fan. It is about 85 to 90 degrees, with humidity here. With nothing else to do, I sat around the hearth, waiting. Also staying at the ryokan was a very old Japanese fellow, and a young Finnish couple. They understood English fairly well. The Japanese fellow knew none. We were served dinner.
I tried most of the vegetables given to me, and one small bite of the raw carp. I assume it was carp, because that is what the map said was often customary with dinner. I could not bring myself to eat that fish. I just couldn't. I do not and have not ever had any desire for fish. I have even less desire for anything that even looks like a real animal. I don't even like eating chicken or turkey off a bone. Having them ON the bone was tough for me to adjust to in Europe. I decided that from now on I would communicate that I was not going to have any fish. "Ee-eh" is "no" and "sakana" is fish. I know that much from the few Japanese lessons that I took. A few hand gestures and the communication is complete.
I tried making small talk a few times and told some stories to the Finnish couple. They were nice enough, but never started conversation themselves, so I took the hint. I told the Japanese man my name, in Japanese. He responded, in Japanese, his name, and then a whole lot more. I had to then say, in Japanese, that I do not understand. I know a few phrases, words, and basic communication. He had seemed excited when I first started talking to him, but he understood that my language skills were limited.
At this point, Stephanie had texted me that she was available to talk. I sprayed on some bug spray, and went outside. While they had said that I should not walk outside, I did not see the harm in walking a few steps away from the house and making a phone call. The room I was in had very thin sliding doors. There would be no talking there.
I spoke a bit to Stephanie. I was interrupted at one point by a local, walking his dog. The first time, he just nodded politely, and the dog ignored me. On the way back, the dog went right up to me. It was a cute, furry, Chihuahua. Petting the dog made me miss Elli, my dog at home.
I complained a bit to Stephanie about how the ryokan experience was not all that I had hoped for. Yes, I wanted to experience a more traditional Japanese style, but I wanted more of the creature comforts of more modern times. Air conditioning is of course the foremost on this list. However, there were two more things that I had not fully considered.
1. Privacy. Being able to see through the gaps in the sliding doors and sharing a wall with neighbors is problematic. Typing, talking on the phone, and singing is off limits under those circumstance. I really like listening to music and singing while writing the blog or being on the internet.
2. I am a bit of a weird traveler when it comes to housekeeping. I refuse it everywhere. I do not want my bed made up. I want it just as I left it. I do not want anyone touching or moving my stuff. It is how I have always been, as an adult.
In this situation, I did not have to deal with housekeeping, so I do not know why I brought it up, other than to say that I like things in a particular way. Hell, I prefer not to even go into a store, if the shopkeeper is likely to follow me around and ask me questions. Here, I was being served homemade meals. I am also a very picky eater! Although I am often a rule breaker, I do not like to offend people who mean well. I started worrying that if I didn't eat certain foods offered, and there were a lot offered, that I'd be insulting them or their culture.
So, when I was talking to Stephanie, I was airing these complaints and worried about all the small villages and ryokans I have planned, and it is a lot. What will I do? And of immediate concern, what would I do during the following day and night? There is nothing more to do in this town, and I cannot even comfortably sit in my room and relax and watch a movie! I was freaking out a bit and lamenting my choices. I figured that it'd just be one of those lessons that you learn from and make sure not to do it again.
I posited the idea that maybe I should do a day trip. There really weren't many options though. There is a more commercial version of this kind of village about forty minutes away, and the next town that I am planning to stay at next, which is an hour and ten minutes away. I didn't know what to do yet. I said goodbye and headed back to my room. When I returned, my futon bed had about five bugs crawling on it. I closed the only door that had been open, that perhaps led to the outside. I looked at the booklets that the travel planner had given me about the areas here. Then, I tried to go to sleep.
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