Ritual drama, snow, and manga porn

Mari-san met us at Oji station, and took us home, warning us to remember the way as we'd have to find our own way back tomorrow. Scary. That evening she was cooking gyoza - the 'Chinese style' (although the Chinese call them Japanese) dumplings she'd mentioned before. It involved making filling-mixtures, and then a fiddly folding of the flour papers. The recipe can be found in the usual place along with the video of Mari-san and Yu-san making them! Soon I will be an Expert Japanese Chef. If only I could master the whole rice cooking thing. To my delight, Yu and Mari presented us with a few gifts - some dried fish and seaweed and things, and a book on 'Shinto in History' - perfect!

As usual, for our next day's excursion (Kyoto), there was a Master Plan for us to follow. It was very impressive - we had a getting up time (bright and early), bicycles to ride to the station (too early for the bus), and a printed out map with all the key highlights of Kyoto marked, including several other zoomed in maps for detail. No chance to get lost or confused. There were also details of train times to go there and back, and some English versions of street names, all presented to us in a clear plastic folder.

The next day all went smoothly and to plan. Mari-san cycled to the station with us so we would know the way (she was expecting us to come back unaided - she can't be there to babysit us the whole time). We parked the bikes in a special bike-park where we paid a small parking fee.

Kyoto (of the Agreement) was bitterly cold, and on several occasions it tried to snow. But we could tell why it had its reputation as a lovely city. We imagined Hiroshima must have been something like that before it got flattened. It was full of temples and interesting old streets. We must confess that despite the plethora of detailed instructions and maps, we did get a little lost. But that wasn't a bad thing - we found a whole maze of little streets (oh, and a cool graveyard like a mini city of skyscrapers) with interspersed temples and shrines to explore and photograph (we've been unashamedly clicking away - there's so much that's different!).

We spotted a couple of Maiko (trainee Geisha girls) wandering around, and found a really cool artist who does grotesque sculptures. Also fun was visiting the posh food shops - you would go in and be offered a cup of tea while you tried samples of all the different things. Sample-tasting in Japan is a great pass-time for a tourist, I think. I was particularly surprised by all the different pickles!

After we'd had our fill of that area, and realising we really weren't where we thought we were, we spent a little time getting re-orientated (inexplicably turning up on the other side of the map in a short space of time - we really were confused) and hunted for lunch. We've discovered that Japan actually has amazing bakeries. Kiyoshi-san noted that Japanese people are naturally not capable of eating so many sweet things (and so are particularly susceptible to diabetes) so cakes and European-style sweeties are not traditionally part of the cuisine. But lately these things have started to infiltrate the shops, and if it's anything the Japanese do well, it's, well, everything. The cakes and breads and things don't really look or taste like anything you'd get in a bakery back home, but they do look and taste beautiful. This is a muchly desired lunch for us, if we can't face/afford battling with the plastic food displayed in a restaurant.

Up until this time we'd seen very few other Western people - even in the obvious tourist destinations. So anyone you happened to pass, your eyes would meet and a kind of look of brotherhood and fellow-feeling would pass between you. In Kyoto, us Westerners were everywhere - we were definitely more on-the-beaten-track now.

After lunch we decided to break up the constant temples with a trip to palace and castle. On the way we passed through the official 'Maiko-zone' to see if there were any more apprentice Geishas about. It was difficult to gather what sort of role they play in modern society, but in the past they seemed to be sort of professional 'escorts'/entertainers ('Geisha' means 'performance-person'). All through the zone were exclusive looking restaurants and mysterious doorways. Intriguing.

The palace was situated inside a giant public park - although unfortunately it was impossible to even catch a glimpse without getting a special tour. The outer walls are high, and buildings low. Foiled. The castle was similar, but, well, we had some time and hadn't bought much, so we got tickets. It was late in the day and things were closing up, and a loudspeaker told us to hurry up and visit the palace section first. This was the bit where the Shogun (warlord, we think) gave audience to various feudal lords. It was so beautiful and old and strange. I could imagine shoeless people in heavy clothing pattering politely up and down the paper-clad corridors among all the ancient artwork. Trying to patter, anyway. The floorboards were designed to squeak to prevent people from sneaking up on the inhabitants. We had time to nip round the rest of the grounds (just missing out on a tea ceremony demonstration) before a tinkling version of Auld Lang Syne played over the loud speakers, telling everyone to go away. I'd heard that it was the 'going home' theme tune in Japan, but it was still really funny to hear. I suppose it does have a sort of finality, end-of-day feeling to it. We also find it hilarious how the Japanese appear to be trained to do/expect different things at the playing of different music. Like the 'bibbly-bibbly-bibbly-bip' of 'train approaching', and the French film-music style 'Shinkansen stopping at a station.' Obedient to the music, we headed home to our hosts, and even managed to cycle back in the dark no bother. If only Edinburgh streets were that flat.

Mari's friend Ikumi came over that evening, as the next day (lunar new year) was a public holiday. They gave us a little explanation of dates and things - the lunar calendar is used, though not as much as in China. And they mark the passing of solar years completely differently - I was really surprised. For example, the date stamped on our JR pass was 23.2.3 - 2 and 3 were the month and the day, but 23 was the 'Japan year'. That meant that it was the Emperor's 23rd year of ruling. Each time period begins with the 1st year of the new Emperor, and is recorded 'name of Emperor, number of years.' We have been educated!

After dinner we had a briefing for next day's excursion (it's non-stop! We were pretty exhausted) - Nara. This is the main town to which we were staying on the outskirts of. There was another set of maps, and a walking route marked plus another warning not to let the deer eat our JR passes. They're considered to be messengers of the gods and you're not allowed to reproach/hurt them in any way. As a result they roam the streets getting fat off 'deer cookies' which people buy to feed them.

The next morning was a blanket of snow with more falling, so we were glad of the lift Ikumi-san gave us to the station. It was even colder than it had been already, so we'd resorted to the old trick of wearing all our clothes at once, with the added bonus of chemical handwarmers (Yu-san swears they're the secret to Japanese legendary life-expectancy rates) tucked into my mittens.

Everything was really beautiful in the snow, although we must again confess to getting completely lost and consistently failing to follow our designated route (we think we managed to make it all up again and see all the bits, even in the wrong order). I was presented with further evidence that the Japanese really have thought of everything: in the Ladies toilets there's often a cubicle-less mini-urinal with a low sink next to it. No, this isn't yet another bizarre toilet technique, it's for mothers to teach their little boys the ways of men's toilets!

There was one beautiful shrine up a hill in Nara with particularly lovely dangling cloths. These were for devotees to grab hold of and bang a bell with (to get the god's attention). Then you throw money into a trough, bow twice, clap slowly twice, and bow again (presumably saying your prayer at some point). You can also write your request on materials you can buy from the shrine (different in each place) and hang them up for the attention of the gods. It's a very human approach to deities in a way - they won't notice you until you make some noise to get their attention, then they will read your request (I suppose you're reminding them it's there). The bell ringing/gong banging thing is interesting because in Western traditions I always feel like it's the opposite - to get people's attention and call them to prayers. I'll learn more once I've read the book Yu-san and Mari-san bought for me!

It was cold and wet, so Paul and I found a nice heated restaurant with lots of hot tea in it, and had our first attempt at Ordering By Ourselves (essentially by process of logic matching the plastic food to the translation on the menu and pointing). Satisfactory results!

Then we got lost some more, watched a deer eat someone's map, and eventually remembered that we'd brought a compass. Problem solved! It was a lovely day - Nara is a gorgeous place. I recommend it. But we had a schedule to keep - we were due to meet Mari-san and Ikumi-san in the car at 5 at the station to go to Grandmother's house. As I mentioned the Japanese have thought of everything, so we'd already put a few overnight things in the car and were ready to go.

As today was Japanese New Year, the family had planned something special and cultural for us. We drove to Yu and Tsuru's mother's house, where she was waiting at the side of the road with huge smiles. She couldn't speak any English, but she was a great communicator - with enthusiastic mimes. We knew who she was as soon as we saw her - she looks just like Tsuru! She lives in Hota (also part of Nara), which is a very old and traditional village. Her house was such a contrast to the ones we'd visited so far. They'd all seemed quite Japanese to us, but this one made them seem veritably Western. It was over 100 years old, and made up of lots of screen doors, an outer corridor, and some inner rooms with a small personal shrine. She also had an outhouse of sorts where the old kitchen would have been, but now contained the shower and shed. She's a proud gardener, and her garden is beautiful. The house was freezing (due to paper screen doors, probably!) so we all huddled in the kitchen/dining room with one of those marvellous heated tables, and Grandmother brought out big padded Japanese coats which we piled on.

We had a few cups of green tea, while Mari and Ikumi disappeared to get us good spots for the Otaue ceremony we were going to next. It's a ritual drama performed just outside the temple for new year, for fertility and to encourage the growth of rice. Suffice it to say, from my ethnology background, I was very excited.

It was quite a small gathering there. When we arrived we found we'd missed the shaman/priest purifying the participants, but people were still gathering for the performance itself. Mari had (very kindly) written us a translation of the explanation sheet. She wrote that the 'Otaue' ceremony is very popular and varied in Japan. 'Otaue' means 'rice planting', and at this time devotees pray to the gods for a rich harvest for the year The ceremony particular to Hota is called 'Kodeke-onda' - 'Kodeke' meaning 'a child is born' (as one of the characters is an expectant mother). They don't know when this Otaue ceremony started in Hota, but there is old language and customs in the ceremony, and it is said that Kodeke-onda has taken place since the Heian period (around 794-1185AD).

The temple was lit up by lanterns, which was very pretty, and there was a buzz of excitement from the assembled children who were to be taking part. They had all removed their shoes (each given bags to put them in) and were crowded round the edges of the stage area. Traditionally it was only men and boys who performed, but more recently girls have been included too (no women). Yu-san never took part when she was a girl, for example.

After a lot of to-do and announcements and proclamations, things got underway, and we all huddled inside our giant traditional Japanese coats for warmth. There were 2 main dramas. To start with men acted out a number of little scenes whereby they were hoeing the ground/planting rice/cultivating with oxen, etc, whilst children threw stuff at them and shouted (they were playing the winds). After each of these scenes the children would all rush at the actors and pile on top of them, attacking them as 'the storm'. But each time they would be overcome and the farmers' rice would be successful.

The whole thing was light-hearted, fun, a community event. There was something about the way the actors played the roles which was almost tongue-in-cheek. This was clear when, after the first play had finished, a couple of small kids looked round at me and started screaming. Well, for a moment I thought it was me they were looking at. Actually, they were screaming at a man dressed all in white and with a painted white face approaching. All the adults laughed. He was playing the expectant mother. It seems that drag is funny wherever you go, and this fellow had a particularly fine mince.

After a little dialogue with the leader of the ceremony (who told him/her to take lunch to his/her husband in the field, being careful of his/her step), (s)he tucked a drum under his kimono (pregnant tummy) and shuffled daintily around the stage (shrill lady noises now and then). Children attacked him/her in the guise of snakes and holes in the ground, but eventually she made it with the lunch ot the rice field. She had another discussion with the leader of the ceremony about how much rice her husband grows, what sort of thing she had in her kitchen, etc. Then there was a great commotion, a bang of the drum, and the baby was born. Mari-san explained that the sound of a drum is 'bon' in Japanese, which is also the word for 'son' in a dialect in Western Japan - so it's probably a pun of some kind. Lastly a final performer circled the stage sprinkling sacred rice with a call-and-audience-response about millionaires and sowing seeds of happiness in the world. We managed to capture some of the ceremony on video so along with a rather interesting crossing we spotted in Fukuoka, it makes up part of our "Japanland" video.

After the ceremony we went and collected bunches of camellia branches, which we were told were a talisman for a good harvest for the year. Farmers offer it at their household altar for the relevant gods, but ordinary people lay them in their houses for the well-being of their family. This concluded, we hurried back to Grandmother's with our branches, looking forward to dinner. She had made a traditional dish eaten on this day (whose name I forget) which was a mound of cold rice mixed through with various shredded things: raw seafood, pickled things, seaweed, and scrambled egg. It was really good. All in all, a great evening. Ethnologists eat your heart out!

Then everything became like a big sleep-over. Paul and I were given wheat seemed to be a guest room at the back of the house, whilst Grandma, Yu, Mari, and Ikumi camped out in the 2 furniture-less central rooms. Futons materialised all over the floor, with electric bed warmers and layers and layers of blankets. The next morning we ate the leftover rice, and I paid a visit to the shower in the outhouse, which was gorgeous and old-fashioned, and covered in blue tiles. Mari-san showed me big pots in which her grandmother was making ume-boshi (preserved plums used in Mari's recipes) and a plum-infused spirit. The night before we'd been given a little pot of ume-boshi to help with our travellers' tummies when we hit South East Asia. I was very excited about this as I'd become particularly fixated with them and their use in cooking (they taste horrible just by themselves). There's something about preserving processes which always fascinates me!

Today was to be a family outing to Osaka, but Ikumi had to go home. So she and Mari took our bags back to Yu's house (so organised). Grandma took us on a walk round the village in the new sunshine. It was beautiful, esp. with the snow gently dripping off the rooves. She explained things occasionally with big, smiley, gesturally annunciated mimes. Then we headed on the train for our next exciting destination!

When Grandma had been young, so they told us, Osaka was the big glamorous city where everyone longed to go. We got the impression that this trip was a bit of a birthday present for her (she'd turned 88 the day after my birthday), and there was another special treat in store for us - a Kabuki (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kabuki) play.

Kabuki is another form of traditional drama, dating back to the early Edo period (around the 17th century) and is distinctive to the Kyoto-Osaka area. Whilst up until this point a lot of Japanese theatre had been complex and philosophical, only appealing to the educated classes, this was the theatre of the masses (think Shakespeare). Important features were the colourful costumes, lavish stage settings, and all-male casts. Apparently at one point female actors had been introduced, but this as seen as far too sexy and they were banned again. So more stylised men-playing-women, then!

This particular play was a tale of family tragedy and revenge of fighting masters. It's a popular Kabuki play to perform. The show was starting at 11am, and outside the theatre were ladies with stalls selling very neat little packed lunches, so we stocked up. We took a quick tour round the busy streets nearby, before ascending many many flights of escalators to our seats at the tops of the theatre.

The whole format was very stylised, with white-faced 'women' on a constant moan, whatever the scene was about, wailing in high-pitched falsetto. The audience applauded every time an actor came on stage, and to our surprise members of the audience would shout things out at them. We couldn't work out what was going on for a while. Was this part of the show? Like a panto 'he's behind you'? Two men behind us were particularly vocal, trying to out-shout each other. Yu-san explained later that this was a custom at Kabuki performances - the shouters were supporters and were shouting out the actors' names. Sort of like, 'Go Matsumoya!' It was a skill to wait until a convenient point in the scene where it wouldn't disturb things. So we got used to the shouts of 'Matsumoya!' and were comfortable in our understanding of the system. Until we realised that the shouters were calling that name indiscriminately of whether or not Matsumoya was actually on stage. I felt quite sorry for the other actors.

At the interval another thing I've never seen in a British theatre happened - there was an almighty rustling as every single person in the theatre got out their packed lunches. After Yu-san had explained everything in the first act we hadn't understood (most of it!) we opened ours up too. It was very strange to sit at the theatre enjoying this mass picnic.

Act 2 came and went (with a really interesting take on fight scenes - they were never going to make it look convincing, so they made it look as unconvincing as possible with some dainty hand-gestures and opponents falling gracefully to the floor), and another interval allowed the crew to rebuild the set. There was the sound of much hammering coming from behind the curtain. They really did put in a lot to those sets - they were spectacular! It seemed that the play was going on for a lot longer than any of us had anticipated - we emerged blinking into the rain at 4 o'clock. Thank goodness for those packed lunches! Another fascinating cultural experience from our eternally generous hosts!

After that we took a look round a couple of Osaka's market areas. First was a mega food market, where we stumbled across one of the worst pet shops I've seen (although I'm sure there's worse to come). In Fukuoka we visited another and I was quite shocked by the dogs and cats living in tiny cages - creatures so pitiful you wanted to buy them just to rescue them from the shop. They also had a couple of owls tethered up for people to buy as pets, and an insane monkey bouncing around its cage (and that was a nice big shopping-centre store). At this pet shop there were hamsters in cages just big enough for them to rattle and pace backwards and forwards - they actually looked like they had obsessive compulsive problems. And little budgies crammed in so many in a cage they were crawling on top of each other. In fact the shop (which was actually a cupboard-sized booth) was floor to ceiling with stuffed-in birds. The only one with a bit of space was a myna bird which only spoke Japanese. Anyway, enough moralising over pet conditions. I'm hardly an animal rights activist!

Next market was for selling cutlery, crockery, and all sorts of kitchen appliances from big professional cookie-presses to all the cups and teapots you could wish for. They even sold those plastic things which show you what your dish will look like. I have to say, I quite wanted one.

Exhausted, we headed home (saying goodbye to Grandma on the way), on the way buying a farewell cake, as it was our last day with Yu and Mari. We showed them the European way of having tea and cake - with the extra addition of natural yoghurt on the side. They saw us off at the station the next day, as we headed towards Tokyo. We had a brilliant time with them and all of Tsuru's family - such a privilege for us that they shared their view of Japan with us!

Tokyo was a whole new world, especially after the peacefulness of Nara and Ikaruga. So rushed, so many Europeans! We made it as far as our subway stop before getting lost, but we were soon surrounded by a crowd of helpful Japanese people humming and hawing over our map. And so we sweated our way to the hostel (it may be winter, bit when it's sunny and you're carrying a bag that only seems to get heavier, it's hot!).

It was Sunday, and all I really knew about Tokyo was that on Sundays the crazy-fashioned youth gather at the Harajuku bridge. So we made our pilgrimage there. We alighted at the station and were greeted by a sea of people moving in both directions. Actually, the bridge was empty of its famed Harajuku girls posing for photos, instead populated by little gatherings of 'free hugs'-sign holders and one lone goth boy. No matter, it was a glorious day and we took a walk in neighbouring Yoyogi park.

We toured round the Harajuku shopping area later. And although there weren't many people posing on the bridge, there were a helluvalot of well- and interestingly-dressed people all over the shop. I realised Paul had a bit of a thing for Japanese girls! Paul's favourite shop was one called 'Condomania'. It was cupboard-sized, but packed full of curious punters. The guy at the counter looked deathly bored, and I got the impression people probably go there more to look than to buy.

Harajuku was worth visiting at night. The streets continued to be seething with people, and we found small streets with great 'alternative' shops. The Japanese must be among the most fashion-conscious of the world. I suppose a lot about Japanese culture is all about the presentation. We went to a little Italian place for pizza (because, well, sometimes amongst all the noodles and assorted sea creatures you need some comfort food) and it still had a smoking section, shock horror! Then, as everyone else on the street was doing it, a funnel of crepe with Exciting Things inside. There were so many stalls displaying so many plastic models of the fillings it took even Paul (yes, even Paul) a long time to decide what combination of cream/fruit/ice cream/cheesecake to choose. It was Awesome.

That night we discovered that the hostel was another of those which didn't believe in giving you anything but a thin duvet to sleep under, even in winter. Quite a contrast to the heavy layers we'd come to expect. Brrr. It also employed triple bunk beds, sort of like the capsules at the famous capsule hotels.

Monday was cold, and we had some recommendations of places to visit thanks to helpful Facebookers. Oh yes, and it was Valentine's Day! The Japanese were quite into it, but in all honesty I was half hoping to see something so ridiculous that only an Asian mind would be able to explain it. Never mind.

The Palace was closed, so that was the first thing to cross off our list. Then we went to Akihabara - electric town. It was just that - all the electronics you could wish for. Plus shops to cater for men who might be spending too long in front of a computer - namely porn. The district had a weird clutter of electrical goods, 'adult amusement parks', girls wearing dresses reminiscent of cute Victorian children handing out fliers (couldn't tell if it was for something creepy and pervy, or something completely innocent) and all the Anime and Manga a geek could wish for. Trips into comic shops (and they're BIG) revealed that most of it is some form of porn (getting harder the more floors you climb). The whole concept of manga porn is fascinating. It's a huge deal, and is extremely violent and explicit. Well, there's so much more you can do with a drawing than with real people. It seems to be a way of indulging extreme sadism and mild (although not always mild) paedophilia without harming anyone (except perhaps the cartoonist). I was starting to wonder why that was the only place in Tokyo Oliver had heard of to recommend to us...

Porn aside, we took trains and saw other places - huge department stores, toy shops which were frequented by adults, but weren't 'adult' (the Japanese thing for cuteness and gadgets again). As we braved the crowds in Shibuya that evening (the lights! the big pretty lights!) the rain became mingled with snow until we were both drenched and white-clad. We thought, 'sod it', and went for an Indian.

The snow was unexpected and surprisingly heavy. We decided to call it a night for our Valentines (not really, obviously I'm not that kind of girl!) excursion, and went back to the hostel to work out how to use the heater and huddle for warmth.

It was time to move on again on Tuesday, for the last of our super-organised Tsuru-trips. And by far one of the most exciting. She had arranged for us to stay in a Ryoken - Japanese hot springs inn. We'd already had our onsen experience with Kiyoshi-san, as Paul mentioned in the last post. I'd found it really daunting as I'd gone in alone, with no real idea of what to do and no-one who spoke English to help me. I had known about the getting naked with everyone thing, which didn't bother me (come now, I make my living being naked), but my big fear was that somehow I'd misunderstand, and get naked at the wrong time, or when no-one else was at all! So I'd spent a good 5 minutes peering furtively around the changing room, having a panic to myself. When I finally got the courage to go in, it was steamy and mysterious, with lots of shadowy bodies sitting in front of mirrors with showers. All around, old ladies were sitting and gossiping together, towels perched neatly folded on top of their heads.

It was quite a lonely experience, but it was good practise for the Ryoken, where there was even less information, and less people to copy! I have to say, being a native of Bath (a Bather?), slightly resentful of the fact that the Roman Baths are no longer in operation, it's nice to have something close to that experience. I love the Japanese bathing culture - and I would go to the public onsen all the time if I lived there!

So we got on our train and headed towards the Hakone region (not far out of Tokyo under Mount Fuji). This was an area where our JR passes wouldn't help us, but Tsuru instructed to buy a local pass, and we trusted her judgement. A misunderstanding over the trains left us going backwards and forwards between stations for a little while, but eventually we headed through the melting-snow landscape under sparkling sunshine. A little old-fashioned looking train took us up into the mountains along little tracks, tunnels, and snowy banks on either side. Train led to cable car, which took us even steeper up through the village, dropping us a short walk from the Ryoken.

The norm here was to don your kimono and live in it during your entire stay. Our room was a typical tatami multifunctioned room, with table and chairs during the day, and futon laid out on the floor at night. We put on our kimonos and slippers, and headed for our respective segregated pools for a dip in the natural springs (mmm, sulphur). It was a lot smaller than the big public onsen we'd been to - just an indoor and an outdoor pool. The only other people in the ladies' were a couple of Swedes, which I felt was quite fitting really. And they spoke English, so at last there was someone I could talk to! The bath looked out over snow-clad bamboo/conifer forest. It was so quiet, so peaceful. I want to go to spas more often!

Dinner was another adventure. We headed upstairs and a lady led us to a little enclosed booth with sliding door. Each guest had their own separate dining room (as though you can only see other guests when naked), with dinner already laid out. It was another array of lots of little things. Lots of fun. A short while after dinner we were also able to use the private bath with just the two of us - very romantic!

The following morning we took advantage of the baths again before another varied breakfast. Then we left our big bags at the hotel and went to see what our 'Hakone free pass' could do for us. Turned out quite a lot actually - it was well worth the money - thanks again Tsuru! We started off by seeing how far the cable car would take us, as we were curious to see what was at the top. But once we were there we found signs for 'transfer to ropeway.' We were curious to know what the ropeway was (raising memories of that fateful day in Hawaii). It turned out to be some gondolas (I always thought that was a type of boat you got in Venice). The free pass allowed us a ride, so we found ourselves soaring up over the snowy mountains in the twinkling sunshine, Mount Fuji to the left, sulphur steaming out of the rocks below. (Incidentally I love Mount Fuji. It's so Japanese - the most perfect and neat volcano-shape you can get. With perfectly arranged snow on top.) Beautiful.

At the end of the line you could transfer to another ropeway, so we did - twice as it ended up. We had landed next to a lake, and weren't sure what to do next. There were signs to transfer to a sightseeing cruise, but we thought, surely the freepass doesn't include that. But oh yes, it did! We found ourselves boarding a ferry dressed up as the HMS Victory, complete with Japanese guy dressed as Nelson. Very surreal.

We disembarked at the other side of the lake to see if there were sights to see. We eventually found an avenue of huge cedars (marked on the map) and sloshed along it through the melting snow to wait for our next replica ferry-costume (a pirate ship?) to take us back to the gondolas.

It was quite a random day, all in all, but we got some amazing views with that freepass which seemed limitless in its capabilities. But this was sadly our last day in Japan, so feeling relaxed and cheery from our nice easy day, it was a return to Narita - the last airport on the trip we were actually returning to. Second-to-last flight.

We stayed overnight in the town just by the airport (Narita itself) in a very nice hostel, then prepared our leave from Japan! We had such a good time here, mostly due to Tsuru and her family, who we are eternally grateful to. It remains the weirdest country I've ever been to, and definitely my favourite of the trip so far. Waiting to board our flight, we encountered an entire army of Japanese school-kids flooding down the stairs, all neatly turned out in their school uniforms (imagine having to go on a school trip your uniform!). In fact, there were only about 20 of us on the flight who weren't in the school group. And it was a big plane. So the last surreal moment of Japan - a plane full of Japanese school-girls!