It was a rough night of sleep, in spite of the fact that we had done a full day of activities. Escher, who is on a regular feeding schedule, didn’t know whether or not he was in the US or Japan, but he knew that he was hungry. Every time, he woke up, Elizabeth woke up, and then I woke up. It was right around 6am, when I was at a point where I should’ve woken everyone up for good. Escher had been feed, he went back to sleep. Elizabeth went back to sleep, but then I went back to sleep. Close to an hour had passed before I looked at the clock and it was 8am. It was starting to be a late start, if we were going to make it to the train station, then to Nagano, and up to Yudanaka before dark. I decided to take a shower and packed up, but Elizabeth was still snoozing. I had all of my bags packed up, so I headed down to 7-11 to get a snack and some energy drinks, and I told Elizabeth to start getting ready.
While in 7-11, I grabbed a few things for myself and some snacks for her, then went back up to our room.Elizabeth was still slowly packing up, while I was left standing there watching until she was at a point where Escher could be packed into his stroller. I was pretty anxious about the unknown process of getting our rail passes, then getting on the shinkansen. I knew that arriving just a few minutes slower could result in us just missing a train, then having to wait 45 minutes to an hour for two reserved seats on the next one.
It had been raining all night and it looked as though the rain hadn’t stopped. The hotel windows had drops of water dripping down the pane and the sky beyond was still gray. We got Escher packed in, then joined 5 Japanese business men in pinstripe suits with briefcases in the elevator. We stood quietly during the 11 floors down the the lobby, then we all filed out in the politest way possible. We handed off our key card, then prepared our umbrellas for the rain that awaited us. It was estimated to be a 20 minute walk to the Tokyo Station. We could continue down the direction, from which we had arrived, then after turning right, we would walk down the long street that would end with the station in front of us.
It was right around 9am and the whole workforce was out on the streets. The sidewalk was filled with umbrellas and fast walking, which made us really feel like we were one with the city. We walked past a number of food shops, but I insisted that there would be food and coffee at the train station. If we just kept walking, we would be there before we knew it. The walk was pretty much a blur, but I clearly remember there being a giant, bronze giraffe that towered in front of one of the buildings.
As soon as we arrived at the Tokyo Station, the JR office in which we could exchange our vouchers for rail passes was straight ahead. All we had to do was wait in line, hand over our vouchers and our passports, and we were ready to go within a few minutes. We looked up the next train on the schedule and we had about 45 minutes before the shinkansen departed. We would need to reserve a ticket at the ticket booth, then get some coffee and breakfast before our 2 hour trip. Our train was leaving around at 10:30 am, but all of the restaurants looked like they were closed until 11am. We happened to see one bar open in the train station, which also conveniently served breakfast. We walked in and looked at the menu, which had 3 breakfast items. There was a place with rice and toast and two different english muffin sandwiches. One sandwich was labeled that it had ham on it and the other one didn’t have meat advertised, but secretly had sausage. I ordered one of each, along with a cafe latte, and a cafe mocha.
We stood at a bar against the wall with the stroller and our bags leaning against the wall. When they called our number, I went up to the register only to find out that both sandwiches had meat on them. Elizabeth wasn’t happy. I went back up to the register to order the toast breakfast and told him that she didn’t eat meat. He said that he wouldn’t charge us extra, if we returned the uneaten sandwich. Since I had already started eating my egg sandwich and I was disappointed with it. I was pretty happy that I wouldn’t have to eat the second sandwich. Instead of a fresh made meal, I was eating a poor quality, frozen food sandwich, wrapped in a sealed plastic package, microwaved to a scalding temperature. While I feel like I shouldn’t be above such meals, I feel like I should be able to get a decent sandwich at a bar in Japan.
After we finished eating, we walked to the Shinkansen concourse of the station. By then the station was packed with commuters. While you’d think that the crowds would have subsided since it was getting be after 10 o’clock, we needed to dash in and out of the crowd to get to where we needed to go. We made reservations for our seats, and by 10:34am we were on the platform waiting for our train to arrive. The shinkansen trains seemed to arrive and depart within 5 minutes. So, you had to be ready to get on as soon as the train arrived. We rushed onto the train, which was virtually empty for now, then stowed our luggage at the end of the carriage, and continued down the aisle to our seats.
The first part of our journey was traveling through downtown Tokyo. Then we continued through the suburbs, filled with small houses, each neighborhood containing a baseball diamond or soccer field with stadium lights. After only about 30 minutes of travel, it looked as though we were out in the country. We were reminded of our previous rural train journeys through the United States and Europe, which made you feel like you could be traveling anywhere in the world and still feel comfortable that you were somewhere familiar.
The shinkansen ride was smooth and comfortable, reminiscent of the bullet trains that we traveled on in France. After only two or three of stops along the way, we arrived in Nagano, the site of the 1998 Winter Olympic Games. I had loosely planned which trains we would be taking on the google maps app. It looked like if we hurried off the shinkansen train and hustled to the local subway station down below, we could get on the next train to Yudanaka in less than 10 minutes. We gathered our luggage, exited the train, then looked for an elevator on the platform. We headed to the main concourse and as we looked around, we could tell that this had a completely different feel from Tokyo. There were a lot of people around, but there was nowhere near the amount of people as there was at Tokyo Station.
The train station was clean and airy, but while Tokyo Station felt like there were a million places to eat, we only saw one or two little coffee/pastry store fronts in the main space. We continued to the right and scaled a long staircase into a large open area. To the left was a 40 foot tall logo for the 1998 Olympics. We followed the signs to the subway, which brought us outside, then down an escalator. When we reached the floor below and hurried to the gate. As we got to the subway entrance the employee in the office put his hand up. “We are going to Yudanaka!” we said. He told us that we had just missed the train and the next one would be departing in about an hour. I had noticed that the gate didn’t have the touch pad for the Pasmo card. This also wasn’t a JR station, where we would be able to use our rail pass to travel. So we went over to the kiosk, purchased our tickets, then checked the schedule again so that we would definitely be back in time to make the next train.
Since we now had an hour, we had time to get some lunch and even head out to the street for a few minutes to check out what the station area had to offer. Elizabeth had been complaining about her bag not closing properly and still wanted to get some new waterproof shoes. It was just our luck that as we reached the top of the elevator and arrived at the street view, we saw a Don Quixote store across the town square. Don Quixote, whose logo was a blue penguin with a red Santa hat, was a discount store in Japan, where you could find almost anything that you could imagine for reasonable prices. While the Walmarts in the US take up a city block or more and have a massive parking lot, the “Don Key” was 6 floors of retail space with each floor containing different department store departments.
We went up to the 3rd floor, where we saw some shoes and bags in excess. We looked down the aisles for shoes and without really looking Elizabeth dismissed their selection. I wasn’t going to give up so easily. She had complained the whole previous day that her shoes were inadequate for the rain. Knowing it that would plague us for the rest of our journey, I was going to make sure that she found these shoes. I found a pair of knock off pleather Keds that looks like they would perfect. There wasn’t any mesh or holes, anywhere for water to get in. I called her back over to the aisle from the other side of the store, where she was getting interested in something completely unrelated. She came over and looked at the shoes. While she wasn’t crazy about the color choices, gave them a try. The first pair didn’t fit just right, but after trying the second pair, we had found a winner. Unfortunately, they were a pink/salmon color, which I didn’t think that she’d be interested in wearing, unless she had no other choice. However she agreed to wear them anyway.
The next thing to check off her list was a bag with a zipper. The store had every bag that you could imagine. I knew that there would be something that stood out to her somewhere in the store. We looked down three aisles of bags, but there wasn’t one that stood out to her. We had all but given up, but as we were walking toward the escalator, Elizabeth found some tote bags with zippers on the top. They were clever little bags that had English and Japanese sayings with graphics of pets. Elizabeth found one with two dogs and she decided that it was the one. We grabbed a few snacks, and then went to the register to check out. We went out the second floor exit, then looked over the edge of the escalator, down to the square below and across the street to the train station. The exterior of the station had a wood awning that reminded me of a ski lodge. I got the feeling that it either influenced or was influenced by the Winter Olympics presence there.
We crossed back over to the train station, where we could see a few little dining spots, through the windows on the second floor of the building. We went into the station and took the escalator up to a floor where we found an indoor open market. There were lots of different kinds of counters will lots of different kinds of food. Bento boxes, sushi, octopus balls, and sweets. We each grabbed a little tray of food, then went back down to the subway level to wait for the train. This time we had our tickets ready as we walked down the long ramp, then up the stairs to the platform. As we got on the train, it was already filling up. There were benches along each side of the carriage and a luggage rack on top and while I feel like the previous city trains were narrower than these, what was missing was the massive amount of people standing shoulder to shoulder.
The train to Yudanaka was going to take just about 90 minutes. Half way there, we would have to get off our commuter train, then switch to another. Essentially going from one track to another on the same platform. As we looked around to the other passengers on the train, we knew that we were heading to a tourist destination, because while we appeared to be the only caucasian people in Tokyo, we were surrounded by caucasians on this train. There was a couple opposite of us that sounded like they were Australian and I thought that I recognized German being spoken by a family in the corner of the carriage.
While most of the trip from Tokyo to Nagano felt like it was open countryside, from Nagano to Yudanaka, there was a series of small farming communities along the tracks. You’d see a village of small houses, and think that while in America people mostly farm grass in their backyards, these people farmed everything. There were fruit trees and vegetable gardens. Some only a feet across and fenced in, while others took up an acre or more. Every once in awhile, you’d see a woman out tending to her crops.
As the train headed further down the track, we got closer and closer to the mountains, which would be completely covered in snow in a few months time. When we got off the first train and onto the second, we went from sort of a subway style train, to a passenger train with rows of seats two on each side. The trim and red velvet fabric on the seats, made train feel old compared to the Shinkansen, but there is a certain charm to things that look old in a country that feels so modern. As we got on the last carriage of the train, there was a big angled window in the back with rows of seats facing backwards. People quickly filled those seats to have a 180 degree view of the route. As the train started moving, a woman came through with candy, maps, and souvenirs. While this was something that I’d seen on other trains, it seemed strange that on a train so far out in the country, someone was waiting for us to arrive to purchase items with the snow monkeys on them on the train car. I guess that even in rural Nagano, people need a way to make extra cash.
When we arrived at the station, we gathered our baggage from the overhead bins, and were the last people on the train. The Australian couple that we had been in close proximity with helped us with the roller bag and stroller as we walked down the steps from the train car to the platform. “Are you going to see the monkeys?” They asked. “Yeah, but we are going to our hotel first.” I replied. “The park is only open until 4pm. You’d better hurry.” They said. We followed the crowd of people that were on the train out of the gate, but when I arrived there was a man there collecting the tickets. I reached in my pocket and looked into my bags, but I couldn’t find the ticket anywhere.
“I must’ve left it on the train,” I said. So I ran back to the car that we were on, leap up the stairs and checked the row that we were sitting in. It looked as though everything that we had brought on the train was taken off and the ticket might be lost for good. I went back down to the platform and walked to the gate. The man assigned to take the tickets held out his hand and all I could do was look at him and shrug my shoulders. “I don’t have my ticket,” I said. And he let me pass without blinking an eye. With our luggage in tow we walked down the ramp towards the station exit. The crowd of people from the train were all lined up to buy bus tickets. There were signs near the ticket window advertising the monkey park. We were sure that when we got there, it would be packed with people.
Yudanaka and Jigokudani Snow Monkey Park
We disregarded the crowd and as we followed the directions that I looked up before, a man stopped us as we were crossing the street. “Do you know where you are staying?” He asked in English. “Yudanaka Seifuso,” I said. “It’s the second inn on the right,” he said while pointing. We continued walking across the street in the direction that the man pointed. Aside from the train station, the town looked to be pretty mellow. There was a small main street near the station, but from the station to our ryokan, we only saw a few houses. Much like the houses that lined the tracks heading out to Yudanaka, the yards were filled with vegetable gardens.
The rain had stopped since we left Tokyo, so while the temperature was a little chilly, we didn’t need to bring out our umbrellas. Just as the man at the station had mentioned, we turned to the right at the fork in the road, and there was our ryokan, second on the right. As we approached, the automatic door opened, and in front of us were rows of shoes in front of a step, on top of which was carpeted. As soon were took a few steps in, we were greeted with smiles. One from a balding man in his late 60’s or early 70’s and the other from a woman in her 40’s, whom I assumed was his daughter.
We removed our shoes and walked to the check-in desk. I greeted them with my Japanese words, then handed them my passport, so that they could look up our reservation. The ryokan, which felt like it had been there for hundreds of years, was decorated in natural wood and the check-in counter was minimal in design, with only a few writing utensils on top for when people check-in. The innkeeper took my passport, then went through a doorway behind a curtain, where he sat down at a computer and looked us up. The daughter asked us, if we had reserved on booking.com and I told her that we had. Then she went back to the innkeeper and passed on the information. He came back to the counter, where I filled out a form with my name, address, passport number, and where my next destination was, then the daughter, told us that she would show me our room. She helped me with our bags, then took me up the carpeted stairs, and around the corner to our room.
She unlocked the door, handed me the key, then went back down the stairs. They room was about two to three times larger than the room at the Belkin Hotel and the minimal amenities made it feel even more wide open. There was two futon mattresses on the floor with blankets covering them, a small table to the right with a teapot and water warmer, where you could sit and drink tea. Across the room was a separate space that was only about 3 feet across. There was another small table with chairs, where you could sit and look out the window to the street. Next to it on one wall was a mini-refrigerator, across from which was a sink with a vanity, where you could ideally wash your hands and face or brush your teeth.
Before we headed to see the monkey park, I needed to use the restroom. I walked down the hall to the shared bathroom. Typical of most restrooms in Japan, there was the hole in the floor toilet, paired with the hi-tech futuristic, heated toilet seat style toilet. While in many ways, this ryokan felt like it was stuck in the past, they knew the importance of the modern toilet in Japanese society. As I walked out of the shared restroom down the hall from our room, I heard Elizabeth calling up the stairs, “Honey! Honey! What are you doing up there?”
I walked down the steps and said, “I was using the bathroom.” “Well, come on we are going to see the monkeys!” She said. “What?” I responded. “Get your shoes on!” She said. Apparently, while I was up using the bathroom, Elizabeth mention that we wanted to see the monkeys, then instantly the innkeeper grabbed his coat, put on his shoes, then headed for the door. We looked through the automatic glass door and there was the innkeeper in a silver minivan that looked even mini-er than a typical minivan. Elizabeth and Escher got into the back seat, while I sat in the passenger side. It felt strange sitting in the American driver’s side while the innkeeper drove from the right side. I took a video of the experience to capture it’s strangeness.
He drove us down the street towards a big arched gate that said “Welcome to the Monkey Park” with some large painted monkeys on it, but before we got to the arch, the innkeeper turned left. He started taking us down a road that looked like we were headed for nowhere. It had to be assumed that he was taking us some secret way that no one else besides locals knew about. Within minutes, we arrived at an intersection. During the whole 5-10 minute trip, the innkeeper barely spoke, but at this intersection, he told us, that this is where we would get on the bus to go back to when we were done. He continued driving us up a hill and into a forested area.
He pulled the minivan to the side of the road and implied that this was the place. There was a small shop that looked like it was closed that said, “Monkey Park Visitor’s Center”. There looked to be all sorts of souvenirs and brochures inside that someone could procure, if the center was open. To the right of the store was the trailhead. We got out of the minivan, then said our goodbyes, and as he drove off, we walked towards the trail.
The trail was mostly flat and it reminded us of some of the hikes that we had taken in the past. There were tall trees that resembled the coniferous trees, that we typically saw in Yosemite Park. The further we walked on the dirt and stone trail, the more it felt like we were back out in nature. There wasn’t anyone else on the trail for a few minutes, so we started to feel all alone in the world, a huge change from the busy streets of Tokyo. To the left of us on the trail, there was a steep wall of dirt and trees, which was occasionally broken up by a trickle of water, where there might be a creek forming. In the Spring, this is where melted snow runs down to the river below. On the left of the trail, was a steep decline covered with trees, which if you slipped and fell down, you might not be able to get back out without some help. We could hear the rush of water below, which we assumed were rapids or a waterfall, and we were comforted by this change of environment from the city.
The walk through the forest was only about a mile and a half, but we imagined as we had what it would’ve been like, if we brought our 16 month old, Hendrix. Would he be able to stay on the trail? Would he run off the cliff edge and roll down to the forest floor? We were glad that we wouldn’t have to find out. Escher was sitting snug in the baby carrier, with Elizabeth, and while she is a slow walker under perfect conditions, hiking through the woods with the baby, wasn’t speeding her up. We started seeing groups of people walking from the other way and openings in the woods revealed the river below.
Within a few minutes the woods opened up and we could see the amazing forest around us and the river and rapids below. Across the river was a building that sold food and was attached to an inn that looked like a large house. The further we walked, we noticed that there was a bridge that could take you across. To the left, we saw a parking lot to the inn and thought about how much it had to cost to stay there, if the place that we were staying was $120 per night. “These people REALLY must want to see the monkeys!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
We continued down the trail and beyond the entrance to the bridge was an iron gate that said Monkey Park. There was a steep staircase up ahead and then a steep walkway to the right. It was hard to imagine someone in a wheelchair or an elderly person taking either route, but we opted for the stairs. All of the walking was starting to get to Elizabeth, but once we made it to the top, we saw the wooden lodge ahead with the ticket window to enter the monkey park. Now, she was starting to get excited.
We walked up the final few wooden steps to the porch of the lodge, then we purchased our tickets. We then continued through the entrance to the lodge, which also doubled as a little museum, which gave information about the monkeys, and a gift shop which sold any monkey park souvenirs that anyone would want. They had keychains and magnets, but also postcards and even DVD’s of the monkeys running and climbing, which was on loop behind the register. We continued through and exited on to the back porch. We were told that we shouldn’t have any food or the monkeys might smell it and try to grab it, so we made sure that we buried any snacks we had deep in our bag or we threw them in the receptacle nearby.
We didn’t have to go far to see the snow monkeys. On the trail just ahead was an adult monkey just walking alongside of us. We wondered what kept the monkey from going to the other side of the house and running around in the forest, because there didn’t appear to be a fence of any kind. The further we walked down the path, the more monkeys that we saw. Some were sitting quietly and doing their monkey thing, while others were running around on a mission of some sort. We were surprised by how close we were actually able to get and have the monkeys not be startled in the least. There was even a mother and baby monkeys sitting on rocks right next to the path, who let us take their photo.
I made sure that I didn’t make any sudden moves or get too close, because I had no idea what these monkeys were capable of. They could jump and rip my face off in a matter of seconds. When they moved, they moved with speed and determination. The slightest thing seemed to put them on their guard. About 100 feet down the path was a bridge that crossed over the river and rapids, along with a path that lead down to the river. There were monkeys walking up and down the path, and there didn’t look to be any ranger monitoring their activity. So we were a little skeptical of going down to the river. We opted to play it safe and cross the bridge where there was a man in uniform and a group of people taking pictures with the monkeys. Straight ahead was a cliff edge with netting covering the rocks. I’m not sure if this was to keep the monkeys in this area or to prevent rocks from falling on unsuspecting tourists, but the monkeys seemed to love climbing on it.
In this area there was the outdoor natural spring, where the monkeys supposedly gathered in the winter to bath. You could see the webcam sending footage to the world, but unfortunately there was only one monkey even near the spring. This monkey couldn’t possibly represent the hundreds of monkeys that were walking around and climbing. If you looked at the webcam and thought that maybe you’d only see this one monkey sitting there, you might miss out on the insanity on the other side of the camera. At one point, one monkey started getting in a conflict with another monkey, then one of the monkeys started jumping around on the cliff and screaming. All of a sudden, 100 monkeys came running down the cliff to the flat area that we were standing on. Within seconds half of the monkeys had run past us, jumped over rocks and a fence, then down to the river below.
Much like the pigeons of Saint Mark’s square in Venice, people were doing all they could to get the perfect photo op with these animals. While I didn’t see anyone trying to pick up or feed a monkey with the man in uniform there and the number of signs everywhere, people were leaning and crouching a little closer than I thought was safe. This wasn’t a bunch of birds (which I can’t imagine are too happy with some of the attention at Saint Mark’s), these were super strong wild monkeys, that just lost their minds a few minutes ago. Elizabeth and I did take a few photos from a safe distance and I tried to take a few videos for a documentary that may or may not ever get edited.
After watching the man in uniform for awhile, I noticed that he was pretty much only sweeping up the monkey feces and wasn’t really doing anything to regulate. I remember paying the fee to enter the park, and thinking, I wonder, why we are paying to see nature, but after I saw the guy sweeping the poop, I knew that he needed to get paid.
We checked our watches then, decided that if we were going to make it back to the ryokan before dark, we were going to need to start walking back. We walked back across the narrow bridge and back up to the lodge. Because we couldn’t leave without buying something. We ended up buying a magnet with a monkey on it.
As we started heading back through the woods, it started getting darker and darker. Occasionally, we would see a family power walking it to the park. We remembered the Australian couple telling us that they didn’t think that we would make it in time, but here were people that actually probably wouldn’t make it. By the time we made it to the trailhead and down the visitor center, the sun had already set. We walked down the road towards the bus stop that the innkeeper pointed out. Elizabeth didn’t know when we going to eat next and was getting tired, so we stopped at a little restaurant, so that she could get some coffee. The young woman working who took our order spoke perfect English. Without fail I was caught off guard. I told her that she sounded American, and she told us that she had lived in Hawaii. She seemed a long way from America to be working at a coffee shop surrounded by luxurious resorts that specialized in their natural hot springs, but I didn’t ask her to tell us her story.
Along with Elizabeth’s coffee, I opted to order an ice cream cone, which for me, is like the epitome of vacation food. While I will occasionally eat ice cream at home in the States, I feel like most of the time I am fighting myself when I do. But on vacation, I throw caution to the wind when it comes to ice cream. We sat on the patio for a little while and enjoyed our purchases, then talked about what laid ahead for us this evening, in regard to the hot springs at our ryokan and dinner. When we were finished we walked in the dark, down the quiet road to the bus stop. It had been awhile since a car or bus had driven by and while the bus schedule on the sign looked like we might still be able to catch a bus, we concluded that this schedule might be seasonal.
Finally, out of the darkness walked a tall, white, young woman with a long ponytail and a backpack who was walking towards the bus stop. “Excuse me, are you taking the bus back to the train station?” I asked. She said that she didn’t think that the bus was stopping at this location after 4pm, and that there was supposed to be a bus stop down the road. Elizabeth had been hidden in the shadows to nurse Escher. When she was finished, we asked each other, if we should follow the woman to the bus stop down the hill. If she was right and no bus was coming, it would be best for us to at least head down the hill to find out.
We walked down the dark road keeping to the edge, because there wasn’t a sidewalk. The sun had fallen well below the horizon and the towering trees around us kept out any light that could’ve been creeping in. About a quarter of a mile down the road, we saw a building with a turnaround and some parking. Ahead was the young woman walking towards a bus stop sign. In front of us was a main road with cars driving pass every once in awhile. A bus pulled up and the driver opened the door, the young woman asked the driver, if he was going to the bus station. Their dialogue was inaudible, but as she backed away, I got the impression that it was the next one.
Moments later a yellow bus with a red top pulled into the driveway and the three of us got on. We were the only people on the bus. The bus was dimly lit with yellow bulbs that tinted everything on the inside. We started talking to the young woman about her trip. She was taking a similar route through Tokyo and Kyoto, but she was doing it all in less than a week. She told us that it was her first time in Japan as well. She appeared to be in her mid-20’s and exploring the world on her own. We asked her where she was from originally, then she told us that she was from Antwerp, Belgium. We told her of our adventures in Brussels, with our friend Jeremie and how we made stops in Bruges and Ghent, but didn’t make it to Antwerp during our time there.
Similar to our usual conversations with Europeans, we went through the different places that we visited on our European Adventure, then asked her about the different places that she had visited. Much like the other Europeans that we had talked to, she had visited Paris and Amsterdam, then we commented on how close Belgium is in proximity to the two cities. She seemed to have a travel bug as she told us about her trips to the US.
The most famous destination in the US for most Europeans that we talk to on our travels is Los Angeles. While we are biased because we live in San Diego, we always tell people to come to San Diego instead. We explained how overwhelming Los Angeles can be for tourists and that even living 100 miles away, it’s hard to imagine doing more than one thing in a day there. We explained that Los Angeles has lots of great museums and restaurants, but even if you rented a car, it would be hard to check out the Getty Art Museum, Griffith Park Observatory, Hollywood, Santa Monica, Venice Beach, Universal Studios, and Disneyland in a week and still feel like you saw the whole city. But I guess that when I put it that way, maybe it is a great destination, as long as you don’t really have to drive.
By the time we tried to convince her to come out to San Diego, we had arrived at the train station. She walked up to the platform to head back to Nagano, and we re-oriented ourselves with the station area. The whole space around us seemed different in the dark, the lights of the train station and surrounding area were skirted in darkness and fog. We were ready to eat the dinner that we had previously scheduled before our trip began. We navigate our way down the narrow road, where we travelled earlier to find our ryokan.
Dinner at the Yudanaka Onsen Seifuso
We walked through the glass automatic doors, where the ryokan had the same silence that we had experienced before, except this time the innkeeper didn’t seem to be around. We removed our shoes at the step, then headed back up to our room. We had reserved the dinner over e-mail weeks earlier and it was scheduled to take place from 6:00-7:00PM. We didn’t notice a dining room on the first floor, so we assumed that they would be bring our dinner to us on the small table in our room where the teapot was located. I was exhausted from traveling throughout the morning, then walking to the monkey park. I was also still jet lagged. While it was only dinner time in Japan, it was almost breakfast time in the US and I hadn’t even slept.
I laid on the futon mattress on the floor and tried to stay awake, while Elizabeth tended to Escher. She had reached a point where she couldn’t wait any longer to eat, then decided to go down to the front desk to ask them what the food situation was. A few minutes later, she opened the sliding door and told me that they had forgotten that we had ordered dinner and that they would start preparing it now. She didn’t say how long it would be, but said that they would grab us when it was ready.
About 30 minutes later, there was a knock on our door. We picked up Escher and followed the woman into a guest room across the hall. As we walked through the second sliding door, revealing the room, we saw an intricately organized table with a numerous small dishes and bowls laid out in perfect fashion. The woman brought a pillow for Escher to lay on, and we sat down on the floor with our legs crossed on opposite sides of the table. The woman asked Elizabeth if she was vegetarian, as we had mentioned it previously, then asked if fish was okay, and Elizabeth said yes. She asked us if we needed anything else, then Elizabeth ordered water and hot sake. Shortly after the woman walked in with a carafe of water and a bottle of hot sake with some cups.
As we looked over the table at all of the different food items that we had to choose from, it was hard to know where to start. Everything looked new and different from anything that I had eaten before. I knew that I needed to at least try everything, even if it seemed weird, but I wasn’t going to eat mushrooms. I don’t like mushrooms. The one thing that stood out on the plate, which Elizabeth was instantly repulsed by was a whole fish with eyes, scales and everything. It looked to be smoked, but I wasn’t exactly sure what the fish was. It was about 6 inches long and probably a traditional dish, but it was new to us. Elizabeth said, “You can have mine.” and handed me the plate of fish across the table to me.
Everything else seemed to be in order. There was pickled cucumber and miso soup, a small dish with raw, sliced octopus tentacles, and a large bowl of ramen. I took my time tasting everything that my chop sticks could pick up. I even ate the two six inch smoked fish. It was definitely weird skinning the fish, which is something that is usually done before it is on my plate. It was also strange trying to avoid the fish’s ribs, which would sometimes break off on my chopsticks. I would contemplate whether or not one would get stuck in my throat on the way down if I were to swallow it, resulting in me choking. I carefully and meticulously made sure that all of the bones were picked away, before eating. It did feel like there were a lot of mushrooms on my plate, which I was assuming was a region crop. While people are tending to their gardens all over area, some are probably growing mushrooms for pairing with sashimi or to be placed in ramen soups.
When we had finished everything or at least tried to eat everything on our plate, we placed our chopsticks down in front of us, then retired to our room. One of the reasons that we picked this ryokan, or any ryokan for that matter, when we could stay in a hotel with a real bed and a tv, was because there was onsite hot springs. There were two open baths, which were designated women only or men only depending on the time of day, then one private bath for couples and families. Elizabeth was excited about going into the private bath, so we grabbed the towels from the closet and a blanket for Escher to rest on, then went down to the first floor to try out the hot spring (onsen).
The Onsen
While there are public onsens all over Japan, some that require membership, some that are invitation only, and some that are fully public with a fee, it was truly an amazing thing to be the only two people in the private bath. I’ve heard stories and seen public baths on TV, where there are hundreds of naked men wrapped in little more than a dishcloth. They are sitting around talking naked and having a good time, all the while their tackle are floating about. Yuck! That was not how I was going to be experiencing the hot springs, the public way didn’t seem relaxing or medicinal at all.
Elizabeth and I walked down the steps to from our room and around to the back of the inn. We passed a little sitting area with magazines, a little nook with games, and the gender specific onsens, then continued to a wooden door, which was cracked open a bit. We walked down a few steps into a room that was split into two sides. One side had addition towels and an area to dry off, where we placed Escher. The other side of the room, beyond a glass window and door, was the rectangular wooden bath. “Do we need to wear our bathing suits?” Elizabeth asked. “I don’t think so,” I responded. The room had a fairly tall ceiling while the floor, walls, and ceiling were lined in natural wood. Two of the walls had windows that started half way up, which were fogged with steam, and seemed to be blocked by trees and bushes on the outside.
While it looked so private, the openness of the room still made me feel more naked than usual. The bath was about 5 feet by 6 feet and while it was just the two of us, there probably could’ve been another few people in the tub, if there needed to be. We slowing dipped our feet into the water which was easily 110-120 degrees fahrenheit. It was almost uncomfortably hot, once I was able to get in up to my waist. At the same time my muscles were completely relaxed. I tried to think of other times that I had been in water so hot, and only a few weeks earlier when I got stung by a stingray, I had to put my foot in water that was as hot as I could stand it.
The water flowed constantly through the faucet and the deeper we sunk, more water would pour over the sides. I could only stay in for a few minutes, before needing to sit on the side, then getting out entirely. I used the shower that was next to the tub, then we dried up and went back to our room. After the long day and the tenderness of my muscles at this point, it was the perfect recipe for me to crash out early, even though it was only around 8:30 PM.
We cuddled up on the futon, which had every blanket in the room stacked up, then within minutes we were done for the night. I slept soundly even through Elizabeth and Escher waking up every few hours. However at around 3am, I was wide awake. I tossed and turned but, it was no use. I grabbed my tablet, then flipped through facebook and instagram to read about what what happening in the states. Eventually, I thought, “I bought a tripod for the camera to take photos at night. I should go out and walk the streets for a little while to see if I can get some long exposure shots.” I got my clothes on, then grabbed my camera and tripod. I went through the double sliding doors, then slowly walked down the hallway to staircase. The floor creaked with every step that I took and I wondered if my tip toeing would wake anyone who would was trying to sleep in the adjacent rooms. I walked down the staircase and all was quiet. There were a few lights on, but for the most part the lobby was dark.
Early Morning Farmer’s Market
As I approached the automatic door, I wondered if it was locked up for the night. I quietly sat on the step, then put my shoes while surrounded by the shoes of the other guests, who were staying there that night. I approached the door again, and when I pressed the keypad that let us out before, the door didn’t move. I didn’t want to force it open or make a ruckus, so I took my shoes back off, then went back into the room. I was eventually able to fall back to sleep for a few hours, but once I noticed that it was light out again, I decided that I would go down and give it another try. I put everything back on, then grabbed my camera. When I went downstairs there looked to be someone in the kitchen, so I figured that the door would be open for the day. After I put on my shoes, I headed out the door to see what I could see.
I walked back up towards the train station, to a Lawson convenience store, that I saw illuminated the night before. As I got to the open street across from the train station, I saw that there was a little farmer’s market set up under a canopy on one side of the road. I continued to walk to the Lawson, where I grabbed some drinks, snacks, and a coffee for Elizabeth. On the way back, I decided to stop to take a look at the little market that was set up. It was only about 25 or 30 feet across, but there were about 10 vendors with little shops set up. Some people who were selling vegetables and fruits had crates set out, while others had just a few pieces of fruit on a small table. All of the vendors seemed pretty friendly with one another. They all seemed older than 50 years old, but there were one or two, who could’ve easily been in their 70’s.
I walked passed them at first, but then I thought, “I should help the local economy. I need to help the little people make it in this world.” So I circled back around to look for something that I would be able to actually eat or prepare on our trip. I knew that whatever I would buy, I would have to carry along with the luggage and the stroller, so it would have to be small. I saw two women and a man talking. In front of them was a bag with four large apples. I got out my cheat cards to ask how much they would cost and when I found out that they were 300 Yen, I instantly got out my Big Boy coin carrier and got out the change. These huge apples that would probably be $1.50 each in the US, I was going to get for about 50 cents each. I knew that these apples were going to be delicious and healthy, because these little old ladies weren’t using toxic Monsanto pesticides on their apples, or I at least hoped that they weren’t.
After I got a quick picture with the lady, courtesy of the little old man next to her, I took my bounty back down the hill to the ryokan. Just before I got to the corner however, there was a man that was only a little older than me, standing in front of crates and boxes of produce. He had bottled sauces that you could try, by dipping fruit or crackers. He was also giving out free hot matcha green tea. He handed me a small Dixie cup of tea and because I’m not used to getting anything for free, I looked down to the hot water dispenser. There I saw a sign that said, 100 Yen. I got out my change carrier, then handed him the 100 Yen coin. He looked at me confused, then I pointed at the sign and held up the cup. He laughed and shook his head, then said something in Japanese that told me that this small cup of tea was free.
I had a really good feeling about the morning so far. As I continued down the quiet street, I thought about how nice and courteous all of the people were in this town. Even though, there are probably tourists coming in regularly to see the snow monkeys and acting like they run the place, all of the people had a politeness and glow. They seem to show their appreciation for your enjoyment of their culture. I went back up to our room, where Elizabeth was still sleeping. I slowly nudged her to wake up, as I told her about the apples, that I bought and the farmers market.
I asked her if she’d like me to make her some tea. In the dark, I dumped an excessive amount of dried green tea leaves into a small teapot. I probably only needed a few spoonfuls, there was easily a cup of tea leaves in a two cup pot that I couldn’t see. I added hot water from the gallon sized water heater, which seemed it take water and instantly make it hot, without fire or needing to be plugged in. I waited a minute or so, then poured some tea from the teapot to the tea cup. I tasted the dark tea, that was made even darker in the dimly lit room and it tasted horrible. I poured Elizabeth a cup and she said that it was undrinkable. “How much tea did you pour in there?” She asked. I turn on the light and showed her. She reacted in a very disapproving fashion, as if she couldn’t believe that her husband couldn’t make a pot of tea.
Eager to remedy the situation and actually make a decent cup of tea, I looked for a trash can to dump out some of the excess tea from the pot. When I couldn’t find one, I saw the sink by the window and thought, “People dump tea leaves down the sink, right?” A huge clump of tea dropped into the sink and even though I had the water flowing as strongly as it could, the tea didn’t seem to go down very easily. I tried helping it along the way, the way I might try to get hairs down the drain after shaving, but it looked like I might actually be clogging the sink.
The more that I stood there letting water fill the sink, the more I thought that I was doing more harm than good for the moment. I hoped that somehow throughout the day, maybe people would use the sink, then it would make more tea and the leaves would eventually dissolve. Does that happen? I didn’t know enough about tea to really know. I felt bad that the nice people in the lobby may have to come in with a plumber to de-clog the tea from the pipes, but I hoped that wasn’t the case.
I went to the small table, then tried again to make some tea with the small amount of leaves that were still in the teapot. While this tea was a bit more drinkable, I still feel like I failed in the tea making event. It was probably better for me to stick with energy drinks the rest of the day.
I asked Elizabeth, if she wanted to pack up, then head to the station soon. She reminded me that we were staying at a ryokan with an onsen. We should take a dip one more time in the hot spring before we left. I went down the stairs first to see if anyone was in the private onsen and the door was closed and locked. I listened and could hear people on the other side. I walked over to the onsen room to the right. After misreading the schedule, I walked to the door. Just then a Japanese woman was walking towards me and was startled that I was not only entering out of nowhere, but I was a man entering during the woman’s scheduled time. I excused myself, then backed away towards the onsen that was scheduled for men only during the morning.
I opened the door and to the left as you walked in, there was a sink. To the right was the secret bath of paradise. I thought back to 3am when I couldn’t sleep, when I could’ve taken a dip in solitude. But then again, I was the only one there. Through the doorway, the floor was made of slate and in the garden around the large hot spring tub, there were bonsai trees and small sculptures. I feel as though I stepped through a time portal to the past. There were two different decorative faucets that continuously refreshed the water, and the sound of the water was all that could be heard above the absolute outdoor silence. As you stepped into the water from the cold air, it was much easier to appreciate the extreme temperature. During the winter months, when people are in the area to ski or see the monkeys in the snow, going from a cold 30-degree air temperature into the water would be amazing. Getting out, however, would be a shock to the senses. It was calming to just sit meditating, while looking at the trees, fountains and sculptures.
After some time sitting in the onsen, I showered, dressed, and went back up to our room to make sure that we were all packed. We brought everything downstairs, then went to the desk for check out. One of the women went upstairs to our room to make sure that we had gathered everything, while I was paying for the room. She brought us 10 Yen, which must have fallen out of one of our bags. The old innkeeper signed us out and we paid in cash for the night. In addition to the most amazing hospitality that we had experienced in our travels together, the innkeeper gave us two more fresh apples and a small jar of apple jam, which they had made in house. If nothing else they placed their own label on the jar.
We said our thank yous and goodbyes, as they bowed, we also bowed. Then we were off to the train station. As we walked up the hill to the station, I noticed that the farmer’s market was still going strong. The gentleman that gave me the free green tea was packing up his goods and as I looked over, he gave a cheerful wave. We purchased a ticket back to Nagano, then went up to the platform, where we were joined by a few other passengers, who looked to be on their way to work or school. We boarded the train when it arrived, then once again sat on the side benches of the commuter car. With every stop, there was a group of uniformed school girls getting on the train, then sitting with their eyes on their cellphones. Each cell phone was housed in an obnoxious, protective case resembling a rabbit or a pokemon or some other cute creature.