I asked her if she got some sleep after her husband and son left at 2:30 AM. She said "no, she couldn't go back to sleep". I said "kowai so" (that's too bad). She said she would get some sleep before noon and then she had to prepare for two guests staying that night. "Kowai so" again. After I finished eating she offered me a ride up to the highway. I gratefully accepted.
It started raining the moment I stepped out of her car. I gave my thanks for her kindness and slipped on my poncho. It was much colder and of course wetter than the day before. However, without any stops before my next reservation I did better than 5km/hour and arrived there before noon.
The Minshuku Hikari was well advertised from the road so I found it easily. No one was at home so I set my backpack in the genkan with a note telling them who I am and that I will return around 1:PM.
I took my bentou to a local high school where they were playing a baseball game. The rain had stopped but the field was fairly wet and sloppy. Even though I don't consider myself a big sports fan it was hard not to get into the game. The kids were trying so hard that I had to cheer their successes and commiserate with their failures. I don't know what the parents around me thought of this, but no one said a word nor cleared an open space around me, so I guess it was cool.
The owner of the inn was just returning when I came back. He and his mother were friendly and inviting. They set me up in my room, offered me lunch (which I declined), helped me start my laundry and started a bath for me. Not once did he speak English, although his Japanese was very easy to understand.
After all was done, I asked him what time dinner was because I wanted to duck into town by train to find an internet connection. He then waved me into his study to use his computer. In perfect English he said "this is an old computer, but it works." After some probing on my part, I find out that he was in the Japanese Foreign Service for 20 years, worked in Malaysia for 17 years and had a masters degree from Southern Illinois University. He, his Malaysian wife and daughter speak only English at home. He spoke nothing but Japanese for three hours and then "BAM" perfect English! When I asked him why, he said that he wasn't sure he wanted to talk to me. Sandbagger!
Dinner was great. He invited me into his dining room afterwards for a bull session. I enjoyed listening to him tell me that "paying taxes is a sin". He knew more about the American tax system than I did. He told me about the effectiveness and low cost of the Japanese social medicine system (which I knew, but not in such great detail). It was refreshing to speak with not only a knowledgeable but enthusiastic person. He had almost convinced me to move to Japan and spend my winters in Malaysia with he and his wife's family. I don't know if that will ever happen, but it was nice to be temporarily transported from the rain and pain of the pilgrimage to the white sandy beaches of Malaysia. He gave me an open invite, who knows?
Thought for the day
The weather was as hot and dry as the day before was cold and wet. Spring weather is crazy no matter where you are (except Malaysia, I hear).
To reduce my day's walk from 30km to 24km I decided to ride the train as I neared IwaMotoJi (T37). This meant about a 10km walk through the mountains. The first 4km was pretty smooth but the final six were pretty rough. I crested a peak at about 5km and walked a ridge the remaining distance to Rokutanji station. From there I rode the train the remaining 7km to near IwaMotoJi. The temple and surrounding town is about 1000 feet above sea level, but the day became overcast and muggy as I arrived.
I was pretty heat shriveled when I exited the train. I got lost trying to follow my map (one of the few instances where the map book was a little off). After much wandering and trying to follow the signs I decided to just go directly at where I thought it should be and sure enough there is was.
I noticed that most if not all of the temples were not easy to see from a distance. They were either behind trees or tucked away behind a hill. This seems opposite to Christian churches where their giant crosses and high steeples can be seen for miles around. I think this has something to do with each religion's views of it's followers. In Buddhism the believer is viewed as a seeker who must search for remote and hidden places to gain wisdom. Christianity on the other hand is an evangelical religion that sees believers as lost sheep who must be beckoned or called to the faith.
IwaMotoJi is a large temple and I spent about an hour looking around. Again, the cultural significance of much of it was wasted on me because of my western upbringing. However, I could appreciate that even the simplest of artifacts, such as a knotted rope or the arrangement of mikan (oranges) in a shrine, were created with care and devotion.
I arrived at the Suehiro Ryokan around 4:PM. Even with the train ride it was a long day. The kamisan was very polite and showed me to my room. It was an older inn, but was pleasantly surprised to see they had a washer and a drier. I started my laundry and took a bath before dinner. The kamisan was quiet and retiring. She said that she doesn't get many foreigners and apologized for not being able to speak English. I assured her that based upon our location on the map it was I who should apologize for my poor Japanese.
I had been having problems falling asleep that past few nights (although, I slept fine after doing so). So after dinner I headed to the kusuriya (drug store) to buy some sleeping medicine. The pharmacist was an outgoing man in his 50's and was very enthusiastic about helping me. He first showed me the standard sleep medicine, but suggested I try a Chinese sleeping medicine instead. It was of course packaged much different than the commercial brand. A gold paper envelope about the size of a credit card. He told me a list of ingredients. Most of them went right over my head, but I did catch "fox ear". He told me it was expensive, about 300 yen for an envelope. I said I would like to try it, but also buy the commercial brand to hedge my bets. He told me to let the medicine dissolve in my mouth. He said it was mazui (nasty tasting) but I could wash it down with water after it dissolved. I thanked him and left the store. By the way, after looking at the receipt the commercial brand was actually more expensive per dose than the Chinese medicine.
I returned to the inn and did my evening stretching and foot massage. I then opened the Chinese medicine envelope. There were three little black pellets. They looked like BB's. I popped them into my mouth. Holy smokes they were nasty! It was hard to believe that much evil taste could be packed into such small objects. I stuck to it though and once they were dissolved I washed it down with a bottle of water I had on hand for the occasion. I did fall asleep quickly, but I think that had more to do with me wanting to escape consciousness to avoid the taste in my mouth.
Thought for the day
The day was muggy with little wind. However, the walk was short and I arrived at the Uchidaya inn around noon. The owner was a pleasant man in his late thirties. He allowed me to check-in early. I dropped my pack in my room and headed back to a restaurant I had seen earlier.
I immediately recognized a henro I had met on my first day. I was surprised to see him, because he was a strong walker and I assumed he would have been way ahead of me by now. He waved me over to his table. I asked him why he wasn't days ahead. He said that he lives in Okayama on the mainland above Shikoku island. He returned home for a few days rest and had just returned. I told him how lucky he was to be able to do that.
While eating he showed me a can of foot spray he had been using to prevent blisters. I was only mildly interested at the time because I had not developed any so far. (This was a case of foreshadowing if ever there was one.)
He had a reservation beyond where I was staying so we walked together as far as the Uchidaya. We wished each other good luck and said our goodbyes. I wish I had exchanged email addresses with him. Oh well, "ichigo, ichie" would have to do.
The Uchidaya was a very beautiful inn. It had recently been remodeled so my room smelled of new tatami mats. Very soothing. The owner let me use his computer to read my email. While in his kitchen I met his 14 year old son, Hajime San. A tall athletic boy with a kind face and excellent manners. He asked me how old I was. I said 43, he said you look much younger. The kid's a genius!
Hajime San was wearing a cast on his left foot. He told me he broke it playing soccer. I asked him where his crutches were. He said he doesn't use them because he can't get around quick enough with them. His father told me that they have been sending Hajime to private English lessons since he was in grade school. He was shy to speak English, but after some prompting on my part he began to speak it. His English was quite good really. I think the prospect of actually speaking it to me was a little daunting. I offered to help him with his English later. We agreed to meet for a discussion at 9:PM.
The dinner was excellent and was beautifully presented. The owner had a gift for not only making delicious food but also making it look delicious. He told me that he had learned from his mother, who still lived with them in their end of the inn. I asked him if she ever helped him prepare the meals. He said occasionally when it's busy, but otherwise it was his kitchen.
I returned to my room and promptly fell asleep. I woke up just in time to meet up with Hajime San. We talked for about 40 minutes. He told me they had hosted a student from New Zealand last year and that he will go there as an exchange student this summer. He says he wants to become an English teacher to Japanese citizens living in New Zealand and a Japanese teacher to New Zealanders. With his attitude and the support of his parents, I think he will do well in whatever he attempts.
Thought for the day
The day was muggy but a slight breeze made it tolerable. As afternoon approached the breeze died and it felt like I had an extra 4kg in my pack. Fortunately I made it to Nakamura and was sitting in the coffee shop of the Hotel New Shimanto by 1:30. I had gotten ahead of myself again so I would stay two nights in Nakamura to fall back.
The hotel doesn't have an internet connection so I asked the owner of the coffee shop if there was an internet cafe somewhere. As always the hospitality of the people in Shikoku is surprising. Sometimes bordering on embarrassing. He immediately started calling around town. A couple of the other customers joined in the search and before too long they had found the best option to be the local library. He offered to drive me there, but I just couldn't accept it. It was only about 2km away so I thanked him, paid for my ice coffee and headed out.
The library was quite nice. I checked my email and then browsed their English book section. It was small but had some good titles. I was surprised that they had an almost full collection of Philip K. Dick novels. There must be a story behind that. So I stretched out in a chair and started reading "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep". I immediately fell asleep (just like in college). Three hours later the librarian woke me up to let me know the library was closing. And "no" I didn't dream of electric sheep.
I stopped at a ramen shop on the way back to the hotel. At the hotel, I took a long hot bath and went to bed. The commercial sleeping medicine worked just as well as the Chinese medicine without the awful taste.
Thought for the day
To my surprise the river did look clean. A dark aqua marine color with no garbage in it or on the shores. This area is near the mouth of the river where all the pollution runs to. I can't imagine the amount of effort it takes to keep it clean. Because of it's fame and consequent impact on tourism, I can only assume that it's more than a misdemeanor to be caught polluting it or it's tributaries.
Thought for the day
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| The southern tip of the peninsula surrounded by Shimanto River |
My walk to the Kumomo Inn was quite short, only 15km. The kamisan welcomed me warmly and showed me to my room. She bounded up the stairs and then bounced back down. She was so perky and genki that I had to mention it. She just smiled and said "I keep busy" and then bounced away to the laundry room with my clothes. I then lumbered back up the stairs to my room.
There were four of us henro at the Kumomo. We had a great time at dinner. The kamisan not only prepared our meals, she also grew all the vegetables and rice used to make them. Someone mentioned the name of the inn he was staying at the next night and she warned him away with stories of filthy baths and itchy skin. She was being totally honest but we couldn't help but laugh. She is definitely somebody. Her husband showed up around 7:pm. He was a handsome man in his 50's and quite friendly as well. They showed us pictures of their daughter and two sons. All attractive and living in Tokyo.
I once again complimented her on how genki she was. She asked me to guess her age. I was on thin ice. So I made an honest guess, took five years off it and said 48. She laughed and said 56. A young henro called her "Obasan" which means auntie. She laughed and said, "call me Onesan" (big sister) with a look of mock admonishment. So that's what we called her and she seemed pleased.
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| Me and my "Big Sister" | A fine business woman |
There are three main paths from Temple 38 to Temple 39. The one I decided on was a backtrack up the coast past the Kumomo and then west into the mountains. The only problem was that once I got into the mountains the next inn was a little far (33km) and getting a room there would be touch and go. I mentioned this to my fellow henro. After fifteen minutes and as many half-baked plans, our "Onesan" suggested I head down the coast to T38 tomorrow, stay the night at my reservation, come back up the coast and stop into Kumomo to let her know I'm passing. I would continue to walk a couple of more hours and then she would come pick me up and bring me back to stay at Kumomo. The next day she would take me back to where I left off and I would continue to T39. This was a win-win for both of us and I gratefully accepted her plan.
Thought for the day
She ran me through the plan one more time before I left. I thanked her and headed out. The day was sunny but muggy with no wind. I walked down the coast along highway 27. This stretch of the coast was in many ways the most scenic so far because there weren't as many seawalls. Many of the beaches were white sand with lots of surfers.
In some spots highway 27 turned into little more than a shady country lane. There was little or no traffic along these stretches. It reminded me of the walks I used to take through the woods as a kid. Where the air was so still and hot that nothing moved. The trees, the grass, even the motes of dust in the sunlight... all frozen as if in golden resin. Very surreal.
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| Quiet stretch of highway 27 to Cape Ashizuri |
The scene became even more surreal when I rounded a quiet corner and came out into what can only be described as a street party. I barely had time to adjust my mind before being assaulted by it's sites and sounds. This was Golden Week. (A week of national holidays strung together.) So the streets were packed with tourists, cars and motorcycles. In one parking lot I saw about 75 Harley Davidsons. All the riders were Japanese, but you would never know it by their dress. I can only imagine what it costs to own and maintain a Harley in Japan. These guys were true enthusiasts and not a "dirty bike" in the bunch either. (Again, a great photo op missed.)
I navigated my way through the throng (not 200 meters from where I took the photo above) to KongoFukuJi (T38). It was very crowded in the courtyard. Quite a different scene than I'm used to seeing at a temple. Regardless, I made my rounds quietly and left.
I walked the remaining kilometer to the FukuTaYa Inn. It was tucked away on a quiet street overlooking the sea. It was quite clean and my room was right next to the genkan. A stiff breeze started blowing in from the sea, cooling off the room. I took a bath and got my laundry ready. The kamisan could tell I was tired so she walked up to me, said "I'll do it" and took my laundry out of my hands. I said thank you, went to my room, laid down and passed out for a couple of hours. The kamisan woke me for dinner.
Thought for the day
Breakfast was excellent. Miso soup, rice, tsukemono, dried mackerel and a scrambled egg. This was a standard breakfast but it really hit the spot on this day for some reason.
The kamisan, a tall handsome woman in her 50's, brought me my laundry, clean and folded. She then handed me a bentou box as osettai. I thanked her, she patted me on the back, said "ganbatte" (do your best) and gave me a sympathetic look. I hadn't thought of it until then, but the vacant look on my face when I showed up yesterday and then passing out in my room must have looked pretty pathetic. I guess the past few days of walking in the heat had worn me down. It took seeing it in her face for me to recognize it.
I headed back up the coast. The plan was that I would drop into Kumomo to let Onesan know that I was passing and then continue on towards T39 for a couple of hours. Like they say, "the best laid plans sometimes go astray" and this was one of those times. I really don't know how I did it, but I walked right past Kumomo without even seeing it. The sad thing is that it wasn't because I wasn't looking for it. I just didn't see it. (More proof that I was worn down.)
I knew there was trouble when I came upon the little cafe where I had coffee two days before. So I stopped there to call the Kumomo (and have another ice coffee). The owner recognized me of course, having only one or two foreign visitors a year. I called to Kumomo and told her my situation. She laughed, told me to continue on and she will pick me up later. I sat down to drink my coffee. Five minutes later Kumomo Onesan drove up to the front of the cafe. She must have thought that if I was dumb enough to miss the Kumomo then she had better come and give me directions in person. She pointed out a landmark on my map and said that she would pick me up there in an hour and a half or so. She said "see you later" and bounced out the door.
The stretch of highway 21 I was walking on was a shady single lane road with little traffic. Very pleasant. I had been walking about an hour and a half. By my map I should be approaching the landmark pretty soon but still no sign of Kumomo Onesan. I was wondering if perhaps I had somehow gotten on the wrong road or something. The frequent henro stickers on lamp posts assured me I was on track, but still...
After another 15 minutes of walking I heard a car come up behind me. The window rolled down as it came up along side. It was Onesan. She smiled, said "hi" and continued to drive up around a corner. I thought maybe she was going to turn around to pick me up. But as I rounded the corner there she was parked in front of the landmark. She had nailed my walking speed and distance to within 100 meters. Super genki! We laughed and joked all the way back about me missing the Kumomo and her skill at guessing the walking speed of henro. I gave her a chocolate bar that I had bought earlier in the day. It was the least I could do for her generosity.
Dinner was another great meal. There were three other henro and a sports fisherman staying there also. The fisherman wasn't too familiar with the pilgrimage (although it's famous in Japan) and when we explained it to him he thought we were "erai" (extraordinary). I aslo suspect he thought we were a little "henna" (weird) as well. Anyway, he said he just came here for the fishing.
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| Excellent meal at Kumomo |
It was cold and raining with a strong wind. My feet became wet almost immediately after I started. After about two hours of walking in torrential rain, I noticed a sensation on my right little toe. I paid it no mind... big mistake. By the time I reached EnkoJi (T39) my right pinky toe was about the size of a grape. It looked like it was wearing a football helmet. As the blister covered all but the nail. It hurt and I could feel my pulse throbbing through it.
I found a semi-private place to dry my feet and retape them. At this time I also noticed blisters forming on my right heel, on the outside of the pad under my right big toe and on my left heel. I began to suspect the shoes I had bought. They seemed to carry more water and flex less than my old New Balances that performed wonderfully during the rains in my first week. The extra water sloshing around in my shoes contributed to the tape slipping from my feet and thereby causing greater friction. Regardless, I still had 10km more to walk before I could find lodgings in Sukumo.
Walking was painful, but I got used to it. Fortunately the rain had stopped by the time I reached Sukumo. The town itself was somewhat bust. Many shops and hotels were closed. In fact many of the towns I encountered from here on out appeared to have suffered greatly when the Japanese bubble burst in the 90's. I finally found a hotel on the far edge of town.
The Hotel Avan was a great place. The rooms were neat and clean with private baths. The front desk loaned me a laptop that I could use to connect to the internet in my room. There was even instant coffee in the room. All this for only 4900 yen ($49). Sweet! I stripped off my wet clothes and took a long hot bath. I fell asleep without eating dinner.
Thought for the day
© Copyright 2006 James Knighten