Chillin in Kyushu, Japan

Another rough cut of an email home, about a perfect trip to Kyushu, Japan...

Well, I've made it long enough in this country to be able to drink hot tea and jog outside again. To turn on the lights in the middle of the night and not find a massive cockroach scuttling across my floor. To know the feeling of dry skin, to not fear the inevitable sweat stains on my shirts that were commonplace in the summer, and to feel refreshed and not suffocated when I exit my air-conditioned apartment. 

Fall is in the air and you can feel the collective sigh of relief across the city. It's time to chill out (quite literally as with no central heating and no insulation winter might prove to be just as much of a challenge as summer). It has all come full circle and it's comforting to know I made it halfway, sad to realize how quickly time has passed, and exciting to know what lies ahead. It's incredible how you can make yourself at home in any situation, adapt to it and even embrace it. It all becomes so normal you almost forget where you are for extended periods of time. Life's routine is a powerful drug.

I realize that I just recently emailed you to tell you about a whirlwind trip I took around Japan, but alas the excitement around here never ends and I was able to take another wonderful trip a few weeks back with my roommate. Life is tough I tell ya! (Well, when you're like me and make a job out of seeing and doing as much as you can in life, then it can get a little harried at the best of times).

I decided that since my boyfriend and I didn't have enough time during our trek to head south to the island of Kyushu, I would take some of my free days off to explore. I headed out on the overnight ferry from Osaka. With massage chairs (so high tech that I was wincing in pain as it hit every tight muscle in my tension-ridden bod), stuffed animal machines, instant noodle vending machines and a change of slippers for almost every room you entered, it had so much of what I loved about Japan.

I can't adequately describe how much I love waking up in the morning to realize I'm out in the middle of the ocean and I think I spent a good three hours just staring at it as we approached Beppu, Kyushu. That is until this man came and stood beside me and started to spit into the ocean. I think he was trying to recreate that scene in Titanic where Leonardo DiCaprio tries to woo Kate Winslet by hoarking a loogie with her. I was not impressed.

Bright Lights (and Hot Sand) in Beppu

The Lonely Planet calls Beppu the Las Vegas of Japan and I was ready for some bright lights, big city, Nevada style. What I found was a sleepy town that felt like it has just sent its last summer tourist packing on the train. Everyone appeared bleary-eyed and lethargic. The shopping arcades were deserted, the Musak in the local shopping centre was deafening with the lack of chatter to mute its force and the parks were eerily quiet. Not even the chirp of a bird cut through the thick silence.

Kyushu in general is famous for volcanoes, hot springs, and atomic bombs, not in that order. So my first order of business was to head up to a somewhat famous hot spring on the side of a mountain. The deal was you bought a 10-dollar bento box of local cuisine and you could use the hot spring that the owner had built on the side of a mountain. The setting was ideal: waterfall behind me, ocean ahead of me and a few token naked women for me to make light chit-chat with in between uncomfortable silences (I got used to the nudity by my second bath and am quite an exhibitionist now, nudist colony here I come).

The pruning effect in full force (I get so nervous in these baths that I wait until almost everyone is out so that they don't watch me as I exit and become a prune in the process), I headed to another famed Kyushu treat, the sand bath. Remember when you haphazardly spent childhood holiday moments burying your loved ones in the sand? Well in Kyushu they have taken this event to somewhat obsessive-compulsive extremes. The sand baths are housed in beautifully old and rustic (read rotting from moisture) temple-like buildings. After waiting about an hour and a half for a chance to go in, I regretted my decision about three seconds into the experience. Luckily we were able to wear a Yukata (cotton kimono) into the sand bath as the prospect of being buried naked wasn't too appealing (crevice sand is never a welcomed situation). We were ushered into a big, hot room filled with sand. The sign on the way in read "After you have been covered by the sand for 10 to 15 minutes it will get warm. It will be OK. If it gets warm." Ok. All reassured now.

In the room, there were 5 very sweaty women who instructed us to lie down in one of what looked like 6 graves. I was already starting to sweat and was sort of wondering what they considered warm here. I was buried 5th and can't adequately describe what it was like having this short older woman sweating on top of me while heaping heavy and hot sand over my body until all I could feel was pressure. I could feel the blood pulsing through every portion of my squashed body. I started to panic a little bit and reflected back on meditation sessions I'd been to in the past where the focus was on deep breaths. Well, I tried to take a deep breath and realized that the sand was so heavy on my chest that it was impossible. My thoughts started to run wild. Is this what being caught in an avalanche feels like? Tears of sweat began trickling and tickling down my ears and forehead. I was sweating in my Yukata and it was starting to feel like worms crawling about my cemented body. 

I started counting out 60 seconds in terms of the things around me in order to make the time pass. 20 fan turns, a million drops of sweat, a hundred drops from a leaky faucet somewhere in the background, and a lot of heartbeats. I was roasting, with a cruel little fan teasing me every few seconds with a wisp of air, wondering if anyone noticed that I was so god damned hot. I looked over at my fellow inmates and THEY WEREN'T SWEATING AT ALL. Despite this, they were all getting what looked like cold facecloths positioned on their faces. I thought "What am I, chopped liver??" Now I was burning inside and out. 

Finally, they noticed me as I'm sure at this point I was beet red and they brought me a cold towel. But then they didn't go away. I guess I had really gone red and the one lady called over all of her friends and they were all looking at me saying over and over again "DAIJOBU?" which means "Are you okay?". I was all "Yes, yes…I'm fine. Daijobu." which they didn't seem to believe. I was thinking just flip off. I'm gonna make it. I'm as strong as all of these older women. All of a sudden I guess some silent alarm went off and they started shouting "STAND UP, STAND UP, STAND UP"

I was the first one out of the sand. I got giggled at for the next 10 minutes.

Hit Parade Club Heaven

My roommate showed up that night and I dragged her to a local show called the HitParade Club which looked totally cheesy but totally like my thing at the same time. That night I realized that "heaven is (indeed) a place on earth" and that this elusive heaven is called the HitParade Club. As I said, in the Lonely Planet they called Beppu the Las Vegas of Japan, which I didn't quite understand given the muted energy that I experienced in the town all day. But the HitParade Club summed it all up. It was Vegas in the 50s and they hadn't changed the vinyl seat covers and hanging posters since. The deal was $30 for all-you-can-eat and drink (they brought a full bottle of wine and whisky to our table when we arrived). Then there was a show every hour with Japanese singers dressed as Elvis and Johnny B. Goode and a 50's poodle skirt gal. 

The buffet was greasy and cold but the show was beyond belief. Covers of 50's songs galore. Even though it was a Tuesday night every single person in the place got up to dance during the shows in a line dance fashion following the actions of the poodle girl. Audrey and I had found our mecca. It was awesome. We ended up staying for all of the shows and I am planning on having my eventual wedding reception there!! Ya better start saving! 

Then Straight to Hell

After sleeping on what amounted to a sack filled with hard-as-rock peas (a common element in many Japanese hotels. It's like they've taken the Princess and the Pea thing to the next level. "Yes, I can feel all 400 hundred peas. I am a Princess.") we headed to hell. The hells of Beppu that is, which is essentially a bunch of "too hot to handle" pools of water or jets of steam coming from the earth in different colours and textures. We started off the day soaking in a mud bath. It felt like what a baby must feel like in the womb, magical. We spent days scrubbing our hands raw to try and get rid of the scintillating smell of sulphur from under our fingernails. In retrospect, sitting in the warm muck for an hour and a half dragging our hands through it was probably not the smartest idea. Some of our clothes still smell like rotten eggs.

After this, we headed to the rest of the hells which consisted of different coloured natural pools of water or mud complete with cheesy add-on attractions to make each more appealing: a plethora of crocodiles piled on top of each other at one, a zoo at another, etc. They were worth the entrance fee, especially since each had a sort of foot bath (or as they would call it "hot spring of the leg") in which you could rest your weary soles. You could also buy some nifty snacks which were cooked in hell water including eggs and pudding.

Mountain View for Two

We rushed off from hell to a bus which took us to a youth hostel at Aso Mountain, an active volcano on the island of Kyushu. It was desolate and dark and thank goodness we were met once again with some Japanese hospitality. The bus station master's son drove us to the hotel at 10pm. Mt. Aso was a stunning gem and the whole area reminded me of the Scottish highlands. Sparsely populated and green as a freshly cut emerald. A breath of the air refreshed our bodies and our spirits and we hiked with reverence. Being that it was mid-week we missed the throngs of tourists and we almost had the whole place to ourselves. The active volcano portion of the mountain looked a lot like a mini replica of the Grand Canyon with lots of steam.

We were very excited to find out that the main souvenir sold in the area was bright yellow blocks of sulphur. We had been concerned that the sulphur smell from the day before would eventually wear off and we would be left smelling sulphur-free, but now realized we could virtually buy a lifetime supply and soak in it until our bodies were yellow and pruned. 

City of Onsens

The next stop was a blast to the past as we entered another world. A world where people walk around town in Yukatas and wooden sandals, bathe naked together all day and night, and visit baths by rivers, in caves and everywhere else you can imagine. The world of an onsen (hot spring) town called Kurokawa. Now if the HitParade Club was heaven on earth, this place was a very close second. We stayed at a fancy schmancy Ryokan and quickly changed into our specially designed yukatas so that everyone in town would know what Ryokan we were staying in. We grabbed our modesty cloths (essentially the size of a face towel) and we were off. 

Audrey and I weren't too keen on seeing each other in the buff knowing that we still needed to live together for the next three months, so we devised this master plan of how we would change and enter the hot springs without ever seeing each other naked outside of the water (ahh…those lovely western hang ups that we carry around as our baggage).

The idea is you buy a lovely wood tile pass which allows you to enter three onsens (plus your Ryokan onsen). There are 27 onsens in the area but four was way more than enough. I think there is a point where you just can't soak any longer!

Walking along lantern-lit streets lined with wooden Edo-period buildings, each containing an onsen with a unique feature. Puttering along in wooden sandals, passing other onsen dwellers in full yukata gear. Crossing lantern-lit bridges to cobblestone paths which, wet from the last visitors, glistened in the lamplight. Passing open fire resting spots complete with kettles hanging above, to baths sitting next to rushing rivers or in natural caves filled with water naturally heated by the earth's core. It was pretty incredible…

Nagasaki Nights

We didn't want to leave this paradise, but given that the rooms were 160 dollars EACH a night, we really had no choice. The next stop was Nagasaki, the site of the second atomic bomb. Surprisingly it had a totally different feel from Hiroshima. In Hiroshima, you felt the bomb. It wasn't like people wore t-shirts saying "never again" or had license plates like Quebec that read "I remember", but you could just feel its thickness in the air. It was why you would visit Hiroshima and it was present in everything.

In Nagasaki, you sort of forget after a few hours why you came in the first place as you become so wrapped up in the many other interesting aspects of the city. As Nagasaki was the only port open to international business for many years during Japan's isolation, many quaint western-style houses are located throughout the city. You may be asking why you would want to see foreign residences in Japan, but it is as historically interesting to see them here as it is to see these old plantation-style houses in, say, Georgia.

Most of the houses were located in a beautiful park looking over Nagasaki bay. We stumbled upon this one haunting little house that was clearly from this period which had a sign reading coffee and tea on the side. We decided to go in and check it out. We entered another time and place when we crossed the threshold. It was a well-preserved old house with lighting and furniture and music which acted as a time portal, transporting us back to a time when petticoats and parasols were trendy. The music on the gramophone was distinctly baroque and the mood was cozy yet sombre, relaxing yet proper.

We inquired at the bar about some sweet eats and were shown a menu that quoted coffee prices of about 18$. I was instantly reminded of my fiasco experience in Vienna where wanted to go cheap on dinner and ended up spending 30$ on a cup of Lipton's brand tea as we were unknowingly drinking in "the oldest coffee shop in the world." The tea was…well…tea…but I think the guy felt bad for us as we had clearly looked shocked by the price, and he ended up making us another little treat before we left, so it all worked out.

From our baroque tete-a-tete off to a concert in the park overlooking Nagasaki which consisted of a group of Japanese guitar players playing Beatles music among the setting sun and Tivoli lights atop the Nagasaki harbour. Again, the setting proved to be magical.

All in all, it was a wonderful trip. Expensive for the distance covered but expansive in terms of the culture covered. As I won't have enough money to travel for a bit it is gonna be back to my day-to-day Japanese intrigues.

Take care and keep in touch. Cozy up to the most blissful time of year in my opinion and have a piece of pumpkin pie for me!