Well, I’m finally off to Goa – a trip so long in the planning that I find myself vaguely surprised that it’s finally rolled around at all…
I’m aiming for a bit of a change in pace for this trip, rather than going in for my usual round of jampacked schedules and epic route marches from dawn till dark in my frenzied efforts to see best part of half a country in the space of just a couple of weeks. This trip, by contrast, will hopefully be that bit more balanced between “being” and “doing”, with a fair degree of downtime built in alongside my usual explorations…
The trip will be roughly broken down into three parts: a first few days in a yoga and meditation retreat in South Goa, followed by a few days beach time (with a few day trips factored in too), then finally a bit of time spent in Portuguese-influenced Old Goa to see the sights – and of course eating and drinking (mainly my beloved chai masala – the real thing!) my way around the place in the process too…
While I’m definitely looking forward to it, I can’t say I’m not a little daunted by taking on India a second time – first time being nearly twenty years ago, when I visited the North (Delhi, Agra, Jaipur, Fatehpur Sikri and Varanasi). Crikey, don’t I just look young there…
I am definitely hoping that one of the benefits of travel at 43 rather than 23 are that the sexual harassment encountered last time round will have slackened off a bit, but that may well be wishful thinking here. After all, if you’re the type to follow someone down the street furiously masturbating, you’re probably not going to be put off by a few crows’ feet… They do say Goa is a bit more chill all round though, so hopefully it will be as drama-free in that respect as possible!
As for now, I’m posting this from Heathrow Terminal 5 (ridiculously early, as per usual…) before setting off later this evening. Anyhoo, I’ll say ‘namaste’ for now and post again in a few days’ time from the other end… Till then!
Well, it’s the last entry from me for this holiday, though I’ll be picking up the blog again from Goa in another few weeks’ time as well.
Despite the hassle, haggling and the heat (oh, and not forgetting the shits), I had a good time in Morocco overall – high points being the lovely Essaouria, my time getting jiggy in the hammam, and of course all the delicious food on offer here, which I of course made sure to indulge in fully in the time I’ve been here. In fact, I’ve probably had more sugar this week from the ubiquitous sweet mint tea alone than I have otherwise consumed over the whole last couple of years. Oh well, when in Rome and all that…
As for the whole group thing, it’s been swings and roundabouts – as is the case with solo travel too, it should be said. For every frustrating wait for a morning latecomer or having to spend best part of twenty minutes settling a bill, there is also the opportunity to raise a glass or break bread with a bunch of fun and varied people you would otherwise never have met. For every unwelcome pitstop or part of the itinerary that you’d not personally have chosen to undertake, there is also the chance to share the items that are on your list in the company of other likeminded travelers. And for every knobhead Lyle in the mix, there is (hopefully!) also a brilliant Bryan, Carmen, Joss and Ricky too – plus all the other people in the group who have collectively made this trip for me. And even Lyle turned out to be great blog fodder in the end too, so all is forgiven at this point really…
Final thoughts on the subject of Lyle: I’d usually say it’s a case of ‘see ya, wouldn’t want to be ya’ – though in truth there is a definite part of me that is inwardly envious of that sheer level of inner swag. How wonderful it must be in some ways to breeze blithely through life without any sense of humility or self-awareness whatsoever, in the sure and certain belief (however deluded that may be…) that you are the absolute dog’s bollocks – as opposed to (as I certainly do) living in a constant state of crippling self-consciousness and doubt. After all, does it really matter if everyone else thinks you’re an absolute raging bellend, if you yourself remain blindly oblivious to the fact…?
Overall though, the trip was definitely worth the punt. Would I do the whole group travel thing again…? Yes, though with possibly a bit more research into the organisation in question, rather than booking on a whim, crossing my fingers and hoping for the best.
Anyhoo, that’s it from me for now. Inshallah for a not too horrendous experience at the airport later on today (a complete and utter clusterfuck, by all accounts….) and goodbye / au revoir / bsslama for now!
Well, in the event the group did end up sharing a really lovely last night dinner and drinks together at the Kabana rooftop bar in the Medina (one of the few places that serves alcohol), though I sensibly left early, before Lyle could make good on his threat to unleash his inner party animal in full force upon the group! In short, a very good time was had by all, which was no surprise really given how well the overall group dynamics had played out over the course of the trip thus far. Even Lyle had inadvertently done his bit in adding an unintentional level of cringe comedy to the whole group affair, I suppose – albeit as the constant unwitting butt of the joke and as yet still presumably in an enduring state of blissful ignorance as to the fact!
Anyhoo, back to the trip post group segment. As of earlier this afternoon, I’m officially treating myself to an overnight stay at the luxurious Palais Sebban, a centuries-old, truly labyrinthine, traditional Moroccan riad, which still has much of its original, highly ornate mosaics, wood carvings, stained glass, and ceiling / door paintings intact. In short, one of the more unique places I’ve stayed in my life, and one which very much represents an oasis of calm amidst the hustle bustle of frenzied Marrakesh.
Fortunately for me, the Sebban also comes complete with a stylish in-house bar (yes, an actual alcofrolic one), a bijoux little restaurant, and own hammam and spa to boot. In short, no need for me to have to leave the place again until it’s time to leave for the airport tomorrow – which is very much welcome, given that I’m pretty much officially Marrakesh’d out at this point. (Oh, and on the subject of airports, I’ve since heard from other group members that departures is absolute sheer and utter fucking carnage, so something to look forward to tomorrow there then… 😦 ).
Speaking of the spa, I am pleased to report @Tara and Stuart that I have at least partially fulfilled your brief of incorporating at least one element of sex, drugs and rock n roll into this trip – of sorts at any rate!* Turns out the Moroccan hammam and spa experience is, let’s say, a particularly “intimate” one, with a woman (sometimes two) literally oiling, rubbing, kneading, washing, brushing, pressing, pushing and pummeling you virtually all over and to within an inch of your very life – and all while you are completely stark bollock naked for the most part too. There was only maybe one sole 5cm² pocket of skin that was not “actively” worked upon over the course of my two hour spa session, and even then there was a lot of, ummm, digital near misses in that area, shall we say. Not that I’m complaining, mind you – though quite frankly I’m not sure at this point if I should be buying this lady flowers and taking her to dinner. I mean, was that a mere massage, or do I find myself having unwittingly entered into my first same-sex relationship here…? 😉
Anyway, that’s it for the moment – as for now, I think I might just see if I can’t book myself in for a second date before I go… 😀
* Thought: Does Lyle’s cringeworthy minibus karaoke fulfill the rock n roll criteria too…? And Immodium the drugs part…? As if so, full house right here baby!
Well, I’m now back in town after our visit to Essaouira, a coastal fishing town featuring far more vowels in the name than is strictly good for it. Aside from that though, Essaouira was absolutely lovely – and mercifully much, much cooler than baking Marrakesh, as well as being far more chilled out and relaxed to boot. As you can see from the pics below, it definitely has a feel of a Spanish or Greek port town about it – in short, highly recommended.
Day 1 was spent just exploring the old town, until a case of the old intestinal “Marrakesh Express” brought me temporarily low later that evening, meaning I had to bow out of drinks and dinner this time round. Did Lyle drop a note in response to my message on the WhatsApp group, or ask me the next morning how I was doing…? Did he fuck. I wouldn’t mind, other than it’s his actual job and all, and without exception everybody else (who were, by contrast, not being paid to be nice) thought to do so… Lyle did at least have the good grace to look embarrassed when I pointedly remarked “I’m fine Lyle, thanks for asking” – a rare puncture wound in his seemingly otherwise permanent state of sheer and utter self-absorption here…
Fortunately by the morning I was feeling more or less all better again and able to re-join the group at a morning cooking class, where we made an absolutely delicious fish tagine – just my kind of food: healthy, vibrant, fresh and flavourful. In short, a really good day!
As for now I’m back in Marrakesh (after yet more excruciatingly cringe Lyle minibus karaoke antics en route), just writing this up before heading out for the final evening with group. Apparently Lyle also had to give last night a miss due to being knackered, so now that he is officially rested – is currently threatening to bring “two nights of Lyle for the price of one” tonight. Dear Lord, spare me please!
Well, a couple of days on and “Lyle” has now been officially downgraded from initial status of ‘complete and utter fuckwit’ to more of an ‘all-round general tosspot’. I was really taken aback to find out the guy had never actually been to Morocco before, and (wholly unsurprisingly at this point) displayed a jarring lack of planning, forethought, or any kind of apparent effort to attain any prior local knowledge whatsoever beforehand, such as bothering to learn even the barest of bones in French or Arabic before coming out. I even had to fill him in on the whole Carrefour / alcohol situation myself – much to the group’s collective gratitude and delight, it has to be said though! The words “blind leading the blind” clearly apply here, sauf que je voix évidemment mieux que lui.
Still, he managed to acquit himself acceptably over the course of the day, I suppose – he’s just, charitably speaking, not my personal cup of tea, shall we say. He clearly subscribes to the current TOWIE idyll of masculinity (i.e. bulging pecks, groomed to within an inch of his life, no stranger to the sunbed, a dazzling set of “Turkish teeth”, not much going on between the ears, etc.); is prone to flagrant preening, peacocking and man spreading; and displays a very much “in-your-face” penchant for sporting overly revealing shorts. In short, a guy much more suited to the role of Ibiza holiday rep than cultural coordinator (as evidenced by his quite literally painful attempts at minibus karaoke on the way to Agafay*), and with that kind of overly confident, self-aggrandising, cock-of-the-walk personality type, quite frankly I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he pops up on Love Island or some such one of these days soon either…
You could have someone’s eye out here….
As for the rest of the group, they’ve been pretty cool so far – everyone getting on well and no complaints, so all good on that front!
As of now, we’re just getting ourselves up after an overnight stay at the Emeraude Luxury Camp in the Agafay desert – a place that was decidedly less luxury than the website suggests (e.g. shitty wifi, very mediocre service, no hot water, etc.), but did have lovely glamping style tents and a beautiful desert swimming pool, which was just what the doctor ordered by the time we rocked up at about 4pm yesterday. I’d only actually managed to sleep two hours the night before (mainly due to being hyped up to start the trip, the hotel being really noisy, and my overactive brain feverishly plotting vengeance on Lyle in the form of a visceral yet icily professional complaint letter to the tour provider^), so chose to chill by the pool for a bit here, while others in the group went camel riding (been there down that on previous trips) or quad biking (probably fun, but I was just too knackered, sweaty and heat exhausted by this point to bother (it’s been 38° today, and the minibus getting here had literally zero aircon to boot…).
A cold dip, a beer and some good food (a truly delicious beef tagine) soon had me to rights again though, meaning I could go on to spend an evening round the campfire with the group, before finally hitting the hay for a much-needed night’s sleep.
And that’s it till next time…
* Video evidence available for anyone who would like to privately die a little bit inside.
^ In the cold light of day, I figured venting my spleen about him on here would suffice.
So, a very quick one from me today, before embarking on this morning’s final walking tour of Marrakesh (admittedly retracing my steps in part), before setting off into the desert of Agafay this afternoon…
In short, I have officially met up with the most of the group as of this evening, though “unofficially” a bunch of us found each other (and also managed to locate one of the few Ville Nouvelle drinking establishments for a pre-dinner tipple), before assembling at the meet-up “proper” site – a restaurant in the Medina for a delicious tagine meal later on that evening.
The group as it stands consists of mainly Brits, one Italian, one Indian, one Yank and a couple of latecomers as yet undetermined and, yes, as suspected, I am probably the oldest by a good decade or so. I’m not sure whether it was my great age, or the fact that I am so far the only French speaker of the group, or simply my innate instinct to bring order to chaos in each and every situation, but – in the absence of any group guide (a highly conspicuous no-show till the very last minute, more on which below…) – I currently find myself in definite in danger of unwittingly falling into the de facto mother hen role here.
That, or in-house drug dealer, given that fair to say pretty much everyone else in the group did not seem to get the memo on the alcohol (or rather lack thereof) front. Given I’m now in a very real position to supply that demand over the next few days, there is at present every possibility that I may end up divvying up and distributing my two bottles of wine and small bottle of duty-free rum at a tidy profit, in the process elevating myself to the temporary status of North African equivalent of Pablo Escobar here…
Still, the group so far (there a couple more still to join) has definitely proven a cool bunch, with ones to watch from the ten so far being:
1. Carmen^ – A very cool former travel coordinator turned HNW PA, who (like me) finds herself unexpectedly single and in despair at the sordid world that is online dating.
2. Joss – A very switched-on digital marketer with a shared penchant for early bedtimes.
3. Bryan – The one American of the group, so naturally friendly, exuberant and like me also into the whole health and fitness.
4. Ricky – Black Country lad who also aims at 10,000 steps a day (with me, him and Bryan being the big walkers of the group as a result).
As for the guide, who we’ll call, “Lyle”, the groupwide current consensus is that he is, in short, something of a bellend. Quite unbelievably, this numpty turned up several hours too late to his own tour – not because of any flight delays or anything – just because he chose for whatever reason to book a flight that would get him in hours behind the rest of us, the actual paying customers. To make matters worse, to this point he also hadn’t shared any actual information beforehand on things like timings etc. for the next day (we eventually got these through coming up to midnight, so talk about last minute dot com). Putting it politely, as a result the whole group was raising a massive collective eyebrow at the serious lack of professionalism here.
An impression which was confirmed ten times over when the cocky bastard just strode nonchalantly in just as we were all leaving, just giving it the big “I am” and practically slapping his dick on the table on arrival – no context, explanation, apology or any kind of humility at all. Well, all I can say is that I expected a knobber or two in the mix, but certainly didn’t expect it to be the lead… Either way, fair to say that insouciant approach went down like a cup of cold sick with the group – not a great look if you’re guide is already a laughing stock before he even turns up, and is actually deemed even more so of one after the fact…
The group has agreed to give the guy the benefit of the doubt for now, and there is the chance he may yet redeem himself over the next few days. I for one, however, inwardly subscribe to the school of “no mercy, no forgiveness” once crossed, and have been known to hold persistent decades-long grudges for less. So in short, watch out for now motherfucker – I’m officially on to you, bitch.
^ Names changed to protect the innocent and the not-so-innocent.
Well, a couple of days in and here are my early observations on Morocco so far:
1. Thank Christ for my schoolgirl (albeit to GCSE A* and one of the highest A Level grades in the country standard – just sayin’) French. C’est absolument nécessaire ici, and particularly so when negotiating prices with the, let’s say, “over-optimistic” taxi drivers, when it comes to number of Dirham payable per mile.
2. It certainly ain’t easy to get a drink! I knew that to a degree coming in of course, but had understood that all the local Carrefours (a very welcome legacy of French colonialism*) here did sell alcohol at the very least. Not so, as it turns out – as I found out to my cost this morning after walking a mile to the nearest one, only to learn from the staff there (again thanks to long latent French-speaking abilities) that this only actually applies to a select few larger Carrefours after all – cue a not insubstantial taxi journey out of my way to finally successfully stock up on wine at the super-modern Menara Mall. I realise that the level of time and effort I was willing to put in on this front probably says far more about me than it does the Moroccans, but fuck it! I’m on holiday and a sundowner or two is practically obligatory, at least for us debauched, decadent Westerners at any rate…
3. It turns out that the Moroccans are also cat people! There are a lot of street cats here, particularly in the Medina area, which local people collectively feed and look after, so much kudos there. In fact, speaking of felines, I had a truly horrendous dream last night that I had given away my own much beloved cat (the aptly named Princess Kim Chi, the Official Goddess of Sapphire-eyed Floofiness), due to her somewhat “demanding” nature at times, and then later regretted it horribly. I woke up in a massive panic, only after long sleep-addled contemplation finally coming to the conclusion that this wasn’t actually the case, then fell back asleep only to repeat the very same traumatic dream all over again…
This is what you get for leaving me, bitch…
Anyhoo, moving on…. Over the course of the last two days, I’ve been mainly exploring the historic Medina area, including morning visits to the Bahia Palace, Koutoubia Mosque and the Ben Youssef Medersa. As you’d expect from this North African neck of the woods, there were a lot of traditional mosaics and ornate wood carvings involved here – pretty snazzy, I think you’ll all agree.
From there it was onto the souks, which were mercifully far less hassly than I’d been previously led to believe. As all of you know by now, I loves me a market at the best of times, and the below constitutes just the teensiest tiny fraction of all photos taken here as a result…
By far the most interesting thing about the souks, however, was the myriad of miniature one-man hole-in-the-wall type businesses, which included: old-school blacksmiths, iron-mongers, tailors, booksellers, leather workers, haberdashers, shoemakers, carpenters, butchers (each with some decidedly unhygienic looking wares on offer…) and probably many more I just didn’t manage to get to. How these people ever make any kind of living in this age of mass production I really don’t know, but it was really quite incredible to see close-up – almost like taking a step back in time a century or two. I didn’t take any pictures of my own (just felt too intrusive to do so), but here are some I’ve unashamedly stolen off t’interweb, which will hopefully give you some sense of the place instead…
And that’s it for the minute, bar a few final random pics I took along the way…
As for now, I’m just taking a chance to catch my breath before joining up with the group later this evening and officially embark on this next segment of my trip. Sorry Tara and Stuart once again for the distinct lack of sex, drugs and rock n roll so far here, but – given it took me best part of a morning just to source a semi-decent looking merlot here – I think you may well need to lower your expectations on this front…. 😉
Until next time then, à bientôt!
* Technically Morocco was “just” a French protectorate rather than full-blown colony, but close enough.
Well, back by popular demand (meaning basically Tara and Stuart…), I’m officially resurrecting my travel blog from Japan fame – though this time with a name change in the mix and from my current location of Morocco, where I’ll be bouncing about from Marrakesh to Arafay to Essaouria and back over the course of the next week.
I’ll be doing a couple of days solo either side of a 5 day small group trip. Not my normal style by any means, given that I generally prefer to fly solo for the most part, but in the case of Morocco (with all the hassle of various forms travel here inevitably entails…), I felt that safety in numbers probably couldn’t hurt on this occasion. And it’s only 5 days after all, so if it turns out not to be my thing, or there are some raging cockwombles in the group, I can hopefully still grin and bear it for that short amount of time…
After all, it couldn’t possibly turn out like my one unforgettable (in every which way!) 8 week group trip from Kenya down to Cape Town aboard the infamous Big Brother truck back in the day, which notoriously involved: a situationship with the group leader*; a glovebox stashed with Class A drugs^; and a truly horrendous thermonuclear meltdown in inter-group dynamics about 5 weeks in… Right…? Oh well, if it does all go horribly tits up, you will all be the beneficiaries, dear reader, as I promise to vent my spleen no hold barred accordingly on here… 😉
Ahhh happy days……till shit got real.
* I say “situationship”. I actually went on to officially meet the parents in Pretoria after the trip, and they frikkin’ loved me. One of those sliding door moments in life, had I stuck around… ^ To be clear, I only found this out after the fact, and was – and remain – genuinely horrified.
As for now, I landed late yesterday evening at the brand-spanking new (but for all that not particularly efficient) Menara Airport, so all I have seen of the country so far is the night-time drive from airport to hotel. First impressions of Morocco based on this very small glimpse? More “modern” looking than I was expecting (though the airport strip is always like that, I suppose, whichever the country…); an abundance of interesting-looking little cafés (but filled almost exclusively with men); and a hotel that was unexpectedly dry despite overtly advertising itself as one of of the few places in Morocco with an alcohol licence, which was the only reason I chose it in the first place (grrr…). Fortunately, I’d erred on the side of caution and stocked up at duty-free, so could toast to my arrival with a much-needed glass of wine after a long trip still!!
Only other downside so far is persistent mummy guilts as a result of leaving this widdy widdy woo widdle gorgeous face, but hopefully she won’t be too furious with me when I get back (and yes, there are times when I do seriously wonder whether I might be in an emotionally abusive relationship with this cat… She’s worth it though, the narcissistic little diva that she is… Bless.)
Yes, I’m well aware sanity has long since left the building on this front…
Anyway, that’s it for now – stand by for another update in a couple of days!
Well, I’m officially waiting to board a bullet train back from Hiroshima to Tokyo Haneda airport as I type here, so I guess the trip is now officially drawing to an end at this point. It’s been everything I hoped for and more (bar cheap – ouch!) and I’ve had an absolute blast as I’ve travelled across Tokyo, Kyoto, Koyasan, Nara and Hiroshima over the last 3 weeks. I originally thought this would be absolutely loads of time to see and do everything, but in fact I still feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface of this in equal parts beautiful, fascinating and quite frankly often completely and utterly bonkers country… Either way, I will need to come back at some point soon again – if only for the ramen alone!
In the meantime, it has come to my attention in recent days that there are some of you out there who haven’t been following this blog as avidly as you should have been doing over the course of the last month, or had not – in fact – clocked until now that there was even a blog to follow. If you are one of these people, truly epic fail on your part… 😉
I’d definitely recommend reading from the beginning, as this blog genuinely constitutes a true work of creative genius (my Mum said so and everything…). But failing that (and presuming busy lives, pushed for time, CBA, etc…), here’s a handy rundown of my personal Japan top 20 – it’s been such a truly great trip, I genuinely couldn’t get it down any lower that that!! And for those of you who have been diligently reading and commenting from the outset, thanks a million – and please do feel free to share in the below retrospective across an epic last 3 weeks…
So, in no particular order – here is the highly abridged, drastically abbreviated, and completely non-exhaustive version of my Japan top 20…
1. Cat Café
One of my early highlights of Japan was hitting up the Cat Café Mocha Lounge in Shinjuku, where a much needed matcha tea and a bit of cat love from the various residents lifted my flagging spirits on day 1 in Tokyo on an initial rainy and sleep-deprived afternoon.
2. Toilets
This would not be a complete top 20 of Japan without toilets featuring on here in some way shape or form. Toilets in Japan are both futuristic (love lovelove that hot seat function) and omni-present – a relief for us poor tiny-bladdered types at the best of times, not to mention a quite literal god-send when the infamous ‘Osaka incident’ struck….
This being said, there’s also a clear obsession here with using them correctly, whether Western bowl shape or Eastern hole-in-the-ground (I’ve used both – it’s really not that hard…). Just don’t forget the toi-re slippers!
3. Capsule hotel
My trip to Japan was actually first inspired by watching John Leslie (long before later fall from grace) visit a Tokyo capsule hotel on a Blue Peter special. Suffice to say, my tiny little mind was blown – and it just had to be done while I was here.
I’d feared it would be like sleeping in a coffin or MRI scanner, with lots of noise from adjacent neighbours, etc. – but actually at 10+ hours, I had one of the best night’s sleep of my trip here. I know this latter point for a fact, as my sleep quality in the pod was (really rather obtrusively, when you think about it…) tracked and monitored throughout the night here, and I even got a little sleep report to this effect after the fact too:
You can read more about my stay in said capsule hotel here.
4. The Japanese transport network
Putting it bluntly, the Tokyo transport system makes the London Underground look like it’s built for absolute squealing wussies. Think endless flowing hordes of determined commuters, about a thousand and one different transportation lines, a veritable maze of multi-floor entrances and exits, various jaunty musical interludes and repeat announcements ringing out from the tannoys in that very typically Japanese high-pitched teenage-girl type staccato, all to the power of about a million.
Here’s a map of Tokyo’s transport network for sense of scale:
I feel vaguely sick even looking at it.
That said, there is all the fun of traveling via bullet train / shinkansen! Is it me, or does it look a bit like a duck billed platypus here…? I think so at any rate.
5. Sakura Sakura
(I like to sing this in my head Wycliffe style…) Sakura means cherry blossom in Japanese, and the season is a major deal here, with countless young girls and couples taking the opportunity to get their kimono / traditional togs on and have their photographs professionally taken against various scenic backdrops.
As it happened, the season came early this year, and I was really incredibly lucky to catch it at all – albeit by the skin of my teeth, and with some mad dashes around both Tokyo and Kyoto’s various hanami (viewing spots) in the process. Still, ‘my sakura is not sufficiently in bloom!’ is truly the ultimate in first world problems (I can hear the tiny violins playing as I type…) and I do genuinely count myself as extremely fortunate to have been in a position to even travel here and see them at all.
You can read more about my various sakura chases round Tokyo and Kyoto here and here.
6. Kyoto
It really is impossible to adequately sum up Kyoto in a few lines here, and I’d definitely recommend having a look at my adventures in the city here, here and here.
The summary of the summary of the summary is that Kyoto (as you’d expect) was duly stunning, and more than lived up to its reputation as one of the most beautiful cities of the East. I won’t wax lyrical on this – suffice to say the place was pretty amazeballs, and I’ll otherwise let the pics (a very, very tiny fraction of the whole…) do the talking here.
7. The Tokyo Poop Museum
I’d expected ‘bonkers’ here, and the Poop Museum (PooMoo? – I seriously think that moniker could catch on) certainly did not disappoint on this front. The PooMoo turned out to be a true embodiment of psychedelic insanity, constituting a veritable assault on the senses (bar – ironically enough – smell…) from the moment you walked through the door here. If you read any of my blog posts in full at all, best make sure it’s this one!
8. Tokyo night life
One of my most fun evenings in Japan was parking myself at one of the many teeny tiny little ‘hole-in-the-wall’ bars and restaurants that collectively make up Tokyo’s Golden Gai district. With room for only about 8 people along the counter, I soon got chatting to fellow guests, and even took turns singing a bit of karaoke with them too….
Tragically, there was no Eminem on the song list (only about 30 songs worth) this time round – so had to make do with Yesterday by The Beatles. Which is likely why I look just about as pained here singing it as others must have been listening!).
9. Tokyo cityscapes
When in Tokyo, one has to seek out the famous Shibuya Crossing – that iconic cityscape scene of multiple pedestrian crossings all in play at once.
I ended up getting hopelessly lost on the way there though – Google was completely confused at the sheer multitude of floors, muddle of entrances and maze of exits at Shibuya station – and quite frankly I don’t bloody blame it! Finally though, I made it there (if more by accident than design in the end), to some great views from on high:
10. Learning about Japanese tradition
While in Kyoto, I visited the Gion-kōbu Kaburenjo Theater in Kyoto to see some geisha and maiko (apprentice geisha) up close, attend a (highly abridged) formal tea ceremony and watch the Miyako Odori theatrical / musical performance.
Of the performance itself, I suppose all I can say on this front is that geisha performance represents something of an acquired taste…? But hey, at least I’ve done something vaguely cultural / artistic while I’m here (unless you count the Poo Museum, which quite frankly I absolutely do, by the way…).
If anyone tells you I dressed up as geisha in the process, they’re lying. However, you can read more about my various experiences learning about ancient Japanese traditions here.
11. Akihabara
Akihabara is Tokyo’s famous manga, anime, gaming and electronics area – as well as purported red light district of the city. None of the above are in any way really my bag, but several million Japanese, not to mention legions of devoted fans worldwide, can’t all be wrong – and the place (chockful of various arcades, pachinko, manga stores, adult shops and somewhat dubitable ‘maid cafés’) was certainly popular at any rate!!
You can read more about my madcap experiences in Akihabara here.
12. Harajuku
I ummed and ahhed as to whether or not to put Harajuku on the list here, but I don’t think you can come to Tokyo and not at least mention the place. I’d always understood Harajuku to be a kind of underground, counter culture type neighbourhood, with a something of an edgy / alternative vibe. What I instead found was a true orgasm of rainbows, kawaii and cotton candy (with barely any Harajuku girls in sight either…). Honestly, it was like a unicorn had projectile vomited pink and glitter all down the street… I have to say, I can’t really see where Gwen Stefani was coming from on this one, but one thing’s for sure: my 4-year old niece would absolutely bloody love the place!
You can read my full entry on Harajuku and other Tokyo neighbourhoods here.
13. Getting spiritual in Koyasan
A definite highlight for me was staying in a shukubo in spiritual Koyasan, a secluded mountain town of 117 monasteries and birthplace of Shingon Buddhism. A shukobo basically constitutes simple temple lodgings, where you have the option to eat the same vegetarian meals (known as shojin-ryori) as the resident monks here, and also to join in on meditation / morning prayers etc. with them as well. I’ve no pics from the latter obviously, given this was a site of active worship, but here are some examples I found on t’interweb to give you a bit of a sense of it all. Really something special to observe quite this up close and personal, it has to be said.
A definite highlight for me (albeit somewhat of a highly idiosyncratic one) was staying in a traditional Japanese ryokan in Kyoto, which is a traditional Japanese inn (think tatami mat / sliding door / futon bed style, plus communal bathrooms). In my case, this felt very much like going to stay with your (theoretical) little old eccentric Japanese grandparents, who are very much looking forward to your visit, but at the same time seem vaguely surprised by the fact you’ve actually turned up at all and aren’t exactly sure what to do with you now you’re here… Just don’t get me started on the raging slipper obsession at play here!
You can read more about my stay at Kyoto’s most endearingly bonkers ryokan going here…
15. Hiroshima
Of course, there was also visiting the haunting Peace Memorial Park and harrowing Peace Museum in rainy Hiroshima (which you can read more about in detail here).
Without wanting to be flippant here, is it me, or does the place also kinda put you in mind of Milton Keynes…? I’m not suggesting for a second that Milton Keynes resembles a bombsite (perish the thought…), but there are some definite parallels here in terms of the liberal use of concrete, incorporation of wide open space and overall new town / urban planning feel, not to mention all the underpasses (albeit less so the roundabouts) too…
16. Markets (Tsujiki and Nishiki)
Anyone who knows me knows that I absolutely bloody love me a food market at the best of times – but Japanese food markets on top of that…?!? My cup well and truly runneth over.
As such, the below represents only a teeny tiny fraction of the several hundred pics I took in the process of visitation (when I said I liked markets, I seriously meant it…).
Fellow market aficionados can read my accounts of market visits here and here.
17. Ramen
I bloody love ramen – usually purchased at various little hole-in-the wall type places, similar to as pictured below. It’s quick, affordable (as far as Japan goes!) and is one of my all-time favourite meals at the best of times, so has been a default ‘go to’ most evenings for me. The ones I’ve had to date have varied from the mediocre to the sublime, with some so bloody good they almost count as near transcendental – truly like achieving noodly inspired nirvana at times. Eat your heart out Wagamama.
You can read more about my culinary adventures in Japan here (incidentally by far my most popular post of all time from the blog, by the way – people just love food…).
18. Food! (Other than ramen…)
While most of the trip I’ve been living off ramen, I’ve also gone off piste and pushed the boat out too, on the odd occasion. This includes a kaiseki (multi-course) dinner in Kyoto:
Various sushi and seafood market dinners:
One time having Japanese tapas in a sake bar:
Various ebiken (train lunch boxes – which come lovingly gift wrapped for that extra special sense of locomotive occasion):
And of course, much much more! As above, fellow foodies can read more about my culinary adventures in Japan here.
19. Matcha tea
Drinks-wise, the overarching theme of trip has not been sake or asahi (I’ve actually been incredibly sparing all trip), but matcha tea – my new potable equivalent of crack cocaine.
I’ve had the ‘real deal’ in matcha a couple of times at traditional tea houses or even at a (much abbreviated) tea ceremony, but the one I’m really obsessed with is from Doutor, which is basically the Japanese equivalent to Costa or Starbucks – i.e. the completely bastardised version! No one day in Japan has yet passed without a Doutor visit – often two, once even three. Clearly I’m going to have to find myself a good connect once back in the UK – that or found the first official Matcha Anonymous here…
20. The Weird and the Wonderful
And of course there’s all the weird and wonderful shizz that simply makes Japan Japan.
There are bonkers statues and monuments, often seemingly plonked down in the middle of anonymous suburbia somewhere:
Plus, there’s the plastic models of food outside practically every restaurant here (which invariably looks disgusting, btw):
There’s a souvenir market that quite frankly consists of kawaii on steroids:
There is the insanely wonderful (or wonderfully insane?) Gotokuji cat temple, which for reasons unknown features multiple cat statues at the gates of an otherwise non-descript cemetery in a totally random residential district of Tokyo (side note: please please please please bury me here).
There is a street in Kyoto dedicated to monsters in paper-maché form:
There are also these horrific effed-up bibbed dudes from Okunoin Cemetery in Koyasan, Japan’s largest graveyard (and, yes, I’m officially freaked out too on this one).
And let’s not forget the joys of manga photo booths! I’m not on drugs here by the way – the photo machine just manga’d up my eyes. At least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Plus there’s all the other random stuff that I encountered over my 3 week stay, from smoking pods, to vending machines everywhere you look, to alarmist public information posters on the Tokyo underground, to Totoru (yeah, I didn’t know who he was either…) and just everything else… And, yes, your guess is as good as mine on some of these too!
21. This blog
And a bonus one here is this blog. It’s been truly great to get in touch with my long dormant travel writing side once again – and to get your comments and feedback about how much you enjoyed reading. I read and appreciated every one!
Anyway, that’s officially it for now – sayonara and arigatō till the next time!
Well, I finally made to Hiroshima – better late than never, I suppose. By which I mean all of eight minutes late, thanks to a short mystery delay on the shinkansen. I know, I was a little bit put out here myself – to the point I even took a photo as evidence (five minutes in) that even the stereotypically punctual and punctilious Japanese are not always quite as on the dot as they’d ideally like to be. Though in fairness, they did spend the rest of the journey putting out various self-flagellating announcements to this effect, apologising both profusely and repeatedly (at intervals of every 15 minutes) for any inconvenience caused.
Hiroshima (pronounced here as Hir-oh–shee-ma rather than the UK Hir-ohsh-ima) is of course primarily known for one thing – which is being blasted to hell on 6th August 1945 by the world’s first “officially” detonated nuclear bomb. As I’m sure you’re all well aware, it was on this date that the bomb Little Boy – as dropped by pilots of the Enola Gay B-29 bomber – effectively razed the city of Hiroshima to the ground in an instant, killing up to around 200,000 people (mainly civilians) in the process, both in the immediate blast and through the effects of radiation sickness in the short- and longer-term aftermath.
I spent my first afternoon mainly walking round the Peace Memorial Park, which (as the name implies) features a number of monuments and memorials to the victims of the bombing – including the Peace Museum itself and also that now iconic bombed-out building most people associate with the city (officially known as the A-Bomb Dome).
I sensibly decided to tackle the Peace Museum itself the next day, figuring that I’d need a fair chunk of mental energy in reserve for this one – which turned out to be a very good call. As a bit of a 20th century history buff, with something of a – shall we say – ‘specialist interest’ in nuclear warfare / annihilation (they are in effect synonymous) at the best of times (‘Threads’ anyone…?!?), I already knew quite a bit about the Hiroshima bombing at an intellectual level, but fair to say the museum here certainly hammered it home at an emotional one. I mean, fuck me, there really are no words at times…
Arrgghhh. The best you can say for it all really is that The Bomb has kept the peace (just about…) for 78 years now – but at what cost…? And – more pertinently – for how much longer…? All I can say is that if the bomb drops in my near vicinity, I’m stripping naked and running towards it as bloody fast as I can. Failing that, my stock of iodine tablets and tinned goods should help me survive – hmm – a good month or so more after everyone else has either died or society had broken down irrevocably. So, there’s that, I suppose…
Anyway, this is all getting horribly dark and depressing – so let’s switch the tone up a little bit here.
For example, is it wrong of me to say Hiroshima – in particular Memorial Square – puts me really quite strongly in mind of Milton Keynes here….? It’s all that concrete, wide open space and new town / urban planning feel, I think, plus lots of underpasses (albeit not the excess roundabouts) too. Key difference being that Milton Keynes – unlike Hiroshima – has no excuse… (That’s a joke btw! And I’m just playing MK, you know I love you…. 😉 ).
Also, I was being a little unfair earlier in saying that Hiroshima is only known for once having had the shit nuked out of it. The Mazda factory is also based here, apparently, and the city is also known for its okonomiyaki, which are basically a type of savoury Japanese half-omelette, half-pancake dish. It’s so popular here that there is one part of town set aside as an Okonomiyaki Village, called the Okonomimura, which I visited as well today (that’s my okonomiyaki below bottom left by the way – it was pretty nice!):
And finally, I don’t want to end this entry while still on a downer, so here some vids and pics of me at a Micropig Café to help lift the mood (it was a genuine Sophie’s Choice between that and the neighbouring Puppy Café, but I’m at peace with my decision here).
And that’s it for what is likely to be my penultimate post on the blog – stand by for final one to follow shortly and goodbye for the moment…
Sarah Round The World 