Nozomi Shinkansen "flight" from Kyoto to Tokyo

There's my bullet train ride shown on the board - Nozomi 222 bound for Tokyo at 10:02 am. Being a fan of rail travel (as opposed to air and bus travel), I was psyched to experience one of the world's fastest bullet trains, the Shinkansen, and was waiting on the platform a Kyoto station for the 2.5 hour "rapid express" ride.

I hadn't really known about the distinctions between the different classes. But when buying my ticket, the counter lady gave a brief explanation, and I figured that logically the less stops, the better.

Thus I chose the Nozomi, which as you can see, makes fewer stops along the Kyoto to Tokyo route than its Hikari "express" counterpart. The time savings probably aren't all that great, perhaps half an hour, since the Shinkansen does speed through the countryside at a top rate of 300 kilometers per hour.

Regardless of the class - rapid express or express (I love how the local trains are called "semi-express"), in truth, I was just happy to be in a country with a great rail travel system like Japan,
given the paucity of good rail travel options in the USA.

In fact, one of my fondest memories of my trips in Switzerland was taking the intercity trains between the different cities, always amazed by their punctuality and efficiency. (Which probably explains why I wear a Swiss Railways watch to this day).

Other than the Amtrak Acela Express service on the Northeast corridor between Boston and Washington DC, travelling by train seems to have gone out of style at home, with no foreseeable revival given the massive costs of upgrading the infrastructure.

Even the much-touted Acela Express reaches top speeds of only 150 mph (210 km/hr), and only on certain sections of the route. Something to do with the tracks, I believe.

So, there I was eagerly waiting for "my" Nozomi train to arrive, and to while away the time, I watched other Shinkansen trains zoom past the Kyoto station platform.

You could easily tell they were coming - the train would appear in the distance - still seemingly far - but this can be quite deceiving. You only have a few precious seconds to set the perfect angle on your camera's view finder, and remember to brace yourself for the strong gust of cool air that the Shinkansen brings with it to avoid being knocked over.

In a few seconds, the show is all over and you're left to replay the video you've shot, shake your head in disappointment, and then stake out your position on the platform's edge waiting for the next one. Repeat as many times as necessary.

Here is the link to video of the Shinkansen speeding through Kyoto station (if the embedded video below doesn't appear).




Finally, the Nozomi train came and I took my designated seat inside the designated car. The Shinkansen was very comfortable and had ample legroom.

For people like me who are normally stuck in the middle seat in economy class, this was quite a relief. The smoothness of the ride struck me. In fact, you'd only notice you are traveling at such high speeds when you look out the window at the countryside and everything whizzes by in an instant.

Overall, the Shinkansen is a great way to experience the outstanding Japan rail system (those Swiss better watch out), although it comes at a steep price. My one-way trip between Kyoto and Tokyo came to around 13,520 yen or roughly US$150. (No one said traveling in style would be cheap, I rationalized). A JR pass can be used on the Hikari trains, but not the "rapid express" Nozomi.

Check out this Lonely Planet article to learn more about Japan's amazing bullet trains.

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I saw Serena William's twin at the Hakone Open Air Museum in Japan

"Holy cow, that looks just like Serena Williams", was my initial reaction when I spotted this colorful, eye-catching sculpture standing by its lonesome at the Hakone Open Air Museum, squinting into the distance. Don't laugh, instead look at the bulging muscles on that thick yet curvaceous frame, the gaudily post-modern attire, accessorized with a bright polka-dotted bag, and tell me you don't see the resemblance between this sculpture's and the best female tennis player's physiques.


For non-followers of women's professional tennis, Serena Williams is the current no. 1 player in the world, a 13-time Grand Slam tournament winner (most recently Wimbledon 2010), and a fashionista all rolled into one. She has dominated the tour for the better part of this decade, and her opponents whom she spanks regularly on the tennis court will agree that she is a tough competitor, both physically and mentally.



Obviously, this giant-sized life-like outdoor sculpture, one of about 120 such sculptures scattered all over the grounds of the Hakone Open Air Museum in Hakone, Japan (the country's first ever open air art museum), wasn't really modeled after Venus William's more accomplished little sister, but nonetheless it emerged as one of my favorites during an afternoon exploring at the open air museum, and thus the nickname stuck in my mind. (Besides, the similarity really IS striking).

Below are more images of my favorite sculptures from the Hakone Open Air Museum (click to enlarge). In the event you need a break from strolling the grounds, there's a relaxing foot bath with water coming from the area's abundant hot springs, five indoor exhibition spaces (most notably the Picasso Pavilion), and the requisite cafes and restaurants (and gift shop, of course!)






Much like on the tennis court, "Serena Williams" at the Hakone Open Air Museum emerged as the most memorable, colorful and stylish among all the protagonists, regardless if you love it or hate it.

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Wherefore Art Thou, Mt. Fuji?

Most tourists visit the Hakone area west of Tokyo in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the symmetrical cone of Japan's highest peak, Mt. Fuji. Unfortunately, there is one big problem - Mt. Fuji is an exceptionally shy volcano who prefers to stay hidden behind the clouds, much like introverted people who have to be cajoled into attending parties. Thus, Mt. Fuji sightings can be a hit-and-miss affair. (If this were Disneyland, the skies would clear and the volcano would belch on the hour).

In fact, Hakone Area Map that came with my Hakone Free Pass (which entitles the bearer to round-trip train transport between Shinjuku Station in Tokyo and Hakone-Yumoto Station, as well as boarding privileges on an assortment of transport - cable cars, gondolas, buses, sightseeing ships - in Hakone) enumerates two Mt. Fuji viewpoints: the first one is from high up on the Hakone Ropeway, and the second from the Hakone Sightseeing Cruise on Lake Ashi (as pictured below).






I had the fortune of taking the two above-mentioned modes of transport in Hakone (arigato gozaimasu, Hakone Free Pass!), and not for a single moment did Mt. Fuji even peek from behind the curtain. The visit to Hakone wasn't a total loss though, since I had absolutely zero expectations (and hope) of a sighting in the first place, and there were lots of other cool stuff to do in Hakone.

Most memorable was taking the Hakone Tozan Cablecar, a short ten minute ride up the mountains, then switching to the Hakone Ropeway for the ride overlooking the Owakudani valley, formed by volcanic explosions a very long time ago. A stop at Owakudani was made to taste the special "black eggs" (hard boiled eggs dipped in steaming hot springs). The taste wasn't so special though, since they tasted just like normal hard boiled eggs.



We were careful not to get too close to the pools of hot springs spewing dangerous volcanic gases from below the surface, plus the putrid rotten-egg smell of sulfur became a bit overwhelming. Lots of student tour groups were around to enjoy this unique attraction though.

Another ride on the Hakone Ropeway brought us to Togendai-ko, the departure point for the pirate-ship sightseeing cruise on Lake Ashi that brings us to the town on the other side, Hakonemachi.



The cruise itself was quite uneventful; one can simply appreciate the scenery as the ship slowly makes its way across the lake, or go nuts frantically looking around and squinting at the sun for a hint of the majestic volcano showing its face. I opted for the former, and also diverted myself by observing other ship passengers posing for pictures with a costumed pirate making the rounds of the deck.

The morning's sightseeing on various modes of transport came to an close, with the last leg the Hakone Tozan bus back to Gora station, where postcards of bashful Mt. Fuji are available for purchase. Sometimes these picture-perfect images are a good (and only) substitute to seeing the real thing.

P.S. I also wrote an article about the Hakone Open Air Museum.


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Kegon Falls & Lake Chuzenji, Nikko

After a morning spent on a whirlwind tour of Nikko's World Heritage sites - Toshugu Shrine, Rinnoji Temple, Futarasan Shrine - and taking my shoes off countless (well, about five) times, I was ready to experience some of the surrounding area's natural beauty.

We decided to take the bus from central Nikko all the way on winding roads up the mountains to Tobu Nikko station (about a 45 minute ride) to view the Kegon Falls and Lake Chuzenji. But upon arrival at Tobu Nikko, the first order of the day was - lunch! Numerous restaurants and shops lined the main road, so we just picked one at random (based on their "fake food" display).



Lunch took a bit longer than expected due to there being only one cook (the right-most picture above proved prescient), but pretty soon we were walking towards Kegon Falls, the most famous among Nikko's waterfalls. Kegon falls is quite lovely, with the water cascading down from a height of 97 meters, and apparently popular among lonely Japanese youth for suicide attempts. I've seen more exciting waterfalls, especially in Iceland, but it was nice nonetheless.




After a few minutes viewing the Kegon Falls, it was a short walk in the other direction to placid Lake Chuzenji, the highest natural lake in all of Japan formed with the eruption of Mt. Nantai twenty thousand years ago. It was a quiet weekday, the paddle boats were all idle, and except for a lone fisherman there was not a soul to be seen.



The fisherman stood knee-deep on the edge of the lake, his full concentration devoted to the task at hand. From time to time he would cast his fishing line, whipping it through the air in a swift motion, enticing the fish to bite. I never did see him catch any, and eventually left him to his own devices to catch the bus back to Nikko.

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Early Morning Visit to Tsukiji Fish Market

Waking up early while on vacation is something I particularly dislike. Count me in among those firmly entrenched in the camp that likes to sleep in. So, having said all that, why exactly was I waiting on the platform of the Hibiya metro line at 5am, along with countless Japanese salary men and school girls, on a Monday morning?

Well...because a bunch of us decided it would be fun to visit the fish market. What?! Like most people, I prefer to skip the sights and smells of a wet market and just want to devour sliced pieces of sushi on my dinner plate, but this wasn't just your ordinary fish market, but the famed Tsukiji fish market in central Tokyo.

The Tsukiji market, formally known as the Tokyo Metropolitan Central Wholesale Market, is the biggest wholesale fish and seafood market in the world, and pretty much handles most fish that passes through Tokyo. Crack open any Lonely Planet guidebook, and Tsukiji Market is always in the list of "Japan Essentials". Thus, it has become a popular stop among tourists and foodies who want to witness the early morning tuna auctions, which explains our presence there at such an ungodly hour.



Unfortunately, it has become TOO popular, and tourists have proved to be a nuisance and hazard to the market's fish-cutters and deliverymen going about their daily business. Thus, new security measures have been put in place. Only 140 slots per day are issued to tourists on a first-come, first-served basis, and despite our early arrival, a stern uniformed security guard informed us that we were about a couple of hours too late - all the day's slots had been accounted for.

Tsukiji Market tuna auction video

We had been hanging around just outside the auction area, peeking in at the huge slabs of tuna piled atop a wooden crate on the cold cement floor, while men in identical vests walked around inspecting them and mumbling at each other. Not exactly riveting stuff, but at least SOMETHING was happening, or about to happen. However, the security guard was politely but firmly telling us to get out of there, much to our dismay. (I managed a couple of pictures and a short grainy video though).



Dejected, we trudged back to the outer market which consists primarily of stalls that sell restaurant supplies, groceries, and dried seafood, and of course, small unpretentious restaurants offering sushi over bowls of rice. Since it was breakfast time, and we were at the one place in Tokyo where the freshest sushi is available, T. and I took the opportunity to order a kaisendon (sashimi rice bowl, pictured) at one of the restaurants.

The others, who preferred lighter fare, wound up at a French bakery (a decision that still puzzles me to this day). Definitely one of the most satisfying breakfasts I had in Japan, and at least the meal ensured that all our troubles weren't for naught.




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Konnichiwa, (fake) sushi lover

Though still groggy from my 14-hour nonstop flight from JFK to Narita airport, I managed to somehow navigate Tokyo’s subway system (no easy task, check out the image map) and found the ryokan (Japanese style inn) that I was staying in, albeit after inflicting my rudimentary Japanese on helpful locals who pointed me the right way.


Determined to eat as much as humanly possible during my vacation in Japan, I went for a stroll around the Asakusa neighborhood (where the ryokan was situated) to check out the restaurants and grab a quick meal (The in-flight meals proved inadequate in filling up the big belly).

Stumbled upon Koppabashi, which is the kitchenware district (a perfect analogy is the Bowery's lighting district) of Tokyo where all merchandise related to operating a restaurant are sold.

The item of interest that caught my eye were the "fake sushi", almost life-like pieces of fish that are used by a typical Japanese restaurant for displaying their offerings in a glass window display case outside their establishment. If I was just a little bit more famished, I would've popped the fake sushi into my mouth, plastic wrapping and all.


(Clicking on the image above brings you to the food replicas slide show).

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Gods Hidden in Plain Sight

Weary after a long day of sightseeing in Nikko, a city known for its scenic beauty and boasting of four UNESCO World Heritage Sites, I was eager to get back to the Turtle Inn for a quick nap before dinnertime. However, as the ryokan crept into view, my eagerness to cram in one last stop in my itinerary won out, and I turned around to follow the path alongside the Daiya River that led to the row of jizo bosatsu (seated jizo).


Other than the powerful roar of the water that fed a hydroelectric dam nearby, silence prevailed all around. Not much excitement in this mainly residential part of Nikko. Unused to the absence of human activity, I wondered if I had taken a wrong turn somewhere, and consulted my map once more. Convinced that I hadn't, I continued on, passing by the newer Turtle Bay Inn annex on the right, and after the fifteen minute stroll eventually reached the moss-covered stone figures.


One of the most loved among divinities, jizo statues are considered the guardian deities of children and travelers. This set is called Bakejizo (Deceiving Jizo), based on the myth that no matter how often one counts, the number of jizos always seems to change. (My efforts to keep count went haywire once I started taking photos).

The Bakejizo come in different shapes and sizes ranging from tiny to life-size, perhaps to represent the spirits of both babies and adults. Unfortunately, some statues have been totally destroyed, with only stones or red caps marking their spot.




Even from afar, the red-capped statues make for a pretty sight; my initial impression was that they were either deep in meditation, or were patiently waiting for their meal to be served, red bibs flapping and all. Though most look pretty solemn, bored or asleep, a few had traces of a smile on their faces, as if recalling a fond memory or an inside joke.




I pretty much had the jizo all to myself - the tranquility of the surroundings was calming, yet at the same time scary. I half-expected to be startled by the sound of cracking twigs, human voices, or one of the statues suddenly springing to life at any moment. None of these scenarios came to fruition though. Quite a sharp contrast to the crowds at the temples and shrines I had visited the same morning.

Later, as I consulted assorted travel literature, the Bakejizo were scarcely mentioned at all, and only appear in one map - the same one I had in my pocket, by coincidence. One suspects the jizo, with the sounds emanating from the river their sole accompaniment, prefer it that way.

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