Temple of a Thousand Buddhas

As mentioned previously, Buddhism still remains a mystery to both Jules and myself. Yet, since we have lived here, we’ve developed a healthy respect for its traditions and rituals as well as the various art forms that seek to represent it. As a cultural influence, it is so deeply embedded into the grain of Japanese life that its presence can be felt everywhere as we move around the country. Temples abound, each filled with sacred objects and diverse representations from the Buddhist faith. While many look very similar, we occasionally come across something that is quite unique. Such was the case with the Sanjusangendo Temple in Kyoto, which surprised us in terms of both its scale and visual impact.

This 12th century ‘long building’ is in itself quite monumental, but it is the interior that provides the surprise. It houses the most amazing assemblages of life-sized Buddha statues that are carefully arranged in 10 rows of 100. Covered in gold leaf, each are positioned in a standing pose and while they are said to be identical, the hand-made nature of each figure provides some nice subtle variations to their facial features. Directly in the centre of the mass of statues is a large gold Buddha and interspersed along the full length of the figures are 28 fierce looking guardian deities (supernatural beings).

As it is a sacred place, Jules and I removed our shoes to enter the wooden structure that has seen few changes over the centuries. As we rounded the corner the sight of the seemingly endless line of golden statues created quite an impact. The scale and order of the formation was impressive with each row rising up a level as it moved back. Naturally we had the camera at the ready, but were dashed at the last minute by a large threatening sign forbidding any images from being taken (not usually the case in Japan). We wondered whether this was a religious thing or the custodians simply protecting their commercial asset? Possibly the latter, as it seemed that religious propriety didn’t quite apply to the souvenir shop next door.

While we strolled the long walk passed all of the figures, we were amazed at the sculptural detail, which we learned was all completed by a most respected artist called Tankai (1173-1256), who apparently worked into his 80’s to complete the mammoth task. Quite an achievement and it is not at all surprising that this temple is now regarded as one of the National Treasure of Japan.

As we reached the southern end of the hall and prepared to undertake the long walk back, we learn that the building has yet another facet to it’s long history. In the 17th century, samurai began assembling at the Sanjusangendo Temple to practice their archery skills; this eventually led to an annual tournament called the ‘Tōshiya’. The contest continues to this day and is held in the west verandah of the temple where archers shoot arrows the full length of the 118 metre long hall. Originally these were flaming arrows, so its testament to the accuracy of the archers over the past 250 years that the wooden structure wasn’t accidentally burnt down. It was fascinating to view some of it’s history through the traditional woodcuts that hung on it’s walls, as we both marveled at how such a building could some how still exist after all these years.

With no photos allowed, this is an image of an old postcard (copyright free)

Encore at the Takatsuki Jazz Festival

One of the things I really like about living in Japan is their love of jazz. In shops, restaurants and cafes you can hear it being played and there are numerous clubs where it can be heard live. However, what Jules and I really look forward to are the jazz festivals and in Osaka it just doesn’t get any better than the Takatsuki Jazz Festival, which is simply known here as ‘Jazz Street’ and is billed as the largest musical event of its kind in Japan.

Established in 1999, it has now developed into a major event on the jazz music calendar attracting visitors and musicians from all over the world. Amazingly, it remains totally free of charge, as it is run by a well organized group of t-shirt clad volunteers who ensure that you are aware of all the venues, which can vary from large open air spaces, cosy intimate bars or even a Buddhist shrine. Held during the warming days of spring (May), it coincides with ‘Golden Week’, (a series of national holidays), which ensures a happy and care free crowd. Over the two days of the festival, thousands invade Takatsuki, ready to indulge in good jazz and of course being true Osakans, also the wide range of food and drink on offer.

Once again Jules and I joined the legion of jazz fans enjoying the festivities, however as with our visit last year, we found the hardest task of the day was choosing which acts to see. With over 600 performances this year, it became a daunting task just deciding on how best to utilise our limited time. As with the nature of jazz itself, the style of the music on offer was so varied that finding our particular genre remained a major challenge. Needless to say, we found several terrific acts and thoroughly enjoyed their 45 minute bracket (the usual performance time), before quickly scurrying off to the next venue and the next act.

What struck us in particular this year was the number of young performers who were there entertaining the crowds. There were just so many accomplished musicians, who were clearly passionate about jazz and enjoying the opportunity to perform it. Certainly, the future of jazz music in Japan is in good hands with festivals such as this providing a much needed forum for a new generation of musicians to be recognized. The Takatsuki Jazz Festival continues to grow and in doing so it celebrates one of the wonderful qualities of the Japanese people … their love of all forms of jazz music and the people who perform it.

Relaxing at Raffles

One place that is truly synonymous with Singapore and a place that just has to be visited was the world famous Raffles Hotel. Forget about those big name hotel chains with their modern generic designs, this is a hotel that is a throw back to the grand old days of exotic travel and the experience staying in lodgings that oozed class and sophistication. Such is it’s stature in Singapore that in the surrounding area there are a myriad of streets, plazas, shopping centres and offices that have all adopted the ‘Raffles’ name, yet there remains just one ‘Raffles Hotel’. It is simply one of the most famous and visited hotels in the world!

Heading down Orchard Road, we came across the famous white colonial building and entered it from the side entrance, however to fully appreciate the grand facade in all its glory, you really need to head around to Beach Road. From here you can truly appreciate the impressive Victorian architecture and the leafy circular driveway that has welcomed the rich and famous since it’s opening in 1887. Indeed, Raffles has attracted many a visitor over the years, including Charlie Chaplain, Noel Coward, Jean Harlow and Rudyard Kipling, not to mention heads of state such as Queen Elizabeth and George Bush Snr. Not surprisingly this historic hotel has become a Singapore institution, having witnessed the cities development from remote colonial trading post to a modern economic powerhouse. Considering its iconic status and its exclusive clientele, I was amazed and thankful that tourists were able to walk freely around the grounds to appreciate the hotel as a living and working museum. In the courtyard, the bar staff were mixing cool drinks under the glass and wrought iron gazebo while in The Tiffin Room, white-jacketed waiters were preparing settings for lunch. In the billiard room, where reputedly the last wild tiger in Singapore was shot in 1902, the green felt was racked ready for a game, while the ornate fountain in the courtyard provided a soothing cascade, much as it did over a hundred years ago.

Of course, no visit to Raffles is quite complete without a visit to the Long Bar to enjoy a ‘Singapore Sling’. After all, it was behind this bar that this world famous drink was invented (around 1915) and on a 32 degree day in Singapore, there was simply no better place to be. Sitting high on a bar stool with the pink liquid concoction in hand (although a little sweet for my taste to be honest), I imagined the stories that these walls could tell. Looking overhead, traditional rattan ‘punkahs’ (broad fans) gently moved back and forth providing us with a gentle breeze. Today they run on small motors but back in the old days, ‘punkah-wallahs’ (fan men) would have stood there manually pulling them back and forth as ‘well to do’ patrons sat back and sipped their drinks … a very different era! On the bar we are provided with a large box of peanuts, harking back to yet another Long Bar tradition of strewing the empty shells on the floor, something I couldn’t quite bring myself to do although looking around, it was clearly the expectation.

Much like The Windsor in Melbourne and The Empress on Vancouver Island, Raffles is a gem of a hotel that is delightfully rare and unique. Over the years, places such as these have often been torn down and replaced with slick high-rise accommodation more intent on profit rather than character. Thankfully, Raffles has been acknowledged as a significant place that is well worth preserving. It’s architecture, history and contribution to the wonderful world of food and beverage has certainly been recognized worldwide and its survival is assured. For a visitor to Singapore, such as myself, it was a must see spot that provided a unique insight into a bygone era, even if it was just for a refreshing hour or two.

Getting Beneath the Gloss of Singapore

If you were asked to design the perfect world-class city, a vision not unlike Singapore is probably what might emerge. It is modern, clean and combines the built and natural environment perfectly. It remains culturally diverse and celebrates its historical past, while also conveying the impression of constantly looking forward. Yet despite its global reputation as being a truly great metropolis, like many other travelers my only experience of this great city had been during the occasional stopover at the airport en-route to somewhere else. Therefore, this week I was more than pleased to be attending a Visual Arts conference and to have the chance to get to know this impressive city a little better.

Driving in from the airport, I couldn’t but be immediately impressed by both the visual aesthetic and sheer scale of the city skyline. In one glance it seemed to encapsulate most of the major developments in high-rise architecture over the past thirty years. One of the most recent designs is the spectacular Marina Bay Sands Resort designed by renowned Israeli architect Moshe Safdie. Looking much like a futuristic cruise ship (referred to as the ‘Skypark’) that has been beached on top of three 55 storey towers, the $8 billion dollar building is said to be the worlds most expensive casino property and understandably dominates the picturesque marina. It towers over the smaller but no the less impressive ‘ArtScience’ Museum (also designed by Safdie), which he based upon the form of an unfolding lotus flower, although our driver had his own interpretation of the building by simply referring to it as ‘the five fingers’. Its delicate design is particularly unusual in a city that prides itself on its high-rise development (around 4,300) and in particular its skyscrapers (standing over 140 metres), which at the last count numbered 49 in the downtown area.

I have on occasions heard criticisms of Singapore as being too sterile and lacking the ‘grit’ of a big city. To be honest, it didn’t really give me that impression, particularly when you balance the slick corporate centres against the diverse cultural areas that lay within the city boundaries. Over the years, three major cultural groups, Chinese, Malay and Indian, have established their own distinct precincts that have added to the cultural fabric of Singapore and provided a rich historical, ethnic and architectural contribution to the city. On a balmy evening and accompanied by colleagues, we ventured into the bustling precinct of ‘Little India’ to find vibrant commercial streets filled with people and the scent of exotic spices. With Indian immigration harking back to the colonial days of the 1800’s, here there remains a flourishing community that continues to celebrate it’s culture through a myriad of shops selling jasmine garlands, silk saris and ethnic jewelry (particularly gold). The next night it was Chinatown, with its beautifully conserved colonial buildings and traditional religious temples. However, it was the famous outdoor food market that we had come to experience. Here, some of the best food in Singapore can be sampled at a bargain price. This includes the popular Laksa (spicy noodle soup), which certainly fulfilled our expectations along with several other delicious dishes. Both in Chinatown and little India, we were welcomed into their community with a smile, suggesting that their happy nature was not only a reflection of their pride in their city, but also their own cultural acceptance within it.

Of course, like most major cities in the Asian region, Singapore has no shortage of high end shopping, much of which is to be found on Orchard Road. We spent a few hours walking down this 2.5 kilometre homage to retail therapy, which is said to have the largest concentration of shopping malls in the world. It was certainly difficult to avoid them, as when crossing the street by overhead or underground walkway, you are led directly into a mall. Much like being caught in a spiders web, once entering it was often very difficult to escape. Back on the street, we came across the jewel in the crown of Orchard Road, ‘Istana’ (meaning palace in Malay), which is the official residence of the President of Singapore. It is a gracious white Victorian style mansion built in 1867, set against a manicured half an acre of grounds. Like the beautifully restored Singapore Art Museum and Raffles Hotel, which are on the same road, the care and maintenance of these 19th century buildings suggest a healthy respect for the cities colonial past as well as their historical relevance to its ongoing development.

It’s clear that modern Singapore represents more than just the trappings of big business. If you are prepared to scratch below the glossy surface, its history, culture and traditions suggest that it’s a city that has indeed far much more to offer.

Treasure Hunting at Kyoto Market

One of our regular routines back in Australia would be getting up early on Sunday morning to head off to the local ‘Trash ‘n’ Treasure’ market to see if we could pick up something interesting or unique. While most of the time what was for sale erred on being more trash rather than treasure, there was always the possibility finding something special lying at the bottom of an old box or trailer. So each week there was always a certain ‘thrill of the chase’ as Jules and I set off with great expectations of what we might bag.

From our traveling experience it seems that this basic primeval urge is evident in every culture and Japan is certainly no different. Since being in Osaka we have investigated a number of different markets in the Kansal region, each with their own unique character and variations in the goods for sale. However, currently our favorite one can be found at the Toji Temple in Kyoto where a couple of times a month the normally sedate sacred grounds are transformed into a bustling magnet for bargain hunters looking for all manner of furniture, pottery, artwork, clothes and general ‘bric-a-brac’. The beauty of the location, with its backdrop of wooden temples, is really quite a bonus that certainly enhances the market experience. This is in stark contrast to the deserted drive-in cinemas back in Australia that were often resurrected once a week for such events. Likewise, what is for sale seems to us far more exotic, representing both ancient and contemporary aspects of Japanese culture. It is not unusual to see stalls selling traditional kimonos and samurai swords next to ones selling manga comics and figurines of popular super heroes. We often see some wonderful old pieces of Japanese furniture, many of which are unfortunately far too large for us to carry home on the train. However, some of the most poignant artifacts for sale often come from the World War Two era; reminding us of the days of Imperial expansionism as seen from a Japanese perspective. While ephemera from the 50’s and 60’s provides tangible evidence of social and economic recovery and the inevitable influence of western culture.

 While our more favored antique market is held on the first Sunday of each month, the largest general market is actually held on the 21st day of each month (not quite sure of the significance of that date), which dramatically widens the scope of what is on offer. With the addition of all manner of produce stalls, plants and handicrafts, the market becomes enormous. So much so that stalls burst out from the temple grounds into the local streets.

Like all such markets, there is always a very lively and friendly atmosphere. Being free to enter, the market provides an interesting combination of bargain hunters, tourists and worshippers that makes it all quite unique. There is usually plenty of street food being cooked, providing some very tempting aromas and it’s not uncommon to see the local traders enjoying a bowl of noodles while conducting business. They are all pretty relaxed and it seems that they are well used to overseas visitors searching out interesting souvenirs of their time in the country. We have found that they are always prepared to make allowances for our lack of Japanese language and of course in the end, as always, money does the talking. While we are usually quite selective about what we acquire at the Toji Antique Market, the items gathered certainly provide some of our most cherished mementos of our time here so far.

Cheering on the Sumos

One of the things that Jules and I had put on our ‘must do list’ while in Japan was to attend a sumo tournament. Last year a major tournament planned for Osaka was cancelled due to a betting scandal that had tarnished the reputation of the country’s most revered sport. However this year, sumo was back and would nicely coincide with the arrival of a friend from Australia who was also very keen to see the ‘big boys’ demonstrating this unique form of martial art.

We had booked tickets for the final day of the two-week tournament and the stadium was a sellout. As we entered the Osaka Prefecture Gymnasium, the crowds were filling in for the final Makuuchi competition (the top division of professional sumo). We chose to sit on western style seats high on the third level, but if we wanted a closer view, we could have sat on pillows in one of the numerous tatami styled areas that circle the dohyo (the raised wrestling ring). It seemed that the closer you moved to the to the central ring, the more formal it all became with absolute ringside seats being reserved for traditionally dressed officials, the well to do of Osaka and the sumos themselves.

Eventually it was time for the wrestlers to make their appearance and following protocol, they strutted into the arena in reverse rank order, each wearing a large traditional apron called a kesko-mawashi. Following a short ritual ceremony, they were ready to begin, with each retiring to the dressing rooms to await their all important match. As with the previous days, each sumo would only fight once, adding to their win/loss record which would ultimately determine their overall ranking for the tournament.

As we began to watch proceedings, we became fascinated by the various traditions and gestures of the combatants and the officials. While the actual bouts might only last for a matter of seconds, there was always plenty happening in and around the dohyo. The sumos have up to four minutes to get their bout underway, so there is plenty of posturing, body slapping and throwing handfuls of salt into the ring (a ritual of purification). Finally they would take up positions with the mandatory stamping of feet before crouching ready for action. The fight itself is ‘no holds barred’ in an attempt to force an opponent to the ground or outside the circle. This can often result in a sumo being spectacularly tossed off the raised dohyo into the crowd, which probably explained why many of the wrestlers had battle scars and bandages following a long tournament.

The capacity crowd, who clearly had their favorites, enthusiastically cheered each encounter. The arrival of local sumo Goeido sent the fans wild and they were soon chanting his name throughout the stadium. With a ranking of 6th, he was taking on the much favored and higher ranked, Kakurya. The crowd support must have worked, as he went on to win the bout; much to the delight of the cheering fans. This was an unexpected defeat for Kakurya who could have won the tournament with that win. He was now forced into a final deciding bout to determine the ultimate champion. This would be against his archrival Hakuho, who was seeking revenge following his defeat at the previous tournament. It seems that Goeido’s earlier win had indeed proved decisive, shaking Kakurya's confidence and allowing Hakuho to go on to win the bout and the championship!

After receiving the rapturous adulation of the fans, the presentation ceremony began and as we were by now well entrenched in the atmosphere of the moment, we decided to stay although we would understand none of the speeches. One by one, large trophies were brought out and presented to Hakuko, who graciously acknowledged the crowd before passing them on to his assistants who dutifully rushed them off to his dressing room. We were somewhat amazed by the scale and number of these lavish gifts, some of which took two men to lift. By the tenth presentation and speech we finally decided to leave the stadium, with yet more trophies to be given waiting in the wings.

While having to learn much about the rules and formalities as we went along, we had certainly enjoyed our day of sumo wrestling. This was yet another facet of Japanese culture that continues to fascinate us westerners and the type of experience that makes a visit here so wonderfully unique.

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

As Jules and I continued to discover, the influence of American culture on modern Japanese society is everywhere. This is particularly evident with their love of baseball, which is the most popular summer sport in Japan. The people here follow the major leagues in (both Japan and US) with a passion and on the weekends scores of children can be seen pitching a ball or swinging a bat in local parks of Osaka. You might think that this infatuation with the American game evolved during the recovery years following World War Two…not so! In fact baseball in Japan dates back to the 1870’s and the two countries even competed in a competitive ‘All Star Series’ during the 1930’s. Today, Nippon Baseball is second biggest professional baseball league in the world, which continues to attract huge crowds, major sponsorships and in turn a significant number of US players. Each game is widely telecast and baseball stars are idolized here as much as they are in America.

Not having actually seen a baseball game here, we were prompted by the visit of a friend from Australia to visit the Osaka Dome to watch a trial game for the upcoming season. Both of our local teams, The Hanshin Tigers and The Orix Buffaloes, were playing each other in a ‘friendly’, but the match-up would be a good indicator for the season ahead and of course local pride was at stake. So while it rained steadily outside, we sat down in the heated undercover stadium, in our perfectly positioned seats to watch the big game unfold.

Being a pre-season competition many of the stands remained empty, which is in contrast the usual sellouts that regularly occur in the height of the season. Despite the somewhat smaller crowd, the ‘die hard’ fans were certainly there in force to enthusiastically encourage their team and to welcome in the new season. Wearing the mandatory team hat and shirt, they came to the game complete with banners, trumpets, drums and mini plastic baseball bats, which they would regularly bang together in practiced unison. Their enthusiastic barracking for their team was relentless and reinforced what I had previously heard about them being some of the most passionate fans in the world. We had adopted the Hanshin Tigers as our team for the day and in between watching the various activities in the crowd, we cheered and clapped along with our fellow fans through every hit and every out. In the midst of the excitement on the field, we couldn’t help but notice a number of people blowing up large, elongated balloons. The numbers continued to grow until by the end of the sixth innings it seemed like every second person was holding a coloured balloon in anticipation that something was going to happen. Suddenly as the players changed positions on the field and following a co-ordinated big screen countdown they were released screaming into the air followed by howls of laughter and smiles all around. It was indicative of the happy mood within the stadium where the result of the game didn’t appear to matter. A day at the baseball in Japan was clearly a fun day for the whole family, no matter what your age might be. For the record the Tigers went down to the Buffaloes on the day 5 – 9, but the result at this stage of the season was quite irrelevant. As they say in the classics…‘Baseball was the winner’ and we all walked away happier for the experience.

A Night in a Buddhist Monastery

One of the most interesting aspects of spending time in the sacred mountains of Koya is staying in one of the many Buddhist monasteries in the area. In fact there are actually over 100 monastic lodges, with a great many offering accommodation for visitors to the region. For Jules and I the opportunity of spending a night in this type of environment was certainly going to be an added bonus that we were both looking forward to with great anticipation. Buddhism continues to fascinate the both of us and the opportunity to take a glimpse into the life of the monks would provide us with yet another memorable Japanese experience.

Upon arrival, we were immediately struck by the beauty of the traditional architecture. As with most of the monasteries in the area, it was a classic Japanese design with a welcoming gateway leading to an internal courtyard. Inside, several wooden peaked roofed structures were linked by a series of undercover walkways, while the overall design nicely combined the use of grids and subtle decorative elements that are so typically Japanese. As we entered the building, its scale became increasingly evident; a fact that was further confirmed when we were provided with a room on the third floor. As expected this was simply laid out with traditional tatami mats and futons, but we couldn’t manage to escape the modern world entirely, with a somewhat out of place flat screen TV sitting uncharacteristically in the corner.

As we had been warned, both the evening and breakfast meals are served very early in the monastery (5.30pm and 7.30am). Sitting cross-legged on tiny pillows in an even larger tatami room, Jules and I looked warily at an interesting range of vegetarian offerings that had been proudly served on small trays that held a range of delicate little bowls. To be honest there wasn’t too much there that immediately took our fancy, but in the spirit of the experience we grabbed our chopsticks and began to sample them, even if we weren’t quite sure what we were actually eating.

By far the highlight of our experience in the monastery was having the privilege of attending morning prayers. After being woken by the droning gong of the morning bell at the crack of dawn (6.15am), we braved the chilly air and headed downstairs toward the temple. Removing our slippers we stepped into an ornate room with a large ceremonial alter and in doing so caught sight of two monks kneeling on the floor deep in contemplation. In front of each of them was a thick book, from which they proceeded to read through a long series of syncronised chants. Interspersed with the occasional gong or crash of symbols, the droning chants continued to become quite hypnotic. Eventually, guests were invited to pay their own homage to divine Buddha by adding a small contribution of incense to a burning tray near the alter. The sweet scent now filled the air, further adding to the atmosphere, as the chants continued to resonate throughout the temple. While it was difficult for us to decipher any particular meaning from the ceremony, it was clear that each gesture, sound and smell was very significant to their faith. As we respectfully watched the rituals of the ceremony, we felt that on that cold clear morning, we had been honored to be included in such a time honored tradition.

The Sacred Sites of Koyasan

While in search of the definitive traditional Japanese experience, friends had told us of a place only a few hours away from Osaka that attracts visitors from all over the world yet remains unspoilt by commercialism. The place is Mt. Koya (or ‘Koyasan’ as it is known locally) and is the most sacred of places for the followers of the Shingon sect of Japanese Buddhism. Perched so high in the mountains that you need to catch a cable car to get there, the tiny town consists of over 100 unique temples that are justifiably listed as a UNESCO world heritage site. So, on a sunny day on the last day of winter, Jules and I joined the steady stream of pilgrims who were following the route around sacred temples and monuments dating back to 819 AD.

An indication of the depth of history associated with this place became obvious as we trekked the path toward Okunion Temple. Here, amongst towering cedars that are several hundred years old, is a sea of ancient monuments and tombstones of various shapes and sizes. In fact there are some 200,000 of them covering the landscape; some grand and imposing, others inconspicuously blending into the foliage. As Jules and I both noted, walking through here provided a very different atmosphere than any western style graveyard we had visited. Perhaps it was the randomness of the monuments or neutrality of the colours that allowed them to discreetly blend into the environment over time. In any case, the walk was particularly tranquil and certainly provided us with many photographic images along the way. Crossing Gobyonohashi Bridge, we caught sight of the Torodo Hall (the hall of lamps) and following a crowd of pilgrims, we venture around the back to Kobo Daishi’s Mausoleum. There was quiet chanting and the smell of incense in the air. This is indeed a very sacred place, as Kobo Daishi (774–835) was the founder and grand master of the Shingon Buddhist sect and it is here that followers believe that he remains in a state of eternal meditation. At this point we both wished that we understood Buddhism a little better.

The next day we joined yet more groups of pilgrims (recognisable by their all white outfits and traditional conical hats called a ‘sugegasa’) and headed down the road toward Garan, Koyasan’s central temple compound. Here, within a relatively small area, seven major temples were built during various centuries during the life of the sect. As the pilgrims systematically paid homage to each and every building with chants, prayers and monetary donations, we chose to quietly wander around the site with camera in hand. In the centre of the compound was Kondo Hall, an impressive ceremonial wooden temple, but the jewel in the crown was the Konpon Daito Pagoda. Standing some 45 metres tall, this bright orange wooden temple remains testament to the design and construction skills of traditional Japanese craftsmen. While being intricately detailed, it retains a certain level of traditional simplicity that continues to be admired by many visitors to this region.

As we stood there in admiration of this amazing collection of temples, five monks in ceremonial robes approached, intent upon paying homage to each of the shrines; a task that has been undertaken daily for many centuries. In fulfilling their regular duty they were also providing us with one of those memorable moments that can only be experienced when you make the effort to visit such a remote yet culturally significant location. Much like a scene from a bygone era, their simple ritual revealed an aspect of traditional Japan that is becoming increasingly harder to find and certainly one we have been searching for in our travels beyond the city.

Meeting Mr. Osumi

In these days of Middle Eastern uncertainty, as countries once again seriously contemplate the notion of nuclear warfare, it would be well worth leaders going to Hiroshima to remind themselves of the disastrous effects of the A-bomb. This week was my third visit to this historical Japanese city that became known world wide as a result of the events of August 6, 1945. The trip was once again a humbling experience that was no less poignant; as we respectfully viewed the various monuments and museum exhibits that document the circumstances and aftermath of the detonation. However, nothing brings you closer to the experience than hearing the words of those who directly experienced it and we were fortunate to meet with one of the dwindling number of survivors who are able to share their memories of this fateful day.

Mr. Katsuto Osumi is a stately gentleman whose dignified appearance and positive outlook belied the horrific experiences of his youth. He was seven years old when he witnessed first hand the blinding flash of white light from the A-bomb as he stood only two kilometers from its epicenter. Amazingly he suffered relatively few outward injuries, but years later his intense exposure to radiation would take its toll, as he would eventually contract three different forms of cancer over the ensuing years. He spoke vividly about of the unbelievable days immediately following the bombing as his family survived on grass and frogs in the nearby mountains, in constant fear of yet another attack. He remembered, as if it were yesterday, the steady flow of corpses drifting down the river, which were dragged onto the bank only to lay decaying until eventually being burnt on makeshift funeral fires that in turn created an all pervading stench that lasted for weeks. Eventually he would return to the city, only to witness the slow ongoing deaths of family and friends over the months and years ahead. In later years, as his own health issues emerged, he thought how strange it was that he would be treated using radiation, as this is what he had been told had actually caused his problems. He spoke of the discrimination that would emerge toward A-bomb victims and the embarrassment of revealing to potential marital partners that you had suffered radiation exposure, as sterility or the possibility of deformed births remained an ongoing social fear. Despite all this, Mr. Osumi continued to demonstrate throughout his life the resilience of the human spirit and his own ability to think positively through adversity. He worked for many years in a large Japanese corporation, becoming the oldest player in the company’s baseball team, before eventually leaving, whilst in his 50’s, to establish his own successful sales company. He holds no animosity about what happened to him and despite his ongoing health issues and treatment, genuinely expects to live well beyond 100 years. Yet, no matter how many years lay ahead, he remains firmly committed to relaying to others his own very personal experiences and to reminding us all about the horrors of nuclear warfare. His softly spoke words were testament to the destructive toll of such weapons and the long-term physical and psychological effects they can have upon individuals and a society as a whole.

While the city of Hiroshima has certainly emerged from the ashes, the sorrow it carries lies just below the surface, providing a sobering lesson for the current nuclear-armed countries to reflect upon.

Osaka on Two Wheels

While Japan is known throughout the world for its automotive dominance, the number of cars on their roads would simply pale into significance to the amount of bikes. As we have found out, bicycles are widely used throughout the city and country by people of all ages and social standing. I recently read that around 60% of the population actually own their own bike, so that’s around about 73,000,000 throughout Japan! They come in a variety of forms, but unlike the highly stylised locally produced cars, the bikes here generally appear quite old fashioned. They are built for function rather than looks, most are single geared and come with a basket and carry rack. With bike theft being the number one crime in Japan, each bike has its own key lock and for added security, is registered with the local police. Each day a myriad of cyclists can be seen commuting to work, school or to the local train station. Indeed, around most stations there are multi-storey parking stations dedicated for bikes, while just about every vacant space around town has been adapted into bike parking area.

Their presence certainly cannot be ignored as we walk around our local streets, with Jules and I both having a few close shaves from cyclists who have suddenly whizzed past at high speed. Technically they are supposed to use the road, unless otherwise indicated by a signpost, but this rule seems to be largely ignored, so there always remains a certain element of risk in just taking a stroll. It’s not that we don’t like bikes, but it can be a very dodgy experience when you combine their high speed, the narrow pathways and a distinct lack of warning as they approach from behind. Here they have a habit of suddenly creeping up on you, only to scare the living daylights out of you when they suddenly pass just inches away. We often wonder whether they feel that they are being somehow impolite by ringing the bell, or maybe it’s just the sheer bravado of many riders in thinking that they can successfully dodge around the unsuspecting pedestrians without them even knowing…who knows! In any case, we remain constantly on the alert, with one eye looking over our shoulders. We have even been quite wary about walking side by side in case we further narrow the gap that a rider can squeeze through and inadvertently increase the chance of an accident.

We’ve been told that bike related accidents are notoriously high, as clearly the bicycle rules here are particularly sketchy, with only one major rule that seems to exist … ‘Don’t have an accident’! If any laws do exist they won’t actually be enforced unless you have one. This includes what you might get up to while riding your bike. It is not uncommon to see someone riding the streets while carrying an open umbrella, listening to their iPod or talking on their mobile phone; possibly all at once! Likewise, there doesn’t seem to be any restrictions on carrying passengers, with toddlers often placed in the front basket or friends hanging on precariously while sitting on the back carry rack. Amazingly enough, we have also yet to see anyone wearing a helmet, even though apparently 40% of road fatalities are cyclists! This is not totally surprising, as there certainly seems to be a nonchalant attitude toward bike riding and the general rules of the road.

Friends often ask me if I’m ever going to get a bike and then look quizzically when I state that I am happy just to walk. Sure, you might get there quicker, but for the time being I’ll keep my feet on the ground and take my chances treading the footpaths of Osaka.

A Night at the Races

It has been many years since Jules and I have been to the horse races, but the opportunity to visit Hong Kong’s Happy Valley Races was simply to good to resist. It remains one of the cities major attractions and is always listed as a ‘must see’ while in town. However, there are a few things that make this particular race meeting different from many others in the world. The location of the track is right in the heart of Hong Kong, which makes it particularly accessible, while the towering buildings that surround ‘The Valley’ adds to it’s unique atmosphere. Looped by the cities famous double decker trams, this weekly event attracts thousands of race goers every Wednesday night. Indeed, the fact that it’s a night time race meeting has probably been the biggest reason for its success over the years, with punters regularly streaming in after work to enjoy the colourful and exciting spectacle.

So for the first race meeting of 2012, Jules and I decided to join the crowd. We had found out about a special tourists ticket that enabled us to gain access to most areas of the course, so we walked casually through the members entrance as if we knew all about the racing world, which we certainly don’t. The first thing that struck us was the sheer size of the track and grand stand area. This was clearly an event that took pride in its status as a longstanding Hong Kong tradition and has continued to reflect its success through ongoing upgrades of its facilities. The sense of wealth was obvious and over the years it has clearly attracted some of the major owners, trainers and jockeys from around the world. On the night we were there, top Australian jockey Darren Beadman was on board several horses. In fact, he rode one of our first winners, although I must admit these were actually ‘hypothetical bets’ that we were having when we first arrived. It was unfortunately a very different story when we began to place ‘real’ money on our tips. Like so many other punters before us, our foolproof system of choosing horses based upon their names eventually let us down. However, our meager losses didn’t detract from the fun of the evening. We simply enjoyed sitting high in the members stand eating our Chinese dinner (a little different than the regular Aussie pie and chips) and watching the activities below. Whether it was the sizable brigade of ‘divot fillers’ who systematically ventured onto the track between races, the horses parading before their big race or the roar of the excited crowd at finish line, it was all part of a big night at the Hong Kong races.

Our Hong Kong Stopover

After a great Christmas of catching up with family and friends, we headed back to Japan, but this time it was suggested that we might like to break up our journey with a quick stop over in Hong Kong. As we had never been there before we thought that would be a terrific idea, so we allowed a little time and just a bit of space in our suitcases for some last minute shopping. After all, ‘spending’ is what this city was built upon and it continues to live up to its reputation as one of the great ‘retail’ capitals of the world. Jules was certainly in her element, although we were both amazed by the sheer number of ‘high end’ shops, many of which were simply out of our league. Nonetheless it is fair to say we did make a small contribution to the local economy as we continued to explore this bustling city over the next three days.

Being winter we tended to limit our sightseeing, but of course a trip to Hong Kong is not quite complete without a visit to Victoria Peak. So we jumped on board the funicular railway and made our way up the steep slope. As we headed upward, we were literally pushed back into our seats by the sheer angle of the incline and with the increasing chill factor, it gave us some idea of our viewing altitude. Yet, despite the cloudy haze, there was no denying the quality of the ultimate view. It certainly provided us with an amazing insight into the scale, architectural achievements and population density of this great city.

By sunset we were back down at sea level and enjoying a nice cocktail at the ‘Felix’ bar (designed by Philippe Stark) at the iconic Peninsular Hotel. This landmark of Hong Kong was originally built in 1928 and remains a lasting reminder of the British colonial days when the hotel entertained rich and famous visitors who had traveled from Europe on the Trans-Siberian rail link. More recently the grand hotel was a pit stop for Michael Palin as he traveled ‘Around the World in 80 days’. From here we headed down to the foreshore to watch the nightly light show from the Kowloon side of the harbour. Lasers scanned the sky and coloured lights danced across various high-rise buildings, adding to the excitement of Hong Kong by night. However I must say, the colourful skyline was just as impressive from the vantage point of the water ferry that regularly moves back and forth from Hong Kong Island and the mainland.

The next night we had the opportunity to explore the nightlife a little further when we caught up with our friends from Japan who had originally suggested our stop over. As regular visitors, they certainly knew all the best spots and had no hesitation in recommending that we head to the Soho entertainment district. This was not far from our hotel and was easily accessed by the extensive overhead walkway, which has what is recognised as the worlds longest escalator system. This was quite an amazing part of the old town; filled with restaurants, bars and nightclubs and on a Friday night it was really jumping, with happy crowds spilling into the streets. Clearly the expat community had discovered this neighborhood many years ago and had cultivated it into a very popular nightspot. We had previously explored the somewhat quieter side of this area during the day, as it is renowned for its many small galleries and antique shops, as well as the nearby Graham Street Market, which is the oldest continually running street market in Hong Kong (160 years). As an expert on the worlds great food markets and as a true connoisseur of fresh produce, Jules was in awe of what this place had to offer and of its ridiculously cheap prices. It seemed that whether it was the humble street market or the exclusive luxury brand arcades, Hong Kong had something for everyone and we had only just begun to scratch the surface! I suspect that this won’t be our last Hong Kong stopover, but I think there may be the need for a little more suitcase room next time.

Trekking the Mount Lofty Pass

It is over ten years ago since my good friend Daryl suggested that we should both tackle a walk to the top of Mount Lofty, the tallest and only significant mountain close to Adelaide. I guess at that stage in our lives we had the ominous feeling that middle age spread was beginning to set in, so we were both looking for interesting options to improve our fitness. A trek up a misty mountain in the early hours of the morning had a certain challenging appeal! We knew that the Waterfall Gully to Mt. Lofty walking track had been there since the pioneer days of South Australia, rambling upward to the summit, providing a 7.8km round trip walk. At that time the trail had remained relatively unchanged, despite the fact that many an intrepid hiker had tackled the steep slopes over the years. As we found out for ourselves, the narrow path weaved through gum trees, over rocks and across mountain streams, occasionally providing tantalizing glimpses of the flat pains below. At the summit we were rewarded for our efforts with a spectacular 180-degree panoramic of the city and surrounding area, as well as coastal views across Gulf St.Vincent through to Yorke Peninsula on a clear day.

Over the years Daryl and I had always enjoyed this leisurely walk and in between huffing and puffing, it allowed us time to talk and reflect upon the events of the day. We solved many of the world’s problems on that trail, while also seeking each other’s opinion on life’s big issues. Whether it was in the scorching heat of summer or the drizzly depths of winter, we regularly enjoyed the picturesque walk and it remains a ritual that I have missed since we moved overseas. On this trip home, Daryl and I again tackled the trail, both a little older, but no less enthusiastic. To be honest, the trek is a little different today than my ‘watercolour memories’ of it from all those years ago. It has clearly become much more popular and as a result has subsequently undergone considerable upgrades. The rocky, uneven tracks that I remember, have now been widened and paved in many areas to cope with the increased foot traffic, with seats and resting points along the way. New generations of hikers, fitness fanatics, nature lovers, tourists, families and friends have been introduced to the this unique walking trail and not surprisingly it has now developed into one of Adelaide’s most popular natural attractions. From our traveling experience, its close proximity to the city still remains quite unique on the world stage and with an easy 15 minutes drive from the city, it provides a seamless transition from the suburbs into natural bushlands. However, in order to admire the stunning view you will need to work a little harder than that! Although the trail is not too punishing, it is challenging enough and in the end, if your prepared to give it a go, I can guarantee that you won’t be disappointed with the outlook or the satisfaction you will feel as you head down the somewhat easier down hill run.

Sipping the Southern Vales

Amazingly another year has passed and we’re back in Adelaide, Australia for Christmas. As usual the sun is blazing and the barbeque is in full swing. There is a golden turkey on the table and a nice drop of chilled local wine to accompany it.

Frankly, you couldn’t do much better, particular in regard to wines. Over the years South Australia has a built a worldwide reputation for fine wines that continues to attract tourists. This was particularly highlighted when we were in the UK, where local brands like Jacobs Creek, Wolf Blass and Leasingham were well established commercial brands sold in supermarkets everywhere. These particular wines come from the north of Adelaide in the famed Barossa and Clare Valley regions, however Jules and I have always had a particular bias toward the slightly lesser known Southern Vales region of McLaren Vale. This area was close to where we both lived in our younger days and over the years we have seen this region grow from a handful of small wineries into a prestigious wine growing area.

So with the Christmas celebrations over, we decided to take a trip down memory lane by revisiting the Southern Vales to sample the product direct from the cellar. The first stop was to one of our old favorites, Wirra Wirra Wines which continues to go from strength to strength, with it’s classic Church Block Red and Mrs. Wigley Rose. The folk here are particularly friendly and knowledgeable about their wines, however on this particular day we were looking for a champagne style white, which unfortunately they no longer produce. Their suggestion was to try the d’Arenberg Winery, that had just released a quite exceptional sparkling Chardonnay Pinot Noir. We had been to d’Arenberg a few years ago and had a wonderful meal at their restaurant called ‘d’Aary’s Verandah’, so we knew that it would be a quality wine ...and it was! After a confirming taste as we admired the view, a bottle was quickly purchased before heading off to explore the nearby Coriole Vineyards. This was a winery that we had previously brought visitors to from overseas, not only for its great wines, but also for its equally commanding views over the Southern Vales. Once again it didn’t disappoint, although it was now clear that many others had now also discovered this place, as it had noticeably expanded since the time we were last there.

Our final stop would be at Leconfield Winery, which is a relatively new name to the area, but certainly not to quality wine making. Originating at Coonawarra in the south east of the state, the brand has gained a reputation for producing some of South Australia’s most prestigious wines. However, it’s winemaking credentials were established way back in the 1800’s and with family connections through Hamilton Wines, a long established McLaren Vale winery, it’s expansion into the areas was inevitable.

As Jules and I sipped a nice champagne style Curvee Blanc and looked out over the acres of vineyards, we reflected on how well the southern wine trail had developed over the years. It had become not only a centre for fine wines, but also for quality cuisine. While the region had always been quietly well regarded by South Australians, it was now clear that the secret was well and truly out. We had always thought that it more than compared with its counterpart to the north of Adelaide, but now we felt that it could truly claim to be one of the great wine areas of the world.

Tasting Kobe Chinatown

Just about every major city in the world has its very own Chinatown...nothing new there. These cultural centres reflect historical and cultural connections with China, all condensed within a small bustling area. However, there is usually one common and significant element that draws the wider community to these areas and that’s simply the food. With the Osakan love of all things culinary, it is therefore strange that there is actually no designated Chinatown area to visit in the city. However, you don't have to go too far, with the nearby city of Kobe taking the honors with a thriving Chinatown that has a great atmosphere and a terrific selection of food.

Certainly when Jules and I are in town we always pay a visit to enjoy the many freshly cooked dishes for which the area has become famous. Kobe Chinatown is set in the area of Nachinmachi, which is just a short walk from the train station and not too far away from the nearby coastal port. No matter what time of the day, this area is always teaming with people, keen to get a quick bite to eat and to enjoy the various festivities. There always seem to be street performances on the weekends and of course the terrific food attracts queues of people, particularly for the wide variety of street food on offer. It certainly is a colourful, thriving environment that has a unique visual appeal that is distinctly different from any other place in the Kansai region. We often comment on how genuinely ‘Chinese’ it all feels... so much so, that it almost has a 'theme park' feel. Not having been to China, we ask ourselves whether this is all truly authentic or just a foreigners notion of what a Chinese town might look like. For all we know, it may not be truly authentic Chinese food that we are eating after all, but rather a Japanese version of some familiar dishes? This is likely the case, but it is definitely different from the normal Japanese style cuisine. The truth is that we don't particularly mind, to us the food is simply hot, cheap and delicious!

This particular Chinatown has built it's reputation as a great place to stop for distinctly different food. While the area is buzzing don't expect nice tables and chairs to sit back and enjoy the atmosphere. This is food of the stand up variety. You will often see people huddled in side streets downing steamed pork buns or squatting somewhere to devour a deep fried chicken skewer. For us it’s normally an irresistible bite on the run that tempts you from the moment you smell those tasty aromas.

Whether it’s the food, the culture or the atmosphere, there is certainly something about this place that is quite unique and continues to attracts thousands of Japanese, as well as a couple of foreigners, to keep returning again and again.

The Merchants of Kurashiki

Living in the fast paced world of modern Japan, it’s often difficult to imagine what towns and villages might have been like in more simple times. However, Jules and I had a little taste of it when we visited the historic city of Kurashiki, which lies to the west of Osaka. We were on our return journey from Naoshima Island when we decided to investigate the old merchant quarter, which is highly regarded for it’s seventeenth century wooden shops and warehouses (Kurashika actually translates as ‘town of storehouses’).

After a short walk from the station, we turned into a series of narrow laneways, which made us feel as though we were stepping back in time. The area suddenly took on the appearance of a village scene from the Edo period (1603-1867). Electrical poles had disappeared and the architecture of the buildings took on a much more recognisable Japanese style. The gently flowing canal that ran through the centre of the area further enhanced the atmosphere of the old town. Lined with weeping willows, set amongst the autumn colours and with white swans paddling along, it all looked very picturesque. As we stood on one of the arched stone bridges, we could see a small canal boat slowly making its way along the waterway being punted by a boatman in a traditional outfit. This was much as you imagine it might have looked hundreds of years ago, however this time he was carrying tourists rather than merchants or produce. As we admired the scene and as if on queue, a bride and groom arrive to having their wedding photos taken while wearing traditional wedding attire. We thought that it couldn’t get much more authentic than this.

Close by there was a grand neo-classic building that appeared to be oddly out of place and this was somewhat of a bonus for us, as it turned out to be the Ohara Art Museum, which holds one of Japans finest permanent collections of western art. We spend a couple of hours leisurely wandering around the numerous buildings that compile the museum and we left very impressed. In many ways it offered more than some of the museums we had seen on Naoshima, with an excellent cross-section of significant modern and traditional styles. Back on the streets, the tourist numbers had definitely increased with the arrival of a number of tourist buses, although there still appeared to be very few westerners. We seemed to have attracted some attention as a number of people stopped to ask where we are from and to generally practice their English language.

We certainly felt a warm and welcoming atmosphere in Kurashiki (much as it is throughout Japan) and we were really pleased that we had taken the time to stop on our way back to Osaka. However, there was just one more place to visit before we headed home and that was the outlet shopping centre that Jules had spied near the railway station. These were merchants of the more contemporary kind, but she is never one to miss a bargain no matter where we are.

Naoshima Art Island

If you’re looking for some of the most cutting edge contemporary artwork you don’t necessarily need to go to Paris, New York or London, you can see it on a small island off the coast of Japan, called Naoshima.

As an art teacher, this was a location that was often mentioned to me as a place that I must make the effort to see, as it was only a couple of hours from Osaka. Taking the short ferry crossing from Uno, Jules and I arrived on a brisk, but sunny autumn morning to walk between the major hotspots that continue to add to Naoshima’s growing reputation in the art world. Our first stop was at what is referred to as the ‘Art House Project’, where abandoned houses have been turned over to artists to develop into works of art. Following our walking trail map, we moved to each of the seven houses to find them to be creatively very different from each other. Our two favorites were ‘Haisha’ by Shinro Ohtake with its eclectic scrapbook of sculptural materials and ‘Minamidera’ by James Turrell, which encouraged us to pause in complete darkness to eventually discover its slowly emerging illuminations. For us, part of the appeal of the project was its setting amongst the simple homes of the local people who had clearly embraced this artistic concept by welcoming visitors enthusiastically to view these thought provoking environments.

Heading toward the coast, we set our sights on Bennesse House, designed by renowned post-modernist architect Tadao Ando. His futuristic design is set into the hills overlooking the picturesque bay and integrates both an art museum and hotel within its walls. The interior of the building looks as if it could be a set from a James Bond movie and not surprisingly is actually included in Robert Benson’s 007 novel, ‘The Man With The Red Tattoo’. However, what particularly attracts visitors is its site-specific collection of installation art by many of the worlds leading artists. Sculptural artworks of varying scale can also be found scattered throughout the extensive grounds, with possibly the most popular being the bright yellow dotted ‘Pumpkin’ of Yayoi Kasama that sits boldly at the end of a short, stone pier. As we walked around the coast, other works would unexpectedly appear, sometimes subtle and at other times strangely out of context.

We moved on to the much-anticipated ChiChu Art Museum, another striking piece of minimalist Ando architecture, which is set almost entirely underground. We had heard that the museum housed a small collection of priceless Monet paintings as well as more recent works by a number of leading contemporary artists. Indeed, in a large white room lit only by natural light, five works from the famed ‘Waterlillies’ series were boldly displayed. In hushed silence we viewed the works while wearing white slippers that had been given to us in order to protect the millions of tiny squares of white stone that lay under foot. We both agreed that this was probably taking artistic reverence a bit too far. To our disappointment only a few other works could be seen (only four others in total); the most striking being a room installation by Walter de Maria that contained a 2.2 metre diameter sphere sitting precariously on a steep flight of stairs. In the end we were both reconciled to the opinion that it was definitely the building itself that was the most significant piece of art on show. Its brutalist use of raw cement formed an abstract, uniformed space that continued to draw our eyes upward toward the sky via its numerous skylights and voids, making it a totally unique environment for displaying art.

As we made our way back toward the ferry late in the day, we reflected on what we had seen and how bold the notion had been to create a centre for contemporary art in such a remote and unlikely location. Clearly this was a case study that reaffirmed the old adage of… ‘if you build it, they will come’.

A Night in a Ryokan

Over the years Jules and I have stayed in many different styles of accommodation. Although hotels are fine, in many ways we often find them cold and impersonal. Where possible we much prefer private apartments or bed and breakfasts, as it’s nice to meet a local in order to put the whole experience in context and to gain the benefit of their experience. Such was the case when we recently visited the little coastal town of Uno, en route to Naoshima Island where we had our first experience of staying in a Japanese ‘ryokan’.

This form of traditional guest house still remains very popular in Japan as it is generally better value than the mainstream hotels while also providing a much more authentic experience for travelers such as ourselves. Jules’ extensive research had led us to a nice little place, which was owned by an interesting bloke called Max (not his birth name I would imagine) who, fortunately for us, spoke very good English as a result of living in New York for many years. Upon our meeting, he explained that he actually subsidized his documentary filmmaking career by running his ryokan in the house that was originally owned by his parents. Despite a few westernized inclusions, it had remained pretty much as it had been in their day, providing a warm and reassuring ‘lived in’ feel, which was certainly what we were looking for from our first Japanese guest house experience. After walking up steep and narrow steps, we found ourselves in the cozy entrance area that sat under the deep eaves of the building. We entered through the traditionally lightweight wooden sliding door that we now recognize as the hallmark of early Japanese architecture. At that point I strangely pondered about the notion of door hinges, thinking that they must have been a relatively recent inclusion into Japanese house building and that they were most likely only introduced into common usage after the war. Until then all interior rooms were simply denoted by a series of sliding screens that also offered a degree of flexibility to the room layout. This was certainly a notion that was quite ahead of its time and to a degree later adopted by a number of European modernists.

Once inside the entry, we can see a clear demarcation between the inside and the outside with a significant step upward from tiles to wooden floorboards. With slippers neatly lined up, it also signals that at this point we need to remove our shoes. We are shown our room, which not unexpectedly had a tatami mat flooring (woven rush grass) on which our futon beds are invitingly rolled out. As is the Japanese way, the room was sparsely decorated with just a couple of nicely crafted wooden cabinets and a selective collection of traditional pottery items. There was a small dressing area that could be hidden away by shutting gridded screens, allowing us to also close off our view of the garden at end of the day. While these barriers to the outside world provided some extra insulation from the cold weather, we were grateful for the modern luxury of air-conditioning as we slept within the thin walls of the old Japanese house.

Waking from our first night on our futons, we felt remarkably refreshed and ready for a busy day of sightseeing. To help us on our way Max had promised us one of his famous breakfasts, however this time the more traditional Japanese rice dish gave way to New York style pancakes! It seemed that he had learnt more than just the language in America. As he flipped the pancakes, we chatted about his life, family and the changing nature of Japanese society. It was a great way to start the day and although he had seen many visitors over the years, we felt like we were the first. Good hospitality was important to him and by the end of the day we knew that his ryokan guesthouse would certainly be a warm, welcoming and comfortable place for us to return.

Autumn in the Suburbs of Osaka

As we get deeper into November the days are getting colder and autumn is now upon us in Osaka, Japan. Much like the arrival of cherry blossom in spring, autumn brings about it’s own celebrations as the leaves on the trees turn a fabulous array of burning bright colours. Of course there are many picturesque locations where you can view amazing autumnal scenes in all their splendour, but for Jules and I it’s just as interesting to watch the activities in and around our local streets and suburbs.

There is a street we walk regularly between our apartment and the train station that seems to be the focus for some annual seasonal excitement. It’s not a particularly special street, but it is wide and is lined with what we think is a kind of Maple tree (judging by the shape of the leaves). At this time of the year the normally quiet road comes alive with cars and even bus loads of people who come especially to see the yellow, orange and red leaves that create a multicoloured canopy for the pedestrians below. It seems that the viewing of leaves (referred to as Koyo) is a very popular pastime in Japan, drawing large crowds to some particularly favoured locations, whether they be in the mountains or even humble suburban streets.

On sunny days visitors can be seen setting up their folding chairs at the side of the road just to admire the outlook and bask in the remaining rays of sunshine. Similarly, painters and photographers come fully equipped with easels and tripods in search of a suitable vantage point that might inspire them to produce a work of art. At the very least passers by can often be seen taking their mobile phones out to get a quick shot to capture that unique moment of colour. Much like cherry blossom season (sakura), the excitement of ‘Koyo’ lasts for only a few short weeks with the leaves eventually giving way to cold winter winds. However, for just a short while we are all at one with nature and continue to admire it’s beauty in the most unlikely of locations. Photos taken at the big name locations will continue to adorn books, calendars and posters all year round, as such images are so quintessentially Japanese.

While our little road will not necessarily feature in any publications, it still provides a great source of pleasure for locals and visitors alike. So for the remaining few weeks we will continue to enjoy our little autumn hot spot and like our visitors, will take the odd photographic keepsake to record the joy of nature in our local suburb.