Yama no mae de, Michi ni mayoimashita

Day three and the plan was to return back to Kyoto to check out, surprise surprise some more shrines. Being in the same place definitely speeded up things and after breakfast at what I think is possibly the most British café in Osaka, though there toast is still rubbish, we were on our way.

We started the day by visiting the Fushimi inari shrine, or rather complex of shrines, just south of Kyoto. This place was truly incredible and also features in memoirs of a Geisha so I’m told. After entering at the foot of the mountain your eyes are assailed by many of those giant red gates so characteristic of Shinto shrines. The Fushimi Inari is actually a series of shrines interconnected by pathways lined with such gates.

I think I recall someone saying that there were over a thousand and I can definitely believe it, everywhere you looked there were strings of such gates winding their way up for miles and miles. As we entered from the bottom a pair of American girls proclaimed that, to paraphrase, it was a pretty long hike. Of course me being me that was a challenge so I set out briskly for the top.

There were many quite interesting little shrines dotted about the complex. I actually stopped at one to fill out a “Kanae Bina” which you bind to the shrines gate in the hopes it will grant your wish, I’m not telling what I wished for. There were also some lovely Tengu statues (wind guardians) and Kitsune (fox) shrines lining the way.

After stopping at a koi pond for a little rest with Mum and Dad I forged on ahead. I asked a lady at a café how far till the top and she told me it was about an hour. “Pah I can do it in 40 minutes.” I thought. I told the rents I was off to the top and I would see them at the bottom. We had hoped to be done by about 1pm so we could head to Ayashijima to see the lakes and cormorant fishing displays.

I reached the top which disappointingly was just a shrine with a small sign indicating it was the top of the mountain. This is of course where things started to go wrong. As any seasoned hiker will tell you, never go of the path. Sadly my old dual Achilles heels of boredom and curiosity got the better of me.

Descending from the mountain I found a small path leading away from the Tori gates. Figuring it would give me a better view off the side of the mountain, and also noting it was fairly well trodden, it seemed like a good idea. The other thing going through my head was that at the end of the day there were these great big red gates everywhere so I couldn’t get too lost.

How wrong I was. After wandering aimlessly for about an hour I realized I couldn’t remember where I’d come from. At that point the only real way to go was down. In the distance I saw something red and though that would be my ticket out of the undergrowth. Alas it was just a large drum of water for putting out fires.

It wasn’t long till I found myself in the middle of a bamboo forest and that's when I started to get scared. The bamboo shoots were very densely connected and I found it difficult to distinguish which way was which. Now I was getting really worried, I didn’t want to phone the rents jut yet though. I figured if I called them they would panic which would panic me more.

As luck would have it I managed to pick up on the sound of traffic. With no real Idea where I was and the fact that it was coming from a direction that led don, I figured it was my best bet to get down. After a few “Giri Giri” (close call) moments I emerged sweaty, mucky and covered in spider webs, on some form of road.

I gave my Dad a bell and explained what had happened and told him I’d phone again when I reached civilization. He chuckled at my idiocy, though I think it would have been different had I phoned earlier. I then set off towards the centre of the town I was in and asked for directions.

It turned out I’d actually emerged on the opposite side of the mountain from where I’d started, whoops. Still I think getting lost really does help you learn another language. Being in the backwaters no one really spoke English but I managed to cobble together enough information to get back to Kyoto.

I arrived at the station just next to the international manga museum, somewhere I had really wanted to visit, and so I phoned up my parents to tell them where I was headed. At this point they where fed up of waiting for me, something they had to do a lot (sorry again guys I’m definitely going to buy a watch), and so headed back to Tennoji.

After swinging buy Yoshinoya for a quick, and cheap, yaki-toridon I ventured into the museum. I say museum but to be honest it was more a glorified library. That's not to say it wasn’t interesting. There were some great exhibits on the history of manga, how manga works in modern japan. Not only that but as the building was a converted primary school there were many interesting displays about primary education in Japan and the buildings former life.

The main event was the manga though. Over 200000 volumes are collected here so far and their aim is to have a copy of every manga ever published. The corridors were lined with people of all ages reading away. In fact there was very little free space everywhere it was truly incredible. A personal highlight was the manga history hall where the shelves were arranged in chronological order. It was quite nice to  see the way the art style has developed through out the years.

I hunted out an issue of Lupin the III, a personal favorite, and tried to give it a read. The Kanji was completely beyond me sadly so I gave up and instead read the English version. I love the Lupin stories, they definitely reflect the global trend for crime capers in the late 70’s and they are always good fun. Before I knew it, it was after 6pm and time to head back to Osaka.

I put the books back said a farewell I kinda wish I lived in Kyoto just so I would have regular access to this place. Ah well I’ll just have to make th odd otaku pilgrimage every now and then.

By the time I got back to J-hoppers I was knackered and so, rather selfishly, asked my parents if they would mind meeting me there in Fukishima (no not the site of the nuclear plant it’s actually quite a common district name). They didn’t mind though so I asked around to see if I could find somewhere good to eat.

Ranna at the J-hoppers main desk recommended a place very nearby that apparently did excellent Japanese food. Sadly when we got there they had actually run out of food, guess it was really good if it was that popular. We wandered the streets for a few more minutes till I spied somewhere that looked good.

I felt it was time to introduce the parents to “Shabu Shabu”. This involves having a big pot of dashi set in the middle of the table on a small gas heater. Into it you chuck all manner of vegetables and thinly sliced meat, where they quickly cook, then dip them in a “tare” (sauce) before consuming.

It was a fun little place and the waitress was very boistress and typically Osakan, giving a heart “Okiini” (Thanks) to customers as they left. If I had one fault about the place it was that the only music playing the whole time was  the Beatles. Doesn’t matter how many miles you travel you just can’t get away from them ey.

Mata ne.