Back to Kyoto Whether I Want To Or Not

It was back to Kyoto for the second time in one week on Friday 26th, but this time it was minus the sightseeing and general fun with only myself to guide myself. Jen came with and drove to Miyazu from Ine (about 45 mins away) in time for the 6.55am train. It took just over two hours with one transfer in Fukuchiyama and with an hour to spare we made our way to the poky little, slightly seedy coffee shop we went to on Monday. The old lady who owned the place, who wore enough make-up to cover four girls a third of her age, remembered us and remembered the iced cocoa and cinnamon toast I had last time so I barely had to say anything before she disappeared through the cigarette smoke-filled archway into the kitchen, to emerge again several minutes later with sweat and make-up dripping off her face in a reverse Stars In Their Eyes transformation, carrying toast. We moved on to the orientation that was at the Prefectural Offices and while the seminar on Kansai Dialect was very interesting, the rest of it was boring and I fell asleep during the admin seminar. The only other interesting thing was a guy who from now on I am going to refer to as Pornstar-moustache Guy. This guy was a quintessential hick from the back blocks of America, and looked like he had just come out of Reno 911. At first I thought his mo was fake so as a joke I said “looking good!” On closer inspection I found it was indeed attached naturally and now he thinks I was hitting on him.

Several hours after the orientation we all met up for yakiniku in Sanjo at a place called Chijafa, which was awesome. We took the subway to Sanjo and followed the directions to get to Chijafa after we were assured “you can't miss it”. Indeed that was true. One could not miss the massive red signs and after we waited for the elevator to take us up (while watching the tv screen that displayed what was going on in the elevator at that time, a guy adjusting himself), we loaded in and got off at the eighth floor to file into a long black glass corridor dimly lit by red neon lights and looking terribly R18. We had arrived late so everything was in full swing when we arrived. Pornstar-moustache Guy was unfortunately already drunk by this stage, and thanks to the alcohol's influence, was overly excited to see his mistakenly not-so-secret admirer. It was a dizzying experience in the red-lit, BBQ smoke-filled, extremely loud private room at Chijafa, but the unlimited food was great and the free-flowing alcohol was enough to make this whole long trip worthwhile.

Korean BBQ or "cook it your freakin self."

Chijafa gets the Kansas thumbs up from Jen.

We took the 9.30pm train back to Miyazu and got back near midnight only to find that Jen needed petrol to get back to Ine and all the petrol stations in Miyazu had closed at 8pm. Keita luckily knew of a 24hr self-service station in some back block so I got Jen to drive to his 24hr fishing shop (yes, there are people who come to get fishing supplies at 3am) and ask him to draw a map. I knew all of the words and kanji for the touch screen at the pump, luckily, then we headed back to Miyazu watching the wildlife come out of their homes for the night including a stag and a turtle (who we nearly ran over).

The next day (Saturday 27th), Jen came back to Miyazu in the early afternoon to pick up Maggie and I for our trip to the in(famous) Ine for their fireworks night. Ine has a reputation of not being able to hold on to JETs for more than a year. It is one of the most beautiful places in Japan but it's also one of the most isolated rural areas in Japan. It is particularly difficult for Jen as she doesn't speak a lot of Japanese and nobody in her BoE speaks English. She only heard about the fireworks as a passing comment from one of her neighbours so she wasn't expecting too big a deal in such a small town. As we drove into Ine the bumper-to-bumper traffic opposed our minds eye of the scale of this event. Ine is a tiny fishing town famous for the funaya houses built over the water, along the bay that houses boats underneath while the family houses were upstairs. The sheltered bay prevents any waves from being blown into the houses so there are hundreds of these houses lining the entire bay.

Funaya in Ine. Ii~ ne.

The beauty of Ine marred by a big head.

Food stalls selling the local fare from local eateries were set up on one side of the bay while people flocked around the concreted thoroughfare or sat at the base of their funaya fishing.

People partying at their funaya.

Jen eats a bunyon cut off some old man's foot.

I shouldn't have asked to try some kakigouri.

Waiting for the big event.

The Ine fireworks were shorter than Miyazu's and unfortunately (or fortunately) lacked the hilarity of the advertising heavy metal guitar breaking peace and quiet, but hilarity did take the form of the traffic wardens who waved light sticks that resembled light sabres. Every time I passed one of them I had the overwhelming urge to go “whooom, whooom!” and whooom whooom I did, to the great annoyance of the traffic warden.

"Hey. Check it out, I've got two."
"Shut up."

That night we stayed at Jen's big, fancy, old people friendly house (it has call-out buttons in the toilet and bath in case you get stuck) and had a second dinner of yakisoba while watching the “Dear Reader” Harry Potter narration series on YouTube. Hilarity ensued one again. Then it was off to bed with the warning that the monkeys that come down from the mountains have been pretty active over the last couple of nights, and have been scratching on her screen door wanting in. We never did hear the monkeys and also appearances of the dreaded mukade (massive poisonous centipede) and gejigeji (hairy, fast, jumping millipede) were non-existent so it was an unusually safe night in the country for us.

The next day (Sunday 28th) we drove back to Miyazu early to join the NZ Association and some others who were interested in international relations for a touristy day around the Tango area in a touristy bus. Masako and Keita were the only others I knew but we met the other gaijin who live in Miyazu – Holly from Canada and Javier from Mexico, a couple who teach English at the local private English school. They weren't terribly exciting so I never really talked to them, but I did make friends with a mother who is a teacher aide at one of my schools, Kunda Primary, and her two children one, Waka, I will teach. Her English was very good.

First on the list of touristy stuff was soba making at at the old Tsutsuda elementary school. This school is one of many I passed that have been decommissioned and are used as community halls despite their obvious neglect. Here we used the gym (which had pealing wallpaper and extensive water damage) and set up tarpaulins on the floor with six wooden boards on top to use as work benches for the six groups we were split in to. My group had the mother and her two kids, a grumpy old lady who had done it many times before on these cultural trips and was acting like a bossy know-it-all, an old woman who was going to New Zealand with the NZ Society in November of whom I was told to teach English but she had no interest, and a overly shy teenage boy. We were given buckwheat flour and water and shown how to mix, knead and roll it, then finally cut it, which all took about 30 mins.

Keep on rollin, baby!

The pro shows us how it's done, after kicking me off.

After all the groups cut theirs up it was all sent to the kitchen where it was boiled and served with fish stock and spring onions for lunch. It was so good I went back for seconds and thirds, as the portions were Japanese sized.

"My onigiri! Mine!"

After that we headed to the bay for a boat ride to feed the seagulls shrimp chips. I can't think of a more less-deserving breed of bird to feed these chips to. I'm sure boxes of these things could be shipped to African countries to serve a better purpose, but luckily the bigger tombi hawks came into the picture and fought the seagulls for them. At first when the bags of chips were handed out I thought they were for us so Maggie turned the offer down and I set about to open them and eat my fill. I had no idea why people around me were saying “tabechatta, tabechatta” (you are [regretfully] eating them), as I had no qualms about eating the chips, they were good. Then I realised when people started chucking them out of the boat, it was not people food. I had the overwhelming urge to say “sutechatta, sutechatta” (you are [regretfully] wasting them).

Birdemic!

Funaya again, with fishing nets.

Finally, we jumped back on the bus and headed to the last port of call, an old, traditional sake brewery. Here we were told of the history of the brewery and of the brewing process, all in Japanese so I couldn't really understand much of it. Here we had tasters then were ushered into an ancient-looking upstairs room with many round tables dotted around it for afternoon tea. Here we were served the yummiest cakes I have had since Berry Cafe in Kyoto, with lashings of sake, Timmy. In fact I was lashed so hard with the sake I had trouble getting about unaided. It was the host's fault – he kept refilling my cup. Jen on the other hand couldn't drink a drop. The law here in Japan is zero tolerance for drink drivers, and even drinking one little drop is enough to have your licence suspended or be deported if you are a gaijin. But thankfully some nice person in the group bought Jen a whole bottle to drink when she got home. And then it was happy home time. I was a little happier than the rest.

Sake! Cake! Sake and cake! What more could you want?
Maggie agrees.

So that has been the haps for those three days. This blog post was brought to you by Maggie's food facials. Monday brings trips to some of my schools to meet the teachers, then I begin school on Thursday. My lazy days at the BoE will be short-lived.