Hiroshima, Part 2

It's no secret that Jay and I get incredibly excited about food. Especially when we're travelling. Whether it's pizzas in Napoli, or momos in Kathmandu, we love sinking our teeth into the specialties of different cities. So when Jay's sister and brother-in-law, Erin and Rob, mentioned that we HAVE to try the okonomiyaki in Hiroshima, we were very happy to oblige.

Trying some of the local sweets, which are filled with various flavours such as chocolate, custard and red bean.

Prior to visiting Hiroshima, we knew okonomiyaki as Japanese savoury pancakes. We'd eaten them with various ingredients such as cabbage, spring onions and dried seaweed mixed into a batter, cooked, and topped with delicious sauces. As you can imagine, they're positively delicious so we were excited to try the ones in Hiroshima.  

Jay and I heard about a five storeyed building in Hiroshima with hundreds of stalls solely dedicated to this Japanese culinary delight - an okonomiyaki Mecca if you will - so we headed straight for there at our first opportunity.

At this building, each floor is made up of a number of square-shaped stalls, with a U-shaped bench around its perimeter where the customers sit (refer to image below). This bench also doubles up as a giant hotplate that the okonomiyaki are cooked on. As it was late in the afternoon when we arrived, most of the stalls had shut. However, the one in the back corner was still open, so we joined a few of the locals who were already there. The owner/chef was an older man, and to our delight we found out that he had been making okonomiyaki for 50 years. We figured we were in safe hands.

The layout of our okonomiyaki restaurant

Having had okonomiyaki previously, we were confident that it would be a quick and easy meal to prepare, which suited us just fine because we were very hungry by this stage. The owner's ample experience only added to our confidence that we would be in and out of there quickly. However it was clear that the chef had other ideas about the running of his restaurant when forty minutes in we were still no closer to eating our okonomiyaki. Instead, the chef was unnervingly unhurried in preparing our food, answering constant phone calls and fetching drinks for the other customers in between.

The long wait wasn't our only surprise. As the chef was preparing our okonomiyaki, it became clear that we wouldn't be served the batter-filled pancakes we'd previously been accustomed to. Instead, these ones had the ingredients piled on top of each other, with only a small amount of batter keeping it all together. We started to panic – we'd come all this way to try okonomiyaki in Hiroshima, and we'd visited a restaurant offering their own wacky version of it. We were failures.

Our very experienced chef

These were all for us (they weren't)

Almost an hour later, our okonomiyaki were finally ready to be eaten. Despite not being what we thought we'd be eating, the wait was worth it as they turned out to be bloody delicious. Eating them straight off the hotplate only added to the enjoyment of the whole experience. 

An Hiroshima style okonomiyaki. 

To our great pleasure and relief, we did find out that the style of okonomiyaki served to us was actually the signature style of Hiroshima (the other type are known as Osaka style ones), so we weren't failures after all. In fact, it turns out they were hands down, the best okonomiyaki we had our entire trip. High-five!

We also visited Miyajima, a mountainous island off the coast of Hiroshima. Miyajima has a torii gate that rather spectaularly looks like it's floating on water at high tide.

The Torii of Miyajima at Itsukishima Shrine

Itsukishima Shrine

Hi deer. Deers are everywhere in Miyajima.

Another activity recommended to us by Erin and Rob (thanks guys!!), was the hike up Mount Misen, the tallest mountain in Miyajima. We were  keen to give our bodies a bit of a work out after all of the food we'd been eating, so we made our way up one of the trails. 

One thing we've found in Japan is that the signs will often lead you 90% towards your intended destination. You generally need to work out the last 10% for yourself. This is quite ironic for a country that is so highly organised, particularly as this final 10% can be surprisingly difficult to work out, causing us to become lost a number of times. Hence on this occasion, we accidentally found ourselves at a beautifully tranquil Buddhist temple; complete with incense, chanting and rugged-up Buddha statues.

Re-orienting ourselves, we got back on track, and recommenced our climb upwards. As expected, it was a steep, and at times quite tiring, walk. Actually, it was very tiring - we were huffing and puffing and giving our bodies a proper, sweat inducing workout.

Back on track

Eventually we reached a rest area near the top of the summit, feeling thoroughly exhausted. However, it just so happened that another couple were taking a breather in the same area too - a Japanese husband and wife who were well into their seventies, if not eighties. The couple had just climbed the same arduous trail that we had, yet were a good half a century older than us. Surprisingly, they looked more refreshed than we did. After chatting to them briefly and asking for their advice on longevity, Jay translated that the couple lived on a simple but healthy Japanese diet and exercised regularly. That was it. They were  living proof that a healthy and wholesome lifestyle, such as their Japanese one, pays off. If there was ever motivation for adopting such a lifestyle they were it. So, after bidding this friendly couple sayonara, Jay and I conquered the last leg of our climb, completely inspired by the couple we'd just met.

We made it!

The not-too-shabby view from the top, with Hiroshima on the right handside

Spot the deer

Deciding that we'd worked hard enough on the way up, we opted for the less arduous way down via the cable lift. Needless to say it came with its own challenges: I was terrified during the ride.

Finally, I'll finish off by celebrating the absolute brilliance of modern Japanese toilets. Because they've truly been a source of enjoyment for me on this trip, and are quite simply the most superior, ichiban toilets I've ever used in my entire life. And to me, that's quite the achievement. So, without further ado, here is why Japanese toilets are incredible works of engineering to be marvelled at:

1. You can push a button that plays music when you're using the toilet. Perfect for those not wanting their business to be heard by others.
2. The bidet. It's surprisingly pleasant (warm water) and convenient (decreases wiping time). 
3. Warm toilet seats. Incredible. Especially during wintertime. It's one of those things that you don't realise you've been missing out on until you've experienced it. But once you do, you don't know how you'll cope without it ever again.

These points may not seem all that impressive in isolation, but they've honestly made a world of difference for me throughout this trip. Thus, I'm seriously considering having a Japanese toilet installed into our home if our landlord permits it.

Another sight to be marvelled - the stunning Hiroshima Castle

Uh Snow Part 1

I've previously rhapsodised about my love of the mountains, so I'll spare you the hyperbole in this next blog. But when it comes to the beauty of Mother Nature, what I love equally as much as the mountains is the snow. Even for those naysayers, I'm sure you'd agree that the sheer effortless beauty of falling snow is difficult to deny.

Ah the serenity!

So as far as dream chasing goes, I'd convinced Julia to join me and head to the coldest place in Japan: the Northern Island of Hokkaido. As far as palmares goes, Hokkaido itself has hosted the Winter Olympics, is geographically quite close to Russia (incredibly just over 5 hours by ferry) and is famous the world over for it's superlative ski fields and conditions. 

All that white stuff is snow.

What all of that previous hyperbole (I thought I'd spared you sorry) also means is that it is absolutely fucking freezing cold. I'm talking 30 degrees below zero freezing. Fortunately for us, accordingly to the locals we arrived during some relative reprieve and the temperature only reached a low of minus 27 degrees Celsius.

'OMG MINUS 27 DEGREES'

Ever since my experience as an exchange student in Japan some 10 years prior I'd dreamt of experiencing a true winter wonderland. Specifically I'd dreamt of skiing but mostly and most excitedly I dreamt of bathing in an outdoor onsen or rotenburo in the snow with the snow falling around me. I know that's a pretty specific dream but truly, I'd dreamt of it many times over. So with a girlfriend in toe I'd returned to chase some dreams. A special thanks and shout out to said girlfriend for her dream believing.

Flying into Sapporo the ground was blanketed white with snow. The mountains had their peaks smothered in the white stuff too and when the pilot announced that the temperature on the ground was a mild  minus seven degrees below zero I knew our wintry journey was just about to begin. After some 2 hours of train travel further and further higher and higher into the cold cold middle of the island we arrived at a skiing village named Furano. Furano is famous for its sheer amount of dry powder that it receives. Stepping foot in the town, the cold was just that - bitterly cold. Any surface of skin that wasn't protected was involuntarily punished for my own stupidity and naivety. We'd just come from an unprecedented heatwave in Melbourne where the mercury had consistently gone above 40 degrees for over three days straight. So needless, to say that to our un-acclimatized bodies the aforementioned conditions were literally a shock to our systems.

'WHAT A SHOCK TO OUR SYSTEMS'

Regardless, we braved the harsh conditions and went about procuring all the necessary gear to begin part one of the dream. Fortunately we'd packed a good amount of winter gear and with the exception of our gloves which simply weren't designed to cope with minus 27 degree conditions, we had enough stuff to keep 90 percent of our bodies warm.

I'll be the first to admit that I haven't done a great deal of downhill skiing, the last time being some 3 years ago and would definitely be described as a 'beginner'. However, I should clarify that I've done many years of cross country skiing which is arguably more difficult from a control and balance point of view - especially considering the often narrow tracks which we use versus the generous wide runs which you are afforded with downhill skiing. So with those points in mind, somewhat concerningly I was tasked with giving Julia an impromtu downhill skiing lesson. Herself having skied a couple of times, it proved to be productive for both of us as we used a small knoll to familiarise ourselves with the infamous snow plough and some basic turning.

Smiles can be deceiving!

Julia, feeling a little overwhelmed at the conditions and the prospect of some fairly steep looking 'beginner' and 'junior' runs, decided to take a breather and head off to the adjacent cafe. My bravado (and sheer excitedness to be fair) got the better of me and I found myself at the top of the longest, steepest run I'd ever laid eyes on. Feeling composed and reminding myself that cross country skiing is much more difficult, I let gravity take hold and hurtled down the mountain. Initially exhilarated, very quickly I realised I was completely out of control and I had to apply the self-destruct-fall-over-voluntarily button to simply stop and regain control. Conveniently the top layer of powder dampened my fall but did little for my ego and by the time I made it to Julia in the warm cafe, I had to try very hard to put on a brave face and convince her that I thoroughly enjoyed my first hit out. Worst still, I had to try and convince her that despite her nerves, she should join me and would have no problems with the runs on offer.

The slopes were very close to our hostel. 

After our first day of mixed success, Julia and I regrouped; deciding that it would be best for her to get a lesson - alone, and for me to explore - alone. Still very motivated despite my first days' setbacks, I awoke early. With Julia still in a slumber, I left determined to be the first person on the lifts and subsequently the slopes. It turns out another keen-o beat me by a matter of metres, but being second wasn't so bad. It meant that there would be a fresh coating of white gold (powder) on top for me to plunder.

Riding the lift up the mountain, the incredibly cold conditions surprisingly seemed to matter little as the breathtaking scene around me unfolded. Behind me was a snow capped mountain range peering ominously over my shoulder. To my front was the summit of a Mountain poking it's head out between the snow laden treas surrounding us both; branches sagging under the weight of last nights snow fall. To add to the unfolding scene around me, there was a sharp breeze that blew only the very top layer of snow into the air and in turn created a mist of snow which wound its way between the trees, further enhancing the mystical environment.

Beautiful in 2-D. Terrifying in 3-D.

I sat there still oblivious to the cold, and knew exactly what it felt like to be living the dream. To feel so very fortunate for the situation that I'd found myself in. By an arbitrary genetic lottery, I was born in a western nation; afforded opportunity in nearly endless supply. And sitting there in the moment I couldn't help but feel that not everybody in our vast world begins life with such privilege and opportunity. Just as arbitrarily I could have been born in Syria, a country currently in the throngs of a blood filled civil war. But here I was, a holiday philosopher on a ski slope in Japan. In summary it was a combination of some of the most bitter sweet and humbling emotions I'd ever felt in such quick succession. And just like that, the skiing seemed wildly irrelevant not to mention extravagant.

With all of that to ponder, I zigzagged my way down the mountain. Both heart and mind racing faster than the beginner slopes would allow me to ski. Safely, I reached the bottom, unsure if I felt exhilarated or exhausted. For good measure, I made my way back over to the lift and couldn't help but head up one more time. Life was great. And I was lucky.     

What doesn't break us makes us stronger. Totes BFF!

Hiroshima, Part 1

Imagine a warm, clear, beautiful summer's morning. You may be ready to start an ordinary day's work. Or waiting for school to begin with the rest of your classmates. Or simply at home with your family. The date is the 6th of August 1945 and you live in Hiroshima. It gets to 8.15am. And everything changes forever as history's first atomic bomb is dropped on your city. 

A recovered watch from the time the A-bomb struck Hiroshima at 8.15am.

From where you're positioned, you see an immense, bright, yellow light as the bomb goes off. Its intensity is so strong that even shadows disappear. Although you have ducked for cover, you are still pounded by the explosively powerful force of the bomb, as well as its extreme, charring heat. You don't realise this at the time, but this heat has melted your skin. Later, one survivor will describe this moment as 'like being roasted alive many times over'*. If that isn't enough, an all-encompassing sound, louder than anything you've heard before, blasts through your ears and engulfs the city as the buildings come crashing down. All of this happens within a matter of seconds. And then chaos erupts as the realisation of what has happened hits those who are still conscious, with life resuming, never to be the same again.**

Drawing by Horikoshi Susumu, 6 years old in August 1945.
Image from http://ocw.mit.edu/ans7870/21f/21f.027/groundzero1945/gz_essay02.html 

Making my way through the Peace Memorial Museum in Hiroshima, it's difficult to imagine the horrors that Hiroshima's people were confronted with in the bomb's aftermath. Photographs lining the walls of the museum help to tell the story of the heartbreaking devastation caused to these innocent victims: civilians with charred, blackened skin; others with hair burnt off; and some with severely disfigured bodies. It's difficult not to look away from these confronting images, and despite being a keen history enthusiast, I guiltily do so a couple of times as the pain and torment evoked from the pictures is too much to take in at once.

Drawing by Matsumura Kazuo , 32 years old in August 1945. Image from http://ocw.mit.edu/ans7870/21f/21f.027/groundzero1945/gz_essay04.html

Hiroshima was the first choice out of three other Japanese cities for the atomic bomb to be dropped on (Nagasaki was bombed three days later). Hiroshima was chosen as it had been relatively untouched during the war. With this being the first ever use of a nuclear weapon during wartime, it was important to record the magnitude of damage caused by the bomb as accurately as possible, making this untouched city a prime target. Tragically, it was innocent civilians who were the targets of this attack; an attack which brought the Pacific War to its end. The total number of victims has been difficult to determine, but it's estimated that 70,000 people were killed instantly, and another 70,000 people died within five years of the bomb due to radiation. Not to mention the thousands of other victims who died from diseases relating to radiation years later. One such victim was Sadako Sasaki, who lived in Hiroshima and was two years old when the bomb struck. She died of leukemia in 1955, and has since become a symbol of innocent victims of war.

A memorial for Sadako was unveiled in the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park in 1958. She is holding a golden crane. When Sadako learnt of her illness, she made a goal of folding 1000 paper cranes, based on the ancient Japanese story which grants a wish to anyone who completes this task. 

Later, as I'm walking around Hiroshima, I still feel stunned by the fact that merely sixty eight years earlier this city was completely obliterated. None of the high rise buildings around me existed. The beautifully expansive park I was walking through earlier was unrecognizable and reduced to ash. In fact, it was thought that no plants would grow in Hiroshima for at least 75 years following the a-bomb. But the trees and plants lining the streets and pathways of the city prove otherwise. 

Past and present: Genbaku Dome in the foreground with Hiroshima's cityscape behind

Nevertheless, reminders of this harrowing event are still dispersed throughout the city. Nothing acts as more of a haunting reminder than the looming skeleton of the infamous Genbaku (A-Bomb) Dome. This dome, which was formerly the Hiroshima Prefectural Commercial Exhibition Hall, was the only structure left standing in the vicinity of where the bomb was dropped. Cruelly, despite the building's survival, everyone inside it was killed at the time.

The remains of Genbaku Dome today

But thanks to the optimistic spirit and sheer resilience of its people, Hiroshima has been rebuilt into the bustling and vibrant metropolis that it is today. Within this bustle and vibrancy is also a city that has not forgotten its heartbreaking past, promoting 'Peace' to the rest of the world. From commemorative monuments like The Gates of Peace which state 'Peace' on them in 49 different languages; to the establishment of the Mayors for Peace organisation which urges world leaders to abolish the use of nuclear weapons, Hiroshima is clearly a city that has dedicated itself to living and promoting a legacy of peace. As such, it was a wonderful city to visit and spend a few days in - we'll have more stories from there for you soon.

A passing security officer pays his respects to the victims of the atomic bomb at The Memorial Cenotaph, which holds the names of all of the known people killed by the bomb.

The inscription from another monument reads, 'Mourning the lives lost in the atomic bombings, we pledge to convey the truth of this tragedy throughout Japan and the world pass it on to the future, learn the lessons of history, and build a peaceful world free from nuclear weapons.'

* taken from the testimony of Takehiko Sakai, http://www.atomicarchive.com/Docs/Hibakusha/Takehiko.shtml
** inspired by testimonies taken from the following websites:  http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com/hiroshima.htm; http://www.atomicarchive.com/Docs/Hibakusha/

Oooh, ahh, Osaka

We took a day trip to Osaka.

Jay was especially excited because it meant that we'd be travelling on the Shinkansen (bullet train). He was almost as excited as when he bought donuts from his all-time favourite Japanese donut chain, Mister Donuts, but not quite.

Reunited with Mister Donuts after a 10 year hiatus - get in my belly!

The Shinkansen, which can travel up to 320 km/hr, got us from Kyoto to Osaka in....wait for it....15 minutes. That's a distance of 47km. Or roughly from Melbourne to Avalon airport. I won't bother working out the math of that, but suffice to say that's mighty impressive. Especially since earlier that day it had taken us 45 minutes to travel 7 km from our accommodation to Kyoto train station*.

Faster than a speeding bullet....it's the Shinkansen...whoosh

Osaka itself was a buzzing metropolis of a city. Jay had loosely described it as Melbourne-esque in character - trendy and quirky with a bit of an edge. And to some extent it was. Only to me it was less laid back and chilled and more like a hyperactive teenager; loud and eccentric, but only because it's excited about life and is ready to test its limits. There was all sorts of yelling urging people to eat at various restaurants; Osakians, young and old, were wearing the most bizarre combinations of outfits; and giant billboards with novelty sized objects surrounded us. You really felt like your senses were being bombarded. Or perhaps it all seemed more chaotic than what it actually was compared to the relative order and serenity we'd experienced in Kyoto. Regardless, we threw ourselves into the excitement of Osaka, and headed straight for Dotonbori, one of the city's main food strips.

The acclaimed food strip that is Dotonbori.

One of Osaka's claims to fame are tako-yaki, balls of batter filled most commonly with seafood. Being an Osakan specialty, we had to try them.

Tako-yaki in the making

In order for you to gauge how they tasted, I'll provide you with the following description. Imagine a golden-brown, delectable looking ball. It's so delectable looking that you decide to put the whole thing into your mouth in one go. Excited to taste it, you bite into the ball vehemently, forgetting that it's actually steaming hot. A gush of scorching, liquid, fishy-tasting goodness/wickedness explodes into your mouth, burning the inside of your oral cavity in the process. You practice more caution with subsequent bites, which are pretty much a repeat of the previous sensations, only there's less mouth-scalding involved. If that all sounds appetising to you, then you'll be in for a treat with tako-yaki. If not, then perhaps you should skip the experience**.

Me, prior to trying tako-yaki. Unfortunately I wasn't so smiley after tasting them.

But Osaka wasn't all about loud noises and outrageous food. There were more tranquil areas we visited too, including the Sumiyoshi Taisha shrine and Osaka Castle. The significance of this shrine was that its architectural style preceded the influence of Chinese Buddhist styles seen in other parts of the country. The shrine also dates back to the 3rd century. 

The picturesque bridge leading up to the shrine

An example of 3rd century architecture

Osaka Castle in particular was breathtaking. With its surrounding moat, luminescent white colour and gold trimmings, it glowed with extravagance against the wintry grey setting. I felt like I'd stepped onto the set of a fairytale.

Isn't she beautiful?

We finished our day by having dinner with Jay's former host dad, otosan (father). Otosan, wanting to treat us on this special occasion, took us to a restaurant and ordered very generously, including a large assortment of sashimi***. In Japan, sashimi is not a thin piece of fish served on top of a portion of rice. Instead, it is expertly cut slices of raw fish, taken from the best parts of the fish, served to you on a plate, without the rice. The pieces are so delicate that they almost melt in your mouth.

It was a terrific night of catching up on the past ten years and enjoying some great food and drink together. It was really lovely meeting otosan too as I'd heard lots about him and his family from stories Jay told me previously. A fantastic end to our day in Osaka!

Otosan and us at the restaurant

* We now have a bit of a running joke every time something takes a lot longer than expected to happen (i.e. when we are lost and can't find a train station/shop/restaurant). We now say 'We could've been in Osaka by now.' It's quite funny.

** I should reiterate that the tako-yaki we tried were fish ones. Meat ones could be better.

*** Although strict vegetarians at home, in Japan we've been eating fish - it's a surprisingly difficult country to be strictly vegetarian in

Kyoto - The Other Bits

Arashiyama - a bamboo lined path which has to be seen to be believed. 

Returning to Japan after a 10 year hiatus, I've been, at times, overwhelmed with sheer nostalgia. I'll be the first to admit that the overwhelming feeling that I just attributed to nostalgia is as much due to having to navigate complicated cities, and having to translate for an English speaking girlfriend in a language I've not used in over 10 years.

Fushimi inari shrine - a torii lined path up a mountain. A highlight so far. 

Nevertheless, sharing a place which I hold so dear to me, with a person whom I hold even more so dear to me has been wonderfully refreshing to say the least. Though famed for its peerless concentration of significant cultural monuments, to focus solely on this fact would be doing Kyoto an injustice. Kyoto's rich history of Zen culture, countless gardens and temples (some of which date back to 780AD), and sheer number of UNESCO world heritage sites can leave you feeling bewildered when it comes to where to begin. For us, we focused on the important sites which somehow resonated with us. After which we sought some sort of cultural enlightenment through food. Personally I was also eager to revisit some of my sorely missed and favourite pastimes of Japan.

Kiyomizu-dera - expertly perched on a hill. This temple was founded in 778.

Ginkakuji - stunning gardens, a classic Japanese temple.

Ever since my cultural submersion in Japan as a 15 year old I've had a penchant for green tea. I'm one of those people, aside from drinking a daily dose of the verdant drop, that genuinely gets excited by green tea flavoured...anything. I'm pretty hardcore – I know. Anyhow, where was I? Green, I love it. So when I heard that about the oldest green tea shop in Kyoto, which itself been in existence for over 300 years, I politely requested that Julia join me in checking it out.

Ippodo tea shop - the source of much pain and happiness.

Walking in, the pungent green tea aroma was nearly too much for this maccha (green tea in Japanese) lover. After baulking at the prices, we happened upon their adjacent tea house. At the tea house, although no money exchanges hands, the ideas is that you can try an expertly prepared cup of whatever it is you think you have an inkling to buy. When I also heard that a traditional Japanese sweet accompanied said cup of tea, I was already warming our seats before Julia had a chance to decipher the sheer variety of offerings.

Confidently I ordered their strongest and finest drop. Julia as a relative maccha novice, sensibly ordered the weakest most reasonably priced maccha. Excitedly I waited, filling in the silence with stories of how much I love green tea and how much I drink on a weekly basis. Once I'd run out of things to say I left Julia, and made my way over to the kitchen area and observed and photographed the performance that was taking place.

Anko -  a Japanese sweet made of red beans. 

Maccha - beautiful in colour, not so in taste.

Houjicha - another variety of green tea where the leaves are roasted.

Finally our drinks arrived. Notice that I refrained from using the word tea. Before me was a thick, dark moss coloured concoction that I wasn't possibly supposed to drink. Upon swirling the cup in my hands the liquid; or solid, whatever it was, begrudgingly moved from one side of the cup to other, much like you'd imagine a sloth moving from one side of a room to another. Now my excitement and expectations where replaced with trepidation as I cautiously sipped my first mouthful. WOW, the flavour was worse than it's appearance. The strongest tasting, strangely sour green mud I'd ever consumed. In fact the only green mud I'd ever consumed. I should clarify, I've never consumed any mud. Of any variety.

Regardless, the experience was just that – an experience. Painful for my taste buds and it turns out unnecessarily painful for my bank account too. I should disclose that I did end up buying some tea, sheepishly buying one of their weakest varieties.

I won't leave you on that sour note, so to speak. In keeping with the culinary delights of Kyoto we visited one of the oldest restaurants in the city. Honke Owariya, a Japanese soba restaurant which has been in operation since 1465, over 549 years of tradition under one roof – truly incredible and quite mind boggling for two young 25 year old travellers whose own country was 'discovered' by Captain Cook in a paltry 1788. At that time, Honke Owariya had already been serving customers for a modest 323 years. Again, incredible.

Honke Owariya - in operation since before your grandparents were born.

Frequented by the imperial family during their sojourns to the ancient capital, we were very excited to be going to a restaurant of such esteem. While not quite haute in a gastronomic sense, in reputation and bragging rights alone it was up there. As with most dining experiences in Japan, we were greeted with a warm welcome both by the staff, and, being winter, the comfort of a well heated venue. We were ushered up a narrow and small stair case and couldn't help but imagine the huge amount of history that has passed up it over the centuries. We felt somewhat under dressed as we sat down next to a slurping table of business men. Regardless, we feasted our eyes on the menu and settled for the traditional cold soba, as well as another warm dish.

Soba, for those of you who haven’t tasted it before, is made from a type of a seed known as buckwheat. The name 'buckwheat' is deceptive as it's not a type of wheat at all. However, it's considered a very healthy and nutritious grain. I recommend anybody getting their hands on a pack next time they are at the supermarket. It cooks in a matter of minutes, can easily be substituted for pastas or used in stir fries, again is very nutritious but most importantly it's bloody delicious.

While we waited for our soba dishes we warmed our yet to be acclimatised winter bodies with plentiful amounts of tea. Soon enough our meals arrived and we were treated to a delectable and faultless array of soba goodness. Accompanying the cold soba dish was a helping of freshly grated wasabi root. Yes that's right wasabi doesn't just come in small plastic tube with green food colouring. The freshly grated root is somewhat less intense with a more refined but short lived flavour. The fresh wasabi, chopped shallots, soba sauce combined with the fault less noodles in an elegant and awe inspiring way. To top the meal off, you are bought the water in which the soba noodles were boiled. This is simply added to the soba sauces you have just used, resulting in a pleasant warm soup. For me, soba and its accompaniments are yet another reminder of the supreme Japanese skill at matching simple yet bold flavours to create distinctly unique dishes. After being blown away equally by our meals as much as the setting in which we sat, we parted with $20 for the both of us, leaving the restaurant far the richer in nearly every sense.  

Soba - the quintessential cold soba dish. 

This warm dish was perfect for our weary winter bodies.

Nanzenji - a path leading to a sub temple in the sprawling grounds.   

Kinkakuji - the famed and much revered 'Golden Temple.' Simply breathtaking.