Uh Snow Part 2

In Part 1 of our winters adventure I left both you and I at the ski slopes pondering.

A place to ponder...

I'd also detailed the other part of my dream chasing shenanigans. To visit an outdoor onsen in the snow - ideally with snowing falling. So, after convincing Julia that nothing could be worse than the toils she faced on the slopes, she agreed to join me. As you would expect she had the normal reservations around sharing a public bathhouse. That is to share a bath, in a foreign country, with complete strangers, completely nude.

However, bags packed and under good authority from a local, we headed off out of town to the 'best' outdoor onsen in the region. Our trip involved multiple buses, and narrow, windy roads completely covered white with snow. The road wasn't the only thing that was white as my knuckles turned white while I held on as we headed up the treacherous white mountain roads. If you're having trouble coming to grips, pun intended, with my excessive use of the word 'white' then don't read this: our bus was also full of white haired elderly Japanese men and woman all eager onsen goers themselves. They seemed to be as excited about the onsen as they were about the presence of us; two, young, foreigners, one of whom spoke Japanese. 

Note the height of the snow compared to the bus stop. It was so cold waiting for the bus we literally walked in circles for 20 minutes just to stay warm.

For our toils and at their insistence they gave us some sweets and chaperoned us for the remainder of the journey until we all arrived at the onsen. Alighting the bus, the snow was falling heavily and the distraction of the frightening but hilarious journey vanished as I realised that if we could get inside in time, while it was still snowing, my dream might just come true.

After a windy and scary bus ride we made it!

After one failed attempt upon realising we'd forgotten towels, we bid each other farewell and I wished Julia good luck. I raced in, washed myself thoroughly as is customary and made my way to the snow covered bathing area. Stark naked, I can attest that walking outside in the snow with temperatures well below minus 10 literally hurts you all over. In sensitive areas you never imagined would see such harsh conditions. I must have looked like Golum from Lord Of The Rings as I scampered around the edge of the rocks until I entered. 

Either the door to freezing cold or to steaming hot

The sheer pain of the bitter cold only sped me along as I experienced the inevitable, truly superlative feeling of submerging yourself into the natural and piping hot waters of the baths. I sat there and for the second time in a week simply felt like I was living the dream. With the snow falling around me, and on me too, my wet hair literally started to freeze which was ironically analogous to the awesome memories which I knew would be frozen into my mind and ones I'll never forget. But beyond the scope of my poor literary exploits, all I can say is put a winter onsen experience on the top of your list. 

One of the most superlative experiences of my life.

After a successful week at the snow fields Julia and I headed to Sapporo for the world famous snow festival. Many of you will know 'Sapporo' simply as an excellent Japanese beer.  But the snow festival has arguably the same level of acclaim as their popular beer. The snow festival was another (thanks again Julia) event that I'd been keen to see ever since my exchange in Japan. I also knew that Julia would love it too and was keen for her to experience the hype of a Japanese festival. 

Julia rugged up and looking like a Polish Grandma.

Isn't she beautiful! 

My jeans are now ass-less. At least the next person had some denim to sit on.

Bizarly none of the cars had chains. 

The simply stunning Sapporo Beer Factory.

Upon entering the 'ice bar,' Julia asks, genuinely, whether it will be warm inside. No Julia, it'll be freezing cold. Literally.

Sculptors from all over the world converge on the city to build ice and snow sculptures well over 10 metres high. The city itself is picturesque with a park that runs down the middle of the city. The park and it's excellent location provide an stunning back drop for the festival. Walking the length of the park at both day and night, marvelling  at the extreme skill of the artists it really was an awe inspiring event. One which pictures will do more justice than my words. 

This shot was taken at roughly 8:21. 

Over 15m high. Wow!

The ice festival is held along the picturesque park that runs through the middle of the city.

If the ice sculptures weren't enough proof then there, it was bloody bloody freezing!

Conveniently Sapporo is renowned for its miso ramen or Japanese noodle soup with a miso base. To negate the cruel wintery conditions we warmed ourselves aplenty with numerous helpings of the delicious soup. 

A whole street filled with ramen shops. A great anti-dote to the cold.

The most satisfying ramen I've ever had.

Sapporo, and broadly Hokkaido, is quite highly regarded throughout Japan as a gastronomic destination. Specifically their seafood is sublime and amongst the best in all of Japan. Geographically Hokkaido is surrounded by seas which are much less pillaged than in other areas, improving the quality of the seafood which is caught.  

With that in mind Julia and I headed off to their seafood market and bravely ordered a sushi platter for breakfast. We'd stumbled upon a 'nook and cranny' type sushi restaurant where there was only seating for 3 customers. Conveniently Julia had read about the restaurant somewhere but initially had no intention to go. As we'd merely stumbled upon it, we couldn't pass up the opportunity to try some of their famed seafood in such a unique setting. 

As you can imagine with only 3 customers and the chef standing directly in front of you preparing your food, banter was as plentiful as the large portions of glistening, perfectly prepared sushi. The kick of freshly grated wasabi root was as welcoming as the piping hot green tea we were offered too. We left, budget intact, having consumed some of the freshest most delectably simple yet mouth watering sushi we will ever have the chance to eat. Japan had done it again.

This sushi restaurant only serves 3 customers at a time!

Chef preparing the sushi directly in front of you.

What's that Julia, your feet are getting cold? Here, try these feet warmers.

Why thank you Jay.

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!