RoundTheWorld

Writing from Home

Thursday, August 12, 2010

JaZ remarked that I needed to finish my blog with a “we’re home” entry, and I’m finally getting around to that. We arrived home without mishap or major delay on Saturday, July 31. Our direct trains from Shin-Yokohama to Tokyo’s Narita Airport, the flight from Narita to Los Angeles, and the drive home held no surprises.

You might think we were glad to get home. It’s a mixed bag. Neither of us was really ready for the trip to end – B actually volunteered that as we were getting settled for our flight, and it echos my feelings entirely.

The first four days at home, I did nothing. I did get up just in time on Sunday morning to say goodbye to niece Robyn, who after three long months in Ridgecrest headed back to her home and family. Niece Beth had left earlier in the week.

On the fifth day I bestirred myself. B, in the mean time, had ordered parts for and fixed our 20-year-old gas dryer.  Naturally there was laundry to do, and shopping to do, and cooking to do. So I did, and am. Even after this long time, I am still feeling the jet lag.

Meanwhile I have been enjoying the redecorating and the deep cleaning that Robyn and Beth have done for us. They did a marvelous job. Do you know, everything fits in the cupboards now and you can actually find things? I think they’re magicians.

So we’re planning the next few trips, which will be shorter in both duration and miles traveled. But I think I’ll start writing from home as well. It seems to energize me. So, in a few days, the default blog will switch to the new blog and I’ll have the opportunity to bore or perhaps to entertain you even when I am at home!

Yokohama Waterfront

Friday, July 30

I'm wondering -- I thought yesterday was Friday. I must be slipping! Today is our last day of sightseeing in Japan and the last day, really of our trip. We head home tomorrow.

This is a leisurely day. We arise to gray skies and a thick marine layer in the distance. Perhaps, like yesterday, this will keep the heat down. We meet A at Yamate Station at noon, and head out toward his favorite mom and pop restaurant. He hasn't been there in a while. And we don't find it. Presumably it closed and something took its place. We choose a restaurant on the same street somewhat at random. The food is good nonetheless, and quite inexpensive.

When we emerge after lunch, the cloud cover has lifted, and the air is hot and sticky. We hike the 15 minutes uphill to A's quarters in the Negishi residential area. He's an hour or more from the main base at Yokusuka. A signs us in at the front gate, and again at the quarters building. His room is spacious -- he's the only one in a 2-man room. And his monitor is bigger than his flat-screen TV. Goodness.

Now we will approximate his trek to work, across the city, but in pieces. We start back down the hill to the station. We get almost to the bottom of the steep hill when I realize I have left my camera. Back up the hill we go, complaining all the way, to collect it. At least we're getting some exercise, eh?

At the station we ride two stops on the line to Sakuragicho, where B and I strolled along the waterfront this morning before traveling to Yamate to meet A. We head straight for the Landmark Tower, and ride the amazing elevator to the observation platform on the 69th floor. The high-speed elevator reaches a top speed of 750 meters/minute. Be sure to clear your ears!

It's not too crowded at the top, so we are easily able to enjoy the views in four directions. This is the tallest building in Yokohama, and by city statute will remain so. It does make for a great view. We enjoy the salt water fish tanks on one side of the tower. In addition to brightly colored reef fish, one features small sharks and tiny, evil looking eels poking their heads from out the corals. Since we're not in any hurry, we sit in the bar enjoying the view and have a beer.

 We descend to the waterfront and walk out to the pier, where there is shade and a breeze. We sit idly on a bench, debating whether to take a harbor cruise. In the end we decide to ride the Sea Bass shuttle to Yokohama Station and ride the train one more stop to A's work place. The warehouse where he works is a good 15-minute walk from the train station in an industrial district. It's not exactly picturesque, but the whole district is well kept, like most things in Japan.

So now we have a picture of A going to work, as he must tomorrow. A 15-minute walk downhill to Yamate Station, a 12 minute ride to Higashi-Kanagawa Station, a 15-minute walk to the Yokohama Fleet Mail Center. Reverse that for the way home, except when the back gate is closed and he must ride one stop further to Negishi.

We board the train again for Kannai Station, and walk into the shopping street. We ride a rickety elevator to the fourth floor of a building on a side street and make a dinner reservation at a Yakiniku restaurant that A knows. Then we stroll, and I do a little last shopping. We cook our dinner (beef, chicken, ox, vegetables) over a charcoal fire in a firepot set on the middle of our table. An exhaust hood over the firepot evacuates any harmful fumes. It makes for a leisurely meal, very enjoyable.

We part from A at Kannai Station, and make our way back to Shin-Yokohama for the last time. We have our tickets for tomorrow -- a short ride to Tokyo and then the Narita Express to the airport. It doesn't seem quite real that we will be going home.

Today's pictures start here.

Rainy Yokohama

Thursday, July 29

We have these days in Yokohama to visit with son A, who is stationed here. We embarked in a light rain to do our tourist thing before meeting him at 1 p.m.  Our first stop is the Shinyokohama Raumen Museum, and, yes, it's what you think it is. This is a food amusement park; buy your ticket, get your bowl of ramen noodles (9 varieties from 9 different restaurants), and dine at a table surrounded by a reconstruction of Tokyo circa 1958. The museum was founded in 1994 by Yoji Iwaoka," pursuing his passion in life -- ramen", as the brochure informs us. The museum is closed this early in the day, but we peek through the grill anyway.

We ride the JR train to Yokohama Station, and stop by the tourist information office there. We learn about the little red bus that runs a loop through the tourist areas of Yokohama, 100 yen per ride, and where to catch it. So on to the platform 3 for the Negishi Line to Sakuragicho Station and bus stop #4 for the red bus. We are headed for the tin toy museum, clear at the other end of the line.

The ride is curious. At every stop, at every red light, every time the driver has to wait to make a right turn, he turns the engine off. We were told on our one bus tour that it is illegal to idle the buses with no one on board; but this seems extreme. Luckily the rain and clouds have kept the temperatures to reasonable limits today, or we would be cooked.

The red bus puffs up a steep hill to the top of Harbor View Park, where we alight. This section of the city, in the southeast, is where most of the foreigners lived, and still live. It's a short walk to the museum, called "Toy Club". The attendant speaks English pretty well, and is delighted to practice on us. This is one of  seven toy museums in Japan, all owned by the same gent. Not only does he collect toys, he collects old American cars. A vintage 50's t-bird and a racy, red Ford Cobra sit in an open garage by the museum.

The toy collection is fabulous, filling shelf after shelf in case after case. There must be more than 20 Popeyes, a lot of Mickey Mouse, trains, buses, fire trucks, airplanes, and robots, robots, robots. It is a delightful place. There are also a few tin toys in the gift shop, so we have fun picking out what we should take with us.

We walk down the hill through the park, and along the waterfront street to the Marine Tower, where we will meet A. He's late, quite late, finally arriving in a taxi. He exited at the wrong side of the station, he says, and apparently walked quite a way before realizing he wasn't where he wanted to be. We head away from the water and through the Choyomon Gate into China Town, looking for lunch.  We settle on a small (6 tables) restaurant, where we dine royally on sauteed spinach, spicy tofu, rice, and potstickers.  This is a set meal, and we order for two; it serves three handily, what with the seaweed soup and a tofu appetizer.

Now we're off to the Silk Museum. We learned in Kyoto, once a very famous city of silk and kimono, that most of the world's silk these days comes from China. And in the museum we watch a very interesting film on the traditional arts of designing and painting kimonos, featuring a famous Kyoto artist. There is some similarity to the batik process: design drawn in ink that will wash out; a coating over painted parts that protects the colors when the background wash is applied. But the artistry -- the results are breathtaking. This particular artist scatters little grains of something coated with glue on the cloth, then applies color. The result is a grainy finish that truly does, as intended, lend depth to the design.

The kimonos on exhibit are beautiful, gorgeous in the extreme. Most are for women, and there are also dancing kimono, worn over the regular kimono, these of very light fabrics that float free as the dancer moves. Downstairs is an exhibit showing how silk is made. There are cocoons, live worms, a loom that I am obliged to try by the zealous exhibit keepers, a hand spinner pulling threads from cocoons floating in some sort of liquid, and a mechanized spinner. There are all kinds of vessels and tools on display, too.

The weather continues with occasional rain and gusty winds. My poor 500-yen umbrella has been turned inside out several times. A has a Japanese umbrella, designed to turn inside out without damaging the ribs. I wish. We decide to take a break and meet later for dinner. Our first adventure, then, is finding Kannai Station. This is not as difficult as it seems, although reading the map while it flaps in the wind is very inconvenient.

A goes two stops southeast, and we go in the other direction. We take the Negishi line back to Yokohama Station and wait for a Yokohama line train to Shin-Yokohama -- and wait, and wait, and wait. We finally go downstairs and ask -- go one station further and then change. So, we do.

We rest a while and then gather outselves to venture out again. The trip back to Kannai Station starts with a misstep. Since we went to Yokohama Station the last time on our way into town, we'll try that again. But our train stops one station short of Yokohama Station ... and reverses direction back to Shin-Yokohama. This is an easy recovery. We hop off at the next stop, backtrack, and catch the Negishi to Kannai. We are only 10 minutes late.

A takes us walking in the area southwest of the station, where a wide pedestrian mall lined with shops, restaurants, and pachinko parlors is curiously slow for a Friday night. Maybe it picks up later, although A tells us that the pachinko parlors are bound by law to close at 10 p.m. We walk the length of the mall, and turn back to a restaurant that has fresh fish in bins and tanks out front.

This proves to be a good choice, although we are a bit surprised that there is no English menu and no pictures, and no one speaks more than a few words of English. But we manage to order a grilled fish, a vegetable dish, and a pork dish, and later some grilled oysters. And beer, of course. The fish is excellent. We pick over it with our chopsticks to get every bit.

We stroll back up the mall to Kannai Station, and part ways once again. Our journey "home" goes without a hitch -- we know the drill now. Tomorrow we will meet A at his home station, Yamate.

Osaka

Wednesday, July 28

We are in Osaka, the third largest city in Japan. Last night we visited the Dotonbori shopping district, just a few stops down the subway line from the station near our hotel. We decanted ourselves at Namba Station, and stepped into the Namba Walk, an underground shopping mall stretching from this station all the way to the next subway stop. Most of the shops sell womens clothing, although there are a few restaurants here and there as well.

Above ground is an amazing shopping/leisure area. It seems at first blush that every other place is a pachinko parlor. All have glass fronts, so you can see the fancy colored lighting inside and see the machines flashing. When the doors open you can hear the music of the machines. It's lacking only the clunking of coins to sound like a Las Vegas casino.

Once we get away from the stairwell, there are all manner of shops. We poke in quite a few, looking for a new toothpick holder. We saw one in Malaysia that was just what I wanted, in a restaurant of course. I  haven't been able to find one like it. We pick through shops where you really have to watch your step; the aisles are lines with piles of plates and platters, and there is just room to put one foot in front of the other, carefully.

We end our expedition with a bowl of noodles, and retire for the night.

In the morning, we explore this restaurant's breakfast buffet. There is always something new. Today it is octopus balls (no, not that kind). I'm growing fond of eating a lot of vegetables, including salad, at breakfast. Today I have a cup of vegetable soup, a variety of steamed veggies, a new style of vegetable stew that turns out not to be to my taste, a bowl of salad (lettuce, cabbage, sprouts, tomato, miso dressing), and some yogurt. I also have some of the aforementioned octopus balls (think fish cakes), a couple of small meatballs, and a ball of something called "cancer also retreats". The last is some kind of dumpling.

After breakfast, we set off on JR's Osaka Loop Line to the Osaka Castle. Ours is the fourth stop. At the third stop, a very nice lady turns to me and says, "Last". I look at her in puzzlement. "Last," she says again, and gestures toward the exit. Sure enough, everyone's getting off. The train switches its designation to "Out of service" and pulls out of the station. With everyone else we board the next train, and ride the one stop to our destination.

The JR official at the information booth, where we have to show our rail passes as we exit, is ready with an English-language brocure about Osaka Castle. It's hard to miss. Outside and down the steps we go, and around past Osakajo Hall. We walk through a crowd of teenaged girls. Some of them are sitting beside the wide pathway, against the retaining wall, goods spread before them. Most prominent are what look like pictures cut from magazines and pasted onto the flat kind of fan. There are a couple of male faces, and several female.

As we begin to make our left turn, following the castle signs, a couple of young men run by. One has a radio in his pocket and an earpiece in his ear. The second is unencumbered, but proceeds briskly with the first, only to disappear into the blocked-off hall.  The girls are shrieking and jumping up and down. Have we just seen a rock star? Must be something like that. We see several trucks parked near the hall with the markings "MSA Japan World Live Tour".

Excitement over, we advance to the castle, approaching the outer moat, then crossing same by a bridge. This site originally hosted a temple, Osaka  Honganji, built in 1496 and burned to the ground in 1580. .A castle was constructed on the site at the direction of Shogun Hideyoshi Toyotomi, he of the unfinished Senjokaku Shrine on Miyajima, the one with pictures up in the rafters (the ceiling was never finished). Upon his death iin 1598, power passed to the Tokugawa Shogunate.

A major reconstruction effort under the Tokugawa regime began in 1620 and lasted 10 years. This time lightning destroyed the main tower, and many of the other buildings were destroyed in the turbulent times leading up to the Meiji Restoration. Not until 1931 was the Main Tower rebuilt. It must be lovely here in the spring and fall. The gardens are filled with fruit trees - peaches, plums, apricots, and 4500 cherry trees.

As we exit the park the girl fans are still milling around. Wonder who's coming next

We are off to Yokohama, the final stop on our Japan odyssey. 

Today's pictures start here.

Hiroshima Peace Memorial and Park

Tuesday, July 27

 This morning we visit the Hiroshima A-bomb Dome, also known as the Peace Memorial, and the Peace Memorial Park. We walk down the street to the station and climb on a tram, fare a flat 150 yen anywhere in the city (a bit over $1.50 US). Like the buses and trains, the signs are excellent. When we alight, there's no question of the direction in which we should go.

We are immediately presented with a view of the Dome. The Little Boy bomb missed its target, the nearby bridge (not by much, though), and detonated almost exactly over this building. Everyone in the building died instantly. But large parts of the 1915 building, the Hiroshima Prefectural Information Hall, remained. Its demolition was delayed, as it was largely intact, and Hiroshima rose from the ruins around it. In 1966 the city decided to preserve the building in perpetuity as a memorial.

Behind the building, the Peace Memorial Park flanks the river. There are quite a few memorial sites here, including the Youth Memorial, inspired by a 12-year-old girl, Sadako Sasaki. She survived the bombing, but 10 years later developed leukemia. She believed, the tale says, that if she folded 1,000 paper cranes, she would be healed. She died, but her classmates continued to fold cranes. Now the origami constructions and works of art come from all around the world. Hundreds of rainbow--colored origami cranes in long streamers decorate not only this but other memorials as well.

At the bottom of the park is a very large, utilitarian -looking building, this is the museum. Out front is the Cenotaph, a structure that looks like the top of a Conestoga wagon arching over a stone coffin representing the victims. Behind it is a long, shallow water feature. The Cenotaph perfectly frames the A-bomb dome in the background.

The museum is as good as reported. The entry fee is a ridiculous 50 yen -- B gets in free as his is over 65 --  and we pay an additional 300 yen each (a little over $3) for an audio guide. The story starts with the increasing militarization of Hiroshima and Japan in general through the years and conflicts. Next the Japanese attacks on the Malay Peninsula and Pearl Harbor. Then a section on the Manhattan Project and the construction of the bomb. A pair of large 3-d models show Hiroshima as it was before the bombing, and after. 150,000 dead, a city leveled. And more to come.

There are a whole series of exhibits of artifacts from the bombing, most belonging to children. It seems the Japanese government, faced with a severe labor shortage, had not only conscripted workers from conquered enemy countries like Korea, but had also mobilized its citizens, including junior high school students who were assigned to work on demolition projects. The demolition was intended to limit fires if the city were subject to conventional bombing. People who lived in the areas targeted for demolition were ruthlessly displaced.

So we have teen-aged children, working outdoors on demolition projects, on the fine clear day when the bomb detonated: Monday August 6, 1945, 8:15 a.m. This is not the only conjunction of events that add to the tragedy. Consider the some 20,000 children who were evacuated to temples or friends in the countryside, who returned to the city to find everything they knew gone. And then the downstream effects of the radiation - those who did not die but developed cancer, leukemia, years later.

The whole site is now dedicated to eradicating nuclear weapons entirely. We're accosted by middle-aged ladies who urge us to sign a petition for peace. We sign. We're stopped by a teacher and two of her students who are in the English Club at their school. They invite us to answer some questions, make a small sign of our thoughts on peace, and have our picture taken with the students for a club project. The anniversary of the bombing is coming up soon. There is a massive peace celebration here on the day each year.

How can such a peaceful-seeming place, surrounded by the bustling city, have come from such devastation and horror?

So we have seen the heart of Hiroshima. We move on today to Osaka, then to Yokohama where we will visit son A.

Today's pictures start here.

Hiroshima's Beautiful Island, Miyajima

Monday, July 26

Today is the day for Miyajima, the beautiful island in the bay and, as the brochure trumpets, "One of Japan's Three Most Scenic Spots." We ride west on a train for 30 minutes, take a quick walk to the pier, and catch the ferry to the island. 

Surely, we think, being on the water, on an island, will be cooler. If you stand on the right side of the boat on the short trip (10 minutes?) you get a bit of breeze, but most of the day continues hot and sticky. In fact, there is so much humidity that the islands in the bay are cloaked in mist. No island view from the top of Mt. Misen today.

We start by visiting the O-Torii, or Grand Gate, standing in the sea in front of Itsukushima Shrine. The tide is in, so it's a perfect time to take pictures. We actually got a good view of it from the ferry as well. Those are some big trees -- each of the pillars is one tree. These must be some of those 1000-year-old cypress. The shrine itself was built in the latter half of the sixth century.

There are lots of tourists here, but it's not really crowded. This island has a resident red deer population, but we are requested not to feed them, and most people comply. As a result they are much less pesky than the last deer we met.

B and I elect to skip the Itsukushima Shrine and head for higher ground. We walk first to Senjokaku, where we enjoy the relative cool of the shrine as well as the lively paintings on wood suspended from the rafters. Behind Senjokaku is its five story pagoda, among the trees.

Somewhat cool, we head up to Momijidani Park, and on up to the entry point for the Ropeway, or gondola. We ride to the first terminus, climbing a long way up, about 430 meters. At the terminus, we change and take a short lateral ride to the Shishiiwa Station. From here we will walk a loop trail on Mt. Misen, and then descend by the Misen Climbing Path to the Daishoin Temple. At least that's what I had in mind.

We are strolling along when suddenly, B turns left. "Where are you going?" I ask. "To the top of Mt. Misen," B replies. "Are you coming?" This doesn't require much thought. Much too hot to climb mountains. "No." I shoot back. "I'll meet you at the temple."

And B disappears up the path. Meanwhile I consult the map and discover that the turn he took is indeed the selfsame loop trail that I want to walk. I'll never be able to catch him.  But I make an effort, climbing up from about 400 meters to 500 meters. At the next trail junction, I choose not to climb up to the Observatory (lookout) at 535 feet, thinking that if I avoid side trips, I might meet B on the trail.

So I don't go to the observatory, or the Misen Hondo Main Hall, or the Miyama Shrine, or the Okunoin Temple. As soon as I leave the junction, the trail descends. I don't know how many granite steps I climb down, but there are plenty. When we bought our Ropeway tickets, the official explained to us that this would be a 1-1/2 hour walk. I walked upward for maybe 25 minutes. The rest is all steep downhill, on stairs.

T here are occasional pathside shrines tucked away on rock shelfs or in little grottos. These are quite charming. At one point the path crosses a stream; I wet my neckerchief. Two silly girls with silly shoes were with me for a short time near the top, but soon fell behind or turned back. For most of the walk, it is just me and the birds and the insects and the skinks and maybe a Shinto god or two.

I arrive at Daishoin Temple soaked in sweat (and this is walking downhill!) and a little anxious about how I am to find B. There are, after all, at least six temples on the island. I wonder which one he thinks is "the" temple? And I am nearly out of water and have not a single yen to my name. Hmmm, this could get interesting. I sit for a while beside the temple steps and rest, then wash my hands at the ritual station.

I wait for 20 minutes, then decide to explore the temple precinct. The temple buildings are built on the hillside above the gate where I enter. A long flight of stairs leads to the first set of halls, where a mandala painted in sand is on display. A very intricate sand painting this is. A second flight of steps leads to more halls. I linger at the top, in the serene landscape of the gardens and the buildings and the trees and the many, many statues and carvings.

This temple belongs to the Shingon sect of Buddhism, which teaches that enlightment can be had through rituals that require mental and physical disciplines. The temple brochure calls such sects "Esoteric Buddhism", and I would suppose that those who worship the Amida Buddha belong also to this group.

From a hall to the left there is chanting, followed by drums. The taiko drums make a bonging sound and are played in a strong rhythm, over and over, the rhythm changing from time to time. On the final beat, the noise of whirling prayer wheels begin; someone is turning the Mani Wheels that line stairway to the Maniden Hall, the main prayer hall. Further down the hill, another service concludes with chant and drum.  It must be time to go.

I wander down toward the main shrine and the waterfront, thinking I may find B there. As I dodge the traffic coming around the corner on the road, I see B ahead of me. I hurry to catch up. He's been looking for me at the Itsukushima Shrine.

We sit for a while on the waterfront on a stone in the shade, spent from the heat. The tide is out, and people are walking all around the O-Torii. And there are a few people, covered up from the sun, digging in the mud flats. I wonder what they're finding? Clams? Eventually we bestir ourselves to wander down the shopping street, which is shaded above with canvas. It is cooler in the shade. We stroll and look, and eventually buy a drink. Then we head for the Kiyomori Shrine, out on a little point to the east of the big shrine.

The Kiyomori Shrine is small and shabby; in fact this whole end of the developed area is looking a little down at heel. The aquarium is closed for renovation, so they aren't getting anything like the amount of traffic they might usually get.  We do find a nice restaurant, their dishes depicted as plastic food sculptures in the windows. This is a very common practice here, and it has made ordering easy for us a number of times. It's after 3, so it must be time for a late lunch.

The proprietress speaks no English, so we go outside with her and point. B orders the steamed oysters, I the fried. Oysters are, you see, a specialty of Hiroshima. And we did pass oyster beds on the ferry on our way out. We sit indoors in the shade under the breeze from a fan. The oysters are delicious, as is the cabbage salad served with mine. We eat them all. I borrow B's Japanese phrase book and learn the Japanese for "That was delicious". To-te-mo o-i-shi-i d-esu.

We walk back through the shopping street, stopping to buy a geegaw or two, and a steamed bun stuffed with eel. Our last destination for the day is the Miyajima Traditional Crafts Center, where I'm hoping to find a turned wood rice scoop. We do finally find the building: "Closed On Monday" the sign reads. Oh, well.

We buy cold water from the ubiquitous drink machines, catch the ferry to the mainland and hop the train for Hiroshima. We do a little shopping for snacks in the station, and make an early night at our hotel. The heat saps all energy.

Today's pictures start here.

Kyoto

Sunday, July 25

Last night as we combed the guide books, we came across the description of a walk along the river. We decided to, figuratively this time, climb off the tourist bus and just soak up some atmosphere. So this morning, after a very Japanese breakfast (we've caught on to tray etiquette, but we probably still don't have the rice right) we set out on foot for the river. We will walk north and ride the subway back.

We have to go through the station, so we stop and get our seats for this afternoon's ride, a short hop to Shin-Osaka and a longer leg on the Hikari Shinkansen to Hiroshima. On our way east toward the river, the Kamo River, we are stopped on a street corner by a Japanese fellow wearing a floppy hat and speaking English. Where are we from, he wants to know. He lived in Long Beach, in several other  places in southern California, in San Francisco. He is studying English, he tells us. Why is New York called the Big Apple, he asks. And then he tells us what he has read. He has been to New York -- seven times to Broadway, seven times to MOMA. Can we name the five boroughs of New York? But really, he opines, only Manhattan is really New York. What's the difference between "the child was vigorous from that day on" and "the child was vigorous from day 1". Japan is tops in longevity. Do we know why? Two reason. First is diet - rice and vegetables and not much meat. (Pat's B's stomach and says "too much meat". "Too much beer," I answer). Second is squatting to use the toilet. Keeps people limber. He demonstrates. How old do we think he is. Guess. I guess 73, B a little older. He is, he tells us, 90. This could go on forever. We have a bit of trouble getting away from this friendly guy, but we've eventually got to go. After several false starts, "Got to go," we say, turning away. "Bye, bye," the gnome twinkes at us, and disappears down the street. I swear he's skipping.

We find the river right where it should be, and walk (albeit slowly, it is very hot) north along the banks. The water is a limpid greren, swift and shallow, rushing under the bridges and over the wiers. There are herons both gray and white. They spread their wings and flap only once, hopping from one rock to the next. Trees overhang the shored-up wall beside the river path, and cicadas drone their chattering songs from overhead. There are fishermen in waders, and some appear to be catching something. A lot of them are just sitting in the shade under the bridges, smoking. And there are the raggedy collections of tarps and traps that show that homeless people, as in cities all over the world, reside here. Bicycles pass in both directions, and there is an occasional jogger, or the geriatric walker puffing along as fast as he can go. On the left bank of the river there are outdoor dining areas of what are evidently restaurants. I'll bet those are nice at night!

When we run out of time, we climb up to the street and descend into the nearest subway station. Here we are at a loss - none of the maps is in English, nor is there an English button on the fare machine. The gate attendant helps us out with pre-written directions to Kyoto Station. He even comes out of his cubby to make sure we get the right tickets.

Train station, hotel, check out, train station, Shinkansen to Hiroshima.

Today's pictures start here.

Kyoto

Saturday, July 24

Having felt that we were not learning about the culture or history of Japan, we decided, in this historic old capital city, to take a tour. We didn't plan far ahead, and our day for touring was a Saturday, so we ended up on a bus. A group of 40 is more than slightly unwieldy. And a bus tour is a bus tour, with way too many stops and not nearly enough time where you need it. Like the tour, today's post is terse and choppy.

Our guide for the day ("call me Mickey like the mouse") did his best for us. He wore a headset with a boom mike, and wore around his waist like a fanny pack a pair of speakers. Karaoke on the go! It did make it easier to hear him, and he could use the mike in most places. We chose the Kyoto and Nara tour - morning in Kyoto and afternoon in Nara. Nara, to the south of Tokyo, was Japan's first capital; Kyoto the second; Tokyo the third.

As it is Saturday, the Imperial Palace is closed. So we begin with a Buddhist Temple, Nishi-Honganji. There is an historic building here, but it's not open to the public, unfortunately. We do learn something about the sects of Buddhism in Japan. This temple is dedicated to the worship of the Amida Buddha. Unlike other sects, who practice "becoming" Buddha through learning and meditation, the worshipers here chant a mantra to the Amida Buddha. Given enough repetitions, the Buddha will help you to become more worthy of advancement toward Nirvana. It's a powerful sect representing about 20% of the Buddhists in the country, and about 95% of Japanese are Buddhists.

Our next stop is Ronkuonji Temple, where the centerpiece of our visit is the Golden Pavilion, Kinkakuji. This is a restoration of a retreat designed and built by Yoshimutsu, the 3rd Shogun of Ashikaga (the area around Kyoto). He retired, leaving his office to his 9-year-old-son, and created the house and gardens as a setting for his study and meditations. He left instructions that the estate become a Zen temple after his death. The original buildings were destroyed by fire (set by a monk of the temple's order, yet), but the garden remains as originally designed.

Nijo Castle is our next stop. This construction of this castle began in 1603, as a residence for the first of the Tokugawa Shoguns, and was completed in 1626. It is early Edo in design, and was constructed using nails. Decorative metalwork at the intersections of beams and pillars disguises the nails. We walk past five elegant rooms with beautiful gilded and painted wall panels and doors, the nightingale floor chirping musically beneath our steps. If there are any Samurai ghosts lurking, they must be in agony.

Most of the rooms are empty, making it easier to admire the paintings (these are copies, the originals are in museums). The last room contains a tableau representing the resignation of  Yoshinobu, the 15th and last Tokugawa Shogun, who returned his power to the Emperor Meiji in 1867. We make a brief stop at the palace gardens, before setting out for the Kyoto Handicraft Center.

We have tickets for lunch at the cafeteria on the second floor of the Center, and after lunch there are six floors of stuff to look at, and maybe even buy. There are t-shirts, kaleidoscopes, ninja swords and gear, silk ties, kimonos, chopsticks, porcelain bowls and cups, all manner of tchotchkes, and, on the bottom floor, beautiful pearls. The top floor has beautiful wooden-framed umbrellas and an interesting kind of cloth that you can tie up to make a bag. Between this and the pearls, not much catches my eye.

For the afternoon, we are off to the city of Nara, about 45 minutes by  road south of Kyoto. Nara was the capital from the mid-7th century, for about 100 years. The capital was moved to Kyoto as, we are told, there was more abundant water there. Both of the sites we will visit are in Nara Park, and the park has a resident population of more than 1000 very tame red deer. We can buy a cookie to feed the deer, we are told.

We climb off the bus at the entrance to Todaiji Temple. This is the site of the first Buddhist temple built in Japan, dedicated in 752 by the then-emperor, who declared Buddhism to be the state religion. (By the way, the current Imperial family is Shinto.) The temple buildings were burned twice by Samurai, the second time a mere 400 years ago. Each time, the temple has been rebuilt, but each incarnation is smaller. The first had two wonderfully tall pagodas that were never rebuilt. Inside the temple is Japan's largest statue of Buddha: the base is original, the body from the second reconstruction, and the head from the third. The statue is a bronze alloy, and is hollow.

The pillars of the temple are composites, built from wood from many trees. The original pillars were cut from 1000-year-old cypress trees, in single pieces. Japan has none of these left. These days, our guide tells us, the only 100-year-old cypress trees grow in Taiwan. Restorers of temples all over Japan make contracts with the Taiwanese hundreds of years in advance to assure they have the wood they need. No wonder China wants Taiwan!

The aforementioned red deer are wandering everywhere. They are not only quite tame, they are quite the nuisance. Not only do their pellets litter the sidewalks, but the treats you buy for yourself are at risk. I don't buy a cookie to feed the deer, and I certainly don't offer them any of my ice cream. At night, the guide tells us, the deer retire to the deer house.

Now our tour runs into a slight glitch. Mickey arrived here with 40 "guests". After this stop, the bus holds only 39. Hmmm, what to do. He makes several passes through the area with his flag on a stick, broadcasting over his microphone, "Sunrise Tour Bus 2, please go to the bus." Still only 39. Another round. Still only 39. He calls the guide on the other bus; not there. Finally he calls the tour office; the missing person has made his or her own way to the next shrine, and will meet us there.

This last shrine is my favorite of the day. Perhaps I'm Shinto at heart (I do profess to be pagan). Shinto is a conbination of nature and ancestor worship. There are many gods, and each shrine is dedicated to a single god. On the site we visit, there are at least 4 separate shrines, although the major one is the Kasuga Shrine.

This is a fabulous place. The wide, sloping pathway is lined on either side by hundreds and hundreds of stone lanterns, moss growing on their tops.They seem to sprout like mushrooms among the trees of the grounds. In all, there are some 3000 stone lanterns at this shrine. And inside, there are brass lanterns, some green with age and some shiny and polished. There are some 2000 of these, hanging from the vermilion-painted beams of the halls. (I always thought vermilion was bright red; this is bright orange.) We pass a couple of ladies pasting paper covers on the open facets of the stone lanterns, in preparation for next month's festival, when all the lanterns will be alight.  What a sight that must be. And I do so admire the idea  of a god who can understand but one word -- one's petition had best be well considered.

Our last stop is another small craft store, and the guides sort buses by hotels before heading for home. We climb off bus #2 and onto bus #1, and are back at our Kyoto hotel by 6:30 p.m. The guide on this bus, a woman, is quite chatty, and we learn some interesting things about her life and living in Japan today. Everyone is required to have medical coverage, and it sounds like a single-payer system with multiple subscription pools. There is sales tax, and a automobile tax based on the size of the car's engine. A house or condo costs about 5 or 6 times a person's annual salary, and the interest rate on loans is government subsidized -- currently something just above 2%. The term of the loan would depend on your age; you are expected to pay it off before you retiire. To send a child to government-run university costs about $4000 US per year in tuition. The new government has just declared that there will be no fees for senior high school; before this only primary and junior high schools were free. You will still have to buy the uniforms and books, however. Attending senior high school is not compulsory. She also points out some sights, Nintendo HQ among them, and tells us about a good, inexpensive sushi restaurant in the Kyoto Station building, "just in front of McDonalds."

We enjoy the sushi restaurant, a fun place where the sushi, two pieces each on small plates, circulate around the bar in front of you on a little conveyor, just like miniature luggage on an baggage carousel. You pick what you like from the line, and pay by the plate. The sushi chefs work in the middle, preparing fresh goodies that they squeeze onto the conveyor as patrons remove plate after plate. If you want something on the card that you can't see, say tuna belly, there's a fellow floating around delivering drinks who will shout out your order to the right chef. Some of the heavy hitters have 7 or 8 plates stacked in front of them. B and I manage only 6 between us.

Today's pictures start here.

Kanazawa

Friday, July 23

The sky is blue with scattered clouds when we wake. By mid morning, the steamy heat is back, and fluffy cumulus form layers above the mountain ranges. A thunder shower might actually be some relief from this heat. Even the locals are remarking that it is very, very hot.

Last night we sampled a  local specialty in a local bar - red rice, nicely heaped and covered with a thin omelet, surrounded by brown sauce. On top there were crispy fried prawns, although you can get this dish with chicken, too. It was interesting. After dinner, we cashed in a couple of coupons that our hotel gave us when we checked in. Actually, they gave us quite a few things, including a day pass for the hop-on/hop-off bus, here called the Kanazawa Loop Bus. We also had discount coupons for I know not what, and couple of 500-yen-off coupons for what, as nearly as I can determine, are anime and comic book stores. The two coupons we did cash in were for drinks: either a whiskey and water or a special cocktail. B had the whiskey, a 12 year old Ballantyne. I had a very satisfying gin and tonic, made with lots of lovely lime juice and ice cold Bombay gin.

As we sipped our drinks, sitting at the bar on the 7th and top floor of our hotel, we had a conversation with a local fellow, a high school chemistry teacher. School holidays at his school began the day before. Perhaps he is celebrating. With his limited English and our non-existant Japanese, topics were limited. We did talk about the weather, how big California is, where to visit in Japan. We manage to have this kind of conversation fairly often; some like to practice their English.

But back to today. The buffet today, at the restaurant on that selfsame 7th floor, makes a nod to Western food, but not much of one. We find curry; greens and sprouts and tomatoes and cucumber, as well as dressings, for a salad; boiled potatoes and carrots; cooked spinach (delicious) and cold okra; Japanese risotto (sticky rice); something that looks like head cheese and is probably made from innards of some animal. There is no lack of something good to eat, and there are always rolls, pastries, croissants, and toast as well.

We are across the street to the station shortly after 8 to reserve out seats on the 12:53 Thunderbird Limited Express to Tokyo. Outside the station, an official with the tag "SAFETY" on his uniform points us to Stop #3, where the loop bus will pick us up ... but not for 20 minutes. So we spend 20 minutes sitting in the shade and people-watching: not such a bad deal but pretty rare for us. School kids in uniforms in groups of three or four queue for the bus; evidently not all the schools are out. I observe women's fashions; yep, just look at those red high-tops. Oh, and she's wearing leg warmers?? in this weather?? And here come a trio in neat uniforms, knee socks and penny loafers. Weejuns must be making a comeback.

Eventually our bus comes, the first of the day. We ride to Stop #13, walk west and then south across a bridge, and ...walk several blocks along a major street looking for Myoryuji Temple. As well as everything else has been signed, we expected big signs saying "Ninja Temple". None such. An old lady out waterinng her flowers takes pity on us; we understand only the word "ninja", but we can understand her directions; across the street and back the way we have come. As it turns out, we have to ask one more time, and are pointed down an unsigned alley to the back of the temple. We are in time for our 9:30 tour, just.

We are invited to remove our shoes, pay our entry fee, and join the three others on our tour, sitting in front of the main altar. (No photos allowed, although we can buy a spiral-bound book with photos at the gift shop for 500 yen.) Our guide gives us a pamphlet in English, and then a floppy binder with pictures and English and Chinese text, on indexed pages inside plastic sleeves. Clearly there is more to the tour than the few sentences on our pages, as there are several minutes of explanation in Japanese at each feature. But it is interesting. The temple has absolutely nothing to do with ninjas, although it won that reputation because of the traps, hidden stairways, the seppuku ritual suicide chamber, and other deceptive features of the building. In fact, these features were intended to accommodate the samurai who guarded the Lord Maeda.

From the outside, the temple appears to have only two floors, with a lookout tower on the top, this to comply with the Shogunate's strict building regulations. But inside, there are seven distinct levels, including one underground which reportedly has lots of passageways. Of course we don't see them all, but we see enough to be confused about where we are. I don't think we ever get higher than the 4th level. I wish we could have understood some of the stories the tour guide was telling our Japanese compatriots.

From the Ninja Temple, it is a long, hot walk to the Castle. Across from the Kenrokuen Gardens, walled and moated, the Kanazawa Castle sits atop the hill overlooking the town. Large parts of the wall appear to be original; large, shaped stones that fit fairly well, jammed against the steep hillside, and chinked with  fist-sized rocks where needed. A castle was first built on this site in the 1580s, replacing an earlier fortification dating to 1546. The gateway we enter through was built in the 18th century, as was most of what we see today. We  don't have a lot of time, so we see the obvious things. Another time it would be good to pay the fee and explore the storehouse and the watchtowers.

At the bottom of the hill we hop on the loop bus and ride back to the station. We are at our hotel just in time to check out. At the station, we walk through the mall (it's cool) to use up a little time, then board the Thunderbird for Kyoto. Our train heads past houses and rice paddies and an occasional vegetable garden, mountains ranged on the horizons. I snooze a bit, and wake to see that we have left the mountains at our back, and are traveling along a wide, wide bay, toward Kyoto. It proves to be hot there, too.

Two Country Towns, Takayama and Kanazawa

Thursday, July 22

We are up early and go down to breakfast near the 7 a.m. opening time. This is a smaller buffet, one half western dishes (scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, french fries, pastries) and one-half Japanese (miso soup, congee, rice, pickled vegetables, bean curd). I've found a don't much like congee, a sort of rice gruel, but I do like miso soup. I spice mine up with some red pepper, sitting in a bowl among the condiments, and put some soy dressing on my bean curd. I pick up what I think is a cold hard-boiled egg; it proves to be soft boiled. I pop it a good one on the tabletop, spattering white blobs all over my face and shirt. I discreetly (ahem) mop my face with a napkin. The shirt is beyond saving. 

The farmers market is on the other side of the river and to the north. The vegetable and flower sellers array themselves in temporary booths, back to the river. On the other side of the street are a set of permanent shops. We stroll along looking at the baby eggplants, cucumbers, carrots, onions clean and shiny, Napa cabbage, shallots, beans -- all manner of vegetables, and some flowers and seaweed thrown in as well. At the end of the street, an enterprising vendor from one of the shops is offering tastes of sweet crackers. We taste the white sesame, and buy some.

We walk back up the row of shops. The merchants have a lot of things out to taste, although I couldn't tell you what they are.  Mushrooms, certainly; pickled somethings, ginger the only one I recognize; miso paste, which I gather, cooked on a camellia leaf, is a specialty of the area. At the corner I buy a bag of rice cakes. Lunch is secured.

Market seen, we cross the bridge back toward town and turn south to the Takayama Jinya (Jin-yah as opposed to Jinja, a shrine), the government seat since the Edo era. We pay our entrance fee, and an English-speaking lady gives us some of the history and explains the map of the buildings. It seems that until around 1695, the Hida area was ruled by a warlord, Lord Kanamori. Evidently, he grew too powerful; the reigning Shogun, one of the 15 generations of the Tokugawa Shogunate, reassigned him to an area in the north of Japan, and razed his castle on the hill. The Shogun established the Takayama Jinya as a branch of the Edo civil government, headquartered in Tokyo. For the next almost 200 years, the Shogunate ruled, either through independent warlords or, as here in Takayama, through the Edo government. The Imperials, in their palaces in Kyoto, were acknowledged, but not in fact, politically, rulers.

This all changed with Emperor Meiji (he of the shrine we visited in Tokyo), who overthrew the Shogun in the late 1800s and opened Japan to the wider world. I will have to read some history to really understand, but I wonder if it may have something to do with the ruinous rice tax that the Shogunate imposed on the people.  The Hida area did not produce enough to feed the people and pay the taxes as well. In the late 1870s there were a series of rebellions, as the tax was raised and raised again. Perhaps there was unrest in other parts of the country as well.

The main buildings here are  original, built in 1615, although the living quarters which we see as well, are restored. The building looks like a temple. There are chambers for the high officials, distinguished by the ornate edging on the tatami that cover the floor; chambers for the local officials, mats with plain black edges; chambers for the commoners, no edging at all on the mats. There is a retiring room for the head official, complete with a kettle suspended over a firepit for making tea. There are formal audiance chambers and waiting rooms and even a room where high officials interrogated criminals and suspected criminals, complete with torture instruments.The building is surprisingly cool, even through there is little breeze. 

The living quarters are gracious. There are rooms for the official, his wife, the maids; a dining room; a large kitchen. Of course, all open to the garden. We also see the storehouse, where the rice and soybeans collected as tax were stored. This building, originally erected at Kanamori's castle, was moved to the Jinya site in 1695. It is complete with sacks of rice. There is also a museum with a model of the buildings, many documents and proclamations. Only a few items have English text to explain them. Among them is a bulletin board, kanji engraved on wood, proclaiming the Shogun government's intolerance for Christians. Another bulletin board explains that the government offices are now loyal to Emperor Meiji.

It's just about time for our train, so we return to the hotel, down a bottle of cold Takayama water that has been chilling in the fridge, and check out. We are at the station in plenty of time to get our reserved seats on the two express trains that will take us to Kanazawa. And then there's our first oops. The Hida Express to Toyama will be late, at least an hour and a quarter late; there has been an accident. On consultation with the staff, we rebook the last express leg and will take two local trains to get to Toyama. As I type, we are sitting on the first of these trains, to Inotani. And it's 12 minutes late in departing. We have 40 minutes between trains there. Hope it's enough. And I hope the the accident that caused these delays has not taken any lives.

As we learn later, the accident happened in the early hours of the morning, when two maintenance trains were returning to the Kobe yards after completing their work. There was no loss of life, but the consequent delays affected some 54000 Shinkansen and  Express passengers, us among them.

Our local to Inotani leaves late; it has been waiting for an express train to arrive, so that folks can make their connections. But it's only 20 minute late, so we should be fine. After an hour's journey, we are decanted onto the small platform at Inotani station. From here we go to Toyama. In the distance, we see a peculiar green (think BLM green) single-car train, just a bit larger than a city bus. It pulls up to the platform just ahead of the train from which we just alighted. Surely this is not our train? How can such an insignificant little thing carry everyone to Toyama? But it is our train. A nice gentleman who sat across from us on the last leg brings the driver down to the bench where we have settled our stuff to tell us that, yes, this is the train to Toyama. So we climb aboard. The driver spends the next 15 minutes rounding up strays -- there a lot of people, evidently, who just can't believe this little thing is the right train. This is really the milk run.

The little green one-car train does get us to Toyama on time. Here, fortunately, there are elevators, as we must change platforms to get our Express train to Kanazawa. The rest of the journey is without incident, save our confusing the taxi driver of whom we asked directions to our hotel on arrival in Kanazawa. The "Mikayo" we keep saying; but it's "Miyako". No wonder the poor guys didn't know where it might be.  We find the hotel without incident. We check in, and are very pleasantly surprised to find our room cool, a small bucket of ice on the counter, and hot water for tea if we should choose. Instead, we take a quick wash and head for the gardens on the number 6 "flat bus", so called because wherever in Kanazawa you ride, the fare is never more than 200 yen.


Kenrokuen Gardens are among the top three gardens in Japan. Arguably, they are the best of all. The gardens originated as the outer gardens of the local castle, during the Edo era. They surrounded the residence of the Maeda family who ruled here for many generations. The garden includes the first fountain built in Japan. There are two large ponds, and lots of running water, courtesy the Tatsumi water system, built at the order of the ruling lords after a disastrous fire in 1631. There are streams and even a waterfall, unusual in Japan at the time it was built. It is a delightful stroll through the manicured grounds on gravel paths. There are old, old trees, many of them with limbs propped by large timbers. Every thing in the garden is shaped to a purpose; trees, plants, ponds, lanterns, shrines. One can feel oneself relaxing, bit by bit, in the beauty of the gardens. We enjoy our walk very much. Interestingly enough there are no ducks on the ponds. The only large birds we see (and hear!) are the ravens quarreling high in the trees.

We exit the gardens near closing time, 6 p.m., thinking to walk through the adjacent Castle Gardens on our way back to the hotel. Unfortunately these gardens closed at 4:30 p.m. So we walk along the streets that skirt the gardens instead. As a bonus, we happen by the Oyama Jinja Shrine, another beautiful spot.

We have reservations for a tour of the Myoryuji Temple, aka the Ninja Temple, at 9:30 tomorrow. That, with a walk through the castle grounds will fill our morning before we depart for Kyoto. There is more to do here, including a visit to the district where geishas are trained, a visit to the local fish market (we are on the north shore of the main island, so fish is good here), and a very fine museum of modern art. Perhaps on another visit.

Today's picture start here.

Takayama

Wednesday, July 21

Today we leave muggy Tokyo for a country town, Takayama, in Japan's Alps. Alps --- altitude -- cool. Not. One ride on a Shinkansen and one ride on an Express JR train, and we're in Takayama. Right outside the station is a tourist information site; we stop for a map and get a restaurant recommendation for dinner. We check into our hotel, conveniently near the station, turn the a/c up to max, and leave to see what we can see.

This is a relatively small town, so we walk. The Hida River flows through the middle of the town, so picking a street with a bridge when one heads east is important. The Preservation District lies up the street and across the river from the station and our hotel. Here the old, traditional-style wooden houses , many from the 19th century and some even earlier, line the narrow streets. A channel runs down each side of the street, filled with water evidently diverted from the Hida River. People scoop the water up in long-handled buckets to wash their doorsteps, to water the flowers. Small children walk along in the water, and even the dogs get into the act.

The water is apparently diverted from the Hida River. It must be pretty clean, considering what people do with it. We are informed by signs at our hotel that Takayama has some of the best-tasting water in town, and that we can drink it right out of the tap.

The south portion of the Preservation District is mostly shops. You can buy rice cakes, a souvenir, sake, beer, an umbrella. We walk into one sake store with a bewildering array of bottles. Today they're offering tastes of one of the local sakes, and all the bottles on display are local sakes.  There must be hundreds. (Later we will pass one of the distilleries; you can taste there as well.) We buy a bottle of good grade, dry sake to take home, and a few bottles of the local beer to enjoy later today. The Hida area is also known for its beef, woodworking, and lacquerware. There are numerous shops showing wood - carvings, bowls, trays, all beautifully finished.

We turn our steps north, to the private house area of the district. The buildings and the streets look much the same. The only discordant notes are the cars parked here and there. Even the TV antennas, which sprout everywhere else around town in antic profusion, are concealed somehow. At the north end of the main street, we find one of the many museums in Takayama, this one the historic Kusakabe House. We take the tour.

This is a typical merchant's house from the 19th century. The living areas are built into the warehouse, and above the rooms are thick wooden beams. We remove our shoes and move through the two stories of the house. Panels on the inner walls open to the garden. I wonder what it looked like 200 years ago; the trees we see there are hardly that old. The woodwork in the house is beautiful; wide board ceilings, and wide plank floors (where they are not covered by tatami, of course). The furnishings, few that there are, are simple and beautiful. I should like to see a house like this with people living in it -- it surely couldn't be this tidy and serene.

In the courtyard, we are offered a cup of cold green tea and a rice cake. These sure aren't like the rice cakes we buy in the grocery store at home; they are thin, crunchy rounds, quite delicious. Then we continue to the small museum, containing household objects, including some beautiful pots and bowls, as well as the ubiquitous tea vessels.

We close the museum. Back at our hotel, a Best Western, we don the courtesy yakata (Japanese pajamas, essentially a cotton robe with a tie) that are in every room in this country, and relax in the roar of the air conditioning. Ah, cool. Eventually we bestir ourselves and venture once again into the streets in search of dinner. There are plenty of places. We end up in a small, shabby place called Bandai. The food is good.
 
In Toyko everything seemed to be open late; not here. Restaurants close early also. As we dine on Hida beef and sashimi, potential customers are turned away after 8 p.m. We are early to bed, with a list of things to see tomorrow before our train leaves, beginning with the local farmers market. Goody! Actually there's much more to see in the area; it would be worth spending several days here, traveling to the outlying onsen (hot spring baths) and historic buildings, seeing the floats that are displayed during spring and fall festivals, a hiking trail through 13 temples and the castle ruins, museums and museums. We have only this afternoon and tomorrow morning.

Today's pictures start here.

Hot and Steamy in Tokyo

Tuesday, 20 July

Today we swelter as we make our way around Tokyo. It is the hottest day yet, and I have the heat rash to prove it! Following the instructions of our Oracle, our first stop today is the the Tsukiji Fish Market. This is a large commercial fish market, where the big event of the morning (the early, early morning) is the tuna auction. You have to reserve a place to be allowed to observe, and you're only allowed 45 minutes. But you do have to get up really early in the morning - the auction kicks off at 5 a.m. Needless to say, we didn't.

By the time we arrive, it is all over but the packing up. But the adjacent market, selling everything from a steamer for cooking your fish to everything you need for making tea, is still going. Some of the stalls are aimed at restaurant supply, carrying large quantities of large vessels or large quantities of serving utensils, only a few displayed in front and bins and boxes stacked in the back. Others are aimed at the individual consumer. We enjoy poking through the stalls, where we find some treasures; some very pretty bamboo toothpicks, a bundle of the notched toothpicks that are used here that B wants (made in Japan!), sets of kiddy chopsticks. You can equip your entire kitchen in one visit to the market, from placemats to chopsticks to tea pot to ginger grater.

There are food streets in the market as well. Some of the cooks are packing up their kettles, done selling fish and noodles for today. But you can buy a nice piece of fish (or a whole one) for your dinner, as well as as a nice steak. I see some of the best vegetables we've yet seen here -- fresh looking, and not wrapped in plastic. There are baby eggplants, asparagus both green and white, knobby looking cucumbers, beans of all kinds, and some curious roots that I'm sure must be tasty.

Our learning experience for today has been negotiating the Tokyo Metro, the subway. I really meant to get a picture of the subway map; we think New York or London has subways? Ha! Tokyo has them beat, for sure. The first time a pretty young lady works the ticket machine for us. For the second trip, a nice gent in a uniform tells us which buttons to push. Then we're off! It's almost as easy as the trains. After a time or two, we don't even bother hitting the "ENGLISH" button on the ticket machines.

Leaving Tsukiji Market, we head for Electric City Akihabara.This is, they tell us, the place to buy electronics, THE place. It certainly is doing a booming business. There are blocks and blocks of stores selling computers, phones, 2-way radios, TVs, DVD players -- you name it. Need a cable made? Visit that guy. Need any sort of electrical item -- there are stores that sell them in bins. Need a camera or accessory? Got that, too. And the brand names are here - Apple, Dell, Nikon. We wander around for a while, bemused, but not in the market for any more electronics. We're already carrying chargers enough on this trip.

From Electric City, we head to Asakusa, where we visit the Sensoji Temple . We also spend a long time wandering the Nakamise Market. Need a fan, an umbrella, a new blouse, an ice cream? This is the place. After you enter the temple gate, you walk through the main section of Nakamise Market to reach the temple. Then, of course, you have to walk through the market again to get out. And there are a couple of cross streets in the market as well. It's a happening place, and we are fascinated. We have an ice cream each (B's is some sort of red bean curd stuff) on the way to the temple and try a pumpkin-flavored fried bun on the way out. Pretty good.

Our last stop for the day is the Ginza district. This is to Tokyo what Orchard Road is to Singapore - the place to shop, the ritzy place to shop. We exit the subway directly into a fancy department store. We are decanted on a basement level, and walk through the chocolate-and-desserts hall. Two floors down is the real food hall -- ready to cook fish, already cooked fish, beautiful bento boxes, seafood salads heaped on plates, packets of sushi, premium red meats. No photos allowed, however.

We ride the elevator to the top of the store and work our way down level-by-level on the escalators. This is one of the smaller stores, but clearly exclusive; there are only a few of each item on display, and salespeople are poised, indeed hovering, ready to help. Later we walk through the ground floor of a much larger department store. I have fun trying on hats. It's much cooler in the store than on the street, and the store covers the entire block, so we walk inside. We also find a bargain shirt for B at a suits outlet around the corner. I think he only brought 4 shirts with him on this trip, so it's clearly time for another.

We make our way "home" by subway and train. A shower is the first order of business. Tomorrow we leave for Takayama, in the "alps" of Japan. Hopefully it will be cooler there. I'm sure it will be quieter.

A Trip Around Lake Ashi

Monday, July 19

Today was an action-packed day, although I must admit that most of the action had to do with moving from one conveyance to another. In all we rode: 4 trains, a local bus, a boat, a "ropeway" (like a gondola), a cable car, and did a short walk besides. Following the Oracle's directions, we set out on a very typical Japanese tourist's trip.

We begin with our first ride on the Shinkansen, the bullet train. The Japanese train system is wonderfully easy to navigate. The stations are very well signed, and all the signs have English at the bottom. In addition the JR Information counter always has someone who speaks English, and they are careful to make sure you understand where to go. In this case, we had scoped out the Shinkansen entrances last night, so we were ready. A sign above the track tells you which train is coming in next. And there is a specific place to stand to board your assigned car. After the first time (ours was yesterday, boarding the Narita Express) it's easy!

In this case our bullet train ride is only a couple of stops, but it's still exciting. You want to be careful looking out the window; if  you concentrate on the foreground, you can get dizzy really quickly. I begin to see why the windows all have shades, and why some people draw them straightaway. On our way south, we spot Mt. Fuji in the distance. Hope it stays clear. We ride south past Yokohama-shin and alight at Odawara Station. Here we buy a Hakone free pass that covers all the rest of our transportation for the day (and for tomorrow if we so should choose).

We exit the station and find our bus stop, #3 (we've asked a question or two in between). Until we return to the Odawara Station, we'll be riding Hakone Tozan buses and trains, a whole different system. We survive a brief misunderstanding on the departure time of our bus ("in 45 minutes" actually means at 10:45), and the bus, clearly a local, winds through several towns and up and down hills on a narrow two-lane road. We alight an hour or so later at MotoKahone-ko, explore a park overlooking the Lake Ashi, walk through the Ancient Cedar Avenue to the Hakone Checkpoint, a touristy kind of place. In feudal Japan, the roads from Kyoto and Tokyo met at this checkpoint; it was garrisoned and guarded. We skip the officers quarters (fee required) but buy an ice cream each for lunch; vanilla and wasabi, soft serve.

We continue down the pathway along the shore until we run out of path. Then we walk along the sidewalk and find the pier where the pirate ships sail from Hakone-machi. We show our two-day-everything passes, asking whether we need tickets, and are waved ahead of the waiting crowd and into the queue waiting to board the next ship. I feel a little guilty about jumping the line, even if that wasn't my intent. Everyone here queues so patiently.

The boat ride to the upper end of the lake is at least a cooling event. However, the clouds are down on the tops of the mountains, and we don't see Mt Fuji. We debark and are decanted into the queue for the ropewalk. Now, what do you suppose a ropewalk is? It's a gondola. I had imagined walking along a suspended bridge over the gorge where we are supposed to see the geothermal activity. None such.

We alight the ropewalk at Owakudani, cross a large parking lot filled with cars and buses, and climb the path to the attractions. You really can't see much excepting steam and, in one case, boiling water. But there's a land-office business at the top of the stairs in black eggs, boiled in the hot springs. The shells really do turn black!

Sights seen, we retrace our steps and reboard the ropewalk (or actually, board a second ropewalk) that runs to Sounzan, and from there board a cable car to Goza. At Goza, we board a scenic train. B and I alight at the first stop to visit the outdoor sculpture garden at the Hakone Open Air Museum. This turns out to be quite an experience; there are dozens of sculptures on the large, landscaped grounds, a Picasso gallery, and a foot bath. Presumably the latter is fed by the hot springs.

Then it's back on the train, the Hakone-Tozan Railway. It is scenic, and moreover there are a number of switchbacks with single track, necessitating that either our train or the oncoming train pause on a siding. Some of the siding runs are quite long. It is still hot, and people doze off with some regularity. As warned, no one on Japanese trains gets up for women or old folks. B and I strap hang all the way to Chokoku-no-mori, where we board a more modern train for Odawara.

At Odawara, we once again get tickets on the Shinkansen, this time bound for home, Shinagawa Station. It's after 6 p.m.now, and I'm beat. Back in Tokyo, we repair to our cool hotel room and share a beer. Once energy returns, we head down the street for dinner. We spotted a couple of places last night. The first we try, which has only a small bar counter, is full. We retreat to the place with the sign reading "Beer Restaurant". One large Kirin and three dishes later (not to mention rice and miso soup) we are satisfied, and the plates are empty. Completely empty.

Kuala Lumpur to Tokyo: a Long, Hot, Journey

July 17-18

We left our hotel in Kuala Lumpur at 7 a.m. on July 17, and arrived at our hotel in Tokyo at 9:30 a.m. on July 18. In between there was: an eight-hour train ride from Kuala Lumpur to Singapore, including Malaysia immigration and Singapore immigration and customs; 2 hours in at Singpore's Terminal 1 before we could check in; Singapore immigration and customs (again) and 2 hours waiting for the gate to open; a night flight leaving at 10:40 and arriving at 6:30 a.m. at Tokyo's Narita Airport; Japan immigration and customs; trading in a voucher for a Japan Rail Pass at Narita and getting our assigned seats on the Express; more than an hour's ride on the Narita Express to Shinagawa Station; a short walk to the hotel. The most astounding thing about the ride from the airport - we rode for miles through agricultural areas -- lots of rice but other crops as well.

Our hotel, blessedly, was easy to find given the good directions we have from the travel agent. But no one checks in at 9:30 a.m. We leave our bags and proceed to do some exploring. Our bookings for Japan, which include hotel and train only, came with suggested sights and attractions for each city to which we'll travel in our two-week odyssey. Today, the Oracle, for thus I shall style our "guide" from now on, suggests that we visit the Meiji Shrine and Takeshita-dori, a popular shopping street.

It's a Sunday, so there will be crowds. We cross the broad street with a crowd, back to the Shingawa Station. There we find the JR (Japan Rail) Yamanote line, and ride to Harajuku Station. We learn that we pass through the gates to the train through a gate that's attended, holding our JR Passes open in front of us -- we don't need tickets bar the Express and Shinkansen trains, which require reserved seats.

We alight and follow the masses out of Harajuku Station onto the hot streets. We explore a bit, and suss out where the shrine must be. The Meiji Shrine was constructed (and reconstructed, by the way, after the "last  war" as the signs say) in honor of the Emperor and Empress Meiji. He is credited with ushering in the age of technology, and he's fairly modern. I believe he died in 1912. Surely he was enlightened, by western standards.

One of the consecrated offerings on display is 60 barrels of wine from Bourgogne, a gesture of continuing good will between France and Japan. This was, of course, organized by a Japanese wine broker. The sixty barrels are displayed in a large rack beside the main pathway to the shrine. Do you suppose the wine is really in  those barrels? We hope they drank it before putting the barrels on display. Across from the wine, there is a display of barrels or containers marked with Kanji. Would this be rice? saki? The signs on this side are all in Japanese. It's a mystery.

The shrine itself encompasses a large plaza. There is an altar where one can make an offering and pray for the Emperor's favor. One of the striking displays is the prayers; one can buy a small wooden plaque, inscribe one's prayers on the plaque, and hang it on one of the large racks provided for this use. The prayers are diverse in language -- Japanese, English, French, German -- and in content. There is a cool breeze under the roof of the pavilion that surrounds the square. If there were only an open bench ... We see some photographers taking formal wedding portraits for a traditional wedding. The bride is attired in a kimono and her hair is done up in old style.

 We make our way back to the station and find the small shopping street, Takeshita-dori. It's beginning to get crowded. What's on offer here is mostly clothing. And, if I may make an observation? The styles for Japanese women seem to be all over the place, but most involve floral prints and at least one ruffle (preferably two or more), outrageous shoes (either very spiky heels, platforms, or basic tennies in shocking colors), and multiple layers on the upper half, even in this heat. Of course most of the girls and women are thin, so they can wear these styles; definitely wouldn't go in the U.S.

We walk to the end of the street and around the block, inspecting lunch places. We pass a couple of places where, it is clear, there is a large sale in progress. Attendants are handing out coupons, and the crowds are waiting, waiting for the doors to open. Hey presto! Must be like Filene's Basement times 10. You can buy just about anything here.

We eventually find a brew pub, believe it or not, for lunch. The beer is good, and the lunch is OK, too -- beef with ginger and chicken teriyaki -- eaten at the very Japanese style wooden bar. We decide to forgo the Oracle's suggestion for evening shopping. We stumble back to the hotel, drunk with beer, heat, and fatigue. Here we check in, shower, and don the cotton robes the hotel so thoughtfully supplies. We snooze a bit, and grab a bowl of noodles for dinner.

Meleka, or in the English, Malacca

Friday, July 16

Today we have a new driver, and a smaller car. Still, we set of for the historic city of Malacca in good time. Malacca has a long history of occupation: Indian, Portuguese, Dutch, English, Japanese. The Malay Sultans of course had a long and glorious history before any of these strangers showed up on their shores.

Our tour is lackluster. Our guide is a big Indian guy, a Hindu this one, whose sister lives in the U.S. She shops in the big and tall stores there and brings his clothes and shoes. He's a nice guy, but not a great guide. He also has a nicotine habit and a horrible, phlemgy cough. The car today is smaller; there's just enough room for my feet and knees behind the drivers seat, set back to accommodate the guide's large frame.The day is hot and steamy.

We begin with a boat ride on the river (tickets not included in tour). The state has put a lot of money into building a river promenade and redoing some of the buildings. It appears that they'd like the riverside to be one long tourist attraction, eventually. What will become of the traditional Malay houses that line one section of shore? Of the tin-roofed shacks that line another, and the people who live in them. And even the swanky buildings on the other side of the river will eventually change ownership as the area becomes more exclusive.

Following this, we have a free hour to explore the old Dutch Stadthuys and environs. We walk up to the top of the hill, where there is a blessedly cool breeze, and examine the ruins of the chapel/church/gunpowder store atop the hill, built originally by the Portuguese. The walls are some 5 feet thick, and it is cool in the portions of  the building that are still roofed.

The large Stadthuys building below on the square, painted a now-trademark dark red, houses a museum, entry fee 2 ringgit each. We wander through a random series of exhibits before arriving at the history section. There we wander through the long history of the Malay Sultans, their dealings with the Indian Princes, and finally their defeat at the hands of the Portuguese, led by a fellow named Albuquerque, in 1511. There follow a series of rooms dedicated to the rule of the Dutch, British, and Japanese.

Outside once again, we marvel at the row of trishaws, gaudily decked with flowers.

Next we head to the old section of town, an area of historic buildings and narrow streets. Here we visit a Buddhist temple, a Hindu temple, and a mosque , all on the same street. Then we adjourn to a noodle house for lunch, where the excellent noodle bowls (5.50 ringgit each) are included in the tour, but the beer is not.

Back in Kuala Lumpur, we buy a sandwich for tomorrow's train ride, and have a very good dinner in a Vietnamese restaurant near our hotel. B gets out the sewing kit and repairs the seam of my duffel; I hope it will last two more weeks.

Cameron Highlands, and Shopping in Kuala Lumpur

Thursday, July 15

This morning at Strawberry Park we copped an hour of internet time in between visits to the breakfast buffet  -- fruit and asian dishes, yum. Then, back in the car with Ali, we headed through Brinchang, the third small town in the Cameron Highlands, toward Boh tea factory. I am enchanted by the patterns that the tea trees make on the hillsides. Each individual tree has its own shape, and there is enough space between trees, all cropped to the same height, to create a jigsaw-like pattern in shades of green. There is the bright green of the new leaves growing above the flat tops. The leaves lower on the branches are dark green. Some blocks are brown; they have just been shorn, topped, as they are every six months.

We get a tour of the tea factory. Things are done here pretty much as they were back in 1929, when Mr. Russell, a businessman from Kuala Lumpur, brought the first tea plants here from India. The equipment has had some upgrades -- from a set of clippers joined to a bucket to a two-man cutter with a blower and bag, for example. But the processinig equipment looks pretty much the same, although larger, than some of the old pieces in the museum.

The leaves are harvested, dried with heat from a fire built of rubber tree wood, rolled by machine to break them apart, fermented for three hours at "room temperature" on large metal trays, dried again for 20 minutes to stop fermentation, and then sorted and graded according to size. The largest pieces are the choicest; the "dust" is used for tea bags. In a day, this factory processes enough tea to make more than 800,000 cups of tea, and they're working a single 12-hour shift.

The graded teas are packed in large sacks and transported to Kuala Lumpur, where the Boh company has its packaging facilities. There flavors may be added as well -- lemon, blueberry, strawberry -- a whole rainbow of flavors.

Who would think that rubber tree wood would be used here. Our tour guide tells us that rubber trees produce for 30-40 years, then quit yielding sap. The wood is cut and used for furniture and wood products. The tea factory buys the scraps and burns them for a hot, clean fire, with no odor imparted to the tea. We enjoy a cup of tea at the "Tea Ria" and shop in the factory store.

The location is delightful, as is the temperature and climate here in the highlands. Long before tea and vegetable crops, the area was developed as a hill station by the British Army. What a contrast to steamy Kuala Lumpur.

We stop briefly to stroll through the vegetable market. Interestingly, vegetables are packaged in small quantities in transparent bags, larger vegetables excepted as well as some sold in bulk, like potatoes. Strawberries are surprisingly expensive - about $5 US a pound. Ali tells us that the pricing for the packaged vegetables would be something like 10 bags for 10 ringgit. We taste a bit of bright green guava; it tastes like a crispy green apple.

The trip back to Kuala Lumpur is uneventful. Somehow, going downhill, the hill road seems far more curvy than it did going up. The 50 or so kilometers to the highway are slow.

Back in the city, we stop at Jadi Batek Centre to shop. Ali tells us we are the first Americans he has ever brought here. First we walk into the shop where artists are at work on hand-painted batik. Hot resin is poured into a copper drawing implement. One artist is hand-drawing floral designs on batik blocks as we watch, the strip of material stretched tight on a frame, copper "pen" in hand. Two other frames hold completed drawings, and two ladies with an assortment of colors are painting. The result is stunning. Once the design is painted, a background color is applied using a broad brush; it rolls off the wax and the other paints. Then the cloth is dipped into hot water to dissolve the resin.

Back in the shop, we look at scarves, pareo, shirts, dresses, fans, chopsticks -- and select a whole range of gifts to take home with us. Aside from the beautiful products, there is another bonus to buying here -- everything made in Malaysia. We also buy a cheesy refrigertor magnet, our souvenir of Malaysia.

Our last stop for the day is a photo opportunity near City Center. We snap pictures of Kuala Lumpur's beautiful Petronas Twin Towers. One of the towers is occupied by the government, the other by the country's eponymous oil company. The bridge between the towers, on the 41st floor, is the only area open to the public. You have to get there early in the morning to get in, Ali tells us.

We debark at the Dorsett Regency once again, with Ali's directions to the good street near here for Chinese dinner. This time, our room is ready, and it's on a non-smoking floor. It is cool the minute we open the door and the refrigerator appears to work well. This is more like it.

Today's photos start here.

Kuala Lumpur to Cameron Highlands

Wednesday, July 14

Happy Bastille Day!

Our day started with another interesting breakfast at the Dorsett Regency in Kuala Lumpur, a large buffet with traditional Western breakfast foods as well as non-traditional. B and I both selected samples from the Asian section: cabbage sauteed with raisins, sughee (a polenta-like concoction), spicy chicken, samosas, dal. Who would eat cereal  here? Not me!

We arrive in the lobby shortly before 0830 with our luggage, ready for our trip to the Cameron Highlands. Our driver loads our bags into the trunk of his black Mercedes. His name, he tells us, is Ali, and he is our driver and tour guide. We were expecting a bus! Instead we have a private tour. Ali is an Indian Muslim in this country where Malay Muslims are the majority and assume most of the high government posts. He is a font of information. He asks what we have seen in Kuala Lumpur. Not much, we reply. So he reworks our itinerary just a bit and takes us to a couple of placed in KL before we set out for the highlands.

Our first stop is Batu Caves, where a huge limestone cavern houses an Indian temple. The entrance to the cave is up a steep flight of steps, 172 of them to be exact. Ali tells us the story of Shiva and Parvati and their two sons, Ganesha and Murugan. This temple is dedicated to the younger son, Murugan, and a huge golden statue of him stands at the right of the stairs, while a frieze of his brother's elephant images decorates the roof of the building to the left.

At the top of the steps, the cave opens into a vestibule. Then it's down a few flights of stairs into the main cavern, where there are several altars tucked into natural niches. A built-up area on one side houses the main shrine. I remove my shoes and approach; an acolyte, a young handsome fellow wrapped in a sarong, blesses me and marks my forehead ... and asks for a donation. More stairs lead up on the other side into another small cavern, open at the top, where there is another and larger shrine. Batu Caves are well worth seeing. The cavern is marvelous, and that it is a temple fits very well in this setting. Bats and pigeons flit here and there, but the concrete floor is kept clean by workers with pressure hoses.

Next we stop briefly at the Malaysia's pewter place, Batu Caves Pewter. Here the sales pitch is blessedly brief, and the prices are good - everything half price. We buy one small piece, and actually get it for just a bit less than half price - 130 ringgit, about $40 US.

Now we are on our way to the Cameron Highlands, founded by a Scot named Cameron who, when he "discovered" the place, realized it would be a good place to raise tea. On the way we talk of this and that: Malaysia's constitutional monarchy and the kingship that rotates among tthe Sultans of the various states; the tolerance for other religions in this Muslim country; the history of the country and it's future; beautiful Penang and what we should see on our next visit to Malaysia.

On the three hour drive, we make a brief stop at a waterfall, and another at an aboriginal village. At the waterfall, we sniff the durian fruit, said to small like ripe cheese; it does a bit. The spiky exterior is interesting; wonder what it tastes like. The native village is right by the road. There are only about 140,000 of the native people still living in the countryside. The young ones are educated at government schools, and many leave for jobs in the cities. The houses are built on stilts and most roofed with tin. The government pays a stipend, and the people eke out extra income by selling wild produce harvested from the jungle -- large strings of beans, wild ginger, other tubers, honey -- at roadside stands.

The tree-covered mountains grow steeper as we enter the highlands. The road twists and turns, and the Malaysian passing technique leaves me breathless -- just drive in the right lane until you see someone coming or you see the opportunity to pass. Near the first town, Ringlet, we see a tea plantation. The glimpses of the tea gardens on the steep hillsides, an abstract study in greens, is fascinating. Hopefully we'll get some pictures tomorrow, when we will visit a tea plantation. And we pass vegetable gardens -- terraces all the way up the steep hillsides, with, usually, a set of very steep, narrow steps running straight up on one side. Whew! You need strong legs to farm here. This region supplies many of the vegetables for Kuala Lumpur and the strawberries are sold as far away as Singapore.

We stop for a lunch at a restaurant Ali knows in downtown Tanah Ratah, the second of the three small towns in the Cameron Highlands. Ali chooses for us; we have paratha, small portions of three spicy vegetables, and some spicy chicken, with popadums to start. These are the best popadums I've ever had - crispy and tasty. The rest of lunch is good as well. Total bill for lunch, including 2 beers -- 27 ringgit, about $9 U.S.

We check in at our hotel, the Strawberry Park, perched on a steep hillside, up a narrow road from the town. The hotel has a colonial feel - high ceiling, a huge bathroom with a bathtub on a dais and a shower on the side, a large sliding french door opening onto the balcony. It is a nice place, although rather isolated.

Settled in, we meet Ali once more and set out to see a few more things. We visit a strawberry farm, where there are hectares of strawberry plants in hydroponic cultivation under plastic. We taste the products. The berries are small and tart, and very tender. The jam is good, especially the strawberry with "marmalet", a cross beetween strawberry jam and orange marmalade.  We buy a small jar of that.

Next stop is the butterfly garden, where the main attraction turns out to be bugs! The young man who manages the place has an engaging manner and an interesting collection of snakes and bugs, as well as a flock of butterflies among the flowers in the enclosure. (He also has a few vipers and at least one large scorpion.) Bob holds many of the critters: a whip snake, a rhinocerous beetle, a huge stick bug, a grasshopper. We are joined by an Indian family, and the little girls are just a bit skittish. They don't want to hold the chameleon, even when I take it  to show that it is harmless -- or anything else.

We make a short stop at the Chinese temple, where there is a whole lot of construction going on in the courtyard and around the outside. Golden dragons guard the temple entrance, and koi swim in the pond in the corner of the courtyard. A laughing buddha sits in the anteroom. The altars in the main temple are decorated with offerings of fresh fruit. A gong sounds in the background, calling the monks to ... something.

We finish the day with a drive through the Malay village, where men are at work hanging icicle lights and star-and-sickle emblems along the road. They are getting ready for Ramadan.

Back at our hotel, we explore a bit. There's a "hanging bridge" at the back of the main building. We can see it from the balcony of the breakfast room, although we can't discover how to get there. The upstairs bar/restaurant is closed. The staff is setting up a dinner buffet in the breakfast room; we later see a large bus in the parking lot -- buffet explained. The map shows a strawberry farm, and we can't figure out how to find that either. A man strolls through the parking lot in a garment clearly provided by the spa, slippers scuffing on the pavement while he talks into his cell phone. We watch the clouds blow in over the hilltops; half an hour later it is clear again.

Today's pictures start here.

Singapore pictures, at last!

Here.