Anywho...after getting off the train at Gero (thanks again, old dude), I was quite glad I had prioritized proximity to the station when booking the hotel the night before. After maybe a 5 minute walk or so, we found the place. I hadn’t even thought about it, but they asked for our passports when we checked in. Instead, I handed her my Alien Registration Card, which is my ID so I don’t have to carry my passport everywhere. She looked very confused, then asked if I live in Japan (umm...yeah, you kind of have to in order to receive one of those cards), and consulted her boss to see if it was acceptable. Umm, it had better be. Your government issued it, what’s the problem? They asked if Maria lived in Japan, too, and I just lied and said yes since Maria didn’t have her passport with her, either. Thankfully they didn’t ask for any of her documents. We were finally able to set down our stuff …and then headed down to the onsen! I freaking love onsen, in my opinion, they are one of the most relaxing things in the world. I was especially looking forward to it, hoping it would relax my misbehaving back muscles. They seem to have an incredible knack for tangling themselves twixt each other. Surprisingly, (or maybe not for those who work in an office) I think sitting in an office chair all day with less than stellar posture is contributing to this more than capoeira ever has. Anyway, the hotel had an indoor bath to soak in, along with two baths exposed to the outdoors (although still covered overhead). The view off the ledge, though, was amazing. You could look out across the river and up to the snow-covered mountains. The only problem is I couldn’t really wear my glasses into the bath (steam, etc) and didn’t have my contacts, so the lovely view was rather blurry. Oh well. In any event, it was incredibly relaxing, and since it’s winter, you get the nice contrast of being super warm everywhere and then a nice cool breeze on your head. I pretty much fell asleep like a baby after that, only to wake up and, you guessed it, head down to the baths one more time. After sipping on some green tea and cookies that were in the room, it was time to check out.
We then picked up the tourist guide map from the station and headed up towards this “village” museum area that had transplanted “gasshou-zukuri” houses from Shirakawa village. It worked out well, since Maria had wanted to visit that village, anyway. It ended up being a really cool place, and we toured a couple houses converted into museums. It was certainly neat to see all the old tools and machines used “back in the day” but the real treat was this random old guy sitting at the old-school coal/ash pit for cooking. He apparently works there and chats people up a bit and takes their picture if they’d like. Well, he thought it was really cool that I spoke Japanese and could understand his mumbling old man speak and ended up chatting with us for quite a long time. Unlike the old guy on the train, this dude was a class act. He was roasted some onigiri and other goodies over the coal pit for his lunch, and he offered, nay, insisted that he share it with us. So we each had a roasted onigiri, golden brown and crunchy on the outside, warm and soft on the inside, and absolutely wonderful. He also had some tofu and pickled radish and a couple other goodies, along with a thermos full of tea that he offered to share. Maria and I felt bad that we were essentially eating half this dude’s lunch, so we tried not to eat a ton. We probably chatted for an hour or so, talking about cultural differences and our hometowns…and the fact that Suzuki Motocorps is having really good sales in India (a morsel of info he pointed out to me after learning Maria was half-Indian). As cool as this dude was, Maria and I wanted to continue on with the day and were about to leave when he insisted upon getting a picture of the three of us. So we politely waited for another group o’ tourists to come along and take our picture. In the meantime, he gave us some suggestions as to what to do with the rest of the day. Halfway through his suggestions, I was surprised to hear him say, “Now this is going to sound weird, but there’s this toilet.” Uh, wha? For a second, I thought I had misheard. But no, he went on to tell us of this legendary restroom located in the parking lot of one of the buildings further up the hill. Again, this guy was just plain awesome. We really only got vague directions and sadly never ended up finding this “lavatory of the gods,” but it’s about the journey, not the destination, right? In any case, that was two funky old guys in two days. I thoroughly enjoy random encounters like these, so that alone made the trip up north a success in my mind.
In the middle of the village area was what looked to be a hot spring foot bath. It looked like you could just sit on the ledge and dip your feet/legs into the canal of piping hot water. Our feet were freezing, so this looked amazing. However, we lacked a towel of any sort, so we went into the merch shop on the premises and picked some up. We then made a beeline for the foot bath, only to find the water to be scalding (as least it felt that way to my icicle toes). After a few minutes of timid test dipping, I was able to leave my feet submerged in the toasty hot water. Maria was not far behind, and we sat there soaking our feet for probably close to a half hour, happy as pigs in shit.
The steam rising off the water’s surface looked particularly cool as well. As a testament to the temperature of the water, there was a line halfway up my calf below which was pink. There was more proof in the fact that my feet stayed noticeably warm for a couple hours afterward, despite walking through snowy, wet areas in my shoes that are starting to detach from their soles.
Maria often claims that my face ruins a picture, and I believe gave an example of such over on her blog. I am not one to take this lying down, so I am providing a counterpoint...or rather just a corollary: Maria's face also ruins a picture. Exhibit A and B are below.
Note the beautiful nature:
Note that horrible face Maria is making:
We walked a bit more through the village when I noticed a sign outside of the café/restaurant on the premises that said they had amazake (sweet sake). I had only had the stuff once before, and even then it was just a dixie cup’s worth while standing in line at a temple on new year’s (when I studied abroad 3 years ago), but the stuff was amazing and had left quite the impression on me. I was elated at the chance to have it again and browbeat (well, not literally, although I wouldn’t put it past my eyebrows) Maria into eating there for lunch. I had oden (Japanese stewed assorted goodies) and gohei mochi (rice paste slathered with an amazing slightly sweet yet savory sauce) and Maria had tempura udon. The food was great, with the gohei mochi being especially nostalgic.
The real attraction, though, was the amazake. Unlike “regular” sake, this stuff isn’t clear; it still has bits of soft rice in it and sports an opaque white color. Although I could maybe see someone not appreciating the texture, the taste makes up for it and then some. It tastes mainly of ginger with only a faint alcohol taste, and according to Maria it has hints of cardamom, but I’m not sold on that completely. Either way, it is an extremely delicious beverage and really hit the spot.
Warmed by both the foot bath and sake, we felt ready to go searching for that toilet. We headed up the hill as directed, but couldn’t find the proper turn off. It was just as well, though, because we made it to this bridge that has an expansive view over Gero city, and it lined on the other side by absolutely massive evergreens.
We took in the scenery, and managed to find a toilet, but not the toilet. This would have to be close enough, since we had to start heading back to catch our train. Despite taking the local train back, this time we didn’t run into any colorful characters.
Back in Ogaki, we had one more item to scratch off Maria’s list of food to eat, and that was takoyaki (octopus dumplings). So we headed over to the food court in the nearby mall and stopped at the grocery store so Maria could pick up some snacks and whatnot to bring back to the States. Maria reluctantly started packing while we watched more Anthony Bourdain. She actually managed to finish with some left over time to sleep, which is more than can be said for myself when I pulled an all-nighter packing before I moved over here (not my smartest moment). We had planned to get to the airport a little over 2 hours before her flight, but things got a little interesting when we managed to botch the normally routine transfer at Kanayama. We were supposed to connect to the 10:05 express to airport, and indeed both Maria and I swear it was 10:05 when we stepped on the train, and I distinctly recall seeing the sign say the next train was the 10:05 airport express, but the next train the pulled up, and that we got on, was actually headed somewhere else. Looking back, I should’ve realized since the airport bound train usually have the airport logo on the cars somewhere. Still, my “oh shit” sense kicked only a few stations into the ride, so we got off at the next stop, where I ran down to the station attendant’s window and asked what the quickest way to the aiport would be. We had to double back a couple stations and catch a transfer there. I was getting quite worried at this point, since we hadn’t factored in a whole lot of extra time to get lost. It seemed like maybe Maria wasn’t meant to go back to grad school, but rather spend her days eating her way around Japan. We lucked out, though, and the transfer was quick, and even an express train, so we managed to get to the airport with enough time for her to check-in (literally no line, thank you Nagoya airport) and say our goodbyes.
Needless to say, the train ride home was a rather lonely one. In an effort to combat the low I was riding, I called up Jon and Sarah and we grabbed dinner at Sato, a place with some outrageously scrumptious tempura donburi. Good food and good friends always helps out.
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