Every Title I Came Up With Sounded Like A Tourism Ad For Kyoto

Holly, the Wife, has a very unusual talent. She seems to have a sixth sense-like ability to find good places to stay on our travels. I'm not sure how she does it, clearly divination or voodoo is involved, because she gets online and the places we NEED to stay just seem to bubble up to the surface. Case in point, Yonbanchi in Kyoto, the house of Divyam and Yasuko. Divyam is a transplant Frenchman that has spent the past 3 decades in Japan married to Yasuko, having fled a currency trader's life back home, passing through India ("India is not a good place to be broke so I came to Japan"). Yasuko's life is no less interesting, her tale beginning in the bleak post war years, crosses paths with prominent American painters and ends with her greatest challenge of all, Divyam. Together the two form a wonderfully maniacal good cop/bad cop team whose solitary goal is to make sure you see as much of Kyoto as possible. Divyam alone is a veritable force of nature. Arriving in the early afternoon in Kyoto by train from Odawara, any notion of being able to sit down, get our bearings, and take it easy were immediately set aflame as we were given a thorough, detailed, and positively head spinning crash course on what we would be doing that afternoon. The orientation involved maps, complex directions, business owners names, where we would rent bikes ("walk? No, you will rent bikes"), locations to park the bikes, and which of the public baths we MUST try that night before we would be allowed back in the house.

With a smile, a wave, and his customary farewell of "don't forget to get lost" we were cast out onto the street to go get the bikes we were to rent for our stay. Holly and I blinked in the bright, humid, Kyoto sunshine and trudged down the hill to the bike shop. I was given a standard bike, but Holly was required to rent a fancy thing with a high tech electric assist facility; not an electric powered bike, mind, more of a passive system that kicked in when needed, depending on its settings. For some reason the bike shop owner had me try the device, which I found oddly disconcerting, then made me get off and give it to Holly to careen about the streets upon. My test being her instruction, I guess.

 She eventually got the hang of it, but at first it mostly freaked her out. Bikes in hand, we promptly made our first mistake...we returned to Yonbanchi. Divyam greeted us with a look as though he knew we were trying to sneak away from some important task. He was clever, too. "You need the charger for this bike", my response was weak "can't we get it tomorrow", "tomorrow the bike shop is closed", then his mind started working. He must have realized if we went to get the charger we would then have to bring it back to the house, allowing a possible opportunity for loafing. "I'll ride down with you, get the charger and that way you can be on your way". With that, it became clear we had lost this little battle of wills. There would be no lazy American layabouts on Divyam's watch. We were going to become model tourists. "Remember," it was almost a victory cheer "don't forget to get lost!" As it turned out, his energy was far from a curse, it was in fact wonderful. Very quickly we got the feel for the city; where things were and the best ways to get around, though that first afternoon was a bit bewildering. Lets face it, when two yokels used to biking around the tiny town we call home are dropped onto the streets and sidewalks of a city of 1.4 million and required to get the lay of the land at bicycle speed, it can be a little hectic. I had a bit easier time than Holly, partly due the fact I LIKE riding bikes through crowds, but equally because she was still on the bottom of the learning curve with her infernal not-quite-motorized device. Added to that, we hadn't eaten since our enormous breakfast that morning way back in Miyanoshita. Holly's contribution to our choice of dining while traveling is usually "eat...now", which I tend to find infuriating at the time, but has almost never led us astray. It tends to result in us walking into a place rather than roaming about endlessly looking at menus and discussing options. As it happens, this was a good example of that phenomenon. We had been headed further downtown, but instead I pulled us up at a streetside yakitori stand. The seats out front were full, but I thought I had seen tables around back, and was promptly beckoned to sit, always a good sign. The "dining area" was under the carport for the apartments behind the stand and beside the small metal hearth where they were roasting small pieces of wood to make the charcoal to cook the skewers. Provided with beer, cabbage leaves and dipping sauce as an appetizer, a xeroxed order sheet and a pencil, it was immediately apparent we were in the right place. On the sheet, next to the offerings in Japanese, Korean and English was a space to mark how many skewers you desired of mushrooms, chicken livers, asparagus, chicken hearts, chicken cartilage, green peppers, chicken skin, beef tongue, and.....chicken (so oddly not listed as being from a specific part of the bird it left you wondering what it was). And it was DELICIOUS. Cooked over the very charcoal we watched getting made, I couldn't think of a better welcome to a strange, new town.

You may notice in this pic I'm drenched with sweat. It was sooooo, damned humid. I must reiterate an earlier statement: August is NOT the best weather month to visit Japan. If you're used to Florida's weather this time of year, add on a few extra points of humidity and you've got an idea. We would eventually learn the tricks to going about your days in the warm bathwater that passed for air without looking too disgusting or passing out, but it should be pretty clear that had yet to happen from these first pics.
Anyhow, satiated with the things that make life good: beer, grilled vegetables and random chicken and cow parts, it was back on the bikes and further into the city.

We ended up on a street lined with restaurants and clubs and began to be aware of a phenomenon we would later encounter quite frequently. Between about 5 and 8 there is a weird "hole" where its no longer bustling daytime activity, but the dinner and evening activity hasn't started up yet. Streets get very quiet and a lot of places have a "not open yet" look to them, then suddenly there are people everywhere and the night shift has started. You can drop into a place on an empty street, then walk out an hour later and it looks like a carnival has started up. At first we were nearly alone, but soon we were joined by half of Kyoto for an evening stroll and a drink. I wish I had a pic of this street not half an hour later, it was shoulder to shoulder.

Passing a little tapas joint, of all places, we decided to pop inside, though mainly fueled by Holly's need for a bathroom. Over port and more tasty vittles we debated whether or not Divyam would allow us in yet. We were knackered so decided to brave it. On the way back, glancing down a side street, Holly spotted a Guiness sign. Perhaps afraid of returning too early we decided to investigate and found Sheep's. It was a jolly little place with good beer, food if we hadn't been stuffed, and Olympic Women's soccer on the TV. However, we were getting well and truly tired, so finished our beers and jumped back on the bikes. At the house, though disappointed we hadn't fit in a trip to the baths, Divyam allowed that we had accomplished the bare minimum to be granted access to our beds. With bellies full of goodness and 23 pounds of sweat lighter, we were amazed it was just the end of our second day. Our arrival at the airport the previous morning seemed so long ago, not surprising given we had barely stopped moving since arriving. So with dreams of grilled chicken parts dancing in our heads, we sleepily looked forward to our first full day in Kyoto.