Toroi-san in Japan: Part 3

I'm finally back to finishing up Troy's PERFECT vacation in Japan. At least, this account is my side of the story. It's been a few days since my last Kyoto entry and I'm trying to catch myself up. I've done and seen a lot, since then. The first night was spent on a bus, then two nights at the Gojo House (lovely place)...

After two nights at the Gojo House (a lovely place) we were going to have to check out. We couldn't check in at our next place until that night so we needed a place to stash our luggage. The friendly staff at Gojo offered their office. It was a safe enough place so we accepted. We were then off to Hiei-San. The Gojo staff offered some valuable advice on the easiest route to the nearest bus that would take us there. We weren't ready for the easiest routes yet. It involved catching a nearby train and then getting off at the appropriate stop and catching the bus to the mountain. Instead, we hobbled back to Kyoto Station and caught the bus from there.

Hiei-zan is one of my favorite places in Japan. There is a huge temple complex (Enryaku-ji) that sits on top of the mountain and is home to the Tendai sect of Buddhism. This complex is historically known for its warrior monks (sohei) and their political power in the region. The morning we went was rainy and foggy. I was sad to miss the views that I caught the last time I was here, but the fog added to the atmosphere of being in this ancient complex (founded in the 700s). We mistakenly took the bus to the last stop at the summit. The only things up there are a nice view (on a clear day), restrooms, and some kind of open air flower garden with reproductions of Impressionist paintings along the sidewalk. While I was in the restroom, Troy checked out the flower garden. I think he really did it to get a chance to interact with the pretty girl in the ticket booth. While I was waiting for him to come back from the garden, I found a Japanese tourist waiting at the bus stop who seemed to have made the same mistake as us. She also meant to get off at the previous stop to look at the temples. The best thing to do as a tourist in a foreign country is to find a native tourist and follow them.

When it was time to catch the bus and go back to Kyoto, I just had to find another tourist going to the same place. They lady we followed earlier, waved at us and disappeared on an earlier bus. Thirty minutes later, the bus we were going to take came to a stop. Surprisingly, the Japanese lady was on this bus, too. Red-faced, it turns out that she took the wrong bus, again. And she speaks the language! I was starting to not feel so bad. Just so you know, we knew this was our bus, from repeatedly asking all the previous buses, "Does this bus go to Kyoto Station?" Finally, I found an old man that was going to Kyoto Station and we just followed him.

Back in Kyoto, it was time to find our next hotel (the word hotel used loosely): The Uno House. We walked back to the Gojo House (a lovely place), retrieved our bags, and set out. All I had in way of directions was a highlighted spot on my tourist map. I didn't have too many other directions, after all how hard could it be to find a guest inn? I didn't tell Troy that I had searched that first morning in Kyoto for this place and failed. I didn't think he could handle it, what with his knee pain, hunger, and the rain that was now falling on us. At this point, buses and taxis were still off limits. We were still saving money.

As we got closer to the pink mark on my map, I finally told him that I really didn't know exactly where it was. I just knew we were close. Right about then, I saw a guy that looked like your typical dirty hippy backpacker (don't get me wrong- we looked the same way: tired, carrying backpacks, wearing a funny hat, in dirty clothes, etc.) round a corner about two blocks ahead of us. I told Troy to come on and we picked up our pace to catch up with the guy. As we rounded the same corner, I caught a glimpse of the guy sliding a door shut behind him, down what looked like an alley. I hurried over and on the door was the sign "Uno House." We cheered. We were wet, tired, hungry, and in pain so it was a small victory, albeit a short lived feeling of victory.

We opened the door and what struck me first was the pile of shoes in the cramped entryway. There was the guy we followed and in front of him there were about three more people. Beyond that it was kind of smoky and noisy. Troy and I exchanged nervous glances as we struggled with taking our shoes off and balancing with our luggage. One reason we were nervous, was because I was thinking that we didn't get private lodgings at this place but we had to share a tatami room. We didn't feel too comfortable with this crowd since we don't drink sho-chu or smoke hashish. To our delighted surprise, Noriko actually did get us a private room.

We followed our host past a tiny dining/lounge area full of an assorted (young Japanese lady, young American with dreadlocks speaking Japanese, and old Japanese guy in gray longjohns, and a couple of Europeans) group engaged in some lively conversation. We went through a door and entered some kind of laundry area/hallway with a large sink. Off of this hallway was a door to the two showers and the two doors to the restrooms.

We went down another hallway (I noticed we were walking off of the damp concrete floor, on top of boards that were covered with blue tarps-strange) and turned a corner. What I noticed most was the strange mix of architecture in this building. I didn't know if we were in one building or in some kind of series of shanties.

Our host finally brought us to a "hallway" that ended in a small stairway. Our room was on the left. He handed us two white sheets. They had UNO HOUSE written in a black marker and three of their edges were unhemmed and coming unraveled. They looked more like the stuff the guy from The English Patient was wrapped up in.

Our room was painfully tiny. There was room for us to lie down next to each other and then to stack up our bags, next to the wall. In one corner was a little space heater that reeked of kerosene. We shut the door and collapsed on the floor, against the wall. Needless to say, our exhaustion had almost gotten the better of us. We were grumpy and complaining. We couldn't believe this place. I left to go the bathroom and turned down one hallway, only to have my socks soaked in a mystery moisture from the floor. Troy had also done a little exploring. We realized that we were in an alley and that some kind of makeshift roof had been built over the top of a few smaller building. The stuff on my socks was probably rainwater. We couldn't believe what a dump we were in. Around ever corner was another corner and sometimes a mysterious fire-escape kind of stairway disappeared into the shadowy recesses of the loft/attic areas. Boxes were piled up and for some reason the phrase "Cambodian flophouse" came to mind (Note: I've never been to Cambodia and am not entirely sure what a flophouse is). Defeated, back in the room, Troy slumped against the wall and started to open a little pre-wrapped rice ball snack. He was actually going to eat that for dinner. Instead we decided to go for a little walk, calm down, and get something warm to eat.

It's amazing what some good warm food can do for your mood. With warm bellies, we returned to our quarters and were in somewhat better spirits. The entire place was filthy it wasn't that filthy! The staff was rude but they weren't that rude. Our room (and now our things) reeked of kerosene but it's not like we could smell the cigarettes from the lobby. It was strange to be locked up in this perfect cube of a room with no windows. I definitely felt like an out of work samurai wandering around Edo looking for somebody to buy my sword arm. I was just missing the cheap sake. We reminded ourselves, we were getting what we paid for. This room was about $20 per night from each of us. Oh how we missed The Gojo House (a lovely place).

Earthquake #3

Is a catfish this small (Magnitude 1) really something to be so proud of?

We had another earthquake last night. I don't really mind if there's ONE earthquake in January and then another one in April (small ones mind you). But, to have two within a couple of days of each other? I'm not sure I even quite grasp the idea that the earth is actually shaking.

Earthquake #2

In my effort to appease the giant catfish spirit that lives under Japan, wiggling its tail, I'm posting another catfish picture. This one was found in Wichita, KS and that is a basketball in its mouth.

I had my second quake last night around 3 am. It was a 3 where I am. I awoke to some rattling and shaking, realized it was an earthquake, and went back to sleep. More can be found at the link below:

http://ca.news.yahoo.com/s/21042006/2/world-strong-earthquake-strikes-eastern-japan-3-injured-tsunami-danger.html

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IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE PREVIOUS POST TITLED "206" YOU MIGHT BE MISSING SOME BACKGROUND FOR THIS POST. THANK YOU. THE MANAGER

Seriously! Stop reading this until you've read the other! The morning after Noriko's uncle passed away, the hospital called and asked us to come get his belongings. We promptly headed over and picked up a couple of bags. One bag, contained some of his mail, his wallet, a watch, and just some loose odds and ends. It also contained the remains of his father (J-Mom's father and Noriko's grandfather). Since he was living with his parents at the time of his father's death (the mother has been in a nursing home for the past 4 years), he was the caretaker of his father's remains. Since he was estranged, Noriko's mom hasn't known the whereabouts of her father's bones. Finally, she had them.

There was another bag of items, as well. This bag contained several photos of her uncle partying and several photos of his current/ex? girlfriend. There was a crucifix, a statue of a saint, a bible, and a few pictures of a baby. Oh!? And what is this? It's a little container. Hey, I've seen that kind of box before! It looks like a little funeral urn box! I can't tell you the surprise at having some unknown baby's remains in your possession. One minute you're getting this voyeuristic peek into a dead man's life and then suddenly your faced with a dead baby. That's a big "What the $%$$?" As if, I wouldn't be seeing and doing enough new things, later that day (see previous entry).

So, for the record, let me just say that there were three boxes of bones and ashes in the house yesterday evening. We searched some more and found some kind of record of a religious ceremony done for the baby. It contained the name of an unknown Japanese man and the name of a non-Japanese woman. From other evidence, we deduced it was the Filipina (ex)girlfriend's name. Other evidence, namely being, a few pictures professing her love to Noriko's uncle (with names) and a couple of letters from the lady to the uncle that were written from the Yokohama Immigration Detention center. We don't even know if this lady is in Japan, in jail in Japan, or somewhere else. I also found some kind of folded up packet of a powder hidden in the robes of the saint. We put it back, not knowing what it was (drugs? remains?).

Noriko called Immigration to find out about the lady and to ask what we should do with all the "stuff." They didn't know. They said to call the police and tell them we had the remains of an unknown baby and that it wasn't ours. A huge argument followed between the police and Noriko. The claimed they couldn't accept a baby's ashes. Noriko's main argument was that if she found a wallet, they would take it. Instead, she found a dead baby with the names of the parents and they didn't want anything to do with it. Finally, a couple of officers on mopeds dropped by to check out the scene. They suggested taking the stuff that wasn't "ours" back to the hospital.

That's what we did, but I still can't help but wonder, "What the &^%%?"

This is a picture of the Catholic saint that was in the bag. Anybody know the name? I found the strange packet of material inside the gown. Notice, it's also wearing a bracelet. It's probably for somebody else that died.

206

For those of you that tuned in to see the ongoing accounts of Troy-San's trip to Japan, I'm sorry, but you'll have to come back later.

I attended my first Japanese funeral yesterday and would like to talk about it a little bit. I'm not sure how much or what to say, because a lot happened and my senses are still digesting all the stimuli.

So, a couple of days ago, Noriko's estranged uncle passed away. I never met the man (estranged) but apparently he'd been sick with cancer for some time. After the hospital called, J-Mom wanted to see him before he was removed to the morgue. Noriko and I took her to the hospital. We got there about an hour after he passed. He was only 43 but he looked like a man in his late sixties.

The next day, we met with some other members of the extended family and had a small wake for him. There were ten of us and this first consisted of going up to the closed container, bowing, lighting incense, ringing a bell, and bowing again. Next, they opened the refrigerated container and slid out the open-faced coffin. After that, in turn, and then as a group, we took flowers from a box and placed them around his head and body. In my life, so far, this is the most interaction I've had with a deceased person. Finally, J-Mom put a white cloth over his face and the workers put the lid on.

We then left in a four car convoy (the hearse and J-Mom were in the front) and headed to the crematory. This was a pretty large building and it appear to be made of granite. It sort of felt like a modern castle. Some workers unloaded the coffin and wheeled inside on a cart. We followed them to a long narrow room with a bay of doors lining one side. If anyone remembers when crew of the Enterprise launched Mr. Spock out of the airlocks for a funeral in space, this was the feeling I had. The elevator-like doors opened and the coffin was transferred some kind of rack and as the doors closed, we all bowed again. We then retired to a waiting room on the second floor. We had beverages and a couple of snacks. About an hour and a half later, we were called back downstairs.

We entered a sideroom and in the middle was huge cast-iron gurney. On top of it, was what I quickly determined to be the uncle's earthly remains. Two attendants came in and stood at each end. On one end was an urn and at the other was a container of hashi (chopsticks). In my state of taking the day's events in, it just occurred to me that this was the part I had only read about in guidebooks. The hashi-attendant handed out the chopsticks and we made two lines along opposite sides of the metal gurney that was still radiating immense heat. In pairs, each team would pick up a bone and place it into the urn. For clarity, that would be two people, four chopsticks, and one bone. Like I said earlier, I was already beyond my previous experiences with laying out several flowers around the body. Now, I was actually "handling" the remains. It was a humbling experience? I'm not sure if that's the right word, but it definitely causes one to think about one's place in the world.

When I first saw the remains and the bones and the chopsticks, my brain was a little slow to process what I've read about in guidebooks and connect that with what I was now faced with. I didn't know whether to stand back, under the guise that I'm not really family, or to get right in line. Finally, being last, I was paired up with J-Mom's cousin (Tokuji-san's and Tomoko-san's brother). He waited patiently while J-Mom called me over, "Jory-san! O-hashi! O-hashi!" The slight reluctance on my part was not that I didn't know what chopsticks were or what I was supposed to do with them. I quickly took my spot across from Shinji-san and looked down at the remains. Most of them were unrecognizable fragments but a few were still identifiable as ribs. I was more worried about "Which bone do I grab? Will I drop it? Will it be heavy?" than with the macabre side of things. Thankfully, Shinji-san picked out the bone and waited for me. I gingerly placed my o-hashi around it and together we dropped it in the urn.

After everyone had a turn, the attendant (the attendants were more dressed like bus drivers or tour guides than in the black three piece suits that I kind of expected) brushed the rest of the remains into the urn. He then produced a pestle and packed everything in a little tighter. He picked up the urn and walked over to another setting and placed it next to a couple of other bones that had been separated from the group. J-Mom, J-Pop, Noriko, and Tokuji-san followed him to the table. A couple of people completely vacated the room, Tomoko-san and two other ladies lingered by the door, and I just kind of stood halfway between the final goings on and the door. The attendant pointed out what the bones were and then placed them in the urn. The final piece was part of the cranium. After the lid was secure, the urn was wrapped in a cloth and then placed in a decorative box.

The cars were brought around front and we headed to dinner. I was still in a little shock from all of the new things I had seen. But to everyone else, it was just a normal funeral. We had our own room at a seafood restaurant that specialized in a variety of crab dishes and occasionally my eyes drifted to the box in the corner. After dinner, I carried the box out to the car. I can't tell you how worried I was that I'd drop it or that the paper handle on the bag it was in would break.

That's all. We put it on a little table where we'll be burning incense all the time and in a few weeks, all of us/some of us/I will be going to Kanazawa where the remains will stay at that side of the family's temple.

NOTE: I wanted to share this experience, because, in the West, as mourners, we don't handle the body. Sure, there are the times when a grieving spouse/child/parent will cling on to and hug the loved one, but rarely is it a group activity. I just wanted to be able to describe the above parts of a Japanese funeral in its context. After participating in the moving of the bones to the urn I decided that I had to know why this was done. Most sources just say its part of the Buddhist ceremony. I wanted to know why is it part of the ceremony? What is its significance? If I'm going to be handling the bones, I want to know why. Also, if I'm going to be telling this story, invariably, people will ask me, "Why?" And there will be a few, "That is completely wrong/disgusting/crazy/bizarre." I just wanted to present the whole rite in context and then with some background.

I finally found one source, online, that tried to explain a little of the human side:

Even though this part of the ceremony is emotionally difficult for some people, particularly children, and many Westerners might find it somewhat distasteful, Japanese consider it a significant part of the ritual of death. Yujiro Yamanaka calls it “an important stage of saying good-bye.
It touches on the whole social meaning of the funeral he said. From the dead person's viewpoint, this is the ceremony where they are taken care of, held by their family and close friends. And for the living, we really know he has turned to ashes and bones. If you do this with your chopsticks, it really forces you to feel what has happened to your beloved.
The association with death is the reason Japanese never pass food to each other directly from one set of chopsticks to another.

http://www.cremationassociation.org/html/article-japanese.html


I also sent out a few emails to Japanese friends (that have a good grasp on English) and one sent me:

It is said that there is a river called Sanzu no kawa between our world (living human world) and dead world (heaven/ hell). The dead have to cross this river and it is called Hashi watashi (crossing river).
When we pass the bones into the urn after the cremation, we make a pair and pass the bone with chopsticks made with bamboo and other tree (using different kind of chopsticks, they divided into our world and dead world). This is also called Hashi watashi (chopsticks crossing). So, the bereaved family does Hashi watashi and wish the dead person can cross the Sanzu no kawa safely.
Also it contains the meaning that the bereaved family could divide their sadness into pieces by doing it with other people and pray for the dead to go to the other world.

When we put the bone into urn, we put the foot bone first and head last because it helps the dead stand.

Did it help your understanding about Japanese funerals? I hope that you could understand my English. Everything has meaning and it comes from sincerity and respect others.

I don't know about you, but I feel better.

Toroi-San in Japan: Part 2

If Troy had been worried that I didn't have a full day planned, he would've been dead wrong. In fact, he was almost dead after our full day. We both were. About a week before coming to Kyoto, I used a free guidebook and a book I brought from home called Hiking in Japan. Using these two sources, I planned out a great day hike for us. I linked up a couple of walking routes from the free book with a hike from the other one. We'd see about 5 temples and hike up to the top of Daimonji Mountain. Our return route, down the mountain, would drop us off back near the beginning. If you could just see the map, it would make perfect sense.

The first site we stopped at was Kiyomizu-dera. Sure, this place is an important place as far as important places go. I'm sure there are several stories about several important people that have been here or that did something. But, I like this place because it kind of reminds me of the place where Bruce Wayne learned ninjutsu in Tibet, in the film, Batman Begins.

Next, we headed out for the Philosopher's Path. This path is mainly a walkway next to a little river that essentially makes up the easternmost north-south boundary of Kyoto's main tourist area. Since I'd been to Kyoto before, I didn't take many pictures as most of them would have been repeats of the last time. Even though he had never been here, Troy didn't take too many, either.

After the first leg of our trip (the non-mountainous leg), we took a break and had some ice cream from a vending machine. I then produced the fabulous Hiking in Japan. I've had this book for about 4 years and I was excited to finally get to use it. It contains step by step, landmark by landmark, instructions for hiking trips all over Japan. It should be titled Forcedmarching in Japan. It took us up the trail with little problem. The banner that's equivalent to our "Only you can prevent forestfires." was moved (I've always thought that temporary landmarks like banners or homeless people should be avoided. They're not always in the same place day after day or year after year). We also kept seeing the elderly coming down the trail. This motivated us in that it must not be too far or too hard.

At some point, on the way to the summit, Troy admitted that most of his deathmarch-style walks have been on flat pavement. Actually, I don't know if it was an admission or a realization. We also encountered some really "nice" concrete staircases, near the top.

Above is an accidental near-panoramic view of the Kyoto area from Daimonji-yama. Until now, neither of us knew just what a sprawling mess Kyoto was. In the fall, people light huge bonfires in the shape of Japanese characters on several of the mountainsides that border Kyoto. I think the fires are supposed to help remind spirits which way heaven is. We didn't know it yet, but we could've used some bonfires to direct us back down the mountain.

We took our lunch at the bonfire spot and took in the view. We rested his knees and my pinky toes. Oh, I forgot to mention his knees? The climb to the top and the subsequent staircases were hell on his knees. Additionally, he had only recently recovered from an aikido-related knee injury. My problems were just the opposite. Walking on a flat surface, severely exacerbated my blisters. Climbing and descending used a different part of my feet. Since, I've been climbing/descending since I came to Japan, that wasn't a problem. Up and down, I'd speed up and Troy would fall behind. On level areas, Troy would speed up and I'd fall back. Our team, instead of exhibiting our strengths was exhibiting our weaknesses.

The guidebook (See picture above) from The Ornery Planet series, instructed as to continue on to the true summit and then down a trail on the other side. After a few false summits, we finally began to descend. It was fairly easygoing until we entered the treeline. There were several little sidetrails. The book mentioned a few of them. As for the rest, we just took the one most traveled. We still saw the occasional fresh-looking hiker meeting us.

HOW THE BOOK FAILED US (or how I failed as a mountain trail guide)

According to the book, we were supposed to follow these little yellow-painted, concrete markers. We found our first one and it seemed like the book couldn't go wrong. After all, you can't just dig up 500 markers and move them (like you could a homeless guy or banner). Another good sign was that they headed down the mountain, toward Kyoto. The book was clear, when the trail forked or at an intersection, "Follow the yellow markers." Three times, we lost the marker. We'd turn around and find some yellow or red tape on some trees and follow them until we found another yellow marker. A couple of times, we weren't even on a trail. As we would slide down a steep, dirty incline, we'd wonder out loud how those two, clean, fresh-looking guys, thirty minutes earlier, made it up this part. A few times, Troy (lightheartedly?) threatened my life.

Above, you can see what Troy saw. I kept this distance because Troy's 6' 6" tall. He has an amazing reach. At this distance, he can't get me. Notice that I've got our trusty guidebook in hand.

We persevered and as the sounds of the city grew louder, we grew more relaxed. Our mountain path dumped us out in about the middle of The Philosopher's Path. This spot was way off course. Amazingly, we followed yellow markers all the way to the bottom. The markers took us through an electric fence, too. Troy said, "What does that sign say?" I was tired and quickly snapped, "Troy, I don't read Japanese!" As I started to grab the wire (it looked like a plastic strap), Troy said, "No! Don't touch it!" I decided to take a look at the sign and sure enough, there was the kanji for "electricity," the Japanese word for "danger," and a sketch of a hand touching a wire with sparks all about it.

We came out through small graveyard and stepped over a surprised street vendor and headed home. Along the street, Troy's pace picked up and my hobble returned.

I finally put bandaids on each of my little toes. After a full day of walking, though, the blister simply started to come out from under the bandaid. It's been eight days and my little toes still hurt. Troy took great satisfaction that my toes were killing me as much as his knees were him. It reminds me of a time when Phil (a sometime sufferer of kneepain) squealed in pleasure once when some knee pain slowed me down on a hike. What's wrong with people?

Toroi-San in Japan: Part 1

March 30th to April 9th, a friend of mine from Oklahoma came to visit me in Japan. He flew into Osaka, took a bus to Kyoto, took another bus to Yokohama, and then took a train to Yokosuka. What follows is an account of that trip. None of the names or places have been changed.

I took the train from Yokosuka to Yokohama. Four people later, I found the departure point in downtown Yokohama. I had a hard time following Noriko's walking map and about twice doors and gates on my route had already been close and locked for the night. The bus itself drove on the tollway and stopped every two hours at rest stops. Finally, seven hours later, I stepped off the allnight bus at 6a.m. and Kyoto welcomed me with near freezing temperatures and snow. All I had was a fleece jacket, a knit cap, and a decorative handkerchief. The above picture is the view the early morning citizens had. It didn't help that, in addition to lack of sleep, I had a severe head cold, a wet hacking cough, and was shivering.

I had about 7 hours to kill while I waited on Troy's plane to land in Osaka and for him to successfully book a bus ride from the airport to Kyoto Station. I decided to do a little recon and find the two guesthouses we'd be staying at and check out an early morning aikido class at the Kyoto Budo Center (See other blog for details about that!). A little recon= I walked one hour and couldn't find the first guesthouse so I walked about 30 more minutes to the Budo Center. I then had to wait about an hour and a half until the class started. This didn't improve my various ailments and conditions.

After the aikido class, I headed out to find the other guesthouse. I found the street, turned around once, consulted the map, realized if I'd just walked about 100 more feet their sign would've come into view, turned around and found it. I started to develop a new problem during this 4th hour of almost nonstop walking- blisters on my little toes! It was about noon and they told me check-in was at 3. I left my backpack and headed out again to get to know the area a little bit and kill some time (and worsen the condition of my toes).

2:30 pm found me outside the Gojo Guesthouse, eating a snack from the 99yen store and watching my wristwatch. By this time, I had developed a limp in my right foot. I started to wonder why I mailed myself these shoes when I first left Oklahoma. Three o'clock finally showed itself and I checked in.

The best I can tell, a guesthouse and a (youth) hostel might be the same creature. It's cheaper than a hotel and the sink, bathrooms, and baths (if they have them) are communal. Many times you share a room with strangers. We had reserved a private room for two. The Gojo House being my first experience with one, I didn't know what to expect. It was a decent little room and reminded me of the kind of room I had seen many times in samurai movies. All it lacked was a bottomless sake bottle and a "geisha." I knew Troy would like it. As soon as I checked in, I pulled the futon out of the closet, cranked up the heat, and passed out.

Three hours later, the batphone rang. Troy was in Osaka and would be in Kyoto in less than two hours. I assured him that I'd be at the station and we said our goodbyes. Once outside, I spotted

Kyoto Tower, which is directly in front of Kyoto Station. I walked (my limp was gone for the time being) the twenty minutes to the station and tried to figure out where his bus would land. His ETA came. His ETA left. I lingered around the end of the station where I could see the sign "Airport Limousine Buses." I even saw an empty bus with "Airport Bus" written on the side. Still, there was no sign of Troy. I walked back down one side of the station. I walked back up the same side. This searching (wandering around) went on for about 90 minutes. I made about ten circuits of the stationhouse.My limp had returned and I had no idea where Troy was. He finally got through to me on my cellphone:

"Jory-san!"

"Hey Troy! Where are you?"

"I'm where the bus left me."

"Are you in the station? Can you see McDonalds? Go there!"

"No! The bus left me on some street. I can't see McDonalds. I got cold so I went inside this hotel to have a Coke and warm up."

"Hotel? You can't see the station? It's a really big building that says KYOTO STATION."

We finally found each other. The bus dropped him off on the side of the street away from the station. Of course, he had no idea what he should be looking for. There were large buildings all around him. He did the first thing anybody is supposed to do when they realize they are lost. Stay put!

Since I knew where the hotel- err guesthouse was, there was no need to get a taxi. We promptly set out on foot and I lead this stranger in a strange land to his first night in Japan.

Gojo Guest House: http://www.gojo-guest-house.com/gojo-guest-house/gojo-e.html