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).