Home again, home again, jiggity-jig.

It was a balmy 6 degrees as we boarded the plane at Narita (around 7:45pm local time), rather bracing for someone dressing for Australia's late-spring.

Method to our madness - wear them out before the 9 hour flight.

Aside from some fear-inducing turbulence somewhere north of Guam (the on-screen flight-path had us reassuringly over an ocean trench at the time), the 8000 kilometre, 9 hour flight went reasonably well. We were once again joined by scores of Japanese school kids (aren't they ever in the classroom?). Lily tested out the complimentary air-sick bags, Hamish tossed and turned, while Josh slept blissfully away.

Welcome to Australia ladies and gentlemen.

On the walk from the plane to our hire car we passed around a half-dozen coffee shops - all advertising multiple varieties of heated coffee. Clearly, we are a blessed country. The rental car was sandwiched between a pair of cars so snuggly that I had to scoot across the passenger seat to reach the wheel (it was either that or attempt a Dukes of Hazzard window-entry).

My 7 minutes of sleep caught up with me somewhere around Kensington, so I handed the driving duties to Jenny and reacquainted myself with Australian radio. The running commentary normally heard coming from the back seat was conspicuously absent - all three kiddies deep in slumber.

Our journey's final leg gave me plenty of time to reflect on the past month or so.

I could rave about the pockets of beauty (be it a Zen garden, or cold, clean water cascading into a Koi-filled pond, perhaps a Shinto Shrine - older than the West) nestled among the grim urban landscape. I could also describe the sea of tradition and sense of selflessness that permeates the culture. Maybe talk about the vast changes in both landscape and the people across the islands. While I could do those things, I shall instead give some snap-shots of individual significance.

• Tattoos - practically non-existent - even the desperately heavy-metal hospitality staff at the Hard Rock Cafe were ink-free. 
• Pocky - our constant companion.
• Cigarettes - societal acceptance is somewhere around where Australia was in the 80s (vending machines, advertising, restaurants, etc).
• Their toilets vary from ceramic holes in the ground (sans toilet paper), to electronic, automated marvels that will practically make you a sandwich.
• Grapes - theirs taste like Grape-flavoured Hubba Bubba - a concentrated version of itself.
• You should consider stopping at railway crossings in Japan. Seriously.
• TV - it is madness. It is madness that has been given red cordial and then stayed up way too late. I loved it.
• They are pushy, yet polite drivers. Hesitate, and they will swarm past you. Cut them off, and they will display no frustration/anger at all. It appears they have removed emotion from their driving entirely.
• Bowing will get you everywhere - even their road signs have people doing it.
• They will meticulously carve fruit into delicate works of art, yet their coffee tastes like the back of a postage stamp - and not a nice-tasting stamp.
• They wear surgical masks in public to avoid giving other people germs if they are unwell.
• Conservation of space. They make extraordinary use of what little they have, and then grow some veges for good measure.
• Dress sense - on the one hand, their svelte frames just go with their tailored suits and heels, but on the other - plush-toy beanies.
• Pedestrian crossings - if there isn't a traffic light involved, do not expect the cars to slow down. I think they are more for the motorists, a kind of, "Watch out for people running for their lives - here".
• Bean paste - found in pretty much everything. Fortunately, it grows on you.
• Honesty - people trust other people. Things that would be taken despite being bolted-down in Australia are left out over-night, safe in the knowledge that it will be there in the morning. 
• Raccoon Dogs - just because.

Sayonara Nihon

The late check-out was used to the fullest (pastries purchased, coffee bought) before taking the Disney Resort Line one last time before transferring to the JR Line. I managed to sneak a piccie of a dad in touch with his youthful side on our way to the Station.

I don't know about you,
but I think he needs more
small, plush toys on his bag.

We managed to avoid taking the wrong subway line into suburban obscurity, and onto something claiming to be headed for Narita Airport. A lady on a seat across from us gestured some questions regarding the kids ages (clearly gushing over kids via pantomime is fine, but quiet conversation would be crossing some commuter-etiquette line).

We are likely not going to miss the oh-so-simple subway system.

True to its word, the Narita Airport express deposited us at Terminal 2 - right on schedule. We just made it in time.... to wait 2 hours for check-in. Plenty of time for one final box of Pocky before Customs.

Oh Pocky, how I shall miss thee.

Bags are checked in, Customs is cleared, last-minute Manga - purchased. All that is left before touching down in Sydney is a paltry 7-8 hour flight, overnight, with kids.

Awesome.

Nightingales and Teddy Bears

Some Japanese shrines and palaces used intentionally-squeaky floorboards (known as Nightingale floors) as a type of security-system. It was nigh on impossible to cross these without them chirping away.

The good folk at the Tokyo Bay Hilton appeared to have unintentionally recreated this effect with their 'Japanese Room' and the deliberately-raised timber/tatami flooring (not to mention the wafer-thin futons and jockey-sized showers). We selected this melodious back-breaker amongst a Hotel full of comfy beds, as it was the only one that could cater for the vast numbers that is the Martin family (apart from booking out the executive floor I'd wager). 

The storm-front of yesterday had grumbled its way out into the Pacific, leaving a bright but frost-bitten day in its wake. People were already thick on the ground at the entrance to Disney Sea, and again the full-blown costumery was in evidence by many in attendance. There does not appear to be any drive to present oneself as overtly-masculine or 'tough' in Japanese males during their down-time - Minnie Mouse polka-dot bows and over-sized plush toy beanies appeared to be the order of the day, along with thousands of pale-brown teddy bears. This relaxed approach to fun and childish accessories on the weekend stands out all the more in light of their wall-to-wall pinstripe business suits and seriousness while in 'work mode'. I confess some admiration over their lack of embarrassment while draping themselves in anything they consider kawai. Don't expect me to turn up to the shops with Donald Duck on my head however. 

Josh was hugely excited with the prospect of seeing Mickey once again. Fortunately, we happened upon him travelling by on a boat doing a show, and were able to wave furiously. The wait otherwise would have been just shy of 3 hours for the opportunity to say hi. 

Mermaid Lagoon (think Little Mermaid vibe) became increasingly popular with the crowds - located mainly indoors and equipped with heating did not seem to hurt that popularity. It was very much aimed at the kiddies, who somehow managed to endure 40 minute waits for 30 second rides with good humour (yes, even Josh).

King Neptune getting all Christmassy

The Arabian Coast part of the park was finished with remarkable detail, bazaars and middle-eastern architecture (albeit Disney-fied) abounded.

Martins - with camel.

The Arabian Coast also included a double-storied Carousel. We somehow managed to get a ride for twice the length of the normal duration. The operators were clearly explaining at length the reason for this - we in turn just as clearly had no idea what they were going on about. Josh was desperate to ride on the elephant, and fortunately for all in the vicinity - we managed to secure one, equipped with a seatbelt no less!

The more we saw of Disney Sea, the more impressed we became. For us, it wipes the floor with Disney Land - care and thought put into every detail of the enormous place. So popular was it that they actually stopped more people coming in.

Yes, there is an ocean liner in the park.

The Fast-pass (pre-reserving a time) line for the Indiana Jones Adventure ride still had quite a lengthy queue, but seeing as it shaved approximately 120 minutes off the wait - I'd call these things relative. The ride was hands-down my favourite - hurtling along in the dark in an oversized jeep with all sorts of creepy-crawlies jumping out at you just screams (literally) fun.

It's okay - Indie will save us.

Lily became theatrically-fearful enough in the line for the Raging Spirits ride that one of the nice attendants whispered to her 'It's not that scary' as we got into our securely locked-in seats. After some plunges and even a complete loop, I'd have to agree - it was fortunately not a patch on that blasted Hollywood Dream from Universal Studios.

Despite outward appearances, not that bad.

The fairly generic-looking teddy bear I had spied earlier was everywhere - more people lugging him about /wearing him on their heads than even the Big Mouse himself. I became obsessed with tracking down just who this usurper was, and why had I never laid eyes on it before in my life.

The little blighter's name was Duffy, and the story goes that he is a gift from Minnie to Mickey (aww). Virtually unknown elsewhere in the world (or at least as far as I'm aware), he has received saturation-promotion in Asia - and at Tokyo Disney Sea in particular. They love him, queuing for hours just to get into stores selling more of his merchandise.

The queue wants their Duffy.

You are even able to buy popcorn buckets in the shape of Duffy's head. I was tempted to ask some of the devotees plunging their hands into Duffy's cranium why they were eating his braaaaains. On the sage advice of Jen (as well as the fear of being asked to leave the Magic Kingdom), I kept my observations to myself.

One Duffy-head of Milk Tea Popcorn please!

The varieties of popcorn was bordering on excessive: Sea salt and even caramel I understand, but there was also apple & cinnamon, black pepper, strawberry and curry on offer. Even greater was the variety of plastic popcorn containers that attendees had brought along with them - you could purchase cheap re-fills....as long as it was a Disney container.

The sun started going down at around 4:30 pm, and what little of the days warmth went with it. We were on the Tokyo Bay side of the park, and the wind had an icy feel - so naturally we queued for the water-based Aquatopia ride. Despite our chattering teeth, we had a blast (Joshie giggling hysterically).

Aquatopia at sunset.

We started to wind up our day as the temperature dropped well down into single digits, and made our way towards the entrance of the park. As we did so, we passed lines of rugged-up attendees queuing for a photo in front of a fairly run-of-the-mill Christmas tree. We also picked up some flashy Disney-related baubles (various incarnations of Mickey's head on a string, blinking festively).

Caught up in the consumerist vibe, we entered the souvenir shop to see what we could find. Having been in a Tokyo subway at peak hour, I can now say (with at least some authority) that peak hour had nothing on this. The closest approximation would be a well-behaved mosh-pit. I expected a Border Collie to go racing over the top of peoples heads to herd them at any moment - shoppers in a sheep-like trance, filling their baskets vaguely. At one point I had a series of people bump off me multiple times before realising I wasn't moving, and then going around me with vacant looks on their faces. There were a handful of quasi-police smiling inanely, too much crowd for them to control. We squeezed/bull-dozed our way out of the shop and did a quick head-count of the Martin clan. Looking at the queues of folk at all of the other shops nearby, we decided to head for the exit gates.

Tomorrow is our final day in Japan, with a reasonably leisurely morning followed by a late departure from Narita Airport (around 7:50 pm). The aim is to chronicle this - but will be at the mercy of the airport's Wi-Fi once more.

The rain on the plain falls mainly on the train.

There was a return of sick-Joshie overnight, but he appeared to be on the improve at breakfast. Our nicotine-laden taxi back to Hakata Train Station did not do him any favours however. When we were but 100 metres away from our destination - Josh started wailing and pouting in distress - clear signs that a revisiting of his breakfast was mere moments away. I was mortified that he would ruin the inside of this poor man's taxi, so started motioning to the kerb, opening the door and pantomiming Josh being physically sick. The taxi driver, in turn - gestured to where the arrival point was, only metres away now. I was essentially skiing alongside the taxi on the wet bitumen as it came to a stop, flinging open Joshies door and hauling him out. We just made it - the finally comprehending (and very grateful) taxi driver even helped us clean the little fellow up. Clearly - things did not bode well for the journey ahead.

One of the trains we've been dawdling along on.

Somehow - we managed to procure 5 seats (an entire row) on an Non-reserved carriage. I think the very obliging nature of the Japanese folk may have resulted in them taking the non-reserved carriage-label seriously - it appears far more relaxed and the background chatter is such that we are no longer drawing attention to ourselves.

I finally managed to sample some Calpis (one of the odd things on my 'to do' list) - a popular, yet horrendously-named drink. The taste of Calpis? The nearest description I can muster is a flat lemonade ice-cream soda (or lemonade spider for the Australians amongst us). Not bad at all - but looks like watery milk.

Make mine a Calpis!
Happy Refresh!

The leg to Shin-Osaka was delightfully uneventful (apart from a sleeping Joshies sweaty head leaving a dubious damp spot on Jen's pants), and we were contemplating grabbing some lunch when we noticed another Shinkansen heading off to Tokyo within the next 5 minutes. I sagely reasoned that we could purchase our lunch on board, as all of the Shinkansen trains to date have provided options for meals. As we congratulated ourselves on such a smooth train transition, the english version of the PA message advised us that this particular line did not have a food trolley. Awesome. While there was Grape Fanta and canned coffee galore (huzzah) in the vending machine, we had but a packet of Ritz crackers to sustain all of us until Tokyo - half of Honshu away.

Electronic devices were the order of the day, and I was able to chart the passing of an enormous band of cloud - right over Tokyo. It was evening when we pulled into Tokyo Station, and the sodden, bedraggled folk wandering into the Station from outside was evidence of the intensity of the rainfall.

Hamish
 - communicating through grunts and hand-gestures.

Josh
 - improved and App-ing.

We smoothly transferred to the Keiyo Line like seasoned professionals, getting off at Maihama Station (stop for Disney Land etc) - where we spied more half-drowned commuters. As we weren't staying in  the Happiest Place on Earth, we boarded the Disney Resort Line to make the final leg to our Hotel. Things immediately started taking on that good old Disney surreality, with the train featuring Mickey-shaped windows and hand-hold hoops.

One of those hand-hold loopy things.

Mickey-shaped train windows.
Josh is impressed.

The good news is that despite the torrents of rain cascading down as we arrived at our Hotel - the online weather-folk assure us it will be a sunny day tomorrow when we venture into Disney Sea. I for one am thrilled by the prospect of lines several hours long.

Take me out to the Sumo.

While we anticipated a reasonable spread at breakfast at the Hilton, we didn't reckon on the scale of the operation. There was the pastry district, and the cereal neighbourhood. One long-suffering chef was permanently stationed to do nothing but prepare your eggs just the way you like them. There were varieties of bacon for goodness sake.

Somewhat appropriately (given our itinerary), we waddled out to the taxi taking us to the Fukuoka Kokusai Centre - where we were to spend a day watching Sumo Wrestling. It turns out the more renowned wrestlers don't make an appearance until early afternoon - nor do the crowds, so we watched the lower-ranked Rikishi (athlete - although I use the term loosely) in a mostly-empty centre.

The dohyo.

Essentially, the objective is to either throw your opponent out of the dohyo (the sumo ring) or to have them touch the ground with anything other than their feet. It appears that there are no weight limits involved, so wrestlers can find themselves facing someone twice their size.

Attempting to grab each other's belts - possibly to give a wedgie.

There is a huge amount of ceremony involved, with the gyoji (referee) dressed in a fairly flashy Kamakura Period kimono. They sing out the names of the combatants, who then face off in a fairly lengthy series of posturing/glaring manoeuvres. The rikishi will grab handfuls of salt from special containers at the corners of the dohyo, and then cast it into the ring for good luck. Eventually, they crouch down and rest on their knuckles - before slamming into each other with a force that would make a Rugby League player wince.  

I'm pretty sure they don't have a flattering angle.

The Juryo-grade and then the Makuuchi-grade rikishi made an appearance, again with much pomp and ceremony. Greased top-knots appeared to be the order of the day, as were some serious-looking aprons called kesho-mawashi. The crowd swelled, and some of the audience members became (relatively) vocal. 

Maku-uchi Rikishi

Finally, the yokozuna (the highest level there is) makes an appearance, flanked by his sword-bearer and attendant (his posse in young-persons speak). The yokozuna can never go back down in the rankings, but 'retire' if they start losing tournaments. I've never seen athletes work up a sweat just making their way out to the centre before.

Yokozuna - about to foot-slam the demons out of the ring.

We returned to the Sea Hawk Hotel for Josh to take a well-earned rest, while Hamish joined me for a stroll on the nearby beach. It was clearly not weather for swimming, but we managed to take a few photos on our travels.

Mr Hamish

Sea Hawk

After gently teasing Lily about Hamish and I playing in a non-existent playground (as well as riding on a unicorn for good measure), I took the two bigger kiddies to the Sotokoto Relaxation Club. While the pool/sauna/jacuzzi/etc is located within the Hotel, you still need to pay a sizeable fee and make a reservation to gain entrance. We dared to make a reservation for 'right now', and managed to squeeze in. The sole other person in the place high-tailed it out of there when he saw us arrive - leaving it entirely to us. The kids rather enjoyed the pool (as much for it being named 'Bun Bun' as for any other reason), while I found the spa and saunas (Gobi, Kalahari and Sahara - a real scorcher) more my style. We had a lovely time, but I for one was pleased to be out of the mandatory (and constrictive) bathing cap - looking more like a Jewish skullcap on my over-sized noggin.

In the midst of some vigorous 'discussion' between Martin parents and children - on our way to nowhere in particular, we noticed people streaming into the Fukuoka/Yahoo! Dome. We had missed the domestic Baseball season, so had given up on catching a game while in Japan - only to have a Japan Vs Cuba game present itself to us mid-debate. It was a great night - the crowd beating small plastic bats together, singing along to some fanfare provided by a dozen or more trumpeters whipping themselves into a polite frenzy.

The closable dome was greatly appreciated on a rather chilly evening.

An unfortunate couple located directly in front of us was not getting into the spirit of things as much as the rest of the stadium (particularly the over-zealous Martin-trio). They eventually made a hasty retreat to some seats higher up, and away from the noisy Australians.

Increasingly surrounded by empty seats.

Nip-pon! Nip-pon!

To go along with the standard greasy fare offered at any sporting event, they also had people with kegs of Asahi on their backs wandering through the crowd - cheerfully filling your cup without you leaving your seat. Truly, this is an advanced country.

Kampai!

The Japan Samurai's downed Cuba to top off a fantastic evening. Tomorrow is expected to entail some miserable weather, with the added twist of being unable to reserve seats for the 5 and a half hour Shinkansen trip to Tokyo. What could possibly go wrong?

You say Fukuoka, I say Hakata...

The little old lady and the man from the kitchen waved us off from Momijiso (somewhat perplexed that we would walk down to the Pier, fully-laden with backpacks). We were way-laid for a 'brief' tourist survey just shy of the Ferry terminal itself - copping the uninterrupted sea breeze in the process. With a mild case of hypothermia, we eventually caught the ferry across to Miyajimaguchi Station - where I expertly directed us to the northern carpark (I underpassed when I should have overpassed).

The Shinkansen from Hiroshima took about an hour to reach Hakata Station in Fukuoka. That's the odd  thing about Fukuoka - a large portion of the city's infrastructure is named after the Hakata side of town, even though the overall place is called Fukuoka. 

It turns out there was a meeting held in 1889 to determine the name of the city formed from the merging of the two bordering towns. Hakata was the clear choice by all present initially, as it was the most tied to the areas culture and was the commercial hub. A group of Samurai from Fukuoka turned up however, and promptly 'swayed' the selection in Fukuoka's favour (sword mightier than the pen in this instance).

We went in search of a late lunch, and ended up wandering through (gargantuan backpacks and all) several floors of a well-to-do department store adjoining Hakata Station before finding some ridiculously saucy hamburgers in its lower levels.

Thanks to a helpful lady at the JR Ticketing Station (as well as the Google Translate she was using), we were advised that the bus we wanted was the 306. My navigational prowess from Miyajimaguchi continued, directing us off the bus about two stops early (in my defence, it looked close - and this particular bus was devoid of any English). Not having lugged our bags enough apparently, we made our final hike to the Hilton Sea Hawk.

The blade-like Hilton Fukuoka
(its edge pointing out to sea).

There was a nagging sense of 'do we belong in a place like this?' as we made our way into the impressive entrance. A rag-tag bunch of backpackers in crumpled travel clothes negotiating our way past scores of pin-striped businessmen in various shades of importance.

Fortunately we weren't shown the door, and our room allows us views over Fukuoka/Hakata/whatever, as well as what appears to be an accessible and sandy beach.

The beds get Joshie's approval.

Some honest to goodness sand, next door to the Yahoo! Dome
(has a certain ring to it don't you think?)

View to the east - I think.

We somewhat predictably descended upon the local Hard Rock Cafe - the tunes on this occasion including everything from System of a Down to Pat Benatar in her shoulder-shaking hey-day. The Martin parents partook of a couple of cocktails, mine the Windex-blue Electric Iced Tea, Jen's the sugary-fruit experience that is Riders of the Storms.

A little too conveniently located.

Looking out over the city at night feels a world away from tatami mats and maple-lined Koi ponds of this morning. Both bring the same sense of serenity however - or is that just due to the kids being asleep?

Our plans for tomorrow include watching the subtlety and finesse that is... Sumo wrestling. I shall quite enjoy feeling svelte for a change.

Floating Shrines, Mountain Tops and Oyster soup.

We were bracing the kids for a Japanese breakfast this morning, when we were greeted by Western-style. Joshie ploughed into his toast and jam, Lily and Hamish accumulating moustaches from their hot chocolate. Because any good Western-style breakfast wouldn't be complete without a bowl of Miso soup, we had some of that too (with bonus oysters - a local speciality). One of the resident deer decided to take a gander at us through the window while we ate.

By the time we got ready for the day, and actually step foot outside - the hordes of day-trippers had returned.

View from one of our windows.

Momijiso Ryokan

Navigating through the crowds of people climbing up the hill, we made our way down - as an amateurish-looking website assured us that high tide would be at 9:50 am. We passed some more deer on the way, as well as some ludicrously red maples.

Baby deer -
looking put out we don't have anything it can munch on.

Hypothermia waiting to happen.

Turns out Amateur Web Person was right - both the Torii and Temple itself were partially submerged by the tidal peak. The Shrine had water lapping over its walk-ways, and was not open to the public until the waters receded a little (some of the monks clearing the water off the entrance-way with brooms).

Water frontage, over-zealousness.

Less tourists and camera-crews both.

Icy sea-breeze accounting for chattering teeth a rosy noses.

A little more sensibly placed from a rising-damp point of view, a five-tiered Pagoda overlooked both the Torii and the Temple.

Having had our fill of both the Temple grounds and the stiff onshore breeze, we wandered back up the hill, past Momijiso and to the bottom station of the Rope-way to Mt Misen.

The cars on this rope-way seemed tiny - a maximum occupancy number set at between 6-8 (the upper figure clearly not taking larger western builds in mind). The cable stretched on for what seemed to be an age, before finally reaching the transfer station (saving us an hour or two of mountain climbing in the process). We then moved onto a larger car - with a sardine-like maximum occupancy of 30 people. The conductor appeared to be a fan of canned seafood. Nose to glass - we made our way to the top station of Mt Misen.

That is one looong expanse of cable.
Plus - Rainbows!

Beyond that water (Sea of Japan) lies Hiroshima

We took a peek at the viewpoint just up from the Rope-way station. An antlered deer decided to have a bit of a nibble on a lady's bag - and was reluctant to let go. Lily decided to ignite a flame meant for new couples to demonstrate their everlasting fondness for each other. Symbolising her high regard for herself perhaps.

It dawned on us that the actual Mt Misen observation tower was on another (and quite sensibly taller) mountain peak a mere 1 kilometre away. Turns out that kilometre was essentially a series of stone steps and overly-optimistic dirt gradients. We saw signs saying 'Observation tower - 0.3km' on at least three occasions. As we neared our goal, we started passing shrines and holy structures including Reikado Hall. The Hall houses a flame said to have been lit by Kobo Daishi - founding member of one of the sects of Buddhism in Japan - and is still burning (over a thousand years later). The flame from the Hall was used to light the Flame of Peace in Hiroshima's Peace Park.

Kobo Daishi's flame.

Small shrine along the mountain path.

As you near the summit of Mt Misen, the path takes you under a large boulder, known as Duck-under Rock by residents of the Island (and known as Makka Pakka's house by Joshie). The winds were fierce at the summit, but the views were amazing, a lovely back-drop to the clearly ancient statuettes and shrines found here and there. 

There was also a vending machine. I kid you not - these things are everywhere.

The observation deck was a concrete and steel affair - both of which materials had seen better days. Despite the cracks and rust - the thing held together as we briefly popped up for completion's sake (and clearly we had not had sufficient blasts of icy winds to the face).

.

Visitors going a little overboard with their pebble-leavings.

On top of the reasonably-archaic Observation Tower.

The wind started picking up still further, and we could hear some urgent sounding messages coming over the PA from the top cable station. Arriving there with a growing sense of unease, we were waved on to what appeared to be one of the final Rope-way descents running. There was noone in any of the cars coming back up. Once in the teeny car for the lengthy leg of the journey down the mountain - we clearly felt the impact of the winds - with the car rocking a little as we descended (funny how you notice small movements more when suspended far above the tree-line).

It turns out we timed our ascent fairly well - as there would be no more trips up that afternoon.

We wandered down to the town again, lunching at some of the street stalls. We all picked up a beef steamed bun - our enjoyment of said buns appearing to amuse passers-by. There was a guy selling various meat/garnish combinations on sticks, so we thought we'd give that a go too. It turns out all of the options were coating around a crab-meat core. Still - they were both warm and greasy - and so sufficed. Just to complete our lunch of dubious dietary merit - we picked up some Maple Leaf Cakes to go. Miyajima appears to have iconic objects galore - what with the Floating Torii, the Rice Server, the Deer and the Maple Cakes - there is not a square foot of the island that doesn't have the imagery of at least one of these four things on it.

After thawing out in our rooms, we had another lovely meal (including an oyster and rice soup). The little old lady was at it again, standing over any of us who left more than crumbs of a particular dish. Jen bravely hid her pickled vegetables to avoid this scrutiny.

Tomorrow sees us head to Fukuoka - and into a bona fide Hotel. It is very much feeling like the home-stretch now, and we are wondering what walking from late autumn to late spring will feel like.