Tunnels, thatched rooves and gardens.

We departed Takayama under a brilliant blue sky and made the GPS Lady's day (she even sounded chipper) by taking the toll-ways to Shirakawa-go. Instead of winding through snow-dusted mountains, this express-way ploughed through them. We lost count of the tunnels - the last one was over 11 kilometres long.

We spotted an Eneos Station as we entered Shirakawa-Go, and were promptly descended upon by 3 gents who variously filled the tank, wiped the windscreen and shot the breeze with us. The chattiest of the three offered us a map of the Village we were heading to in English - which came in handy.

As we neared the historic area, some seriously-uniformed parking attendants waved us onto our eventual car park with their glowy batons. Due to the clear skies, the distant snow-capped mountains were plain to see - belying the sub-tropical 15 degrees as we stepped out of our Mazda. 

Thatched roof and snow-capped mountain thrown in for good measure.

The Martin clan a little taken aback by all the available sunlight.

Ogimachi Gassho Village (located in Shirakawa-go) is World Heritage listed, and consists of dozens of traditionally-styled farm houses - their thatched roof-lines pitched to shrug off the thick coverage of snow received over winter. Thanks to the trip only taking an hour, many of the thatched roofs were still steaming in the morning sun as we arrived.

A world away from the bleak functionality of North-eastern Hokkaido.

There were a number of family shrines located around the village - often overlooking small vegetable gardens, as well as a large Shrine devoted to Hachiman (who crosses over both Shintoism and Buddhism).

Shirakawa Hachiman Shrine

Each house is typically 3 stories high, and they farm silk-worms in the attic...
those not taken up by the housing of evil twins that is.

As you do in an alpine village, we purchased some ice-cream (hey - the temperature was into double-figures). Quite bizarrely, Jen spotted one Japanese photographer taking a quick shot of us before scurrying off. Those damned paparazzi. 

More to quell the constant goading by the Martin kiddies than any real need for sustenance, I purchased a Hida Beef Bun (a steamed bun with a centre of locally grown beef and gravy) - Japan's answer to the meat pie....only they actually have meat in theirs.

Having had our fill of World Heritage beauty and Hida beef in equal measure, we embarked on the second leg of our journey to Kanazawa. Jen broke out the Anpanman biscuits along the way. Anpanman is an outrageously-popular cartoon character who had a bean-paste bun for a head. Obviously.

In any event, while a fan of the show, Joshie did not enjoy him in biscuit-form nearly so much. I managed to get one of his side-kicks, a guy that has a piece of toast for a head.

We spotted the Sea of Japan as we neared Kanazawa, but our attention was quickly re-directed to more pressing matters. Essentially, Kanazawan drivers are nutters. People were veering across multiple lanes as they developed sudden urges to turn down side-streets. Others would cruise along the wrong side of the road for quite some time (a few hundred metres) prior to turning a corner. 

Somewhat surprisingly, we made it to Kokusai Kanazawa - our accommodation for the evening. Large and flash-looking, it boasted its own pool-side Chapel. We noted a number of gentlemen in shiny grey suits and at least one lady in a puffy, white dress.

We dumped our gear in our room, and made a quick tour around Kenrokuen Gardens - known as one of the most beautiful in Japan. It was a perfect way to unwind after a day on the move - although I fear the herd of us trampling through may have upset the tranquility of the place just a smidge.

They love a bit of moss in Kanazawa.

Near the Rainbow Bridge (which is in reality just a small stone bridge) in  Kenrokuen Gardens

Practical means to ensure ancient trees stick around.
They use hard-wood timber posts, fastened with rope.

We dined at the Hotel tonight and forewent the several fancy options available to try out the buffet. It was decidedly kid-friendly, the only intervention required on my behalf was to prevent a frozen dairy incident when Lily tried out the 'pour your own' soft-serve ice-cream (it was operated by a foot-pedal). It appears she has a lead-foot.

Tomorrow sees us return the car and board a train to Kyoto, where we shall be staying in our own apartment for the next few nights.

Sarubobo and meat on a stick.

We indulged ourselves on bowls of corn flakes as well as Vegemite on ...well, bread (there's no toaster to be seen in our Japanese-styled room). The weather app on Jen's iPhone assured us that it would be scattered clouds only for the day. Inevitably, it was misting rain and freezing (well under 10 degrees anyway) as we left the Inn. The 'old town' of Takayama is known as the Sannomachi Quarter, and is loaded with historic charm - although completely lacking in footpaths to speak of.

Ikeda Bashi bridge - on the way to Old Town (as opposed to Funky Town).

We noticed some parked Rickshaws and initially thought they had been artfully placed for dramatic effect. It turns out they are used with great enthusiasm by individual tour operators in traditional attire - ploughing through crowds of people and traffic congestion with equal abandon. I couldn't decide whether the stony faces and white knuckles on some of the passengers was from the chill weather - or from them seeing their lives flash before their eyes.

A fully-operational Rickshaw
(also known as a two-wheeled conveyance of doom).

The tiny streets were lined with various souvenir shops, sake tasting centres and restaurants - interspersed with shrines hundreds of years old. There was also this little red guy called Sarubobo ('happy monkey baby'), who would grant happiness and good luck to its owner. These guys were everywhere, from plush toys, jewellery, to rice crackers - he seems particularly associated with Takayama itself. Lily picked up a Sarubobo plush toy/mini-handbag thing and looked quite chuffed with herself.

Foot-deep open guttering a natural draw-card for a two year old.

Making use of the water rushing along the guttering/canals on the edges of the old roads was an automated marionette - perched over the canal and driven by a small timber waterwheel. The device cleverly revealed  a different local dish each time the creepy guy in the box lifted his lid. Josh was transfixed.

A waterwheel-powered marionette.
What sorcery is this?!

The temperature had not risen, nor had the misty rain abated. I spotted a street vendor selling something hot. It turned out they were selling cooked-rice dumplings on a stick, covered in soy and baked over a fire. These were known an Midarashi Dango (I know, I reckon it sounds like a saucy Latin dance too), and they were awesome. I later sampled some Hida beef (quality, locally-grown stuff) on a stick - it was tasty, tender and warm.

Hamish snacking on Midarashi Dango.

We wandered back to the Rickshaw Inn to pick up our car and go for a spin about town (and to get out of the cold to be honest). On the way back, while Jen picked up some more cereal for breakfast tomorrow, I spotted some Boss - Coffee Gum. Clearly, this was a must-buy. Fortunately, it tasted just like the canned coffee (super-sugary with a hint of long-life milk).

The great canned taste you know and love - now in gum form!

I somewhat foolishly mentioned the term 'toll-way' while Jen was driving. She immediately swerved off the main road we were on - thinking she had inadvertently found a one-way trip out of town. After some fun off-roading through some farm fields (well, lane-ways) we found our bearings and made our way back to the Inn.

Short-cut from the Rickshaw Inn to the restaurant strip.

On our way to dinner we observed one of the many crazy cyclists (in this instance a middle-aged woman), careen into a pedestrian who had the nerve to cross the road. Both were largely uninjured, and ridiculously polite considering.

Why is it that these alley-ways always look nicer at night?

We had earlier spotted another Italian Restaurant that looked ideal for dinner, but the place was full. They indicated we could wait and they would have a table shortly. While we waited in the increasingly chilly evening air, the wait-staff provided a couple of sheepskin blankets to keep us warm on a seat outside. The meal was lovely, and the walk back to our room was collision-free. 

The pillows in our room are reasonably solid - how solid? Lily nearly cracked one of Hamish's ribs during a pillow fight (think cement mix in a pillowcase). The kids are all out like lights (or is that concussed) - tomorrow sees us call into Shirakawa-go before stopping for the night at Kanazawa (on the coast of the Sea of Japan).

Kiso Valley and Takayama the long way.

The delightful folk at our Matsumoto Ryokan all lined up to wave us off, one nearly shedding a tear. Jen, who was driving today, was not overly appreciative of an audience while reversing onto the particularly busy street.

We aimed to take the scenic route (ie Highway 19 - weaving through the mountains), but GPS Lady wouldn't have a bar of it. She attempted to convince us to take the toll-way for at least 20 minutes. After we had placed some fairly large mountains between ourselves and any toll-way, she settled into a sullen silence. The above-mentioned mountains had a light dusting of snow in their upper reaches, it appears Winter was chasing us south.

Kiso Valley is a series of small villages lying on what used to be the postal road, way back when (ie somewhere in the Edo period). We called into Tsumago, one of the most faithfully-preserved villages in the Kiso Valley.

Lily emulating your standard Japanese teen.

Taking a breather at one of the many small shrines around Tsumago.

I tried twisting that rock, but the bamboo wouldn't shut off.

Souvenir shop -
more chopsticks than you can poke a ..erm, never mind.

Spotting a very rustic looking shop selling some not-so rustic soft-serve ice-cream, we sampled a cone each. I adventurously (such a risk taker) tried some chestnut-flavoured ice-cream, while everyone else stuck with vanilla. We had just about finished ordering when several bus-loads of Japanese school girls descended on the very ice-cream shop we happened to be standing in. Much giggling and gesturing towards Joshie and the bigger kids followed - before they were eventually hurried on their way by some mildly exhausted-looking teachers.

Joshie was heard to ask, "Why are the people looking at me?"
He then resumed smearing his ice-cream across his face.

Not wanting a repeat of our Matsumoto night-driving shenanigans, we set our course for Takayama with an estimated time of arrival some time after 4pm. It was a lovely afternoon for driving, blue skies, autumnal leaves and gracefully winding roads.

That's when GPS Lady decided to provide an alternate path to Takayama than that sign-posted. Somewhat foolishly, we listened. We made some good time along an increasingly deserted road, before coming across a road closure. 

Once again GPS Lady - we thank you.

The assumption was it was closed due to snow, but we really had no idea - save that we were not going to press on into goodness knows what. Clenching our teeth, we ignored the pleas of GPS Lady for us to return to the closed road, and rejoined the highway with Takayama clearly signposted on it. The side-trip meant we arrived at the Rickshaw Inn in the dark, just as it started to mist rain. The young lady behind the counter was, however, very warm and welcoming. Each of the Martin kiddies were given flashing badges of the Rickshaw Inn to wear (clearly this made an instant impression on them).

Thinking we'd pop around the corner to pick something up for dinner - we ended up wandering the streets for quite some time (I may or may not have had the local map upside down). We have purchased some essentials, including an actual box of cereal for breakfast (I can't remember when we've last made our own breakfast), as well as some truly terrible instant coffee - the fact that I am not currently face-planting on this keyboard is testament to its caffeine content however.

Weather-willing, we shall check out the Old Town, called Sanmachi-Suji in the morning.

Japanese Castles and Japanese - erm, horse.

We started our day with an 'American style' breakfast - Joshie more than a little impressed it included toast. Part of the morning involved catching up on the washing (with only 3 sets of clothes each - this becomes reasonably important in short order) as well as watching a 20 minute program on how to make noises blowing on leaves - riveting stuff.

Once we set off for the day (and a cold and windy one it was) - we located Matsumoto-jo (Matsumoto Castle) in virtually no time due to our brush with it the night before. It is Japan's oldest wooden castle - and ranks as one of the most culturally significant in Japan.

Matsumoto-jo

We were making our way around the gardens to the entrance (someone put a great big moat in the road), when we were stopped by an elderly Japanese gentleman, who enquired whether we spoke english. His face lit up when we said we were from Australia, and started talking about the Goodwill Guide Group (who give free tours of the Castle).

While a little on the fence about locking ourselves in to a tour (even if it was on an individual basis), our desire not to inflict hurt on this old guy decided it for us. He was great - and was able to point out many of the cosy features of the castle, including murder holes as well as openings to fire both guns and bows & arrows from. There is a hidden third floor (low roof, no windows) just above the second roof-line. While not entirely certain, our guide thought it would have been a nifty place to hide some Samurai. We had to carry our shoes in bags, as we would be leaving through another door at the end (I just hoped it wasn't via a trap door into the moat), which made negotiating the over 400 year old stairs even more challenging. They essentially became ladders at the higher levels - even having a designated 'catcher' (a burly looking bloke stationed at the foot of the steepest of the stairs). We made it to the top (either the 5th or 6th floor depending on who you ask), and the stiff breeze experienced at the foot of the castle was more like a wind-tunnel at this height.

On the way back down, our guide pointed out the 'ritual disemboweling room' (I was getting worried they didn't have one...). This delightful place would be used by the local Lord should his castle ever fall. Fortunately, the place never fell (as it is pretty impregnable), so the room is still in minty-fresh condition.

Up on the top floor of Matsumoto-jo.

After farewelling our Guide (who gifted the kids some paper cranes), we picked up a miniature samurai helmet for Hamish and a paper lantern for Lily from the local souvenir shop. We also sought out some lunch (preferably out of the icy gusts slamming into us at each cross-street). We managed to track down a bakery-cafe and polished off an alarming/impressive amount of pastry.

Matsumoto-jo - now, with bright red bridge!

The sun poked its head out,
giving everything a cheerier aspect.

We called into a Laundromat and then into a Starbucks while we waited for our final lot of clothes to dry. I picked up a kids comic called Doraemon (Japan's most loved cartoon character), as it was the only thing in english I could find. I'm pretty sure the guy behind the counter checked I had kids before deciding I mightn't be as nutty as first appeared.

We were back to our Ryokan in plenty of time for dinner, which (on this occasion) would be served in our room. Things were going to plan until they brought out the entrees.

I thought I heard the word 'horse'.

Looking down at some very thinly sliced, raw meat that was clearly not fish - I doubted myself. Surely not.

We said 'nay' to the 'neigh'.

There - I heard it again. Horse sashimi (also known as basashi).

Waiting for the lovely folk to leave us, I managed to get a quiet word to Jen, who had not heard what the ladies had said. Getting a quiet word to someone in a single room is tricky, but we managed without alerting the drama-prone Martin children. All of the other unusual dishes on the table suddenly became warm and familiar in comparison.

We piked - there was just no way it was going to happen.

So we did what any other rational pair of adults would do in a situation like this - we hid the meat in other dishes, bowls, anywhere we could find really. Smiling and nodding at the lovely folk as they took away our partially-unfinished meals, we sat and rocked, and ate some Pocky. I think we just experienced the outer rim of our comfort zone.

Tomorrow sees us take a look at the historically-rich Kiso Valley, and then on to Takayama for the evening. It will be good to get back in the saddle again....

..sorry.

Art, Fuji and the GPS Lady strikes again!

Leaving Lalaca Ryokan, we reversed out onto the goat track with the unrequired assistance of the lovely staff, before plugging in the coordinates for the Hakone Open Air Museum on the good old GPS Lady.

Stopping exaggeratedly at a small railway crossing along the way, we came to what appeared to be a very limited parking space for the outdoor Art Museum. After some failed attempts at gaining entry to the place, we resorted to pantomiming to someone inside the large fence that we would very much like to get in. Their emphatic hand gesturing led us to believe we were nowhere near the main entrance. Our 10 minute journey past some surprised workers on their smoke-break through a gritty loading dock seemed to confirm this. Thanks GPS Lady.

Bison - with gawkers

Hakone Open Air Museum hosts a number of art pieces by Henry Moore (of Reclining Figure fame), as well as some joker called Pablo Picasso (amongst many others). Lily was dramatically aghast at the presence of nude statues - which didn't bode well, given Mr Picasso's fondness for the ladies.

Henry Moore - a fan of lying down apparently.

Some fortunately interaction-friendly eggs.

Cry me a river...or small manicured pool.

The number of exhibits on display was enormous, and the outdoor nature of the place meant I could take a break from the pre-emptive 'shooshing' that normally accompanies a visit to an art gallery (or any enclosed space for that matter).

The Hand of God

I call this Large-boned lady with poor fashion sense.

Woods of Net in the background
with a Joan Miro piece in the foreground.

The Martin kiddies were big fans of an art piece specifically designed for children under 12. It was called Woods of Net, and featured some vividly-coloured netting suspended from an outer shell of giant timber sleepers. It was a hit.

Woods of Net appears Martin-proof

We managed to avoid toddler-collisions or tanties - on the main.

Upon our departure, Hamish tested the honesty of the Japanese population by leaving his camera in the gents. Fortunately, their reputation remains intact - as the camera was sitting there waiting for him. Collective sighs of relief abounded.

A nude-free view of the Museum for your viewing pleasure.

All cultured-up, we set our sights on Mt Fuji and to that end, called into an Information Centre (and MOS Burgers) at Fuji Yoshida. The cola beverages at MOS had just a hint of overly-fragrant soap about them, and we also gained the company of an elderly gent who decided to take the table adjoining ours (read: 15 cm away) - in an otherwise empty restaurant. Odd - very odd.

In our quest to catch an identifiable photo of Mt Fuji whilst on the road, Jenny showed remarkable patience/endurance in weathering the steady stream of photographic suggestions coming from the drivers seat.

Fuji from the Freeway

The socially-phobic Mountain from the shore of Lake Kawaguchi.
Joshie declared himself 'Taller than Fuji!', whilst perched on a small rock.

Aware of the time, we entered the Ryokan at Matsumoto's phone number into the GPS (a gaijin-friendly way of setting coordinates). While it was getting late, our GPS Lady confidently guided us ever onwards. Hours later, she informed us we had reached our destination - it appeared we had done no such thing. While conveniently-close to Matsumoto Castle (and what appeared to be some Government buildings), we were on the opposite side of the city to our intended destination. It was now dark, our internet connection was misbehaving - and I could swear I could hear chortling coming from that nasty GPS minx. We ended up doing it the old-fashioned way: Combining Jen's iPhone and my Netbook (such survivalists), as well as some door-knocking on Jen's part, we tracked down Kikunoyu Ryokan.

A little frazzled, we were not in the best state of mind to appreciate tiny fish crammed full of couscous-like roe, or what appeared to be algae found in a billabong (long, cold, dark green and hairlike). After dinner, we celebrated Halloween in our own way - by stocking up on some Yebitsu and chocolate (Kit-Kats, Pocky and something called Crunky) at the corner shop. Watching the Nippon-Ham Fighters (Sapporo's own!) down the Yokohama Giants on TV while consuming our goodies, things started looking up.

Funiculars, Ropeways and Piratey Ferries.

We wandered down our goat-track to Gora Station, which boasts both a standard railway line as well as a funicular line (cable-railway up a steep incline - thanks Google) up to Sounzan Station. From here, we transferred to a Ropeway - this one stretched delightfully over the top of a vast gorge crammed full of sulfurous vents (I'm pretty sure I saw a sign saying Hades this way down there somewhere). We got out at Owakudani Station, with Lily gleefully enquiring whether I enjoyed that last section.

Suspended above a valley of erupting sulfurous vapour?
Sign me up.

We popped out onto the western balcony of Owakudani Station and managed to catch a glimpse of Mt Fuji (or part thereof). Not bad considering the day was reasonably cloudy.

Mt Fuji - well, a bit of it.

After displaying some embarrassing levels of enthusiasm over this partial-sighting, we made our way up the stinky mountain-side to the east of the station. There was a reasonably-sized kiosk/restaurant perched there that we temporarily sated Joshies desire for pancakes in. Outside - in the icy, sulfurous winds racing across the mountain-top was a Hello Kitty dressed as a black-boiled egg. 

Obviously. 

Even Hello Kitty loves sulfur-vent boiled eggs.

We boarded the next Ropeway to make our way down to the shores of Lake Ashi - where we were greeted by some rather unique ferries. If Disney was looking for some completely over-the-top-cheerful Pirate ships, they would have found them on Lake Ashi. The wide expanse of water conveniently allowed the icy winds to blast us in an uninterrupted fashion, leaving us with a rather tousled look.

I'm pretty sure I saw Mickey Mouse at the wheel.

Our vessel -
a fearsome mint-green with gold trimmings.

Random Torii on the shore of Lake Ashi.

Our ever-so subtle Ferry.

We disembarked at Hakone Machi-ko, and took a 20 minute walk to Moto Hakone-ko (essentially the next bay along), before jumping on an even more flamboyant Pirate-ferry for the return leg.

Hakone-jinja Shrine

Mt Fuji remained just as elusive on our way back over the mountain, but we managed to strike up a conversation with a gentleman from the Kansai region (captive audience I guess).

The bigger kids had their first Onsen tonight (we booked a private, family room - prudes that we are) and I got to watch In the Nightgarden with Joshie... They came back looking very pink and enthused. We set off for Mt Fuji in the morning, and then on to Matsumoto in the afternoon.