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.

Hiroshima to Miyajima

The trip to Hiroshima took all of 40 minutes on the Shinkansen - meaning it was only around 10:30am by the time we arrived. We managed to locate a couple of large storage lockers at the train station (they were going like hotcakes) and jumped onto the Green Tram line, from the stations entrance. Our destination was to what was known as the Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall - now sadly known as Genbaku Dome, or the Atomic Dome at Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park.

With the leaves turning brilliant shades of orange and red, and hedges of lush green - it is a picturesque place, the Genbaku Dome all the more stark a reminder of the 80,000 people wiped out in seconds in 1945.

Genbaku Dome (Atomic Dome)

The Promotions Hall was known for its attractive green dome.

It was an unsurprisingly respectful and sombre affair, punctuated by school kids running through the Park to catch up with classmates.

We left some paper cranes at the Children's Peace Monument - commemorating Sadako Sasaki and other child victims of the war. Sadako developed leukaemia from the effects of radiation, and attempted to fold 1000 paper cranes - which was meant to allow a wish to be then granted. While she did not live long enough to complete this number, thousands of others have since left wreaths of paper cranes at the monument.

Leaving our teeny donation of cranes.

Children's Peace Monument

Leaving the Peace Memorial Park in a reflective mood, we boarded a local train to Miyajimaguchi, and from there to Itsukushima - otherwise known as Miyajima Island. On the ferry over, a chatty and not entirely decipherable gent (resplendent in various purple baseball / grid-iron regalia) gave me tips on where to stand for the best photos of the exceedingly famous torii at Itsukushima Shrine.

Due to the trip to Itsukushima taking far less time than expected (and us turning up prior to check-in time), we again stored our bags, and took an afternoon tour of the place.

To by-pass the river of day-trippers streaming back from the Shrine (and the many wild deer roaming the shoreline), we wandered up one of the lane-ways lined with food stalls and souvenir shops. We came across what is apparently the biggest rice scoop in the world (celebrating the invention of the popular design right here on Miyajima Island). Suitably impressed/confused, we moved on to the floating torii (currently jutting rather than floating, due to low-tide).

I bet this caused a bit of a stir locally.

The torii is spectacular. We had a great time tip-toeing around pools of seaweed-strewn water on the sandy estuary. The kids even found expanses of reasonably people-free 'beach' to run around on.

Giant vermilion torii - really makes an entrance... 

There is a custom with torii for visitors to place either stones or coins on the structure for good luck. So it was with the giant torii of Miyajima - coins poking out from the barnacled bases of the massive columns.

We got lucky again with the weather
- it was meant to be raining at this point.

We managed to stumble by some local camera crew filming visitors to the area - Lily is now scanning television channels in the expectation that we (ie she) will become local media celebrities.

Handy tip: Young couples with cameras are always keen to assist you with a group shot
(so they can get theirs taken in turn)

Having spent a lovely afternoon exploring the village, we indulgently took a taxi to our Ryokan. Weaving around some very narrow mountain roads (making us glad we didn't walk), our driver eventually stopped and pointed to a lovely red bridge being photographed by a bus-load of tourists. Apparently our accommodation was 'that way'. We wandered through a grove littered in tiny red maple leaves and came upon Momijiso, our Ryokan for the next two nights. The parents room (turns out we booked two rooms) overlooks a Koi pond, Japanese lanterns, and the grove itself.

The path to Momijiso

We were served a traditional Japanese meal in the dining room, where we make up the majority of the guests (another group of 3 and that was it). Josh was in a reasonably grumpy mood - which the tiny old lady from the kitchen misinterpreted as not enjoying his meal. She kept coming back with increasingly child-friendly options - the poor thing.

The Einstein that I am, was unable to locate the glass shutters that would effectively close the shower area from the increasingly chill environs outside. We instead shut the shower door and then bathroom door and hoped for the best. More alarming than the chance of a frosted over shower in the morning was the lowish internet reception, the first we've encountered to date. Being nestled high in a forested valley on a stunning Japanese island has some draw-backs after all.

Castles, Kimonos and Korakuen.

Nearby canal - Kooraku Hotel is about 15 metres to the left.

We were expecting another dreary day, but were pleasantly surprised by the sun making an appearance this morning. After a bit of a lay-in and a buffet breakfast (I managed to take the only pastry with a bean-paste centre) we made our way along Momotaro-Odori to Okayama-jo (known to locals as Crow Castle - due to its colouring).

Okayama Castle

There was an over-sized stick-sculpture in the outer courtyard of the Castle, which the kids made a bee-line for. Some local children took their exploration a few steps further and scaled several metres into the air - their parents either supremely confident in their abilities or over-burdened with progeny.

The largely ground-based Martin children.

While the external view of the Castle is delightful, the place is - frankly - a concrete re-build. It was largely dismantled during the Meiji Restoration with the remnants catching fire during the WWII bombings. Even though he is not so much a purist himself, Joshie fell off his chair (a park bench actually) anyway. Despite landing on his face, a muffled, "I'm alright" alleviated our initial concerns.

Had we not have already known about the non-authentic construction of Okayama Castle, there was one additional give-away. It had a whopping great elevator in it.

The view from the top was amazing, and gave a close up view of the gilt shachi (the tiger-headed fish protecting the structure) as well as the Tsukimi Bridge.

Shachi - busy protecting the Castle.

We were making our way down through the Castle's many levels when the staff convinced Lily to dress up in a Kimono. Josh's bottom lip started to protrude in an ominous fashion before they dressed him up too (Hamish back-pedalled out of there before he could be roped in).

We made our way across the Tsukimi Bridge to Korakuen Garden - another of the three most beautiful gardens in Japan. 

View from Tsukimi Bridge

Korakuen again features some mossy areas, but also some fairly expansive lawns (largely unheard of in Japan from what I've seen). There were stepping stones across winding waterways everywhere - making for some very pretty vistas, but nightmarish for toddler-control. We all remained dry - although were once again swarmed by misty-eyed old folk attempting to convince us that our kids were Kawai (methinks it was the glaucoma talking). Jen and I sampled some peach soft-serve ice-cream (flavoured in honour of Momotaro no doubt).

The local tourists love this purple-berried shrub for reasons unknown.

Josh: 'The precarious creek-crossing is this way!'

Railings? Pffft.

Just when you thought water-crossings couldn't
get any less child-friendly.

There were these teeny timber paddle-boats, anchored by rocks in streams all over the garden.
The paddle-wheels would drive tiny chimes in a plink-plonking fashion.

Koi-fish - boy are their faces red...

The Peach Boy is almost worshipped about town, with sculptures and branding frequently featuring either him or his chatty animal friends. As is the Japanese tendency, this trend continued with more manhole cover art.

While wandering through a stylish under-cover mall in search of lunch, we came across  a major police bust taking place. A solemn looking young man on a bike was being written a ticket by a pair of heavily-uniformed police (or parking attendants, I'm still at a loss).

Thoroughly embarrassing myself in front of the locals, I managed to take a few snaps of Tomato Bank, which is not some seed-saving laboratory, but a financial institution. To add a further twist to this kooky company - the spokeswoman appears to wear a gherkin on her head.

I've got to be missing something here...

We are off to Hiroshima tomorrow morning, before ending up on Miyajima Island for the evening. Okayama has a great feel to it, and we will be sorry to leave it behind.