Tacky-yama

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Kicked off with a mooch around the morning market, following a more successful breakfast hunt than that of the majestic crane we watched stalking the waters of the Miyagawa River. We sampled weird soy bean sweeties, bought puffer fish paper lanterns and got freaked out by creepy local faceless dolls.

After a strawberry smoothie we headed out to the Festival Float Exhibit, where the fluorescent lighting sucked the soul out of the bleached spectres of the autumn parade. A crazily complex and costly museum next door featured sunrise / sunset lit, exquisitely detailed miniatures of the temples of Nikko. We couldn’t fathom why they’d built it all again in miniature - why not see the real thing? And why was it here, not in bleedin’ Nikko?!

Another late lunch bakery fest shared with the ants by the river. The crane was still unfed and was startin’ to look skinny. We wandered some preserved Edo houses before concluding a hitherto mediocre day at design buff (read “Cav”) haven Yoshijima Heritage House. This magnificently understated structure is all paper screens, tatami mats, air, light and open spaces. Splendid wooden beams resemble impossible 3D puzzles in the ceiling. It’s all very spare and terribly zen. Young Cav is quite transfixed by the tranquil courtyard garden and stares into it cross legged for 15 uninterrupted minutes whilst his big brother tries to get a good photograph. We overstay closing time and are ushered to the back where 4 old timers are drinking beer and listening to Bach. Before we know it, bevvies are foisted upon us and, via the translations of Shima the pharmacist, we discover that the other 3 gents are 2 decorators and Tadao Yoshijima, eccentric architect and owner of the building. We exchange bios and chat about the Japanese architecture in Hoi An (Vietnam). Mr Yoshijima invites us into the rafters to visit his scruffy bepencilled study. Here he proudly shows us several magazines featuring his work. He’s a great character, earnest one moment, the next unfolding stories too complex (or too rude?) for Shima to translate. It’s a privilege to be invited into his home and we bow deeply on departure.

Quick bonus temple: Kokubun-ji.

We book trains to Hiroshima tomorrow and grab a very decent dinner at the local Chinese, further evidence that the less you pay for your food in Japan, the better it is. The waitress speaks impeccable English, and it turns out she studied in Edinburgh, which explains why when Stace orders seconds “off menu”, offending the chef by demanding a Western style Omlette, she steps in and whips up a perfect pre-match egg-fest.

It’s been a good day in the end.

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