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Published: August 6th 2007
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We woke up bright and early to the clatter of the alarm clock, dreading the 2½ hour train ride ahead of us to Kyoto. Jess waited in line for our reserved train car tickets while Gene scoured the station for an edible breakfast and I stood guard over our luggage. I watched as Gene pounced from one café to another like a pinball as Jess emerged from the ticket booth to inform me that the early train was full. Thus, we had a full hour to locate and consume a decent breakfast. However, with few options available at the Nagano train station, we settled on a café with the only menu depicting photos of Westernized fare.
Jess, whining about a hangover and need for bread, ordered the bacon, eggs and toast platter, pointing out that it was
exactly the breakfast that he was looking for. Never quite a fan of breakfast myself, I was overjoyed to find a photo of pizza bread under what appeared to be the children’s menu. Gene decided to take the safe route and ordered a ham and cheese sandwich.
The look on Jess’s face as his meal was placed in front of him was
absolutely priceless - it looked as though it was fit to feed a 5-year-old. Gene’s and my laughter only added to Jess’s sulking. However, I soon thereafter became the butt of my own jokes as my shredded tuna fish pizza bread was placed before me, reeking of bad fish. Gene’s “I told you so” attitude as he sat chomping down his ham and cheese, grinning from ear to ear, left the two of us whimpering.
Having been kept awake once again by the tick-tock of Jess’s snore the night prior, I was thankful to have slept peacefully for the vast majority of our 2½-hour train ride. By the time we arrived in Kyoto, we were more than happy to get off of the train, packed with Asians smacking their gum and polluting the air with the aroma of smoke and Japanese cuisine. Unfortunately, it was another damp and rainy day and we weren’t motivated to do much else. Nevertheless, lacking the desire to revisit Japan at any future point in our lives, we knew we had to suck it up and put forth our best effort to see as much as we could - so off to Nijo Castle
we were.
Nijo Castle (Nijojo) was built by Tokugawa Leyasu, founder of Edo Shoguns, as the Kyoto residence for himself and his successors. The palace building now known as Ninomaru (“secondary castle”) was completed in 1603 and enlarged by Leyasu’s grandson, Lemitsu. It survives in its original form and is famous for its Momoyama architecture, decorated sliding doors and floors that squeak like nightingales when walked upon - a security measure against intruders.
Lemitsu also added the Honmaru (“main castle”) and a five-storied castle tower to Nijo Castle. However, the original Honmaru structures were destroyed by fires in the 18th century; the present building was moved there from the Imperial Palace in 1893.
Nearly drenched by the time we left Nijo Castle, we decided to make one last pit stop at the well-renowned shrine at Shinsen’en, all that remains from the pre-1331 Kyoto Imperial Palace grounds.
Cold, tired and soaked, we wanted nothing more than a pizza delivered to our room. After checking with the concierge regarding our delivery options, or lack thereof, we decided to settle for Ramen noodles at an authentic Japanese restaurant located off of the beaten path, which Jess had found in
the
Lonely Planet. We crammed into the small empty space blocking the entrance to stay out of the rain as several restaurant patrons turned their heads to eye the Americans that seemed so out of place - little did we know, the etiquette was to wait outside until a table became available. The room was small with few tables, albeit full, and a counter with stools facing an open kitchen. The air was consumed by smoke, generated mostly from the two tables of hard-ass looking Japanese guys who were staring us down as if telling us to go home where we belong.
Gene, offended by the uncouth stares, glared back at the Asian seated at the adjacent table. Noticing Gene’s irritation, the guy mumbled, “Sorry,” and turned away.
Glad to see the young punks finally up and leave, we took our places at the table and consulted the Japanese menu printed on the wall. “Pork only,” stated a woman at the counter as she observed us staring blankly at the wall. Not quite sure what she was referring to, we nodded our heads in understanding and ordered: “Three please.”
That evening would go down in history
as one of our best meals in Japan.
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darby
non-member comment
the trains smell...
like pee. i think it might actually have been hummingbird egg.