I had forgotten how good Japan is to visit. Despite Hans Solo, despite the long hours in the bus, despite the patience required to travel with 36 other people who just one. week before were perfect strangers. Despite the fact I said I would never do a package tour and despite the fact the package tour took us to just a few key sites and totally missed out on seeing the actual cities of Tokyo and Kyoto and had us on the outskirts. Despite my complaints about all of this and more – Japan is beautiful.
The Japanese people are kind and patient – and extremely quiet. The food is delicious, well prepared and beautifully presented. Even the food at convenience stores and highway rest areas is fantastic and we experienced many at both of these. I laughed out loud at our first highway rest area. I walked into the female toilets to find women from our bus, videoing the facilities. They hadn’t seen anything so clean, functional and well organised including live flower arrangements, at public toilets before.
The trip to Mount Fuji, Fuji-san, was six hours on a bus and Fuji was clouded in. Fortunately we saw it later from the bus on the trip back to the airport to leave Japan. Fuji-san was mocking Hans Solo. At least that was what I thought. Or maybe Fuji-san was mocking us.
The one optional tour we did in Japan was a day trip to Hiroshima. Half the tour group including us sisters started the day with a Shinkansen train trip to Hiroshima from Osaka. There we were coupled with 12 members of the “dog” bus or “doggie people” as Hans Solo referred to them.
The museum at Hiroshima was harrowing. The exhibition included photos taken soon after the bomb was dropped, original accounts from the people of Hiroshima including interviews, artworks and poetry. If we weren’t already crying at the sadness and the shame of humanity, seeing and hearing the small 10 year old students on a school excursion sobbing out loud, made me gulp in an attempt to prevent my sobs. The students were being shielded by their teachers in an attempt to hide them from view but to little avail. This made the sorrow more heartfelt and tangible. We were seeing photos of children, the same age as those on the excursion, burnt, black, with rags of skin hanging off their limbs. The visitors moved silently through the exhibition; the children’s sobs the only sound apart from the shuffling of feet. I was glad to reach the end and move from the darkness into the harsh sun.
The afternoon part of the tour took us to Miyajima Island and the Itsukushima Shrine. A ferry ride to an island was exactly the antidote needed. On the bus to the ferry, Hans Solo was telling us that Miyajima is famous for its oysters. He asked the bus if we like oysters. The ones that did yelled out a loud “Yes”.
“Yes”, he repeated, “will you eat oysters”?
“NO” yelled the people who don’t like oysters.
“What?”, asked Hans “you like oysters but you won’t eat them? Why can’t you make up your mind”?
The doggie person, male, across from me said “because they are women”.
If looks could kill, I’d be charged with murder. He returned my death stare with a “what?” look, seemingly innocent eyebrows raised. Casual, uncalled for misogyny is just not my thing. Again, a ferry ride and an island are the perfect antidote.
Miyajima is beautiful. We visit the shine, take a few selfies and stop for lunch. Wild deer gently walk past visitors and seek rest under the shady trees. Before long, it is time to head back and we all gratefully break away from the doggie people once we reach the train station.
The following day is a trip to Nara to see, feed, bow at and avoid the deer. The park is beautiful and shady, the deer docile until you have rice crackers in your hand. You feed them a cracker and they bow to you. You bow back and give another. However, if you aren’t fast enough, they start butting, biting and chasing you. Hugely funny when it happens to other people. Also, a word of warning, it’s better not to get to close as they suddenly pee and poop and both can end up your leg. Also, muddy horns and grassy teeth can stain clothes.
With the tour over and Hans Solo’s banal commentary on everything from look at the guy filling his own petrol tank, “this is self-serve” to “see the panda truck, this is removalist. They pack up your home and move for you”, there was only one last thing to do, the five and half hour bus ride to the airport, then home via Hong Kong. No such thing as a direct fight when you are doing an inexpensive two-for-one Trip a deal.
I was worried about doing a cruise and a package tour. I would do a cruise again. I never thought I would say that, but I would. Would I do a package tour again? At the beginning of the trip, I was thinking maybe I would, if it was a small tour. Now I’m saying never. Never ever again. Sayonara.
The seat of my pants 