The first part of the road is very pleasant. I see fellow travellers and the going is easy, but after a while it becomes harder work; the light fades fast, the English language signs (which were quite prominent before) have all but disappeared and there isn’t another soul in sight. Every few hundred metres there is a sign in Japanese but without a translation. After another kilometre-or-so of rugged path, I’m rewarded with a sign that says “Amazakechaya 0.4km”, so I carry on, now looking forward immensely to the restorative properties of a cup of amazake.
A few hundred metres later, I see the now familiar Japanese sign, but this time it has a translation beneath it: “Be careful because a wild boar appears!,” this is a little unnerving as I’m not sure of the procedure when faced with a wild boar, but I must be near the tea house now and assuming that all those previous, similar-looking signs warned of the same danger, I’ve been well into boar territory for a while now and not seen one. A little further on, I turn a corner and emerge into what can only be described as a building site. With burgeoning disappointment, I struggle with the thought that a teahouse that stood for hundreds of years has now been demolished or is being renovated to coincide with the particular day that I visit.
I resist the urge to collapse, rag doll-esque to the floor and decide it’s time to get the bus home. Luckily the old road joins the new road just up ahead and a little later I reach the bus stop. The timetable suggests that I am now past the teahouse, so I have to assume it was indeed the building site or (and this seems more likely) the teahouse was moved onto the new road and in my preference for the rugged, historical trail, I missed some of the history.
It’s twenty minutes until the next bus (also, the last bus of the day) but since there’s no pavement on this side and it’s getting darker, I decide it would be best to wait on the other side of the road. I can see a fair way back up the road, so when the bus does come, it should be easy for me to cross over and flag it down, especially as the road seems deserted.
Exactly twenty minutes later a stream of traffic arrives, with the bus right in the middle. I can’t get across and just have to wave and hope it stops. It doesn’t. My spirits fall as I contemplate the 6km or so walk that is ahead of me. I’m about to set off when a taxi pulls up beside me, so I jump in immediately and only then do I let myself think about dinner and a hot bath at my ryokan.
A few hundred metres later, I see the now familiar Japanese sign, but this time it has a translation beneath it: “Be careful because a wild boar appears!,” this is a little unnerving as I’m not sure of the procedure when faced with a wild boar, but I must be near the tea house now and assuming that all those previous, similar-looking signs warned of the same danger, I’ve been well into boar territory for a while now and not seen one. A little further on, I turn a corner and emerge into what can only be described as a building site. With burgeoning disappointment, I struggle with the thought that a teahouse that stood for hundreds of years has now been demolished or is being renovated to coincide with the particular day that I visit.
I resist the urge to collapse, rag doll-esque to the floor and decide it’s time to get the bus home. Luckily the old road joins the new road just up ahead and a little later I reach the bus stop. The timetable suggests that I am now past the teahouse, so I have to assume it was indeed the building site or (and this seems more likely) the teahouse was moved onto the new road and in my preference for the rugged, historical trail, I missed some of the history.
It’s twenty minutes until the next bus (also, the last bus of the day) but since there’s no pavement on this side and it’s getting darker, I decide it would be best to wait on the other side of the road. I can see a fair way back up the road, so when the bus does come, it should be easy for me to cross over and flag it down, especially as the road seems deserted.
Exactly twenty minutes later a stream of traffic arrives, with the bus right in the middle. I can’t get across and just have to wave and hope it stops. It doesn’t. My spirits fall as I contemplate the 6km or so walk that is ahead of me. I’m about to set off when a taxi pulls up beside me, so I jump in immediately and only then do I let myself think about dinner and a hot bath at my ryokan.
No comments:
Post a Comment