Leaving Takayama, we went on to
Nikko. Here we had the only thing that
could be called a bad experience. It
took four legs on the train to get from Takayama to Nikko. It turned out to be a long day. It was nearing 6 o’clock and dark when we got
there.
We tried two or three different ways to
get from the train station to our lodging by using the bus system. We couldn’t seem to find the right place to
get onto the bus that would go our way.
We were tired and hungry. We
resorted to taking a taxi. It cost more
than three times as much as the bus ride would have, but when the cab driver
delivered us to the front door of the hotel, we figured we might never have
found the place by ourselves.
When we checked in, we discovered there
wasn’t an eating place within walking distance.
Our dispositions didn’t get any sweeter with that bit of
information. The hotel keeper suggested
we walk about three blocks to a super market just past the bus stop. They had a sort of delicatessen where we
could get something to eat.
That sounded better than a bus ride back
toward the center of town. We set off afoot, our burden somewhat lighter, having left our luggage in our room. We found the supermarket easily enough. It was while walking across the parking lot
that things went amiss.
The store lights shone brightly through
the windows, so brightly I really couldn’t see my feet. I failed to see a parking block. I stumbled when my left foot hit it. I threw out my hands to catch myself. My right hand hit a car parked in the
adjacent space. Whump, it went. I managed to stay on my feet, but my
sunglasses, hooked in the top button of my shirt, went sliding in front of me a
few feet.
As I stooped to pick them up, the car
door flew open and a rather angry young man jumped out of one side, a young
woman from the other side. A
conversation ensued between the angry man and the Goodwife. Though I could not understand what they were
saying, I knew from the tone that it wasn’t a pleasant discourse. I was in somewhat of a state of shock, from my
long day, my hunger, the unexpected trip, and the surprise at finding someone
sitting in the car in the parking lot.
The man thought I had purposely struck his
car with my hand. The Goodwife tried to
explain, with quite some irritation in her voice, that I had tripped over the
parking block. I could do nothing but
watch ping pong fashion the back and forth.
Things settled down fairly quickly. The
Goodwife decided the conversation was over and turned toward the supermarket. I stepped in front of the offended car-owner,
bowed slightly, and said “so sorry” (I don’t think I said “Prease”). Then I
headed toward
the supermarket before anything could reignite the fire. We did our shopping. A sixteen-ounce can of beer went a long way
toward reviving my spirits.
Our initial poor first impression was
erased the next day when the hotel man offered us the use of his washer and
dryer to do our laundry. We loaded the
washer and took off on a hike to see some statues in the woods. We never found the statues, but we had a peaceful
walk through a forest. When we got back
an hour later to throw our clothes in the dryer, the washer had malfunctioned
and still had thirty minutes to run. The
manager sent us on our way, saying he would transfer clothes to the dryer, for
us to go enjoy our day.
Our day was a visit to a shrine where the
original three monkeys, the see-no-evil, hear-no-evil, speak-no-evil monkey
dwell. I always thought those monkeys
were a statue somewhere, but I was quite wrong.
They are a relief sculpture on what the Japanese call a transom, a
window-like structure above the door sill.
In this case, the transom was more like a cornice running the full
length of two sides of the building, elevated over the archways leading into
what we might call a small chapel.
The monkeys are about eighteen inches
high. Not exactly the statue I had
always pictured. Furthermore, they are
only one set of about twelve groupings of monkeys that represent the stages of
life, starting with youth and ending with maturity. The “no-evil” monkeys represent what we
should learn in our youth. (No comment
on how successful we have been) In the last grouping, the female monkey is
pregnant, starting the life cycle over again.
Nikko is also the site of a seven-story
pagoda.
It didn’t look like seven stories to me, either. The pagoda is in about a ten-year restoration
project. What you see in the picture is
the super structure built all the way around, and above, the pagoda. The workmen actually work indoors year
around. No need for ladders and safety
harnesses and such. Need to work on the
roof? Go up a story or two in the super
structure and step directly onto the pagoda roof, one of seven.
When the project is complete, the outside
building will be removed. The
seven-story pagoda will stand proud and new once again. Picture-taking wasn’t allowed in the
pagoda. I probably could have snapped a
few of the crew working, but I neglected to do that. Here’s what it looked like from the top of
the construction shell.
That night, we dined at our hotel. We returned to the hotel, collected our clean
laundry, rested briefly, then partook of a seven-course meal. Our hotel keeper turned out to be quite a
chef as well as an innkeeper.
The hotel had a European decoration
theme. The chairs and tables were French provincial or German, and the
like. One of the serving tables was an
old pool table covered with something like a sheet of plywood. Reminded me of the farm pool table converted
to ping pong in the same fashion.
There was also a Yamaha piano at one end
of the eatery. I played a few tunes
before we went up to our room to retire for the night. We hadn’t been in our room for fifteen
minutes when we heard the piano strike again.
Our chef-innkeeper said nobody had played the piano in a long time. We had to investigate.
A man in his forties was playing some
classical tunes. We applauded and he
came over to thank us. He said he had
been forced to study piano as a child.
He quit as soon as he could. As
he reached middle age, he regretted his decision. He is currently taking piano lessons
again. We both played another tune or
two and called it a day. He and his
family were headed out early to climb a mountain somewhere in the vicinity. We had to catch a bus to the train station
and return to Tokyo via a two-leg train journey.
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