Japan 2010: 8 - Where I am Attacked by Squid

My comfy Kagoshima bed. What a luxurious difference it made from the acceptable but decidedly plain bottom bunk in my Okinawa room. I had set the travel alarm nice and early the previous night but looking blearily at it in the darkened room, it was silent and without a pulse. I took the battery out and gave it a tap but nothing brought it back to life. Bloody thing, I'd just bought it.

Fortunately it was only 7am, and there was a long journey ahead of me, worthy of one of the days on my first outing. I would be leaving Kagoshima as soon as I could for Miyazaki, and after spending as much time there as I dare, taking the train up the coast to Nobeoka, where my next hotel awaited.

I got hold of a ham and egg sandwich (erroneously sold as a BLT!) with western tea from the nearby Doutor, a coffee store chain that you find pretty much everywhere that Starbucks hasn't colonised yet, and then got back on the streetcar. Something must have gone wrong in the night because I found myself mixing east and west and going the wrong way, but after a quick change (and a second ticket, grr) I finally made it to the station at about 10am.

Kagoshima station is huge, and as I would find out in all the westside cities in Kyushu, it was playing up the Shinkansen message. The long awaited Kyushu Shinkansen route, which connects the existing track at Fukuoka will eventually end at Kagoshima station with a spur to Nagasaki, meaning high-speed journeys that can take you all the way up to Sapporo, if you so fancied. Unfortunately, only part of the track is currently up and running and it won't be completed until midway through 2011, 20 years after the first soil was shifted. Just inside the entrance, a large cube with a cartoon man in a robe and a train counted down the days until completion.

It was time to get back on the JR network and justify the pass I had got at a very unfavourable exchange rate. The next train to Miyazaki was only a local one, meaning the journey time would be about two hours. Skipping the tickets I went down to the platform and waited. Even though the local train would be stopping several times it seemed like the best option rather than waiting for the next limited express, which wasn't due in for another hour. It was getting uncomfortably close to departure time with no sign of train before I had the good sense to look all the way to the end of the track behind me, where the train was waiting patiently. A few minutes more and it would have passed me by, leaving me looking a bit stupid.

As the train made its way slowly around the southern coastline, occasionally getting close enough to see Kagoshima Bay and the picturesque Sakurajima a little way off. Heading inland, the beautiful Japanese countryside was gouged out to make way for our single track. Heading through a pleasant valley one minute would be spoilt by a claustrophobic concrete lined basin the next, with only the peaks way above our heads showing any signs of natural life. Unfortunately this is the price paid by the Japanese for their envied rail systems; something has to be sacrificed and all too often it would be the wilderness. I thought about the road building in Okinawa and the miles of track being laid for the Shinkansen and sighed.

For the early part of the journey I stood with my bags at my feet, as the train was quite full, but over the course of the ten or so stops on the way enough people got off to grab a double seat of my own. Just as I had, a band of schoolchildren with their teachers got on and swarmed up the aisle, devouring every spare space they could. A few of them around my seat regarded me with curiosity, looking away with shyness when I turned to them. One of them managed an English 'Hello' and responded with happy surprise that I replied in Japanese.


The journey carried on through several stops, and happily the concrete abated in favour of some wide open, fairly untouched natural beauty. Eventually we all made it into Miyazaki station at about midday. It was time for an old-style rush job to make the most of my time here. I stuck my bags in the nearest available locker and got hold of a map from the tourist office. A quick scan and an obvious path from the station, south out of the west exit to the Oyodo river and back down the main street and loop back to the station would cover several of the highlighted attractions and take the next few hours, which was all I had. The station boards showed limited express trains to Nobeoka at 4.30 and 5.30, an hours ride. My map of the route to the hotel from Nobeoka station was vague but it did seem like quite a hike, so getting there late wasn't a good idea.

I trotted off to the first attraction - the Miyazaki Science Center (also) was just round the corner and is easily distinguished by a big shiny dome and a dirty great full-size rocket stuck outside. Also outside was a large group of schoolchildren, many of them sat impatiently cross-legged on the ground, a few more excitable ones running about and generally giving the handful of teachers something to do. At least some of them had been on the train but there were several schools worth of kids ready to swarm on the poor staff with sticky fingers and clipboard questions.

I moved through the crowd as anonymously as I could, although I was inevitably watched by a hundred little eyes as I passed down the middle of the group. Inside, it was the calm before the storm, so I got my ticket quickly (520yen) and started out on the ground floor. It's a circular, open space populated by large exhibits, such as a full-size Apollo 11 moon lander right in the middle of the room, a smaller space pod in the old style that you could strap yourself in, and the fenced-off 'classroom' of Dr. Cosmo, which I initially mistook for a real person, but was actually a lifelike simile of a cuddly scientific old granddad, lip-syncing to a recorded voice as his arms gestured enthusiastically about his experiments and discoveries. Round the sides, again, were a set of study rooms filled with books and desks, again empty.

Natural progression took me to a small building within the museum, where a woman in a starched airline-style uniform was helping a couple out of a door at the side. From the posters, it became clear this was one of those mini film theatres where the seats are on hydraulics. I'm guessing that normally they wait until there are enough people for a full seating before letting people in, but since it was so quiet, I was ushered straight in. It's fair to say that the seats were a little small for a frame such as mine, and the stepladder used to get people up to the height of the seating area (a good 6 feet off the ground) meant that a dignified entrance/exit was less than assured, although fortunately it was just me.

The film started, and as the lady said, it was all in Japanese, but I got the gist of things. I was accompanying a gruff-voiced scientist on a research submarine deep into the murky depths of the ocean (which I told myself would make up for the lack of scuba diving earlier when I was asked to choose which film to see). Suddenly, we're attacked! The slight bobbing movements of the seat platform used to suggest descent were thrown out of the window and were replaced by being thrown wildly around the room, save for my seat belt. A giant squid had wrapped itself around us and was not letting go, the mouth ready for a bit of unexpected European cuisine.

Fortunately, like all research subs, we were able to give it a massive electric shock, which it didn't like up it, allowing us to flee. A few minutes worth of surveying deep sea crabs and volcanic vents are interrupted by a spine-rearranging earthquake, forcing the expedition to come to an end and us to rise back to the surface. The film ended and the door opened. With a slightly wobbly jump back to ground level that slightly startled the attendant, I thanked her and went on my way.

By the time I emerged, the schoolchildren had been let loose, and were now running around the place, excitedly prodding at any interaction buttons, wheels or levers they could find. Now was a good time to head upstairs to the next floor. Unfortunately I had been beaten to it.

The second floor included a ringed balcony that looked down on the exhibits below, with recessed areas all around containing a variety of 'have a go' experiments in a similar vein to Eureka in the UK. Thankful that only a few children had made their way up thus far, I could choose a quiet corner and make a fool of myself on the experiments. My aim fell short at the 'throwing balls at targets' game, and failed me again with the experiment where you had to move a ring along a metal pole without touching it, the classic game brought up to date because you were being timed against a robotic arm doing the same thing. Needless to say I came a distant second.

The third floor was a full-sized screening room, and at the top of the steps, a set of double-doors led to the large film room beyond. There were a half-dozen posters - all animations of various styles - with a discovery theme. Of particular interest was Ginga no Katasumi, a Ghibli-styled film about a boy and his sheepdog with nothing but the night sky for company, and 'Journey to the Stars', an intriguing looking film narrated by Whoopi Goldberg (in the English version at least).

Generally they all sounded interesting to watch, even the crazy-assed slapstick looking ones, although one poster managed to irk me a little; a film called Fantasy Railroad in the Stars (released in English as The Celestial Railroad) looked nice (and the Kagaya film studio website has some beautiful imagery), but stuck slap bang in the middle of the poster was a glowing Christian cross. Having seen the trailer (which seems to be for a very pleasant zen-style cgi journey), there seems to be no reason for it to be there, so why was it? It was probably unnoticed or heeded by anyone viewing it and wasn't a problem for them, but again, western religion was creeping in where I personally don't think it should be, and it was becoming increasingly noticeable on my journey.

Anyway, it was all moot. The theatre would not open for the next film until an hour or so later, meaning that the science museum would be about it for my time in Miyazaki, so I headed back down the steps, took a quick look around (by now things were getting pretty busy) and headed out.

Moving into the suburbs towards the Oyodo river, the sights were pretty slim, but the general look of the place was quiet and pleasant. Little parks sat on the side of quiet roads, and neat, meticulously kept but individual houses lined each side of the spotless road. I had the idea of going to the free hot springs down the road. It took a little while to find, not least because it was bloody small, and the map I had got hold of was a little bit misleading as to distances, but I finally found it, helped slightly by it's bright yellow flags outside. The spring was open-air, and seemed to be a small, free offering to passers-by on the back of a full-blown onsen just behind. It consisted of a small bench at the side of a quiet back road, over a small pool of water, constantly overflowing and refreshed by a spring that bubbled down a rocky channel.

Within a few minutes of losing my socks and shoes, and plunging my feet into the hot but bearable water, I was treated to a selection of the local community going about their business. Some people wearing yellow bibs and carrying clipboards came past intermittently; some in pairs, some alone, and some on bikes for a bit of variety. I wondered whether some Japanese Alan Sugar was somewhere setting a stupid task for his hopeful apprentices. A middle-aged lady came over, and smiling took off her sandals and sat next to me. I smiled and said hello and we exchanged a few words. An elderly man passed by sometime later, and given that there was limited room in the spring, I decided it was time to move on, so I got out and perched on the edge of the bench to let my feet dry in the warm sun. The old man smiled and went back to his bike, and rummaging in the basket came back with a handful of satsumas, which he placed in my hands. They looked a bit bruised and slightly warm, but I said thanks and put them in my pockets.

I finally found the river a little way on; a wide stretch of water with the occasional bridge. A high breaking wall had a set of steps, and at the top, I had the choice of following along the top of the wall or heading down to the waters edge. I took the chance to be closer to some nature, relatively speaking, so descended the other side onto the grassed verge. The walk was quite pleasant, and I ate a couple of the satsumas as I strolled along. The grassed path slowly turned into a course rockery as it neared the waters' edge and was populated by the occasional crane, one of which was a little less timid than the ones back home, allowing me to get surprisingly near before it decided I was going to eat it. I followed the river around a sweeping bend, until I neared what the map termed an 'event space' on the pathway above, but turned out at this time, to have no such events.

The path had graduated into a proper riverside way by this point so I decided to stay on top. A decent view of the river on one side, and a row of matured palm plants on the other, many of them heavy with the weight of massive seed spurs, their delicate growing tips protected from ensuing winter cold by a symbiotic relationship with a fern, that could be seen on each tree which wore it like a scarf. To make the walk a little more pleasurable, the pathway was also lined with bushes, dotted with large evening primrose type trumpet flowers, of a fiery pink colour.

Before long, the Tachibana main road appeared, and according to the guide book it was where I should be going to complete the loop. The rather wide road sloped down into a shopping district containing a few municipal buildings with nice views over the riverside. According to the guide there was a temple - the Tokuzenji - hidden cheekily behind some of the frontage buildings. As I headed round them, the sight of a temple roof peeked out now and again from between the modern buildings, but it seemed penned in with no way for the average tourist to gain access. Well off the beaten track, I hear sqwawking and chirruping from a nearby house, which on inspection is filled with cages. My love of parrots encouraged me to sneak a little closer to see what was being kept, but this was a bad idea - the cages went silent, and one parrot in particular fixed it's stare on me - and started shrieking at the top of it's voice like a car alarm mixed with a guard dog. A harassed looking woman stuck her head through the beaded doorway and I quickly went on my way. Sometime later, the squawking stopped and my face regained it's un-luminous qualities.

Eventually, after doing a circuit of the block and finding no way in, I gave up, but as I was heading down the alleyway back to the main road, a woman pushing a bike directed my attention to a little tiny shrine nestled between the buildings. I stopped, and by coincidence so did the lady. Now, if you find yourself talking with someone, don't try to bluff that you know what they are saying when you don't speak the language like I did, or you will get a lot of words said at you with an expectation of understanding in return. Only so much smiling and nodding will work. Eventually, she got the message that I hadn't a clue what she was saying, and instead invited me to pay respects with her at the shrine, which we both did.

Kencho-kasunanomiki street was across the road, and on the map looked vaguely interesting a little further down, the street was lined with green trees, pleasantly dappling the pathway and the busy road. A couple of blocks down was a small Japanese garden. It seemed to be part of the fronting of a large hotel or conference building, although it was open for free to the public. A compact layout of a twisting path arching over the pond a couple of times. In the pond predictably were a large amount of koi, and it was clear why there were so many - they were frisky as hell gathering in large groups and writhing over each other, rising as far out of the water as they could manage and splashing back down into the group. It was certainly sexytime in koi land that day.

Passing the grand government office at a major crossroads I changed my direction back to the main road, and again I was bothered at the sight of not one, but several churches. One had a sign outside that told the story, in dual language of the missionary cause being fulfilled, bringing the Christian religion to those who need it most, the Japanese, whose own religions must be condemning them to hell as we speak. Grumbling and imagining how I would have given the chubby, friendly looking pastor a good talking to if I saw him, I went on my way.
I was feeling a bit peckish by now, so had been keeping my eye out for somewhere to get something. A French restaurant near the churches piqued my curiosity, but I was on the lookout in particular for a Miyazaki delicacy - Chicken Nanban, a variation of Yōshoku that the guide said was on sale in a few select eateries. I took a guess at a large Udon restaurant, mainly because of it's bright and airy interior, and one wall decorated with easy to point out dishes. On the other wall was a mural of several traditional Japanese folk dancing and looking generally a bit mad. The counter was as fast-food like as you could make something like this, a number of chefs behind the counter beavering away with vegetables and large vats of steaming miso soup. The nanban was off the menu, but I was committed now, so I quickly chose an udon dish from the board and phonetically read out the symbols. The Kitsune Udon consisted of a bowl of thick Udon noodles in miso soup with some beansprouts and other veg, topped with two strange triangular fritters. My limited vocabulary recalled Kitsune meaning 'fox', and I hoped that referred to the fritters resembling fox ears, rather than being made from one of them (edit: no). Regardless, it tasted pretty good and udon is always a cheap way to get a full tum.

Waddling out, I picked up my pace a little so I could catch the earlier train as I was running out of things within reach to see. There was a covered market down one of the side streets, with a few flower stalls pleasantly welcoming people in. Unfortunately that was about it aside from a few stalls of knick knacks. The map highlighted a nearby place a little further in called 'Giants Plaza' which turned out to be a baseball shop, so past that I went, and into a model shop. Inside the fusty fluorescent-lit shop, there was little room to move, the long, close aisles overflowing with models of robots, aircraft, superheroes and trains. A large proportion of the back of the shop was given over to model cars, and there were boxes piled high with recognisable and obscure offerings, including the Knight Rider car. Although I'm not much of a model fan, there were some pretty cool models you weren't going to find in many other places here, and if space wasn't an issue, I'd maybe have brought one back.

Exiting north, I found myself on Takachiho street, one of the main artery roads which although pretty devoid of sights, conveniently took me right back to the station. Tall trees and small pools containing waterlilies separated the pavements from the road, and every now and then large winged butterflies flitted from the trees to the warm pavement. In a lovely moment one landed on my hand as I outstretched it, and I boosted it back up to the treetops with a swish.

I returned in good time at 4pm, and got a ticket for the half past to Nobeoka. The platform was busy with commuters but at least this time I had a ticket, and therefore a seat. According to Japan by Rail, the views up the coast between Tsuno and Hyugashi were meant to be some of the most scenic in Kyushu, and early on there were some great sights as the sun began to get low in the sky, but unfortunately at this time of year there were large swathes of wildlife overgrown and wilting, blocking out the views of the shore and everything else.

By the time I reached Nobeoka it was starting to get dark, and I had to find the hotel. The bus station that I would need to use was next to the station, so I took the opportunity to get hold of a timetable. A very helpful bloke brought me inside the now closed bus terminal and helped me find the right one from a shelf of several dozen, which I was very thankful for as there wasn't a letter of English on them. He circled the words for Nobeoka and Takachiho, and with much thanks I left for the hotel.

Nobeoka has a main street that seems to go on for ever. According to the map I should join it at the station, turn left and keep walking until I see it. Which I did. As the light faded entirely and my backpacks made each step more noticeable, I had worries that I might have missed it. 20 minutes of walking later (the map suggested about 5) and I gave up and asked a nearby taxi driver. I was pretty close, and as the road lifted up to cross the Gokase river, the hotel made itself known subtly by it's small neon sign in an almost completely darkened building.

Hotel Review: Hotel Merieges Nobeoka (6440 yen/night, 1 night)
The price was a bit high, but there weren't many pickings for places to stay near Nobeoka station, this was the best I could get balancing price and convenience. It's about 20 minutes from the station, and very nice indeed. It overlooks the river for some nice views, it has free internet, the staff are good English speakers and very enthusiastic to help, and the rooms are luxurious with comfy beds. On some of their non-room floors they have their own restaurants of various themes. I had Chinese on my night (very nice) but they also had Indian, Japanese and Italian. In my dishevelled and care-worn clothes, I felt quite out of place in the poshness. 9/10

After checking in, I asked if I could use their computers, and an enthusiastic receptionist bounded over to the terminals, logging in for me rather than expecting me to do it myself; I'm guessing from the posh, shiny lobby that the place tends to attract people who don't (or can't) do things for themselves. I caught up on some emails, and then after dropping my bags off in the room, gorged on some food in the Mandarin Chinese restaurant (1850 yen). I took a stroll at the riverside to walk things off, and then got myself some sleep. I had travelled far but there was just as much again tomorrow.

Japan 2010: 7 - Where I Clean Blood off the Walls

I knew today it was important to get up and conscious quickly. At 10.30am, my plane to Kagoshima would take off and I had to be on it, or all my future stopoffs would be up the spout. Once I was back on the mainland I could relax, but at this point it was most important to get some sleep. However, long before that I was given a shock.

My world was shaken awake in the middle of the night. There was someone at the door of my room, banging and calling my name. Bleary-eyed, I looked at the alarm clock. It was 3.30am. Barely having the wherewithal to check that I wasn't about to be mugged, I opened the door. The bright light of the landing forced me to lower my gaze; first I saw his legs, and then his body, and finally John's face. His blood-covered face. Barely able to stand, John was stood before me with a confused and horrified expression, looking as if he had been through hell.

Once my brain had caught onto the situation, I helped get him up the steps into the communal room and found him a tissue. The building was empty and quiet, but it was clear John had been here before. Bloodied hand-marks decorated the walls, with splashes of congealed blood here and there on the floor also. It was concentrated in the communal bathroom, where the mirror, walls, toilet - and bizarrely, the pot plant - were all covered in it.

John recounted his evening. After we had parted company, he had decided that the beer needed to flow a little more and so had headed back out to Kokusai. Finding a pub, he had made friends with a couple of Americans and a woman who was a girlfriend of one of them. Things went well - he had even taken pictures of them all larking about - until John received a consolatory hug from the girlfriend after telling her of his girl dumping him. This apparently triggered a jealous twinge in one of the guys, and the resulting beating was particularly one-sided.

Me, John and Aoi (who I had woken up to help sort things out) sat on the steps outside as he recited his story, and a lot more besides. We sat and talked for a while, mostly to try and stop John who was now convinced he was going to leave Okinawa and go back home, from letting this incident spoil his holiday. Eventually, we managed to persuade him to clean himself up a bit and then head to bed, while we got with whatever cleaning materials we could find and started the process of cleaning his blood from off the walls, both inside the hostel and out. At about 5 am, we staggered back to our rooms and tried to sleep.

My already jittery nerves were jangled still more a little later when I thought I heard giggling coming from the street below through waves of sleep, but I was too comatose to put two and two together at the time. I should have gone and had a look.

In the morning, I checked on John, who was sprawled out asleep on his bed. I gathered my things together (which thankfully was 90% packed from the night before) and headed out for a drink from the machine on the street.

Except my shoes had gone.

I had left the shoes under a little rack in the stairwell on 4F just outside my room the night before. Now they had gone. I ran downstairs to 3F. The gate was ajar. John must have staggered through it and not locked it behind him. Then I remembered the voices. My mind rushed to take a stab of the last night's activities - maybe the gits had followed John back to the Sora house, seen my shoes and decided to nick them, thinking they were his. They could be anywhere.

It was all speculation, but I ran barefoot down the steps and out into the street in my nightclothes. The road outside was a picture of quiet; a pedestrian gave me a funny look and a cyclist sped past. And then there was the gently flowing canal that split the road. I looked in vain but I knew that if they had been thrown in there, they would be several hours downstream by now, and there was no way I could retrieve them.

Nori-san was calmly watering the plants on the steps as I returned. I gaspingly explained my situation, and her eyes lit up. 'I saw a shoe next to the bikes', she said. I hurried back down to where the bikes were, and sure enough, one of my shoes was there between them. But where was the other? The bikes were down a dark and narrow dead-end passageway, with a ledge that overlooked a cramped space between it and the next building. There was little hope that I could retrieve anything if it had been thrown down there. I descended to the ground floor and squeezed myself as much as I could into the dark, dirty passage, and peered into the gloom. Nothing.

With a single shoe in my hand, I trudged back upstairs, considering the possibilities of either racing barefoot (or even worse, in those bloody sandals) around Naha to try and find a shoe shop that sold westerner-sized shoes, or hop the rest of the way. I decided to take one final look around the bikes, but there was nothing, so I headed back up the steps. As I turned in the stairwell, something caught my eye. There was a ledge connected to the next building that overhung where the bikes were, and there was something on it. I raced back down, and when stood on tiptoes could just see it - the other shoe.

A certain amount of balancing later and I was just able to reach it while stood on the balcony. Breathing a massive sigh of relief I headed back up to my room, with my shoes firmly in hand. Japanese etiquette could go hang for the moment, these were coming inside with me.

I got washed and dressed, and headed to the communal area. It was about 8.30am, and no-one was up yet, save for Nori-san. I took her to one side and explained the situation as best I could about the blood she might find here and there, John's bruised and battered face, and the possibility of some nicked or vandalised stuff (although shoes excepted, I couldn't find any). Nori-san thanked us for trying to sort it out and bade me farewell. I called in on John, who had by now reduced his sleep to a catnap. We said our goodbyes, and I waved to Aoi on the way out, and asked her to keep an eye on John while I was gone. And with that, I was.

One more small surprise was in store. I waited quietly for the 9am opening of the nearby post office so I could get out some folding for the next stage of the journey, but when I entered my card and tried to remove 20,000 yen, it said I had been refused! In a clammy sweat I tried again with 10,000 yen and thankfully it allowed it. But why had it refused 20,000? Had my account been hijacked? Did I only have 10,000 yen funds left? Had it been emptied thanks to a hacker responsible for my weird Ueno experience? My already jumpy mind was coming to all sorts of nonsensical conclusions, but time was tight and I had little time to do anything about it. There was a plane to catch.

The final few hours of my time in Okinawa had given my mind a lot to think about as I stared out of the window to the beautiful scene I had called home for the past four days. There was no doubt that my experience had been poisoned by the little bastards who had a go at John, but I had also been to many interesting and beautiful places, met lots of lovely people, and I had even semi-acclimatised to the temperature. I can say now that I am home that I really want to return to Okinawa some day, but at the time my feelings were certainly mixed, and my nerves were jangling.

I sat in the same tourist café I had visited on the way in, watching the planes in the same seat as before. I downed a not particularly healthy or breakfasty bacon pizza as I waited, and then lugged the now considerably heavier backpack to the departures lounge. I headed through the security and got on the plane in a rather melancholy trance, not knowing quite what to think of things, and that's how I stayed on the whole flight back.

I arrived at Kagoshima airport just before noon. Coming out of the air-conditioned airport and into the open air, it was refreshingly several degrees cooler. I waited patiently in line for a Limousine bus which for 1200yen took me to Kagoshima Station in about an hour. It took the expressway round the coast and through several miles of hilly woodland before it fell away to reveal the outskirts of the city. I had chosen a hotel close to the rail station specifically to make the next leg to Nobeoka easier (as it was quite a long trip), but there was still the streetcar system to navigate.

Kagoshima is sometimes called 'the Naples of the Orient', which when you see it's remarkably continental-themed city streets, temperate weather and beautiful sea views, you can understand why. The massive and imposing train station is several stories of modern-looking featureless panelling with a cinema, shops and a ferris wheel tacked on for good measure, but move away from it and you are greeted with pleasantly decorated shops and houses, and streetcars (160yen per ride, flat rate) that seem to float along on grassed lawns. It was all very pleasant to ride through, once on the bus, and then again on the tram as it turned out I stayed on the bus one stop too many.

Hotel Review: Hotel & Residence Nanshukan (5000 yen/night, 1 night)

Hidden down a backstreet behind a Buddhist temple, this place is pretty well tucked away from view off the main tram road. The hotel was recently refurbished, and the rooms were very spacious for a Japanese hotel. The staff spoke some English and were very helpful. I spent a very comfortable and luxurious night here in a large bed with silken sheets, and got a free nibble from some Doctor Fish in the lobby in the morning! I would happily stay again. 9/10

I took a lucky guess at the road I needed to head down, every other one seemed to be one of the covered market types often seen in Japanese cities. I dropped off my things and after a rest and a look at the city map, headed out west towards the intriguing forested hills behind the city known as Shiroyama Park. I chose this not just because of it's imposing presence above the city, or it's ideal spot for getting some good pictures of both the city, the coast, and Sakurajima bathed in sea fog in the distance, but because it was last on a snaking route around the roads leading up to it. Starting up the road, I passed a couple of silver statues debating politics and under a giant stone Torii bestriding the wide road. Just beyond a set of koi ponds sunk into the pavement was the Kagoshima Prefectural Museum, which sounded worth a look. It was an old building, kitted out some years ago with various stuffed animals and models in the natural history vein, as well as a few live specimens in tanks. The place was split over three floors, each brimming with excitable kids on a school trip, running up and down the stairs in small groups with little clipboards. I sidled up to the reception desk, slightly unsure if I was over the age limit for visitors, but was instead greeted with some enthusiasm by the ladies at the counter, who seemed happy that a foreigner had come to visit them.

Reflecting back the happy, I smiled and gave them a bow before turning and beginning my exploration. The lower floor housed little more than a few tanks of overly-large fish, but the second floor was quite interesting, giving a history (in Japanese only, unfortunately) of the wildlife in that part of Japan, although the polar bear did look a bit out of place, especially when it was stood over a sea turtle and was being occasionally poked, prodded and hugged by curious children.

The third floor was dedicated to a movie theatre and reading room, and I had arrived about 30 seconds too late for the former, so I took a look in the latter. Quiet and empty compared to the rooms below, the room had generous windows allowing you to look out on the city.

On my way out I was collared by the women again, who plopped a small plastic sachet into my hand - it was a free sample of volcanic dust from Sakurajima's rather angry outburst in 2009. I thanked them and, deftly avoiding tripping over a curious child right behind me, went on my way.

The town map had mentioned a archaeological museum somewhere, but after wandering into the nearby MBC building - what seemed to be the closest match to the spot on the map - I was helpfully accompanied by a woman who seemed sure she knew what I was looking for quite a few blocks away. I ended up at an art museum, and not wanting to cause offence, I thanked her and let her go back to her reception desk. Not particularly wishing to double back and try my hand again at finding it, I headed round the rather large building and took a look inside. The rather grand insides comprised a small free exhibition on the ground floor, and signs to something rather larger up the grand central staircase. Heading upwards, the sections to both the left and right were bustling with young, fashionable types cooing at various pictures on the walls, something I could see from beyond the ticket desk. Feeling a little out of place, I decided to decline, and after using their super-squidgy leather sofa to recheck my position, I left.

The map was being less than accurate. The upcoming castle ruins turned out to be a library (only the castle walls remained) and after scaling them to see what was on the other side (thanks to some out-of-place metal steps) I found myself underwhelmed at a massive grey featureless building containing - from what I could tell - a pre-Meiji exhibit of some sorts. Shame it was closed.

Not having much luck, I exited the generous grounds of the building across a bridge spanning a dried-up moat that must have protected the castle from intruders. Now it sat rather overgrown and in need of some repair. I sighed at the busy road beyond, and decided that Shiroyama Park - the final intended stop - would have to be next. By good fortune, the park had it's northernmost entrance just up from the bridge, headed by the memorial to the retainers of the Satsuma kingdom, whose castle had burned down some time ago.


The noise of the cars quickly subsided as the steep and ancient-looking pathway snaked it's way through the trees. Branches hung low above my head, many of which covered with large cobwebs and spiders that were best left alone. As the pathway straightened and levelled out, it became clear it would be a picturesque but long walk, especially when the map hoved into view, that showed the main path as a rather indecisive snake making it's way with apathy to the summit.

Once I reached the top, having been shown up by several elderly gents jogging their way up as I wheezed and sweated in their wake, the sun was getting low in the sky. This was slightly worrying as any trail down would be steep and done in the semi-dark. However, it did mean that the view of the city would be pretty great.

As I arrived at the viewing platform - an open circle of land covered by a dense tree canopy with a section cut out to see the mountain in the distance - I was greeted by a trio of elderly gents, who might have been waiting for me to arrive as at least one of them had passed me sometime earlier. In friendly but slightly mischievous spirits, they offered to take my picture against the mountain backdrop, but after several attempts fiddling with the settings, got little more than a silhouette. I thanked them and they seemed satisfied with their work, and I took a couple more pics of the rather smoggy city and the mountain beyond once they had gone on their way.

The day was coming to an end and at 5pm the light was quickly disappearing. A cat was stretching out on the warm top of the drinks machine as I got myself a soda. After a quick look at the summit of the hill - a sizeable clearing in the trees that must house several gatherings in the year but unfortunately not today - I headed down the pathway at the other side, a journey that looked much more like it was the one tourists would head up, because it was lined with a selection of souvenir shops, each equipped with an elderly lady who gave a smile as I passed, as they were putting their wares away and shutting up shop for another day.

I quickened my pace slightly with the encroaching evening. At the end of the line of shops was a bus terminal, and it was not immediately clear whether another one would be due at this time, having found myself at the mercy of early stopping times in Okinawa. I decided to ignore the buses and carried on down what appeared to be the walking route, which became increasingly like a tatty and unkempt backwater track as I headed further down to city level. However it did manage to keep itself from becoming impassible long enough for me to make it to the bottom, and by good fortune I emerged out at the giant Torii I had seen on the way in.

After tickling the koi in the pond for a while, I heard my stomach rumble, so I retraced my steps along the route I had taken while being guided by the woman from the MBC building, as I had noticed on the way a Tempura bar over the road. I waved to the MBC woman walking home from her day at work and she gave a cheery wave back, and then I was there. The bar was small and inconspicuous aside from the little sign on the road outside, and sat comfortably next to an even smaller Italian restaurant, in case I lost my nerve. I wasn't given the opportunity. A bald man opened the door as I stood indecisive outside and invited me in. His English wasn't perfect, but he was able to make me feel I couldn't refuse, and the Italian wouldn't open anyway for another hour.

I was the first customer of the night. The man (who was the owner) seemed a little busy once I had got sat down at the long horseshoe-shaped table that comprised half of the ground floor. His head was cocked to one side, holding a phone to his shoulder, seemingly clinching a deal for a batch of fresh ingredients. After a degree of hurried conversation about where I had come from and where I was going, interspersed by more phone calls, he apologised and motioned to what seemed to be his head chef, who was asked to give me the works. With that he disappeared upstairs to more conversations.

A refreshing bit of Oolong tea was accompanied by some strange starters. Some looked like slugs, which I quietly sidled under the plate, and others looked like snails, which I had a go with and were actually quite nice. A bowl of miso soup with mushrooms (nice), a side salad with radishes in sauce (less nice), and then the tempura started coming. Rather than receiving it all at once, the chef unloaded it to the plate as it came out of the pan, so it was hot and fresh. There were all sorts of battered things passed to me; scallops, green beans, cuttlefish (knobbly, chewy meaty stuff), cod, pineapple (odd but very nice), melons, eggplant and a few others.

The boss returned a little later to see me surrounded with plates, trying to keep up with the chef who was fortunately coming to the end of his tempura burst. Seemingly finished with his buying and selling, we talked more at leisure (over a free sherbet ice cream!) about my experiences both this time (I neglected to mention the morning's activities) and my previous trip, and he told me of his passions to expand his restaurant empire, which currently comprises two in Kagoshima and another up in Fukuoka.

Pleasantly full, I left just as the place was starting to get busy. A group of tired-looking older men who had probably just finished a hard day at the office came in and greeted the boss warmly, before heading upstairs to what I assume was a more cosy atmosphere reserved for the regulars. It was 8pm, and now almost completely dark. Although it was still early, the day had taken it's toll on me, and I wanted for little more than bed. I strolled back towards the hotel in the evening air, and after sending an email to John to see how he was, went off to bed.