Yellow hats in Kanazawa
When it rains in Kanazawa, the schoolchildren wear yellow hats.
When it rains in Kanazawa, the schoolchildren wear yellow hats.
Metro arrives, leaves, arrives.
In a beautiful location along the banks of the Daiya, an old man has a fantastic little restaurant where you can drink excellent macha and eat the local specialty Yuba.
Today, we travel to Nikko. The name Nikko still makes me think of toy cars, but I am just learning that Nikko Toys of toy cars is a Hong Kong company.
We take the subway to Kita-Senju. It is still unclear to us whether we can buy separate train tickets for the Limited Express to Nikko or whether we should have made reservations in advance. The Japanese train network has several operators, a bit like in the Netherlands. Only in Japan do all those train companies have their own systems of tickets and seat reservations. Those systems are all pretty unfathomable until you’ve used them once. You only understand it when you see it, so to speak. Also, different companies have different ticket offices; in some places, they even have different buildings (like in Nikko, where JR East’s ticket office is 200 meters away from Tobu’s). May we be happy with our public transport card. On the other hand, Japanese trains do always run, and on time, too.
In the end, when we leave the station in Nikko, it turns out that we did something wrong after all (technical story) and kind of moonlighted.
We leave the station and look up against the mountains of snow. We are at 550 meters altitude here, says a sign. We leave our luggage at the tattered hotel with a gruff young Japanese man who barely speaks, let alone in English. The amenities in the hotel room are corny, but the decor is great Japanese, and the view of the village with the snow-capped mountains in the background makes up for everything.
Auckland Airport is home to a friendly shopping mall where mostly local people come to store.
At Ugly Dumpling you can have excellent Chinese food. For the enthusiast, the meal can be expanded to include Chunky Fries with aioli.
Booking hotels is Japan is not hard. Booking.com helps. And Jalan.net. And Google.
Watch out for love hotels, though. These are just among the list of innocuous Ryokans and Western hotels. Fortunately, they are usually easy to spot by their un-Japanese opulent furnishings. Sometimes, it is stated that a room is for adults only. Most reliable, however, are the reviews. A love hotel has no reviews. At a real hotel, Stephan, Juanita, and Kees leave their real-life comments.
In the afternoon, we drive to Te Kuiti to drop off things at the post office that we cannot take with us to Japan. This requires an enormous amount of paperwork because every hairpin and toothpick has to be listed. The lady of New Zealand Post assures us that summarizing everything under the category “Tourist purchases” is absolutely not sufficient.
After this penal work, I go in search of a barber. Following the NZ Post lady’s instructions, I find a barber who, unfortunately, is out for lunch until 1400, according to the sloppy sign on the door. At 14:05, a pickup stops at the door, greeting me with a blast of a horn. A tall Indian gets out. He wears a long white robe that contrasts with his full beard.
He greets me gruffly, opens the door, gestures for me to sit in the barber chair, and wraps a barber’s cape around me. He then turns on the hair clippers and tackles my haircut with the most casual movements.
Within 5 minutes, he whips the cape away again—a new world record.“Cool.”
“Thank you. $25.”
A boy with a 1980s mat slides past me into the barber’s chair. The cape swings through the air, and the clippers I can hear the clippers hum again.
Raetihi is apparently in the process of shutting down. At least half of the stores and business premises on the main street are boarded up, and the population doesn’t seem to believe in it anymore.
Whanganui surprised us nonetheless. Maybe because the weather was nice. The town has a real downtown, a steamboat, and the Durie Hill Elevator. You can reach the Elevator through a long tunnel that runs right through a mountain and then takes you straight up to the top of Durie Hill.
The sun drew tight lines through the city.
Yesterday, we took a water cab in Kiateriteri. In half an hour, we sailed to Anchorage Bay. On these routes, we passed the unusual phenomenon called Split Apple Rock.
From the beach at Anchorage Bay, we hiked to Watering Cove, on the other side of the hill. Watering Cove is a small cove with an unusual design. There is a mini campground where five tents are allowed. The campground can only be reached by kayak or on foot.