When I pick up my ticket for the Hikari Shinkansen from Kyoto to Hiroshima the agent explains that I must change trains at Shin-Osaka. From there to Hiroshima I am in the Number 4 Silent Car. No conversation is permitted and no announcements will be made. Continue reading
Always I am a little uncertain here. Am I making myself understood? Do I understand correctly? Am I being properly polite as I fumble along? Am I going in the right direction? Am I (really) on the right train? Continue reading
Travel is often a great hurry through unfamiliar corridors, fretful fussing over directions, or anxious haste to make connections. Other times you must wait in stasis: moving about from place to place encapsulated in a vehicle or waiting your turn for flights, trains, agents and what not. Continue reading
The moment I met Masa Shiroki in his Artisan Sake Maker shop shortly after it opened on Granville Island, I was conscious of the fact that he was making history. (And I was lucky enough to be a storyteller on the sidelines.) Continue reading
Kyoto Kitcho in Kyoto Hotel Granvia. Photo credit Hotel Website.
As often happens, travel presents an awkward gap between 11:00 AM check out and that train, bus or flight not leaving until hours later. My bag, stowed safely under a net in the hotel’s lobby, waits for me to pick it up closer to departure time. I’ve quite finished anything I want to do in Kyoto and can’t take an interest in one more thing before my train leaves. With one exception—I must eat. Continue reading
Last time I had to fit a tight schedule, barely an hour to give to Ryoanji’s rock garden, the ultimate in Zen art. A simple rectangle, clay walls, gray-white sand, fifteen stones, and a veranda for viewing. That’s it. Continue reading
I’m here at Tofukuji Temple, one of five primary Zen temples in Kyoto and yet another National Treasure (which claims the oldest Sanmon or main Zen temple gate in Japan), because a friend insisted I must see this this temple on my return from Fushimi Inari. Honestly, I almost gave up the idea after the quad-killing trek up and down that hill.
Serendipitously, I did not. Continue reading
It was one of Vancouver’s loveliest (and record breaking) runs of fine weather since 1985. Eighty kilometers east here in Abbotsford it was about the same, though a tad warmer inland than seaside. Of course, after the summer solstice there’s always that wincing awareness–little by little the light diminishes daily. However, when the day is loaded with gold from sunrise to sunset it is possible (especially with a fine glass in hand) to mind less. Continue reading
I can spend hours in Japanese depaato (department stores), a pastime I keep in reserve for those jet-lagged, rained-out or low-mood days. Each time I return to Japan, it’s an addictive way to ease into the abrupt change in culture, habits and time zone; a way to relax, move about and stay engaged without expending much energy. Continue reading