And have since tried nearly every street food available, and it’s all delicious. Tonight I’m posted up in a fantastic hostel, listening to a Shakespearean torrent whip its winds outside. Glad I’m not camping. And I’m glad to be in a less isolated hotel, with people around the common room to freak out about the intense weather. Last night’s hotel, after I arrived in the port and found what seemed like a decent place to stay, gave me my first fright. At 1 AM, a group of drunk men went down the hall banging on the doors. They hit on mine for a good half a minute or more. Nothing happened of it, and I’m proud of how I handled my fear at the time, but it was a shock in the night.
I have already made four acquaintances here, have learned more first hand of Korea’s recent history, discovered its bustling streets, watched an elderly crowd dance in the subway, and went to the movie theater, so a good first day. If the weather eases up, I’ll probably start a slow ride toward Seoul tomorrow. It still barely takes 10 days going just 60 km each day, so I expect I’ll enjoy the rides more and may get to Seoul ahead of schedule.
Kyoto has many of the few geisha in Japan, and the training process is long. Six months without family contact, a test of skills, then five years apprenticeship as a maiko before becoming geisha, or geiko. Geisha today, or most of them, do not function as high class escorts, as media in the West portrays them. Instead, the perform highly classified dances, songs, and costume for high paying guests at parties. As the BBC documentary features one geisha mother describing it, “It is like having a live flower as your company. ”
These maiko were enjoying a stroll in the good weather in the tourist area of Arashiyama near the bamboo forest.
But once I got out of Nagoya, Nanako’s good wishes must have followed me, because I had the dreamiest ride to Lake Biwa, the biggest in Japan, and found a miraculous open and unoccupied campsite on its shore.
I had no idea what a wasabi root looked like. I can’t say I knew it was even a root. Or how it grows. Or how it is harvested. Or well, anything, except that I like it and it’s green and it always comes in a little pulverized mound next to a few limp strands of ginger in those store-bought sushi trays back home.
If you are similarly ignorant of this little vegetable, this could be a fascinating post, as I went to a wasabi farm and saw first hand how the suckers are grown! Between Nagano and Azumino, the Daio Wasabi Farm offers just such an experience. And a taste of wasabi delicacies like croquettes and ice cream.
Wasabi grows as a rough root, about a hand’s length long for a medium size, with a few broad leaves that sprout from its purple stems. Sort of carrot like, as a comparison. It is farmed in a rocky stream bed, in rows that run perpendicular to the channel. Cold spring water laps between the beds, keeping the plants nourished without sweeping them away. Wasabi needs high humidity and clean water, though it can be grown in soil if lime is blended into it.
To harvest, farmers pull through the beds with a metal rake or pitchfork, gently dragging up the roots and collecting the plants in total. Other workers then remove stems and leaves, which are later used in preparing the wasabi product in addition to the root.
And of course, there’s so many things you can do with wasabi besides pulverize it. It need not always be concentrated into an intense spice, but adds depth to unexpected things like ice cream! Naturally, being the soft cream addict I am, this was a necessary 10AM indulgence.
WWOOFing on a wasabi farm? I’ll think about it.
(*For an overview of the journey so far, here’s a google map for your viewing pleasure)
WE MADE IT!
Hermes and I have cut through the Japanese Alps, him diligently taking each incline under tire while I screamed, grunted, cursed, and scared every passerby with my exasperation at finding myself, unsurprisingly, still in the mountains. I also laughed my own tears dry, and the story has the happiest ending of finally making it to Nagoya, where I had the long-awaited meeting with Nanako, daughter of the adorable Cocopeli restaurant couple I met three weeks ago.
But it was a struggle, oh yes.
In a later post, once all the appropriate photographs are collected, I will detail the best and worst road conditions of Japan thus far. I’m already crafting alliterations and abbreviations for it.
Before that, though, here’s some of the views that the Alps have to offer, and they really make every drip of sweat worth it.