Kyoto Day One

A little preface, today it is raining so while I'm waiting for it to let up I figured I'd take the opportunity to write about yesterday. Just didn't want anyone to think I'm spending all my time in Kyoto blogging :-)

Having endured some 25 hours of travel and transit time to make it to Kansai Airport, one of the hardest hurdles to overcome was making sure I was buying the right ticket and getting on the correct train to take me to Kyoto. Yet despite the Japanese Railroad's computer not wanting to accept my credit card and a lost in translation moment with the travelers assistance representative at the airport (whom I will readily acknowledge spoke way better English than I do Japanese so any miscommunication was entirely no my part) I made it onto the train, to Kyoto station, and the fifteen minute walk navigating the streets to the hostel.

Hosteling. What a notion. Haven't done this since Israel circa 1993 and much has changed - or maybe the hostlers in Israel are a different breed than what is here. More families than I was used to seeing and I certainly don't feel "old" when looking at my fellow travelers. All in all a congenial bunch, but sleeping in a dorm room will take some getting used to -- hooray for earplugs!

One of the first things I do whenever I get to a new place - after locating where I'll be staying and depositing my bags - is to take a walk around the area and get a lay of the land. Yesterday was no different, especially since I was feeling no effects of jet lag despite having been in transit for about 30 hours. Almost right away after leaving the hostel I passed a nondescript restaurant that I thought was a kushikatsu or yakitori type place and took note of it. Something that I realized off the bat is that unless they put pictures or plastic replicas of the food served within, it is often difficult to discern a restaurant from someones house.

From there I wandered over the Kamo River and came to my first, of what I'm sure will be many, shrines, the Hokoku Shrine. It was quite lovely, made even more so by the cherry blossoms that filled the air with a color a gentle sweet fragrance. The architecture was impressive as was the enormous bell just outside the main gates, housed, I might add, in its own temple-like structure. There was also a line of red-saffron colored gates leading to a smaller shrine that made me wonder if Christo and Jeanne-Claude visited Kyoto.

I left the Hokoku and walked the small, winding alley-like streets that predominate much of this city. Then, I started noticing women walking around in kimonos. First one or two older women, but then more and of various ages. Initially it was almost comical; a stereotype brought to life. Then it struck me, these were not women dressed up for a special occasion or on their way to a Japanese-themed restaurant, but people going about their day in their normal manner. The colors and patterns were beautiful: shades of pink, purple, seafoam green, and all other colors of the rainbow. In their graceful, almost ethereal movements as they made their way down the narrow streets, I couldn't help but see why early visitors (as well as modern ones) would be entranced by them. There truly is something otherworldly about them.

My walk took me back across the Kamo River and back toward my hostel along the takase canal. Again, there were cherry blossoms in full view along the entire length of the canal, heightening the picturesque old style houses that line the banks.

Which brought me back past the little restaurant that I passed on my way out earlier. Although no one at the hostel had been there before I decided to throw caution to the wind and check it out for myself. I soon realized why no one from the hostel had been, it is very much a local establishment. In the traditional way, the door slides open and I walked in through curtains hanging just inside, separating the entry from the restaurant itself. A small, L-shaped bar with about 10 seats looked over into the kitchen - although I would soon find out that nothing was in fact cooked there, just prepped. There was not another customer as I believe they had just unlocked the door for the evening. On the low counter at which I sat was a small plate, pair of chopsticks, metal tongs and, most importantly, a small gas powered hibachi. Now it was clear, this wasn't a yakatori restaurant but a BBQ joint.

There was no English menu, indeed I don't think I saw a single printed word in anything other than Japanese, but the waiters were extremely helpful in explaining the offerings. They repeatedly apologized for their broken English, but tried to explain that they had nothing to apologize and that it was I that was sorry for not knowing any Japanese. So, together we pointed, gestured, and smiled are way through the menu and I ordered sake, a plate of mixed kimchis, and a first plate of marinated meat - I think it was from the end portion of the short rib, but can't be 100% certain. What I do know is that the marbling was outrageous and the marinade sweet with a hint of soy and vinegar. The smoke rose off my personal hibachi and in no time I was taking the glistening pieces of cooked beef off, dipping them in the small bowl of hot BBQ sauce (there was also a sweet, vinegar one),and enjoying the unparalleled flavor of food that is eaten within seconds of coming from off the grill.

Washing it down with the sake and fortifying the meat with pieces of the kimchi and mouthfuls of rice, I was through my first plate immediately. By now more customers had arrived, but most had gone a narrow, steep flight of steps to the small dinning room above. At the other end of the bar from me, however, was an older couple that ordered a slew of dishes, each one being presented from across the bar from the men at the other side of counter. Wanting more and not wishing to interrupt the flow of the workers unnecessarily by peppering them with questions about the various menu items, I merely asked that they prepare for me the same dish as the couple received. A new plate of beef was soon before me. Sliced into slightly smaller pieces than the first - I think it might have been from further up on the short rib or perhaps the flanken - but with the same beautiful marbling and marinade. This time I savored the meat. Cooking a couple pieces at a time, allowing the rest to remain in the marinade until their time, I savored it as each buttery morsel melted in my mouth with a mixture of sweet and spicy flavors.

I could have stayed eating my way through plate after plate, but the food, sake, and travel began to catch up with me and I was soon craving my first night's sleep in almost a day and a half. So, with earplugs in place, I crawled into my bunk and drifted off to sleep, beyond content with my trip thus far and even more excited now for the days to come.