Kyoto - arrival

It seems to that the success of our holiday so far is not only slow Japan but unplanned Japan. A few days ago I was worried we might struggle to get accomodation in touristy Kyoto, particularly arriving on the weekend when the Japanese have the audacity to see the sights in their own country. I spent quite a time looking online and it was tedious, confusing and unproductive so I just gave up. As it turned out, this was clearly the best thing to do.

We duly arrived in Kyoto after a pleasant train trip from Matsuyama on the island of Shikoku along its northern coast.

Take the fast train to Kyoto
I'll meet you at the station ...

At Okayama we had 15 minutes to get to the Shinkansen which leaves from a different set of platforms entirely. 5 minutes after our train arrived we were sitting in our reserved seats. Cursing the drama free efficient nature of this place - travel is about adventure after all - we jokingly again wished for some real challenge. As always on this pilgrims' journey of ours, our prayers were to be answered, this time by the next day.

Kyoto station is new, huge and busy. We left the station and started approaching likely hotels. They cost over twice what we have been paying and so we returned to the station and found the tourist information office to ask about business hotels like and the like. Even they were too expensive and we contemplated the need to break the budget. Then the helpful (of course) lady wandered off and after a while came back with a leaflet for a ryokan (Japanese style accomodation) which she offered apologetically, noting its Japanese floor sleeping and shared bathroom. We accepted and headed off in a taxi, our first on this trip.

Rosemary's priority in Kyoto was to walk the small canal side alleys that exist in this city still, with their little lanes and old style housing.  So, of course that is exactly where our accomodation was, right in the middle of such an area.

Our host was effusive to an extreme. And I mean extreme. Like Basil Fawlty fawning over the suspected hotel inspector but times ten. I can not do him justice in print other than to say that his obsessive compulsive welcoming and greeting was such that we immediately began strategising how to come and go without encountering him. We have failed at this as, after all, he has home court advantage. One benefit of an OCD host (I would be most surprised if he was not genuinely diagnosable as this) is extreme order and cleanliness. If you can get over your slippers being tidied away before you've taken them both off then this is a bonus.

After a rest we took a walk around where we were staying ending up in a nearby small restaurant for some food and, for Rosemary, plum wine.