Tokyo to Asuka via Ise

 On Sunday we headed for Ise Shrine, 400+ kms from Tokyo, getting to the station early to leave time for breakfast which was, with hindsight a risk as Tokyo station is a business centre station and on a Sunday is a wasteland. However, we found a cafe with Japanese style pancakes. Win!

Then our first Shinkansen all the way to Nagoya. Zoom. Travelling along at, well, I don't know - fast anyway - I waited to reach the outskirts of Tokyo and into a bit of countryside. Wishfully thinking. Urban and industrial, mean industrial sometimes, all the way.  350 kms and no let up. No real demarcation between Tokyo and Nagoya let alone the places in between. Not pretty. Also, although I was excited to be going on the Shinkansen the journey itself was underwhelming. At that speed it is too fast to feel part of what you are going through.

Editorial note: a slight complaining tone has crept into this blog. It is misleading. I am enjoying every moment being here, including seeing the more difficult sides of Japan. E.g. Despite the ubiquitous sheep conversation (see last blog), Ogawa Sensei and his colleagues were delightful and much of interest occurred. It also enjoyed experiencing a bit of their lives and I truly felt honoured to be included in Ogawa's visit to his wife's tomb. So, sumimasen if I seem to be grouchy.

We changed to a local express, a real train, at Nagoya, and the residential and industrial landscape continued unabated. We passed the Port where, I am reliably informed, my Grandmother came ashore from a cargo ship to visit us just under 50 years ago and we met her on the wharf. That her daughter, at 86, is passing this way again is, I think, not a coincidence.

Said local train

This video probably doesn't work 

Getting to Ise was easy (excuse odd alliteration) and the grounds and shrine impressive, at least what we saw of it as the public only has access to the sheine's front gate, the rest being reserved for the royals. There were many cops present with an array of anti-terrorist gear. Quite militaristic. There was a sign in the bus advising that there was a terror alert and the Imperial shrine with its huge national flag is an obvious target. These are Japanese radicals I assume that are the subject of the alert, not Arabic speaking extremists with blow uppy vests.

We had booked train tickets to Ise with the help of the Japan Railway (JR) rail pass people and so when the time came to leave Ise it was our first freelance travel out of Tokyo. Being the tech and organisational genius I am I had researched it on Google maps and had the route planned. We got to the station just in time and waved our rail passes and hurried to the platform. We weren't quite sure which platform was ours and a helpful cop was setting us straight when a train arrived and I made the decision to jump on although by then I had realised we should have got actual tickets to go with our JR passes (surely we could just wave our passes and say sumimasen.

The train was flash with big creamy yellow leather electric seats with footrests and an intranet so you could, among other things, watch a live feed from the front of the train on your iPad. Settling in it began to dawn on me that this was a private line. Not covered by our rail pass. And quite expensive, about $50 each to get to the next stop. Oops. Lesson learned but what to do now?  Well, after a period of remorse at my mistake; fear of the ructions we were going to make in an otherwise smooth system; and guilt for misleading my mother we rehearsed our apology and payment lines and sat back to relax and enjoy the trip which, at last, had beautiful countryside out the window as we sped from steep green valley to steep green valley with little settlements in each, sometimes tucked in the trees. The train tracks seemed intrusive to an otherwise potentially isolated existence.

Result: the conductor walked past us twice without a glance (if only he'd been on that National Park train eh Mary?). We got off at our stop, waved our passes to the Kintetsu Line guards who, for a change were not looking, and then set off for actual tickets to our final destination, Asuka village where after another directional cock up by me we found an old style farm house with tatami mats and Japanese style bathroom. A quick trip by me to the 7 Eleven and we had a beer and snacks, unfolded the futon given to us by the Kiwi WOOFER staying there and went to sleep.