Where Heike warriors walked… and bathed!


It was an overcast day but the grey clouds only served to add mist and atmosphere to the hidden valley deep in Tochigi prefecture. From Asakusa Tokyo, it took me the better part of three hours to get to the remote Honke Bankyu ryokan atYunishigawa Onsen. But it is well worth the journey.

From the Villa Fontaine at Shiodome, it was an easy walk underground to the Ginza station where I took the subway to Asakusa. What I love about Tokyo is the connectivity of their buildings with the transport system. Seems like everything is well-planned and thought out. Underground malls and passages connect both JR lines and subways with the major buildings.

From Asakusa Tobu station, with lots of sign language and smiles, I managed to buy a 2-day pass for travel in the Kinugawa/Nikko area which covered both my bus and rail journeys.

I was early and as always, it was interesting to see the cleaning crew on standby at the platform, and then bowing before making their way into the train to clean up the train and reverse the seats.

The train I took was a sleek nosed model called the SPACIA. I had to pay a supplement for this but I think it was worth skipping most of the smaller stations along the way. I was seated across the aisle from a group of excitedly chattering obachan, clearly out for a girls' day out at the spa. Again with smiles, bows and sign language, I asked one of them to take a picture of me and the tiny obachan cheerily obliged.


Passing the wide grey Sumida-gawa, I passed the usual views of Tokyo with all the ferroconcrete structures cheek by jowl, a small patch of grass and tiny playground, schools, workers in a cafetaria having a break, passengers waiting for trains on a platform. All that soon gave way to farmland, running alongside the tracks, bamboo groves, gentle green hills and clusters of houses with the occasional Jizo statue standing guard at some road junctions. As the train snaked deeper into the countryside, we passed mist-covered pools of water, fringed by dark trees. The further away from Tokyo I went, the more of an adventure I felt I was in.

Almost two hours into the journey, the train pulled up at Kinugawa Onsen. Kinugawa Onsen itself is a popular spa town among the Japanese. But I was looking for something a lot more traditional than the many blocks of hotels that ringed the area. So off I went, asking for directions again at the stationmaster's office, just to be clear that I was on the right track. Just outside the station is a large plaza with a series of bus-stands and right on time, with just a few minutes wait, the bus for Honke Bankyu pulled up.

Again, I am always amazed how much clockwork precision went into timing train arrivals and bus connections to fit just right. If this sort of mapping can be done in a country like Japan, connecting even the most remote towns so efficiently and painlessly, why can this not be done in a city like Singapore?

The bus trundled over hills and valleys, passing in the middle of sleepy quiet towns, over bridges spanning wide rivers. About half an hour into the journey, it stopped at Yunishigawa train station, a tiny station in the middle of nowhere. No houses stood in the vicinity. It was just the station and the river. No one got on. I was the last passenger on board. A bit apprehensive, I clarified once more with the driver, who made an OK sign and grinned reassuringly.

On we went for another half an hour - just me and the bus driver on a road that was increasingly narrow. On one side was the tree and foliage filled face of the hill and other, a drop into a steep canyon where a tiny river trickled by on a pebbled bed. There was some construction along the way and it brought to mind Alex Kerr's bitterness about the desecration of Japan's rivers and streams by constant damming.

Finally the bus lumbered into a one-street town and the driver nodded to the left - Honke Bankyu ryokan. I got down and there it was - a double story white and timber building at the background of a gravelled parking lot.

The ryokan must have been expecting me. A ryokan staff, dressed in a dark green kimono, hurried up to me with an umbrella. At the foyer, I slipped into a pair of slippers and the lady of the house who spoke halting English, welcomed me warmly. Someone struck a drum, a deep sound of welcome reverberated, marking the centuries of tradition at the ryokan to announce the arrival of a guest. I fumbled for my camera apologetically and with warm smiles, they struck the drum again.

My room was up a flight of dark wooden creaky stairs and timber beams. The main building, where I stayed, is a 300-year-old building with beams that look uneven in size and texture, floors that have been worn smooth by time and altogether, imbued with the tradition and rustic charm that I was looking for in a ryokan stay.

I had the standard room, which the picture does not do justice to. The sliding doors of the main entrance opened to a tiny vestibule where the slippers are kept. On a raised wooden platform, another set of shoji screen doors open up to the room itself. What you see in the picture is a sitting area with doors that open up to a view of mountain, forest and stream. The area even had a wooden trapdoor that concealed an irori - an indoor hearth. On the left, unseen in this picture, is the wood-lined bathroom with a deep cedar tub.

As the custom in a ryokan, I was given a brief orientation, tea was brewed and I was asked what time I would prefer to have dinner and breakfast. It was all a bit formal but once the kind lady had left the room, I skipped about the place gleefully, unable to stop grinning. I made it! I am here in this wonderful room, with only the rustling of leaves and the murmur of the stream far below.

Dinner was at 6.30pm so I had about an hour or so to check out the onsen. The Honke Bankyu had segregated baths, one an indoor bath and the other a rotemburo for ladies. The changing area was large, well-lit and came with bells and whistles such as hairdryers, warm tea, all the tiny amenities that ladies needed and even a weighing scale - which I steered clear of!

So here's the truth - no matter how many onsen you visit, you're still an onsen virgin until you've bathed with strangers. In earlier visits to Japan, there were only my girls with me in the bath. Here, at the Honke Bankyu, I met my waterloo. I tried not to look at them and I tried to scrub down as quickly as I could but it was hard not to sneak a peek. I'm glad I did because it was good to see that I'm not the only one with all the weird bits hanging out! You do get used to it after a while and once in the water, no one really cares if you look like the Goodyear blimp since everyone's just spacing out or talking quietly to friends.

After the bath, I suddenly realised how hungry I was. At 6.30pm sharp, I crossed the kazura bashi - the vine bridge that linked the old main building to the dining hall. It was all so atmospheric. In the deepening purple and mauve light of dusk, the hills were only dark shadows and outlines. Far beneath my feet, water with glints of light, gurgled past. The lights of the ryokan had come on, warm and orange. Dressed in my yukata, standing there gazing at the scene, I felt as if I had gone back centuries in time.



Dining was communal in a large hall laced with lanterns. We all sat on the floor, flanking our own irori where food was already skewered and standing ready in the sand, gently heated by a small fire. Next to me was my own personal tray of food - always so impeccably arranged and in tune with the seasons and setting. I had read that the food at the Honke Bankyu was unusual even by Japanese standards, so I was prepared for something really special. True enough, it did not disappoint. My favourite was the shiksa sashimi - raw deer meat sashimi, lightly torched. There was no hint of gaminess and neither was the meat chewy.

The waitress patiently tried to explain and describe each dish to me. As we tried conversing a bit, I heard a familiar accent. A couple seated across from me smiled and asked me where I was from. When I told them, they grinned: "So are we!"

They were friendly folk but ack, what are the odds of bumping into other Singaporeans in this remote, far-flung corner of Japan! We chatted for a while but it was clear that they were in a different social strata. Retired, well-educated, clearly well-heeled and well-travelled, they were in Japan tracing an onsen route through highly expensive exclusive ryokans. For them, the Honke Bankyu was a stop in an itinerary punctuated by the best ryokans Japan had to offer. For me, this was a splurge!

Midway through dinner, the owner of the ryokan gave a speech. All in Japanese so I was completely lost. She then went from one party to another, being the gracious host. Yikes, I was not looking forward to that! In fact, I was thoroughly intimidated. I could not speak a word of the language so past the initial smiles, she stiffened up a bit and beckoned me over to the other Singaporean party where she also invited a young Frenchman (but fluent Japanese speaker) to translate. It was all a bit awkward. French guy was cute though.

After dinner, it was a quick exploratory walk through the ryokan. The living space had a large irori as a centrepiece. Above it, near my room is a cosy library corner complete with leather couches, book-filled shelves and an internet corner. Back in my room, I found the table cleared away and my futon already laid out - an invitation to slumber which I gladly accepted.

Snuggled there, bean pillow beneath my head, I gazed out at the night sky - just an insignificant little dot tucked away in a far-away corner of Japan. I liked the feeling of anonymity and solitude. I was glad I made the journey to the Honke Bankyu. I liked the sense of anticipation for the next day's travel and the delicious thrill of not knowing what comes next. But right then, at that time, I could not sleep better anywhere else in the world.



Tsukiji - land of fish and swords

It was grey but very bright at 4.30am when I woke up.

The plan was to head to Tsukiji market, load up on the freshest sushi ever before continuing on the next leg of my solo adventure to Honke Bankkyu. That was the plan.


But it was raining – the cold drizzly rain that drips down your neck and makes you utterly miserable – and it was soooo tempting to just snuggle back under the covers. Plus unlike other hotels, the Villa Fontaine actually offered a decent Japanese breakfast buffet!


I alternated between the mental tug-of-war and actual sleep before I jumped up at 5am, deciding it was time to haul my lazy protesting butt out of bed and get some seafood. I’ve been to Japan twice before and never had the chance to visit Tsukiji. Third time, I was determined, had to be the charm.

The Princess was supposed to come with me but repeated calls to her room went unanswered. So off I went. I was pretty happy to go alone – liked the sense of liberty.

The Villa Fontaine is very well-placed for a visit to Tsukiji – arguably the largest and the most famous fish market in the world. It was either a 15-minute walk or a 3-minute ride via the subway from Shiodome. Had the weather been more obliging, I would have chosen to walk since I could see more stuff above ground than in a train. I would also have loved to cover the Hama Rikyu garden. But it was wet and chilly, so subway it would be!

I got an umbrella from the front desk, hopped down the escalator and voila – the subway was just there. That early in the morning, there were less than five people on the platform of the Shiodome station on the Ginza line. I was the only woman. In any other subway, in any other major city in the world, I would have thought twice about this. But this was Tokyo. About the only other place in the world as safe as this would be Singapore.

Once out of the train, you know immediately where you are from the unmistakeable smell of – fish!

I followed the stream of people to the entrance of the market. A notice on the walls clearly state the new rules: limited numbers of visitors to the tuna auction, no visitors in the market until after 9am. I was already too late for the tuna auction so that was okay, but the other new rule – meh! I chose to ignore it but decided to make a mental note to keep out of the way and to look unobtrusive. Here’s where looking Asian helped – I think!

First impressions – lots of lorries, refrigerator vans, motorised carts, puddles. The place was like an airplane hanger – huge. And that was just the entrance!

I made my way to the outer market – trial and error, skipping puddles and dodging vans and trucks. The outer market is a made up rows of shops back to back. Here were the food stalls and sundry stalls that sold everything and anything that had to do with Japanese food – seaweed, condiments, wasabi roots, pickles, rice, utensils, right down to some really cool t-shirts!

But all that could wait. I had to see the inner market first before all the action died down.

Let me say two things right up front – the inner market is well worth a visit even if you can’t make it to the tuna auction because all of God’s weird and wondrous undersea creations are here – you just have to guess what they are if you don’t know Japanese. Second, wear grungy shoes. The place is riddled with puddles and slippery cobblestones. The motorised cart derby guys do their best to avoid making you roadkill in the market but dodging them may mean jumping into the nearest icky puddle – unless you are very nimble. So you have been warned.


Clams as big as my face, abalone as thick as my fist, wriggly streams of eels, bulbous puffers, all sea creatures great and small, spiny and smooth, they are all there and – apparently – all edible and waiting to be served on someone’s dinner table! The stars of course, were the gigantic tuna and the men who cut, sawed, hacked and filleted them to precise requirements.

The kids would have loved the dangerous-looking metre-long swords, the industrial saws, the axes, wicked-looking hooks and all manner of iron that served to reduce the blood-red meat to more manageable proportions.

The tuna auctions long over, I saw the silver, frost-coated torpedoes lined up on floors, covered by sackcloth. These giant fish looked heavy but the workers just hooked them and flipped them over with ease.

All around, people were looking busy, talking on handphones, writing orders etc. I presume these are the smaller restauranteurs and retailers checking out the day's best buys. Some did look at me curiously but no one said anything about the fact that I should not be in the market before 9am. There were other tourists also wandering about so I was not alone in flouting this rule.



After seeing all that fish, I went back to the outer market in search of my sushi brekkie. You can't get sushi fresher than this, straight from the world's largest fish market!

I saw the line outside Sushi-Daiwa, one of the well-known sushi restaurants in Tsukiji. They had queue poles outside which already told me that the place is used to queues. Plus the line was stretching right around the block! People were queuing in the rain for goodness sake. Look, I love sushi, but I don't love it that much!

There were faded small mom-and-pop shops which sold noodles too and you can tell these were authentic with workers still in their wellies at the counter slurping away. But I was looking for sushi and finally found a warmly-lit welcoming tiny place. It wasn't until I sat down at the teensy sushi bar that I realised that the place was full of gaijin! Wrong place to be since this is likely to be less than authentic and catered more to gaijin tastes! But since I was in already, I sat down. The chef could speak English and he sang while he worked - all in the name of showmanship I guess!

I ordered the largest set which cost 3600yen. Came with all the usual suspects including my favourites - including those glistening vermillion spheres of ikura, a long, generous slice of anago, the lushly succulent pale pink otoro and the orange morsel of uni (sea urchin). The set also included miso soup with large prawns.


Next to me was an Irish girl and her British boyfriend. They were sushi virgins. The girl ordered by telling the chef that she'll have what I have! When her set came, she didn't know what to do with it so I told her about the different types of fishes on her platter, how to eat it etc. But it didn't do much good - they tore apart each piece of sushi to 'share' and all the best cuts were left either uneaten , nibbled at or worse, spat out - very gross! I don't know about the chef but I thought that was an appalling waste of food. They were not the only ones. As I left, I noticed other platters left with many pieces of sushi/fish left uneaten. What a waste of good fish!


I know travel is an experience and an experience in a sushi joint in Tsukiji would have counted as an 'experience' to be savoured too. But to me, travel also means preparing oneself for the experience and if sushi was really new to these guys, they would have been better off trying out the stuff at a kaitan-sushi joint first. Culturally, they would also have gotten more out of the experience had they read up a bit and tried out a bit of the baseline sushi (eg maguro, shake etc) before coming to Tsukiji and trying out all the more adventurous cuts. Call me a sushi snob, but I think the fish deserve better.

Brekkie over, I indulged in some retail therapy and ended up paying too much for two t-shirts at 4500yen a piece. The prints were really nice though, and I did not see them sold anywhere else. I know, I know - I am trying to console myself!

From Tsukiji, I headed back to the hotel to pack. I had a long and slightly complicated journey ahead of me to the Honke Bankyu ryokan in the remote area of Yunishigawa, up at Tochigi prefecture. More on that in the next post!