Japan trip reports on Wordpress

I am shifting the reports on the April 2011 Japan trip to a new site. The new site allows me to have larger pictures amid a faster picture upload time.

Please click on:

http://bigontrips.wordpress.com/2011/04/28/first-day-in-japan/

That's the first post. More will follow. I will try to post and upload as fast as I can but do bear with me if things are a little slow.

I hope you enjoy reading the trip reports as much as I enjoyed making these discoveries in my 15 days in Japan.

Japan in April 2011

In a couple of hours we'll be off to Japan and I'll be taking my maiden flight on business class. To me, that is as good a highlight as the trip itself. Our itinerary as follows: Apr 4 - Osaka - Kyoto (Grande Vista Hotel, Shinsaibashi, Osaka) Apr 5 - Nara - Osaka (Grande Vista Hotel, Shinsaibashi, Osaka) Apr 6 - Yoshino - Osaka (Grande Vista Hotel, Shinsaibashi, Osaka) Apr 7 - Osaka - Nagoya - Takayama (Spa Hotel Alpina) Apr 8 - Takayama (Spa Hotel Alpina) Apr 9 - Shirakawago (Magoemon) Apr 10 - Okuhida (Yarimikan) Apr 11 - Matsumoto - Kiso Valley (Shimosagaya in Tsumago) Apr 12 - Magome/Tsumago hike (Fujioto in Tsumago) Apr 13 - Train to Kii-Katsuura (Hotel Nakanoshima) Apr 14 - Nachi falls - Yunomine Onsen (Minshuku Teruteya) Apr 15 - Kumano Kodo hike and spring matsuri in Hongu (Minshuku Teruteya) Apr 16 - Kumanogawa, Hayatama shrine, Shirahama and Osaka Apr 17 - Osaka? Kobe? Apr 18 - We have the whole day but nothing planned as yet. Flight back to Singapore late at night. Apr 19 - Arrive Singapore early morning.

Abandon Japan?

Every night a horror story plays on the 9.30pm news. The devastation seems total and the bad luck in the chain of events never-ending for Japan. Where else in the world do you get a major earthquake, a deadly tsunami, a nuclear crisis and an erupting volcano all happening in one place? I feel terrible about what has happened to this beautiful country and its people.

Just like on Sept 11, I was transfixed by the images coming out from my TV - that rolling wall of black water, the houses crushed like sticks by water the force and speed of a jetliner. It seems as surreal as planes ploughing into the sides of a skyscraper in New York. Like something out of one of those cheesy apocalyptic Hollywood disaster flicks.


The reports coming out from ground zero depict an apocalyptic nightmare, a wasteland of mud and debris where life barely flickers. But like the blackest night, the pinpricks of light shine through from the people.


Stories are slowly trickling out into the world, of a people stoic, calm and orderly, of solidarity in the face of tragedy, of kindness to strangers. There is little hysteria and panic and blame. No one has time for navel-gazing. Given the fact that their homes were wiped out, their friends and loved ones dead or missing, that their basic necessities like heat, food, gas and water are non-existent, that they live with the shadow of radiation from a nuclear fallout hanging over them, they seem to be remarkably calm. Perhaps no one has time to fear or cry when they're all just busy with the business of staying alive.

But this is typical of the Japanese personality - this stoic acceptance, the pragmatism of living, of moving on. They are not open or demonstrative or exuberant as a people or a culture, but quiet in their actions. Yet these actions are no less powerful or kind. There is a lot of steel which we don't see. Which is why I know and I have hope that they will overcome this - the destruction, the state of their economy, the nuclear crisis. I know they will manage in their own inimitable way and move on.


I flew over Tohoku en route to Sapporo just two months ago. We flew along the coastline. Through my plane window, I saw hills and forests dusted with snow, farmlands painted white, the roofs of houses and dark grey seas far below. I know all those are gone now. It is hard to imagine that they can be wiped out just like that.

We are due to leave for the Kansai region in three weeks or so. This trip is to celebrate 20 years of marriage and we had planned to hike the ancient Kumano Kodo pilgrimage route as well as the Kiso Valley route. On the itinerary were nights in homely minshukus, old ryokans and gassho zukuri farmhouses. Punctuating this would clouds of pink and white as this is prime sakura season.


But now, with the fears of a nuclear fallout and radioactive dust inevitably enveloping the rest of the country slowly but surely, it seems sensible to let this option go and either postpone the trip or go elsewhere. At least, this is what friends, colleagues and family urge me to do.


Yet, I am reluctant to let Japan go like this.


People say to travel like this is the height of insensitivity since thousands have died and the whole nation is clearly in mourning. We should not be intrusive at this time.

But the counter argument is that more than ever, life has to go on, the Japanese economy needs to get back on its feet and while our travel is not going to make much of a difference in the national coffers, every little bit helps. And this is exactly how and what I see the Japanese doing - getting on with survival and moving on.

This is also the season for spring, a time for sakura and the hanami. This time has always been for one to appreciate the piercing beauty that life brings as well as its transience, for the sakura stays on the trees for barely two weeks in a year before the winds and the weather do their work. In spring, while appreciating the blush of the flowers, we understand how cyclical life is - that after a harsh winter comes this beauty. It is an affirmation of life. This year, more than any other in recent history, I think the Japanese will feel this more keenly than ever.

Not sure if it makes any sense but I feel a bit disloyal to abandon my plans now. Yet even as I write, nations are sending planes to ferry their citizens out, foreigners are queuing at Narita for seats on any flight out, some airlines are cancelling flights to the country, government advisories warn against travel, many people are cancelling travel to Japan, trains are packed with people leaving the capital and heading south. To a country reeling from such a huge disaster, whose people offer such wonderful hospitality, it really seems disloyal to just abandon the place. I can understand the fears fuelling this kind of exit rush, but I would feel quite sad to see this if I were Japanese.

I am in no rush to cancel my plane tickets. For now, I will wait and see. Because this little act of defiance at least, superfluous or not, makes me feel a little bit better about a situation that I can do nothing about.

Japan in winter - solo travel once again

2011 is starting out on a great note for this fledgling travel blogger wannabe.

In about three weeks from now, I get the chance to see Japan blanketed in snow. And where better to see the whitest of white landscapes than in Sapporo, Hokkaido?

I am bracing myself for temperatures of -4deg Celcius! And lots of fresh seafood from the icy northern waters, steamy hot onsen in the white hush of winter and a chance or two to take a tumble down a ski slope! I will be in the company of other journalists, and once more, travelling solo sans the family.

Thus far I've seen Japan in her glorious crimson hues of autumn, in the verdant green of late spring and now's my chance to see her clad in white - just before my next date with her in spring where KH and I will see the transient yet delicately pale hues of sakura in full bloom.

I'm looking forward to this! I hope 2011 will be a year when my passport gets filled up and my bags remain constantly packed. Japan aside, we are already logging in dates in 2011's calendar for another Tioman reunion, or possibly Brisbane when Cait goes over for gym training. We'll see.

And as usual, I will be writing, logging in my experiences (slowly but surely - yes I'll get there!) in these pages.

Summer colours of Tioman.

If I could recite the colours of June, they would be for me: ochre, azure, teal, aquamarine, mauve, emerald, sand. Then again, this was in Tioman, where it is presumably summer year-round. But yet, when the tropical squall hits and steel grey skies cloud overhead, the colours of summer vanish, replaced by white tip waves and a grey forbidding sea. The lightness fades into a heavy dull tones.

Writing about this now in December, Tioman seems like a lifetime away. But we had such a good time there that unanimously, we all decided that we would be back next year.

I had hesitated for years about going to Tioman. I was worried I could not take the 2hour ferry ride from Mersing since I was so prone to motion sickness. But Rita's stories were too persuasive and we were also looking for something different beyond the Malacca-KL route, so it seemed like a good time to try Tioman.

We paid about $800+ for two beachside doubles at the Paya Beach Resort which included the return ferry fare as well. Rita had opted to take the bus from Singapore but we opted to drive from Malacca down to Mersing, cutting across Johor's midsection via the hilly rubber plantations and pineapple groves of the Kluang district.

The drive itself was something new since this would be our first time but it proved surprisingly easy - just take the NS Highway from Malacca towards JB, turn off at Kluang and go straight (only one road) towards the east coast. The ride was picturesque and curvy at times, bumpy too. Traffic was light except for the occasional lorry. Neat orderly rows of rubber and pineapple stretch into the horizon.

We arrived at Mersing and spent the night at the Hotel Havanita, just off the main Mersing-JB road. The family suite was generously sized with a sitting area and two bed rooms with a smallish chaise-lounge which Owain took. It stormed really badly the whole night which left us apprehensive for the boat ride the next day but luckily, the next morning was clear and sunny!

I dosed myself with anti-sickness meds before the ferry ride. But the ferry left later than expected - almost an hour late! The ride to Tioman did not feel very long and along the way we passed some pretty small islands with a glimpse of of some tantalising white sand. The ferry stopped at Pulau Rawa about half an hour into the journey. We loved the clear blue waters and the little chalets perched on rocks but later found out that these were so expensive that they did not seem worth the money when we had had such a good experience at Paya Beach.

We finally arrived at Tioman around 2pm only to find the Tans already there and lounging around at the Sunrise Cafe. Lest you think this is a swanky place, it really is just a wooden warung just next to the jetty and along Paya Beach's main and only drag. But with cheap and good food, who cares! It really fits the laidback island atmosphere to a T and we have several fond memories of eating there. The kids lived on the Ramly burgers for practically the whole trip and Owain loved the chicken Maggi soup noodles. I tried to tell him these were no different from the instant noodles we get at home but he insisted these were better! Must be the salty sea air!

There was a bit of a commotion when we checked in though - the Front Desk did not have enough rooms for us. Seems like some overbooking was going on. They could only give us one of the beachfront rooms instead of the two that we booked. There was a deluxe suite available and we insisted they upgrade us to this one. Moral of the story - come in on the earliest ferry to secure your room, even if you already have a booking.

Deluxe suite was great - king-sized bed, king-sized bed/sofa in the living room, big jacuzzi and outdoor shower - all elicited wows from us. Until we realised there was a distinct smell of sewage coming in from somewhere nearby.

But that detail didn't bother us because our time was mostly spent outdoors in the water or on the beach. From this point on, the hours just rush past in a blue-green-ochre blur.

This is a tiny island within wading distance of the resort's beach. There was a sliver of white sand beach. The waters were crystal clear but the barnacle-encrusted rocks were a hazard and the cuts and grazes on the kids were testimony to this. Just a little offshore was the fast-fading remnants of a once colourful coral garden. While some still maintained their colour, most were already bleached. Sadly, it seems this is the situation all around Tioman, the island being just another victim of the relentless tide of global warming and warmer seas.

Island sunsets are often memorable. The ones on Tioman were no exception. Interestingly enough I thought the colours were muted instead of showy - no bright blazing orange balls, just a dull bronze that slowly sank into the sea, leaving a bronzed trail over water.

Dinner was sea food cooked in various ways, all of them palatable. Was the food really good? Or was it the company, the pink glow on the faces of the children amid the chatter of friends that made it so? We don't really care. Dessert was the incredibly cheap stick of Magnum ice-cream from the mini-mart down the lane, made even sweeter by the fact this was RM4 instead of SGD$4! Hanging out with ice-cream and friends, peering into the darkness of the sea and knowing the next day was another to be filled by more sun and sea... that was a really good feeling.

Morning belonged to the beach. Later in the afternoon, as the sky turned a bit grey with the promise of rain, we headed inland to the waterfalls and a lovely private pool carved out of rock. We had to cut through another smaller resort to get there, this was a more budget, laidback version of the Paya Beach.



You certainly don't see laundry lines like these anymore. They really brought back nice memories of a different, slower pace and time.

A short trek over a murky creek, upslope on a gentle jungle trail and there it was. The pool could fit us all in - 10 kids and 4 adults from both the Tan and Chong broods and another family, friends of the Tans. The rock pool was great! Water was clear right through to the sandy bottom on the pool, but icy cold and took some getting used to. Occasionally a crab or two would come out from under the rocks and give a good nip as punishment for us invading its sanctuary. There were other pools further up but these were deep and not suitable for the younger kids.

The day ended with another visit to the rocks of the tiny island adjacent to the resort. Striding on the sandbar with water pushing against my legs, the sun on my shoulders, my body unused to exercise felt sore. Still, I had the satisfaction of knowing that at least here I was getting more exercise than I ever would back home where it was so easy to just revert to my slug-like existence.

With the younger kids on a kayak pushed by the men, the older kids and adults had life jackets on as they snorkelled and swam around the coral garden. At least that's what most of them did. I was just busy flailing my arms about trying to flip myself over like a turtle on the wrong side and alternately clutching KH in a panic trying not to drown.

Poor man, on his part he was trying NOT to drown since I was using him as a life preserver. You can tell by now that water is not my best element and that it has been years since I actually swam and not just splashed about in the baby pool keeping an eye on the kids. Add that to the fact that on a good day, my hand-eye co-ordination could be said to be only 'developmental', and you can imagine the panic I was in to be floating (a) in the open sea and (b) with nothing but a life-jacket to keep me afloat and not fish food.

Still, when I did manage to get my gears in order, the glimpses that I caught of the coral garden revealed a world of pink, purple and blue, with flashes of yellow, silver, black, teal and orange occasionally darting past my line of sight. Sometimes these were glowing and luminous. Petrified though I was, I had to concede it was fascinating and very pretty. Just amazing. Who knew that life under the sea was really so colourful and lovely? And all this while I just chalked it down to snazzy cinematography in documentaries and skillful lighting in aquariums!

So, yes it was beautiful and pretty and all that, but it still felt a bit surreal to be floating in what seemed like a giant aquarium tank to me. It occurred to me, rather uncomfortably, that here I was at the bottom of the food chain.

The others loved it though and there was non-stop chatter about all the discoveries they'd made, chief of which was the sting ray they'd seen half hidden beneath a rock. Ivan found a dead baby black-tipped reef shark and that ended up on our dinner table that night as sambal shark - yummy!



By day's end, there was a pleasant soreness in my body, and despite the use of sunscreen, my shoulders were dull pink from the sun. But it felt good. It felt a bit sad to know that this was our last night and we had to leave the next day.

But leave we had to. Good to know that we all decided, pretty unanimously, that we would be back in 2011. There are still plentiful green nooks we have not fully explored, unknown coves to be kayaked to and just the sheer green-blue waters to plunge into.

Going home

Morning at the Honke Bankyu.

Woke up to bright sunlight flooding the room. For a minute I thought I overslept till noon. The light looked like the morning was already well underway, but actually it was only 4am. The morning mist coated the hills around Yunishigawa onsen, lending it a rather dreamy vibe. It was lovely to sink back into the futon and drift back to sleep.

Here's the vine bridge and the annex across the river where I had dinner the night before. Breakfast, however, was in the main building. It was a cheery affair with a generous buffet. Honestly, I had no clue as to some of what I was eating but everything tasted good! I liked the shishamo, the soft eggs and the onsen tamago. Gohan, as always, in Japan, was light and fluffy - a huge improvement over what we get in Japanese restaurants here in Singapore. Maybe its the water.

After I checked out, I left my bags in the reception area of the ryokan and went for a walk around the river. I still had some time to kill before the bus arrived.

Spring had arrived and flowers were out in bloom. Dandelions, marigold... the riverbanks were a riot of colour. With the warm breeze and blue skies, the teal-green of the water, it was one of those days when you just want to take a deep breath and feel great to be alive.

Across the new red lacquered bridge, there was a tiny shrine and small cemetery directly in front of the ryokan. But what was a great find was the tiny pool in a hollow of rocks. That was a natural hot spring where hot water gushed up from a slash in the rocks. It was just too tempting to remove my shoes and socks and soak my feet in the pool. The fact that there were rough steps carved up from rocks leading to the pool and an absence of bath/shower facilities made it obvious that this was meant more as footbath. So I sat there, feet in water, gazing at the ryokan across the river, insects buzzing around and a slight wind played with the branches above. In all honesty, I wish I didn't have to leave, or that this moment would just freeze in time. It was a very idyllic spot on a lovely day.

But regrettably, I had to go. The shoes were waiting. The bus was coming and 6000miles away, the kids would be clamouring to go pick me up from the airport. My 'me' time was coming to an end. But I was glad it ended on that note, at the tiny hotspring pool, before I had to return to Tokyo, to Singapore and the rest of my life.

True to form the bus arrived exactly on time. We trundled back the same way we came and once again, my journey in reverse, I was alone on the bus ride. Back at the JR Yunishigawa onsen stop, the bus stopped its engine while the driver took a break. He sportingly took a picture of me with my pack on the empty bus. I also asked to skip across the road to take this picture of an old rail bridge and the lake. It was an incredibly scenic place.


Back in Tokyo after three hours, I had some time to kill before catching a train back to Narita. At Asakusa, I was again tempted to go to Sensoji but found the crowds overwhelming. I did make a quick round of Nakamachi dori for cheap souvenirs - in particular Owain's request for a tiny samurai sword before I took the subway back to Ueno where I stuffed the backpack into the lockers at the Keisei Ueno station. I bought my ticket for the Skyliner and then wandered for a bit around Ueno park, seeing the Kannon temple which the kids visited. I had missed seeing this in 2007 when I had to make the long commute back to Chidoricho station and Kangetsu ryokan to search for that blasted brand new Burberry we lost!

The Kannon temple was quiet. I took the opportunity to do what I usually do, write an ema tablet and hang it up. I was in good company. Around me were ema tablets written in Korean, in Chinese, in Spanish, in French, in Russian. It was a place of hope. I liked reading the messages. A Taiwanese (presumably since it was written in the long-form Chinese) woman gave thanks and expressed her love for her husband (newly-wed) and requested for a baby to come their way. One in French asked for blessings of happiness and health (deciphered from the remnants of very rough rudimentary French that I still remembered).

I asked for health, happiness, peace for all of us and for Cait to get into the national training squad. And so far, its been more than half a year and Kannon has looked upon us favourably! Perhaps that Taiwanese lady also has the baby she asked for!


The afternoon was getting uncomfortably warm. As I stood by the lotus pond near Shinobazu pond at the Benten Hall, an Indian man asked me for directions. Guess what, the guy was also from Singapore! For a tiny nation like us, we are either an incredibly well-travelled lot or the world is really a tinier place than I realised! This journey was just full of chance meetings with Singaporeans!

I could not leave Tokyo without a last go at some sushi. I remembered a stall in Ameyoko across from Ueno. I didn't have much time but I thought I could just make it. It took me a good 10minutes to walk into the market, past the fish stalls, the dried goods stalls, the garment outlets etc before I spotted the colourful stall front. This was a place we had seen the last time we visited Tokyo in 2009. I remembered the cheap plates of sushi-don in various mouth-watering configurations blown up in colourful photographs and was determined to have a go at this.

Oh so tempting... should it be ikura-don, or maguro-don? Or uni? I gave in to the bowl of pale pink minced toro with ikura. Sitting at the tiny stall, a paper cup of tea and gulping down the fish - this was what I enjoyed so much about being in Tokyo. Great food, inexpensive sushi, a street-side food experience in a lively market.


From here, it was a brisk walk back to Keisei Ueno, catching the Skyliner back to Narita. At Narita, I was foolishly forgetful and absent-mindedly tried to get past immigration with Owain's tiny samurai sword still in my bag. I was stopped, bag searched and scanned several times before they realised it was the toy sword. I pointed out to them that this was plastic, helpfully jabbing myself in the arm to demo. They hemmed and hawwed and made lots of polite noises. I realised I was making it difficult for them to say no. At that point, I really wanted to just give up the sword but they were extremely helpful and apologetic. The immigration officer walked me out back to the JAL check-in counters where the staff (with more animated bowing, nodding, smiles and rapid-fire Japanese) took the sword from me, dropped it into a cardboard box and checked it in.

It was a bit embarrassing and I was vexed with myself for making this sort of dumb mistake and inconveniencing everyone. But they were very good about it and I was escorted back through immigration without re-joining the queue. So that experience really summed up why the Japanese are so polite to a fault, and so well-known for their service culture! Had this incident taken place in another country known for hostile lengthy interrogations at immigration where visitors are known as 'aliens' (take a guess) I don't think I would have had such a gracious or kind reception.

So ends my solo trip to Japan. I really liked this trip. I liked being on my own and I had good experiences all round. I thank the Japan National Tourist Organisation, JAL and the good people of Tokyo Disney Resort for making this trip possible.

Now, looking forward - Japan in early spring 2011! But before that, look out for posts on Tioman and Hong Kong.

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.