While Andrew and I had very much enjoyed our time in Kyoto and Tokyo, we wanted to get out of the cities a bit, experience some more relaxed Japanese culture, and maybe even catch a glimpse of Mt. Fuji. We decided to spend two days and two nights in Hakone, a rural area to the west of Tokyo popular with Japanese tourists.
After searching online through a large selection of accommodations including hotels, resorts, Airbnb, and Buddhist temples, we settled on a reasonably priced ryokan, a traditional Japanese inn. Our ryokan also had an onsen onsite, which was practically a requirement for me. An onsen is a natural hot spring; Japan is a volcanically active country, so there are lots of places where the ground water is naturally heated to (or above) hot tub temperatures. The water in an onsen is also a bit murky as a result of all the natural minerals and sediment. Since we stayed at the ryokan mid-week, we were the only guests for most of our time there, which meant we had exclusive access to the onsen whenever we wanted. In a word: delightful.
Our room was of the traditional style: shoji, tatami mats, and simple pillows and cushions on the floor for sleeping. Whenever we were staying in the ryokan for a little while (sleeping, eating breakfast, or relaxing in the onsen), we'd rock the robes and slippers for maximum comfort. Breakfast was prepared by the lovely owners and thankfully mostly vegetarian. We were served while seated on the floor in a private room with hot tea and a heater, which was much appreciated on the slightly chilly mornings.
The day we arrived was dreary and rainy, so after checking in, we didn't accomplish much beyond making a trip to the grocery store across the street for some snacks and adult beverages and soaking in the onsen for a while. Hakone mostly shuts down at 8:30, so after grabbing some Italian food at a nearby restaurant, we were stuck with not much to do. Between the pre-stocked refrigerator in the room and our grocery purchases in the afternoon, we were adequately supplied with sake and Japanese beer, so we decided to party it up in the room while watching Lost in Translation. Yup, super cliche. It had been a while since either of us had seen the movie and we were pleasantly surprised to see how much more of it we recognized and appreciated.
The next day's weather was much nicer, so we set out to hike up Mt. Kintoki, one of the peaks of the Hakone caldera and, more importantly, the closest trek to our ryokan. It was moderately difficult and all uphill, but luckily the weather was cool and cloudy. We saw a few friendly Japanese folks on the trail and about an hour and a half after we started, we arrived at the foggy, wet, cold summit. On a clear day, Mt. Fuji is clearly visible, but we had to settle for fleeting glimpses in between the dense clouds as we sipped hot chocolate and coffee in the small cabin at the top. I was annoyed that I had hauled my camera all that way only to be thwarted by a whiteout, so we made sure to take some photos with the summit's elevation marker. And an axe, because, hey, why not, right?
For the rest of the day, we took advantage of our 3-day transit pass and rode various modes of transport, a common tourist activity in Hakone. Between the bus, train, funicular, and ropeway, we got to see a lot of the countryside and its mountains, trees, gorges, and rivers. Parts of Hakone are incredibly green and lush and I was reminded of Ithaca on multiple occasions. The ropeway took us over Owakudani ("Great Boiling Valley"), a volcanic area with many steaming sulfur springs. Tourists are advised not to stay too long there because of the poisonous air.
While we were there, we tried some of the famous black eggs; the shells turn black as a result of boiling the eggs in sulfurous water. The insides taste like... egg. Andrew opted to break one of his eggs on his forehead, much to the delight of some onlooking Japanese tourists.
After taking the ropeway and a bus back to our ryokan and soaking in the hot water for a while, we walked down the street to a small strip of three restaurants and decided to press our luck with the Japanese one (the other two were some variety of European). As luck would have it, they had an English menu and a specialty plate of veggie sushi, which would be the only sushi we had during the entire trip.
As we were finishing our drinks after dinner, the drunk, middle-aged woman we had previously noticed sitting at the bar walked over to our table, smiled, and in slow, deliberate, struggling English, said to us: "I... hate... America." Not sure how to respond, Andrew and I looked at each other and laughed. Very quickly, our waitress came over and ushered the woman out the door. To this day, I'm still not sure if that woman was being politely hateful or didn't know we were American or just didn't know what she was saying. It was the only anti-American sentiment either of us noticed during our time in Japan, but I'm still not sure if it was genuine or a terrible mistake. In any case, we didn't let it get to us since we were more confused than insulted. If anything, it made me wonder if the older Japanese generations still harbor anti-American feelings, if only behind closed doors. As we left the restaurant and walked down the street, we glanced in the window of the restaurant next door and saw the middle-aged woman hitting the sauce at the bar inside, which was good for a laugh.
With nothing else to do and nowhere to go, we cracked open a laptop again and polished off the rest of the beer and sake; thank god our ryokan had Internet access. On this night, we entertained ourselves with J-pop videos in the name of being culturally educated for our next trip to a karaoke bar. After listening to more J-pop than I care to admit to, I'm still not a fan as it's just too cloyingly girly and cutesy. However, I did find a male J-pop song that's legitimately good; I find myself listening to it regularly even now that I'm back in the States.
After another night on tatami mats and another traditional breakfast, we packed up our things, caught the bus to the train station, and took the "romance car" (not joking) back to Tokyo for our last weekend in Asia.
Full photo album: Tokyo and Hakone
After searching online through a large selection of accommodations including hotels, resorts, Airbnb, and Buddhist temples, we settled on a reasonably priced ryokan, a traditional Japanese inn. Our ryokan also had an onsen onsite, which was practically a requirement for me. An onsen is a natural hot spring; Japan is a volcanically active country, so there are lots of places where the ground water is naturally heated to (or above) hot tub temperatures. The water in an onsen is also a bit murky as a result of all the natural minerals and sediment. Since we stayed at the ryokan mid-week, we were the only guests for most of our time there, which meant we had exclusive access to the onsen whenever we wanted. In a word: delightful.
Our room was of the traditional style: shoji, tatami mats, and simple pillows and cushions on the floor for sleeping. Whenever we were staying in the ryokan for a little while (sleeping, eating breakfast, or relaxing in the onsen), we'd rock the robes and slippers for maximum comfort. Breakfast was prepared by the lovely owners and thankfully mostly vegetarian. We were served while seated on the floor in a private room with hot tea and a heater, which was much appreciated on the slightly chilly mornings.
The day we arrived was dreary and rainy, so after checking in, we didn't accomplish much beyond making a trip to the grocery store across the street for some snacks and adult beverages and soaking in the onsen for a while. Hakone mostly shuts down at 8:30, so after grabbing some Italian food at a nearby restaurant, we were stuck with not much to do. Between the pre-stocked refrigerator in the room and our grocery purchases in the afternoon, we were adequately supplied with sake and Japanese beer, so we decided to party it up in the room while watching Lost in Translation. Yup, super cliche. It had been a while since either of us had seen the movie and we were pleasantly surprised to see how much more of it we recognized and appreciated.
The next day's weather was much nicer, so we set out to hike up Mt. Kintoki, one of the peaks of the Hakone caldera and, more importantly, the closest trek to our ryokan. It was moderately difficult and all uphill, but luckily the weather was cool and cloudy. We saw a few friendly Japanese folks on the trail and about an hour and a half after we started, we arrived at the foggy, wet, cold summit. On a clear day, Mt. Fuji is clearly visible, but we had to settle for fleeting glimpses in between the dense clouds as we sipped hot chocolate and coffee in the small cabin at the top. I was annoyed that I had hauled my camera all that way only to be thwarted by a whiteout, so we made sure to take some photos with the summit's elevation marker. And an axe, because, hey, why not, right?
For the rest of the day, we took advantage of our 3-day transit pass and rode various modes of transport, a common tourist activity in Hakone. Between the bus, train, funicular, and ropeway, we got to see a lot of the countryside and its mountains, trees, gorges, and rivers. Parts of Hakone are incredibly green and lush and I was reminded of Ithaca on multiple occasions. The ropeway took us over Owakudani ("Great Boiling Valley"), a volcanic area with many steaming sulfur springs. Tourists are advised not to stay too long there because of the poisonous air.
While we were there, we tried some of the famous black eggs; the shells turn black as a result of boiling the eggs in sulfurous water. The insides taste like... egg. Andrew opted to break one of his eggs on his forehead, much to the delight of some onlooking Japanese tourists.
After taking the ropeway and a bus back to our ryokan and soaking in the hot water for a while, we walked down the street to a small strip of three restaurants and decided to press our luck with the Japanese one (the other two were some variety of European). As luck would have it, they had an English menu and a specialty plate of veggie sushi, which would be the only sushi we had during the entire trip.
As we were finishing our drinks after dinner, the drunk, middle-aged woman we had previously noticed sitting at the bar walked over to our table, smiled, and in slow, deliberate, struggling English, said to us: "I... hate... America." Not sure how to respond, Andrew and I looked at each other and laughed. Very quickly, our waitress came over and ushered the woman out the door. To this day, I'm still not sure if that woman was being politely hateful or didn't know we were American or just didn't know what she was saying. It was the only anti-American sentiment either of us noticed during our time in Japan, but I'm still not sure if it was genuine or a terrible mistake. In any case, we didn't let it get to us since we were more confused than insulted. If anything, it made me wonder if the older Japanese generations still harbor anti-American feelings, if only behind closed doors. As we left the restaurant and walked down the street, we glanced in the window of the restaurant next door and saw the middle-aged woman hitting the sauce at the bar inside, which was good for a laugh.
With nothing else to do and nowhere to go, we cracked open a laptop again and polished off the rest of the beer and sake; thank god our ryokan had Internet access. On this night, we entertained ourselves with J-pop videos in the name of being culturally educated for our next trip to a karaoke bar. After listening to more J-pop than I care to admit to, I'm still not a fan as it's just too cloyingly girly and cutesy. However, I did find a male J-pop song that's legitimately good; I find myself listening to it regularly even now that I'm back in the States.
After another night on tatami mats and another traditional breakfast, we packed up our things, caught the bus to the train station, and took the "romance car" (not joking) back to Tokyo for our last weekend in Asia.
Full photo album: Tokyo and Hakone
