Today I travelled around 560km west and south of Takayama, to the fishing port of Onomichi (the same latitude as Beirut, LA and Rabat - for anyone still in doubt as to which hemisphere I'm in). I used a combination of the speed-of-light (300km/h) Shinkansen and a slower local line. The Shinkansen is great for the Japanese wanting to cover large distances as efficiently as possible, but I haven't yet become a fan. Uncomfy seats, airplane-style windows and myriad tunnels that prevent more than a glimpse outside (rice-harvesting scenes interspersed with sprawling industrial development; and the backdrop of the densely forested rolls hills that cover so much of the country).
My arrival at Onomichi was bewildering. I had thought that my reservation was at a place called "Ocean view", but fat chance, of course, that this English name would mean anything to the locals. (For reasons too complicated to give here I didn't have the address.) I managed to get directions to the "Chai Salon Dragon" - a bar run by the guest house owner, Harafumi. But of course I got lost. Using the last bit of charge on my ipad I made a rather panicky call, to get through to I don't know who. But 5 minutes later two lads from the establishment found me and brought me to the bar, barely 100m from where I'd just walked, tucked away down a charismatically derelict alley way.
A bar. And no signing in English. So where's the guest house? The place is more a funkily renovated shack. I shouldn't be surprised - staying in someone's home is the airbnb philosophy. But this is extreme: a 60-degree sloped stairway through a workshop into a 4-bunk bedroom that will include me and one of the lads! He'll be joining me there at around midnight, after the (nightly) party that is taking place at another of the airbnb places run by Harafumi. There's a shower room and loo (both with outside access), and a sink where I've just brushed my teeth in full view of the street.
But the shower works fine and the lads are friendly, even inviting me to the party. You'll be astonished to hear that I've foregone the opportunity to feel a middle-aged freak in a cool scene where I don't understand the language. Instead, I've hung out for a while with lad number one, Miko, talking about his no-money, low-materialistic, travelling-light philosophy inspired by his (ex Berlin DJ) boss. He lurves Onomichi because the people are "sweet". As indeed is he. And plans to travel for 10 or 20 years. He has everything he needs, and is totally satisfied with life because he's doing what he loves.
Earlier I made a quick foray into the hugely atmospheric shopping arcade nearby. In need of Imodium for obvious and boring reasons I spotted what looked like a lab or clinic where five white-coated technicians were in some kind of meeting. "Was this a chemist's?", I asked. The reply was ambiguous. A completely surreal scenario then ensued: me asking them if they had Imodium, them looking it up on the internet and checking, with more graphic miming than I would have dared, that they'd understood me. They had. With a mixture of sign language and miming we got to me buying and dosing myself - though not with Imodium (prescription needed). I have no idea what pills I've just popped. Hilarious.
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