Trip Recap

Kanazawa
One of the most delightful aspects of Kanazawa is its dedication to preserving historical areas in the middle of the city, so visitors can easily walk from a posh shopping district straight into narrow, walled streets of samurai houses, several of which are still lived in. A few souvenir shops sprinkle the area, selling sweets with gold in them. A few of the houses are open to the public, and it is well worth it to see the gardens. The inner rooms of Japanese buildings are all predictably similar, whether you're viewing a humble soldier's home or a lord's: tatami mats, sliding doors, displayed instruments, and a family shrine or two. The true indication of a family's status is the loving care that has been put into the garden; and boy, is it worth seeing! Meticulously landscaped streams, banks rich with green moss and old sculptures, miniature trees and blissfully over-fed koi fish that have to struggle just to edge themselves under the tiny foot bridges. Even now, the same level of care is maintained in Kanazawa's public gardens; as I learned when I visited Kenrokuen and saw the caretakers shrouded from chin to toe to ward off sunburns after spending almost an hour hunched over the same patch of moss.

I challenge you to look at that picture and NOT be reminded of those dancing mushrooms from Disney's Fantasia.

And what were they doing? Picking up leaves and other debris from the ground so the moss could be viewed in its naked glory. Wow.

 

 I also got to walk around a geisha house, which looked just like the samurai house but with more instruments and fewer suits of armor. In the geisha district they specialize in making delicate, sculptured sweets out of a sort of gumpaste. They are glorious to behold and not so much to taste.

I also visited a temple that was full of secret passageways and 2 whole floors that were invisible from the outside of the building. The lord of the area, fearing an attack on the castle, fortified the outer temples with hidden weapons and samurai, who could watch the visitors to the temple from behind dark bamboo slats in the doors of closets that were angled to work like one-way mirrors. Even the collection box was a trap; it had no bottom, only a steep plunge into the basement awaiting anyone who was unfortunate enough to be pushed over the edge while making a charitable offering. And, if all should go wrong, it also had a  suicide chamber with 4 tatami mats (4 being the number of death) and a self-locking door that would prevent cowards from changing their minds and fleeing once they were inside the room.

None of these enhancements were noticeable at first glance, and I think that goal was furthered by the enormous, attention-stealing gold altar in the center. It was very reminiscent of the displays you can find in any catholic church, and I was just musing on the similarities between religions worldwide when my eyes settled on the offering plates, stacked high with boxes of Ritz crackers and Pocky candy (biscuit sticks covered in chocolate). So alright, maybe not that similar, but I like their style! ^__^


Osaka
In Osaka, everything’s bigger. The food. The ferris wheels. The aquariums—2,000 tons of seawater bigger, to be exact, and housing several otters, porpoises, and two whale sharks whose wide, placid grins occupied me for hours. And while I wasn’t staring at ginormous fish, I was bathing in a mosque or sinking my arms deep into a stone urn full of green, medicinal mud in Bali—or at least appeared to be, thanks to the interior designers at Spa World.

I took daytrips out from the city, as well. I saw an art museum in Kobe displaying the works of the artist responsible for Gegege no Kitaro; he had to learn to re-draw everything after losing his dominant arm and it was amazing to see the intricacy of his ink illustrations. In Kyoto I saw Kinkakuji, the temple entirely plated in gold leaf, which draws so many tourists during this season that the garden overlooking the temple becomes a sea of sticky flesh. It is every bit as unappealing as it sounds--the tourist aspect, that is. The temple itself was lovely. And in Koka, a little village with only a small train station to advertise its existence, I saw one of the last remaining ninja houses. Evidently they have few problems with vandalism or theft, since I was allowed to climb through secret attics and examine self-locking windows that could only be opened with a slip of paper, revolvers hidden in short knife handles, and rotating walls. I even tried my hand at throwing the shuriken (ninja stars), and failed at hitting the target so epically that the man who trained me could only laugh.

The End

And now, a sidenote:
Japanese sweets are, more often than not, nothing more than a trap for the Western tourist. The Japanese have perfected the aesthetic quality of their desserts and even the simplest ones are like works of art, with delicate colors, textures, and patterns. However, if you should try one of these enticing beauties, you will find the taste (and calorie content) to be akin to that of a plain sheet of paper. The Japanese have no appreciation for butter or even the crowning ingredient itself: sugar. So what happens when America gets its feisty capitalist fingers into the Osaka pie?

This. This is what happens. Yes, that man is there specifically to stop the line from rioting. No, there's not a special sale or anything. I checked.

And now, a bonus sidenote: Japan has some of the biggest bugs I've ever SEEN. They are both illogically huge and clearly mentally stunted, even for bugs. 

 I found this guy lying on the sidewalk, buzzing furiously on his back. When I nudged him with my foot, he clung to it for dear life--even after I gave him a severe poke with my reprimanding finger. Then a bicycle passed us and he fell back to the ground, once more prostrate on his back from shock at the noise.

...In case you were wondering, I left him there that time. Some things just need to be weeded out of the gene pool.