Tag: tourism

日本: The Return

I am back. That’s the overriding feeling in my heart at the moment. I am back in a country that my love for is certainly no new thing, and will undoubtedly be strengthened every time I come back in the future. I am back, but in reality I was back yesterday although I definitely needed those 18 hours of sleep… my apologies for skipping out a day. Put it to a combination of very little sleep during my journey here and a hearty lunch of tonkotsu ramen, gyōza and a beer. In any case, I think I made the most of yesterday and today:

For those who don’t know, Fukuoka sits on the northwestern coast of Japan’s most southern island, Kyūshu. Similarly to my situation upon arriving in Hanoi, check-in at my accommodation was later on in the day. This meant that when I arrived in Fukuoka at 8, I was going to be on my feet for all the day until check-in, which I was overjoyed about. I turned up at the hostel before it opened. Therefore I grabbed a quick breakfast of fried chicken and rice at the Family Mart which is literally 1 minute from this place. I dumped my ungainly bag and rucksack with the nice Korean man at the desk and set off. I had a map, a one-day subway pass and rusty Japanese: the city was my oyster.

I head east, and in the vague direction of what my map tells me is a temple and accompanying park. I find it, and find myself completely and utterly alone. I thought this was weird but it was a bit early (very early) when I was walking around. There is nothing more I like than walking around aimlessly with a map in a new city. The temple complex was wonderful. Incredibly serene. There wasn’t a soul in the vicinity. Hall after hall, I roamed what turned out to be the Shofuku-ji Temple of Hakata Old Town until I had seen all of it. It made me fondly remember Hanoi’s Temple of Literature. Soft, muted and discreet, these wooden temples calm the soul. It must be wonderful to worship in these places. A Japanese zen garden and paper shoji doors are unbeatable though (sorry Vietnam).

A short walk away was the Kushida-jinja Shrine. I’ll describe by photos. What really hit hard however, was the proximity in which the two separate yet parallel religions of Buddhism and Shintoism exist. It hammered home the syncretic and habitual nature of religion in Japan; salaraymen on their lunch breaks, schoolchildren, old ladies, couples etc. all pop through for a quick prayer. Religion doesn’t seem particularly religious. It is more habit and tradition. It’s beautiful and harmonious to see the fluid and casual nature of worship in this country, as Michiko Maekawa describes it (Maekawa, 2004). See my dissertation for more on this subject (Chatriot, 2020 – to be written).

After I wolfed down a bowl of ramen as aforementioned and a completely unnecessary beer (the necessity being debatable), I was slammed hard in the face by exhaustion. I checked in to the hostel, climbed up into my little capsule bed, and crashed.

I woke up naturally. I actually am finding more and more than I despise this sensation. My plan was to 1) eat 2) go to the Sumiyoshi Shrine 3) get on a train to see the Dazaifu Tenmangu Shrine. All of these were completed. The Sumiyoshi Shrine is a delightful little shrine in the middle of this bustling metropolis, and the attached Rakusuien garden is just as soothing as any Japanese garden. Walking through the urban temples and shrines accompanied by the chirping of cicadas and the smell of damp cedar wood trees is a slightly surreal experience that I am struggling to come to terms with, as I’m not entirely sure the fact that I am where I am has set in yet.

A short train ride away is Dazaifu. A small touristy town with the self-titled shrine, the train ride emphasises the seemingly-infinite Japanese suburbia that is only broken up by the hills surrounding Fukuoka. I was blessed by the sun poking its head through the blanket of clouds that shrouds Japan during the rainy season, and the balmy 27°C and the breeze made even iPhone pictures look good. Also my film camera seems to have stopped working. I think the battery is dead and I curse it for doing this to me today of all days. I went up the hills to find a small shrine that I assume most tourists did not know about. A hidden gem for sure.

A successful two days. I’ll probably go to bed a normal time tonight, and maybe eat 5 different packs of instant noodles from the Family Mart (because they’re awesome, duh). I saw a hornet today and it rightfully put me in its place as I tried to take a shortcut to a little shrine. I won’t make the succeeding entries as long as this, but this is a two-day gig. I can also confirm that I have readership in 2 different countries thanks to blogspot’s stats tool, so I’m glad to see that at least someone is reading this. I hope it gives you as much pleasure as it does me.

Good Morning Vietnam

It’s fair to say that waking up in a country completely changes your impression of it. Although I had been out until 1:30 in the local bars and set an alarm for 9:30, I still woke up at 7:30? Something about it bothered me (understandably). Perhaps that it was that I had failed to combat jetlag, or perhaps it was the unfamiliar feeling of a natural wake up after an actually decent night’s sleep… something that isn’t exactly common for those who know me. But what this did bring to me was the sensation of rising and waking up at the same time as my gracious host, Hanoi. It set the pace for my last day, a pace that put me in tune with this vibrant city and this is exactly what I want to nail every time I go to new places – harmony.

I should mention that I was accompanied today by George and Laura (shoutout you guys rule) who called me over to join them while seeing me eat spring rolls and drink beer alone in the bar. Legends.

I’ve never really been one for sweet breakfast, so breakfast consisted of more freshly fried spring rolls, poached eggs and fresh fruit. I don’t think I could have wished for a better start to the day. Except maybe a better internet connection. The plan for the day was to 1) visit the Mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh 2) visit the Temple of Literacy and 3) eat an actual Vietnamese Pho. This seemed simple given that all three of these things are available within a 2.5km radius. But, there is a large soggy catch. You have to also factor in the walking part. The walking part, which feels more like a swim given that every step is equivalent to losing 5 gulps of bottled water. You haven’t actually sweat properly until you can literally feel the sweat passing through your pores in a 33°C humid nightmare.

The Mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh is massive. The building in itself might not be all that massive, but only when you take into account the size of the accompanying parade square, the residence museum behind, and the sheer amount of security at least two blocks in every direction can you understand the profound importance of Ho Chi Minh and what he represents for Vietnam. The Communists love monumentality in the commemoration of their leaders, and it is not by coincidence that the feeling of walking around this place reminded me of being inside the Kremlin. Minus the buckets of sweat. The museum behind it and the small cool rooms of Ho Chi Minh’s residence embellish Ho Chi Minh’s semi-mythical position as a man of the people, in the true Communist meaning of it.

The Temple of Literature is a marvel. If one could describe the Mausoleum as Holy for the Vietnamese, for me this 11th-century Confucian temple is just as holy. Beautifully designed, long straight paths, symmetrical perfectly-kept gardens and soft, muted serene wooden halls that put even the most humble of Japanese temples to shame. The Chinese influence is glaringly obvious. But perhaps this is what makes it beautiful, another piece to the puzzle that is Vietnamese heritage. A place to worship success in studying, it felt particularly gratifying and appropriate to present my student card for a discounted entry. Hoan Kiem lake and this are probably two places I have discovered that will be extremely difficult to not daydream about once I get home.

The day has been long. It has been sweaty. It has been tiring. There was no more fitting way to conclude my time in Hanoi by the epic “train track street” sandwiched between Kham Tien and Le Duan. It’s rare to have bars and restaurants spilling onto actual functional train tracks, as I found out when the train passed less than a metre away from my face. I also almost forgot to mention that I did get a Pho in the end – and yes, it was as good as people say. It was bittersweet climbing into the taxi to the airport, where I am writing this, as I felt that I had had a full taste of what this place could offer me. To bring it back to harmony, it didn’t feel right to leave just as the city began to come alive for the night. A shame for sure, but I won’t let it leave a bad taste in my mouth. And honestly, the Banh Mi I just ate was pretty decent, so Hanoi and I are parting ways on good terms.

There aren’t many other cities where I have experienced so much new in a mere 2 days. Where else would I have showered in a hotel lobby, seen a rat the size of a small dog, been offered more cocaine and more prostitutes than in my entire life whilst also paying my respects to one of the most peaceful men of the 20th century? Hanoi. It’s hard not to love this place. I will be back, and with a vengeance and a thirst for more of the craziness.

Tomorrow I will be in Fukuoka, Japan. I am anxious and excited to rediscover this country, this time on my own so Hiromu Onogi if you’re reading this, I hope you’re proud of me.