Our travels in Japan up until that afternoon had been nothing short of a dream. We rotenburo-ed in Hirayu, the skies blanketing the rocks and trees with white powder, the steam from the springs rising creating msytic and magic that is onsen. Lying back on a smooth rock with only your chin above the water, your heartbeat slows, your muscles surrender, and you are returned to nature. The snow-covered mountains ahead stare upon you lifelessly. You tell yourself - remember this. Burn this into your eyes and come back one day. Remember that it is not the material things. It is not stress. It is not money. It is this place that is real and surreal. Remember it.
We walked hand in hand in Shin-Hirayu’s quiet deserted streets and find ourselves at a temple at the edge of a magnificent bamboo forest. Abandoned by its people over the winter, the snow from its roof meets the ground and back. The continuous days and nights of snowfall has transformed the landscape. The snow is beaming white, untouched, inviting. On these sacred grounds, we snowfight. Then darkness descends and the icicle lights at Taruma Falls leave us forgetting the bitter cold for a second to marvel at God and man’s creation. We huddle, only half believing we are truly here.
My friends become his friends, and the years that have passed had no bearing on our reunion. Still the most hospitable people on Earth, they opened their homes, shared their food, their time and companionship with us. My Japanese mum takes us to some of the most exquisitive restaurants. The crab degustation, the premium lunch sets, the desserts, the presentation, the indescribable flavours designed to complement every dish in any order, the relentlessly exceptional service confirm, once and for all, that those audacious so-called Japanese restaurants everywhere else are blasphemous. My Japanese mum makes a traditional breakfast in the morning, of grilled fish, rice, miso soup and pickles. Instead of a slow ship ride across Lake Ashi in Hakone, my Japanese mum takes us across the river in a speedboat, Mount Fuji all to ourselves and as visible as if it was next to you. With my Japanese mum, there’s always reserved tickets, membership parking at Sogo, presents, petite cakes, fresh fruit and pocket money. And now she’s so happy she has a son too…
By the time we arrive in Noboribetsu, we had been travelling for 2.5 hours from Takayama to Nagoya, stayed a night, taken the Meitetsu line to the airport in the morning, flown 2.5 hours to Sapporo, and bus-ed for 1 hour to a terminal to be picked up by the hotel bus for an extra 15 minute ride. Was any connection delayed? Were they even a milisecond late? No. Japan may be one of the last places on Earth where a promise is a promise. So if you say you’re going to be somewhere and you’re not, it’s not their fault. It’s yours.
Speaking of promises, the tourist shuttle from Shin-Hirayu back to Hirayu is by far the most amazing one. It’s the dark of night in negative degree temperatures. The tourist shuttle schedule promises to take this route which is our only possible way back to our ryokan in Hirayu. Forget taxis. Forget door-knocking. You’re somewhere in the Northern Alps, and God knows how you got here. We arrive early at the bus stop, but already we fear it may never come. We hadn’t crossed paths with any other tourists since daylight. No one even knows where we are. Our mobile phones don’t work. Why would a shuttle bus show up at all? Anywhere else in the world this may be the case, but at the one second past the time of a solid promise, the bus was already in sight. We get on, and are the only ones till we arrive home. The driver is ever so courteous, he’s in full uniform down to the white gloves. And there it was, another promise of service kept. Where else in the world?
So Noboribetsu (no berry-berry, as we lovingly call it) was two things to us. Onsen. And a crab feast galore. And unexpectedly but unsurprisingly, the best vanilla ice-creams this side of Hokkaido has to offer. Hot spring water is in such abundance that it’s used to melt ice on the streets in the morning.
Takayama was sitting on a white parkbench in front of Japanese-French pattiserrie, working on this gorgeous Teddy Bear bun and other petite treats. And then going inside for another Teddy Bear, onegaishimasu. Takayama was the romance surrounding the Old Private Houses when it started to snow. It was believing that the platter of dishes served to our private room was such great value, and then a sumimasen at the door surprises us with the next chapter of our amazing degustation course at our ryokan.
In Kyoto’s Gion, I sighted a Geisha in a getaway car. Gavin missed it, so we stood at a strategic corner and fabricated every conceivable conspiracy story of the happenings within every closed-door teahouse or private residence on the street. The black cars with tinted windows – those are the ones to look out for! All he wanted was one sighting. Just one, of a Geisha ducking her carefully arranged head into a black car with tinted windows. It must be waiting for her. She must come out some time! That would make it all worthwhile. Alas, we left our strategic corner, defeated by the mysterious Geisha, who probably had a camera right over our heads to make sure we were gone first…
Kyoto, was also about fresh tempura, prepared meticulously, piece by piece, at Yoshikawa. It was a celebratory dinner, intimate and befitting of the occasion.
The morning of Valentine’s Day, we devoted our day to the eastern parts of Kyoto. It’s unthinkable to ever be short of inspiring photography subjects in Kyoto, but i promised Gavin that where I would take him photos couldn’t capture, and words couldn’t describe. But I will and can say now, that I love Ginkakuji more so than Kinkakuji – the humble wooden cup over the jewel-encrusted one. Or maybe it was being there with someone special…
At 4pm, my work was done. We arrived at the awesome Kiyomizu-dera. I fall in love with the place all over again, and I can see that Gavin begins to as well. I’m pleased….
We follow and pass two ladies in kimonos and camera phones, along a trail at the side of the hill. The views grab us and we put our cameras away for the moment. From here, the iconic roof of Kiyomizu takes foreground over the city of Kyoto. I hadn’t realised how far upon this hill we were and I’m out for words to describe how beautiful and heavenly this place truly is.
Just then, Gavin steers me to his direction. And if only I would be less awkward and embarrassed, and realise that this would be that pivotal moment of a girl’s life where she has one important life-changing question to answer.
Gavin proposes to me.
I accept. He reaches into his pocket and slips the ring on my finger. It’s exquisite, but it’s not just any ring. It’s perfect in every way, from the design to the person who gave it to me. All this time, my mind races furiously as if the stories of my life rewound and played back in full speed. Of how everything that had led or could have not led to this day, of the wrong people God had to place in my life to awaken me to the most wonderful person now in my world, of them who deserved not even the most wasteless thought, but whom yet I let crush my spirit, but for just one person, the right person, to bring me back to life. Of the mistakes I’ve made. Of the lessons I’ve learnt. Of closing doors finally, truly and forever. I begin to cry from the closure of an old chapter and the beginning of a new. And then I laugh when he whips out a box of chocolates from his opposite pocket and says, “Oh by the way, here are some chocolates too’. God, you have to love him!
So there we are – Gavin and I are engaged.
The Japan diaries took quite a change in format, but the 2nd last day of our trip was completely unplanned and unexpected but in the nicest way… Like Japan was not already one of the most endearing and loved places in my heart, there’s now another reason…for me…for us…
- Kiyomizu-dera, Kyoto, Japan. An idyllic setting for a special question…
Perhaps coincidental, perhaps random, or perhaps…aptly chosen. You decide.
