Monday, October 29, 2012
Another cold morning, had some left over bread and bananas, I had saved from Fukushima, and
after a hot soak in the tub, packed up and reached Tokyo central.
My
destination: Uozu. I was thinking about hyperdia.com and the map. Nagaoka and
then to Uozu, I told the personnel at the reservation desk. He spoke good
English and told me “You have eight minutes between the shinkansen at Nagaoka
and the limited express Haruka. I didn’t think twice about that, same station
anyway. Taking in the scenery that passed by as the Max toki double decker
hurtled down through the countryside, passing numerous tunnels enroute, I was
thinking that the Japanese only look at the displacement between two places and
not the distance as they lay tracks.
I alighted at Nagaoka, looked around. A couple of people who had disembarked
scuttled off leaving me and the stationmaster on the platform. Eight minutes
and I didn’t know where to take the next train. I approached the stationmaster
who was busy with the elaborate procedure of seeing the shinkansen off. He
glanced at my reservation ticket and indicated me to wait. The clock was
ticking away and I wasn’t keeping track. As the shinkansen zipped out of view,
the stationmaster locked up his cabin and led me to the lift, raised his hand
showing two fingers and pointed downwards. I got in…he didn’t. I went down two
floors and as the lift doors opened, he was there signalling me to follow him.
He took the reservation ticket from me, flashed it to the personnel guarding
the entry to what appeared to be a station below. As we were crossing the
bridge, I could see the limited express haruka majestically rolling into the
platform. I followed the station master down the stairs to the platform. The
train had halted. We rushed to the front of the train to the first compartment
and the stationmaster urged me to board. I had just enough time to raise my
hand to wave as the doors shut and the train started to move. Whew! Eight
minutes. I vowed never to do this little mistake again.
I was a little upset when I didn’t get a reservation on board the twilight express; the
journey from Nagaoka to Uozu was a compensatory consolation. The train hurtled along the western coast with the waves of the sea of Japan lapping on the trains wheels. The rainclouds marking the horizon were definitely keeping me worried for the weeks plans depended a lot on the
weather.
The train eased through multiple tunnels cut through the hill slopes
abutting the coast. As the train slowed down to stop at the little town of
Uozu, I had only two things in my mind…the buried forest museum and Kurobe
gorge railway.
Uozu,
a quaint little sleepy town on the seaside gave me the impression that time
passed slower here than elsewhere in Japan.
I checked into my hotel just across
the station and analysed the view of the seaside town.
The sun gently downing
in the horizon, I walked towards what seemed like a tourist facilitation
centre. No English, only Japanese. A group of friendly middle-aged ladies
wo-manned the centre and they welcomed me in and flooded me with tourist brochures
of Uozu. I enquired about the buried forest museum…and was disappointed that it
would be closed by the time I reach there. Wondering what to do, I hit upon the
idea of going to the seaside and spending time there. I approached a taxi at
the station and told “sunset” “sea”. The cab-lady appeared startled to see me
but quickly regained her composure and said 1000yen. I said ok and off we went
to the seaside.
She took me to what appeared to be a fishing harbour. I walked
to the seawall, climbed on top of it to watch the anglers busy with their
reels. I had clicked the best sunset I had ever seen, at Uozu.
I noticed a
family: a couple and three children also enjoying the view and with a Canon
camera. I approached them and smiled and with broken English, conversed. I took
a photograph for them with the Uozu sunset in the background. The kids posed
amusingly for the photograph. The cabbie was impatient for her to get back to
the station, and worried that she would charge me more than 1000yen for the
taxi ride, I got back into the taxi and reached Uozu station again. I started
walking along the main street of Uozu and could see the snow- capped mountains
in the distance. I would have walked a couple of kilometres and reached a
supermarket where I restocked my food supplies. On the way back to the hotel, I
walked into an ATM. Not a word written in English. I got out and waited. A
young girl walked in and I requested her to help me. She did and told me that
the button for the English translation was also written in Japanese. That was
helpful!!
At the
tourist centre I enquired about kurobe gorge railway. I wanted to know how to
get there. She helped me with brochures of kurobe gorge railway. I got
directions for shin-uozu station through sign language. I walked upto the
station and looked around in preparation for the next day’s journey. I enquired
about the tickets, but didn’t get answers that I could understand. Rather they
couldn’t understand what I wanted from them. But the stationmaster showed me
the timetable of the double-coach trains from shin-uozu to Unazuki onsen.
Helpful enough.
Dinner next.
The friendly ladies at the tourist centre had pointed to a joint behind their
office where I could get curry-rice. A cozy little place, where I only
struggled to convey my requirement of curry and rice in separate bowls. I went
to bed early, hoping to leave for kurobe gorge early in the morning. Gazing out
of the window, bearing the stinging cold, I could see the blinking beacons
marking the arc of the Toyama bay. The only sounds breaking the silent winds
were the co-co--co-co--co-co of the pedestrian signal and the musical announcement of an
approaching train to the station.
Another cold morning, had some left over bread and bananas, I had saved from Fukushima, and
after a hot soak in the tub, packed up and reached Tokyo central.
My
destination: Uozu. I was thinking about hyperdia.com and the map. Nagaoka and
then to Uozu, I told the personnel at the reservation desk. He spoke good
English and told me “You have eight minutes between the shinkansen at Nagaoka
and the limited express Haruka. I didn’t think twice about that, same station
anyway. Taking in the scenery that passed by as the Max toki double decker
hurtled down through the countryside, passing numerous tunnels enroute, I was
thinking that the Japanese only look at the displacement between two places and
not the distance as they lay tracks.
I alighted at Nagaoka, looked around. A couple of people who had disembarked
scuttled off leaving me and the stationmaster on the platform. Eight minutes
and I didn’t know where to take the next train. I approached the stationmaster
who was busy with the elaborate procedure of seeing the shinkansen off. He
glanced at my reservation ticket and indicated me to wait. The clock was
ticking away and I wasn’t keeping track. As the shinkansen zipped out of view,
the stationmaster locked up his cabin and led me to the lift, raised his hand
showing two fingers and pointed downwards. I got in…he didn’t. I went down two
floors and as the lift doors opened, he was there signalling me to follow him.
He took the reservation ticket from me, flashed it to the personnel guarding
the entry to what appeared to be a station below. As we were crossing the
bridge, I could see the limited express haruka majestically rolling into the
platform. I followed the station master down the stairs to the platform. The
train had halted. We rushed to the front of the train to the first compartment
and the stationmaster urged me to board. I had just enough time to raise my
hand to wave as the doors shut and the train started to move. Whew! Eight
minutes. I vowed never to do this little mistake again.
I was a little upset when I didn’t get a reservation on board the twilight express; the
journey from Nagaoka to Uozu was a compensatory consolation. The train hurtled along the western coast with the waves of the sea of Japan lapping on the trains wheels. The rainclouds marking the horizon were definitely keeping me worried for the weeks plans depended a lot on the
weather.
The train eased through multiple tunnels cut through the hill slopes
abutting the coast. As the train slowed down to stop at the little town of
Uozu, I had only two things in my mind…the buried forest museum and Kurobe
gorge railway.
Uozu,
a quaint little sleepy town on the seaside gave me the impression that time
passed slower here than elsewhere in Japan.
I checked into my hotel just across
the station and analysed the view of the seaside town.
The sun gently downing
in the horizon, I walked towards what seemed like a tourist facilitation
centre. No English, only Japanese. A group of friendly middle-aged ladies
wo-manned the centre and they welcomed me in and flooded me with tourist brochures
of Uozu. I enquired about the buried forest museum…and was disappointed that it
would be closed by the time I reach there. Wondering what to do, I hit upon the
idea of going to the seaside and spending time there. I approached a taxi at
the station and told “sunset” “sea”. The cab-lady appeared startled to see me
but quickly regained her composure and said 1000yen. I said ok and off we went
to the seaside.
She took me to what appeared to be a fishing harbour. I walked
to the seawall, climbed on top of it to watch the anglers busy with their
reels. I had clicked the best sunset I had ever seen, at Uozu.
I noticed a
family: a couple and three children also enjoying the view and with a Canon
camera. I approached them and smiled and with broken English, conversed. I took
a photograph for them with the Uozu sunset in the background. The kids posed
amusingly for the photograph. The cabbie was impatient for her to get back to
the station, and worried that she would charge me more than 1000yen for the
taxi ride, I got back into the taxi and reached Uozu station again. I started
walking along the main street of Uozu and could see the snow- capped mountains
in the distance. I would have walked a couple of kilometres and reached a
supermarket where I restocked my food supplies. On the way back to the hotel, I
walked into an ATM. Not a word written in English. I got out and waited. A
young girl walked in and I requested her to help me. She did and told me that
the button for the English translation was also written in Japanese. That was
helpful!!
At the
tourist centre I enquired about kurobe gorge railway. I wanted to know how to
get there. She helped me with brochures of kurobe gorge railway. I got
directions for shin-uozu station through sign language. I walked upto the
station and looked around in preparation for the next day’s journey. I enquired
about the tickets, but didn’t get answers that I could understand. Rather they
couldn’t understand what I wanted from them. But the stationmaster showed me
the timetable of the double-coach trains from shin-uozu to Unazuki onsen.
Helpful enough.
Dinner next.
The friendly ladies at the tourist centre had pointed to a joint behind their
office where I could get curry-rice. A cozy little place, where I only
struggled to convey my requirement of curry and rice in separate bowls. I went
to bed early, hoping to leave for kurobe gorge early in the morning. Gazing out
of the window, bearing the stinging cold, I could see the blinking beacons
marking the arc of the Toyama bay. The only sounds breaking the silent winds
were the co-co--co-co--co-co of the pedestrian signal and the musical announcement of an
approaching train to the station.
