I mentioned that I am staying at a very basic Japanese hostel that caters to bicyclists. The whole place is run by this bent old lady, to whom I will refer as Mama San, following the standard Japanese costume. She is really sweet but also high tech. Trying to establish some conversation she was a bit frustrated I was such a dolt, so she reached for her cell phone, opened her translation app, and we were able to exchange some basic instructions about the bath.
In the morning I took an early shower, but Mama San was already busy picking from the line the clothes that had dried overnight, tidying the yard, and just keeping an eye on things. As soon as she saw me she went into her apartment and brought out my folded dry clothes, and a small plastic bag with a banana and a hard boiled egg. Then she asked me, via her app, if I liked vegetarian food. I said yes, and she immediately followed with an invitation to dinner. Five sharp. Wow!
Then it was time for my morning foray to the city of Matsuyama, which is 40 km away. Once there I visited the Matsuyama Castle, which is one of the finest examples of medieval castles in Japan. I had the feeling that I had seen this before, but maybe I am confusing it with the Osaka Castle or the Edo Castle, both of which I visited 15 years ago.
From there I went to visit the Dogo Onsen, and as soon as I saw the tram station, and the mechanical clock, I knew that I had indeed been here before. But where is the Dogo Onsen bathhouse? I remember it as a wide, squat building, with all the signs of old age, and instead I was confronted with a gleaming shopping center. I think these crazies have renovated the onsen, reputed to be the oldest public bathhouse in Japan, and have replaced it with a super modern building. I am glad I had the opportunity to bathe inside it while in its former glory. I was most definitely boycotting the new building, but as a consolation prize I used the foot onsen, just to be able to say that "I took the waters at the Dogo Onsen".
My next stop was the Matsuyama City Park, which is a bit like Golden Gate Park in that it has a botanical garden, a large play area for children, and the city's archaeology museum. My interest was on the latter, but the signaling was so poor that I ended walking over the whole park before I found the museum. It was a nice museum, pitched at elementary and high school visiting groups. Unfortunately, all signs were in Japanese, so I am sure I missed quite a bit of it.
By now I was getting hungry, and although the idea of having dinner with Mama San was exciting, I remembered the emphasis on vegetarian, so I decided I would like to have a heavy lunch. I have not had seafood for a while, and thought I could go for another round of Hama Sushi. I punched it into Google Maps and was pleasantly surprised that there was one on the way out of the city. It was another delicious meal, and for less than 1,000 yen (about US$ 7) I left very satisfied.
The travel back was uneventful, and I had plenty of time to stop at the supermarket to buy a tray of 8 beautiful kiwis and a carton of mango juice as a present to Mama San. At the appointed time I knocked at her door, and she was very glad to see me (but the living room did not look like I was being expected). She was very pleased with the presento, but pointing to her car made it clear that we were going out for dinner. Double Wow!
I think Mama San must be in her 70's, and her driving skills are "hesitating" to say the least. Hey, if I survived the freeway in Osaka I can well survive a drive around Saijo. Taking a leaf from her book I had downloaded the translator in the Apple apps store, which by the way is a piece of sh.., and we were holding a good conversation/guided tour of the neighborhood, when Mama San pointed ahead to the local Hama Sushi. No, it couldn’t be. She did say vegetarian, and sushi is not vegetarian (I have to conclude that her translator is just about as crappy as mine). As you can imagine I responded with enthusiasm, trying not to let out the fact that I am some sort of expert in the way Hama Sushi works. She was so sweet, guiding me every step of the way, and encouraging me to order this and that … kore, sore, are. Pretty soon she had piled six small plates all around me, and whenever I encouraged her to take a piece she would wave the idea away. In true Japanese fashion, she was taking a secondary role in the dinner party, but I insisted and we enjoyed ourselves greatly, showing each other photos of our families (Mama San lost her husband to cancer last February, has a married son, and two strapping grandsons living in Matsuyama). She was curious about me traveling alone, and about my work as a university professor, and about DJ preparing sushi, Ronnie devouring sushi, and Faby baking bread.
A wonderful lady, Mama San.
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