十八 Overnight Trip to Otaru – Part 2

We crossed the canal on our way to Minatomachi, to explore the warehouse area.

After checking into Hotel Sonia, there was time to head over to the Minatomachi district, for a nosey along the back street that ran parallel to the main canal. The street itself is lined with brick and stone warehouses that date back to the Taishō Era (1912-1926). The sun was beginning to set, which added unexpected shadows to what were already very interesting looking buildings.

Brick buildings, a brewery and an abandoned railroad

The road was lined with interesting brick and stone warehouse buildings.

There were still dirty piles of snow everywhere, but I was glad that they’d melted enough for us to see the buildings’ features. A lot of the structures looked abandoned, but it was hard to know for sure. Certainly the rusted doors in the photo above looked like they hadn’t been dragged open in some time.

It was getting quite chilly with the sun going down, and after walking a little way we were drawn to a brightly lit doorway we could see ahead of us. It was the entrance to Otaru Beer’s Soko No. 1 Brewery, and we decided to check out the interior. It looked warm and inviting.

Left: Me, uncharacteristically drinking a beer. Admittedly, it *was* flavoured with woodruff; Right: a magnificent copper mash kettle, centrepiece of the bar area.

The establishment was in the style of a German beer hall, with the seating arranged around a huge copper mash kettle. I’m not usually a drinker of ale, but I was tempted to try the Woodruff flavoured Weiss beer. I really enjoyed it!

We could easily have stayed much longer than our one drink, but we had to move on as we had a dinner booking for 6.30 pm.

A section of the Temiya Line, at dusk (6.20 pm).

We took a shortcut along the Temiya Line, a narrow gauge former railroad that linked Minami-Otaru and Temiya Stations. At one time, the trains carried both freight and passengers, but the line closed in 1985, and sections of track, such as those we walked along, have been preserved.

Koji in Otaru

We arrivced at Koji restaurant, 2-13-17 Inaho, Otaru, just after 6.30 pm.

When we entered Koji restaurant, we were told that it was fully booked–I guess they thought we were casual visitors, not expecting that a couple of gaijin would have booked ahead. And it was difficult to believe that it was fully booked as we didn’t see any other patrons while we were there–in fact another group (Japanese this time) was turned away.

I’d heard that restaurants in Japan are suffering from people booking and then just not turning up, and we hoped that this wasn’t the case on this occasion, as the service was lovely, and the food, very good. There was additional seating upstairs, so perhaps it was filled with very quiet customers and they’d arrived and crept up the stairs without us noticing them.

Raw fish, Nihonshu, Tuna and Salmon Sashimi, Tempura vegetables.

Amiria and I ordered a selection of small dishes, some of which we shared. The food came out at regular intervals and of course, we complemented our meal with Nihonshu (日本酒).

A bubbling bowl of Yudōfu (Tofu Hot Pot), Tasty Tempura Tomato, Karei no karaage, and a serving of the Yudōfu.

It would be a difficult call as to which dish I liked the most, as they were all so different.

In search of parfait

After we’d finished our meal, and despite being full almost to bursting, (speaking for myself, of course) we weren’t quite ready to go back to the hotel, so we wandered off in search of that truly quintessential Japanese dessert, the Parfait.

The back streets were brightly lit. Amiria standing by a wall of posters.

Although the evening was really quiet, people-wise, the small streets were illuminated festively. Amiria had carried out the requisite research and had a possible destination in mind, so we set off in that direction. I had no idea where we were headed, but she’s never let me down.

Left: Our first sight of Polepole Parfait Bar, viewed down an alley; Right: The entrance was cute and welcoming.

At 8.30 pm, it was still early by ‘going out’ standards, but it was completely dark by the time we arrived at our destination, the Polepole Parfait Bar. It turned out to be a tiny bar, and like many of its type in Japan, was most likely an add-on to the owner’s own home.

When we tentatively pushed open the door, we were met with a small strip of bar-style seating, and a couple of equally small tables that could seat a couple of people at most. The two of us had to squeeze in under a sloping roof–for once I was glad that I’m only 151 or so cm (yes, I’ve shrunk!).

Bliss in a tall glass – a Matcha Parfait with all the trimmings.

Of course, I had absolutely no choice, I *had* to order Polepole’s version of a Matcha parfait. And this one didn’t disappoint me one little bit.

Walking the backstreets

There were many derelict buildings, looking spooky in the streetlights.

After our desserts we made our way back to the hotel, with the aim of looking at the canal one last time, on the way. It was barely 5 degrees Celsius so we walked briskly. Many of the old buildings are lit up at night and I know that a large number are historically significant, but in the semi-darkness we couldn’t really tell which ones were which. It didn’t feel unsafe–that’s the thing about Japan, you can walk just about anywhere at any time of day or night, without fears of being set upon, but the buildings appeared strange to me, and a little eerie–perhaps because there were no other people around, and because many were clearly derelict, with boarded up doorways, and gaping shutters. I was glad when we turned a corner and saw the canal area ahead of us.

The beauty of the canal at night

This is a view taken from opposite the same building, one view looking to the right, and the other, to the left.

It was a calm night and the canal was like a vast mirror, reflecting in perfect detail, everything that was displayed along its edge. I took many photos, and even as I write, I’m finding it difficult to decide on which to post. I think they are beautiful images, but even so, they don’t really capture how the scene looked in real life. It was magical, and I kept seeing a new angle that I *had* to photograph.

It was very quiet and very still. And cold!

I’ve always loved taking photos of reflections. That whole ‘upside down’ effect fascinates me. The duplications are somewhat like a slice of a kaleidoscope image, or a topsy turvy way of seeing the world. The feeling of not being completely sure of which part is real, the top or the bottom… it’s a bit like waking up from a vivid dream that somehow seems more real than being awake. If that makes any sense.

The building on the left is the brewery we had visited earlier in the evening.

I could picture the canal on a summer’s evening, in the main tourist season, with crowds of tourists walking its length. But I liked the lack of people and the complete stillness of everything. Not a breeze, not the flutter of a flag, nor the rattle of a sign. Just the sounds of our footsteps on the gravel, and snatches of laughter or the soft talk of the few other walkers out along the canal at the same time.

Tired and a little overwhelmed

Lit up buildings on the left side of the canal, and our home for the night, Hotel Sonia.

It had been a long day, and when we arrived back at Hotel Sonia, it was quiet there, too. One of the reasons we’d chosen to stay at this particular hotel was because it has an onsen (a Japanese hot spring), so we fetched our tiny onsen towels from our rooms and took the lift upstairs.

We were surprised to find that the onsen was busy–which was unexpected as we’d hardly seen any other guests. There are strict rules about using an onsen; the first, and probably most important, is that you must wash and rinse yourself completely, before you go anywhere near the water. You do this by seating yourself on a low stool, helping yourself to the supplied liquid soap, and using a showerhead to thoroughly spray all the nooks and crannies. A very sensible idea imho. So I was basically waiting for a stool to become free, and because you have to remove your clothes before you step into the main area, I was naked with only my tiny towel clasped to my front.

The main busyness turned out to be in the washing area, as the pools themselves (one inside and one outside) were almost empty. We Kiwis are sometimes a little shy about the thought of stripping off in front of strangers, although I personally think that actually, stripping off in front of people we know would be even worse. But an onsen is very discrete. No-one stares at you, except perhaps your curious grandchildren (but that’s a different story).

If you want the perfect end to a day filled with sightseeing, eating and drinking, then there is nothing better than the experience of unwinding in the hot, steaming waters of a Japanese hot spring.

[to be continued]

十七 Overnight trip to Otaru – Part 1

Map of Hokkaido, showing Asahikawa near the centre, and Otaru (left edge, roughly in line with the ‘H’ of Hokkaido).

I read somewhere that Hokkaido, the northernmost island of Japan, is sometimes described as being shaped like an ‘ishikari nabe’, a type of hot pot dish. This comparison is made due to Hokkaido’s distinctive shape resembling a pot or bowl, with the Ishikari River running through its central region.

Travelling across the ishikari nabe

On April 3rd, my daughter (Amiria) and I went on a road trip from Asahikawa to Otaru, which happens to be sister city to Dunedin, New Zealand, a city I lived in for 25 years. Otaru is a port city, and is situated adjacent to the Sea of Japan, in the northern Shiribeshi Subprefecture. It was originally an Ainu settlement, and the name , ‘Otaru’, is of Ainu origin, possibly meaning, ‘River running through the sandy beach’.

A derelict building in Shukutsu, near the base of the lighthouse promontory.

Although I’ve visited Hokkaido many times, this was the first time I’d actually been as far as the coast (in any direction), and I was looking forward to the experience. Hence, I took numerous photos, and I apologise if this post has a greater emphasis on images than on content.

Heading south

We drove the 170 km journey south-west via Sapporo, following the tolled highway. Around us the countryside gradually showed signs of the Spring thaw, although every so often, even as far south as Sapporo, we came across fields of thick white snow. As we drove I had the luxury of being the passenger so could gaze out at the scenery and I was once again reminded of how the light in the northern hemisphere is quite different from that of New Zealand, where even the distant features are sharply defined. The Hokkaido hills and mountains appeared as if through a hazy blueish filter, with the effect, i.e., the overall ‘blue-greyedness’, becoming more intense as the distance increased. I recalled noticing the same phenomenon over 20 years ago, while driving on long stretches of road from Nebraska in the mid west of the USA, down through Colorado.

The Venice of the ‘wild north’

Once we’d passed through the outskirts of Sapporo, we headed northwest to Otaru, leaving behind the flat plains of the central region and beginning to follow the jagged contours of the hills. There was a briny feel to the air.

Driving into Otaru–quiet on a Wednesday afternoon in early Spring.

At the somewhat subdued time of year that is winter turning to spring, and when the landscape is neither deeply snowy, nor lush and summery, the small towns and cities can look dull and uninteresting, and yet as we drove into the city, my first impressions of Otaru were of a pleasant kind of town. The air felt open and clean, and there were seagulls squawking, rather than crows. I caught glimpses of small craft bobbing close to shore, and even the steep hills rising up behind the city area had a reassuring feel–no doubt due to having grown up in Wellington, and later living all that time in Dunedin. I love a hilly city.

Otaru has a rich history, and perhaps one day I’ll visit again with more time on my hands. I’ve seen the city referred to as the ‘Venice of the wild north’, due to its famous canal, its thriving glass blowing industry and also its picturesque 19th century European-style buildings.

Hiyoriyama lighthouse, Otaru, on a small promontory facing across the Sea of Japan to Russia.

The harbour is situated at the bottom edge of a sweeping upward curve that travels a little to the right, and then stretches up and around to the left, toward Russia. Looking from the sea’s edge toward that curve, you can just make out wind turbines in the distance.

Shukutsu

Shukutusu: View from near the Hiyoriyama lighthouse towards the bay where the city of Otaru is situated.

The Shukutsu area, which encompasses a north-east facing promotory, the Hiyoriyama lighthouse, and an aquarium, originally housed the wealthy tycoons who controlled the herring industry. They built huge mansions where they lived alongside their seasonal workers. Interestingly, much of the herring caught off the Hokkaido coast was destined to be turned into fertiliser, rather than eaten. Over-fishing led to the decline of fish stocks and the herring businesses collapsed in the 1950s.

This collapse, as well as affecting the lives of countless fishing folk, also had a direct effect on the city’s glass-blowers, who, up to that point, made the glass buoys used by the fishing boats. Hokkaido was slow to adopt electrification, so they were already called on to produce glass oil lamps for the outlying areas, and they then turned their skills to producing more delicate items. Otaru is now known for its beautiful glass objects.

Because we basically only had one afternoon to see the local sights (we had to get away early the following day), we decided to (1) visit the city’s two main look-outs, (2) try to get down to the water’s edge so that I could touch the ocean, (3) check in to the hotel, (4) take a walk along the canal, (5) go out for dinner (we’d had the good sense to book a table at a well-reviewed Izakaya), (6) find a place for dessert, (7) walk back to the hotel via the canal, (8) soak in an onsen, and (9) call it a night. I personally felt I’d be quite satisfied if we managed to achieve even 2/3 of the items on the list.

Hiyoriyama lighthouse

So, first of all we drove up to get a closer look at the Hiyoriyama lighthouse, a noticeable red and white striped structure perched at the tip of the promontory.

The views were incredible, and for early April in Hokkaido, it was surprisingly mild and calm; I was only wearing a t-shirt and didn’t feel remotely cold.

Down to the water’s edge

We then walked down the gravel road we’d just driven up to investigate the sea, as this seemed like the only chance we might have to achieve this. In Japan, it’s not the custom to just ‘park on the street’, the way it is in New Zealand, and we could see no other place close to the water where we could leave the car while we paid the ocean a quick visit. In fact, it’s not only ‘not the custom’, there are literally no parking spaces on the sides of the roads.

When we drew closer we found that the only area with access to the water was closed off with ropes and ‘no entry’ signs, but there was no-one around so we ducked under the ropes, walked as briskly as we dared across a flat, dusty area, and then scrambled down a steep bank of large stones to the water’s edge. Once we were out of sight of the road, Amiria sat on the rocks while I scrummaged around for interesting things to photograph. The water was crystal clear, but the stones were steep and difficult to balance on, and the small waves kept washing in, so all I saw were a few sea snails, until some blue fish appeared–they seemed as curious about us as we were about them.

One of the ‘interested’ fish that was swimming around near the water’s edge.

The sun was getting lower and we were reminded to get a wriggle on, so we made our way back to the car, then drove to the Cape Observatory for a different view. And of course I took some more photos!