Since arriving in Shiga, my calendar has been cluttered with meetings, orientations, and ceremonies, which all (very inconveniently) take place in the capital city, Otsu. On the upside, though, Otsu is a somersault’s distance from Kyoto, which is a pretty rad city to hang out in. So the other night, after a--shhhh--tedious day of job orientation, some friends (Gillian, Paul, Erin) and I headed over to ye olde city of Kyoto in search of an alleged Chinese beer garden and a foreign-language bookstore.
I had reserved a room for myself at the Kyoto Tour Club Youth Hostel a few days prior so that I wouldn’t be forced to grab the (ridiculously early) last train home to Nagahama (10:30pm!). The nicer hostels fill up super fast in Central Kyoto, which Natalie, Chris, and I discovered a couple weeks ago. That night, we ended up renting a teensy tatami room in Eastern Kyoto, which the three of us shared like, I don’t know, guinea pigs in a Happy Meal box. (Luckily, Natalie and Chris let me sleep between them, so it was all-in-all a very cozy experience). The room was only 1700 yen apiece, except we had to pay 100 yen for a 10-minute shower, plus 300 yen for a towel (but we just dried ourselves with the sheets they gave us to sleep on). Anyway, this time around, I had reserved a bunk at the ‘best hostel in Kyoto’ (according to Lonely Planet). I was excited.
Earlier in the evening, the other JETs and I wandered around, ducking into the foreign-language bookstore, which ended up having an impressive selection. The American magazines, however, cost a way lot of yen - 1500 for a copy of National Geographic (that’s like 13 bucks). At the suggestion of my friend Gillian, I ended up buying a copy of the collected works of Emily Dickinson (on whom Gillian had written her college thesis). Billy Collins writes the intro, which is always bittersweet.
Eventually we found the Chinese beer garden, which was really pleasant. We ordered enormous bottles (oobin!) of Asahi and sat on the patio above the river. And afterward we bought beer and sake from the convenience store (conbini) and went all the way down to the river, where we sat until, one by one, we parted for our trains home.
Around 9:30 I left to look for my hostel, as the latest check-in time was 10.
I didn’t get there until 1am.
In my defense, navigating Kyoto (and every other Japanese city) is reaalllyyyy harrrrrd. This is a glimpse of what a typical side street looks like in Kyoto - impossibly narrow, unmarked, and poorly lighted at night. When I got off the subway at the station closest to the hostel, I attempted following the two-bit map from their web site (which I scribbled lazily into my back-pocket notebook). It wasn’t working. Soon it was after 10, completely dark, and I had no idea where I was (and I had to pee real, real bad).
Just as I was giving up to go spend the night in the train station, I was approached by two passersby. One asked (in English), Scuzeme, do you know where the Tour Club Youth Hostel is? And I almost started crying I was so happy to be accompanied in my wayfaring misery. The two travelers were from South Korea. They had actually arrived in Kyoto the night before, but were unable to find the youth hostel that night either (so they slept in a manga comics shop that stayed open all night). At that point (11pm) my hopes for finding the hostel were completely shattered, but, for the hell of it, I joined them in their search for cheap accommodation.
After inquiring into the whereabouts of the mythic youth hostel for over an hour and to more than 15 locals (one of the Koreans I was with spoke perfect Japanese in addition to his perfect English), we finally happened upon two women (Kyoto university students, I think) who had heard of the place. These women were clearly headed home (it was almost midnight and one of them was carrying a bag of groceries), but, still, they insisted on helping us. After the five of us hemmed and hawed over the vague details of my handwritten map, the kind women proceeded to walk us to the hostel. They insisted on it. At first I thought it must not be far; why would they bother otherwise? But after walking for 45 minutes I was in disbelief over their generosity. Soon after, we were at the front door to the hostel - the women had walked us the entire way! I felt horribly helpless not being able to convey how appreciative and stunned I was by them. All I could do was ask my Korean friend the word for kind in Japanese. I said it over and over, bowing. They seemed to understand.
By the time we got to the hostel, however, it was almost 1am. Latest check-in was 10pm, and the hostel implements a curfew of 11pm. Luckily, I had a reservation, and in true Japanese altruism, the hostel employees had left me a note telling me where my dorm room and bunk was. I wasn’t turned away. My new friends, on the other hand, did not have a reservation, so they couldn’t stay. I felt awful watching them sulk away, and part of me wanted to continue wandering with them until morning, when I had to be back on the train to Otsu for day 2 of job orientation.
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