Japan: land of contrasts

The boat trip ended down the canal leading directly into the madness of Dōtombori, the most famous area of Osaka. Muted tones became brighter; a little neon became a lot and suddenly we popped up right in the heart of the action.

Colour everywhere, a mad kind of energy, happy noise and seemingly endless places to eat, shop and have fun. 

Many restaurants were adorned with enormous versions of what they were selling – giant, moving prawns, dumplings, crab, sushi – all looking down on us from above and swaying side to side. We were almost paralysed by choice, wanting to try all the local specialities, finally settling for some of Osaka’s famous takoyaki (fried balls of batter filled with green onions, ginger, crispy tempura bits and octopus), conscious that dinner lay ahead at the hotel.

Even the hotel – W Osaka – had personality. Dreamy rooms overlooked twinkling city lights. Dinner was a taste journey through all the foods Osaka is famous for – okonomiyaki, beef ramen, kushiage skewers – served with theatre and humour. 

Our last day in Osaka was all about shopping and the city does that well, too, from the bargain discount madness of Don Quijote to Chanel and Dior and everything in between. My head was spinning from the invigorating energy. Part of me never wanted to stop, another part craved a gentler pace.

Fortuitously, our itinerary was naturally veering us towards the latter, as we headed north into the countryside.

Thirty kilometres and one-and-a-half hours by car from Kyoto central is Miyama, well known for its traditional, simple style of living. It was like stepping back in time to meander around thatched-roof farmhouses and vegetable plots; Kayabuki no Sato is an area with around 40 thatched houses and even though most are occupied, it’s open for anyone to stroll through.

And just when we thought it couldn’t get better, we were reminded that we would stay a night in one of these houses.

Coming from a relatively young country, we found it quite incredible that the family running the business had grown up in the ancient, dark wood structure with heavy beams; they had always slept on futons on the pale tatami floors and eaten food cooked over open flames in the enormous sunken pit still dominating the dining area.

We opted to have dinner cooked for us by locals. It was such an intimate experience, laughing and chatting with the women in the kitchen, helping them prepare beautiful dishes like tai meshi, chawanmushi and creamy potatoes. It was one of those precious times when you feel like you’ve properly stepped inside a culture, rather than peering in over the tourist barrier.

The family who run ‘Futon & Breakfast’ are well connected and helped arrange other traditional activities. We spent time on a vegetable farm, learning the old ways of planting and composting, and even had a go at thatching a roof. By the look on the master’s face, we probably shouldn’t give up our day jobs!

A walk in the morning was nothing short of magical with the mist swirling round the mountains. I could happily have spent a week here decompressing and pretending my life was all about growing and walking and cycling and sleeping in beautiful old farmhouses.

No matter how many times I visit Japan, it continues to surprise and enchant me. Each time, the multi-faceted country reveals another side, something unexpected and always fascinating.