Wow the heat and the humidity really hit us here, so much more so than in Tokyo. Within a kilometre of the Ryokan we had little riverlets of sweat trickling down our arms and Rin realised that wearing medium dark clothing was not best for hiding our body's clear enthusiasm for regulating body temperature.
The day started off with a walk to the start of the "Temple Walk", a well trodden path that brought us to our first temple of the day, Kiyomizo-dera. An impressive pagoda greeted us before turning round for a rather splendid view of Kyoto, the heat haze reminding us why were were feeling so moist. Many of the temples require an admission fee, usually between 300¥ and 800¥ ($5-$10), no small amount given the number one can visit in a day. Other temples do not require the fees and it appears to have no rhyme or reason as to which ones do and which ones don't. The two most impressive temples we saw were free.
After continuing along our predetermined path and the sauntering of fellow temple walkers we went down two of the prettiest streets we've seen. The guide book reputes them to be the prettiest streets in the whole of Asia, though I doubt all streets have been walked, the streets were certainly pretty, certainly pristine, romantic in many ways, and "cute" in that perfectly presented way. We spent some time slowly progressing along them, eagerly soaking up the interesting architecture and shrubberies. A host of photos tell the story.
We also stopped at a charming little restaurant called Omen, famed for its Udon noodles. I have to say, it was very tasty and the method of serving was most intruiging. First of all you choose from a menu, no great shakes there, but from the menu you're essentially deciding how to have your noodles. There were a variety of ways, all being either hot noodles or cold, then either with a set menu A or B. We neglected the set menus in favour of a tempura theme, actually Rin made her choice and I followed, having learned my leason early on in the trip that she had an uncanny ability to pick really great meals from completely incomprehensible menus.
First a small platter of exquisitely prepared vagetables is brought out with the instructions not to eat them, at least not yet. After that two bowls of broth and then shortly after a plate of tempura. The instructions essentially meant you made your own flavour (I thought lazy chef but apparently this is quite an art, and a sound marketing ploy for getting folks to come back no doubt). Into the broth you add two little wooden spoonfuls of sesame seeds with seasoning, then some of the vegetables, a warning given to add "little at time". From here you add a small number of the thick Udon noodles, again, little at a time being called for. Up until now etiquette has been closely followed, however, eating noodles out of a broth is something that takes practice, especially if you want to avoid wearing it as any spagetti lover will tell you, the noodle strands swinging back and forth not with thick marinara but with broth and the ocassional sesame seed to tease our slowly dryinf t-shirt fabric. The feat more impressive given how delicious the noodles were.
There also accompanied the meal four small pots of spice. I forget all the names but can effectively summarise them as this. Pot one, peppery, pretty hot, pot two, peppery again, looked hotter but in fact a little milder, pot 3 looked like salt and pepper and was named "Japanese spice" but would have been more aptly named "singed nostril hairs" due to the ludicrous heat that came on like a wave after swallowing. The fourth pot was similar but a bit more herby, the herbs making way for a more gentle experience.
Exactly what we were supposed to do with the spices I never really figured out, but one thing I realised you should not do it liberally sprinkle a nicely tempurised ocra with the "I'm going to melt your face" spice and then take a breath while placing piece of tempura in your mouth. Why, because in that breath a hundred little pieces of lava make their way onto the back of your throat leading to a choking sensation. Now, if I had been in a Wendy's style establishment I would have coughed loudly, putting my hand across my mouth and removing the splinters of fire any way I could. However, when in Omen, with the sounds of trickling water and the soft patter of feet as ever attentive servers glide back and forth over the perfect bamboo floor, interupting the serene violins and etherial atmosphere with a hocking sound followed by blood chilling rasping seemed a little coarse, I simply put my game face on, looked over at Corinne and pleaded to be put out of my misery. A misery that would endure as we had both quaffed the only source of reprieve, the small glass of water that was refilled every once in a while by our ninja waitress. Hey, we were thirsty as in our generosity we'd given most of our watery body mass to our still damp clothing. Tears filled my eyes, the burning in my throat and the instinct to cough my throat out in order to eject the scorching dust was immense. A broth never tasted so good! I'll put it down to the Zen of the monks we'd been seeing through the morning, but I managed to contain myself, the moment passed without too much embarrassment and I was able to resume the meal.....a close call though.
The remainder of the day was brewing up to be pretty good, a walk through Gion and a chance encounter with a Geisha, a reminder that we ought to extend our stay in Kyoto by a day in order to come back here and party (it is the entertainment district). Dinner in the evening at a place that had a Happy Hour....not that we could make much use of it, you can only quaff so much beer in the 10 minutes we had left. The food was more Teppanyaki not as good as the night before and certainly without the atmosphere, but the heat had us bushed and the 15km or so of walking in it left us sleepy and longing for a little AC action with Japanese gameshows.
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