SO IT'S OFF to the snowy north. The shinkansen whisks us via a long
tunnel to the island of Hokkaido. First stop Hakodate, once the main
port linking the north to the main island of Honshu. It feels very
much like an old American port town, down on its luck – vacant
plots, attempts to turn it into a tourist destination on the lines of
Cannery Row in California, some interesting old frontier style
buildings, but mostly banal modern.
This
was the first port where outside trading contacts were allowed in the
1850s after many years of isolation. The Russians, Americans and
British rapidly established commercial bases and consulates. Some of
that history is still visible: Russian style architecture including
an onion domed orthodox church, a classical house for the Japanese
colonial Governor.
There
are huge brick warehouses, now providing an opportunity for Chinese
duty free shopping, and a morning market selling a vast array of fish
products including gigantic live king crabs.
Next
day we continued along the coast by the narrow gauge railway to
Noborobetsu. This is a complete contrast, a spa town in a deep
wooded valley, spoilt a little by large ugly hotels for tour groups.
However, we stayed in a lovely ryokan (Kashotei Hanaya) –
immaculate rooms, tatami mat floors, sliding screens, and its own
homely onsen, where you bathe naked in the water from local hot
springs. But living on the floor is hard for these old western
bones.
The
water comes at 80C and high pressure from further into the hills, an
area known locally as Hell's valley, all fumaroles and steam and
sulphorous smells. The contrast of the soft calm snow and the violent
outpourings from the earth were stunning. In the town there's a
geyser that boils angrily every three hours.
Back
at the hotel we were served an elaborate kaiseki dinner in our room –
multiple courses, each with many elements of contrasting taste and
textures, each served on carefully chosen crockery. I have come to
realise that modern western chefs have taken all their cues from
Japan. The bento breakfast was almost as good.
So on to Sapporo. We made a short tour of
Noborobetsu until our train arrived. The town features a weird
'European' theme park, and little else, although I manged a
spectacular cartoon style fall on the ice – without much damage!
Sapporo
was colder than the east coast and we tramped the streets despite
persistent snow showers delivered on a keen wind. We saw preparations
already udner way for the ice sculpture festival.
The
second day was a big improvement – bright and sunny. We went out
east of the city and walked through the forest park to visit the
Hokkaido building museum, which holds lots of fascinating mostly
nineteenth century buildings brought from all over the island. In
thick new snow and with few other visitors, it was spectacular.
Nearby is the Hokkaido museum; its huge imposing modern building
houses an interesting display on the geography and history of the
island, emphssiisng that it is at the crossroads between north and
south Asia. Prehistoric cultures came here during the ice age and
continued as a separate ethnic group – the Ainu – more akin to
Siberian peoples than to the mainland Japanese, who colonised and
brutally 'assimilated' them during the shogun era. Eventually the
island was incorporated into Japan in the late ninteenth century. It
all felt disconcertingly like the history of Ireland.
We
returned to the hotel via the Sapporo beer museum – a bit of a
tourist trap and the free samples were off limits on the day of our
visit. The brewery is a series of interesting nineteenth century
buildings (part of that colonisation!)
We
finished the day with tonkatsu comfort food and a few pints in an
Irish pub.