Amidst rainstorms and cancelled expresses, I arrived in Kyoto after seven hours of local trains. My new home, Santiago Guesthouse, is in the Higashiyama ward of Kyoto, a stone’s throw from Kiyomizu-dera. It’s either a hostel with a bar on the first floor, or a bar with dorm rooms: I haven’t decided which. The decor leans towards fancy, and accordingly it seems to attract fancy people. It’s quiet, comfortable, and so new that my taxi driver didn’t know where it was. The owners, Mr. Hashimoto and Mr. Ueda, are cut from the same refined cloth. The former is taller, older, more quiet; Mr. Ueda is sporty, jokes around, and speaks more English. Both are laid-back and charming; quintessentially Kyoto. The first day, about an hour after I arrived, I was tasked to bike to the station and pick up 200 copies of a tourist map. The bike, which turned out to be Mr. Hashimoto’s personal bike, was one of those low-riding curvy-handled groin-busting bastards with mysterious shoe-hooks (?) that scraped dangerous along the ground. I’m pretty sure I almost died on the death-machine, especially on the way back with my package that turned out to be heavier than I had expected. Incidentally, being in Kyoto and on a race bike, the thought of Yowamushi Pedal did cross my mind (thanks Rosie). The following day I began real work. I woke up to find reception staffed by my friend, Annie (Japanese). We tried to figure out our actual relationship today: she’s the high school friend of a girl who was friends with my ex-girlfriend. She used to work in Gero, and when I went to see her she came out greeting me in this perfect Beijing-accented Chinese. Our conversations are pretty interesting, code-switching between English, Japanese, and Chinese haphazardly. On the first day, she showed me how to do my job. In principle it’s fairly simple: bedmaking, vaccuming, scrubbing toilets, etc. I’m sure anyone who knows me, or who has ever been to my house, will find it ironic that I’m a cleaner, since I don’t think I’ve voluntarily made a bed in my whole life. But it went well, was even somewhat relaxing, and I finished neatly and on time. After I finished, I went wandering and ended up in the Kyoto Manga Museum. Built on an old elementary school, it’s more a library than a museum: there are chronological displays and special exhibits and the walls are lined with manga-ka’s autographs, but its main draw are the shelves and shelves of manga ranging from the ‘60s to today that anyone can take and read. Everyone — from tourist to salaryman to housewife to university student to children — pick up a book, flip through it, and end up standing for hours. I read the last couple volumes of FMA and was once again amazed by how awesome Riza Hawkeye is. Admission costs ￥800. There’s English comics too. Definitely recommended for those rainy days or when you’re suffering from temple fatigue. Am vaguely contemplating the yearly pass for ￥6000… Photos were sadly forbidden inside, due to copyright issues, but I snagged this. The centerpiece of the museum was, quite appropriately, Osamu Tezuka’s Phoenix, based on his unfinished masterpiece. Today was cleaning again; quite tired from my travels so I opted to stay in, research, lie around after work. Over the past two days I’ve met quite a few people — a Spanish girl who’s studied at Kyoto Gaidai for the past year; an American photojournalist who’s doing a project on on the Gion Matsuri; a Taiwanese lady who used to work for the hostel. I’ve seen more gaijin here in one day than I did in two years living up in my mountain village, and walking around the streets it’s like being back in Taiwan again, with the amount of Taiwanese tourists here. It’s nice to live life at a relaxing pace, especially after working in a high school where everything is both meticulous planned yet open to sudden changes: “Today’s second period is cancelled; third and fourth is switched; Mr. Tanaka’s not in so teach fifth by yourself”. Example: after asking for recommendations on places to go, Mr. Hashimoto hummed thoughtfully. “How about lake Biwa? We’re going in a few days, together with the guests… wanna come?” “Definitely! When?” “Whenever we feel like it, just grab the guests and go.” It’s nice not knowing what day of the week it is; nicer not waking up and dreading the day ahead of you. The 100 yen staff cocktails don’t hurt either.
Posted on: Wed, 20 Aug 2014 11:59:50 +0000
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