食べ物 Part 2

This post is the second and final installment about my food adventures in Osaka. I've eaten a good many adventurous delectables over the second half of my time in Japan, and what follows are just some quick highlights.

Minoh, a town on the outskirts of Osaka, known for its beautiful waterfall, is also known for two types of quaint, local cuisine. The first is what's called Momiji Tempura. Momiji is the Japanese word for maple leaf, so as you might expect, this delightful dish consists of tempura-fried autumn maple leaves. 

The batter is a little thicker than your average tempura, and is sweetened considerably, so what you get is really like a crunchy donut-like covering surrounding the leaves. It was my favorite omiyage (souvenir) food that I ever brought back for our Japanese roommates, but they didn't get the added bonus of watching the street vendors make it in their stands right in front of them, and also didn't get to eat it hot like I did.

The other food Minoh is known for is also, coincidentally, called Momiji. But this is Momiji of a different variety entirely. Momiji is also the local dialect's word for Venison meat. As I walked around the town, I never knew which kind the signs meant when they had ももじ written in hiragana syllables on the outside of the vendors.

I tried both, of course. The above was a Venison curry I had, and I had a Venison burger on a return trip to Minoh. I had had venison once in the states before, but with the holy "messengers of the gods" deer of Nara (remember them?) weighing heavily on my mind, it was a bit of a different experience.

One of the best street snacks as the weather got colder, though, was roasted chestnuts. They were available pretty frequently on most of my journeys and adventures, and made the perfect warm pick-me-up energy booster when skies were grey.

One of my favorite "only in Japan" snacks was this Giraffe Banana Cream Puff that Haruna brought us back as omiyage from a trip to Tokyo. It was delicious, but so weird looking.

In Japan, like never before, I had occasion to eat prawns... whole prawns. The brains and guts and everything. Again, really weird, but I always liked it.

The one Japanese meal that was actually difficult for me to stomach was the breakfast on our overnight trip to Mie prefecture. We stayed in a traditional Ryokan and ate traditional Japanese meals for dinner and breakfast. The dinner was an absolute feast filled with all the delights of a traditional Japanese meal, and so was the breakfast. But the problem was I just couldn't bring myself to devour it all in the a.m. hours the same way I could any other time in Japan. The umeboshi (Japanese pickled salt plums) really did me in, and for the first time, I couldn't bring myself to finish my meal.

By the end of November, we Americans were really beginning to crave the flavors of home. I never EVER thought I would get tired of Japanese food, my all-time favorite world cuisine. But after 3 months, the three of us Sofia Americans were really craving American cuisine, badly. We got our frustrations out by going to McDonalds (the first time I've been to one since I was 12, but I guess once every decade or so isn't so bad, right?), Domino's pizza, and Gasto (an "American" style food restaurant roughly equivalent to Denny's or Applebee's, but where burgers come with rice instead of buns, among other quirky Japanisms). Needless to say, we were thrilled to be invited to this Thanksgiving cocktail party by our internship supervisor, and chowed down on some American favorites.

Mister Donut was also a favorite hang-out on weekends. This Japanese donut shop occasionally had little American favorites, like these Peanuts-themed cupcakes.

After a couple solid weeks of gastronomical homesickness, I was back to loving all things Japanese again. If you can remember back to when Michael and I went to San Francisco over the summer to get my Japanese visa, and stumbled upon that Japanese candy shop, then you might be able to picture the candy shop where these treats came from. This shop is just one of the places where my Japanese roommate, Ai, worked part-time during the week. I enjoyed going there a handful of times and picking out special treats for myself and the housemates.

After a hike I took with Ishani one rainy weekend day, we went to an outdoor onsen for the first time, and bathed among the mist-filled trees. It was really beautiful, and afterwards, we went to the attached restaurant and I dined on this wild boar nabe (hot-pot). The meat was so flavorful!

Osaka's street food is widely regarded as the best in Japan. I had lots of fun picking up little dishes whenever I went on long bike rides into the city, like this squid stick delicioiusness.

The last of Ariyama-san's (our landlady's) cultural events was an event making Mochi!! It was so much fun, and so nice taking part in the traditional mochi-making process. Mochi is literally just rice, but it's a special, slightly more glutenous variety that, when cooked and pounded, molds together into an excellent rice mold of goodness!

These were the mochi, filled with red bean paste that yours truly personally fashioned out of the mochi that all my housemates pounded together.

Lastly, one of the absolute highlights of Japan was real Kobe beef. I had put it off and put it off all semester, because it really is an expensive luxury food that I didn't know I'd be able to accurately budget for. But in the end, the experience was well, WELL worth the wait, and the cost.

Ishani and I went, and we split the cost by getting the most expensive kobe beef sirloin on the menu in combination with the cheapest (non-Kobe in the sense that it wasn't raised in the Kobe way, but was actually still Kobe beef in the fact that it was raised in Kobe) non-Kobe steak on the menu, which actually made an excellent taste test comparison item. The regular steak was so nicely cut and well-prepared on the Teppanyaki grill that it melted in your mouth, but the Kobe beef? There literally just aren't words to describe how good, how melty, how rich a texture!

I'll just tell you that despite waiting until the last full weekend in Japan to eat this treasure, I made time on my last night to go back AGAIN to "Steakland" restaurant with my cousin and get it before leaving Japan. That's how good it was.

I wish I could give you all a sample right now, but alas, as Kobe beef is ONLY available in Japan and to world royalty upon request (and anything in the US that claims to be Kobe beef is not real Kobe beef)... well, you'll just have to go to Japan to taste it for yourself.

Koya Adventure

The Americans had gone to Tokyo for the long weekend, and my roommates had "baito" (their part-time jobs), so what was I to do but concoct some fabulous adventure that would put everyone else's plans to shame. So that's exactly what I did.

I left my house at 4:55am that Saturday morning, walking like a zombie for the two minutes to the station. But one of the perks to leaving so early was there were definitely empty seats on the train, which was good, because I sat on train after train for three hours (little did I know at the time of the 146 hours yet to come in Russia...). On the train, I began reading Harry Potter in Japanese, and the complexities of trying to comprehend the meaning behind the unknown kanji definitely passed the time.  But also the views were amazing. The picture above was through the window of the train car as we entered a valley on the ascent to...

I arrived at 8:00am at the base of the Cable Car station to Koya-san, but decided not to take the Cable Car the rest of the way up the mountain. Instead, I trekked, uphill, along the path of "47 corners," a zig-zagging 1200-year old Buddhist pilgrimage trail up this mountain, a center of spiritual renewal in the Japanese Buddhist tradition. All was quiet except for the occasional rustle of autumn leaves in the slight breeze, or the still more occasional sound of the Cable Car off in the distance, the tracks sounding exactly like the soundbite they use for the horcruxes in the 7th and 8th Harry Potter films, or perhaps I just thought that because I had Harry Potter on my mind. 

After the two-hour. relatively strenuous endeavor up the mountain, I arrived in the town of Koya, a place that would continue to dazzle me throughout the day. My first stop, was to the temple site of the women's pilgrimage, or the "Nyonindo". Because women weren't allowed to make pilgrimage in Japanese Buddhism until relatively recently in the grand history of things, devout women would make pilgrimage around the circumference of the town, and this temple is the last remaining of the original seven sights of women pilgrimage around Koya. 

I lit a stick of incense, feeling empowered that I would soon be entering what was once a realm of men-only, but also feeling a little guilty that the women whose lives were spent in prayer and meditation on this mountain were not afforded the same opportunity to stroll right into town without so much as a wink of experience practicing the local religion.

But wink I got. Koya is a town of countless Shingon buddhist temples. As I walked through the town, I couldn't help but feel as though the monks outnumbered the non-tourist layman residents, and the temples and monasteries outnumbered the houses and secular buildings.

As I went to the Kongobuji temple complex, the oldest and grandest of those currently in existence, I walked around the age old shoji corridors, glimpsing into ornately decorated tatami rooms, each one decorated with a different theme.

Part of the entrance fee to this particular complex also includes a sembei (traditional japanese cracker) and a cup of green tea, which are served in the main public prayer hall, a long, plain, tatami mat lined room. As I sat sipping my tea, I had the pleasure of observing a real Buddhist service. As it didn't seem too blatantly rude (others were filming), I snatched this soundbite of the service on my ipod, which should give you a taste of the beauties of the service. 

After the main temple complex, I went and ate lunch at a local ramen shop. This was my first experience ever eating out alone, but the ladies who served the place were friendly and one of them even sat down with me and chatted for a while once she understood that I could speak more than just the pleasantries needed to get by. 

Then I continued on to Okunoin, a temple cemetery of sorts that has become one of the most attractive places to be buried over the centuries, thanks to the grounds' reputation as the place of eternal meditation of Kobo Daishi, the founder of the Shingon Buddhist sect.

The grounds walking up to the main temple were lined with age-old cedar trees and burial tombs and altars of all shapes and sizes. It is a sea of grey and green- grey of the tombstones themselves, and green of all the trees in the background, and the moss that lines the stones. 

Many of the people buried here seem to have been forgotten over the ages, for whatever reason. But many of them seem to be visited quite frequently, like this woman, whose make-up remained fresh, and whose sake glasses were filled to the brim as offerings made to her by her descendants or friends. 

Among the most amazing places I went on this excursion was unfortunately one I could not photograph. Once you pass Gobyonohashi bridge, you become unable to photograph any of the temple grounds, as you approach the main temple. A monk stood at the entrance to the temple complex blessing passersby by rubbing powdered clove on their hands and forehead. At the back of the temple, there sat dozens of Buddhists praying, as that's the place where Kobo Daishi is supposedly in eternal meditation, having passed from this world. But the most impressive of the sights in this forbidden area is the main temple itself, the Hall of Ten Thousand Lanterns. It is as it sounds, a hall filled to the brim with flickering lanterns, lit eternally. It's really beautiful there, and there, too, I got to experience a Buddhist service, but this time, since it would've been blatantly rude to record, I of course don't have a soundbite to give you this time.

Next, I actually walked half of the Women's Pilgrimage trails. I walked out of the opposite side of Koya from the way I came in, and walked around it's circumference. The panoramic views of the surrounding mountain ranges were absolutely breathtaking and so immediately poignant that I cried upon reaching the first summit. It was really emotionally overwhelming standing there on the edge of the world, seeing the Japan that I hadn't witnessed before in this way, namely the 70% of the country that is undeveloped mountain territory. 

As I walked along the Pilgrimage, I finally made it to the Daimon, shown above, the great gate, the official traditional entrance to Koya-san. And the Great Steppe, shown below. These are huge buildings along the trail, that are the welcoming beacons to the town. 

Then I continued along the trail to see the beautiful panoramic sunset. From the top of this particular mountain range, you could see the great Steppe to one side, and the untouched mountains to the other. 

The trail was lined with Torii, as one of the only Shinto influences on the town, which serve to protect the pilgrims on the trails. 

I met up with my first fellow hikers of the day (by virtue of being so far from the city despite Koya's draw as a tourist destination), who snapped this shot of me at the top of the last peak as I waited for sunset.

Watching the sunset over the misty mountains was obviously amazing. But then I was thankful that the Shinto Torii were there to protect me, because it occurred to me just as I was descending the mountain that because I had waited for sunset, I had to trek down the mountain in the dark. It was getting darker by the minute, so I had to tell myself to hurry up (it was only about a kilometer to the lower trailhead), but I also simultaneously had to tell myself to slow down, because if I tripped and fell and broke my leg, I would have been stranded until morning, by which time I would be frostbitten, if not dead, because the temperature was so much colder than coastal Osaka. 

But thankfully, I got out of there safely, and rode the cable car down the mountain to the train station, and smoothly rode the rest of the 3 hours back to my nice warm bed at home. Koya-san definitely hits the very top of my list of favorite places in Japan. I'm so glad that I got to go there, and going there alone meant that I had more interesting experiences (eating alone, realizing I would be stranded and die if I couldn't rely on myself, etc.) that ultimately made it not only one of the most rewarding bits of tourism, but also rewarding in personal development, and getting to know myself just a little bit more.

Monkey Seeing

The Buddhist monkeys I met in Arashiyama believe in the axiom, "See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil," or so I like to think after seeing this buddhist statuette at a temple nearby. 

As you may remember, the first time I went to Arashiyama was with my Environmental class--my professor's treat. We got to see Tenryu-ji temple and eat traditional bento boxes to decide whether or not those traditions classified as world cultural heritage or not. 

Well, I went to Arashiyama again, just after the hatsuyuki (or first snow, visible on the top of the furthest mountain in the photograph above). But this time, I went to convene with nature, another cultural heritage.

Arashiyama has a world-famous "Monkey Park", and I was happy to discover that the park operates as a "reverse" zoo. If you want to feed them, it's the human behind bars, while the macaque is free to roam the wild mountains uninhibited. 

I had so much fun feeding a banana through the bars to countless little guys, watching their expressions change and getting to know each of their personalities (as much as what little time I spent there would allow).

Needless to say, I thought it was a beautiful social experience, and I enjoyed wandering around outdoors, too, where they roam freely. As you can see, from the Monkey Park in Arashiyama, these Japanese Macaques have a veritable penthouse view of Kyoto.

In this prime real estate, they groom one another, little ones growing up while still clinging to their mother's bellies, and lounging in trees of beautiful changing colors.

I was surprised by how far their territory stretched. Even as i descended the mountain into the town, I heard the tell-tale rustling in the canopy above of a lone monkey scaling the tree-tops. It made me happy that despite human interference on their lives, they feel comfortable living so close. 

After the Monkey Park, I spent just a little time wandering around Arashiyama. I didn't have much time there, because it was a weekend filled with homework, but I was happy to be able to see the bamboo forests, the quintessential view of Arashiyama and certainly one of its biggest attractions. 

Yet just walking around, I felt a little suffocated by the tourist trap that was Arashiyama. I appreciated being able to see it, and see it more than once, but I couldn't help but be more drawn to the quiet out-of-the-way places, like this summit view of the Kamogawa river running through a nearby valley. 

Still, the whole excursion was a quick reminder of why I'm so thankful to have spent an entire semester in Japan, as opposed to just a few days of more superficial travel. Arashiyama is one of the most visited places in all of Japan, with all of it's "rural" draw from Kyoto, the next well-traveled area behind Tokyo. So if I had come to Japan for just a few days, Arashiyama very well could've been all of the Japanese rural charm I got to see. But I got to see so much more, as you'll find out in my next post about my best ever solo adventure!