more traditional than the one in Tokyo, with a central garden and sliding rice paper screens above the painted wooden sliding doors. Also, there are no pads under the futons, they're laid directly on the tatami.
We awoke with the alarm at 7:30. Fortunately, our previous days of 9 hour naps had left us well-rested, so we were able to lever ourselves out of bed. We showered, ate our pre-breakfast (waffle and a different brand of pound fruit for Jess, a salmon rice-nori triangle, and one that appeared to be pork stroganoff for Jer), and struggled to fit all of our stuff into our bags. Well, Jer struggled while Jess worked on yesterday's journal entry.
After checking out of our ryokan, we headed over to Denny's for breakfast. The "morning menu" was much more restrained than an American Denny's (no Grand Slam or other gigantic meals, nearly everything comes with salad, and there are even Japanese sets with things like grilled salmon and miso soup). Jer was jonesing for some veggies, so he had a vegetable morning set (chunky veggie soup with bacon, a sourdough roll and black tea). Jess had fresh-squeezed oj, two scrambled eggs, a sausage link (essentially an oversized Lil Smoky), and black tea. Despite having avoided Denny's for several days, Jer had to admit that going there was a good idea, since it was one of the few places we've seen with any substantial veggie dishes. The people of Tokyo seemed to think that Denny's is a good idea, too, since it's one of the very few places in town with a bottomless cup of coffee. On the way out, Jer encountered one of the ubiquitous pairs of 3 foot tall, stooped old ladies coming in. Ever the American, he opened the door for them and stood aside to let the pass. Their reaction was priceless: confused paralysis, then surprised realization, then a shower of thank yous and bows as low as their arthritic hips would allow. (Note to Japanese women: drink milk! Or calcium-enriched oj!)
After breakfast, we headed back over to Kappabashi in search of plastic food, a few gifts and a microwavable ceramic rice cooker. We found the first two, anyway. Giving up, we stopped by our ryokan to pick up our bags, then set out for Tokyo station. We got reserved seats on the next shinkansen for Kyoto, picked out a couple of sushi eki-ben (train lunchboxes) and a couple of fruit mousses, and hopped on the train. Our eki-bens were pretty good (much better than anything we've had on Amtrak), except that they didn't come with soy sauce. Jess was surprised to discover that she liked the fried tofu skins filled with rice. Jer noted that the salmon sushi involved smoked salmon. A bit later we ate our sweets. Jer's was a cheesecake mousse with red fruits. Jess's was an orange mousse, reminiscent of a creamsicle. A bit later, Jer declared "It's Miller Time" and cracked open his Suntory -196° Freeze Ume, a low-alcohol drink in a can, which Jess described as tasting like plums and NyQuil.
We saw what we are almost positive was the lower slopes of Mt. Fuji along the way. We also saw the sea, mountainsides with rock-walled terraces, fields, rice paddies, green houses, and many, many houses and factories. We were struck by how the densely-packed towns ran right up to the edge of the fields or the mountainsides.
Eventually, we reached Kyoto station, where we transferred to the subway. Upon reaching our station, we consulted the map, then proceeded to wander around the very charming residential neighborhood in which we found ourselves. Jess would have found this much more pleasant without luggage. Eventually, we reoriented ourselves and proceeded apace to the ryokan, Aoi So Inn. It is much more traditional than the one in Tokyo, with a central garden and sliding rice paper screens above the painted wooden sliding doors. Also, there are no pads under the futons, they're laid directly on the tatami.
We settled in, asked our nice innkeeper to make lunch reservations for us for Monday, and headed out to poke around the neighborhood and find the local noodle shop. We found the ¥100 shop, and bought a bunch of junk. ("Should we get this?" "For a buck?" "Okay!") We visited the grocery store and got some soda (Including C.C. Lemon, Jer's favorite, with "70 lemons' worth of Vitamin C in every bottle"). We looked for the noodle place, and even asked at a liquor store, but couldn't find it. We had to get dinner quickly in order to get back to the ryokan in time to do laundry, but Jess still hadn't had her ramen. We headed back to the hotel to check the map, stopping at the Lawson convenient store for pre-breakfast (oj, tuna corn salad for Jer, waffle and a "soft baumkuchen " — with a lot of poetic license, it could be said to resemble a tree's cross-section — for Jess).
We located the noodle shop on the map and headed out. It took us a while to find it, but we think we did. It was a tiny little place with a kitchen, a counter, and nothing else. When we got there, it was full, but a large group was leaving. We headed in, to find a Japanese menu with three pictures on it. One of the pictures was of a thin noodle soup with pork slices. Jer pointed at the picture and asked the jolly proprietor/chef "ramen?" "Chinese noodles," he responded. "Ramen? Soba?" Jer persisted. "Ramen." Excellent. The man behind the counter burbled out "Pork, chicken." Clearly he knew a little English, more than his menu let on. Jer ordered two pork ramen, and we had complimentary kimchi (Jer only), pickled daikon, and water while we waited. When it arrived, the ramen was excellent: noodles, bean sprouts, green onions and slices of fatty pork all floating around in miso broth. Mmm. The Japanese diners next to us slurped their ramen, reminding us that it is permissible (and even polite) to do so. We happily slurped away. When we finished, the proprietor asked us something in Japanese. When we didn't respond, he asked "Good?" Jer assured him that it was wonderful. He seemed pleased.
After paying, we hurried back to our ryokan to do some much-needed laundry. While it was going, we wrote our postcards and updated the journal.