Yokohama is one of my favorite Japanese cities. Its unique development from the influx of foreign traders—Chinese, Americans and British in particular—give the port city a different ambience from its giant neighbor of Tokyo.
We hosted family for a short visit last week and immediately put Yokohama on the itinerary. Despite being bone-chilling cold, the sun was shining and we had some great light at dusk, leading to some inspiring photos. Enjoy Yokohama in Pictures…
Our latest Wednesday afternoon hike (check out our recent jaunts in Ogawa and Tokorozawa’s Totoro Forest) took us into the foothills of the Okuchichibu Mountains and nearby Hannō City. Back in May, we met a couple Japanese ladies on our way to another hike in Hannō who suggested we try the trail to Neno-Gongen Temple.
The city’s website provided a basic outline of the hike advertised as the Ancient Temples of Oku-Musashi. I mapped it out in detail to ensure we wouldn’t get ourselves lost in the woods (in literary circles, this sentence is called “foreshadowing”).
We arrived at Agano Station, the starting point for our hike, around 2 p.m. The train station was selling bear bells, which we’d been meaning to buy for awhile. The hilly forests host a good-sized population of Asiatic black bears. The ringing of the small bells is a common sound on many of the region’s hiking trails. Knowing we’d be on our own for much of the day, it seemed like a good time to pick one up.
Just down the street from the station, we made our first stop at Hoko-ji, a Buddhist temple established in 1386. For a small-town temple, it had several impressive pieces, although its most impressive didn’t even belong to the temple.
Large bronze bells (ō-bonshō) are a fixture at Buddhist temples. This particular one was part of Tōzen-ji temple, located in Miyagi Prefecture on the northeast coast of Japan. The temple was destroyed in the 2011 tsunami and the bell washed into the ocean. Hoko-ji will continue to be the bell’s caretaker until the temple in Miyagi is rebuilt.
After ringing the bell a couple times, we passed through the low-ceiling tunnel under the train tracks and followed the path to Togo Park. The park is named for Heihachirō Tōgō, an admiral in the Imperial Japanese Navy during the 1800s who grew up in the area. The steep-hilled park is popular for viewing the changing autumn leaves.
At the top, reached by climbing nearly 400 steps, we were rewarded by an outdoor “museum” to the Russo-Japanese War. A piece of artillery-shelled deck from the battleship Mikasa and a Russian-made cannon with artillery shells are among the items on public display. Higher up, a small bamboo grove surrounds Chichibu Mitake Shrine. The shrine is the only one in Hannō that has a Shinto priest living on site.
We climbed back down the steps to the park’s entrance and started up the road to Neno-Gongen Temple. Along the way, we passed Asamichaya, a teahouse and udon noodle shop that has been tucked away in the mountains since 1855. It was already closed for the day, but it’s still operating as a resthouse for weary travelers looking to fuel up or just grab a quick snack on the trail.
As we approached the gates of Neno-Gongen Temple, the road opened up into an amazing view. Thanks to the clear weather, we could see all the way to Tokyo Skytree and the Yokohama Landmark Tower, more than 40 miles to the east.
Neno-Gongen is all about extremes. A pair of giant Kongōrikishi statues wait at the gate in their permanent intimidating poses. Inside, an oversized pair of straw sandals hang near the main temple with two more metal versions sitting nearby. Opposite the giant sandals, miniature sandals serve as ema (prayer offerings) left by worshippers. Down the hill, a pair of giant hands rest in a traditional Buddhist mudra position.
Neno-Gongen was roughly the halfway point of our hike. It was exactly 5 p.m. when the sun started to disappear. We were literally in the middle of the mountains; too far to turn back, so we powered forward.
Note to our mothers: You should probably stop reading now and just assume that everything continued according to plan! 🙂
We had about two miles remaining to reach the town where we’d catch the bus. In hindsight, we might have chosen to follow the road from the temple in hopes to find a passing car, but—to paraphrase Jung—wholly unprepared, we embarked down the path into the forest.
The trees quickly blocked out what remained of the sunlight. Soon, the narrowing trail was pitch-black. To the left, the slope of the forest. To the right, a drop-off into the trees. All we had for light was the display screen from the camera.
Things quickly turned into an amateur remake of the Blair Witch Project. Weird screeching sounds echoed through the forest. Rustling sounds—real or imagined—stopped us in our tracks. The journey slowed to a crawl as the path devolved into a steep slope entangled in a snarl of exposed tree roots.
We arrived at Takedera Temple as the camera battery drained toward end of life. We used what was left of our light to find the nearest road. While it headed away from our bus stop, it would at least get us out of the forest. As we walked through the temple’s front gates, a motion-sensing security flood light flashed on, sending a rush of adrenaline surging through us that would last well into the night.
Once we found the paved road, we followed it down in a half-run until civilization finally re-emerged. We saw a bus stop, but we’d missed the final bus of the day by 30 minutes. Certain that we were still some distance from a train station, we flagged down the first car that passed. A young woman named Yū stopped.
Me: Do you know where the nearest station is?
Yū: Hannō.
Me: Is it far?
She gave me that look of pity that has become all too familiar over the last year and a half and invited us into her car. We were immediately comforted, both by the ride and the Of Monsters and Men song “From Finner” playing on her radio. The lyrics fit the moment perfectly:
And we are far from home, but we’re so happy
Far from home, all alone, but we’re so happy
We drove… and drove… and drove. She told us she was going to Hannō to visit friends, so it wasn’t out of her way. But with the Japanese penchant for friendliness, she could have been a minute from home when she picked us up. We’ll never know.
She dropped us at Higashi-Hanno Station. We offered gas money, but of course she declined. I removed the Totoro Fund button that we bought on our last hike from my backpack and gave it to her as a token of appreciation.
If this is our last hike of the season, it certainly will be a memorable one!
Yokohama was high on my list of places I wanted to visit while in Japan. I really knew nothing about it and the desire was probably due to it being home to the Yokohama Baystars baseball team, Japan’s equivalent to the Chicago Cubs (think “lovable losers”).
Last weekend, we popped down to Yokohama for the day. Located a short train ride south of Tokyo, it’s actually the most populated municipality in Japan and second most populated city after Tokyo. Due to its development as a port town in the 1800s, Yokohama is a melting pot of Pacific cultures.
Our first stop was the Shin-Yokohama Raumen Museum, billed as the world’s first food-themed amusement park. On the two lower levels, a 1950s-era Japanese street scene has been replicated in authentic detail with signage, music and a variety of ramen shops. A less-era-authentic magician performed tricks for the large crowd while blasting modern electronic music from his iPhone.
The wait times for each shop are on a chalkboard by the main stairs. We arrived around noon and already some of the shops had 30 minute waits. Waiting that long for ramen in Japan seems a little silly since there are literally 20,000 shops in Tokyo with no wait, but it’s a little like waiting in line at Voodoo Doughnuts in Portland. The wait is part of the experience.
We picked NARUMI-IPPUDO, a French bouillon/Japanese dashi hybrid for our first course. The mini-sized bowls with medium-sized noodles and light broth were the perfect appetizer. In response to the variety of tourists who come through the museum’s doors, most of the shops offer at least one vegetarian bowl and one halal option for the increasing number of Muslim visitors. Guilt-free ramen is the best ramen of all!
Lunch #2 involved one of the aforementioned 30 minute waits. Ryu Shanghai offered a unique spicy ramen with thick noodles in a rich, flavorful soup. The added dollop of the spicy miso sauce on top was enough to open up the sinuses on a cold day.
Kamome Shokudo was one shop caught my attention in the brochure. The original shop washed away in the 2011 earthquake and tsumani that decimated northeastern Japan. The shop has been replicated in the museum, giving their Sendai-style ramen a second life.
Era-correct props dotted the museum’s basement floors. A payphone booth was made even more authentic by the black electrical tape holding the cord to the handset. An old black and white television console showed 1950s professional wrestling matches (side note: the sport’s popularity in the 1950s used to draw large crowds to watch the matches on big screens in Tokyo). A stained vending machine rolled out small glass bottles of Coca Cola. Plenty to see while waiting in those long ramen lines.
Next, we headed south toward Tokyo Bay. Every once in awhile, we get those “doesn’t feel like Japan” moments. The area around Tokyo Bay certainly qualified as one of those times. The massive Landmark Tower, Japan’s second largest building, anchors the skyline and casts a large shadow over the Nippon Maru, a clipper-style boat-turned-museum that was used as a training vessel for the Japanese Merchant Marines from the 1930s to the 1980s.
Looking toward the bay, you can’t miss the Cosmo Clock 21, the centerpiece of the Minato Mirai 21 (MM21) shopping center. Built in 1989, it was the world’s tallest ferris wheel for nearly a decade and, thanks to the digital clock on its face, it still stands as the world’s largest timepiece.
From MM21, we followed Kishamichi Promenade along the bayfront. It felt more like the Cairns Esplanade in Australia than anything we’ve seen in Japan. A running event was taking place on the day we visited, so we shuffled alongside those athletes braving the cold weather along the bayfront, ending up at the Red Brick Warehouse. The event overtook the grounds of the former customs warehouse, which was restored in the early 1990s and is now (of course) a retail center.
From there, we ventured inland toward Yokohama’s thriving Chinatown district. Thousands of Chinese immigrants arrived at the port in the 1800s, bringing with them food (including ramen) and customs that still thrive in Japan today. More than 250 shops are fit into several city blocks, making it one of the world’s largest “Chinatown” districts.
Two ornate and impressive temples appear between the pork bun shops in Chinatown. Guan Di Miao was founded in the 1860s by immigrants as a central spiritual site as well as a tribute to Guan Gong, a well-respected general during the Han Dynasty in around 220 B.C.
The second temple rivals all of the great structures we’ve seen in Japan, yet was built less than a decade ago, officially opening in March 2006. The city had planned on building a large apartment complex on the site, but the community was concerned about the impact such a building would have on the area. They negotiated with the developers and eventually purchased the land, building Mazu Miao in its place.
Less than two hours by train, Yokohama deserves another day trip in the near future. Would love to hear from anyone who’s visited about what we missed the first time around.