DAY 9

Thursday 6th May

Fukuoka

Woke up to another gloriously hot and sunny morning. Emma was teaching at the school, and so Paul and myself decide that it's time to dip our toes into the pool that is Japan exploration. Our destination is one of Kyushu's larger cities, Fukuoka.

With a feeling of slight trepidation, we procrastinate around Emma's house until lunchtime, before beginning our walk to Kubota station. The blazing hot sun beats down upon our backs as we amble through fields of gently swaying crops. The previous night, in a Japanese lager-induced haziness, we attempted to ascertain exactly where the station is. But judging direction under the influence of alcohol is always a bad idea; we settle for the general direction, and as it turned out we found it after 40 minutes or so. A train arrived shortly after our arrival, and we head to Saga station where we change again for a Fukuoka-bound train. No problems so far.

Arriving at Hakata station in Fukuoka, we make our way out onto the streets of a fairly unexceptional city- plenty of high-rise buildings and convenience stores. As in London, and many other cities, stray a small way from the beaten track and a wealth of cultural gems can be found. Temples are tucked away on most back streets, some very open and conspicuous, others looking more like private residences. We were looking specifically for the Sho-fukuji Temple, which we had read about in our guidebooks. In a case of mistaken identity we stroll breezily through the gardens of a large temple, until a stern-looking but friendly monk advises us, in good English, that the temple is not open to visitors but we're free to roam the gardens. He points us the way to our destination. Sho-fukuji Temple is famous for being the residence of a monk who introduced both Buddhism and tea to Japan- clearly a man of no small ambition. The temple is a beautiful construction set in tranquil gardens.

Chuffed with having made it thus far without getting lost/needing to speak Japanese/being ambushed by school kids, we decide to face the challenge of the Japanese subway system. The nearest station was Gofukumachi, and we amble down into the chill of the air-conditioned station, a welcome respite from the energy-sapping heat of the city streets. Fearing that we'd be faced with an impenetrable mass of coloured lines and Japanese characters, it appeared that the underground system was perfectly straightforward, and the ticket machines even had an English-language option. We identify our location, our destination, buy the correct tickets and board the correct train within ten minutes. But then blind optimism gets the better of us, and Paul makes the unfortunate mistake of saying:

'This travelling lark is easy.'
5 minutes later, at Ohorikoen station: 'I've lost my ticket.'

The Law of Sod has struck with a vengeance. After a frantic search for the verb 'to lose' in our Japanese phrasebooks, we shuffle up to the guard with sheepish grins. The phrasebook has come good, and we manage to explain the situation to the guard in something approaching intelligible Japanese. Though looking clearly disgruntled by the whole affair, he appears to decide that it's more hassle than it's worth to interrogate us, and he impatiently waves us through. I catch something that sounds like 'OK, but just today.' Which was fine by me. That was my first real test of Japanese, and it boosts my confidence that we can at least make ourselves understood.

From Ohorikoen station we walk into the ground of Ohori park ('koen' means 'park'), which contain the remains of an ancient castle's stone walls. The combination of blisteringly hot sun and empty stomach manifest themselves in my growing irritability, and so I decide that I need food to prevent the Japanese from seeing the less savoury side of the English gent abroad. A bento purchase is made from a local 7-11, and we head north to Nishi park- a veritable labyrinth of sculptured parkland from which we feared we'd never escape. We sit on the park benches for a picnic, watched constantly and unnervingly by a troublesome blackbird. Vending machines in the park turn up a nice surprise- lemon cheesecake flavoured Kit Kats! Upon eventually finding our way out of the park, we see the giant shape of Fukuoka Tower looming in the distance, and we attempt to make our way over to it. We were however scuppered by a river which divides the neighbouring districts, and which appeared to have no nearby bridge to cross. As it appeared to be another half an hour's walk to the tower and the day was already getting long, we give up and head to the nearest station, Tojinmachi.

On our train journey back to Kubota, the setting sun bathed the fields and hills in a golden glow. Our walk through the fields back to Emma's house turned out, surprisingly, to be one of the most memorable moments for me in this holiday. I was tired from a day's walking in the sun, but felt very relaxed and peaceful. We walked through the fields in the sultry summer air; greeting passing farmers and school kids on bikes heading for home, the sun dipping behind the hills as streetlights flickered to life- the feeling of tranquillity was very pleasant. The land of the setting sun is truly as beautiful as the rising sun.

That evening we indulge in another night in with noodles and beer. We discuss politics, culture, language, global warming, and of course the multitudes of subjects that only make sense under the influence of alcohol. Most of which are listed above.