JR shopping catalogue

Obviously make your feet feel good.

No idea

Well, at least this one's obvious - a dummy that plays a tuning fork and improves your posture.

And I can really see a use for this handy roll-up piano

The cartoon says it all

How many Japanese women actually need to shave their backs?

Ah, sanitary pads for armpits

And sanitary pads for armpits that you wear on your elbows??

Kamishiro

I don`t want to leave. This place is gorgeous. It has the permanent Sunday-morning feel that being an out-of-season ski-resort brings, semi-deserted, calm and stunningly beautiful. Kamishiro is a tiny village a few kilometres along the valley from Hakuba, in the northern Japan Alps. Densely wooded mountains rise on all sides of the village, snow still streaking the gullies of their upper slopes. It`s like living in a chocolate box, steeply roofed buildings in all manner of designs are dotted beside the little lanes of the village.

My first day here I took the gondola lift up the mountain, then walked through misty cloud on a path flanked on either side by lush greenery to the peak, Kotomi, at 2007 m. It was a pity that the cloud obscured what views there might have been, but it was pure bliss to be up a mountain, breathing the fresh air ripe with the surrounding greenery. I met a few cheery hikers on the way, those who could expressed their amazement at the sight of a solo hiker - not to mention a solo female traveller who can`t speak Japanese. This is not a country where many people do things on their own. At the summit I was roped in to join the group photo of a large group of lovely old men who insisted on pressing food onto me. Back at the bottom gondola station the water-jump was in use - a couple of small ski-jumps on a dry slope which provided a landing zone in the form of a swimming pool.　I walked back up to watch various snowboarders and skiers whizz down the jump, perform various spins and somersaults, then land with a cracking splash in the pool. And just to prove how important fashion is to these freestylers, I was pleased to note that over their wetsuits and life-jackets they had taken the trouble to pull on baggy board shorts and enormous logo-encrusted t-shirts. Refreshing as it looked, I declined the invitation to have a go. After returning to the hostel I took the train to Hakuba where I had a brief potter around and a look at a nice little park by the river with a few thatched buildings, a miniature suspension bridge and a decorative water wheel. Later in the evening the manager of the hostel took everyone (it`s nice and quiet - not exactly a full hostel) to see the fireflies nearby. There weren`t thousands, but there were enough to make a captivating show as they blinked in the ditches and trailed greenly by in low-level flight. It was starting to rain and lightning flickered constantly, adding a strange dimension as it obliterated the fireflies` glow but lit up the surroundings in its startling white flicker.

Yesterday I joined two other travellers from my hostel and took the bus to the Happo ski area in Hakuba, where we took a gondola and two chair lifts up the mountain to do some more walking. Forty minutes or so took us to Happo Ike - a pretty little pond at 2060m. Still stiff from yesterday`s exertions, I sat a while longer while my companions began the ascent towards the main summit and was rewarded with a brief clearing of the mist/cloud. I decided that a little more gentle exercise was in order and continued the climb for another half hour or so, until the path became enclosed by foliage and the intermittent views (cloud dependent) disappeared. I knew I didn`t have the fitness for the summit, so instead enjoyed a leisurely descent. Despite a long hot soak in the bath, my calves were so tight from the unaccustomed climbing, or maybe the descent, that I could barely hobble down the stairs that evening.

This morning, down-stairs movement was still a problem, so after a lie-in and late breakfast I decided to punish some different muscles and hired a bike. I cycled to Aoki Lake, a beautiful stretch of deep green water (though no doubt much of the colour is due to the reflection of the forested hills that surround it) and on and round a neighbouring smaller, but equally stunning, lake. Both of them could be circled using paths or little-used single-track roads, making for idyllic cycling conditions. On the way back I diverted from the road and took a track between the rice fields, bimbling along enjoying sun, solitude and serenity. By early evening, showered and relaxed, I was ravenous and strolled down through the village one last time in search of dinner. I ate some good Japanese food and as I meandered back to the hostel in the last of the day`s light I felt unbelievably good and realised with a pang that I really don`t want to leave this place. I could so happily just stay here till it`s time to go home, enjoying the best hostel I`ve ever stayed in, the mountain scenery, the walks and bike rides I still haven`t taken, the peace and ease of life here. This is truly a place to remember, to come back to.

Hiroshima to Kamishiro

Set off on this epic train journey slightly unsure what to expect, but the Shinkansen were running fine, with up to 5 minute delays. The rain had stopped and I enjoyed watching bits of Japan fly by in between the countless tunnels. Three trains and some curious sandwiches later, I had made it to Nagoya just in time to miss my connection. I was clearly already off the tourist trail as there was no train information in English here, but I spotted a sign for the Oito Line and with a dose of positive thinking managed to find my way onto the right train - a little local one that stopped about every two minutes. We chugged gently uphill for at least an hour, much of the time following an impressive river churning big white white water for stretches of, I reckon, about 20km at a time. But not one kayak in sight! The train carried on in the narrowing lush green valley, crossing many small wildly flowing rivers and channels, the villages and stations getter ever smaller until we seemed to be part of a toy train set. Another change followed, and my idea that staying put and waiting for the next train would probably be the answer was proved right during a simple conversation with a train driver that involved some pointing at a train and a watch and saying "Kamishiro?" Really getting the hang of this Japanese language. The journey continued slowly, the rain poured heavily and I peered hopefully out of the steamed up windows looking for station signs... Even managed to work the payphone on arrival to request pick-up from the station! Despite the rain, low cloud and darkness, this area looks very promising. Kamishiro is near Hakuba, in the Japan Alps, and in winter is a popular ski resort. The buildings all look rather alpine, with definite hints of Swiss or Norwegian design. Now all I need is a break in the rain so I can get out there for hiking, biking, climbing.... Does St Swithun have jurisdiction in Japan?

fun stuff

Rain, rain and more rain. Enough to bring the trains across the country to a halt - so much for my view of the invincibly efficient JR network. The rain had already put my Miyajima plans in doubt and the news of train troubles made up my mind - I settled for a day pottering round Hiroshima. It's a very potterable city, small enough for all the sights to be within easy walking distance. Mostly I just strolled, stopped for lunch, and strolled some more. Tried the local speciality - okonomiyaki - something like a thin layer of pancake piled high with cabbage, noodles, meat, sauce, drizzled with more batter then flipped over onto an awaiting wafer-thin omelette. This huge creation was pushed across the hotplate towards where I perched and proceeded to chop large lumps of the delicious mass onto my plate. All accomplished with sign-language and prepared with gusto by a tiny old lady who never stopped smiling.

My wanderings took my into the supposedly hardware shop, Tokyu Hands, where I had a wonderful time wondering what on earth things were. This shop is amazing, it has everything you never knew you needed, from household items to puzzling gadgetry, wrap-around bicycle lights, 100 different kinds of magnifying glasses, fancy dress and typical joke-shop items, puzzles, shoe-driers, slip-on umbrella handle covers, clips for milk cartons... I've never had so much fun browsing a shop. In a department store I found a whole section given over to things made from microfibre tumble-twist bathmats (and bathmats themselves), the hands down winner being the floor-mopping slipper bootees. Very tempted to try shuffling round my flat in a pair of those in an attempt to clean the floor. Oh and the tumble-twist lined umbrella bag... that was another good one. Anyway, I managed to come away empty handed, not even as much as a plastic prawn key-ring - quite an achievement!

Hiroshima

Arrived here yesterday, after my first bullet train experience, which included a somewhat bullet-like change of trains in Osaka. Admired the Nozomi trains, whose streamlining is truly space-age, but they are not included in my Japan Rail Pass. Still, my train was indisputably fast and comfortable. Fell asleep for most of the journey, then staggered to my hostel, still feeling rough. Woke up this morning finally feeling a little better, only to faint ten minutes later. The headache has become something of a constant companion.

Still, I managed, at a snail's pace, to wander through town to the Peace Memorial Park and its museum. It was - predictably - both moving and disturbing, as well as being an all round excellent museum with copious English explanations. Spent hours there. A haunting experience. Individual stories and eyewitness accounts can barely help you make sense of the scale of destruction shown in the photographs and enormous before and after models of the city, but most disturbing of all is the simplicity of the reasons why the bomb was used at all (in large part to justify the massive expenditure on its development), why against Japan not Germany, and how Hiroshima moved to the top of the target list. Then finally, the weather: "The day was fine, the sky clear, and Hiroshima's fate was sealed."

Just outside the park, across the river, stands the remains of the prefecture hall, which is now known as the A-bomb dome. It is an unimpressive building with the metal girders that once bore the domed roof still bare against the sky. Its very unimpressiveness is what makes it so impressive, the only damaged site still standing. It was almost directly below the hypocenter. Photos showed a few other buildings that had partially survived, but for a 2km radius, there was almost nothing but rubble. In the museum were fascinating objects showing the heat (up to 2000 or 3000 degrees C), such as roof tiles melted into lava-like blobs, bottles deformed and melted together, a stack of rice-bowls also partly-melted and made into one warped solid... And god, the stories of the burns, hundreds of people who staggered home with their flesh dripping off their bodies, who didn't die for another day or even two - how can anyone survive that, even for a day, with no medical care? Huge numbers of the immediate dead were children, junior high-school kids who were all involved in clearing fire-breaks in the city and so were working outside at the time.

I wasn't going to write about the museum really - those of you who know your history will know it all already - but somehow it just came out. The museum finishes with a display of nuclear arms in the world today and the developments in weaponry since Hiroshima. Chilling.

Kyoto

I don't think I have ever before experienced such a feeling of being an alien. Separated by yawning chasms of culture and language, surrounded by a script that means nothing to me, it is easy imagine I have landed on another planet. A squeaky-clean one where traffic gives way to pedestrians, who in their turn wait patiently for the green man before crossing utterly deserted intersections. Manners are everything, paying for dinner or goods in a shop involves lengthy exchanges that far exceed the simple 'thank you / you're welcome' I've learned, reducing my detailed conversation to a series of idiotic smiles and nods. I walked past a row of ten ATMs, thinking they must be something else - where else does an ATM not look like an ATM?

There's nothing not to like about Kyoto. I've spent a pleasant day and a half wandering around (it's so pedestrian-friendly here!), taking in temples, old backstreets lined with souvenier and crafty shops housed in traditional wooden buildings, a shopping street selling nothing but tacky kitsch, eating sushi - of course - as well as black sesame and green tea ice cream and other more substantial treats. Kyoto station is more of a giant sculpture of glass and steel than a building - even in my jet-lagged, sleep-deprived state on arrival I couldn't miss its impressive architecture. And despite my doubts, getting myself on the right train from the airport to Kyoto was straightforward. Everything here smacks of efficiency, with the very pleasant twist of it all being administered with the ultimate in politeness. The airport was so efficient that I could have sworn only 4 people got off my flight - I never saw more than that number at passports, customs etc. Had a pleasant chat with the charming young man who searched my bag and asked about my itinerary. Grumpy officials everywhere could learn a thing or three here.

I have been in something of a daze since I got here, first from jet-lag, or so I thought, but I have been fighting off signs of migraine for two days now and energy is low. So I'll be heading for an early night - no karaoke for me!

Jeita and Byblos

Jeita Grotto is stunning - a cave system comprising an upper cavern astonishing in its rock formations, from stalagmites and stalactites to organ pipes, coral-like and mushroom-like formations to works of natural art undefinable. Despite the theme-park vibe of the place (mini trains, mini zoo, etc) outside the caves, the inside was tastefully lit in an understated way. The lower grotto contains a river and a short boat ride through its peaceful interior showed more of the same, but with the magical atmosphere that calm water provides. Both caverns had me gaping in wonder - this was a breathtaking glimpse of what is only a fraction of the whole cave system.

I'd joined a day trip from Beirut, and from Jeita our minibus continued to Jounieh, a sprawling coastal town, no longer even separated from Beirut. Above the town we stopped at Harissa, one of a number of Christian monuments in the area, which stood high above the town and offered awesome views. We returned to sea level by means of the telepherique - a little cable-car-gondola ride which chugged steeply downhill, finishing by a run in to the station travelling between blocks of flats.The Lonely Planet tagged this as a terripherique, so I was disappointed to find it chugging in a sedate manner, despite its slightly aged appearance.

Next stop was Byblos, site of a series of ruins from neolithic through roman to a crusader castle. Parts of the archaeological site were pretty impressive and the setting was stunning, with the pretty harbour, souk and old church all giving the place a very appealing, if touristy air. We stopped in at the tiny fish fossil museum, where some amazing fossils were on display and an assistant sat splitting rocks and letting dead fish taste fresh air for the first time in a million years. Apparently these fossils are unique in the middle east - I forget the details. I would definitely have liked to spend longer in Byblos - somewhere I could happily have dawdled.

Our day trip ended with lunch at a beach resort just north of Byblos - a pebbly beach getting a lot of use on this unexpected public holiday, the Mediterranean a stunning shade of turquoise in the sun. I went for a paddle and would officially rate the water as 'refreshing'.

Beirut

Beirut has a roguish charm, you fall for it in the way you would a bad boy with a winning smile.

I have spent the whole day walking, watching the landscape change from district to district. The air is thick with the sweet smoke of shisha, occasionally giving way to strong coffee. The roads are packed with cars speeding to a halt, driving willy-nilly, horns honking incessantly. They range from swanky soft-tops to battered ancient taxis with bumpers tied on with yellow nylon string and rear light covers sellotaped on. Buses are scarred with lengthy scratches, testament to their cornering skills.

Downtown buildings rise gleaming over the wastegrounds and crumbling colonial-style houses, some with greenery overtaking them, sprouting from their balconies, many riddled with bullet holes. I passed the Holiday Inn building, a high rise husk, monument to the civil war in which it found itself, soon after opening, to be taken as a prime sniper position. It looms darkly behind the very swanky new Intercontinental Hotel, epitomising the mixture of destruction and regeneration that is Beirut. There are some beautiful old buildings, decoratively stuccoed (if that's the correct architectural term), coloured shutters hanging by the windows. But the majority of these are derelict or, at best, decrepit. Area by area, the state of buildings and the general vibe changes, making a prolonged walk quite fascinating. Around Le Place d'etoile all the streets are roadblocked so have become a calm pedestrian zone. Nearby stands the magnificent Mohammed al-Amin mosque, it's blue dome gleaming in the sun between four minarets as the bells of its neighbour, St George's cathedral, chimed in midday. On every street leading to the central 'place' cafes spill out onto pavements, offering dozens of nearly identical options for sipping a coffee or fresh lemonade and watching the world go by. Well, a very small slice of world - the area was hardly busy on this Monday lunchtime. I settled for a place which offered 'crap salad' on its menu.

By the late afternoon, having strolled past the open-air ruins of a roman bath house, the modern downtown area and atmospheric Gemmayzeh and had a haircut on the way back, I was happily walking into the sunset along the corniche. Young men were swimming off the rocks, older men were fishing and the views stretched past the docks, over the sea to the hills on the other side of the bay. I finished the day with a mint lemonade in a cafe down by the water with the added bonus of four middle aged arab ladies being soaked by a huge wave while they sucked on their shisha and sipped on the coffees. What tickled me was that they found it much more amusing than all those who witnessed it - worried waiters and concerned old men. In fact, women here, despite the inequalities they face, seem to live much more freely than in Qatar, where they would never have been sitting out smoking shisha in the first place. But it's not just the women - Beirut is a laid-back place. A man I was talking to at the airport while waiting for baggage said it was lawless. It is, but not in a threatening or scary way, just in a happy-go-lucky way. You see it in the way people cross the road, strike up inane but ranting conversations on the corniche (what was that about?), or cruise through red lights. People are friendly and it feels safe and welcoming. Maybe more rakish than roguish. I like this place, even though I've noticed that not all lebanese men are as dashing as yesterday had led me to believe. Still not complaining though!

Beirut

As the plane descended there was nothing but water, getting closer and closer in the way that makes you begin to hope that a runway, or even a bit of land, will appear soon. But a glance out of the window on the opposite side showed me city, small tatty blocks of flats flying past at a speed that made it hard tell whether the incomplete appearance of many was because they were half way up or half way down. Beyond, similar buildings stretched up onto the surrounding hills. Then beneath our wheels the runway appeared, bordered on one side by a breakwater, and I was in Beirut.

Arrival was quick and efficient, despite three different officials (the second only three feet away from the first) carefully checking every page of my passport, usually twice. I thought they might well be looking for any Israeli stamps, but decided against engaging in any conversation. The airport had a pretty visible military presence as well as this host of charming and good-looking immigration officers. I think it is also the first airport I have seen in 15 years where nicotine-deprived passengers are allowed to light up while waiting at the baggage carousel.

The short taxi-ride into town showed me more of the same sort of architecture, a stunning array of tired, basic buildings jutting over and around each other, somehow vibrant despite they tattiness, with beachy awnings blackened by dust or pollution flapping over every balcony. The road wound over aging flyovers and through an aging tunnel, then into a district of ordinary streets, where trees grew on pavements and people strolled with shopping bags. At a road named Rue de l'armee, we passed a neatly parked tank, its turret and gun snugly fitted with a made-to-measure tarp, and from there we overtook half a dozen jeeps carrying relaxing soldiers, a gun mounted on the back and strings of ammunition hanging inside. I began to think that the army were going to be very visible in the city, but further exploration told me that this is not the case everywhere. In my afternoon wanderings about the area near my hotel, the only other military presence I came across was the curious sight of armed soldiers overseeing the unloading of empty crates from a bakery van.

I'm staying in the Hamra area, where the streets contain a pleasant mixture of bustling activity and quiet leisure. Many buildings are pockmarked with bullet holes, others have been renovated and are freshly painted. The city seems to be staffed by good-looking and polite men - something I'm certainly not complaining about. My hotel is pleasant, though the rooms are what the Lonely Planet would call "tired" and I have a novelty shower where half of the water sprays sideways in a sheet out of the shower head. Oh, and one bedside light doesn't turn off. Not quite what you'd expect for the price I'm paying, but not unbearable either. So now, well rested by a long, if bright, night's sleep, I'm ready and eager to set off to explore the city a bit more.

Dubai Airport

First Class Sleeper