On day six, my round trip finally began. For the first leg of this little road trip, I picked Sendai in the north, in Miyagi Prefecture. The plan was some sightseeing, a night in a ryokan in Matsushima, and then on to the cat island of Tashirojima the next day. The headline act was originally supposed to be the Zao Fox Village, but after reading a few reports about the animals being kept in thoroughly unnatural conditions, I struck it from the list. Getting there would have been a logistical headache anyway, so for once my conscience and my itinerary agreed.
Taking the Shinkansen
Naturally, I took the Shinkansen to Sendai, and in style. It’s the fastest and most comfortable option, whereas flying would have saved barely any time and cost far more hassle. A no-brainer, really.
I’d picked up my JR Pass the day before, along with the obligatory seat reservation, and had even made peace with Tokyo Station. So on Tuesday morning I set off early (Amber was still asleep). A smarter (or bolder) traveler would have hopped on at Ueno, but my reservation only started at Tokyo, so I took the metro like a law-abiding citizen.
By my standards, I found the Shinkansen entrance quickly. Yes, you need the right ticket just to get through the gates. Everything was spotless, with roomy waiting areas and a tempting selection of bentō boxes (I’d already stocked up at the konbini the night before). I arrived early enough to find my spot in peace and line up at my boarding point. Once again: maximum efficiency, flawless organization. You need it when a train gets only a few minutes’ turnaround, even at the Tokyo hub.
Then the beauty rolled in: a green Hayabusa of the E5 series, sleek, elegant, and closer to a jet than a train (Shinkalion fans will know the type). Everyone waited in orderly fashion until the doors opened. Even the seats had all been turned to face the direction of travel. Oh, Deutsche Bahn, why can’t we have that on the ICE?
Onboard
The seats were huge and ridiculously comfortable. I hadn’t managed to snag a window seat at such short notice, but with all the fog outside, I wasn’t missing much. The train left on the dot, naturally, so I leaned back and let the landscape glide by. The ride itself was sensational: no jolting, no rattling, no noise. Take that, airplanes!
Like most of my fellow passengers, I unpacked my bentō at some point. The Shinkansen is one of the few places in Japan where eating in public is perfectly acceptable. My coffee came from one of the countless vending machines at the station, because of course it did. The journey was over far too soon: the train covered the 325 kilometers (about 200 miles) in under two hours. Even a plane couldn’t have beaten that, at least not door to door.
Sendai Station
To see Sendai’s greatest hits, I relied on the Loople bus, a tourist loop that stops at Zuihōden and Sendai Castle, among other places. The giant Buddha statue, sadly, isn’t on the route, and getting there by other public transport would have been a hassle, so I shelved it for a possible return trip. A one-day pass costs ¥630, which makes paying for individual rides on the local buses hardly worth the bother. The JR Pass, however, doesn’t cover it.
Lost in… Sendai Station
So off I went to find the bus stop, which was easier said than done. The bus terminal is a maze of stairs and platforms, and the signage is baffling. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t find a single sign for the Loople, and my maps app was just as clueless, so I asked for directions. For fellow sufferers: platform 16!
The bus was packed, too, at least at first. Buses in Japan tend to be tiny and few and far between, and the timetables read more like wishful thinking. That didn’t bother me much, though. Luckily, I squeezed onto the first bus straight away, and we were off to the first stop, the
Zuihōden
I wasn’t about to skip this enormous mausoleum, built in the 17th century as the burial ground of the Date clan, and I’m happy to report it’s well worth the trip:
Sendai Castle and Ōsaki Hachimangū
Sendai Castle
Next stop: Sendai Castle. It was built in the early 17th century, right after the Battle of Sekigahara. Less than 50 years later, an earthquake wrecked parts of it, the remaining buildings fell victim to the 19th century and then to World War II, and only a watchtower was rebuilt, in 1967.
I didn’t know any of that, though. Secretly, I’d hoped for more than a nice view (or a not-so-nice one, since Sendai, like most Japanese cities, isn’t exactly a beauty) and a monument to Date Masamune. The museum didn’t tempt me, it was cold and windy, and so after a few photos and a convincing impression of someone gleaning insights from the foundations of the Honmaru, I hurried on to the last stop of the tour:
Ōsaki Hachimangū Shrine
This shrine also dates from the 17th century and is closely related in style to Zuihōden. A long, lantern-lined path ends in a steep staircase leading up to the shrine. Its beautiful main building is covered entirely in cypress, which give the roof a special sheen, and once again I was impressed by the gilded ornaments in the roof structure. With all the lanterns lit and no rain, it must be gorgeous.
Unfortunately, it was raining again and I was getting really hungry, so I cut the visit short. Experience had taught me there was no guarantee of a seat on the next Loople. I got lucky, unlike the poor soul who had sprained an ankle on the wet cobblestones and was being carted off in an ambulance.
On my way to a cozy bed…
Back at Sendai Station, I went looking for food. The region is famous for its sushi, but I was too hungry to be fussy and went for the other local specialty instead: gyūtan, grilled beef tongue. As a child, I had a love/hate relationship with tongue. Done right, it could be delicious, but usually it was tough, boring, or both. The Japanese version was a revelation: tender, grilled to perfection, and generous in portion. Amazing food in a plain station restaurant. Full and happy, I checked the trains to Matsushima, because all I wanted now was to relax.
The JR Senseki Line took a good 40 minutes, a world away from the Shinkansen. I didn’t mind and used the time to catch up with friends on my phone.
The ryokan
From Matsushima station, it was about a 15-minute walk, partly along a road and partly past a sports center. I was extremely grateful for Google Maps, because I’d never have found the place on my own. The weather had turned thoroughly miserable: cold, windy, raining cats and dogs, and of course I had left my umbrella in Ueno.
When I arrived at the Matsushima Koumura Ryokan, the elderly couple who run it welcomed me warmly. The place has a story: it was rebuilt to house relief workers after the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake.
I was handed a towel straight away, and the lady of the house fussed around me with a worried look. There was even a little “quiz” (guess the number of islands in the bay), with a small bottle of sake as the “prize” (I suspect I’d have got it anyway). A young woman showed me to my room, and I had a few minutes to catch my breath. The assortment of shoes confused me for a moment, until I remembered: the raised floor means street shoes come off. And of course, no shoes whatsoever on the tatami. There was (naturally) a separate pair of slippers waiting in the toilet.
I unpacked the essentials, put the camera on the charger, and headed back out to the nearest konbini, a 7-Eleven, for dinner. I had forgotten to book dinner at the ryokan, so the kitchen wasn’t prepared, and asking for something anyway felt rude. Restaurants nearby were scarce. Since I planned to leave early the next morning, I’d be missing breakfast too.
Jasmine, well done, please…
Back at the ryokan, I chatted with the hostess, said hello to the cute little dog, and asked about the ONSEN. By now I was freezing and dreaming of hot water. My tattoos were no problem. I showered quickly in my room, slipped into the yukata and made my way to the bath. There I met two lovely students from Tokyo who were home for the holidays. Japanese people can be a bit reserved with strangers, but these two were open and curious, and we had a great chat. The water was almost too hot, even for them. Apparently, the geothermal heat is enough to bring it to nearly 60°C (140°F)!
After about half an hour, I was sufficiently cooked. I stopped by the hosts again, pumped them for tips for tomorrow’s tour, and wished everyone a good night. In my room, I drank the sake, ate my konbini dinner, and curled up on an incredibly comfortable, warm futon. Five minutes later, I was gone.