Miyoshi

Going from Hiroshima to Miyoshi was really easy. There was only a single heavy uphill and during that rise, a few tunnels manifested themselves as well. After that, it was all easy up until Miyoshi itself. There was a single natural event worth mentioning, though, right after the tunnel-infested rise. The plateau was filled with fog and you could probably see 500 meters, no more. The sun was at times completely hidden, there was no telling where the disc was. But the clouds above were moving, momentarily revealing the sun and letting some of the rays through. Then, the sun was suddenly gone again. It was also really cold - only plus 20 degrees! It was the coldest since I had left Hokkaido, which I was really happy about. No sweating was possible in such pleasant morning weather.

In Miyoshi, I eventually decided to find out where the youth hostel was and stay there since it was going to get really hot in any case. So after a while, I ended up in a house with 80-something couple running the hostel and a grand-grandmother of 103 years. If anyone in that house, that lady had lost some, if not most, of her marbles. Even the 86-year old grandma agreed on that. In any case, my Japanese skills are nothing to be held in high regard so needless to say, I was in kind of trouble when they started talking. And did they talk! They just didn't stop when they got it going and it was hard to leave while they were on it. I felt not in the slightest like talking, though, especially in Japanese which is not exactly a forte of mine. But I didn't have a choice so I just sat it out until they grew tired or found other interests. This same event reoccurred later in the evening a few more times.

Miyoshi could be known for Japanese from its winery and grape farm, but I suspect there would have been anything else of interest to draw tourists to. It was really a relaxed village but I grew so bugged out by the over-curious uncles and aunts of the youth hostel that it didn't leave me with a good feeling.

Lastly, in the evening, there was to be some fishing on the river. It was not of the ordinary kind, as the fishing was not done by a pole or a net, but by live birds. The real "original local culture experience" was this circus trick: the birds, which are attached to ropes so as not to escape, catch some local fish and proceed to swallow them. Next, a brutal Japanese man squeezes the fish out of the poor bird's throat and presents it to the audience, who will proceed to pay hefty sums to be able to eat this once-vomited fish again. Such is Miyoshi and I will conclude telling about it here, as next morning I left for Matsue.