Makino was the turning point in my journey, the non-climactic climax of my loop around Lake Biwa. The pedals moved smoothly on the bike I had borrowed from the hotel, and I glided effortlessly down the narrow lakeshore road, dodging cars and pedestrians on a lane too narrow for either. I passed ancient wooden gates protecting majestic temples, mixed in with old wooden houses belonging to anglers, farmers, and wealthy individuals lucky enough to have summer homes. There were bright green paddy fields and dull gray boat ramps, small shrines and old tea shops. There were also staring eyes, especially when I stopped to take a picture of something that seemed perfectly normal to local residents, such as a beautiful field or the sunset dipping over the lake.
Why was Makino a climax, a turning point in my journey? Well, in the physical sense, it was the halfway point of the loop I was taking around the lake, and the point from which I started heading back toward Osaka rather than away from it. It was the place where I experienced my first and only disappointing hotel of the trip. It was also the least urban, most rural place I had been so far. But more than that, it was the people who were different: the scenery of Makino was friendly, but unfortunately, the people were not. This was a different Shiga than I was used to.
Speaking of the hotel–I won’t mention the name out of courtesy–it was a giant disappointment. This was the only luxury hotel I was to stay in, right on the lakeshore and at twice the cost of the other business hotels I had stayed in thus far. However, its location was bad (15 minutes walk from the station through the middle of nothing with no pickup service, which is unheard of in Japan); its carpets were stained everywhere; its bathroom had random hairs stuck all over it; the swimming pool was much smaller than its picture made it look, filled with dirt and spots, and not open for use once the whole time I was there; the “private beach” smelled like garbage and dead fish; the “bar” and “restaurant” were identically plain (cheap folding chairs and cheap plastic tables in front of a large window looking out at said smelly beach); the staff were unfriendly, unhelpful, and uninterested; and my view was of a pile of concrete slabs, pipes, and tools strewn about.
But I was thankful for the bikes.
Because of delays arriving to Makino I had to change my schedule around a bit, but after checking out from my hotel (good riddance) and trudging back to the station, I was on the train for Katata. After calling the Katata tourist information center and conforming that there were in fact lockers at the station, of course. I felt a tinge of sadness as I rode the nearly empty train southward, near the west shore of the lake. Tomorrow I would be heading back to Osaka. While my feet hurt and the prospect of my own bed seemed nice, the idea of my vacation ending and “real life” starting again made me a little blue. On the other hand, I was looking forward to the day’s sites and also to a scalding hot spring bath that night.
The first thing I noticed about Katata was the people were different from those of northern Shiga. They were much more friendly. The bus driver really helped me out, stopping the bus as the stop where I got off and coming down to the street to point the way to the place I was looking for. He was a really friendly guy overall, and without him I would have been lost in Katata. The main site I visited was Ukimido (can be translated to something like “floating Buddha hall”), which is a structure that is built on stilts out in the middle of the water, and is part of Mangetsuji Temple. The structure was built by a monk from Enryakuji Temple (a temple on Mt. Hiei) about 1000 years ago, and the current structure is from 1937. It is probably the most celebrated spot in Katata, and it’s easy to understand why–it floats perfectly on the surface of the lake, surrounded by beautiful pine trees, providing a truly calming sight that brings one’s thoughts to things spiritual. I also dropped in at nearby Honpukuji Temple and walked around the surrounding neighborhoods, which were charming.
My next destination was Ishiyama-dera, one of the most famous temples in the Otsu areas. I took the train to Yamashina and from there rode the Keihan line through the mountains and along its steep, winding course into Otsu, where I transferred for another local line that led me to the bottom of a hill near Ishiyama-dera. This is one of the temples of the Saigoku Piligrimage route, buried in a forest on the side of a steep, craggy hill. The gurgling of water over moss-covered rocks, quiet stillness of the forest, and chirping of birds complemented old buildings that seemed as if they had been there since the beginning of time. A truly magical and mysterious aura floated through the grounds of Ishiyama-dera, one that transported me as a visitor to another world until I reached the top of the hill, looked out over the city, and remembered that Iwas, in fact, in modern Japan. There are buildings here that are more than 800 years old, and one of the rooms there was used by Lady Murasaki when she was writing The Tale of Genji. As I was sitting on a bench near the summit, a couple of people came over and talked to me, and two older ladies even asked to have their picture taken with me. One of them was from Osaka, the other from Okinawa, and the latter said she was planning to visit the American west coast later that year.
After I took the long way around the vast temple grounds, I finally made it back to the entrance and caught a bus back to a Keihan Line station, continuing from there back to Yamashina where my luggage was stored. I spotted a Starbucks near the station, something I had not seen for days, and decided it was time for a cup. After resting there and reading my book for a while (I was currently reading Itoyama Akiko‘s Fukurokoji no Otoko), I headed back to the station, only to have yet another lady I didn’t know come up and talk to me. Apparently she talked to me without taking a good look at my face first, because partway through she stopped when she realized I was a foreigner, assuming I wouldn’t understand. I assured her in Japanese I had no trouble speaking the language, and we actually stood there and talked for about an hour in front of the train station ticket machines. She was apparently studying English, but she was glad to talk for the first time to a foreigner in Japanese (beyond the level of “konnichiwa,” “I’m 26 years old” or “where’s the bathroom?”), something that is rare in Japan. It turned out she was a Jehovah’s Witness, and I politely declined her offer to come to her church, she was one of the most interesting people I encountered during my trip.
That night I stayed at Ogoto Onsen in a nice hotel with indoor and outdoor hot spring baths built in. In contrast to my last hotel, the staff were waiting with a bus when I arrived, and we followed winding, woody road up to the top of a hill where the hotel was located. The staff were courteous, and the baths felt wonderful after four straight days of traveling and walking through mountains and towns. It was at this hotel that I met the dreaded “slipper obaasan” (“slipper granny”),as I have decided to name her. What is the slipper obaasan? Well, she is an old lady who wears a yukata and works in the hot spring public bath section of the hotel, and her job is apparently to make sure people wear their hotel slippers when they walk down the corridor leading to the bath. During check-in, they had mentioned that I needed to wear the hotel slippers when going to the bath, but when I got to the room, I found that the slippers were about 2-3 inches shorter than my foot. I called the front desk, but they had no other size. Nice. In the end, I put on the yukata and walked to the bath sans slippers, only to encounter the slipper obaasan along the way. When she saw that I didn’t have my slippers, she flashed the giant X-shaped dame sign with her arms and started freaking out at me–I kind of thought she was going to rip my head off. With impeccable timing, the young girl from reception saw us and intervened, saying I could go for now and she would find a pair of soft room slippers for me to use and put them outside the bath. When I had finished bathing and was in the changing area, still not clothed, the slipper obaasan walked nonchalantly into the room full of naked men, stood in front of me, and told me my slippers were waiting–I think she had been worrying terribly about this, which I suppose was her job. She even stood outside to make sure I actually wore them, and followed me all the way down the hall as I left.
Refreshed after a nice bath–there was even one bath outside that had water falling at close intervals from above, so it hits your shoulders and feels like a massage–I returned to my room and took in the gorgeous view of the lake from my window. As the sun set, the lights of the cities clinging to the shores of Lake Biwa and the few fishing boats still out in the water became the only things that were visible. After breakfast the following day I would return to Osaka. My trip around the lake was finished, yet I still felt there was so much to see. I never had the chance to spend time in Takashima or Imazu thanks to JR delays, I still wanted to visit the ninja town of Koga on the east side of the lake, and I had never been up to Mt. Hiei or to Mii-dera in Otsu. But I suppose that’s be best part about Shiga Prefecture: there’s always something new to discover.