A cut in Takahashi

There are no shortage of barber shops in Takahashi. They seem to dot every other street corner. I was in need of a cut and duly noted the shops as I passed them, intending to inquire as to prices once I had finished touring the town.

I left Hiroshima with Ben, sharing a taxi with him from his house. He was on his way to Osaka and then to China for a business trip, and I was en route to Kyoto by way of Takahashi. At the train station we said our goodbyes as he boarded an earlier shinkansen than I had reserved. We had left early in the morning, and the kids were barely awake. I said my goodbyes to Teresa just as she was waking up.

I changed trains at Okayama, boarding a local to head up into the central mountain region. I was slightly concerned to find the train start running west before it started to head north and asked a woman if the train were headed to Takahashi. She assured me it was.

We both alighted in Takahashi, and on the platform she assailed me with a string of sentences in Japanese. I apologized and said I didn't understand, that I spoke no Japanese. She smiled and said, "No problem?" I laughed and assured her I was ok. She smiled again and left the station.

I booked myself into a small ryokan jjust at the entrance to the main shopping arcade. In my room, I could hear the Christmas carols and western musak they piped through the speakers in the arcade. I arranged my bags in a corner and checked the map given to me by the tourist information booth.

I had come to visit Matsuyama-jo, at 430m above sea level the highest castle in Japan. I walked from my ryokan to the foot of the mountain, stopping by a temple en route. As I walked up along the road, I saw a small sign pointing to a wooded path off to my right. I had been passed a boy who appeared to be surveying the town, but he was too far to ask about the path. I looked at my map and looked again at the path. The path seemed to follow a shorter route, and was far more pictaresque. I left the road and traded trodding on asphalt for fallen leaves.

Halfway up I arrived at a small parking lot. A man was drinking coffee from a vending machine. I walked up beside him and bought a Pocari Sweat. His wife soon appeared from the restrooms just around the bend. I watched them get into their car and drive back down the mountain. I finished my drink, put the can in the recycle bin, and set back off up the mountain.

I passed two older couples descending, but when I arrived at the castle, my only companions were some workers who were repainting the signs. They were on lunch break and barely looked up from their meals as I passed. I bought my ticket at the front gate and walked around the castle, the only sounds the wind through the bare branches around me.

The castle felt moody. The skies were grey and the castle loomed before me. I walked in and toured the exhibits then walked around the keep to the back of the castle grounds. I could see the city down below and the river. On the other side of the mountain I could see small settlements. I took photographs and blew into my hands to keep them warm.

On the way down I ran into two men, one photographing the other with the valley as backdrop. They asked me where I was from and one man asked to have his picture taken with me. I gladly obliged. They were from Okayama on a day trip. As we parted they asked if I wanted to hike with them. They pumped their arms up and down vigorously to indicate their plans. I told them I was already heading down the hill. They wished me luck. I took a photo of them and they asked me if I were shooting film. "Filmu?" they asked. I nodded. They smiled and waved and headed up the mountain.

Back in town, I toured some samurai houses and then looked for a barber. A few quoted me a price of 3000 yen for a buzz cut. I moved on. Finally I found a woman who said she would do it for 1000. I told her I was hungry and was going to get lunch but I would return. She spoke no English and smiled but looked confused. I tried to assure her I'd be back.

I ate some noodles by the train station and returned to the barber shop. The woman had disappeared and a man stood in her place. When I described what I wanted he said 3000 yen. I thanked him and backed out of the store. As I turned to go, I saw the original woman. She smiled at me, but I had no way of explaining to her what had happened. Once again I left her looking confused.

I wandered the streets looking for another barber. All the shops were empty; in some the barbers were napping. Near the canal I found an active shop. I pantomimed what I wanted. The woman circled her scalp with her hand. "Bzzz bzzz?" she asked. I nodded. She said 2000 yen. I said ok. She told me to wait as she finished dyeing her client's hair.

She shooed a dog off the couch and bade me sit down. I didn't wait long as she soon put me in the barber's chair and went off looking for her clippers. When she had finished I touched my hair. I asked her to cut it shorter. I put my thumb to my forefinger to show her. She asked me twice to make sure. She brought out another clipper and cut a small patch. I felt it and asked for shorter. She laughed and pointed to a photo above her mirror of a monk. I smiled and nodded. She laughed. She searched for her shortest blade and went to work. When she was done, she nodded approvingly and opened a drawer before me to reveal a sink where she washed my head.

I paid her and thanked her and walked back into the night, my head cool. I stopped in a tiny restaurant nearby for a bowl of duck noodle soup. A group of students had come before me and sat at a table where a small teapot bubbled above an open flame. I sat at the counter and watched the sole proprietor prepare our meals. She had told me to wait and I had nodded, taking out my journal to record that day's thoughts. The noodles were delicious and after I had finished I was loathe to leave the warmth of the restaurant. I lingered in the corner and listened to the conversations around me, enjoying the small town atmosphere before heading on to Kyoto.
Posted by eku at December 5, 2007 3:20 PM