Paklite. Tee, Hee. Ha, Ha, Ha!

Saturday 20th October. Day 86. Weather fine, mild; in other words, pleasant.

The lights came on at 6-30 am.
Human movement began about 7-00. We found the changing room useful. In the toilet/ablutions area, the western style cubicle was very clean and large enough to change clothes in, too. There were two Japanese toilets as well. Together these occupied the same area as the western-style toilet.
At one end of the area there was a row of hand basins with hot and cold water supplied, liquid soap, and a hot air hand dryer. Bringing your own towel was a good idea. There was also a large low bowl complete with running water and a flush. It looked like a combination of bidet, toilet bowl, and gully trap. We had no-one to ask what this device was used for, and we didn't dare experiment.
With economy and diet uppermost in our thoughts, we had breakfast in the shopping area rather than ascend to the restaurant. The shopping area included a number of food and drink vending machines as well as tables and chairs.
Vending machines have been developed to a surprising degree in Japan compared to Australia. Street crime and vandalism have been almost unheard of in Japan, until very recent times. Maybe there's a relationship between the peaceful streets and the almost zero unemployment that persisted since about 1950, well persisted until very recent times, that is.
Anyway, vending machines proliferate and can be seen glowing in all sorts of out of the way places: their cargoes of alcoholic drinks, soft drinks, hot drinks, cigarettes, hot food, cold food, lollies, magazines, and etc. waiting perfectly safely for the next paying customer.

In the breakfast area we had a choice of tako yaki (octopus balls), hot dogs with mustard and tomato sauce, fried chicken pieces, spaghetti, yaki soba, rice balls, fish cakes, French fries, and mazegohan (a rice and other things mixture). These meals were at prices that ranged from 300 yen to 500 yen. That is about $3-75 to $6-25 in Australian money in December 2003.
We ate hot dogs and drank the Lawsons bottled water that Shouko had bought for us the day before on the way from Kanoya to Shibushi, and this saved us from buying any drinks. This was good not just because of the gratification of thrifty impulses, but because there was a considerable choice of things to drink: two types of tea, ditto coffee, seven sorts of soft drinks, and beer.
While we were eating we watched a TV news program. It was called "Wake-Up!". We couldn't understand anything. There was a fair bit of background noise so even the occasional burst of someone from the USA was unintelligible.

9-45 am. We arrived at Osaka (actually Nanko) one hour earlier than I had expected.
By the time we were offf the ferry it was nearly 10-00 am. We walked a hundred or so metres with the crowd to wait at the bus stop. There were no seats, but there was a concrete border around a raised garden and the border was high enough to sit on with the back pack comfortably supported so the wait was not a comfort problem.
The people waiting with us were well dressed. Ladies looked smart in slacks , jackets or cardigans or overshirts. One lady was extremely thin. Sensible shoes were worn, lace-ups. Young people were well dressed in the usual "young people's gear".
After twenty minutes a bus came which (for 300 yen each) took us away from the port to the Ferry Terminal Station. How we knew what to do, if you are wondering, was from reading the signs and having talked earlier to the English language tourist help service which gave us directions over the telephone.
Most really important signs in Japan are in kanji (which we generally couldn't read, though sometimes we got lucky), hiragana and/or katakana (which we could read), and English. But if there's nothing but kanji, you need only to look helpless for a minute or two, and someone will come and save you.

At Ferry Terminal Station, Colin bought tickets (350 yen each).
You have to buy tickets from machines, so it is better not to have the first ticket-buying experience at peak hour. Three survival strategies.
1. to buy the largest denomination ticket there is and claim a refund at your destination as the ticket reading machine will return your unexpired ticket;
2. to buy the smallest denomination ticket and pay the difference at your destination (this is quite accepted in Japan);
3. to ask a railway employee for help.
The tickets that Colin bought took us all the way into central Osaka on two separate lines. Both lines were in perfect physical condition; not a sign of rubbish, plenty of room to stand in the centre of the carriage, between seats along outer walls, and plenty of hanging-straps.
There was the "New Tram", a notably clean, spacious above-ground train, a bit like the London Docklands Light Railway, which took us to Suminoekoen Station.
Here we descended into the underground to go by the second train to Nishi Umeda Station. This is the underground version of Osaka (above ground) Station. There are upper and lower levels in Nishi Umeda, shopping malls without number, food halls, and several million people walking purposefully about.
Following the flow of the crowd and assisted by helpful directions from a person who saw us looking lost, we found our way to Central Gate North. It was marked by a fountain and a silver gold tree trunk. Obviously it was a popular place for meeting friends. Nearby we used a public telephone to contact Michael Ratcliff, whom we had arranged to meet here so we could re-pay the 20,000 yen we had borrowed several episodes ago.
I waited while Colin and Michael went off in search of an ATM. They hunted high and low for the ATM which would accept non-Japanese plastic. Finally they found one, inserted the card, and entered the usual information. Instead of cash, they received a message, "Your card has been returned to the issuer. Please contact your bank."

Oh bother! impecunious once more.
We were going to have to pay the ryokan in cash, and, Michael said, we would have to pay departure tax at the airport, in cash. Considerably embarassed, we had to borrow another 20,000 yen against the assurance we would repay it after we returned to Australia.
Pockets reflated, we took Michael to lunch of tasty chicken dishes; a credit card was able to take care of this.
Michael helped us find the right platform for the Hanshin Line train to Deyashiki Station. Actually we asked for a train to Amagasaki which unlike Deyashiki, is a big well-known place. However, it was dangerously like asking for a train to Geelong when we really wanted North Shore.
Naturally, we found ourselves on a Limited Express out of Nishi Umeda. This thundered through half a dozen stations before stopping at Amagasaki, the station before Deyashiki. As you may have foreseen, after that, the train did not stop at our station, but continued roaring on past another dozen stations before it stopped at major centre.
This mistake was compounded by an embarassing incident. We found ourselves sitting opposite two primary school age boys and their parents. The younger boy looked curiously at us perspiring under our colossal, bulging packs; grinned privately and said something to his brother. He too looked at our packs and grinned. Our packs bore the brand-name, "Paklite". The joke travelled via the parents to the whole carriage.
Hmm; it was a personal message from Nemesis: one sees English writing used in advertising everywhere in Japan, but often the messages reveal their authors have had scant knowledge of the language, but who cares? no-one else knows better.
Anyway, several years before at a station on the way to Hiroshima, we had been greatly amused to read on a schoolboy's bag the commercially printed slogan, "I have never felt fresh". This simply defied interpretation, but the comic possibilies were amplified by the frequent confusion of "r" with "l"(for example at the airport check-in you may be fare-welled with, "Please enjoy your fright.")

We found the right platform to return to Deyashiki, stopping at all stations.
At Deyashiki we were pleased to find that the area near the station was almost exactly as we had remembered it. We walked confidently along the narrow lanes (just one car width) to the Ryokan Takeyaso, where we had stayed in 1999, when travelling with our daughter, Lynne. The owner, Mr. Higuchi had then treated us with great generosity and courtesy, invited us into his private lounge for conversation (fortunately, Lynne could translate), and after a while had mentioned he had a daughter who lived in Australia, in "Moonee", "Holmess Road". "When you return to Australia, you talk to my daughter by telephone."
We did, and, visits were exchanged, a friendship arose, and here we were back again.
This time Mr. Higuchi welcomed us in his private rooms with green tea, sweet rice and bean dainties, and Japanese crackers. In case you have a vision of us leaping about his sitting room, wreathed in smoke and dodging explosions, no; the crackers were the edible sort. Mr. Higuchi (he is in his eighties) looked well but was finding the stairs difficult.
We had our old rooms again on the upper floor. Two rooms, a "conversation" room furnished with cushions and a low table, and a sleeping room with a cupboard, futons, bedding, and a tokonoma.
After sorting out the official paperwork, we had a bath, then a short walk, then a slightly longer walk, escorted by Mr. Higuchi, to an okonomiyaki restaurant.
Okonomiyaki is a sort of egg, pork, seafood, and vegetable omelette. In some places you mix and cook your own ingredients on a hot plate on the table. Here it was cooked on the table in front of us. Taste superb! On the way home we were given a short guided tour of the local shops.
While we sipped coffee in the kitchen, More_Shopping was promised for the next day.