With much trepidation, I prepared for our trip to Shimoda. Emily had not been feeding well for a day or two, so I was pretty stressed about that, and I was also concerned about how she would sleep for the two nights away. So all in all, with my usual optimism I was expecting a disaster, with Nick and me returning frazzled and bleary-eyed.
The train trip took about two and a half hours, the latter half of the journey hugging the scenic coast. Typically our seats were not on the side with a view, but luckily the people opposite got off before us, so we could shift across and look out at the ocean. I enjoy train travel here: I tried to imagine the conductors in the UK wearing white gloves and bowing as they left each carriage! The buffet trolley was about the same though - a meagre selection, and overpriced.
At Shimoda we took a bus for the short ride about three miles to Shirahama, where we were staying at Pension Sakuraya. It was quite awkward getting the buggy and various bags aboard, but we eschewed paying for a taxi and went backpacker-style. From the bus stop it was a five minute walk up a 1-in-3 hill to the guesthouse. We had to wait ages to check in as a group of women got there first. One was an obnoxious American who proclaimed loudly that she'd rather eat natto than drink miso soup (very hard to believe as natto is fermented soya beans and reeks, while miso is pretty bland). Our room was western-style - ie. beds rather than futons on the floor - with a pre-formed ensuite unit that you'd struggle to swing a mouse in. It was really windy and the building shook with the strong gusts.
Emily hadn't slept all day, apart from a brief nap on the train, so we weren't sure how she'd behave. It was already past her usual bedtime so I gave her a cursory bath and feed then put her down (literally, as she was lying on a mattress on the floor between our twin beds). We switched on the monitor and sneaked out, convinced that we'd be right back, especially as the curtains were so thin and pale that the room was still very light whereas she is used to a darkened room.
The dining room was down about four flights of stairs, with great views across the wooded valley. Though the portions were a bit small for my appetite, the home-cooked meal was excellent, especially the locally-caught kinmedai (red-scaled fish a bit like bream). We were given a free glass of home-made plum liqueur (umeshu), which was delicious. The owner seemed happy to take time to chat, and had quite good English. He was very interested in the fact that there are different words for some things in American, and I explained using pants/trousers as an example.
It was only 7pm by the time we finished eating, so we had hours to kill before we could go back to the room. As there was no lounge, we stayed at the table; the other few diners soon left and we had the place to ourselves. It was really unusual for us to have so much time to ourselves, and we rather enjoyed chatting for a couple of hours. It was almost like being back at the start of our relationship again. When we are at home there is always some chore to do after dinner and we rarely even sit down on the sofa together. Eventually it was time to go back up and wake Emily, who hadn't stirred for four hours, bless her.
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