In Fiddler on the Roof, Rectavia says to his daughter about Siberia, “You’re going to that frozen wasteland?!” “But Papa I want to go,” she answers. My pre-Siberia questions and answers were similar.
Lake Baikal sits in the middle of the vast expansse of Siberia, a mega-lake with more fresh water than all five of the U.S. great lakes combined; 20% of the world’s supply in all. Depths of up to 1,637 meters make it the world’s deepest lake. Occupying a tectonically active rift, it is also the world’s oldest lake (15 million years compared to Lake Superior’s 10,000), making it a laboratory for evolutionary scientists. There are 1,000 species of aquatic flora. One of the more bizarre species is the lake’s mysterious golomyanka (oil fish), which is transparent, has no scales, and gives birth to 3,000 living “fry,” then dies. As for a more powerful denizen, the brown bear prowls Baikal’s shores in spring while adorable nerpas seals cut through the 115 centimeter ice in the winter. The lake also boasts sacred rocks, shamanistic rituals, and waters with curative powers.
The native people of the Baikal region are Buryat, an Asiatic race resembling Mongolians. Irina Pantaeva’s rich descriptions of Buryat land and inhabitants in Siberian Dream initially piqued my interest in the region. “My people were nomads for millennia,” she writes, “and in time their blood compelled me across the world…” Settlers converged on Siberia in the 17th and 18th cenuries for the fur trade. The construction of the 9,228 kilometer Trans-Siberian railroad in 1890s and early 1900s–at an astronomical cost–brought a sharp rise in the population.
Around Lake Baikal the two main towns with bus access to the lake are Listvyank and Olkhon Island. Listvyanka, about an hour from Irkusk, is a dingy outback town with mildly pleasant views of the lake. Due to a lack of information in English and changing schedules, there is a lot of confustion about ferry rides from here to nearby destinations. If you have afew days, it’s better to skip Listvyanka in favor of Olkhon.
The bus ride of eight torturous hours to Olkhon would appeal to an existentialist because the mile-upon-mile view of rolling, barren hills is somewhere between forlorn and surreal. The ferry crossing provides views of rugged and foreboding cliffs with jagged rocks and the lake far below.
While the landscape approaching Olkhon is surreal, the town itself is something out of a Western movie, only dustier. There are numerous small shops with variations on beer, vodka and choocolate. The antidote to the unsettled feeling upon arrival is the ten-minute walk to the lake where there’s a sweet beach with great views of Shaman’s Rock–billed as one of the sacred rocks of Asia. On the other side of the hill is a longer beach for camping, and there’s a youth hostel at the bus terminus for just 100 rubles (350 yen). It’s hard to imagine entering the lake any time other than August, for even at peak heat it’s a bone-chiller.
Tourist season starts around mid-July and apparently ends abrutly around mid-August; during that time, travel reservations are essential as bus tickets can sell out for days in advance. Hitching is relatively common in Siberia, but keep in mind that drivers generally expect payment, and traffic to and from Olkhon is exceedingly sparse.
At any rate, travelers will want to track down the English-speaking Nikita, who runs Olkhon’s main B&B, arranges numerous excursions (some for three days to even more remote places), and rents out horses, bicycles, and motorbikes. Olkhon is not, however, the height of customer service: two Poles told of languishing on the beach for days, waiting for a promised overnight boat excursion that never happened.
The Northern Excursion by van leaves daily, at least in late August. If the ride to Olkhon was rough, the seven or eight hours of four-wheeling the grassy steppes from one dramatic precipice to the next is like busting a bronco. My Russsian tour-mates shamed me by casually walking to the gravelly edge, snapping photos and chatting–one step away from the edge–as I cowered several meters in the background. The tour included a lunch in the woods and a truly frigid dip in the northern waters of the lake.
Despite Rectavia’s condemnation of Siberias weather, most of August was nearly perfect; a dry heat on sunny days. One morning after the one storm, however, was downright cold: even Russian babushkas donned winter hats. Still, it must be said, I came home tanned.
Travel Notes
I approached Bailak from Novosibirsk in the west, after volunteer teaching for two weeks at the Cosmo Language School. The school and dorms are located outside of Novosibirsk; a truly Soviet city built up after the communist revolution, near the River Obe. Students will sing, play-act, or dance with few inhibitions and teachers are treated to a weekly sauna and outings in the city. Learning some Russian is important for those with travel plans, as I personally can attest to after opting for the Obe of lessons for two weeks running, leaving me dependent on English speakers or translators.
An overnight train ride eastward from Novosibirsk brings one to Krasnoyarsk, where a nearby national park has fascinating rocks perfect for amateur climbers. Not using ropes is popular among Russians, some of whom seem truly immune from fear. An Italian fellow-traveler also raved about Krasnoyarsk’s discos.
Twenty hours further east by train is Irkusk, the city nearest Baikal. For those planning to take the Trans-Siberian all the way east to Vladivostok (about three days from Irkusk), reservations are necessary far in advance.
Vladivostok Air flies to Vladivostok twice weekly from Niigata, Osaka and Toyama. Prices vary greatly by season, but expect to pay approximately 140,000 yen from Osaka. Flights from Tokyo or Osaka to Moscow, although longer, may be cheaper. If interested in volunteer teaching or learning Russian at the Cosmo Language School in July, August or December, fly into Novosibirsk (contact Natasha at cosmoschool at mail.ru for details). Contact Nikita regarding Lake Baikal travel plans at nikita at olkhon.irkutsk.ru or visit www.irkutsk.org
Archive for the 'travel' Category
Japan has no shortage of winding roads cut into cliffs overlooking the sea. They are as quintessentially Japan as quiet mountain villages and rice terraces. The roads of Amakusa in Kyushu run around and near 120 or so islands, where the beautiful sea teems with colorful fish and dolphins. The inland roads, meanwhile, lead to springs and sites with the bones of Christian martyrs.
Accessibility, however, is the reason the Amakusa islands merit little more than a scant paragraph in most guide books. Inaccessible by train or bus, Amakusa is about a three-hour drive from Kumamoto.
One route from Kumamoto to Hondo, Amakusa’s main city, traverses the north coast of Amakusa’s main island along an unspectacular and heavily-trafficked road. The longer and lesser traveled southern route, however, has some limestone caves and a statue of Ebisu, the portly god of the fortunes of business.
The main attractions are after Hondo. Tsuji Island is a well-known dolphin-watching spot, a short drive north. The many restaurants along route 389, famed for their fresh crab and other seafood, also provide information about glass-bottomed boat tours. The dolphins are known to playfully jump alongside boats and may even be spotted from the shore. There are reports that some dolphins have moved on to cleaner waters due, perhaps, to diminishing feeding grounds, environmental pollution, or even the tour boats themselves. A little further along is the road to Tomioka, a small port with calm waters, a castle and the former residence of the novelist Hayashi Fumiko.
The coastline south of Tomioka has dramatic sea views, with good snorkeling and diving. Traffic is sparse and there are plenty of places to take a dip. Just after emerging from a tunnel, Shimoda has picturesque views from the parking lot of a souvenir shop. The beach is nothing special, but the underwater view is great. This is the place to make for the sea. Synchronized-swimming shoals of small fish dart in the water and other colorful underwater exotica swim around the shallow, rocky waters. An eye should be kept out for jellyfish, even after the danerous month of September. A short way down the road is a diving school which offers lessons for beginners. A little further down the road is a sea salt factory. The guide explains that the local soil has a low mineral content which makes unseasoned meat and vegetables in Japan particularly tasteless. To compensate, Japanese have long relied on salty condiments. This may explain the high death rate from stomach cancer in Japan.
The main Christian-related information site is at the Amakusa Shiro Memorial Hall. Portuguese and Spanish missionaries, most notably Francis Xavier in 1549, first set up shop in southern Kyushu. Missionaries were shipwrecked on Tanagashima (also the Japanese name for the harquebus, a kind of matchlock). Portuguese Jesuits were allowed to proselytise and gain converts until, the story goes, imperial regent Toyotomi Hideyoshi (nicknamed “Monkey” for his ugliness) sent some men to find local women. When the women resisted, some Jesuits intervened. Hideyoshi had been tolerant to that point, but that sort of chivalry crossed the line. In 1587, Hideyoshi issued an edict denouncing Christianity and martyred those who wouldn’t renounce their faith by fumi-e, trampling Christian icons.
Mogushi, at the southern tip, is arguably Amakusa’s best beach. It has great views, above and below water, and a great deal of privacy (lack of accessibility has its upside).
In the warm southern waters, the swimming season continues through September into October, and that month, on the weekend of October 26-27, Hondo hosts the Junkyo Festival. In part a commemoration of the peasant rebellion of 1634, as well as a call for peace by Japan’s main religions, the festival features a procession around the city, with stops at the river to comfort the souls of those who died in the rebellion.
Amakusa Tourist Bereau tel. is 0969-22-2243
Accessibility, however, is the reason the Amakusa islands merit little more than a scant paragraph in most guide books. Inaccessible by train or bus, Amakusa is about a three-hour drive from Kumamoto.
One route from Kumamoto to Hondo, Amakusa’s main city, traverses the north coast of Amakusa’s main island along an unspectacular and heavily-trafficked road. The longer and lesser traveled southern route, however, has some limestone caves and a statue of Ebisu, the portly god of the fortunes of business.
The main attractions are after Hondo. Tsuji Island is a well-known dolphin-watching spot, a short drive north. The many restaurants along route 389, famed for their fresh crab and other seafood, also provide information about glass-bottomed boat tours. The dolphins are known to playfully jump alongside boats and may even be spotted from the shore. There are reports that some dolphins have moved on to cleaner waters due, perhaps, to diminishing feeding grounds, environmental pollution, or even the tour boats themselves. A little further along is the road to Tomioka, a small port with calm waters, a castle and the former residence of the novelist Hayashi Fumiko.
The coastline south of Tomioka has dramatic sea views, with good snorkeling and diving. Traffic is sparse and there are plenty of places to take a dip. Just after emerging from a tunnel, Shimoda has picturesque views from the parking lot of a souvenir shop. The beach is nothing special, but the underwater view is great. This is the place to make for the sea. Synchronized-swimming shoals of small fish dart in the water and other colorful underwater exotica swim around the shallow, rocky waters. An eye should be kept out for jellyfish, even after the danerous month of September. A short way down the road is a diving school which offers lessons for beginners. A little further down the road is a sea salt factory. The guide explains that the local soil has a low mineral content which makes unseasoned meat and vegetables in Japan particularly tasteless. To compensate, Japanese have long relied on salty condiments. This may explain the high death rate from stomach cancer in Japan.
The main Christian-related information site is at the Amakusa Shiro Memorial Hall. Portuguese and Spanish missionaries, most notably Francis Xavier in 1549, first set up shop in southern Kyushu. Missionaries were shipwrecked on Tanagashima (also the Japanese name for the harquebus, a kind of matchlock). Portuguese Jesuits were allowed to proselytise and gain converts until, the story goes, imperial regent Toyotomi Hideyoshi (nicknamed “Monkey” for his ugliness) sent some men to find local women. When the women resisted, some Jesuits intervened. Hideyoshi had been tolerant to that point, but that sort of chivalry crossed the line. In 1587, Hideyoshi issued an edict denouncing Christianity and martyred those who wouldn’t renounce their faith by fumi-e, trampling Christian icons.
Mogushi, at the southern tip, is arguably Amakusa’s best beach. It has great views, above and below water, and a great deal of privacy (lack of accessibility has its upside).
In the warm southern waters, the swimming season continues through September into October, and that month, on the weekend of October 26-27, Hondo hosts the Junkyo Festival. In part a commemoration of the peasant rebellion of 1634, as well as a call for peace by Japan’s main religions, the festival features a procession around the city, with stops at the river to comfort the souls of those who died in the rebellion.
Amakusa Tourist Bereau tel. is 0969-22-2243
My American friend’s Japanese wife likes to remind us about how good English-speaking foreigners have it in Japan. In many ways she’s right. We may face some challenges, but in some ways we are very lucky, especially with all the chances to make money teaching English. And there are some ways to put money-making to a use beyond our personal finances.
While living in Kansai, I read about a “Save the Children” program where foreigners teach English once every other week, but didn’t receive any pay. Instead, student fees went directly to charity. Here in Nagasaki I have arranged similar classes myself.
Last semester I aught an “English for Charity” class. Students came when they wanted, and just paid when they came, with the money going to charity. Other times I offered the class with a set fee. After meetings and greetings, I gave everyone the chance to suggest a charity to donate to, and we ultimately chose the Patcharaport Thai Education Fund (PTEF) which a British man in Chiang Mai, Thailand, started with hopes to help disadvantaged Thai girls, who otherwise might end up in Bangkok as prostitutes, gain an education and a better life.
PTEF has built a dorm, paid for books for students, and taken care of the basic needs of the over 30 female students for several years now. A month after finishing teaching my charity class I had the chance to visit PTEF and its founder Graham Enwright. I saw that Graham and his wife devote large of amounts of time to the girls.
I considered the fact taht PTEF is not a large bureaucratic organization, or even a registerd charity, a positive point, because small organizations can more fully utilize donations; big organizations have high administration costs. To ensure the legitimacy of PTEF, I first read newspaper articles about it, and corresponded with a man in Japan who had firsthand knowledge about it. After this, I became convinced that the organization was letitimate and hence chose to donate to it. This past semester I taught another charity class, this time to help finance the building of a hospital in Guatemala.
The charity English class is the perfect place for “Peace Education” or “Global Issues in Language Education.” Peace Education focus on a wide range of issues–environmental, human rights, war and the like–but its essential aim is to make the world a better place. In both classes we explored issues pertinent to realizing a peaceful world.
These classes have led me to research worthwhile causes for future classes. For example, I recently connected with an American man who used to volunteer teach orphans in Korea. We share the same dream: creating a network of English teachers who volunteer time or class fees to help less fortunate people around the world.
To start a charity class, teachers should ask for a set fee, ideally paid in advance for a month’s classes. Try to find a good venue–ideally free (like at an international community center or Lyon’s Club). Finally, arrange to have students pool their donations and give to one trusted person or organization, then have it sent to the organization.
While living in Kansai, I read about a “Save the Children” program where foreigners teach English once every other week, but didn’t receive any pay. Instead, student fees went directly to charity. Here in Nagasaki I have arranged similar classes myself.
Last semester I aught an “English for Charity” class. Students came when they wanted, and just paid when they came, with the money going to charity. Other times I offered the class with a set fee. After meetings and greetings, I gave everyone the chance to suggest a charity to donate to, and we ultimately chose the Patcharaport Thai Education Fund (PTEF) which a British man in Chiang Mai, Thailand, started with hopes to help disadvantaged Thai girls, who otherwise might end up in Bangkok as prostitutes, gain an education and a better life.
PTEF has built a dorm, paid for books for students, and taken care of the basic needs of the over 30 female students for several years now. A month after finishing teaching my charity class I had the chance to visit PTEF and its founder Graham Enwright. I saw that Graham and his wife devote large of amounts of time to the girls.
I considered the fact taht PTEF is not a large bureaucratic organization, or even a registerd charity, a positive point, because small organizations can more fully utilize donations; big organizations have high administration costs. To ensure the legitimacy of PTEF, I first read newspaper articles about it, and corresponded with a man in Japan who had firsthand knowledge about it. After this, I became convinced that the organization was letitimate and hence chose to donate to it. This past semester I taught another charity class, this time to help finance the building of a hospital in Guatemala.
The charity English class is the perfect place for “Peace Education” or “Global Issues in Language Education.” Peace Education focus on a wide range of issues–environmental, human rights, war and the like–but its essential aim is to make the world a better place. In both classes we explored issues pertinent to realizing a peaceful world.
These classes have led me to research worthwhile causes for future classes. For example, I recently connected with an American man who used to volunteer teach orphans in Korea. We share the same dream: creating a network of English teachers who volunteer time or class fees to help less fortunate people around the world.
To start a charity class, teachers should ask for a set fee, ideally paid in advance for a month’s classes. Try to find a good venue–ideally free (like at an international community center or Lyon’s Club). Finally, arrange to have students pool their donations and give to one trusted person or organization, then have it sent to the organization.
Big smiles, beautiful beaches, snorkeling and diving, full moon “raves,” hill tribe trekking… Thaliand is known for many travel delights. But what about a ten-day Buddhist retreat? A growing number of travelers are opting for spirtual Thailand.
“I want to give you the best of Thailand,” the abbot of Suan Mok told us several times, his kindness and goodwill obvious. For ten days the 130 or so interim monks–we even took vows–contemplated dharma talks, meditated while sitting or walking, ate and slept–all in silence–and did not much else.
The first challenge comes early, 4:30 am to be exact, when the bell ringer incessantly clangs the bell for wake up. He keeps at it for 15 minutes, building loudness, always with a touch of noisy creativity. I would stagger out of my “room”–more aptly called a cell for its barred-window, boarded-over concrete cot, and view of the courtyard–and in less mindful moments, made jingles to amuse myself:
“Woke up, got outta my cell Cursed the man who rang the bell Took a walk outside and had a sit The abbot spoke and I went into a trance… Ahhhhhahah…”
At that point my mind would, for some reason, “play” Genesis’ “Supper’s Ready” rather than a continuation of that Beatles classic.
The days passed from meditation session to meditation session. From a day one or day two perspective, ten days seemed a veritable mountain of time, a massive stretch of bleak, but potentially fascinating desert. Nothing but ten days of unstimulating sameness and the chatter of my own mind.
The abbot introduced “Anapanasati,” which can be translated, “to take one truth or reality of nature and then observe, investigate, and scrutinize it within the mind with every inhalation and exhalation.” The Anapanasati system is at once simple and profound. Certain concepts, like seeing the breath as a sort of body are difficult to grasp, but the main idea is for the practitioner to try. With ten days of unbroken silence the chance is there to find a space within that’s deeper and quieter than normal.
This ten-day retreat is a lighter version of Vipassana courses offered throughout the world, including one in Kyoto. Suan Mok has less required sitting, offers bananas at dinner time, and takes a more lenient view towards speaking. We certanily had time to rest evidence by the whopping 25 naps I snagged (yes, I counted). The naps were a natural consequence to mindfully laying down after meal times. Thus Suan Mok, while it provides a worthwhile challenge, is the best place for first time retreatants to start.
Suan Mok is not far from Koh Samui where many go to party. Like the mainland, these island paradises offer something for those inclined for spirituality or cleansing. Some travelers opt for sipping coconut juice on the beach while trying a one or two or even three week-long fast at the Healing Center. The Center is particulay popular with Kyoto’s foreigner community. Whether a traveler works these in between raves, or makes it his path, either way I’d say that spiritual Thailand is the very best of a great country.
Ten-day Anapanasati meditation retreats are offeed from the first of every month in the town of Chaiya.
“I want to give you the best of Thailand,” the abbot of Suan Mok told us several times, his kindness and goodwill obvious. For ten days the 130 or so interim monks–we even took vows–contemplated dharma talks, meditated while sitting or walking, ate and slept–all in silence–and did not much else.
The first challenge comes early, 4:30 am to be exact, when the bell ringer incessantly clangs the bell for wake up. He keeps at it for 15 minutes, building loudness, always with a touch of noisy creativity. I would stagger out of my “room”–more aptly called a cell for its barred-window, boarded-over concrete cot, and view of the courtyard–and in less mindful moments, made jingles to amuse myself:
“Woke up, got outta my cell Cursed the man who rang the bell Took a walk outside and had a sit The abbot spoke and I went into a trance… Ahhhhhahah…”
At that point my mind would, for some reason, “play” Genesis’ “Supper’s Ready” rather than a continuation of that Beatles classic.
The days passed from meditation session to meditation session. From a day one or day two perspective, ten days seemed a veritable mountain of time, a massive stretch of bleak, but potentially fascinating desert. Nothing but ten days of unstimulating sameness and the chatter of my own mind.
The abbot introduced “Anapanasati,” which can be translated, “to take one truth or reality of nature and then observe, investigate, and scrutinize it within the mind with every inhalation and exhalation.” The Anapanasati system is at once simple and profound. Certain concepts, like seeing the breath as a sort of body are difficult to grasp, but the main idea is for the practitioner to try. With ten days of unbroken silence the chance is there to find a space within that’s deeper and quieter than normal.
This ten-day retreat is a lighter version of Vipassana courses offered throughout the world, including one in Kyoto. Suan Mok has less required sitting, offers bananas at dinner time, and takes a more lenient view towards speaking. We certanily had time to rest evidence by the whopping 25 naps I snagged (yes, I counted). The naps were a natural consequence to mindfully laying down after meal times. Thus Suan Mok, while it provides a worthwhile challenge, is the best place for first time retreatants to start.
Suan Mok is not far from Koh Samui where many go to party. Like the mainland, these island paradises offer something for those inclined for spirituality or cleansing. Some travelers opt for sipping coconut juice on the beach while trying a one or two or even three week-long fast at the Healing Center. The Center is particulay popular with Kyoto’s foreigner community. Whether a traveler works these in between raves, or makes it his path, either way I’d say that spiritual Thailand is the very best of a great country.
Ten-day Anapanasati meditation retreats are offeed from the first of every month in the town of Chaiya.
So you want to go for a bicycle ride but not start riding from your house? Take that bike on a train! For just a small baggage fee you can carry your bike on the train with no special bag, equipment or folding parts. Just detach the front wheel and cover the rest with any old cloth. Once I got away with using my poncho as a semi-cover. It’s sensible to avoid busy train hours, however. And note the first and last train cars are best suited for carrying the bike aboard.
There are a number of possibilities for day-trip routes in Nara prefecture. Starting from Saidaiji, moving east towards Nara, you quickly run into Heijo. The huge grounds are great to appreciate nature and make your own fun, and the eastern sky offers great views of Nara hills. Heijo not only offers greenery, but history as well. It has palace ruins–or at least the stone foundations–and pillars and rocks reminiscent of Stonehenge. Last fall, the government rebuilt the old east gate–’Suzaku Mon.’ An impressive museum has models of the original palace site, excavation finds, and information about Japan’s Imperial Palace history.
Following the northbound road just east of Heijo, you can track down a bike path by turning left at the bus stop; you could also exit Heijo going west across the somewhat busy northbound street. Take your first right and you’ll soon see the bike path on your left. Despite the presence of one uphill climb–just enough to get winded–it’s a great ride away from the traffic through forest patches and cultivated fields, around ponds and emperors’ tombs. Signs lead you to Nara Amusement Park, and specifically the golf driving range. Turning right brings you down a sweet hill and into the beautiful city of Nara. There you can easily spend the day sightseeing, playing in Nara Park, or enticing deer with their favorite food, shika-senbei, rice crackers for deer, which many street vendors will happily sell you.
For those with more cycling energy, taking the climb up Mt. Wakakusa is a real treat. Just continue east up Sanjo, climbing the unpaved road. It’s tough, but views from atop Wakakusa are rich rewards. The ride down will strain your brakes.
From atop Wakakusa, riding along the mountain ridge, going south is quite doable. There’s a waterfall and numerous ancient Buddhist statues worth checking out. The tree-lined dirt road provides a nice feeling, like you’ve truly escaped civilization; the drop in temperature is noticeable too. There are several routes to return to Nara, and all of them involve a thrill of a downhill ride.
It may seem odd in Japan, but wearing a bicycle helmet is advisable. Accidents, sometimes serious ones, are not uncommon. The handout provided by ‘Mike’s Cycles’ relayed some unnervingly convincing stories of accidents. If you do wear a helmet, make sure it comes down over your forehead. Also, resist the temptation to ride without a shirt. Finally, shifting your weight to the back of the bike on a downhill ride can save you from flying over the handlebars in the case of an accident, and using lights and reflectors for night riding are also sensible.
Although most people riding shopping bikes take to the sidewalks, I always ride the road. On pleasure rides, it’s counterproductive to battle the bumps and pedestrian crowds on the sidewalks. In Kyoto, drivers could be a bit aggressive, cutting me off, sometimes for no apparent reason. Still, I stake my claim to the road; it’s not illegal. Nara traffic is more mellow. Try to follow traffic regulations as much as possible–cyclists are subject to the same rules as motorists.
There are a number of possibilities for day-trip routes in Nara prefecture. Starting from Saidaiji, moving east towards Nara, you quickly run into Heijo. The huge grounds are great to appreciate nature and make your own fun, and the eastern sky offers great views of Nara hills. Heijo not only offers greenery, but history as well. It has palace ruins–or at least the stone foundations–and pillars and rocks reminiscent of Stonehenge. Last fall, the government rebuilt the old east gate–’Suzaku Mon.’ An impressive museum has models of the original palace site, excavation finds, and information about Japan’s Imperial Palace history.
Following the northbound road just east of Heijo, you can track down a bike path by turning left at the bus stop; you could also exit Heijo going west across the somewhat busy northbound street. Take your first right and you’ll soon see the bike path on your left. Despite the presence of one uphill climb–just enough to get winded–it’s a great ride away from the traffic through forest patches and cultivated fields, around ponds and emperors’ tombs. Signs lead you to Nara Amusement Park, and specifically the golf driving range. Turning right brings you down a sweet hill and into the beautiful city of Nara. There you can easily spend the day sightseeing, playing in Nara Park, or enticing deer with their favorite food, shika-senbei, rice crackers for deer, which many street vendors will happily sell you.
For those with more cycling energy, taking the climb up Mt. Wakakusa is a real treat. Just continue east up Sanjo, climbing the unpaved road. It’s tough, but views from atop Wakakusa are rich rewards. The ride down will strain your brakes.
From atop Wakakusa, riding along the mountain ridge, going south is quite doable. There’s a waterfall and numerous ancient Buddhist statues worth checking out. The tree-lined dirt road provides a nice feeling, like you’ve truly escaped civilization; the drop in temperature is noticeable too. There are several routes to return to Nara, and all of them involve a thrill of a downhill ride.
It may seem odd in Japan, but wearing a bicycle helmet is advisable. Accidents, sometimes serious ones, are not uncommon. The handout provided by ‘Mike’s Cycles’ relayed some unnervingly convincing stories of accidents. If you do wear a helmet, make sure it comes down over your forehead. Also, resist the temptation to ride without a shirt. Finally, shifting your weight to the back of the bike on a downhill ride can save you from flying over the handlebars in the case of an accident, and using lights and reflectors for night riding are also sensible.
Although most people riding shopping bikes take to the sidewalks, I always ride the road. On pleasure rides, it’s counterproductive to battle the bumps and pedestrian crowds on the sidewalks. In Kyoto, drivers could be a bit aggressive, cutting me off, sometimes for no apparent reason. Still, I stake my claim to the road; it’s not illegal. Nara traffic is more mellow. Try to follow traffic regulations as much as possible–cyclists are subject to the same rules as motorists.