On icicles

Trust the Internet to convince you to get a shinkansen, two trains and a bus to see something on the basis of one, very pretty photo. I saw the icicles of Misotsuchi on some online article about a year ago, most likely at 1 a.m. in between late-night kanji study and late-night cheese on toast, and for whatever reason it ended up on my big to-do list, even though it was very out-of-the-way. Getting there straight from Nagoya would easily take the whole day, so we planned a short trip around it instead.

From Tokyo you can get a scenic train to Chichibu, an industrial town nestled in the mountains of Sendai. Chichibu has tried in recent years to attract a few more tourists, but to be honest the town itself doesn't have huge amounts to offer in the dead of winter. Except snow, a lot of snow. The background scenery is admittedly pretty spectacular in winter, and there are a few nearby sightseeing spots. We visited a temple at the foot of a mountain, which seemed lost in the spectres of time until you saw the sign suggesting you follow it on Instagram. After that we ate some udon and did a short river cruise with some Chinese tourists whilst a guide explained the surroundings, blithely commenting every few minutes that most of his audience didn't speak Japanese and thus how pointless his whole spiel was.

The highlight of the trip was, of course, the icicles, which were another train ride and obscure bus away. As we neared the final stop on the train, some schoolgirls got on and I wondered what it must be like to grow up somewhere so isolated; whether the boredom sets in deep like frost or if you find your own entertainment. On the bus I got pretty nervous because we had little idea of where we were going, but managed to get off at the right stop - on the side of a road carved into a mountainside surrounded by snow, and cliffs, and very little else, apart from a hut selling sweet sake and some illuminated icicles.

Nick da

The photo doesn't really do it justice, but even though these are just icicles with lights behind them, being in such a small, sequestered place, along with just a few dozen people taking photos and humming with pleasant conversation, made me feel all warm and fuzzy. It was like we all had some shared wintery secret. Afterwards we tried hot sweet sake for the first time, which is often sold at winter festivals and always seems so tempting. It was...not pleasant, to be honest. A bit sickly and sour, and it's got bits floating in it, which is never appealing. Crossed it off the list, at least, and gave me something to contemplate in horror on the long trip home.