Having set it aside for a couple of days, I decided to revisit Deep Kyoto Walks. Rather than consult the Table of Contents, I went straight to the Appendix, and the Maps. Each had its merits but No. 8 - Nishikiköji Market,
seemed the most straightforward, and very doable.
I thought that if I walked it start to finish, Pa would be proud of me, having followed through on an itinerary and all. Besides, by the time I got to the beginning, it would be the lunch hour and the author claims that “the Eitarō has an excellent yuzu ramen.”
The route was easy enough, too far to walk but not by bus.
Just a note, should you ever become addicted to Google Maps.
Coupled with a good data plan, Maps is indispensable for walking a city, or anywhere for that matter. And what I’ve discovered in Kyoto is that it provides nearly everything needed for the public transportation.
There’s another function I’ve come to love - the real time Blue Arrow. It points you in the right direction and keeps you there.
When I turned the corner, I knew I was close, but wasn’t sure how close.
The Blue Arrow
got me to the exact spot I needed to be,
“just below the Irish Pub” as the author foretold.
The Eitarō, being a favorite of the locals, is a busy place,
requiring that I wait just inside the front door.
The wait was a fortuitous one as there was a gentleman who’d just left the table next to me.
As he approached the cashier, I asked what he thought of the soup.
“It’s the best on the menu,” he assured me. “You won’t do any better.”
So I ordered it,
and he was right.
Leaving the Eitarō, I consulted the map for stop 2. It was close by and I only need make my way
to the entrance of the Nishikiköji Market.
Once inside, the Daiyasu
was just to my right.
And as the author predicted, the old man for whom the fish shop is named was hard at work.
It was fascinating to watch him, but one doesn’t linger at the Nishikiköji Market
for fear of being trampled.
It wasn’t long and I had spotted Nishiki Daimaru,
known for its donuts, though on this day I was enticed by the green tea soft serve,
and the chocolate drizzled over it.
Enjoying the treat immensely, I was optimistic and assumed I would next be directed to exit the Market and make my way through a lovely neighborhood of Shrines and Temples.
But I was mistaken.
Consulting the map, and Google, I discovered to my dismay that each of the remaining stops, except the last, were all within the Market. I felt trapped. I didn’t want to disappoint Pa, but I wanted to make it out alive. And there were 13 stops to go. My breathing accelerated and my chest began to seize. But I gritted my teeth, clenched my fists, and moved on.
As fortune would have it,
the Inoue Tsukudani-te was permanently closed.
And while the Uchida Tsukemono Nishi-ten did have some delicious looking fare,
and Notoya was interesting enough,
Google couldn’t find Kanemats, Miki Keiran, and Shimamoto Nori Kanbutsu. It did locate
Hökyüan, Daitomo, and Kikuya, each at least an hour away by train.
Under any other circumstances, I would have asked for directions. But I still had a long way to go,
so I coached myself: “Don’t ask anyone, anything. Your life depends on it.”
And now I understood Thoreau:
“Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.”
But then there was light,
and as I neared it,
a Wendy’s.
I thought I was going to vomit.
But I held on, and made it out,
though from the looks of things,
I was certain they were selling Chicken McNuggets.
The urge came again, but then the voice, the one that never fails:
“Get thee to an Onsen.”
And I did.
And it was good.
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