Yuhara Ryokan

We managed to do an admirable amount of sightseeing our first day, but by dinner time we were starving, tired, and probably still traumatized by the encounter with Pervy on the bus, so we headed to our ryokan (traditional Japanese guesthouse) to reload.

After getting off at the appropriate bus stop, our place was nowhere to be seen. No problem, I had the phone number. Unfortunately the kind woman who answered refused to speak Japanese, and instead preferred a garbled mashing of syllables that was most definitely not English either.

"Smoru reebah [small river]? Sjooowlbulssuhfhwlsigaba smoru reebah? Bajiwjoslaiiebne there is smoru reebah. Parking lot? Jiwasobkwivoaoooowiiba smoru reebah you see?"

After about 8 minutes of this I was ready to drown myself in the "smoru reebah," if only I could find it.

Maybe sensing this, she finally said "Shiwaoslbbbooosowalarabu you stay I come." When at last the tiny lady came hobbling down the street, I think we all had thoughts that maybe she was taking us to her living room to sleep on the floor with her 17 cats, but after leading us through a maze of small back streets (pointing: "See? Smoru reebah..." Oh, of course...) we found our nice, spacious, lovely ryokan.

Phil traverses the smoru reebah.
Our huge room, with complimentary tea and cake snacks.Again with the tallness.
Freaky photo of me in my pj's.
"Shobuorlorrrossienbeiwasahai goodbye!"