Skipping Pages
Our uninvited mosquito guest at the Minshuku (family owned Japanese style lodging) buzzed around our heads throughout the night. His voice amplified in the total silence. Numerous attempts to shoo him away were futile. By morning he was gone - as was any chance of sleep we had.
At 6am our host opens the door to our area and with an “Ohayou Gozaimasu” (good morning), flicks on the lights.
Time to go.
We eat our breakfast, say thank you, and leave to rejoin the pilgrims path. With no rain but grey clouds, we spend the day walking along the coast. The thirty-five kilometers to Imabari City means we will not visit any temples today.
In front of us we spot an older hero. His backpack skillfully configured out of a large plastic garbage can. His umbrella placement/concoction is personally enviable.
Before lunch came upon the best henro hut. It is so wonderful, in fact, that inside a sign written in English boldly states “No overnight camping.” An overnight here would be luxury! The fully enclosed and spacious wood building had tables, benches and windows. We took our time eating lunch and even stole a short nap in the cozy, warm space.
Our grey morning clouds unleash heavy rain within minutes of leaving the safety of the henro hut. My DIY plastic fashionista rain gear keep me surprisingly dry and content to walk in the downpour. However today it was Matt’s turn to grumble. The rain had gotten to him. Skipping pages was on his agenda. Forty five minutes later we arrive at Asenambi Station and board a train that will deliver us to Imabari City by mid-afternoon.
Fatigued by wet weather we check into our cool and funky hotel. As usual, more 70’s vibe, colors and of course patterned linoleum, adorn the property.
In our room a small panic develops as Matt can’t find his passport. We call to Noriko and ask her to phone our lodging from last night. Maybe the wallet was left behind there. It was not. False alarm anyway. It was stuffed deep into a corner of his backpack.
Of the two windows in our irregularly shaped room, the first faced another wall. Boring. The second window, however, overlooked the stairwell of an office building. Periodically the bang from a heavy metal door would rattle the window. Turns out this stairwell was the smoking area for workers. Every slam brought out new characters. Loners and group smokers, the quiet and boisterous. A sort of revolving slamming door of personalities.
Forgoing our typical convenience store dinner, we opted to go out to eat. A treat for sure. We chose a Korean Style BBQ place around the corner.
Back at the hotel, we prepped for tomorrow, reading about our next temples and completing our o-fuda (name) cards.
Early lights out and then, thankfully, mosquitoless silence.
May 10, 2016 - No temples
