Kotohira to Osaka, Day 8 of 8

Not much to say about the hotel this morning. Woke up, made my way upstairs to the chaos that was a large free-for-all buffet, finished packing up, and made my way to the lobby to check out by ten for my train at 10:44.

The local train to Okayama was nothing special, it did the job. But when I arrived there, that’s when it started to get dicey. I passed from the local section, through the gates, and to the bullet train section looking for my train which was supposed to leave in twelve minutes. I don’t know if it was related to the storms that cancelled my train yesterday, but not only was my train not showing, the train before and after mine were significantly delayed. And if there’s one thing I know about the Japanese train system, especially the bullet trains, is they are very punctual.

I asked one of the staff about my train, and she told me it was cancelled and just to grab a non-reserved seat on any train that would get me there. I had been paying for assigned seats in the reserved cars just to not have to deal with the stress of fighting for a seat should it be crowded, and today I had to do just that. Thank whomever the Japanese are polite and orderly (thinking back to China where I was elbowed out of the way by an old lady as everyone tried to cram onto the bus at once). To that end, they have indicators for each car and where to board, as well as markings on the ground to queue up. I took my place in a shortish line and hoped for the best as the train that was due was perpetually “25 minutes delayed”.

As I was waiting, another train was announced on the opposite track of the same platform also heading to Osaka, but hitting every stop before then as well. It wasn’t delayed, but it also hadn’t arrived yet. I held my ground in line having a decent spot as people had been leaving for other options. Eventually the train arrived whilst the board still indicated “25 minutes delayed”.

But as it did, I noticed it was rather full looking through the windows. Some passengers alighted, and those in front of me got on. But just as I made it to the front of the queue, the previous passengers were struggling to fit inside.

I was not going to make it on this train. Resigning myself to possibly having to take the next delayed train, the aforementioned train that would stop at every stop arrived, and it appeared to be empty!

I quickly left the queue and jumped into the other. The doors opened, and I made my way inside with no trouble whatsoever and quickly found a seat. This might be a slower bullet train, but at least I wouldn’t be standing in an overcrowded train. From my window I saw the train I didn’t make it on and the queue had vanished. Apparently, they had instructed passengers to make their way into the aisles as well. I did not relish the idea of doing that. Even at the near relativistic speeds obtained by the marvels of Japanese transportation, it still would have taken at least an hour to get to where I would be heading on that train.

After what was a rather pleasant couple of hours not pretending to be a sardine, we arrived at Osaka. When I left the week previous, the air was approaching the point where it was no longer a gas, but a superheated plasma. Today it was rather pleasant. Because of course it would be as I finished my trip.

Barely breaking a sweat as I made my way from the bullet trains to the local subway, I quickly found where I needed to go and took the train a few stops. When I booked my trip, and the hotels before and after, I decided to switch things up and try a different hotel. This one was a fancy hotel.

Yeah, I’m not fancy. I don’t know what I was thinking.

One of the main draws for this hotel, I would assume, is its location right in the shopping district, full of Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and… The Gap. My hotel actually had an entrance via the subway. It was convenient of course, but I had to pass a plethora of shops and jewelry stores just to get to the lobby. It’s like when you go to the mall, and you have to walk through the perfume section just to get out the door.

And that’s clearly not me.

It’s fine. It’s just a hotel. I’m a bit early so I wait in the lobby about half an hour to check in. The staff is as obsequious as I’ve come to expect, no complaints there. But I do feel bad having a tiny Japanese woman in her twenties carry my bag which is bigger than she is up to my room. I tried to carry it myself, but I’ve learned not to try and out-polite them. It’s a losing game. I didn’t want her to carry it, but I would have had to make a scene to get her to let me carry it, and it would have been worse for her in the long run. So carry it she did.

The room is smallish, which I suppose isn’t surprising given the price I paid, but I don’t need opulence. It does have a window from the bathroom into the main bedroom area, so we know what clientele they serve. And while they have breakfast options here, they are not included in the price of the room. The little three-star “budget” hotel I stayed at when I arrived had a rather tasty complementary breakfast, but the Hotel Nikko Osaka was magnanimous enough to drop the price of breakfast from $40 to $32 for hotel guests. I think I’ll pass.

Out of morbid curiosity, I checked the menu options. A simple coffee is $13. Something about that really bothers me. So being the mature grown-up that I am, I have started using as many of the complementary amenities in the room as I realistically can.

Why yes, I do need the use of your provided toothbrush and toothpaste. And men’s facial wash you say? Don’t mind if I do.

I’m not looking forward to drinking four cups of tea tomorrow morning, but at this point I feel I’ve committed myself.