We'd read that Kyushu, anchored at the southern tip of Japan, bore similarities to Cornwall. Out of the way, rugged and well worth a visit.
After our stop in Nagasaki we decided to head further into the unknown, and to a place called Aso. To get there we had almost a full day's travelling ahead of us, traversing Kyushu aboard three different trains.
First up: Nagasaki to Tosu. Sun shining, green rice paddies out the window, everyone in good spirits.
Next: Tosu to Kumamoto. Uneventful.
Then: a 30-minute wait in Kumamoto where Jake and I sat on a kerb and Mark took a wander.
Finally: Kumamoto to Aso. Unforgettable.
It was only when we got to Kumamoto and stepped on the platform to see our train that we realised we'd landed something special: the AsoBoy Express.
Looking like Mickey Mouse and Hello Kitty's love child, Kuro was a small black dog that adorned the AsoBoy train.
Why? I don't know. But who cares when you get to spend two hours travelling on a Toy Town train to the middle of nowhere.
With the sun beating down, our freshly-made bento boxes in our laps and some of Japan's best scenery out the window, it turned into one of the best train experiences we'd have. If not the best.
Halfway through the journey we were visited by a female guard holding a large AsoBoy sign. After a count of 'ichi, ni, san' we were encouraged to trill 'AsoBoy!' as the camera captured the moment:
Bizarre.
Even more bizarre was the train itself, a kind of oversized creche with a book club for kids and a parent-and-child carriage with matching seats:
At the front of the train you were allowed to sit close to the window as it wove its way through valleys, across wide-open plains and past intricate Sylvanian-family style villages.
What a trip.
We arrived in the small town of Aso after a couple of hours. A classic one-horse town where all the action, if you could call it that, centred around the small wooden-framed station and the main road.
Our home for the next couple of nights was the Aso Base Backpackers hostel, a short hop from the station. The hostel, like the town, was deathly quiet on our arrival. We busied ourselves doing some laundry, having a coffee and taking a snooze on the rug.
Eventually the hostel owners appeared and checked us in. Soon after, Badger also showed up having taken a different route down from Tokyo. Friends Reunited.
As far as we could tell, the attractions of the Aso region included thermal springs, a volcano, and more thermal springs. So the following day, after my first decent sleep in a week, we eschewed the springs (for now) and headed to the volcano.
The bus journey there was fun. Imagine one of those coaches that used to take you on school outings in the 1980s: colourful multi-patterned seat covers, draughty windows, feeling every bump in the road.
However, instead of looking out at a grey London town, we had stuff like this to keep us happy:
The bus deposited us at the entrance to a cable car station for our ride up the volcano. And I love a cable car.
Unfortunately for this one, we were jostled and shoved by some overly-keen Chinese tourists and only just managed to squeeze on board.
The tourists had nabbed all the window positions, leaving the Englishmen stuck in the middle, with only each others' armpits to sniff:
Some high winds meant that two of the four viewings stations into the volcanic crater were temporarily out of action, but we still managed to get up on a platform and see the billowing sulphuric smoke coming out of the ground:
With the smell ofeggs sulphur in our noses we left the other tourists behind and went for a walk.
A pathway led us up over the cusp of a ridge and to views over a spectacular lunar-esque landscape:
My choice of paper-thin jacket wasn't the best protection against the cold, but you can't have everything. The other-worldly scenery and lack of other people more than compensated.
We decided to walk back down to the bottom of mountain, rather than take the cable car, and were thankful when the bus eventually arrived and took us out of the biting wind.
Back in Aso, Jake and Badger went off for some thermal bath action, while Mark and I walked up the main road and ate a meal in the Japanese version of Little Chef.
It was a petrol station with a small cafe attached to it. A handful of Formica tables, a few suspicious locals, a surly chef and some great food.
The food in Japan always saves the day.
We'd realised that there wasn't much left to do in Aso, so the following day we hopped on a train heading west, to Beppu.
Our guidebooks told us that Beppu was the place to go for thermal springs in Kyushu. Japan's answer to Bath, I guess.
At the station we were met with a statue that we found slightly odd.
The inscription read: "Father of tourism in Beppu: The man called Shiny Uncle who loved children".
Not sure what the Japanese NSPCC thought of a man who used a pseudonym and swung babies from his coat-tails, but there you go.
We walked through the nondescript town centre to the sea and then along the waterfront.
The strip that ran along the coast was full of drive-thru McDonalds and Staples warehouse outlets. Not the Bath-like scene we were hoping for.
Jacob was fighting a running battle with the 7 Eleven, trying desperately to get some cash from their ATMs and being thwarted at every turn. In Japan, UK credit or debit cards only work at a couple of places - including 7 Eleven - which meant drawing out money involved tactics, planning and stealth.
Eventually he got some crisp notes in his hand and we were able to go and do what we'd come to Beppu to do: get naked and bathe with other men.
In fact, that's not strictly true. We came to Beppu to bathe in thermal spring water. The nakedness and the men were an added bonus.
We found a decent-looking establishment and were soon robed in our fetching Kimonos, ready for whatever a Japanese onsen could throw at us.
We'd each been given some pants to wear for our first activity: lying in a sandpit.
The pants were an interesting crumpled paper/hessian affair. Not something you'd want to spend longer than necessary in, but much appreciated as we lay down on the steaming hot sand and covered our bodies with more steaming hot sand.
The natural springs radiated heat up through the sand and through our pores. Great for muscles, great for relaxing, and a totally new experience for all of us. Thumbs up.
After twenty minutes or so we were ushered out to a small corridor by one of the staff. She then told us to take our pants off as we were about to walk round the corner to the main baths.
With typical English prudishness, we embarrassingly took off the pants and headed round the corner.
You'll have to rely on your imagination, dear reader, as cameras were understandably banned from the baths.
All I'll say is that it isn't my idea of heaven to be naked in a bath full of lukewarm, murky water with several men of varying shapes and sizes (and, presumably, levels of hygiene).
At one point I looked over and saw Jake on the far side of the building being chatted to by an older local man. It all looked quite jocular, if slightly bizarre. A couple of naked men: one, my friend from London, the other, a 50 year-old from Japan, chewing the fat and showering their genitals.
It wasn't all bad though. There were a couple of pools with red-hot water, which felt amazing to immerse in. And another part of the building had jet streams shooting out and onto the bathers below - great for identifying a specific sore point on your body and getting it blasted with hot water.
However, I'd seen enough (literally) after 30 minutes or so, and headed out into the sunshine to get some lunch as I waited for the others.
Later, Mark, Jake and Badger recounted stories of sitting in a rectangular-shaped pool as a man strolled purposefully up and down, as if on a catwalk. Puerile jokes and laughter ensued.
The rest of the afternoon in Beppu was spent walking through the more pleasant parts of the city.
Jake and Badger went off to find more thermal spring action, while Mark and I walked through the blossom-filled central park and then had a bite to eat in a restaurant by the station.
One of the great things about Japan is the parks. In every town or city, you can find perfect little green spaces to relax in. We had the added bonus of the blossom.
We got a late train back to Aso, tired after our day trip to the seaside but pleased we'd seen another side of Japan and experienced our first (and maybe last?) onsen.
The following day it was time to leave Kyushu and head back north.
From random encounters in Nagasaki, to the barren landscapes of Aso and the baths of Beppu, it had been a detour well worth taking.
Next up: Hiroshima.
After our stop in Nagasaki we decided to head further into the unknown, and to a place called Aso. To get there we had almost a full day's travelling ahead of us, traversing Kyushu aboard three different trains.
First up: Nagasaki to Tosu. Sun shining, green rice paddies out the window, everyone in good spirits.
Next: Tosu to Kumamoto. Uneventful.
Then: a 30-minute wait in Kumamoto where Jake and I sat on a kerb and Mark took a wander.
Finally: Kumamoto to Aso. Unforgettable.
It was only when we got to Kumamoto and stepped on the platform to see our train that we realised we'd landed something special: the AsoBoy Express.
Looking like Mickey Mouse and Hello Kitty's love child, Kuro was a small black dog that adorned the AsoBoy train.
Why? I don't know. But who cares when you get to spend two hours travelling on a Toy Town train to the middle of nowhere.
With the sun beating down, our freshly-made bento boxes in our laps and some of Japan's best scenery out the window, it turned into one of the best train experiences we'd have. If not the best.
Halfway through the journey we were visited by a female guard holding a large AsoBoy sign. After a count of 'ichi, ni, san' we were encouraged to trill 'AsoBoy!' as the camera captured the moment:
Bizarre.
Even more bizarre was the train itself, a kind of oversized creche with a book club for kids and a parent-and-child carriage with matching seats:
At the front of the train you were allowed to sit close to the window as it wove its way through valleys, across wide-open plains and past intricate Sylvanian-family style villages.
 |
| Mark and I imitating an otter there, the symbol of the region |
What a trip.
We arrived in the small town of Aso after a couple of hours. A classic one-horse town where all the action, if you could call it that, centred around the small wooden-framed station and the main road.
Our home for the next couple of nights was the Aso Base Backpackers hostel, a short hop from the station. The hostel, like the town, was deathly quiet on our arrival. We busied ourselves doing some laundry, having a coffee and taking a snooze on the rug.
Eventually the hostel owners appeared and checked us in. Soon after, Badger also showed up having taken a different route down from Tokyo. Friends Reunited.
As far as we could tell, the attractions of the Aso region included thermal springs, a volcano, and more thermal springs. So the following day, after my first decent sleep in a week, we eschewed the springs (for now) and headed to the volcano.
The bus journey there was fun. Imagine one of those coaches that used to take you on school outings in the 1980s: colourful multi-patterned seat covers, draughty windows, feeling every bump in the road.
However, instead of looking out at a grey London town, we had stuff like this to keep us happy:
The bus deposited us at the entrance to a cable car station for our ride up the volcano. And I love a cable car.
Unfortunately for this one, we were jostled and shoved by some overly-keen Chinese tourists and only just managed to squeeze on board.
The tourists had nabbed all the window positions, leaving the Englishmen stuck in the middle, with only each others' armpits to sniff:
Some high winds meant that two of the four viewings stations into the volcanic crater were temporarily out of action, but we still managed to get up on a platform and see the billowing sulphuric smoke coming out of the ground:
With the smell of
A pathway led us up over the cusp of a ridge and to views over a spectacular lunar-esque landscape:
My choice of paper-thin jacket wasn't the best protection against the cold, but you can't have everything. The other-worldly scenery and lack of other people more than compensated.
We decided to walk back down to the bottom of mountain, rather than take the cable car, and were thankful when the bus eventually arrived and took us out of the biting wind.
Back in Aso, Jake and Badger went off for some thermal bath action, while Mark and I walked up the main road and ate a meal in the Japanese version of Little Chef.
It was a petrol station with a small cafe attached to it. A handful of Formica tables, a few suspicious locals, a surly chef and some great food.
The food in Japan always saves the day.
We'd realised that there wasn't much left to do in Aso, so the following day we hopped on a train heading west, to Beppu.
Our guidebooks told us that Beppu was the place to go for thermal springs in Kyushu. Japan's answer to Bath, I guess.
At the station we were met with a statue that we found slightly odd.
The inscription read: "Father of tourism in Beppu: The man called Shiny Uncle who loved children".
Not sure what the Japanese NSPCC thought of a man who used a pseudonym and swung babies from his coat-tails, but there you go.
We walked through the nondescript town centre to the sea and then along the waterfront.
The strip that ran along the coast was full of drive-thru McDonalds and Staples warehouse outlets. Not the Bath-like scene we were hoping for.
Jacob was fighting a running battle with the 7 Eleven, trying desperately to get some cash from their ATMs and being thwarted at every turn. In Japan, UK credit or debit cards only work at a couple of places - including 7 Eleven - which meant drawing out money involved tactics, planning and stealth.
Eventually he got some crisp notes in his hand and we were able to go and do what we'd come to Beppu to do: get naked and bathe with other men.
In fact, that's not strictly true. We came to Beppu to bathe in thermal spring water. The nakedness and the men were an added bonus.
We found a decent-looking establishment and were soon robed in our fetching Kimonos, ready for whatever a Japanese onsen could throw at us.
We'd each been given some pants to wear for our first activity: lying in a sandpit.
The pants were an interesting crumpled paper/hessian affair. Not something you'd want to spend longer than necessary in, but much appreciated as we lay down on the steaming hot sand and covered our bodies with more steaming hot sand.
The natural springs radiated heat up through the sand and through our pores. Great for muscles, great for relaxing, and a totally new experience for all of us. Thumbs up.
After twenty minutes or so we were ushered out to a small corridor by one of the staff. She then told us to take our pants off as we were about to walk round the corner to the main baths.
With typical English prudishness, we embarrassingly took off the pants and headed round the corner.
You'll have to rely on your imagination, dear reader, as cameras were understandably banned from the baths.
All I'll say is that it isn't my idea of heaven to be naked in a bath full of lukewarm, murky water with several men of varying shapes and sizes (and, presumably, levels of hygiene).
At one point I looked over and saw Jake on the far side of the building being chatted to by an older local man. It all looked quite jocular, if slightly bizarre. A couple of naked men: one, my friend from London, the other, a 50 year-old from Japan, chewing the fat and showering their genitals.
It wasn't all bad though. There were a couple of pools with red-hot water, which felt amazing to immerse in. And another part of the building had jet streams shooting out and onto the bathers below - great for identifying a specific sore point on your body and getting it blasted with hot water.
However, I'd seen enough (literally) after 30 minutes or so, and headed out into the sunshine to get some lunch as I waited for the others.
Later, Mark, Jake and Badger recounted stories of sitting in a rectangular-shaped pool as a man strolled purposefully up and down, as if on a catwalk. Puerile jokes and laughter ensued.
The rest of the afternoon in Beppu was spent walking through the more pleasant parts of the city.
Jake and Badger went off to find more thermal spring action, while Mark and I walked through the blossom-filled central park and then had a bite to eat in a restaurant by the station.
One of the great things about Japan is the parks. In every town or city, you can find perfect little green spaces to relax in. We had the added bonus of the blossom.
We got a late train back to Aso, tired after our day trip to the seaside but pleased we'd seen another side of Japan and experienced our first (and maybe last?) onsen.
The following day it was time to leave Kyushu and head back north.
From random encounters in Nagasaki, to the barren landscapes of Aso and the baths of Beppu, it had been a detour well worth taking.
