I've probably mentioned this once or twice, but just next door to the housing area where I live in Hario is a Dutch "theme park" named Huis Ten Bosch. Now, putting theme park in quotations is a little deceiving. Huis Ten Bosch (hereafter called HTB) is a themed park, meaning it is a completely Dutch-themed park in the middle of Japan, but that definition doesn't fit with what most Americans' vision would encompass--roller coasters, lots of junk food, character mascots roaming around for children to snuggle and take pictures with, and lots of Disney-esque shows of fantastic design.
Well, maybe HTB does fit a bit of all that, but I might just be getting a bit ahead of myself.
Our friend, Natalie, had asked us to go to HTB once before for a festival of sorts, and we hemmed and hawed our way out of it. However, when she mentioned a tasting event of over 120 wines from around the globe, I nudged (shoved) the Hub into meeting up with her the next day so we could get our annual pass. Determined to be as health-observant as possible, we walked the mile and a half from our home to the entrance, completed our forms for a Navy pass which would allow us in for twelve months, and set off to explore on our own for a few hours before Natalie could meet up with us after work. Immediately, we spotted one of the traditional symbols of the Netherlands, the windmill, and got swept away (HAHAHA--I kill myself with the puns) with the beauty of the carefully-arranged flowers surrounding the towering giants. We crossed over a large stream leading to the ocean nearby to enter the castle which guards the only path leading into the majority of the park. Just inside, we spotted a teddy bear museum and decided to have a gander.
We really shouldn't have. Thousands upon thousands of very expertly and fancifully dressed bears surrounded us in a myriad of poses while signs all around boasted of the history of the teddy bear (which led to the most disturbing bear of them all--a teddy with a bear's body and Teddy Roosevelt's face; may I never see that again). All-in-all, even my strong, brave, military man of a Hub was a bit put off by the creepiness of the place, and we found ourselves tangled in the displays unable to find an exit. By the time we got out, we wondered if perhaps there would not be enough in the park to hold our interest (excepting the wine and the vistas, of course).
Oh, were we ever wrong.
The next corner led to the greatest place I might have found in any of my travels--The House of Cheese. Now, had we walked in only to find a history of cheese with transplanted faces of long-ago cheese makers plastered on the plastic busts of cheese wheels, I probably would have left crying, scared and scarred. However, what we discovered was a shop filled with locally-made cheeses of all varieties: robust blues, hard hunks of parmesan, tiny morsels of cream cheese topped with a delicate jam, smoked slices of herb-filled cheddars and goudas. The combination of it all was enough to make me cry for other reasons. Undoubtedly, we probably spent 20 minutes browsing through the cheeses before the Hub nudged (shoved) me out the door with promises of returning when we were ready to leave. At first, I was a bit upset, but the direction in which he gently guided me (PUSHED) led to a tiny path around the corner of the shop where we found a stand selling Cheese Shakes.
I love cheese, as the previous paragraph would likely convey, but even I was a bit hesitant to try a milkshake of cheese. Imagining a mix of disgust and intrigue a liquid drink of nacho goodness, I convinced the Hub to split one with me. We noticed the couple in front of us requesting blueberries to be added, but the thought could not break into the image I already had invented of nacho-ness, so I chose a plain cheese shake. Hesitantly, I took the first sip before passing it off to Hub...and then immediately grabbing it back and claiming it for my own. This reaction, however, was my downfall as he realized it must be good and demanded it be returned for his own test. Instead of the nacho cheese I had pictured, we had stumbled upon a cheeseCAKE milkshake, which has now become an instant favorite. We forced ourselves not to order another one, but only because we convinced ourselves that the teddy bear museum must have been the park's way of scaring off the faint at heart from the treasures within.
Every street we wandered was filled with fun and interesting shops or displays; all the buildings were modeled after an early European design, while the service was exquisitely Japanese. The entire effect was breathtaking, and we found ourselves running in and out of stores and museums, giggling like all of the Japanese tourists around us. Down from the House of Cheese was a cheese restraunt, which bordered the Chocolate House. Across from both of those was a candy shop, selling a mixture of Dutch and Japanese sweet treats. Our favorite area, other than the cheese place, of course, was a museum of eye-benders. We could not read the signs, but watching those around us led to such perfect photo opportunities as Hub versus King Kong and Hub falling from the sky.
We met up with Natalie just outside of the eye-bending displays, bragging and showing off our pictures when we noticed an older Japanese woman attempting to take a picture of the street we were blocking. We bowed then scurried to the side of the street to get out of her way, throwing in a "Sumimasen!" for good measure. To our surprise, she looked rather embarassed, but we went back to examining our own shots. A few moments later, looking up, we realized she had moved with us; turning around to see what she could possibly be taking a picture of that we were blocking this time, we saw that another woman was standing just a couple of feet behind us and to the side, flashing a grin and a peace sign. Blinking, we turned back to the first lady, felt the blast of her flash bulb, before the two of them ran away giggling at THEIR perfect photo opportunities--Americans on display! Natalie, Hub, and I looked at each other, bewildered, then back at the ladies who turned to give us a quick bow before scampering away, laughing again. I don't think I've been a Kodak moment since my old days of Smokey-the-Bear-dom (aka National Park Service work)!
The day was a gorgeous one filled with beautiful weather, delicious wines (which led to me meeting a very helpful barista who taught me the words for "sweet" and "dry," as well as running into a friend from work, Tateishi-san, who volunteers for HTB on the weekends), good food (a delicate pizza of Japanese bacon and potatoes--yes, it was delicate with those toppings, I promise!--and cheese, of course), and outrageous picture moments like me and the giant wooden shoes. I considered buying a smaller, slightly better-fitting pair before I admitted that even in my most adventurous moments of shoe-shopping I'd be very unlikely to ever wear true wooden shoes.
Finally, at the end of the day, laden down with cheese and wine, we hailed a taxi for the return home. Even a mile and a half can be killer when hauling 3 gorgeous bottles and a small investment in dairy goodness!
As an update, recently, we returned with our friend Natalie (along with her husband, Nate, this time) to enjoy the Christmas decorations that Huis Ten Bosch displays. This time, we enjoyed a feast of Chinese food including golden potstickers, fried rice, and some sort of sweet-and-savory pork before meeting at the center of the park for the Christmas dance show, with a hot cup of caramel milk to warm our hands. Sparked with the holiday spirit, Nate insisted on leading us all in Christmas carols while we waited for the evening fireworks (every night at 8:45), which led to Japanese people curiously watching us, attempting to determine whether we were a mismatched display or just crazy Americans out for an evening. Of course, we all know the latter answer is a given, so while we giggled our way through "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire," we had to appreciate the night for what it was, nonetheless.
Too long, too long, but I don't want to dwell on that because the story I have to tell you about one of our prior destinations is just too interesting to focus on the lapse in writing (plus, well, I just like covering my tracks and stuff).
The Hub and I had made our goal, this first year, to visit our local areas in Kyushu via the MWR tours we had access to so we could then start rippling our traveling our further and further from our tiny home in Sasebo. We had signed up for the Kumamoto trip once before but was thwarted in our attempts to visit by a mistake on the tour company's part, which led to our exploring post from before about Jusco and the wonderful appliances found there for sale.
At any rate, we headed out on our typical bus with my coworker, Eriko-san, as our guide. After stopping for lunch at a mall called You-Me where we had a strange, cheesy pseudo-Italian breadbowl, we continued on with the history lesson I am about to relate as given to us by our adept speaker (settle in and get comfy, okay?).
In the 1500s, the Samurai class was very powerful but often fought among themselves. One Samurai named Nobunaga was extremely ambitious and very crafty, enlisting the people he thought would help him to the top most quickly, even if they were not of the traditional sort. His second-in-command, for example, was a Shogun named Hideyoshi who was nicknamed the "Monkey," both for his wisdom as well as his reported 2 thumbs on his right hand, which led to foolhardiness in his youth as a skilled tree-climber. Hideyoshi was born to a servent family, but his ability to understand the desires of the common man combined with his ability to quickly analyze and respond earned him much respect until Nobunaga promoted him to a Samurai after he defeated one of Nobunaga's enemies and a powerful warlord of the time.
When Nobunaga was assassinated by Katsuie, his other advisor, Hideyoshi and Katsuie fought for control of the territory, and although Hideyoshi was miles away from the castle, he marched his army day and night to fight, and defeat, Katsuie. Once he began rule, he determined that no longer would the samurai be only warlord but instead should be skilled in all forms of war and of art. His belief was that every person should be balanced, and because of this, he crafted the castle we stopped at later, while his advisor, Hosokawa, who was extremely crafty and later placed his own kin as the leader of the samurai class, began the garden we stopped at first. Japan, he believed, was comprised of 54 distinct areas, and his tribute was to create 54 corresponding areas within the garden.
Walking up to the entrance, we could spy a huge lake just beyond where a solitary white crane rested perfectly on one of the islands. Arched bridges connected the islands and led to a path that circled the lake entirely and invited each person to meander pleasantly, allowing the calm of the gardens to soak in while stresses melted away softly. Rounding the first corner, we found two Japanese women drinking from a fountain before a shrine; Eriko-san explained that the Japanese believe this to be the fountain of life and that one could not die soon after drinking from it. I took my chances and strayed away towards a picturesque group of torii gates that caught my attention a short distance from the fountain. So reminiscent of a scene from one of my favorite movies, Memoirs of a Geisha, I had to stop and admire. Coming up behind me, Eriko-san said that the red torii gates, when set so closely together, symbolized the entrance to a shrine dedicated to business or to money. Upon closer inspection, each of the gates had family kanji inscribed, which she then explained was a gift. The benefactor likely hoped it would bring extra blessings to give to such a place.
Hosakawa also believed that the samurai should be knowledgeable of the most ancient art of the tea ceremony and had a tearoom built to his specifications where he hosted other samurai, officials, and local citizens together. During the ceremony, all were of equal status, and blades were not allowed in, so just to the side, we found a spot where each samurai were forced to relinquish their blades or else not fit through the small door where one would have to crawl through to get into the tearoom. Although the side is open, as you can see in the picture, it was impolite to come through the area and thus block the view of the guests, so each person had to bend in half and crawl through. With a sword attached at the waist, a samurai would never have squeezed through, and thus Hosakawa ensured no one would be armed when coming to the ceremony.
After leaving the gardens, Eriko-san passed out newspapers to everyone so we might make our own samurai hats in preparation for our next stop at the Samurai Castle. Giggling, Hub and I posed for a picture that I'm very sure he never thought would make it online but which I could not pass up. He, however, refused to take the hat into the castle, and I opted to go au naturel (well, not-hatted, anyway!) as well, so as the driver parked our bus, we stashed our hats to the side and shuffled out the door to Kumamoto Castle, home of Hideyoshi and his Samurai. Though the castle is not the original (the original castle and most of the walls were destroyed in a fire and rebuilt in the 1970s), one of the turrets and part of the walls are and date back over 400 years in age. Opting to climb the original turret rather than the rebuilt castle (we didn't have time for both, really), Hub and I set off, removing our shoes at the door at the insistence of a small Japanese guide, placing them in plastic bags, and walking sock-footed up very narrow flights of stairs with no handrail made of 400 year old wood. Nerve-wracking? To say the least, yes! Climbing consisted of watching first for Japanese tourists who insisted upon coming down the stairs regardless of who might be coming up or of the fact that only one person could go at a time, shifting to the side to allow others to pass while gripping (anything--the walls if you could reach them, the ceiling, or the Hub!) with fingernails dug in as deeply as possible, and attempting to not slide on the well-worn wood which I imagine the guards likely braved with something more than socks. Still, climbing to the top to look out arrow-slits built four centuries ago to see the fortress grounds made impregnable by the high walls, slick with no handholds, and the moat. It was said even ninjas would not attempt to raid or to kill anyone staying within the castle, and patrons of the grounds could close the gates and live, comfortably, for weeks at a time via deep wells that led to fresh water supplies and tunnels to the neighboring farms for food.
This year, 2007, celebrates the 400th anniversary of Kumamoto Castle, so while we were there, we stopped a passing "samurai" warrior to snap a quick shot before loading back into the bus, stopping briefly at an old Samurai home, and then on to the house where we gladly rested our tired legs after climbing so many stairs!
