Kyushu Part 2 – Mud, Bombs and Mountains

Onsen Hoyoland, now that was fun, if a little stinky. Right after we'd investigated the hells, we both decided something a little more worthwhile was perhaps in order, thus it was that we made our way further up and into the hills for a naked frolic in Beppu's geothermal mud. Upon getting off the bus we were greeted by a large hotel building that one could supposedly stay at if one wished, but given the almost comical state of disrepair and neglect on display in the entrance lobby (peeling paint, 70s furnishings, gloomy lighting), one probably wouldn't want to.

Anyhow, the hotel wasn't what we'd come to see, but rather the complex awaiting us at the end of lengthy stroll down a wooden walkway, ending in the entrance to the male/female changing rooms. On the other side of these was a number of outdoor and indoor onsens linked by pathways and bridges, all of filled with almost completely white sulphurous water. Once in, surrounding the rocks at the bottom was a kind of gluey, gelatinous mud that sucked at your feet, the aim being to rub it liberally over yourself before washing it all off. Once again, very good for the skin apparently, but left me and my clothes stinking of eggs for days.

Pretty much satisfied with what Beppu had had to offer, it was off on a bus again to Nagasaki. Famous, of course, for being the second city in history to have been hit by an atomic bomb at the end of WWII, it's still well known for being a major shipping port, as well as one of Japan's most cosmopolitan cities.

The A-Bomb memorials and museum were much as you'd expect, similar to Hiroshima but on a slightly smaller scale, though the museum really is good – particularly the very even-handed history exhibits that detailed the background behind Japan's Pacific War. As I felt when I saw Hiroshima, again it's remarkable to see Nagasaki as it is now, a bustling, important, major city when only 60 years ago so much of it was reduced to dust.

The following day saw me and Gemma tackling the mountains of Unzen in order to get a good look at a still active volcano. After a somewhat misty start (resulting in a completely blind cablecar journey halfway up), it soon brightened up just in time for us to reach the summit after a pretty intense (for me at least) 1hr+ climb. The views were grand though, just like floating in the clouds. Coming down we went on foot all the way – not incredibly arduous but not easy, and the experience did leave with howling calves and painful sunburn for most of the next few days.

A quick word about dinner – once back at the hotel, I ended up spending five minutes chatting in foyer with a Mr Kawabata, a trucker from Fukuoka, who seemed so grateful for our chat that he promptly invited me and Gemma to for dinner with him at 'the best Japanese restaurant' in Nagasaki – a dubious claim, to be sure, perhaps he just found it to be the most tolerant. In any event, it was busy, cramped, and freezing cold, owing to the operators being a little too enthusiastic with their air conditioning. Kawabata promptly ordered plates of incredibly random stuff, most of which Gemma and I had never seen before, and some of which we hopefully never will again. Among the sundry delights were some unspeakably inedible green snails that I refused to go anywhere near, and a platter of whale meat that included tongue, bacon, blubber and whatever the whale equivalent of 'breast' might be. The whale was the tastiest thing on offer and before anyone says anything, well, you have to at least try it once, don't you? Especially if someone else insists on paying, as was inevitably the case here, despite our protests. All we had to do in return was patiently listen to Kawabata's barrage of incomprehensible Japanese and smile politely. We made our excuses for the night the moment we got outside.