Hoshinoya Kyoto in review


30th December 2010


Thanks to an invitation from the Hoshinoya group, I was able to squeeze in one more ryokan visit before the end of the year.

Its newest property, Hoshinoya Kyoto, is tucked into the mountains of Arashiyama, an area once favoured by the city's nobles. Today, it is a popular tourist spot, especially during the sakura and autumn foliage seasons.

But what made me say yes to the invitation was the boat. Guests are ferried to the ryokan in a boat that goes up the scenic Hozugawa river. It's not quite the Three Gorges but it does have the advantage of not being dammed up.





The Hoshinoya Kyoto boat landing. Up a flight of stairs nearby is a waiting room that has magazines, coffee, a toilet with the world's smallest sink and is, above all, warm. In winter - and spring, come to think of it - this is important.





The boat pulling up to the ryokan's pier. You can go outside to take photos; presumably, fishing you out of the river if you fall in is all part of the service.

The ride's a leisurely one, giving you the time you need to photograph the sociable ducks, the grave egrets and the tourists floating by in other boats.






November is high season for the ryokan. This shot of the entrance from Hoshinoya shows you why. The inn was fully booked through the momiji season, so I didn't get to see this. Oh well.






On the right, the library and reception. In warmer weather, guests gather by the pond, which has a little stage for musical performances. Beyond the library are the guest cottages.






Accommodation ranges from a single room to a maisonette and every permutation in between. The furnishings also vary widely. The Tani Yukaza room, for instance, is the only one with sunken leg space in its sitting area.





Another room had a tiger - for the Year of the Tiger - mask in the tokonoma alcove: a nice change from the usual hanging scroll.






The wallpaper also changes depending on the bedroom. This kind of paper is hand-printed using wooden blocks, some of them hundreds of years old. I was told that there are only two workshops left in Kyoto still making paper in this way.


But my vote for the Best Furnishing Detail goes to...




...the tatami sofa. It's an answer to this design question: how do you get guests to sit back and relax in the kind of room where leaning against a (paper) wall may dislodge it? Chairs are the obvious answer but the traditional Japanese room is best enjoyed from the perspective of someone sitting on the floor.

So a legless sofa then, with cushions that can be folded out to take a reclining guest. But the weight of such a sofa would pulverise the tatami. Hence, the hollow back and arm rests.




Apparently, guests have asked where they can get one of their own, only to be told that the sofas were commissioned for the inn and are not commercially available. Stuff like that could almost ruin a holiday.

But the nice people at the ryokan restaurant might be able to distract you with a soba-making demonstration.










At the restaurant, you can order a set meal or just a few dishes from the menu - a departure from usual ryokan practice, which is to feed the guest until he keels over on the tatami. And yes, soba is on the menu.




As is a vinegary crab salad.




If you opt to skip dessert, there may just be a few green tea wafers left in the library.




It was the first time I'd seen green tea wafers filled with white chocolate. I wish I'd had the presence of mind to take more than one. Or was it two?

If the wafers run out, I guess you could always admire the design of the coffeecup saucers.




There's also lots to see outside. Like the details in the lamps.




Or how the stone paths leading to the guest rooms are all different. And next to the stone, a moon is growing.











On the other side of the river that flows by the ryokan, an old train passes now and then.




And don't forget to enjoy the wood when you bend to switch off the light on your way out.

Ugenta in review


27th April 2010


A high-end ryokan is theatre. Not the kind with heavy curtains and painted backdrops but tiny stages of tatami, paper lamps and pocket gardens. The woman in kimono who greets you is an actress; you will meet the rest of the cast when they serve you dinner in your room or drive you to the station when you leave.

You will have a better view than even someone sitting in the most expensive seats in the theatre. And you can touch the props - lacquerware, pottery painted or rough, the sprig of flowers on your dinner tray.

Total theatre. When it all comes together, you wonder why anyone visiting Japan would want to stay in a hotel.

Then you look at the prices and - oh, well.

So it's a hobby I can indulge in only about once a year.

This year, it's Ugenta, an inn that accepts no more than two parties a night. The ryokan can be reached by taking a train from Demachiyanagi station to the mountain village of Kibune (left) - about 30 minutes - and then a bus. If you give the Ugenta staff enough notice, they'll pick you up at the station.

But enough talking. On with the pictures!

Dinner theatre:




Zensai (appetiser). Can you see the sakura design on the paper?




Suimono course: soft-shelled turtle soup. You pour it out into the lid, adding a little ginger seasoning from the white pot, and drink. Chicken-soup comforting if you don't add the ginger, and a fire edge if you do. My favourite of the whole meal - and so good I almost got over the guilt of eating turtle.


(Forgot to take photos of the sashimi course. The sake must have been kicking in around about here.)




Yakimono: grilled Kyoto beef. The beans are issunmame.







Conger eel sushi. Not otah.




Young bamboo and shirauo (白魚) - the white, fish-like shadow.




Eat your tentacles; they're good for you. Hotaru ika, if you're interested. Also akagai, nanohana and a kind of daikon called moriguchi. This is the sunomono course, which sounds more appetising than "vinegared things".



Rice with young bamboo and a sprig of kinome.

When you hit the carbs course in kaiseki, the curtain's about to come down. I'm usually down for the count by this part of the meal because little dishes over a long stretch of time take up a surprising amount of space inside.

But the woman serving us offered to get the kitchen staff to turn the rice we didn't eat into onigiri so we could have it later if we got hungry. She returned with the riceballs wrapped and accompanied by pickles and a dish of chirimen (fish even tinier than ikan bilis) flavoured with sansho peppercorn.

This...this is service.





Dessert. It looks simple - strawberries, oranges and jelly - but, for some reason, it worked so well I ate the mint in shock.


But what about the rest of the ryokan i.e. the bits you can't eat? You can get a good idea of the room layouts from the inn's website though they aren't rooms so much as small maisonettes (maisonettette?). (If you're viewing this at work, be advised that the top page of the Ugenta site comes with a soundtrack.)


You can breathe out here. Space inside and the mountains at your window. Leave the balcony door ajar and you'll hear the stream beside the inn.




And the wood!



Furniture by George Nakashima. Beer glasses live inside this cabinet. We should all be so lucky.



Look at the right knob!




And the left!

The pictures of the other cabinet knobs are too blurry to be posted. It's never a good idea to take pictures when your hands are shaking.


If you like space, wood and mountain valleys, Ugenta may be the ryokan for you. The food may not have been the most exciting kaiseki I've encountered but it was solidly executed with a few excellent touches. Like the guilt-removing turtle soup.

And when I woke up in the middle of the night - I had the upstairs room, with the computer and calligraphy set - this was outside my window.





I put the camera on the table in front of the window then took the shot. My hands were shaking again.