Happily celebrating 4 years un(t)raveling!

Four years ago, in November 2013, we started this blog and wrote its About un(t)raveling page, as an intent to explain the reasons why we decided to leave Barcelona behind and hit the road on the TRANSITion!, our (first) home-made camper-van. We were mostly done with working Monday-to-Friday jobs to afford living in a big city, paying high rents, living in a manner that we considered less and less sustainable for us - where "us" means as "individuals", "a couple", "human kind" and even "the planet".

drone view of the "Apero-trapero" giveaway party before leaving!

We used to spend our weekends and holidays outside hiking or climbing and thought it would be nice to do that on weekdays, too. At some point, living in a city was making little or no sense at all (for us). The down-sizing had started a year before, moving into 28 square meters (which is already quite a luxury, let's be honest) and selling/giving away most of our stuff. We also progressively switched to new job options less and less location-dependent, reduced our expenses and general need for money (still a long way to go!), so we would get more free time to do "our" stuff while saving for later whenever possible.

- From that point (November 2013), we've been travelling in our van through Spain, France, Belgium, The Netherlands, Germany and Italy for 15 months. We worked our freelance and distance-jobs from the road (mainly technical translation and project management), wwoofed and helpxed along the way, and visited some friends and family. We wanted to see places and understand how people lived there, in order to - hopefully - get some inspiration. Aaand...

sunny freezy breakfast time before climbing in Mallos de Riglos, Spain.

it was also an excellent excuse to go and climb around! Most of the adventure is documented in this blog, including (read or scroll down the about un(t)raveling section) a comprehensive summary of our living expenses during that time; among other reasons because we got tired to hear: "yeah, living the dream is easy when you're rich", all the time back then, while (it was our decision, of course!) sharing a 5 square-meters living-space on wheels, cooking on a small camping-gaz stove 7 days a week and showering outside with a 1-gallon bucket of warm-ish water during the winter months. So, in the end, no: it's not for rich people as long as you're willing to live a simple life, to work an odd average half-time schedule, to chase free wi-fi and power sockets around, and to resist going to a hostel or café every time you feel cold, wet or your hair is getting unacceptably greasy...

- After 15 months on the road (and a first anniversary), we stopped in the Ariège. It was February 2015 when we found that small and sunny apartment with garden for rent (for 350 euros a month). Our plan was to live there for a year or so – maybe more, maybe less – in order to explore the area and see if it was a place where we'd like to stay longer. We also wanted to see if we could hunt local jobs, make friends and generally find a place we could call home. In a word: building a sustainable and coherent life there. Un(t)raveling places with the TRANSITion! had given us insights and criteria to help us pick an ideal location. So, being both rational and romantic, here's what we found out to make the decision:

1- the Ariège is 1 hour south of Toulouse, in case we need to look for a major scientific or university research pole for work. It's 1,5 hour from most of Futuna's family. In the opposite direction, Barcelona  – with many friends of ours and Wallis' mother – is about 3 hours by car. In case driving is not an option, there's a straight train line linking Toulouse and Barcelona just cruising through the valley and across the Pyrenees, as well as several car-sharing rides every week both South- and Northbound. Quite remote, yet totally connected, isn't it?

the Ariège in spring: "Oh, look! the Pyrenees are white!"

2- the valley is on the North side of the Pyrenees: it receives a lot of rainwater (average 700-1000 mm/year), snow every winter and it's a very green area. Even with the worst predictions for climate change over the next 30 years, there will still be water here! The Mediterranean influence makes the winters milder and the overall amount of sun throughout the year lovely, without raising concerns about the area becoming a desert (unlike most of Languedoc-Roussillon or Spain). The forest coverage is massive: critical resource and moisture magnet.

3- it's a rural area with mostly extensive agriculture and cattle-breeding, with a lot of small, family-run farms: local markets, local food, local currency, resilient communities. While being wild and preserved, the Ariège is moderately touristic: there's plenty of nature to explore hiking or cycling and more climbing in a 40 km radius than we could possibly climb in a lifetime. The sector of “green” (a.k.a “active”) tourism provides opportunities to work (especially speaking foreign languages) and a touristic accommodation business is another long-term option we can consider. Since 2009, about 40% of the province's surface has been declared a Natural Park and is protected as such.

4- last but not least, living is generally cheap and the price of real estate in particular is surprisingly low when compared to other places in France and to Catalunya. Of course, some would reasonably say there's nothing worth high prices, just this big green shithole. But for us, that's pretty much what we're looking for... In the end, if there's a place where we may afford to buy an old ruin and renovate it as our home, it's here and nowhere else!

So, yes: taking into account all the critical factors we had identified, it looked like a highly strategic decision and we really felt like giving it a try! Together with the pleasure to open the windows everyday to see this green, raw and gorgeous place on earth, it was a perfect match!

straight from the garden: 'bull's heart', cherry and 'tiny pear' tomatoes, beetroot, pepper, purple onion and squash.

We did this, and we saw it was good! We first changed the big TRANSITion! camper-van for the 2c15: a tiny, crappy old car, so as to move less and cheaper. We then indulged into a routine of gardening, hiking, climbing, everydaylife-ing and such: Ariège-ing for a year and a half, growing local roots and connections, meeting local initiatives, exploring the villages around in search for an old barn to renovate, discovering local crags and making a nice happy bunch of climbing expat friends. At some point, upon finishing a long-term partnership for remote project management, we felt like doing a reset. We knew we liked it in the Ariège but needed fresh air and healing after tough times (health issues, chronic pain, loss and grieving). We decided to go and un(t)ravel again for a while.

somewhere in Siberia east of Baikal lake, on the mythical Россия train.

So, we down-sized again, packed stuff again, left the appartment again and in July 2016 we left on foot and public transportation, with only two (huge) backpacks and the goal to make it to the end of the world, whatever that meant... Long story made short, we bus-ed and train-ed to Berlin, Varsaw and Riga. Then hopped on a third-class hard-seater Transsiberian train in Moscow and eventually got to Vladivostok, 9.400 km further East. Took a ferryboat to South Korea, then another ferryboat to Japan and kept looking for the end of the world over there... until we found it (check it here)! This is a very nice series on this blog, a beautiful adventure and an amazing 6 months of our lives, starting here.

We came back to France early 2017, only to work seasonal jobs here and there, before returning to our beloved Ariège, dedicated fulltime to look for a place to settle and unpack; which we pretty much found, as you can see in this latest section called home(t)raveling, starting on the very last days of June 2017 and taking us full throttle to this fourth anniversary: November 1st, 2017. Four years ago, we left Barcelona searching for something else, somewhere else. Four years and many many kilometres later, here we are! Interestingly not so far away from where it all started... Happy to be living all this together, enjoying, celebrating everyday and celebrating even more some special days like today. Also learning and growing as a team, day after day after day. And we're very happy we can share all that with you - as much as we manage to keep up with the blog...

the keys to home(t)raveling ; our backyard view from the window for a few years now ; first necessity item: the swing.

everyday is a journey and the journey itself is home!

For many more years of un(t)raveling,

Peace, love and warm hugs to you all!

E. & A. (a.k.a. Wallis and Futuna)

until the end of the South (5 of 8)

Dharma bumming to Nagasaki

the Obama Grand Palace Hotel, another one we didn't stay at...

previously on un(t)raveling:
After spending a few lovely days right in the mouth of hell in Unzen - by a pond high in the mountains, deep in the woods - we decided it was time to go and spend some time... right in the mouth of hell, but down by the sea. And early enough one morning, we hiked and hitch-hiked our way to the nice little town of Obama-on-the-beach. Famous in all Japan – or so do the locals proudly say – for having the name (and a bunch of statues) of a very fresly ex- POTUS, and the longest foot spa in the world! 114 meters, or something like that.

Now, why do so many places on earth need to have the ---est something in the world? Often thanks to a very bizarre or far-fetched calculation (the longest cave in the world if you sum up all the secondary galeries; the biggest reclined non-painted wooden Buddha in the world, and so on...) Do you actually make money out of it? Does it work? How much and how well? Anyway, there we were and it was very enjoyable. Un(t)raveling some seemingly random, un-trendy locations is a statement and a fantastic way to re-learn to receive, get surprised and be amazed every minute... Look at that if you have a doubt:

welcome to "Obama hell": a very neat little town by the sea and: the longest footspa in the region of the galaxy!

The place indeed had many a hot spring, ponds and tubs boiling everywhere, clouds of sulfuric vapour on top of every house and a characteristic smell on the streets. It was very cool and the first thing we noticed while walking around town was the – actually – surprisingly long foot spa. While Futuna was taking a picture not too far away, a middle-aged man found the courage to engage conversation with footspa-ing Wallis. With her backpack and shoes off, she was enjoying at the same time and in a blissful synesthesia: the sea in front of her, the hot water on her feet and the lovely mid-morning sun across her back and shoulder. He tried a very moderate and classic introduction, the Japanese equivalent of "yo, what's up bi---?" but with a tourist-tailored fashion: “Wheru aru you furomu? Is itu youru firsu timu in Japan?", followed by a no less classic: "Really? How do you like itu so faru?” and more stuff like that.

sulfurous steamed-cooked food: an Obama special to have on the street, any hour of the day: get a basket, pick a slot and get ready!

The smart move came right after that - wait for itu: “Isu very cute you turavelling together with youru fatheru”*, looking and waving at me from there... By the time Wallis answered I was the husband, he had already bought some hot spring boiled eggs for everyone and was trying to hide his disappointment. “Husubandu? Ooooooooooh!" (So gurossu! Disugusutingu gaijins!” he must have thought then...) Ha ha! The eggs were just delicious and after this well-deserved rest and snack, we thanked him a lot, took our bags and left. While we had some clothes washed at a laundromat, we walked around town, then ate some onigiri, packed everything clean and dry and left Obama northbound, headed to Nagasaki, hiking and trying our luck on road 57 with our thumbs up.

214 km to Nagasaki on highway 57 and a big, heavy backpack with legs...

Our plan was to reach Nagasaki in 2-3 days, depending on the rides we'd get and with supplies to camp anywhere along the road. We were starting to see Kyushu was much more a relaxed area than the Kansai and main island: nobody seemed to look at us too much, nobody seemed to care to much about us hitch-hiking, camping out there or just wandering around. People would talk to us more easily and wouldn't stare at us like we were crazy when hearing we just wanted to explore rural Japan by foot and with a tent, in the purest Dharma bums' style! The road 57 was scenic and touristic, following the dramatic coast along the  Tachibana bay: (many cars passing by + many people curious to see some hitch-hiking gaijins) x a laid-back atmosphere = many lifts in a single day! The most remarkable one was probably the singer and lead musician of a folk-rock-fusion band. Originally from Okinawa, he played the Sanshin (三線, littéralement « trois cordes ») and was on his way to a gig in Isahaya. The lift wasn't long, although he offered to take us to the show the same night. We doubted, considered the invitation, lured by the good ol' yes attitude, but finally declined because it was a bit too much out of our route. We thought we'd be able to hear the Ni-ni's on youtube, soundcloud or somewhere else over the wwweb - but so far, we ain't been able to.

the big, heavy backpack with legs 100+ kms later: still wandering along highway 57.

So PLEASE: if anybody reading this blog knows this Okinawa band playing around Kyushu, do send us some link to their music or, at least, say hello from us to the über-kind and über-kool Sanshin player! At some point early evening, we stopped hitch-hiking and started to walk in search of a decent and quiet place to disappear, cook dinner spend the night... It took us quite a while to get off the urbanized world and into what we called carrot-land: a relatively small (from a satellite's perspective) but homogenously fluffy and monochromatically green area, that looked endless from our eyes' height... Daucus carota fields forever! It was a great, beautiful moment, the light was warm, the sea was blue, the air was soft (our backpacks were heavy, our bodies, sweaty, our clothes, sticky...). Like a dream, but coming at a price: after about an hour and a half and a couple of failed attempts to set camp in two crappy places, we made it to a little terrace overlooking the sea and the sea of carrots. There was a small gazebo with a wooden deck, which seemed to be just waiting for us. Nobody around. No sign of human activity anywhere near. We cooked dinner with the sunset over the hills. The deck was warm under the mattresses, a soft breeze was moving the weeds in front of us. We slept a gorgeous night and woke up before dawn to pack and walk back down to the road: by 06:30, we were hitch-hiking.

green is the colour of a carrot field ; blue is the colour of a backpack cover ; gold is the colour of a sunset over Nagasaki ; and black is the...

Many cars passed us without stopping during the first hour. We needed a coffee and felt a bit lazy to walk any of the 40 km left to Nagasaki. Also, the road was narrow, the verge not so comfortable and the many trees made it kind of dark. Not really a good place to walk and hitch-hike by dawn! We eventually stopped at a parking area, left our backpacks by some piles of wood neatly stacked and started to wave our thumbs with as much enthousiasm as we possibly could, only putting 'em down when a big truck or bus approached. And suddenly, after maybe 15 minutes there, a voice shouted at us: "Why notu thumbu foru me? Basu not good enough?". One of those big "luxury" coaches had stopped past us and the driver, smiling and laughing, was wondering why we wouldn't wave our thumbs at him. He was driving to his service but was 'empty' at that moment.

in case of emergency, read the name on the buoy!

He offered to give us a luxury lift to the port of Nagasaki, right where we wanted to get. Gave us some fresh water and conversation. Pretty sure he would have offered coffee, had he had any... Incredibly nice and friendly, not even concerned we might dirty his coach with our hiking boots and suspiciously hippie outfits. About one hour later, we were there (see the picture, read the buoy!) with our favourite Lawson's breakfast: sitting on the dock of the bay (ha ha ha! you didn't really expect it to be that straightforward, did you?). We both very much wanted to come to Nagasaki and were really happy that morning, looking at a massive cruise-liner approaching, almost unrealistically big, making its way to the city center, until the point we really believed the dock wasn't stopping her... Among the very many Chinese cruisers who got down to land, a big group would soon meet "our" driver, get on "our" luxury coach and go visit some stuff somewhere. As for us, the day was very young and had already treated us with more than we usually expect for any set of 24 consecutive hours: we stayed there for a while, looking at the mist over the hills, feeling the breeze and the early sun, recognizing in this mountainous coastal little town another San Fransisco and another Vladivostok, gathering strenght and loading energy to go explore it... But this, and the rest, is gonna have to wait a little bit...

That's all folks!
See you soon
xx,

W. & F.

_____________________________

* Wallis' father! Seriously... apparently, this was a tragic and very embarrassing misunderstanding, that was, once again, caused by my crazy and very inappropriate grey beard . If you willingly turn yourself into a silverback samana/monk/bum, how can you expect people to treat you like a healthy young man?

until the end of the South (4 of 8)

unZen and the art of natural hot spring-ing!

This episode deserves to be a special one. Not only because we just landed on the Nagaski prefecture, entering from Kumamoto straight to the heart of Unzen's moutains covered in dark, dense forest. And not only because Unzen is famous all over Japan for its Hell* and the tradition of Onsen - the very word probably coming from the village's name. It is also because this episode is the 150th of our blog!!

welcome to "Unzen hell": a chaos of sand, rock and smokey puddles of green and grey, with the exact smell of a rotten egg's fart...

Yes, 150 posts in almost exactly 3 years, that means a post every 7,5 days - roughly one per week, a mean we are very very very proud of! We recently celebrated our 3rd anniversary on an unknown island, now comes our 150th post: it's been a pleasure to share this everyday journey with you all so, well, thanks a lot for following us and un(t)raveling with us! And hopefully, there'll be many many more stories to be told in these columns... For now, let's un(t)ravel Unzen together:

puddles of boiling clay with dozens of "Don't step" signs and "Don't trespass" boards

We came by bus and got there at night, not really knowing where and how to find a decent place to sleep. As we tend to do in such situations, we decided to walk off the village, get far enough in "the woods" to get lost and pitch our tent there for the first night (and look for any better option for the next days). We were lucky enough that there were "woods" to be found everywhere around, right beyond the last house in any direction. And as for us, anytime over 10 minutes into the wilderness is a decent, fair definition of "far enough" at night. Especially in this hell of a place, which might very well have been full of deadly traps, deadly dragons, deadly tar sands, deadly gas leaks and other kinds of deadly things, hidden under every stone and behind every tree. After walking a few minutes along a steep trail in a dense and dark forest, we found an abandoned car park, partially covered with weeds and with a tent at one corner. We picked the corner in the other diagonal and set for dinner and sleep. It was already late then, but we woke up early anyway, packed and hiked back to the village for a hot drink and some fresh food. We were lucky to be in the South of the country, as the autumn was slowly turning into winter and the temperatures were dropping down fast. Looking for the sun during the day, enjoying the luxury of hot clouds and boiling soil, trying the local hot spring boiled eggs with that unique sulfur taste, drinking a lot of coffee with milk and tea: everything was fine as long as it warmed the body just a little bit more and a little bit longer! But there was more:

urged by the locals to take a "classic" souvenir pic: "You here, good. You smile."

the real deal, here in Unzen, were the natural hot spring baths, aka onsen. If this village gave its name to the very concept of having natural hot spring baths, they had to know a lot about that! Well, at least and with no doubt, the area's defect settings included an intense geothermal activity, with natural hot water coming from deep underground, spitting and squirting around about everywhere... Would have be difficult for them to justify that they actually did nothing more with it than hard-boiling eggs and dead-boiling christians. Sorry, I admit this is not funny and promise to stop making jokes about that. It actually happened between 1627 and 1632, and you can find some boards explaining about this tragedy and a small stone memorial to the Christians' martyrdom somewhere in the middle of the "Hell" mainsite, just about one hundred meters from the main hotels. The increasing influence of the Portuguese christians, converting Japanese people in Kyushu while allegedly trading goods, progressively raised concerns until the Shogun decided to ban the religion and to forbid all Westerners to come and trade in the country. During over 2 centuries, the only contact between Japan and 'the rest of the world' were the Dutch traders, as they accepted, upon landing on Japanese soil, to step on a cross and reject the christian faith. Ah, the Dutch pragmatism in action! They were consequently allowed to settle on a tiny artificial island built in Nagasaki's harbour and that's another story we'll tell you about later on... ;)

But as for today, let's talk about unZen and the art of natural hot spring-ing:

smile to the old man, pay 100 yens, go to the "men" (or "women") section, take your clothes off, pick a locker and... just enjoy the heat!

Alright: the village is literally full of hotels, which come in a wide range of prices and a wider variety of styles. Basically, there are diversely expensive hotels, available in both Japanese-style and Western-style. That's it. Deal with it. With our maximum allocated 'exceptionnal' budget of 40 euros per night for the 2 of us and our supa-strict "get this price or camp" policy, all were waaay too expensive anyway and camping was the option. As we learnt, each hotel had its onsen, which was open to non-residents but again, out of our budget. It may sound like cheap, but (i) at this point of our adventure, we've spent two and a half months in Japan already and we're not even broke yet, and (ii) the cheapest option, both on the Transsiberian and around here, happened to be the most fun (how could we know?)

desert public onsen with a 1 euro fee: luxury is INDEED a very relative concept!

As far as we could find, there were two public onsens in Unzen, plus one at about a 15 minute walk outside the village, but pretty close to the spot we found to camp on the second day. All three costed 100¥ per person** for a single but non time-limited access. Our strategy was to get a nice long session in the late morning, that would keep us warm most of the afternoon and allow a cold lunch of onigiris and fruit. We then had to stay around town until it was dark, get another nice, long session of onsen in the evening, then hike to our secret campsite, have a quick noodle soup dinner and get inside the sleeping bags while our bodies were still hot from the spring water. And it actually worked wonders! An hour spent immerged in water at about 40 or 42 ºC raises your body temperature quite a bit over regular and the feeling lasts a good couple of hours - which was more than enough to hike a short 10 minutes through the woods to a lovely little pond nearby: a perfect invitation to a quiet living in harmony with nature, there was un petit je ne sais quoi de Walden to it. Passed the tiny country hotel with the mandatory beach and pedal boats on the shore - fortunately closed for the winter season, we just walked another 5 minutes in the woods to an abandoned/closed campsite whose facilities were locked and all water turned off, but with little wooden decks raised a foot above the floor and individual firepits and tables. We discovered the place on our second day in Unzen and decided to (very respectfully) use and abuse of one raised wooden deck and its firepit, for both comfort, safety and so as not to leave any trace after ourselves. We picked one spot that got the first morning sun, protected from the night wind by a couple of large firs during our 3 days around Unzen, we packed every morning but hid our stuff under a nearby tree - to hang around town with nothing but a light daypack containing our towels, a laptop for some public library internet surfing and some supplies. Just superb!

a Japanese interpretation of the Walden pond + a #13 with ideal orientation and no negative connotations = a perfect spot to camp!

We spent 3 lovely and very quiet days in Unzen, invented a smart and comfy routine to resist the increasing cold and finally decided we needed to get back down to the seaside to gain a few degrees. On the sunny morning of the fourth day, we put our bags on our backs and took the narrow little road heading West and down, thumbs up just in case and happy to discover what life had in mind for us... After about an hour walking along the road, a rusty and dusty Toyota pulled and took us onboard, driving us for a short while and dropping us to the seafront boulevard of another 'Mouth of hell', a lovely little coastal town famous for its hot springs (again) and proud of having the longest footspa in the world. How cool and worldly is that? Surprisingly enough, this little coastal town you probably never heard off (and will never again hear off) was called... Obama. Yes, Obama. Like the very fresh, latest ex-POTUS.

'Mouth of hell' like in: "everywhere around, there's vapor and this sulfurous fart smell"...

This is gonna be the next episode and our post #151!

take care and love to all,

W. & F.

___________________________

* about Unzen's "Hell": where (mostly Portuguese but not only) christians used to be boiled alive in natural hot springs back then - a tradition that was long abandoned. The chrisitans were replaced by eggs, which not only is socially and morally more acceptable, but also represents a substantial source of income for the local, as the thousands of tourists pay for them and eat them with great pleasure...

** about the yen's rate: during the 3 months we spent in Japan, the yen was ridiculously high and strong. It oscilated between 105 and 120 yens for 1 euro, which made it even tougher for Westerners to travel the country on a tight budget. Nevertheless, 1 euro for a steamin' hot bath tub and pool, free tea, shower and sauna isn't something you can really conceive when you come from Europe! Luxury is a relative, cultural concept...

Jusqu'au bout du Sud (1 de 8)

dans les transports en commun!

quais de gare, correspondances, terminus et trains à tête d'insecte-cyber!

Après presqu'un mois et demi passé, comme dans un rêve, au bord de la baie de Kumihama chez Atsushi-san et sa famille - et à peine remis des émotions de la névrite vestibulaire foudroyante de Futuna - on a finalement quitté le Kansai, non sans avoir fait une petite escapade le long de la péninsule de Kyotango et jusqu'à Amanohashidate (pour les curieux, ça se passe ici!). À grand renfort de trains et bus locaux, on a ensuite rejoint - juste à temps et un peu incrédules - une Kyoto pleine à craquer de touristes de tous poils et de toutes nationalités, venus en masse pour voir défiler l'extraordinaire et célébrissime Jidai Matsuri. Notre intention était de passer deux ou trois jours en ville, histoire de voir ou revoir quelques-uns de ses plus de mille temples, de se poser pour écrire des cartes postales et un ou deux articles de ce blog dont le retard s'aggravait. Hélàs, toutes les pensions, guesthouses, auberges et petits hôtels dans notre budget affichaient complet, comme les hôtes Helpx et Couchsurfing qu'on avait contactés en catastrophe 4 ou 5 jours à l'avance. Ce festival, l'un des plus courus de tout le Japon, attire des dizaines de milliers de touristes chaque année et la ville en est absolument saturée. Au-delà des difficultés pour trouver un hébergement, toutes gammes confondues, les transports publics sont blindés et la gare centrale ressemble à la Rambla ou à la rue Saint-Rome un samedi de fin de soldes! On a ainsi passé près de 40 minutes à faire le pied-de-grue, vers 10 heures du matin en descendant du train, pour finalement trouver, non sans s'attirer les regards haineux de familles moins opiniâtres ou moins organisées, un casier de consigne pour nos gros sacs...

télé à la carte et boisson énergétique TRÈS puissante: bienvenue au Love Hotel!

Mais avant de continuer - et puisqu'on parle ici de voyage vers l'inconnu - revenons une douzaine d'heures en arrière. La veille, après cette escapade romantique et sauvage tout autour de la péninsule de Kyotango, il nous avait fallu trouver un endroit où dormir. La nuit était tombée très vite et les abords de Fukuchiyama, ville moyenne où nous avait laissé le dernier train en provenance d'Amanohashidate, ne se prêtaient guère au camping sauvage. En tout cas, on n'avait eu ni le temps ni l'énergie de chercher un spot discret, convenable et facile d'accès. On se sentait fatigués et la perspective de tout déballer, monter le camp et cuisiner dans le noir ne nous enchantait pas. Il y avait une seule alternative et on n'a pas beaucoup douté avant de mettre le cap dessus: un Love Hotel repéré quelques jours auparavant sur Google, juste au cas où. On vous en a déjà parlé (on en a déjà usé et abusé, aussi) en Corée du Sud: si l'on fait abstraction du cadre kitsch-sordide - ou si au contraire on adore ça! - le Love Hotel est une option épatante d'hébergement bon marché et sans souci: plein de "services" inclus et plein d'autres "à la carte" si on veut ; des chambres au décor original ; une bouilloire, un micro-ondes et des trucs utiles en tout genre dans la chambre ; et personne pour vous emm... En bref, c'est le pied! Dans celui-ci, on a pu évidemment se doucher et préparer notre dîner, regarder n'importe quoi sur la télé grand écran, se faire des thés et des cafés instantanés au lait en poudre presque toute la nuit, ou mettre à sécher quelques fringues lavées sur place à la main. Les kleenex et les prophylactiques sont inclus. On a préféré ne toucher ni aux uns (question d'hygiène) ni aux autres (qualité douteuse), mais ils étaient on the house, tout comme les sachets de thé et les dosettes de café. On aurait aussi pu utiliser la borne d'arcade installée entre le porte-manteau et le micro-ondes ou faire du shopping triple-X sans quitter la chambre. On a choisi de passer notre tour, pour ne pas charger nos sacs de plus de souvenirs érot exotiques.

room service: borne d'arcade, kleenex, condoms, console d'ambiance lumière, clim, t.v., hi-fi et vending-machine TRÈS spécialisée (zoomez!).

Le lendemain, on a filé de bonne heure pour Kyoto et son bouillonnant bain de foule, laissant derrière nous le lit défait et le mini-bar intact. La journée est passée très vite entre le festival, un peu de shopping (cartes postales, magnets et autres souvenirs plats et légers), de lèche-vitrine et l'achat d'une tente digne de ce nom, la pluie étant l'une des marques de fabrique un(t)raveling et l'île-où-il-pleut-35-jours-par-mois*, l'une de nos destinations des semaines à venir. Le soir même, non sans avoir âprement bataillé et finalement dû opter pour de la classe "supérieure" au lieu de l'économique, on s'est installés à bord d'un "luxueux" bus de nuit à destination de Fukuoka, tout au nord de l'île de Kyushu, la plus au sud de ce pays-archipel.

l'indispensable roadbook de www.hyperdia.com pour voyager au Japon!

La nuit a été plutôt longue et presque blanche : halte à Osaka (lumière, montée-descente de passagers, raffut, coups de coude, gros sacs...) ; halte à Okayama (lumière, montée-descente de passagers, raffut, coups de coude, gros sacs...) ; halte à Hiroshima (lumière, montée-descente de passagers, raffut, coups de coude, gros sacs...), pause sur une aire d'autoroute au pied de l'imposant pont de Shimonoseki (lumière, tout le monde descend, toilettes et café) ; et finalement, arrivée à Fukuoka, gare centrale Hakata (terminus, tout le monde descend!) au petit matin. Pas très frais, on a pris un petit déjeuner frugal au premier Seven-Eleven qu'on a trouvé au hasard des couloirs de la gare: le classique café au lait à 150 yens et des briochettes un peu synthétiques, genre mousse isolante sucrée et pas dégueu (c'est encore le plus préoccupant) trempées dans le café. Passons... Puis on s'est mis en devoir de trier nos affaires afin d'en laisser un maximum dans un casier de consigne de la gare, avant de débuter notre grand marathon de trains jusqu'à Kagoshima, à l'extrême sud de Kuyshu. Notre idée était de descendre à Kagoshima d'une traite, puis de remonter petit à petit en explorant toute l'île à notre rythme. Du coup, on voulait voyager "léger", c'est à dire sans le trolley à provisions et avec un seul sac à dos par personne, mais avec le matériel de camping pour pouvoir être autonomes : randonner, camper, faire du stop, aller passer quelques jours sur l'île secrète du bout du monde et boucler la boucle ici, à Fukuoka, en y retrouvant Shimon-chan, ainsi que Nao-san et ses amis. On a vérifié que la durée maximale des casiers de consigne était de 3 jours, renouvelables autant de fois qu'on voulait. Mais ça ne nous avançait guère de revenir tous les 3 jours pour remettre des pièces dans une consigne automatique. On a aussi vérifé que passés les 3 jours, les affaires étaient retirées du casier et gardées dans un autre local pendant 1 mois, délai au-delà duquel elles étaient jetées. Si on revenait avant un mois - on s'est dit - on pourrait payer l'amende de retard (juste la somme des frais journaliers, en fait, sans majoration) et tout récupérer. Bien vu, non?**

"dans les transports en commun" chante Thomas F., "les hommes ont le pied marin" - ou la nausée, "les filles sont nerveuses" - ou endormies.

On a donc décidé de jouer cette carte et pour assurer le truc, on a laissé sur notre tas d'affaires bien tassé dans le casier une jolie note moitié en anglais, moitié en japonais, fort aimable et civilisée, qui disait quelque chose comme : "On revient vers le 25/11/2016, merci de garder nos affaires jusque là, on paiera les frais et on vous remercie d'avance! Merci, merci, merci!". On a estimé que ça ferait l'affaire et on est partis sans se retourner. De toutes façons, c'était ça ou on ratait le premier d'une longue série de trains! Parce qu'en effet, pour traverser toute l'île de Kyushu du nord au sud, sans prendre un Shinkansen ou un super bullet Nozomi, il faut se lever de bonne heure et avoir du temps devant soi. Si on veut en plus éviter les Limited Express, il faut aussi développer des trésors de patience et pouvoir s'abandonner à la contemplation - béate - du paysage. Et si l'on choisit, enfin, de privilégier les petits tortillards des compagnies privées locales, il faut aussi savoir lire et déchiffrer les kanjis comme un enfant de 5 ans environ - ce que Wallis, heureusement, faisait avec style et enthousiasme! Après environ deux heures sur la JR (Japan Railway), on est entrés sur les terres de l'Orange Railway, dont c'était justement l'anniversaire ce jour-là. On avait prévu de voyager le lendemain, on aurait pu voyager la veille, mais non. On était là le jour J et pour fêter ça, Orange était gratuit! Après nous avoir appris la bonne nouvelle et demandé d'où on venait, des bénévoles souriantes aux gilets chamarrés nous ont poussé en voiture en criant "Ooooh! Furan-go, Supain-go! Ooooh! Lucky lucky! Furan-go, Supain-go! Very lucky!"

l'Orient-Express de Kyushu: le célèbre Orange Railway ; le Futuna un peu à bout de train ; le personnel souriant et la (fameuse?) cloche!

Et c'est vrai qu'on en avait drôlement, de la chance: débarqués pour ainsi dire de notre Furance et de notre Esupagne natales, de pouvoir voyager gratuit tout le long de l'Orange Railway jusqu'à Kagoshima! Alors bien sûr, c'était gratuit, mais ça n'allait pas plus vite pour autant. Magnifique paysage par la fenêtre: une côte déchirée, des îles sur l'horizon, des rizières partout alentour, des volcans au loin et même quelques palmiers dans la lumière du soir. On a débarqué à la nuit tombée, au sud du Sud, un peu fatigués et la tête vague. On n'était pas très frais à vrai dire, mais très agréablement surpris par la chaleur moite et l'ambiance irréelle de la gare centrale et de ses environs immédiats: un centre commercial énorme envahi de hordes de... comment dire? Bon, bin on va vous montrer, ça sera plus simple:

Vite! Récupérez vos sacs avant que la consigne ne se transforme en citrouille!

de hordes de jeunes gens et jeunes filles déguisés en Blanche-neige, en zombies, en personnages anime ou en trucs difficilement reconnaissables pour des gaijins pas vraiment branchés cosplay (コスプレ, kosupurei) ni Comic-Con. Genre comme si c'était Carnaval ou Halloween, vous voyez? En fait, c'était très vraisemblabement Halloween, sauf que nous on n'avait pas vraiment conscience des dates et que ce type de choses, c'est toujours mieux quand ça vous tombe dessus par surprise. Pas de stress, pas de pression pour le costume, pas de risque d'être déguisé pareil que tout le monde, pas de problème pour ranger clefs et portefeuille dans un collant en latex argenté ou un pelage fuschia soyeux sans poche intérieure. De toutes façons, on était déjà doublement déguisés: une fois parce qu'on était gaijins dans une zone du Japon où ils n'y en a pas tant que ça, et deux fois parce que notre look de backpackers, outfit de brousse froissé et sac à dos de 20+ kilos, devait évoquer soit des super-héros, soit des sortes de survivants d'une dystopie post-apocalyptique à la MadMax... Bref, dans le cours de la même (très longue) journée-marathon (d'accord, il y a eu une nuit en autocar au milieu, mais ça ne compte pas vraiment), on est sortis d'un Love Hotel hypra-kitsch, on s'est plongés dans un défilé historique en costumes, on a écumé d'un bout à l'autre la ligne de chemin de fer de Kyushu et on est descendus du train pour se retrouver au milieu d'une fête d'Halloween assez spectaculaire. Sensation un peu irréelle d'être des extra-terrestres ou, au contraire, de s'être téléportés sur une autre planète... Incrédules, on a un peu traîné dans les allées du centre commercial, puis on est entrés dans un supermarché et comme c'était presque l'heure de la fermeture, on a fait le plein de sushi, sashimi et bento en super promo pour le dîner. On a mangé par là, sur un banc face à la grand-roue, dans la lumière des néons, en regardant passer cet autre défilé en costumes. Et on a commencé à sentir, pour la première fois, que Kyushu était différente du reste du Japon; de Onshu, de Tokyo et du Kansai en tout cas. Malgré l'effervescence, il y avait quelque chose d'informel, de détendu, de tranquille dans l'atmosphère, qu'on n'avait pas encore ressenti dans ce pays et sans doute pas non plus de façon aussi palpable depuis le début de ce non-voyage jusqu'au bout du monde et au-delà. "On dirait le Sud", a fredonné Futuna, tout en se sentant un peu ridicule. On s'est dit que notre bout du monde à nous, il n'était peut-être plus très loin; que peut-être on touchait au but. On s'est dit que c'était peut-être la fatigue tout simplement. Mais ça non plus, ça n'était pas pour nous déplaire...

Kagoshima by night, son centre commercial, sa grande roue et... le réceptionniste (noctambule et très stylé) de notre guesthouse!

En arrivant à l'auberge que Wallis avait repérée sur http://www.hatinosu.net***, le premier individu avec lequel on a eu une interaction, ça a été lui là, au-dessus, sur la photo de droite (effectivement, c'est un Ambystomatidae, un axolotl mexicain pour être précis). On s'est regardés en silence, façon Ishin-denshin et on s'est dit que décidément, Kyushu promettait d'être une expérience unique... Vingt minutes après, on était douchés et on dormait à poings fermés.

à bientôt pour la suite,
joyeux non-Halloween
et plein de bises!
W. & F.

___________________________



* À propos de l'île mystérieuse, secrête et oò il pleut 35 jours par mois: c'est pas qu'on fait monter le suspence exprès depuis un moment, c'est pas qu'on veut créer le buzz, c'est juste qu'on a super envie d'aller la découvrir et qu'on ne sait pas du tout à quoi s'attendre. Ce sera une surprise pour nous autant que pour vous et on ne peut donc en parler que de façon très vague pour l'instant... Un peu de patience!


** Au prix d'un délit d'initiés que seul les voyages dans le temps autorisent: on peut d'ores et déjà vous annoncer que Non! ce n'était pas si bien joué que ça et que l'histoire ne s'arrête pas là. Mais, chut! pour l'instant on joue le jeu et on fait comme si de rien n'était... Suivez l'aventure et à la fin, vous saurez tout!

*** hatinosou.net est une page extraordinaire qui recense une flopée de campings, hébergements, sites de bivouac autorisé, aires de camping sauvage et auberges très bon marché. Elle est malheureusement uniquement en japonais et assez peu intuitive (c'est un euphémisme!), mais nous a permis d'arriver là où la main de l'homme blanc n'avait encore jamais mis le pied et nous a valu quelques sueurs froides de première catégorie... À suivre!