I arrived late on the bullet train, and found some sort of room booking service at the train station. Not the sort of thing I normally do, but useful. That was until I found that the guy manning the booth spoke nothing in English other than "super" and "terrific". It was getting late and I was looking screwed.
Somehow I cajoled him into calling a place in my guidebook, and I had a room for the night.
After a long flight from Bangkok, the airport train into Tokyo and the $250 one way bullet train to Kyoto I was sick of transportation. I had a map in the guidebook at surely I could find my way across the river to this little guesthouse. Tragedy narrowly averted.
One thing guidebook maps suck at is scale, I got lost leaving the station and after writing myself it took me nearly an hour to even get in the vicinity of the place. I was tired, hungry, and getting irritated.
Somehow I managed to find the place against all odds, and I took my shoes off and dropped my bag at the door. Tragedy #2 narrowly averted.
The sound of some guests using English words other than "super" and "terrific" was lightening my spirits until the guesthouse owner explained it took so long for me to find the place they gave the room up. This probably took like 15 minutes for him to communicate to me, given our language barrier. I was yet again, crushed. Thankfully the guy was super nice, and called around for me.
He found me a place, and I hopped in his car for a literal video game high speed dash around Kyoto ... across the river somewhat near the train station I had originally left. Spirits uplifted by Japanese pop songs and clinging to my seatbelt, I was sure glad to find this place.
Then there was another problem. They were pretty obviously stalling at the small hotel. Finally a guy somehow conveys that there was something, but before I pay he wants me to take a look. Hell, I was in SE Asia for a month with no reservations but the first night ... I always look first. We walked up row of stairs after stairs until getting to the top floor where there was a door at the end of the staircase.
It was small even by Japanese standards. The guy opens the door and inside they had thrown a mattress in the middle of a broom closet, cleaning supplies and all. He was hugely apologetic, probably made more so by how excited I was just to see a bed ... frantically telling him over and over again "it's good!"
When we got back down stairs he was struggling to get something out in English ... "no ch", "no ch", "no ch", and finally he muddled "no charge". In some order: I smiled, thanked him in surely awful Japanese, and gave him a big hug.
Tragedy narrowly averted.
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