Walking with bear bells

Jackie Woods

There were a few things I was worried about after booking a self-guided walking tour along Japan’s Nakasendo Way.

Getting rained out, comfort (or rather, discomfort) levels at the traditional accommodation along the way, but mostly the prospect of Miserable Children and manifestations thereof – whinging, scowling, bickering etc.

Four days of rain would be disappointing, four days of complaining would surely break me.

I needn’t have worried. The rain waited until after we were well-fed and tucked up in our cosy futons each night and disgruntlement stayed away completely.

The trail was just such a delight, we were all excited to see what was around the next corner: an old water wheel, a bell to scare bears (there were many bells and warnings, but family opinion was split over whether we wanted to actually see a bear or not), a family shrine, a cobbled pathway disappearing into a bamboo forest, a crystal clear stream of mountain water, a gorgeous cherry blossom or camellia or magnolia – or a whole grove of them, a place to drink green tea or a vending machine with hot sweet coffee, a snake!*

The Nakasendo Way is an old trade route between Kyoto and Tokyo (or Edo as it was known), the sections we visited run through Nagano Prefecture’s Kiso Valley.

The series of so-called ‘post towns’, where travellers overnighted along the way, are characterised by dark wooden buildings fronting onto narrow streets, straight out of a samurai movie.

There were 69 post towns on the route but only a few have been restored – Magome, Tsumago and Narai are extraordinary, with centuries’ old inns and shrines and shops. While they’re quaint and quiet tourist destinations now (quiet mid-week at least), it’s easy to imagine them buzzing with the activity of tired travellers, traders, messengers and noblemen.

The towns are special but the best part is walking between them. Following the Nakasendo takes you over cobbled pathways, dirt tracks and wooden stairs; through fields and between houses and into dark forests.

It’s not all traditional and picture bookish. Sometimes the trail runs parallel to a highway or joins the road for a while, it runs past construction and logging and railways. The area punches above its weight in power lines suggesting hydro-power generation nearby – there’s certainly a large volume of water running down the mountains. But these are interesting and legitimate parts of the landscape too and there’s probably a metaphor in there somewhere about traditional and modern life co-existing here.

The walking’s steep and strenuous in parts – we were all knocked out after a day of steep ascents and descents on the stretch between Tsumago and Nojiri. Remarkably, for April in Japan, there were very few other hikers around beyond the Magome to Tsumago leg which is the most popular.

So many highlights in just a few days: the statues at the top of the steep Torii pass, curiously expressive faces telling the stories of those walking the trail hundreds of years ago; blankets of daffodils bursting out of fields and rocky gardens; tall, straight trees that seemed to reach the sky; soaking in a hot onsen after a satisfying day’s walk.

But my greatest pleasure was seeing the kids take off ahead, energetic and wide-eyed, striding along this centuries old trail and laying memories to take into the future.

*The snake was photographed for instagramming purposes before evasive action was taken, shaking my confidence in how we’d deal with a bear situation. Thankfully a conundrum for another day.

Thousand-year-old Buddhist enclave perched on a mountain-top. Temples. Shrines. Steep cable-car. Living tradition. I was hooked as soon as I saw Koyasan in the Japan tour guide. How could it not be on the itinerary for our family holiday?

My research effort, a single page in the Lonely Planet, told me that Japanese people make the pilgrimage to Koyasan and its ancient cemetery to honour the dead.

Immediately, this short leg of our journey took on a special significance. My mother had embraced Japanese Buddhism in the years before she died, too young, too long ago. This would be my chance to do something special in her honour. I would bring a token of her to leave in this deeply spiritual place, I decided, keenly anticipating of the loving peace the gesture was sure to deliver.

I arrived to discover that Koyasan is indeed a beautiful and deeply spiritual place.

Yet, in a combination of the blessed nature of family travel and the stubborn opacity of Japan (read Peter Carey’s delightful Wrong About Japan for more on that), I just couldn’t figure the place out.

An audio tour of the town promised fascinating insights, but the kids would never have tolerated the pace. Ditto, scouring museums. We turned up for a nighttime tour of Oku-no-in, the cemetery, only to find it was in French.

I didn’t need any extra information to be blown away by beauty of the shrine where Kobo Daishi, the founder of Koyasan’s Shingon school of Buddhism, is believed to be meditating in his tomb these last 1200 years (thankyou Lonely Planet). Or to be moved by the depth and resonance of the monks’ early morning chanting.

But was I doing the right thing with the incense? The ladels and water and multiple Buddha statues out the front looked important, but for what? And how? What were the colourful bibs and hats doing on all the statues? What were the golden charms and what should you do with them?

Here I was, surrounded by opportunities to honour my dead, with no idea how.

Anticipation of my grand moment of loving peace evaporated. It turned out I didn’t want to leave a token of my mum at Koyasan. It may be a beautiful and spiritual place, but it wasn’t my spiritual place.

Instead, I brought a bit of Koyasan back with me. The Buddhist supermarket over the road sold bulk lots of pretty lotus flower candles and I burn one on the mantlepiece at home.

I mightn’t have got the detail, but I was touched by the essence of shrines for the dead: the candles, the coins, the tokens, the snacks, the tending and caring.

It delighted me to see statues adorned with colourful, woollen hats. They seemed to acknowledge that people live on in a real and complicated way in our hearts. They’re gone, but we still have a desire to look after them. To connect with them, keep their heads warm.

And they reminded me of my mum. She, like so many others in the thick of chemo, like the statues of Koyasan, was often adorned with a beanie.

Not the pilgrimage I expected. Less grand and more confusing, but with a definite sideways glimpse of loving peace.

Go green.








Go pink.






















Go out.










Go to loud places.




Go silent, go concrete.













Go up.










Go dark.








Go to penis festival.






As you read it in my last blog posts, you know now that the delicate makeup from Les Merveilleuses by Ladurée is for the free women who enjoy being women and pursue new forms of beauty.

Well, this is the theory.

But who are really these coquette and fashionable women who value Liberty and the Love of beauty ?

Let’s paint the portrait of the ultimate customer of Les Merveilleuses…

Meet Yuki ( 有希).

Yuki is Japanese and lives in Tokyo, in the Minamiazabu district.

She is 20 and lives a comfortable life with her parents.

Only child, she is a little princess : everything she wants, she has it.

Her dad is a businessman working in the Center of Tokyo. She doesn’t know exactly what he does for a living and she doesn’t really care.

She is an artsy girl. She has a lot of passions such as photography, music (she took piano lessons since she was little), traveling (she loves discovering new cultures and her favorite city is Paris), and art (she loves to go to galleries and museums in Tokyo).

She also loves Animals ans has a cat named Kisu :

But what Yuki loves the most are fashion and makeup ! She has an extensive knowledge of makeup and a great sense of what is happening on the makeup market.

When she is not studying at the Faculty of Letters of The University of Tokyo, she loves to hang out with friends. She usually goes in Ginza or Harajuku districts, where you can find most of Tokyo’s numerous department stores and boutiques.

This is where she heard about Les Merveilleuses for the first time. She can still remember the in-store experience at the Laforet Harajuku store a few years ago.

Yuki knew the “Ladurée” brand before. She even tasted some of their famous macaroons in the Champs-Elysées store in Paris. So she was curious to discover and try this new makeup line that some bloggers she follows had already positively talked about.

She immediately fell in love with the cute and girly design of the products, the excellent quality of the details, and the romantic and strong smell of roses that made her feel like in a fairy-tale world.

Having some Les Merveilleuses blush on her cheek or some LM lipstick on her lips made her feel pretty and more confident. Plus, it gave her that little “French touch”, symbol of liberty and beauty !

Les Merveilleuses is now his every day makeup. She follows the brand on social media (Twitter, Facebook and Instagram) and create a lot of content, notably pictures on Instagram and tweets about her new purchases.

She wears Les Merveilleuses makeup to be pretty and dance all night in Roppongi or Shibuya districts. But she also wears it when she doesn’t go downtown Tokyo.

Indeed, sometimes Yuki enjoys strolling in the Park next to her house. She likes to go there to read (mangas, but also English novels) or have a picnic with friends.

Sometimes she just go there and dream she travels to Paris again. She loves France and would like to study there next year ! She feels already more French with her makeup !

She will of course bring Kisu ! And she even learned how to cook macaroons 😉

This post was created as part of the Global Luxury Management Program at the NC State Poole School of Management. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

We pulled into The Visitor Center parking lot of the National Park. Next to us rolled these three big, tough, rough guys on Harleys. They write leather, head bands and boots.

I was with my wife and Mom. We were stopping off for info and potty break. With in moments we had a fun chat with the big bikers.

They were on their way to the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. They were taking the long way, touring the county. They were southerners and gentlemen; they called mom “little Missouri mama” much to her delight.

I said something about Sturgis being a great big party.

“Not for us,” said the biggest of the big guys, “we are Pastors!”

It seems these guys were going to be holding spiritual services for the rally.

Well, I did not mean drugs and stuff. 22 years sober I can have more fun now than I ever did inebriated.

I did not say anything. We were having a nice first base chat. (A first base chat, is the conversation the runner has with the first baseman in baseball. It is short and to the point)

It is amazing how much one can say in a few seconds.

“Nice night.”

“Yep.”

“Could use some rain.”

“Dry this time of year.”

“Yep, it’d be nice with a bit of rain.”

The pastors had broken the code of the first base conversation. They had gotten too serious. I hope they lightened up by the time they got to the motorcycle rally.

I know members of a couple Christian motorcycle clubs. They are nice fun loving folks. Open, kind and generous. They ride to raise funds for charity. I have tried this joke on them a couple times. It always flops. Maybe because, often, they have come from a violent and ugly past.

Forgive me if I have offend anyone.

And if it has offended anyone; lighten up! Do not violate the code of the first base chat.



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