After our morning in Yokohama we took the Shinkansen (bullet train) from Yokohama to Kyoto, the old capital of Japan. We’re staying at a traditional Japanese style inn called a Ryokan, which means sleeping on futons and tatame mats on the floor amongst bamboo and rice paper walls. An adventure! 

We walked around the old district of Gion that afternoon and evening. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom and people from all over had travelled in to admire them. It was amazing. Gion is full of quaint alleys and streets covered in old wooden Japanese style houses, small canals and lots of bird life. So, so pretty. The red statuesque Yasaka Shrine in Gion is magnificent and draws in the crowds. The light shone on it so perfectly as Greg took the photograph.

I LOVE grilled unagi (eel) with rice. Greg spotted an Unagi-ya (a small restaurant that serves grilled eel), and that was where we had supper. Again, there were no English speaking people in sight, so thanks to the plastic “mock-ups” of the food outside, we were able to order our meal. I had Unagi Donburi (with rice) and Greg had Unagi Tomago (eel omelet). I had it with tea and pickles while Greg washed his down with an ice cold Asahi beer. Fabulous.

After a rainy start to our time in Yokohama, we welcomed the sun with extra enthusiasm on day 2. It was still quite chilly, but at least it was dry. The land of the rising sun had lived up to it’s name. Oh, how things always look better in the sunshine. 

Yokohama has a large Chinatown that was in walking distance from our hotel. So Greg suggested that we have dim sum for breakfast, which sounded like a smashing idea to me. Jet lag had us up at the crack of dawn, so we strolled around a very quiet Chinatown before the crowds descended. 

We usually sit down at a restaurant table to have dim sum, but this time we had “bao” on the go. Bao is a steamed bun filled with a tasty and often sweet and spicy filling. Greg had his usual pork filled bao while I had one filled with shrimp and veggies. They were fresh, hot and delicious, and really hit the spot.

Although there wasn’t an English speaker in sight, we were able to identify the bao’s we wanted from the plastic versions of the food that they have outside almost every eatery here in Japan. As odd as the plastic food “mock-ups” seem at first, the displays are extremely helpful to foreigners like us. We have come to rely them more and more as we seek out eateries. Of course, the gracious manner of the people here makes the ordering even easier. 

With bao and a few more tasty treats in hand, we walked through Chinatown. It was beautiful. We find the colourful atmosphere, ornate decorations, noise and all round hustle and bustle very relaxing. Having grown up in Hong Kong I feel right at home in any city that has a Chinatown area.

After savory treats in Chinatown it was time for something sweet. Off to Motomachi street we went, where we had eyed a bakery full of yummy delights the day before. Greg and I shared a sweet, fluffy sponge and what I originally thought was a jam doughnut. The jam turned out to be sweet red bean paste, which was just as yummy. We sat on a sunny bench and refueled our tummies while watching the passersby. 

You’ll probably recognize most of my outfit. I paired a navy and cream striped silk blouse with blue zippered skinnies and a cropped ink blue tailored blazer. I popped my cream trench coat over the lot as an extra layer. Virtually flat, ever so slightly wedged dove grey ankle booties were in order for another day of walking and traveling. And you’ll see the same crushed black patent doctor’s bag throughout this trip.

It was time to say goodbye to Yokohama and we headed off to Shin-Yokohama station to catch the Shinkansen (bullet train) to Kyoto. In the old imperial capital of Japan we’ll be meeting Tomoko and Brian, the bride and groom to be.

Our first day in Japan was wet, but fun. From what we’ve seen of the city, Yokohama has got to be the one of the quaintest places I’ve visited. Everything about it is insanely cute — from the tiny trucks and cars on the narrow picturesque streets, to the pretty potted flowers, the adorable kids, the terraced parks and gardens, and the presentation of food. It’s all so clean and neat as a pin, and the locals are as hospitable as can be. 

We really wanted to visit the second largest city of Japan before heading out to Kyoto and Tokyo because my parents lived here in the late 1960’s with my brother before I was born. We walked through the area around the lovely Motomachi shopping street, and headed up to the clinic in Yamate where my brother was born. Greg took lots of photos for my Dad, and we’re curious to hear how much of Yokohama he recognizes 46 years later. 

Needing some caffeine to stave off the jet lag, we went into a nice coffee shop expecting to make a quick stop for tea and coffee. But even though we’d had a substantial breakfast barely two hours earlier, we couldn’t resist the pizza toast (for Greg) and the the almond toast (for me). A tasty surprise was peanut butter in the almond toast, and a highlight of the experience was the doll size milk decanter that came with Greg’s coffee. 

Lunch was a fun reinterpretation of western food, but for dinner we got down to business. First, a Yakitori-ya. A tiny restaurant that specializes in little chicken skewers of more varieties than you would imagine. Brian, who’s wedding we’ll be attending next week, had just sent us email with instructions on what to order (including phonetic spelling so we’d get the pronunciation right): 

If you like green onion or leeks, I highly recommend ordering “neggy-ma” (negi-ma). It is pieces of chicken and leek, alternating on a skewer — so damned good!  I also recommend “tsookoonay” (tsukune) and “tebasakey” (tebasaki).

After the delicious Yakitori we went a few doors down for sashimi — raw fish — which is one of my favourite things in the world. Another tiny little place with incredibly warm and friendly staff. They didn’t speak English, but Moichi from the table alongside ours stepped in and made sure that we got what we wanted. He had spent a couple of years in Austin, Texas, working on control systems for power plants, and he had picked up quite an impressive command of the English language while he was there.

You have seen all the items I’m wearing here before, just remixed in a different ways. White button down under a striped tee with jodhpur jeans, my favourite black jacket and a Burberry scarf. Flats are a must for a day of walking so on went the oxfords, along with black doctor’s bag and umbrella. It was a little cold and wet, but not enough to dampen our spirits.

All through elementary school, handicraft classes were the bane of my existence. Even with the best of intentions my needlework, knitting and crocheting always turned out a big mess. Edges were never straight, stitches dropped inexplicably, and I had a death grip on my knitting needles so the yarn refused to budge. The weekends when our teacher wanted us to wrap up a project at home were the worst. This invariably ended in tears. I would struggle for hours with the same few rows, ripping out the work over and over again. Sighing dramatically, emanating a whiff of despair until my sweet Mama took pity on me and finished my assignment for me. I’m sure the entire family heaved a sigh of relief when in ninth grade handicrafts were no longer on the school curriculum. 

And yet, all this has never stopped me from enjoying books like Yarn Harlot: The Secret Life of a Knitter. Perhaps I should call it reading for an imaginary lifestyle. It’s completely harmless and awfully good fun really. Daydreaming about a parallel universe in which I’m an accomplished seamstress making all my own clothes, a world where I happily knit away the hours just to relax. But there’s more to it than that. Above all, I find the personal stories behind any passion paired with vignettes of daily life tremendously fascinating.

Stephanie Pearl-McPhee is the Yarn Harlot. The author was bitten by the knitting bug thirty years ago and has been a tiny bit obsessed with needles and yarn ever since. Her self-deprecating short stories recount many adventures and misadventures in knitting – recognizable to anyone whose hobby is also their passion. From the insanity of finishing hand knit gifts hours before Christmas, souvenir stashes, running out of discontinued yarn with only half a sweater sleeve to go and conquering challenging patterns, to precious craft moments with friends and the joy of creating something with your own hands.

If you are an avid knitter, do you enjoy reading stories about your hobby? Perhaps you have a few misadventures of your own to share? If not, would you pick up a book about a certain craft or passion anyway, to get a glimpse of another world?