Autumn is my favourite season. I love watching the landscape slowly turning from lush greens to a patchwork of red, orange and yellow hues. I still remember my first encounter with fall in Japan five years ago, when I visited Tokyo.
Streets were lined with row after row of yellow gingko and red maple. It was almost like one of those scenes from a jigsaw puzzle. Shrines in Japan are most beautiful, in my opinion, during fall. There’s an inexplicable tranquillity and spiritual energy in these places.
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After a quick browse through Tripadvisor, I decided to check out Cape Etomo (絵鞆岬) and seek out one of Muroran’s specialty dishes – curry ramen. I must say this had to be one of the best decisions I’ve made on this trip. If there’s one place you ever need to try curry ramen, it’s 
My belly folks were humming a tune, and I hopped along to it as I made my way to Cape Etomo (絵鞆岬). Google Maps informed me that the trek to the cape would take about an hour on foot, but this time round, I decided to try my luck and just board any bus that would take me as close as possible to the cape. Last night’s misadventure told me that bus no.14 might be my best shot. And so it proved to be, though I had to ride my luck and guess the stop to alight. From my alighting point, it was just another 300 metre walk to the cape, which took less than five minutes.
Although less celebrated than Cape Chikyu (judging by the fact that besides me, there were only three others), Cape Etomo, in my opinion, has more to offer. Not only can you enjoy a panoramic view of the Pacific, but also a perfect vista of the majestic Hakucho Bridge that spans the port of Muroran and its marina. I spent a good half an hour just taking in the scenery.
However, the best find had to be 
Muroran is dead, and pretty ugly.
Despite knowing what to expect (well, kind of), I was still disappointed by how dead the city felt. I was the only customer in a tonkatsu restaurant at a little past noon on a Sunday afternoon. Outside, I could count with my hands how many people I had actually met on the way to this restaurant from the station. Never mind, I told myself. After all, the reason I came to Muroran was to seek out its natural wonders. While Muroran is not famed for onsens, shrines or man-made tourist attractions, it boasts some of Hokkaido’s best scenic views (the locals call it the 8 Sights of Muroran or 室蘭八景). And I’ve come here in search of arguably its most famous sight, the Earth Cape (地球岬).
The Earth Cape is a 2.7 km uphill walk from Bokoi Station. Apparently, there are no buses to the Cape, so you either walk or drive there. Unfortunately for me, my legs would have to be my wheels. Perhaps it’s the weather, or the fatigue from the upward trudge, but to be honest, the view of the Pacific, with the Earth Cape’s iconic ghostly white lighthouse only lasted mere seconds.
If you ask me, I felt the descent proved to be far more interesting than the ascent. Instead of returning to Bokoi Station, I took a left instead, in the direction of Muroran Station. Along the way, I came across a stunning view of a cove and a cemetery deep in the woods. Truth be told, I was walking at twice the pace because daylight was fading fast, and I was desperate to make it to the city centre before it got dark! Thankfully, I just about made it when the last rays laced the evening sky.
After a quick dinner, I headed for my next destination – the Hakucho Bridge. In a sense, I had to say I had asked for it. I had already spent a good part of the afternoon walking, and despite my aching legs screaming for me to call it a day, I decided to check out the Hakucho Bridge. Once again, Google Maps informed me that there seemed to be no bus connectivity, so I would have to make the 40-minute walk on foot. So I did, past empty streets, and empty roads. And this was just a little past 7 p.m. but it looked as if the city might already have gone to bed. For what seemed to me like eternity, I kept urging myself on, tucking my hands deep into my sweater in search of some warmth in the chilly air. As the bridge loomed larger into view, I realised that the start / end was a massive loop which meant that I would have to make a huge detour just to trace the entry. Just a little more, I egged myself. And then there it was, a sign that said “No entry to pedestrians, bicycles and motor-cyclists”.
I spent the next 15 minutes snapping away, zooming in and out, even attempting a ‘live’ broadcast on Facebook. And then, the thought of having to trudge back to the train station suddenly hit me. It’s well past eight now, and I’m pretty sure any chance of a last bus was slim, since it was a Sunday. Along the return journey, I stopped at any bus stop I happened to come across and used my handphone as a torch to check the bus schedule. I had no luck for about two to three stops before I found one that told me that there might be a chance that I might still be able to catch the last bus. I decided I would take the chance.
A caldera lake created by the eruption of three adjoining volcanoes (Mount Eniwa, Mount Fuppushi and Mount Tarumae), Lake Shikotsu is the second deepest lake in Japan. It’s about a 30 minute bus ride from Chitose Train Station. On the weekend I visited, there was a huge crowd of mainland Chinese tourists (well, you can’t avoid them, they are everywhere…). And they were milling around a small jetty which offers boat rides in the shape of swans. After checking out the rental fees, I decided to give it a miss. I headed for the quieter end of the footpath, where there’s a wooden platform that leads down to the waters. There, along with a few others, I took off my shoes and treaded carefully into the waters. This was also a good spot to capture the beauty of the lake, with the surrounding volcanoes. I didn’t stay in the waters for long because the pebbled ground was giving my feet a painful massage, so I retreated to the wooden platform and sat there to soak in the sun and beauty of the surroundings. A colleague told me that there’s a secret onsen resort on the opposite end of the lake (from where I was), the 
Two weekends later, my belly tubbies (sorry, Micah, I borrowed your term) are calling out for beer, so instead of paying a ‘pilgrimage’ to my town’s resident shrine, the Tarumaezan Shrine, I decided to book an appointment to visit the Sapporo Beer Factory. It helps that there’s a train station named after it, and walking to the factory from the train station took only about 15 minutes. I was given a detailed commentary by the guide, albeit in Japanese (which means I probably only understood 10% of what he’s trying to tell me). What disturbed me was that my ‘tour’ group comprised a couple of Japanese families with toddlers and 5-year-olds in tow. Surely, this is not the right place to bring your kids for an educational tour, unless you intend to raise alcoholics. Well, at least not yet, in my humble opinion. The kids were creating such a ruckus during the tour that at times, it was difficult to hear the guide. I also made the mistake of picking a weekend to visit the factory, as it was a rest day, which meant that the machines weren’t working and we could only watch videos of the assembly, filling and bottling processes.
The saving grace of this tour? Two free half pints of authentic Sapporo beer on tap, straight from the source. And you can kick back your shoes at the spacious viewing gallery (which overlooks an expansive golf course) to savour your brew. Depending on your experiences, I would say this tour of the Sapporo Beer Factory beats the one I had at the Sapporo Beer Museum which I wrote about previously, for the simple reason that you don’t pay a single dime for your booze. Call me a cheapskate if you like, but any free beer wins my vote anytime!
I guess that’s about all Chitose had to offer, so I was ready to venture further this time. The next nearest destination on my Google Maps is Shiraoi, a sleepy rural town with a decent museum and village on the Ainus, the indigenous people of Hokkaido. However, reviews have been average at best, and I’m all too familiar with the Japanese’ love for dioramas, so this Ainu village may not be an exception. I ditched the idea of looking at fake people and animals and instead opted for Noboribetsu.
The last time I was in 
For this trip, I decided to check out the 
What made this trip worth it though were the cultural performances, and I was really fortunate to be able to catch all of them, almost back-to-back! There were four altogether, including two ninja action shows, a comedy featuring the village mascot, a samurai cat/dog called Nyan and my favourite, an Oiran show. Oirans were top-ranked courtesans a.k.a prostitutes during the Edo period. They actually enjoyed prestige and social status during the Edo period, even invoking a sense of mystique among the common townsfolk.
There’s also a whimsically eerie Cat Temple (O-nyanko), with an interesting “haunted house” experience. In fact, the Cat Temple was probably scarier than the adjacent Haunted House (incredibly named the House of Ghosts and Monsters), which turned out to be more lame than horrifying. I also found the Ninja Maze pretty entertaining, seeing people (myself included) struggling to balance themselves on 30-degree inclined rooms. Overall, I had an enjoyable two hours stepping back in time to feudal Japan, and for a while, fantasising about how cool it must have been to be a ninja or samurai. For a split second, I even contemplated lugging a katakana or Oiran doll home from one of the souvenir shops. 
I could still remember vividly my first trip to Tokyo. Well, why couldn’t I? After all, it was only about five years ago, to be honest. No big deal, you may think.
Japan today is a modern democracy, celebrated for its cuisine and culture, and revered for its natural beauty. Its economy may have stagnated for more than two decades in recent times. Yet, the Land of the Rising Sun is still recognised as one of the most influential economies in Asia, and even the world.
I returned from that trip to Tokyo in December 2011 with a new determination and conviction to take up the Japanese language again. I use the word ‘again’ because I had previously taken Japanese as a language elective module during my varsity years. I had lasted merely two semesters then because I found myself spending more time studying and revising Japanese than the other core modules, which affected my grades. This time, however, I am determined to master it, I tell myself. And when I do, I want to return to Japan, to find a job and experience living in Japan for a couple of years. I am on the verge of realising my dream come August this year.
Archaeologists have debated the exact function and symbolism of Bayon, according to Lonely Planet. However, if you were trying to guard against a counterattack from your enemy, the scenario that Jayavarman VII found himself in at that time, the many faces of your own portrait, designed to pass off as similar to that of a Bodhisattva, makes perfect sense.
Everyday, at around half past four, a pilgrimage of sorts – comprising tuk tuks (a local motorcycle taxi), mini-vans, and tour coaches – descend in droves to a sandstone causeway. Here, the pilgrims (a veritable mixed bag of nationalities) disembark.
Half the fun of exploring the architectural wonders of the Khmer kingdom lies in reading up the rich history of each shrine and monument. I know this sounds like a wet blanket but really, reading up on the history of the Angkorian period (AD802 – 1432) and the many kings that embarked on their own building fantasies – each, of course, with the view to leaving behind his own legacy (and hopefully outdoing its predecessors), allows you to appreciate these stunning behemoths. Without the historical context, it’s easy to get ‘temple fatigue’ after a day at Angkor, and all you may see are just piles of stone and rubble.
Preah Khan
East Mebon
Pre Rup
And that’s not all. If you make the short hike up Nishiyama, you would be confronted by another view – on both sides. One side takes you to a baby caldera lake, the other opens up to the Sea of Japan. 
One of my personal highlights on this trip to Hokkaido are the train rides. I know train journeys can be boring, monotonous, painful, even nauseating for some people. And some popped the sleeping pill almost as soon as they boarded the train. But I assure you that in Hokkaido (unless you’re a local of course), train rides are an excellent opportunity to marvel at the natural beauty of Hokkaido.
Every time the train emerges from a tunnel, a new snow draped mountain unfolds before my eyes. And like the curtains on a stage, the peaks start to reveal themselves one after another. I zipped past endless rows of snow-spangled cones from 
lonesojourns 