A little over a week ago, Ets and I took advantage of the rare occurrence of coinciding days off to head out to the hot spring town of Hakone (again) to enjoy the wintry chill and the steaming water that gushed from sources underground.

We bought to tickets on the very strangely named Romancecar train to whisk us away from Tokyo.

Stairs going up the hill led to the lookout post from which you could see the entire Sekisho and most of Lake Ashi.

Here's Ets being all look-outy for ... something.

And the silliness that we have come to expect from such excursions.


By that time, it was about time for us to head to the ryokan to check-in and have the first of several baths followed by dinner. It was snowing quite heavily when we made it to the ryokan but unfortunately, the weather cleared up when I went to the outdoor bath (>_< ) I have yet to successfully take a bath outdoors whilst it was snowing. Dinner consisted of a selection of tiny things, sashimi, nabe, and a big bowl of crab soup. Each.


Ets was determined to scrape out every bit of crab meat that wasn't boiled away that she could from the shell.


Breakfast was just as grand and almost ended our plans for an early start.


We left before 9 so that we could arrive at the Hakone Gora Park Craft House and finish making our cups with plenty of time left to do everything elso on our list. Like the evening before, it was snowing again and the air was crisp and fresh, the polar opposite of what we usually breathed in Tokyo.
After looking at the options available, we both decided that we didn't need any more normal cups or glasses and opted to make our own ...
wait for it ... BEER CUPS.




We had complete freedom as to what we wanted our beer cups to look like and Ets' ended up looking like this.


I don't quite share the same artistic talent as Ets although I seem to be more able at making a cup that didn't resemble a vase. I present my sad attempt at a sakura-themed beer cup complete with imperfection at the base to indicate its amateur hand-made nature.


After finishing our masterpieces, we bade farewell to the artisans that would fire our cups in the oven and send them to us, and took the cable car up to Owakudani.
I love cable car rides and it began simply enough with us rising above the cable car station and surroundings and proceeding further up the mountain.


Hey, is it getting foggy?


Within moments ...


The car seemed to slow to a crawl and we'd inch our way through the white blindness until finally, through the fog (cloud?), we saw our final stop and got out at the Great Boiling Valley, Owakudani.


Upon disembarking, we could immediately detect a slight odour in the air. A strange mustiness that smelled like sweat and eggs. Sulphur.
This particular part of Hakone is famous for only one thing. The area is carefully cordoned off because some 'injurious' volcanic gases might suddenly erupt. There are no hot springs in which you can take a bath. So what is so famous around here?
The eggs. Specifically, the black eggs that purports to extend your life by 7 whole years for each that you consume. As the eggs are sold in bags of 6, most tourists end up eating 42 years worth in one sitting. The little shop at the source was a good 15 minutes up the mountain on foot and with each footstep, the foul stench grew stronger.


Once we got there, we lined up, bought a bag and went off in search of a place to lengthen our lives. Here we are with our haul. They even come with a little sachet of salt to flavour your eggs.


And here I am in the process of scalding my fingers with the fresh-from-the-volcano egg. Truth be told, they tasted exactly like normal hard-boiled eggs although the supposed rich taste is a "gourmand gift from the king of hell".


3 eggs each later, we took the cable car back down to Lake Ashi and boarded a comically funny pirate ship for a cruise to the other side of the lake ...



... and then went down to the Suzuhiro Kamaboko Museum with the intention to join one of the classes on making our own kamaboko. We arrived 10 minutes too late and had to settle for watching others make their fish paste products.
The museum had their own little snacking area where you could buy a kamaboko-sake set, sit down and enjoy its Zen-like tranquility ... and I suppose fight the urge to pee because of all that running water.


Even after that, we still had an hour before our train so we went to a cafe and afternoon tea comprising a sweet potato pie and some matcha.


The cafe was very much like Craft House in that both were very arty farty. I suspect that all the plates and cups originated from the very place where I fashioned my own cup not five hours ago. The chairs all had strange phrases carved into the back. Some were in English and yet others were in a tongue unknown to me. One such chair made me laugh.


The doors to the facilities were also appropriately decorated.


Finally, the hour drew near and we took the new Romancecar back to the concrete jungle of Tokyo.