Kyoto: Finding a hotel

As I headed out of the station, I had to face one of the downsides of impromptu travel: scrambling for lodging. This has rarely been a problem for me in Nagasaki or Fukuoka, as those are modestly big cities, not sprawling metropolises or the cultural capital of Japan. I passed the first few hotels around the station, discouraged by their gaudy decor. I was looking for a no-frills hotel like Nagasaki and Fukuoka have in abundance, for no-nonsense in-and-out businessmen and travelers.

However, there weren't any of those within short walking distance from the station. After about half an hour spent discovering this, I trudged into a couple of the hotels I'd passed. One of them was full, and the other only had a smoking room. I can deal with that, but when I heard the price--about $150--I politely declined. I'd sleep in an internet cafe before paying $150 for a smoking room.

I wandered on, making gradually wider circles away from the station. After eight or nine "sorry-we're-full" conversations, I headed down a long and especially dark street north of the station. I passed a sprawling temple whose name I couldn't read, and a group of Japanese guys greeted me in English. My feet were starting to hurt, and it was getting a little cold. Just as I began reconsidering that $150 sure-thing, though, I saw a Toyoko Inn. That's the chain I frequent in Nagasaki, and they usually run about $50, so I headed in, hoping against hope they had a vacancy.

The lady greeted me, and when I asked about a room, she spent a few seconds consulting her computer. An apologetic look came over her face, which made me fear the worst. She indeed apologized, but went on to say that the only room they could offer me was near the lobby, that this meant the din from the lobby would be audible from the room, and we're very sorry, but that's all we have--will that be okay?

Most of you know how deeply I sleep. I recall many mornings at the dining hall where I'd hear from Chuck or Cord that they had come in and made a lot of noise playing Smash Bros the night before, and couldn't believe that I hadn't so much as stirred in my bed. That in mind, I nearly laughed out loud, but figured that would either confuse or offend the lady. I happily took the room (for $50), and, at 11:30--two full hours after arriving in Kyoto--I had a place to stay.

The room was just as nice as every other Toyoko room I've stayed in: comfortable without being plush. As always, just being able to sleep in a bed was treat enough for me. Poking around the room, I soon discovered why it was so close to the lobby: they gave me the handicapped room. The bathroom was huge, with a big bathtub (set low in the ground for ease of entry) and a fully automatic toilet.

I doubt anyone who hasn't been to Japan will understand what I mean by "fully automatic toilet." While rural Japan still uses squatty potties, most public restrooms use the Western-style toilet model. Building on that design, Japan has produced an intricate and technologically advanced style of toilet.

Probably the most common feature of Japanese toilets is the heated seat. Almost all models also have the bidet feature. In addition to the traditional analog handle, some toilets can be flushed by the press of a button. When you assume the position, the pressure on the seat usually triggers a sensor that starts a five- or ten-second stream of water into the toilet. I've been told this is to provide a distracting noise.

I'm usually too mystified to try to figure them out--and too afraid I'll accidentally hit the 'bidet' button--but they never cease to amuse me. This toilet, in addition to all the aforementioned bells and whistles, had a motion sensor designed to lift the lid automatically. The first couple of times I used it, I lifted the seat before the sensor could kick in, which resulted in the distressed whirring of the manual operation of a normally automated motion.

The seat remains up for a few minutes after flushing, at which point the toilet issues a beep and lowers it. Most bathrooms I've been to in Japan have the exhaust fan linked to the light switch, and the fan remains on for a minute or two after turning off the switch. These sounds--the residual fan and the delayed beeping and whirring--made going to bed that first night much more amusing.