No Place Like Home

It's pissing down outside our bus shelter and it's only mid morning-we've travelled 5ks since breaking camp, but if it keeps up like this we may have some of the locals in our "bedroom" awaiting the bus. 

It's still raining, our second bus shelter for today and it's a late lunch. Well the rain did not stop, we got wet and cold and started looking for shelter. What looked like a Hotel turned out to be a locked office, we parked the bikes up in their covered car park and crossed the road to a large workshop, where a young man, who, like most people here, say they have no English, but clicked on the "hotel" ok. 

Now when you ask someone for help in Japan they pull out all stops. He walked to the shed door, then took off, running down the street through the rain and disappeared around a corner, with Val in hot pursuit. By the time I caught up, we were practically booked into the local hotel for the night. 

Mine host & hostess had never seen anything like us. Water pouring from within our sleeves and trouser legs, nowhere to store the bikes other than amongst a pile of broken down washing machines living right by the front entrance.

 Half an hour later we were transformed and getting immersed in the culture. A fantastic meal followed - we were the only guests and so had the full attention of our hosts, who sat cross legged on the floor at the side of the room no doubt highly amused at our antics. 

Thanks to Google Translate, we were able to chat a bit and they exploded with mirth when we asked if they'd had guests from NZ before. We had our wet clothes & dirty washing dry & clean next morning and departed best of friends.