We are off, out on our own, now we have to rely on how savvy we are at negotiating the trains, taxis etc. Equipped with train tickets, reserved seats, and times we had to be at the train. We set out. Our first leg was from Kyoto to Tsuruga on the fast train. This went without drama. Next was a “local” from Tsuruga to Takefu, which meant a transfer and ten minutes to find the right track. The signs were easy to follow and with little anxiety we found the train waiting. What we did not find was a place to buy tickets for that train. With our history of getting arrested on trains, being thrown off a train in Berlin for not having a ticket this was somewhat of a possible issue. Not one to be late for anything, having had it drummed into my head for my entire childhood, I opted for two choices. One, buy the ticket on the train; two, get thrown off at a station, find a ticket booth and get on the next train. Meanwhile, we had a 2:30 appointment with a potter somewhere in the mountains of the area around Takefu.

I opted for number two, Shap kept saying shouldn’t we find a place to buy a ticket, I said we did not have time and so we stayed on the train and it left. No one came to throw us off and when we arrived in Takefu we were able to buy a ticket so we could get out of the station and at the same time buy a return ticket to the next destination,Kanazaaw, later that day.

So far the trip was going according to our schedule UNTIL we went to get in the taxi. All our destinations are in English, a good thing for us but not for our taxi driver. We might as well have asked him to drive us to the moon, he had not the faintest idea where we wanted to go. Lots of conversation back and forth, he in Japanese and we in English. Google maps did us know good and I realized Google translate was not going to help. Taxi driver number two comes up, I breathe a sign of relief because our driver was about our age and I am not sure he was completely with it. Number two cannot figure out where we are to go.

Ok, now it is time to resort to sign language so I begin to show myself working on a wheel and saying “Ceramic.” The light bulb goes off for Number 2 and he instructs Number 1 on where he thinks we are going. We pile in Number 1 cab and drive 200 feet and he parks. Turns out we have to buy a taxi card and the women who sold it to us spoke English and knew where we wanted to go. Off we went into the mountains.

Arriving at Echizen Ware Industrial Cooperative there is not a car in sight, it looked like the rapture had happened and no one was left. Our driver had no idea where we were to meet, the map gave us no help and the phone number we called left the drive confused in Japanese and me confused in English. Something about texting me a picture, which I knew was never going to come through as my phone was not receiving or accepting calls within Japan. There was a round building that looked promising so went there, all closed up except one door. The driver and I went in and found one lonely person working. Once again a phone call and this time we struck gold, he knew where to tell the driver to go.

We arrive at a pottery store and no one knows what we are doing there. Another phone call and finally we are told someone is coming to meet us. Our taxi cab driver was happy to dump us and promised to be back at 4:30. While we waited we looked at the most beautiful pottery from this region, Echizen. I asked if they shipped and they said, “Very sorry, not to the U.S. anymore. Trump not good, tariffs.” We understood that immediately. Everyone showed very sad faces and agreed no one liked him. This is the second time we have run into this in 5 days.

Taka, our guide finally arrived, gave us the history of the area and the style of Echizen pottery which is very simple. Originally it was made only for utilitarian uses. It was very thick and plain. In the 12 th century the artisans began making more delicate pieces with decoration and glazes. This is because the seat of power was Kyoto with wealthy people wanting upscale items. This area was close to Kyoto. We walked around the area and looked at the large sculptures and then went off to meet the potters.

What a highlight, we met a father and son team who were very friendly. The father had a twinkle in his eye and was very engaging. The son said he did not learn from his father, but went to art school. The building where they had their studio was built by the grandfather and was a work of art itself. I wedged the clay, but did not make anything, only watched as they worked. We admired their work and asked about several pieces. I said I could not buy anything and I was sorry. Again we heard complaints of the tariffs and he showed us three shelves of clay pieces that were ordered from New York and the order was cancelled. So it seems the tariffs are not only hurting, us but small business people as these two.

We left and met a new taxi driver. We figured the other one quit after his experience earlier in the day. Arrived at the train station and without any mishaps we arrived in Kanazawa. Tomorrow a tour of the more artisans.

November 14, 2025

Rain, sleet, snow, ice was what we left behind in Stowe as we made our way to Montreal for the night on the 11th of November. Up early to get a 9 AM flight to Vancouver and onward to Kyoto. After a somewhat restless nap on our day flight across the Pacific we arrived at our hotel, Noku, in Kyoto around 8 pm. Beautifully decorated in the Japanese style, we inspected the toilet and tried out the various options from heated seats to the bidet. What we couldn’t figure out, with all the various buttons, was how to flush the damn thing. As I was about to ask Google, Shap found the handle on the side of the counter, a bit of a distance from the toilet. Go figure that one.

Today, Friday ? Really? We are going to bed as you guys are sound asleep. Right now as I am writing this at 4:41 PM it is 2:41 AM in New York. So confusing.

Breakfast was interesting. I decided to try the Japanese breakfast which started as miso soup (very good),salmon and on to Japanese eggs, a tiny rectangle of yellow that tasted sweet. No idea what that was. Lots of pickles and mushrooms. Nothing weird to speak of, no one swimming in my miso that shouldn’t be.

We decided to walk to the Textile Museum with a stop at the Imperial Gardens on the way. A tour of the palace was a surprise, as I thought it was closed. Seems no one was up before 11, as there were few people out and about til we got to the palace at 11. The crows or ravens, not sure which as I could not get a close look, circled from tree to tree around us, while talking amongst themselves with the loudest caw. They fascinate me. Name the bird below, we found him wading in the water, is he heron? Could he be a crane, I don’t think so.

Another long walk to the textile museum with a wonderful display of old and new looms. Having been a weaver, I was blown over by the intricacy of the designs, silk threads, patterns and the threading of the looms which were so complicated. The museum part showed various woven silk exquisite designs. From there to a shop, Aizen Kobo, that is located in a back street. The history is interesting as it was once known for the delicate tedious finger weaving technique that produces complicated relief brocade patterns. Women would file their fingernails into 5 grooves to be able to push the weft threads tight against the woven material. They used their fingers instead of the comb. As there was less demand for these kimonos in the 1920’s the father of the now owner, decided to go in the direction of folk art and began indigo dyeing fabrics. Today they are world famous with many of their clothes in museums such as the Albert and Victoria museum. Kenichi Utsuki, the current owner, taught classes at Columbia. The building is over a century old and has been recognized as a Cultural Asset.

Heading back to the hotel, we stepped into the shrine of the warthog. Who would make a shrine to a warthog. I will have to look that one up. There was a wedding ceremony happening so we took pictures. Check out the head dress on the bride. Don’t think the groom is going to do any kissing of the bride at the end of this ceremony. Seems Shap and I are always crashing weddings, so far in India, Romania and now Japan.

Thirteen thousand steps and more to go today. Enjoy some of the pictures.

Day 10 -12

I am sitting in the Newark airport waiting for my flight to Burlington which does not leave for two hours. I am so sick of lugging around my backpack, and what is so kindly referred to by the group as my “Mary Poppins” bag.  This bag has a reputation because you never know what is popping out of it from pillows to passports, money, tickets, Kindle, phone, glasses etc. Now I wish I had an umbrella to fly me to Stowe.

There was no time to write the last couple of days as we would pull into the hotel around 7 pm and rush to dinner. By the time we were through I was too exhausted to go through pictures and write.

How to describe this trip and get across the romance of Romania. Before I went, I did not know if Romania would be bordering on a poor country, still struggling from the aftermath of communism or if it has been able to bring the country into modern times. What is so wonderful about Romania is the rural areas. The people have maintained the old traditional ways and blended some technology to their world. It amazes me that we can’t get cell service in Vermont in many places and yet in Romania even the poorest villages down in the valleys have service.

The landscape is varied driving from open land to high mountain tops. Curve after curve as the road winds up the mountain, brings spectacular views of the valleys below. The leaves are changing on the trees which provide a backdrop of shimmering gold meadows against the multitude of sheep. The shepherds and their dogs are always willing to share a story, allow us to take their pictures and talk to us about their job. Sheep roam the countryside while the dogs keep them reined in and protected. It was always a question when we stepped into the meadows if the dogs would attack. Our Romanian guide kept a whip handy in case, but if the shepherd was nearby, he had complete control of the dogs and if we stayed together there was not a threat.

The farmers with their ox and carts would stop and talk with us while hauling wood or other products. They would allow us to take pictures of their cows getting milked or of them cutting their fields with a sickle. The goats loved to come and be petted and nibble on our shiny jewelry. The churches, seemed to grow in the countryside like meadow mushrooms, doting the picture-perfect landscape. There was not a turn in the road to disappoint us photographers.

Now I have my answer to the question of “Why Romania?” It is a place that makes you believe there are people who care for our planet, who respect their environment and are trusting enough to let a group of photographers into their homes to share their way of life.

Day 9

Castles, castles and more castles. Well, not completely. First, we struggle out into the dawn and drive through winding roads to a village, who knows where, to unload and start to walk down the road waiting for the sun to rise over the mountain. As it does, there is a certain glow which illuminates the changing trees to a shimmering gold, dusts the backs of the cows in the pasture, and encircles the haystacks. It is such a thrill to be in this rural environment as the day begins. The farmer prods his cows along a pathway between pastures, the sheep are grazing contently along the fence line and three people are sitting in the pasture milking their cows. We are lucky to be able to be the only ones on the road taking in this magnificent scene.

I am impressed by the way of life in the rural areas which have kept many of the old traditional ways. In the small villages there are no barns with milking machines, the bread ovens are all wood fired, and the blacksmiths are still shoeing horses in the traditional ways. Yes, there are cell phones, and cars, but one still sees many horses and carts transporting wood, corn, hay, people, milk, and everything that needs to be hauled. No fancy trucks with huge tires, very few large equipment to tend the fields. The shepherd is still tending his flock moving them from place to place. There are still people who live in summer huts to tend to their herds in the mountains. It has been an honor to photograph these people.

The rest of the day was spent touring the different castles in the area. It is amazing how intermarried all the different royalties were from one generation, possibly skipping a generation. I wonder exactly how they were able to produce children that were normal. The castles were as expected with lots of carved woodwork, weaponry rooms, greeting rooms, large dining rooms and lots of dark wood walls. Secret doors lead to different parts of the castle, they said they were in case of raids, but I think lovers must have slipped in and out of these different areas.

The Braun castle and town was a huge tourist area, one could hardly move on the streets and the cues were long getting into the castle. Dracula t-shirts, and “stuff” was everywhere. I was very turned off by the rows of tourist pavilions selling “authentic Romanian crafts” made in China. Had the castle not been interesting, this would have been a huge disappointment. It made me glad to be on our small photography tour in a small van.

We are nearing the end of the trip. It has been a great experience. We are headed back to Cluj in two days.

Day 8

How long has it been since I was in a hot tub? Last night we had to experience the “exclusively ours” hot tub in our room. Why?  Because it was there. Shap pushed every button to get it going, then we both sat down in the redwood cocoon, only to have the water overflow onto the floor. In most circumstances this is not a problem, but the hot tub was on the second floor. Trying to jump out to get towels was another feat as the tub was very deep. I should not have used the word jump, it was more awkward than a jump. Picture one of those cartoons with an old lady stepping with one foot out of the tub and the other hung up on the rim of the tub. The water did not go all the way to the first floor where the bed was, so we did not have to sleep in wet sheets. I think our hot tub days may be numbered.

Off to the baker who brings the loafs of bread out of the oven blackened with the fire. After cooling they beat the charcoal off the bread and then take a belt sander to it, to get the rest of it off. So, the next time you have burned toast, beat it up, then sand it off and everything will be fine. The bread was great with no burned taste.

Into another fortified church in the center of town where we climbed up to the top of the church. The beginning steps were stone, irregular and steep. The passageway was dark and narrow. Going up was not the issue but the thought of free falling down the stone steps was a bit daunting. Then came the ladders which were at only a slight angle, and with a stair tread for a two-year-old. Up and up and up, the ladders went from one platform to another. Open staircases, one misstep and down the tower you would go. As usual, I asked myself “What am I doing here?”

The top of the tower had a roof on it and was about 5.5 feet tall with head whacking beams. The view was worth the climb and the trip down was not as frightening as I had thought. Off to the blacksmith. While everyone crowded in to take pictures of the blacksmith, I spotted wool slippers that his wife had made. Of course what else would a fiber artist do, I made a beeline to her. We discussed the process through sign language, talking about soaping the wool, rubbing it and how long this took. They were very fun and cozy. Shap and I are sporting wool slippers made by a Romanian gypsy.

I thought we were finished with our life cycle, but I can now add an engagement. We were photographing the castle that was featured in the Dracula movie. The sun was setting on it, we were in a park getting our pictures when I happened to notice a couple sitting on the grass. I thought they were having a photo shoot because there were photographers taking their picture. In the middle of shoot, the man pulled out a box with a ring and asked her to marry him. She did not hesitate for a minute. I was able to get shots after the fact.

It was a beautiful day knowing that love still exists in the world. There is hope for humanity in the everyday things we witness.

Day 6/7

Who would have thought you needed a passport to go through a security gate to get into a violin factory? Not only did we have to convince the matron at the gate we were all American and Canadian citizens, but we were under strict instructions to only photograph when told. We all tip toed into the factory imagining that every shot we took might end us up in jail. The reality is, there was only one area we could not take pictures and none of us could figure out what was secret about it.

Who would think making violins would be an exciting photography session, but it was if you were into photographing shapes. The people were friendly, showing us their expertise whether it was sanding, gluing, bending, or finishing… there was a sense of pride in the work. We got serenaded on one of the brand-new violins. Even Barbie has made it to Romania, there was a bright pink violin and guitar just sitting there, ready to be shipped somewhere.

Back in the van, the drive was long. We were promised mist in the morning around the large church that dominated the town we stayed in. Anxious to get the perfect mist picture, we were sorely disappointed to find there was none this morning. After waking up for the dawn patrol, stumbling in and out of the van, to be dumped at the bottom of a steep hill and walking up at top speed, so we did not miss the sunrise, it was all for nothing. The sun took its sweet time rising and then hung around just on the crest of the mountain, not moving and not illuminating the church. Again, the mist has alluded us.

Off to visit the gypsies who make copper. The houses they live in are huge, and I mean huge, but the inside is not necessarily finished. No central heat, and only a dining table with chairs to sit on. It looked VERY uncomfortable. They made copper kitchen pots, had four generations working in the trade. The women are married by 16 and all the marriages are arranged. I brought with me a small pocket size printer where you can print pictures from your cell phone. Everyone loved them and wanted a picture of themselves or with each other. I think it is a fun thing to bring on a trip. It is an ice breaker.

Our leader is so amazing at setting up scenes for us to photograph. He just picks up chairs, has people sit in them, rearranges them, closes windows, open windows, stages them in barns, so the light is just right. We told him, had he gone down to the funeral, he would have asked to corpse to sit up, move to the left or the right. It is fun to watch him, and with his instruction we hope our pictures are successful.

We crossed into Transylvania yesterday, had lunch today at the birthplace of Dracula. Or so they say. We left after a walk around and came to a charming village for the night. Our room has an upstairs with a hot tub, sauna, and cedar cold tub. After settling in for 15 minutes, we took off on a cart pulled by two horses to go up in the mountains to photograph cows, sheep, and goats. The goats were my favorite but there was a tiny lamb that was 2 hours old, he was adorable. He kept trying to walk on his shaky legs. Meanwhile the goats jumped over the fence, ran around, jumped back in and had a merry time acting like just what they were, kids at play.

Day 5

A christening, a wedding, and today a funeral, we have managed to complete a life cycle in Romaina. Driving up the mountain on a curvy road I looked out to see a funeral taking place in the valley below. The wagon was decorated with flowers, people were gathered around, and the horse was waiting nearby, ready to be hitched up.

Jeremy, our instructor, wanted to go down the hillside and join the funeral but our Romanian guide, Daniel, convinced him otherwise. We were all relieved as none of us wanted to intrude. Daniel felt it might be different if it was taking place on a city street. With my telephoto lens I could make out the scene. The priest entered the house, and we could hear music, then out he came ahead of the open coffin. The deceased did have a blanket tucked under his arms with his hands resting together. Everyone stood around in the courtyard while the priest did his thing. There was a gaggle of older ladies standing together and I wished so much that I had a longer lens. I would have loved to get that shot. His head was bare, and I kept thinking someone should put a hat on him so he would not be cold. How ridiculous was that.

A wooden cross was at the head of the coffin with the family name and the date of 1938 when he was born. The priest again said some blessings while two men blew the trambita, a long wind horn used by shepherds to call their flock, very similar to the Alphen horn. The sound was deep and strong echoing throughout the valley. A fitting backdrop to the scene.

We continued our journey, stopping to watch a blacksmith shoe a horse, then on to two churches, one Orthodox and one Catholic. The Catholic ones had grumpy nuns who were quite stern about picture taking. You will enjoy the sign below.

All the paintings look the same throughout the area we have been in. I am told that when you go to theological school, you can choose to become a priest or a painter. You are taught to do the paintings according to tradition. The paintings are put on the side of the churches to teach people about Christianity. The second church is famous for these paintings done in the 1400’s and are still here today.

Tomorrow a long drive…