Wanna see a grown man cry?

Bidding farewell to our octogenarian taxi driver (and hoping he made it home in one piece) we head towards what we think is our hotel only to find ourselves in the middle of a children's 'festival'. Hundreds of them, all between one and six, belting around the place with all manner of bells and whistles, music, parents, siblings and a lot of racket. The noise level is deafening. I'm searching around for what looks like a hotel lobby when a lovely guy comes up and I say Yumeoi-so, ??? And he's smiling and nodding and directing us through the throngs of children and parents to, oh no, this can't be happening: a reception desk. PC says, did Trip Advisor say anything about 'good for children'? Did three nights of heaven just became three nights of hell? We are so pooped we have no choice but to hand over the credit card and get to our room, and hot tub. Open the wine and slid straight in, with a perfect view of Mt Aso, rumbling in the distance and saying hello to us with puffs of white smoke (also know as highly deadly sulphur type shit that would kill you instantly, but for the story we're going with the romantic theme).

Now pleasantly lulled by the vino and hot spring water we make out way to a little restaurant around the corner where, to our delight, we discovered goyza and Japanese fried chicken (nothing like carbs to improve one's temperament). We also are introduced to the owner who speaks great English, and owns a Lamborghini which is parked inside said restaurant (obviously his pride and joy). He's as proud as punch and insists we hop in for a photo shoot. Chatting away we tell him of the lost license and lack of car and immediately he is on the phone organising a driver for the next day. Wonderful we think. Not all lost. Back we go to the hotel feeling excited about the next day and to top it off, have been advised by the staff that the children's festival is over for another year. They've all gone home. Winners! Things are looking up.Read more