Parcly Taxel: Swathes of snow were just what I got when I left the bed-and-breakfast. It was creaking softly under my hooves, exposing a thin film of firmer ice which melted soon afterwards. With daylight intensifying, this metamorphosis proceeded to transform my surroundings into a more comfortable scene - first the streets where carriages ran, then the pavements and finally the buildings. Yes, Diamond, I have this problem with bright lights and loud sounds.
Saddlebags packed, I then galloped my way to Lake Toya, some 170 kilometres away on the smoothest route along Hokkaido’s southern coast. My clopping hooves were set against a wonderful backdrop of rural Japan: forested hills with leafless trees, snow-capped volcanos, wind turbines and solar panels all co-existing.
Spindle: It is well-known that ponies tend to settle more in coastal or valley regions and less in mountainous regions. Japan is a rather extreme example where “mountainous” is almost synonymous with “interior”, forcing all the agriculture onto its densely populated coasts. Parcly was going on a wide road between these two environments but closer to the hills, where she could feel breezes of clean air through her slightly open feathers.
Parcly: Mesmerised by the landscape, I did not notice the lake itself until reaching the eponymous town of Toyako. The lake, which lies in a caldera (a hole formed from the collapse of a volcano’s magma chamber), has never frozen over, which allows a ferry to operate year-round between its shore and a large island in its middle. (There are a few smaller islands.)
Spindle: This topography was made all too clear at lunchtime where Parcly received a rice bowl with a small egg yolk in its middle representing the islands, beef strips around it arranged as circling water currents. “They only make ten of these a day,” I noted.
“But this restaurant has so few diners that it’s plausible they might not reach the tenth bowl,” Parcly replied. “In fact, there’s only a trickle of ponies visiting any particular place here on a given day.” We walked to the lakeshore and saw our reflections, then glimpsed a small ice cream house…
Parcly: …at which I dashed to without prior notice. Foodwise, Hokkaido is known within Japan for its dairy products, with lots of milked cows, and those visiting the island may buy such products as a souvenir. After finishing two double-scoop cones (and with Spindle feeling like a fireplace), the sky was already midnight blue, so we pulled into a lakeside resort.
Spindle: Here then is one of Japan’s most treasured venues, the onsen (public bath). I only need to elaborate on one of the pools Parcly entered, which is semicircular with floating apples; the condensing mist and apple scent are therefore mixed together to mimic the smell of burning wood.
Parcly: When I settled down with my hooves on the bottom, I felt as if my lower body was subliming, ready to be pulled through my bottle’s long and sensual neck. As long as my eyes were open, I remained solid; as soon as I closed them and sat back, I lost all control.
Stimulatory magic coursed through all my tissues, tightening them as a black hole accretes matter into a disc. I did not give resistance, and the burden of thought left me as a rocket to space. Denser and lighter, denser and lighter, these opposing forces persisted, until I was fully immersed in my dreamscape.
Spindle: You’ve just given a complete and accurate description of the bottling process, which is amazing! Back to reality: although your bottle wasn’t around, you conjured it in the hot water and pulled yourself in, so I released you in the resort’s buffet dinner.
Parcly: Ah, that’s where my memory returns. It’s convention that an onsen session is followed by a meal, so I brought myself back to earth with multiple servings of tasty treats from all over the world, including Japan. I do have a very high metabolic rate like Twilight, though, so after I was finished I teleported back into my bed, where I felt the same tingling of my hind legs…