The landmarks are there: the leather bag, carried by hand, the benevolent smile, the glasses and the loose hair… Philippe Gougler returns on board his “Trains like no other” for seven episodes, all the more awaited that the renewed interest in rail holidays is confirmed. After the launch, Thursday July 6, of the thirteenth season in the Indonesian islands of Sulawesi and Java (to be reviewed on France.tv), direction, Thursday July 13, Hokkaido, in the north of the Archipelago, at the coldest of in winter, just to cool off.
Copied, declined – “Au bout c’est la mer”, on mythical rivers -, but not yet equaled, the concept remains unchanged: travel the world on rail, talking with passengers met more or less by chance. To which are added marginal developments (guarantees of the longevity of the program), such as the more systematic use of drones.
However, when in Aomori, by -20°C, the journalist pushes open an old wooden door to enter an ugly little station in search of a “train with a potbellied stove”, we fear that Philippe Gougler slips from originality to the anecdote. Before being convinced by the sincerity of the passengers. This train, where you eat grilled octopus while drinking sake, is part of the Japanese identity.
“The strong taste in the mouth is to be savored”, explains a passenger with a pearl beret. However, in Japan, traditions are sacred, while coexisting in harmony with modernity – as, we will see later, rigor with fun. Philippe Gougler winces: “Arigato gozaimasu [“thank you very much”]…”
Railway modernity
Railway modernity is the Shinkansen, the world’s first high-speed train, put into service in 1964, well before the arrival of the French TGV in 1981. The Japanese are so proud of it that its line is dotted with checkpoints. observation so that amateurs can photograph it. “We love trains,” says one, freezing cold as he waits for the slender nose to appear. This requires staying focused. However, Philippe Gougler addresses it: “Konnichiwa [“hello”]! »
It’s hard to resist his disarming naturalness, mixed with a slight Pierre Richard side: whether he’s trying to walk in 1.50 meters of snow or sit cross-legged. Around the family table on the farm, as in the trains, he entertains his audience. “I’m laughing because a handsome guy is watching me,” even a single girl tells him.
Change of scenery in Hakodate, a town further north, swept away by a storm. But in Japan, a storm has never stopped even a small, yellow train from arriving on time. Philippe Gougler will discover the gesticulating secret of this punctuality before joining Sapporo, Olympic city of the Winter Games, in 1972, renowned for the quality of its powder snow, called “crystal powder”.
And if the battle of molded snowballs will not leave an imperishable memory for everyone, many will fall, on the other hand, under the spell of the almost unreal landscape of Lake Shikaribetsu, in the extreme north of the island, taken by the ice, dotted with igloos and enveloped in steaming wisps… “The onsen [“hot springs”] are a long tradition and a place of socialization,” a bather explains seriously. On his head sits a towel folded in four, a little ridiculous. The Japanese paradox incarnate.