food – Humanposting

広島: Bending Adversity (2)

city of 300,000

can we forget that silence?

in that stillness

the powerful appeal

of the white eye sockets of the wives and children who did not return home

that tore apart our hearts

can it be forgotten?!

Tōge Sankichi, 1951

It seems only logical to me that places such as Hiroshima, and Nagasaki, are designed to crush your soul in the face of indescribable cruelty and horror with the intention of getting their message across. I thought I knew this by now, and would be able to handle the Atom Bomb museum in Hiroshima, and yet again I found myself weeping before what I saw and learnt.

Hiroshima carries a far greater symbolic meaning in the Japanese psyche. Being the first location of an atom bomb being dropped on people, and with a far larger death toll (140,000 are thought to have died by the end of 1945), Hiroshima stands proudly today as a symbol of exactly what the Japanese way of life is about. Getting back on ones feet. Forgiving, but never forgetting. Rebuilding and reforming, with a mission and a purpose. The peace memorial with its simple grace represents not only the horrors of war and the sacrifice of thousands, but also as a worldwide flagship for peace and a gathering place for movements for the abolishing of nuclear weaponry. The museum is sobering, naturally, it does not hide the truth and is to the point. There are no frills here. Such a message has no time for frills.

It is also here that I learnt that the dropping of the bomb on the 6th of August 1945 also killed hundreds of non-Japanese; among the dead were also southeast asian exchange students, Korean and Chinese immigrants, and even American prisoners of war. The loss of the innocent in times is a result of the hideous nature of such indiscriminate mass murder. And while every day, innocent children, women and men still die every day in less fortunate places, the lessons still don’t seem to have sunk in. War seemed to be an adequate excuse for accidentally vaporising people who bravely bade their time in prisoner camps, only to die at the hands of the ones they serve alongside their enemies, and it still seems to be adequate today. It was all well and good to sentence Nazis to death in Nuremberg in the 50’s, but what is happily brushed under the carpet and excused by wartime circumstances is the unquestionable crime against humanity that is the birth of nuclear weapons.

The famous atom bomb dome on the banks of the Motoyasu river in Hiroshima should stand forever as a painful reminder of what these weapons of mass destruction do to families, cities and nations until nuclear warfare is outlawed and removed from the surface of this planet. If Prometheus was banished to infinite suffering for stealing the secrets of fire, then perhaps a nuclear holocaust is what humanity deserves for trying to meddle with things that they shouldn’t.

A frail olive tree stands in the courtyard of the victim’s memorial, breaking its way through concrete towards the clouds with biblical determination.

The city of Hiroshima lives, just like Nagasaki, reborn and proud. Like every other Japanese city, the people of Hiroshima swamp the shopping streets, pile into pachinko parlours and crowd their local Okonomiyaki shops. This city lives for the future. I cheered myself up with a sushi lunch and followed it up by a trip to the Hiroshima Museum of Contemporary Art – hidden on a forestry hill in the east of the city, where signs literally banned some entrances due to very real danger of the local hornet population.

And on the topic of Okonomiyaki, dinner that night at home greeted me with a portable flat iron sitting on the dinner table – Okonomiyaki, homestyle. I’d eaten enough Okomiyaki in my life and watched enough youtube videos to really impress my host family with my pancake flipping skills, but of course i didn’t admit that.

This is a long post. But it’s an important one. It’s also important to never forget who the real war criminals are, and important to remember that those people will never face trial for their crimes against humanity, and the thousands of innocents who have died in Japan at the hands of these monstrosities will never know justice, only pain and sombre remembrance.

広島と姫路: A Tale of Two Cities

Hiroshima, Mon Amour – the feeling of romance and mystery perhaps wasn’t as strong as in Marguerite Duras’ film as a heavy sky heralded in my arrival to this city, although I avoided the summer rains just long enough to take a quick and wholesome look around the city. Also, someone shouted this blog out on the Oxlove Facebook page, so if you’re the kind poster and you’re reading this, this one’s for you.

I’ll preface this with a disclaimer that I am yet to see the more important and meaningful parts of the city. That is to say, the Atom Bomb museum, Peace Park and the famous Atom Bomb Dome still await me. I think Friday is the day for that. Anyways, yesterday, I got out of Hiroshima station and took a leisurely walk towards Shukkeien and the ruins of Hiroshima Castle. It was still dry, so the Shukkeien Garden was a pleasant if not slightly sweaty time. But in the long line of Japanese-style gardens, this one is also just as hard to fault or dislike.

Hiroshima Castle is described as a ruin on maps and on the internet, although what appeared before me was hardly a ruin. Sure, all the walls weren’t there, and some of the turrets were missing, but it’s easier for me to describe the castle in Kumamoto as a ruin compared to Hiroshima. The entireity of the main keep stood strong, imposing its five stories high above the rest of where the castle used to lie. Naturally it was all destroyed in the blast in 1945, but the reconstruction is so good that one could have thought it had been standing there forever. It’s at this moment that it started raining, and it seemed like a good idea to head back to the station before jumping on a train up to Kabe, where I have been warmly welcomed by the Yoshiokas, my host family until wednesday. My Japanese is really being put to the test now…

We ate, I showered, and went to bed, exhausted from finally being able to set myself down knowing that I didn’t have to move for a while now.

That didn’t last so long however, because at 10 this morning I hopped on a bullet train to Himeji – and and I’d like to sincerely thank whatever powers that be (God, Buddha, Shrek, or some nondescript deity who likes me) for letting the sun poke its shy head through the rainy season’s everlasting fog. I don’t think it would have been appropriate to see Himeji Castle, in six-story brilliant white glory in any other setting than in a blue sky. It doesn’t really need explanation. It’s huge, it’s beautiful, and I couldn’t help grinning like an idiot in awe at what I was witnessing and how lucky I was with the weather.

The accompanying Kōkoen garden was sublime. Probably the most beautiful I have seen. And I can comfortably say, I’ve been to a fair few. It’s crazy how much just a little bit of sunshine can make even small rocks or mossy lawns glow in an entirely mundane yet sublime beauty, one that Sōetsu Yanagi would have probably been infatuated with. I’m also reading his writing at the moment; The Beauty of Everyday Things. It seems appropriate given that I’m getting a lot of rain and am trying my damndest to appreciate things that I can see even if it pours from above.

It’s at this moment that it started raining like crazy, the moment I stepped out on to the platform at Himeji to go back to Hiroshima. It seems that I have made the most of my window of opportunity to experience real beauty, and that window seemed to have shut very abruptly and very timely on me. It seems that the one in charge of the weather thought I deserved a bit of relief.

Tomorrow I have no plans really, although I have a couple of ideas: Either I go to Osaka, or I want to return to Nagasaki to see the things I missed. I’m currently leaning more towards Nagasaki though, I felt like that city really clicked with me, and besides, it doesn’t feel right to give such a large city as Osaka only one day. Maybe that will be for the next time I come to Japan. In any case, who knows what tomorrow will bring ? The least I hope for is dry weather.

鹿児島: Tears in Rain

Being caught in the tail end of a subtropical typhoon wasn’t previously on my bucket list, but I guess that it is now is considering that I have now checked it off. I previously might have mentioned, back in Fukuoka or Kumamoto, that I’d never seen so much rain as I did – my saturday in Kagoshima steals top place on my “rain list” with ease. It felt like it was raining upwards, in the humble words of Forrest Gump. It was that kind of rain where it is more worth getting a taxi to walk a 10 minute walk between station and hotel.

Speaking of hotels, saturday was a bit of a disaster (momentarily). I had left Kumamoto having made a reservation in a little place called Ibusuki, south of Kagoshima city, maybe what I thought was half an hour by train. I swapped out the flashy bullet train for the local, rickety yet endearing local train, but found an entire hour’s journey south on an extremely bumpy ride that I genuinely thought would make me see my breakfast again.

Ibusuki was, and is, no doubt a charming seaside resort. The nearby Ikeda Lake and the hot sand onsens on the beach are a source of local pride, but with a ominous looking horizon and the realisation that the beach resort was miserably empty, run down, and my hostel so unbearably sad that I didn’t have the heart to commit to it. I cancelled my reservation (for free, luckily) and scooted back on the long ride back to Kagoshima city – where the storm hit, and everything turned a sad shade of dark, dark grey.

I was now in Kagoshima station with a deflated morale and no place to stay, so I desperately checked into the cheapest hotel I could find. I spent the rest of the day shut in, and my evening actually allowed me outside into what I quickly realised was the throbbing and packed red light district on a saturday night. I had a great meal, bought some beers in the convenience store and watched Blade Runner (2049) until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Also, I ate horse sashimi. Maybe I’ll get some hate for this, but to me this isn’t a big deal. The horse that suffered momentarily for a part of my dinner last night probably lived a life that was far longer and a hundred times more pleasant than any other livestock animal that is more regularly consumed in our countries. Also, it was delicious, so maybe I’ll be eating Findus lasagnas again soon.

I awoke to a dry morning. Humid and still recovering from being battered by a storm the night before, I found the courage and the motivation to get out into town. I started by going to the aquarium in the harbour. It was fantastic. Aquariums are always special places, but coming off my thoughts on animal cruelty and treatment of animals, the presence of a whale shark in the largest tank, along with some rather sad dolphins that I saw in their tiny “pen” on the way in is an issue that I don’t think escapes criticism.

Small fish, I can understand, because you can give them larger tanks for their size (relatively speaking), but a whale shark doesn’t belong in a tank swimming around endlessly in circles for children to bang the glass and for obnoxious parents to snap flash photos when the signs clearly say to not to. I’m pretty certain that I saw many fish and sea life in the aquarium that seemed blind in one if not two eyes. Bittersweet, and definitely not worth £12, but the magical quality of aquariums is still undeniably alluring.

An aquarium seemed appropriate for the kind of weather that was ongoing. If you’re never sure when it might start pouring again, being inside is best. However, it was looking pretty dry so I decided to hop on the ferry to Kagoshima bay’s crown jewel, Sakurajima – Japan’s most active volcano, and said to be an impressive sight. And it is, even when the peak is shrouded in clouds and smoke. I even got a small ray of sunshine on the island which brought a grateful smile to my tired and slightly hungover face. I walked through the lava formations through the forest, and decided it was time to head back just as it began to drizzle again.

It has been exhausting in these last few days. I never knew that weather could affect me on such a deep level, and yet it has tainted these last few days. But the benefit of this is that I know I’ll come back, if only just to snap the right pictures at the right times so I can crystallise these memories in a better place. I am excited to meet my host family tomorrow, but more so looking forward to have a place to put my bags down finally as I prepare for the last leg of this journey.

熊本: Natural Disasters

The return of the rain to my trip might be pathetic fallacy to match my mood. I feel slightly creatively burnt out, and a little tired even though my spirits aren’t dampened. I want to try my best to update this as frequently as possible, but I think it’s reached that midpoint slump where I kind of miss things. In any case, my last two rainy days in Kumamoto have been interesting to say the least, and my mood is sure to perk up in the coming days as I prepare to meet my host family in Hiroshima on Monday.

I rode the Shinkansen (finally) after leaving Huis Ten Bosch, and I was literally in Kumamoto station in a matter of 30 minutes. Bullet trains are insanely cool. The woman next to me, also going to Kumamoto, agreed with me that it’s a bit like stepping into a spaceship or a teleporter. I immediately went to visit Kumamoto Castle, the stage for the Satsuma Rebellion in 1877 that saw it burnt to the ground. Once again, many years later, this castle listed as one of Japan’s top three is partially devastated. Since 2016 when a 6.2 magnitude earthquake struck Kumamoto prefecture, the castle has been in intense and precise repairs.

It doesn’t take away from the sheer scale of the castle, and the fact that it took a natural disaster of an unnatural scale to shake it to its foundations is impressive. Walls spilling out onto the moats, turrets completely erased and entire gates brought to their knees: one could just as well have been walking into the aftermath of a bloody battle. The cranes and scaffolds that now brace the ailing structure are a keen reminder of how much history this place has seen, and what it means to the people who live in its shadow every day.

It’s at this point that it decided to rain at a biblical scale for my second time during this trip. I barely made it on to the streetcar and back to the hostel, where I shamefully ran across the street later into the station to get some fried chicken for my dinner…

Luckily I woke up to a dry forecast, and decided to pick up where I left off yesterday. The Suizenji Jōjuen garden was in my plans, and it was worth it. Even with the overcast skies, there isn’t really much to complain about with this place. It felt like being in Tellytubby land, the picture will help you better understand what I mean.

Jumping back on the streetcar, almost identical to the ones in Nagasaki and every bit just as unstable, I also wanted to visit the residence of the Hosokawa clan, the last feudal lords of Kumamoto prefecture. Only a short walk away from the castle the estate felt like it would be an ample replacement for having been deprived of the view of Kumamoto Castle in all its glory.

I found it shut, also under scaffolds and tarps… the walls spilling over like water and the wooden structure twisted and splintered. A sorry sight, but a harsh reminder of the volatile environment that is Kumamoto, Kyūshu and Japan in general. The Kumamoto Prefectural Museum of Art had to do instead, with a brief but fascinating history lesson on the resident feudal lords of old.

It was also sad to read online that the famous Kumamoto Oysters that I wanted to try no longer existed in their place of origin. Extinct in Japan due to poor crop management and pollution in the Ariake sea, these delicious little oysters that are world-renowned simply aren’t a thing in Japan.

Arguably a more disappointing episode of this trip. But I have high hopes for my last few days alone, where I will go all the way south to Kagoshima and further, and the finally find myself in Hiroshima, which will be a good place to explore more of Western Honshu. I just hope the weather holds out !

Huis Ten Bosch and Ōmura Bay: The weird and the wonderful

It goes without saying that a name like Huis Ten Bosch doesn’t exactly scream Japanese. Although, given the Dutch’s historic presence in Nagasaki Prefecture, especially on their trading post of Dejima in Nagasaki, it seems to fit in bizarrely well on the shores of Ōmura Bay. A life-scale recreation of the Netherlands, the streets are lined with Amsterdam-esque buildings and churches and canals. It’s an oddity in any case.

This wasn’t really why I came here though, it’s easy enough for to see the real thing for itself, and a £50 entry ticket to a mock Dutch city theme park didn’t sound too appealing. My real quest was to go to the beach, to quote Mr Bean. And what better place to do it than here, in Ōmura Bay where the inland sea dotted with islands would give Thai resorts a run for their scenic money.

In Beppu, and in Nagasaki, and even in Fukuoka, I was disappointed to find that going to the beach doesn’t really seem like much of a thing here. All these locations are seaside, yet as I mentioned yesterday, the sea fronts are laden with concrete walls and car parks. I was greeted at Huis Ten Bosch station by the charming Michi, whose house I am staying in tonight. I have an adorable little Japanese-style room to myself. His house is a little outside of HTB, but he drove me and my rucksack to a small peninsula in the bay where there was a bathhouse, and lo and behold, a beach. An actual sand beach. Sure, it was enclosed, with safety buoys and an ugly sea wall, but there was sand and there was seawater. Don’t get me wrong, I like pools and hot springs, but at heart I’m an ocean kind of guy.

After a brief conversation with the workers, they let me come down onto the beach which they were “preparing” (???) in order so that I could have a swim. I was then left by Michi to my own devices. To clarify, to me beaches in Japan seem to be public but also not public ? They open only after the rainy season (which happens to end next week) only for summer. It’s a bit bizarre, and kind of defeats the purpose for me but it didn’t matter because the smell of salt water on my skin and in my hair was so refreshing and rewarding that all these questions floated away on the gentle swell. It’s not every day you get a beach to yourself.

The beach being officially “closed”, there was no shower. So, I trekked up the hill to the bathhouse to basically spend the rest of the evening soaking and eating and admiring the view of the bay from the outside bath. I had a pretty good late lunch too. With vending machines and even gambling machines, you could literally spend your entire day in the bathhouse and never have to leave.

I was relaxed, drowsy, sated and clean, and I walked back towards the local station that was between the bathhouse/beach and HTB. A walk along the sea where the sun set behind soft clouds and a misty horizon as the day’s heat started to dissipate. The evenings in this kind of weather are surreal and slightly magical with their hazy light.

I met up with Michi again after having grabbed a snack at the HTB Family Mart, in a weird spot outside the theme park where music was blaring for apparently only me, under the massive hotel that looked like it had been ripped straight out of Copenhagen. Weird, to say the least. I am going to relish this night’s sleep in my own room before I head out to Kumamoto tomorrow morning.

Goodnight.

別府: Steam City

My apologies for not posting a blog last night, I needed a bit of rest. It’s been moving extremely fast since the start, and coming to the hot spring town of Beppu seemed an appropriate place to let off some steam (pun intended).

Beppu lies on the northeastern coast of Kyūshu, in a shielded bay. I got here relatively late in the day yesterday from Nagasaki, but Beppu being a spa destination for Japanese tourists, I was in no mood to rush. Beppu’s springs are historically known for their mineral-rich waters, and the sick and ailing from all over Japan were known to come to this location to benefit from the healing properties of the water. It seems like this heritage lives on, as I spied a great many wheelchairs, zimmer frames and walking sticks on my way out of the station, all with the same hopeful gleam in their eyes.

Baggages dropped, I decided to go to the Kannawa Onsen (the centre of Beppu’s onsen activity and the most widely-known). It was a pretty long bus ride away, and I was surprised to find the streets completely empty. I wanted to visit the Jigoku Onsen, the “Five Hells”; water pools where boiling hot mineral water bubbles to the surface in a furious boil. I was annoyed, and disappointed, to find them closed… However, I did benefit from a free “foot onsen” that is common around this area. Steam literally pours from the ground here, and the bathhouses on every street corner are not shy to advertise that their baths are the best in all the onsen.

I returned back towards where my hostel was. The Takegawara bathhouse might not be the most luxurious bathhouse in town, but it is certainly one of those with the most charm, and also the most highly recommended in Beppu. Although before, I wanted to catch the sunset on the seaside – and I did. It was beautiful, and the bay was as slick as oil, but the stern seafront with its seawalls and lack of beaches was slightly disheartening. It strikes me now that the reasons for this are the constant threat of tsunamis from the deep sea, hence Beppu’s concrete seafront.

Back to Takegawara, I’d forgotten just how hot onsen are. Scorchingly hot, and a completely different sensation to anything else, being almost completely submerged. I was used to saunas, and in my mind these were not so different – I lasted 10 minutes at most, and was in the water at 3 separate intervals broken up by splashings of cold water and a spinning head. However, it seemed that this was the trend for all the local visitors too: arrive, wash, get in the water, get out, rinse, leave. I admit the bone-deep feeling of relaxation post-onsen is unparalleled… And for a mere 100 Yen, who can say no ?

My body as limp as a drunkard’s, I found myself eating dinner first in a small Izakaya (like a pub) followed by a sushi bar, where I was bought drinks and some sushi by some nice guys at the bar… my sleep was indescribable.

My plan the next say was to rent a bike at Beppu’s Giant store, get on a local train and cycle the Kunisaki peninsula and discover the temples and shrines lost in the deep volcanic forests. I found the store to be closed only on Tuesdays, and I was very irritated. A sad McDonald’s later (comfort food), I plucked up the courage to get on a different train to Usuki, the site of the Usuki Sekibutsu – stone-carved Buddhas. I picked up a bike for free at the station, so in sum, my day wasn’t that much of a failure after all.

A sweaty bike ride through the old samurai town of Usuki later, a small museum and hillside greets me. The restored, and preserved, Buddhas sit proudly and mysteriously overlooking the countryside. Said to have been carved in the late Heian Period (794-1185), these stone Buddhas are the only ones in Japan to be bestowed the title of National Treasure. It was moving, and I would have stayed provided that I wasn’t dying for a shower and a glass of water.

My bike and I floated back towards Usuki on the breeze in the late afternoon glow. Back in Beppu, a different bathhouse awaited me, of which’s temperature was considerably more manageable. My supermarket dinner was sat happily in the fridge, and I sit here now, belly full, and the satisfaction of knowing not to have entirely wasted these two days.

A city where steam billows from the streets and hot water seeps from cracks in the rocks; one where people know the meaning of calm. A sleepy, seaside city that in my mind only has the place of rest and recuperation – Beppu, until next time.

Expect blogs every day from now.

長崎: Bending Adversity

“If the radiance of a thousand suns

Were to burst at once into the sky

That would be like the splendour of the Mighty One…

I am become Death,

The destroyer of worlds.”

As Robert Oppenheimer quoted the Bhagavad Gita upon witnessing the first successful test of the world’s first atomic bomb on July 15th 1945, little did he know how true those ancient and earth-shattering words would ring come August of the same year. And it is these words, and Oppenheimer’s sad realisation at his monstrous creation, that have been with me today as I walked the streets of Nagasaki. A sobering and humbling afternoon to put it simply.

The train ride from Hakata did not prepare me for what I was about to experience. The atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki are casually swept over in history class at school, always presented as the final victory and grand finale of the theatre of the Second World War. The reality is much different. The Nagasaki Atomic Bomb museum (原爆資料館) is only a couple of charming streetcar stops away from the station where my hostel is located, and the elegant and to-the-point museum is poignant and brutally blunt. It would have been impossible for me to have been in Kyūshu without coming face to face with the suffering and loss that was experienced here in Nagasaki. I wept for the 75,000 that were vaporised instantly in front of the testimonies of the survivors.

Testimonies of children who buried their mothers, husbands who buried their wives, and sisters who buried their brothers. The inhumanity of such an attack is unspeakable. I can only give credit to the museum for rightfully bringing me (and others) to tears over this act, not to mention over the thousands more who died in the years afterwards.

But it is the resilience of Nagasaki, and of the Japanese people in general, that struck me the most. The will to carry on, to never give up, something that I picked up on vaguely many years ago in David Pilling’s Bending Adversity (read it, it’s incredible). The beautiful peace park that follows the museum, and the sombre memorial to the dead along with the preserved hypocenter (ground zero) along a beautiful little canal, is testament to how much this city is committed to preventing conflict and to moving on upwards from disaster. It’s heartwarming to walk these lively and upbeat streets today knowing that underneath them lay a nuclear wasteland of suffering only 73 years ago. I anticipate to find very much the same thing when I get to Hiroshima in a week.

The will to carry on. That is what I have managed to summarise Nagasaki, Japan’s historical cultural front to the world and a beacon of hope and strength in the south of a once war-ridden country, in one short day. An impression that genuinely made me appreciate sitting in front of my kaisendon on the quayside tonight.

I pray (using the term loosely) that my generation, my brothers’ generations and those to come never have to experience the horrors of war that I have seen today. I will leave this city tomorrow more grateful for my life and grateful to be living in security than I was before I stepped off the train this morning.

I implore you all – those who are reading this – to go tonight to the Nagasaki Atomic Bomb museum’s English site and read for yourselves what you weren’t taught in GCSE history.

“What passing bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifle’s rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers, nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill demented choirs of wailing shells,
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes,
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall,
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each, slow dusk a drawing down of blinds.”

Wilfred Owen, The War Poems (1917)

梅雨: Rain Season

As per the title, it rained today. And by rain, I mean torrential. I can’t think of another time when i’ve been under so much of it, and I guess I paid for not being more aware of this Japanese seasonal oddity. For my last day in Fukuoka, I can’t say there was much more on my list I had to see. Yet, there were a couple of things that remained, and the rain only added a more magical and surreal feeling to where I went.

Following on from last night’s conclusion, I did go out in town to experience a bit of the nightlife – the banks of the Naka river, lined with their characteristic yatai (food stalls) glowed with a homely feel in the darkness below the neon lights of the Nakasu district. Heaving with people and the thick smell of pork broth, a Tonkotsu ramen was in order. Accompanied with chicken heart yakitori skewers. And a beer (of course). Although surprisingly, this turned out to be one of my more expensive meals yet, it was hard to fault the deliciousness of my dinner. Youtube channels and tripadvisor had strongly recommended these places as unique social places, and had warned about the touristy price of food here, it felt good to tick off one of Fukuoka’s most iconic things to experience before I left. I can’t say that it was as social as was sold to me, as the constant turnover of people meant it was quite difficult to strike up a conversation, besides the fact that everyone I try to talk to only wants to practice their English, making conversation quite clunky as I desperately try to force them to speak Japanese to me.

That aside, I wound up in quite a nice bar, filled with businessmen and businesswomen getting their drinks for the evening. I paid 500 Yen for a glass of sake (my first), and to describe it concisely: strong, fruity, and ice cold. Although I did wake up with an unfamiliar feeling in my stomach and many bizarre dreams. Maybe I can’t stomach it, who knows. At least now though, I will know what sake is like.

As I mentioned, I woke up to rainfall like I’d never believed was possible. I still got on the train to Nanzōin, about 20 minutes east. This is a tiny little town, at its centre in the hills of cedar trees a giant reclining bronze Buddha, said to be the largest bronze statue in the world. Less spectacularly however, and quite amusingly, is that it was built in 1995 by a monk who apparently won the lottery. But this in no way takes away from the sheer scale and awe-inspiring statue. Perhaps it doesn’t quite have that more venerable quality as the Nara Buddha does, but the size is enough to impress any visitor. And under the pouring rain, his serene smile seemed to mock me as I stood under my pathetic Seven-Eleven umbrella in my soaked Reeboks taking photos on my blurry iPhone.

The rest of the temple complex is buried deep in the forest, through steep winding stone paths lined with torii gates and incense altars. The warm smell of incense and damp earth drowned out the rivers of rainwater that cascaded over the path, but the climb was worth it perhaps not for the very small shrine, but for the backdrop of looming cedars in the light of storm clouds. And being completely alone apart from a couple of distressed hornets who had made their home in the shrine, perfectly quiet calmness fills one up in this tiny, lost little place.

I wanted to stop in the Sasaguri forest on the way back, where there was supposed one of the most picturesque walks and forest in all of Kyūshu, but as you can imagine, the weather and my socks had other ideas.

I found myself once again in Tenjin station, somewhat with a pleasant feeling of closure and yet with a comfortable feeling that there was more for me here to discover. My day couldn’t have felt any more spiritual if the landlady hadn’t offered me some fried chicken and a glass of beer as she ate with her family beside me in the hostel.

It’s been a great first stop in my Japanese journey. Tomorrow, Nagasaki calls.

大濠公園

Another incredible day has passed, and yet I have only been in Asia for a week, let alone in Japan for 2 days. It feels like I’ve been here forever but I have seen so little. A relatively quiet day to say the least, I spent it walking around the port and fish market areas, and ending it in one of my new favourite parks in the world; Ōhori Park. And I also wasted about 1,500 Yen on a new battery and film for my camera to see if it might fix the problem. It didn’t. My irritation is indescribable and my wallet hates me.

As I mentioned, I sweatily furrowed around the local Bic Camera superstore in Tenjin in search of a 3V battery, which is notoriously hard to find. I exit the store, relieved, thinking my issues to be over only to find that the insufferable beeping of my camera is still there and the lens refuses to come out of the body. New film changed nothing either.

Sadness aside, My mission was to get to the fish market. I had read that you aren’t exactly allowed inside the actual market apart from on only 1 day of each month, but obviously I hadn’t checked so I just went anyway. Naturally, I got lost. Or to be more specific, I was too intimated by the security guards at the entry to the market so I just carried on nonchalantly. As if a tall white European boy could ever look inconspicuous whilst randomly strolling through Nagahama… This actually took me on a nice detour to the port, where I attracted several strange looks from a woman walking out of her house and an old man on a bike who cycled past me. The Seven-Eleven’s wifi allowed me to then rack up the courage to walk back to the market with actual directions, where I found the restaurant I was looking for, and what followed was perhaps the best kaisendon I’d ever have in my life.

For a mere 1,080 yen (£7.56). I’d not had sea urchin in many, many years, and it is just one of the most incredible flavours on this good earth. Not to mention the generous assortment of tuna, yellowtail amberjack and baby squid. 10/10. Market food is the greatest, freshest, cheapest way to experience proper Japanese seafood.

After picking up a bag of chips and an ice-cold Asahi, I made my way down to what is undoubtedly the most magnificent spot in all Fukuoka; Ōhori Park and the Fukuoka castle ruins. Also preceded by a tiny little Japanese garden sandwiched between the ruins and Ōhori Park. I have never seen so many dragonflies in one place at one time.

Ōhori Park is a large lake. It has a couple of islands that stretch across the middle of it, joined together by bridges, so the very middle of the lake makes for a very relaxing afternoon spot to sit in the shade surrounded by turtles, ducks, and a healthy serving of middle-aged joggers. It makes sense that this is one of the most photogenic places in this city. Crystal-clear blue waters under a blue sky on a hot July day is a recipe for any perfect picture, but on top of that a perfect place to lie down and catch a quiet breath from the ever-moving Japanese city life.

Tonight, I think I shall go out. I want to go out in town at night, and see what it’s like to live this city after hours. I might even swing by the park again later – it’s not like I’m about to catch a cold by being outside anyways.

日本: The Return

I am back. That’s the overriding feeling in my heart at the moment. I am back in a country that my love for is certainly no new thing, and will undoubtedly be strengthened every time I come back in the future. I am back, but in reality I was back yesterday although I definitely needed those 18 hours of sleep… my apologies for skipping out a day. Put it to a combination of very little sleep during my journey here and a hearty lunch of tonkotsu ramen, gyōza and a beer. In any case, I think I made the most of yesterday and today:

For those who don’t know, Fukuoka sits on the northwestern coast of Japan’s most southern island, Kyūshu. Similarly to my situation upon arriving in Hanoi, check-in at my accommodation was later on in the day. This meant that when I arrived in Fukuoka at 8, I was going to be on my feet for all the day until check-in, which I was overjoyed about. I turned up at the hostel before it opened. Therefore I grabbed a quick breakfast of fried chicken and rice at the Family Mart which is literally 1 minute from this place. I dumped my ungainly bag and rucksack with the nice Korean man at the desk and set off. I had a map, a one-day subway pass and rusty Japanese: the city was my oyster.

I head east, and in the vague direction of what my map tells me is a temple and accompanying park. I find it, and find myself completely and utterly alone. I thought this was weird but it was a bit early (very early) when I was walking around. There is nothing more I like than walking around aimlessly with a map in a new city. The temple complex was wonderful. Incredibly serene. There wasn’t a soul in the vicinity. Hall after hall, I roamed what turned out to be the Shofuku-ji Temple of Hakata Old Town until I had seen all of it. It made me fondly remember Hanoi’s Temple of Literature. Soft, muted and discreet, these wooden temples calm the soul. It must be wonderful to worship in these places. A Japanese zen garden and paper shoji doors are unbeatable though (sorry Vietnam).

A short walk away was the Kushida-jinja Shrine. I’ll describe by photos. What really hit hard however, was the proximity in which the two separate yet parallel religions of Buddhism and Shintoism exist. It hammered home the syncretic and habitual nature of religion in Japan; salaraymen on their lunch breaks, schoolchildren, old ladies, couples etc. all pop through for a quick prayer. Religion doesn’t seem particularly religious. It is more habit and tradition. It’s beautiful and harmonious to see the fluid and casual nature of worship in this country, as Michiko Maekawa describes it (Maekawa, 2004). See my dissertation for more on this subject (Chatriot, 2020 – to be written).

After I wolfed down a bowl of ramen as aforementioned and a completely unnecessary beer (the necessity being debatable), I was slammed hard in the face by exhaustion. I checked in to the hostel, climbed up into my little capsule bed, and crashed.

I woke up naturally. I actually am finding more and more than I despise this sensation. My plan was to 1) eat 2) go to the Sumiyoshi Shrine 3) get on a train to see the Dazaifu Tenmangu Shrine. All of these were completed. The Sumiyoshi Shrine is a delightful little shrine in the middle of this bustling metropolis, and the attached Rakusuien garden is just as soothing as any Japanese garden. Walking through the urban temples and shrines accompanied by the chirping of cicadas and the smell of damp cedar wood trees is a slightly surreal experience that I am struggling to come to terms with, as I’m not entirely sure the fact that I am where I am has set in yet.

A short train ride away is Dazaifu. A small touristy town with the self-titled shrine, the train ride emphasises the seemingly-infinite Japanese suburbia that is only broken up by the hills surrounding Fukuoka. I was blessed by the sun poking its head through the blanket of clouds that shrouds Japan during the rainy season, and the balmy 27°C and the breeze made even iPhone pictures look good. Also my film camera seems to have stopped working. I think the battery is dead and I curse it for doing this to me today of all days. I went up the hills to find a small shrine that I assume most tourists did not know about. A hidden gem for sure.

A successful two days. I’ll probably go to bed a normal time tonight, and maybe eat 5 different packs of instant noodles from the Family Mart (because they’re awesome, duh). I saw a hornet today and it rightfully put me in its place as I tried to take a shortcut to a little shrine. I won’t make the succeeding entries as long as this, but this is a two-day gig. I can also confirm that I have readership in 2 different countries thanks to blogspot’s stats tool, so I’m glad to see that at least someone is reading this. I hope it gives you as much pleasure as it does me.