Kyushu

Kyushu Adventure, part 4

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鹿児島・屋久島

Kagoshima & Yakushima

March 2018

Tokyo has recently joined the other cities of the world in self-imposed isolation as the Cold of the Century sweeps its way across humanity. While nobody alive today will ever be able to forget this event, it won’t be with the same “where were you?” immediacy of the Kennedy assassination or the September 11th attacks. Because the answer to that question, of course, would simply be “stuck at home, like everybody else.”

Rather, the question we’ll ask each other of the coronavirus pandemic of 2020 will be “so what the heck were you up to that whole time?” To which I will answer: cleaning my apartment, playing too much MarioKart, and finally getting around to updating my picture blog.

It’s my pleasure to present, two entire years after the fact, the conclusion to the 4-part visual journal of my March 2018 trip around the southern Japanese island of Kyushu.

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When we last left off, I had just done nothing but bathe for several days in the remote onsen towns of Unzen and Kurokawa. After fighting off a brief cold in my layover city of Kumamoto, of which I saw very little, I kept on schedule and caught a train all the way down to Kagoshima, the beautiful costal city on the southernmost tip of Kyushu.

I spent my first several hours lazing around the marina area, which features a wide park with a shopping center, gorgeous views of the ocean liners coming and going, and an inner canal where I was lucky enough to snap a few pics of a dolphin show in progress.

Later that afternoon, one of my hostel’s recommended hikes took me up a nearby mountain at sunset, which offered a panoramic view of the Kagoshima city center as well as Sakurajima, the large active volcano which sits—some might say looms—just across the bay.

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Sakurajima happened to be erupting while I was there. Just a little bit. For the Kagoshima locals, it was business as usual.

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The following morning, I hopped on a 2.5-hour hydrofoil ferry ride that brought me to the shores of what would immediately become one of my most favorite places on this green earth, the island of Yakushima.

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My nickname for Yakushima is “Adventure Island,” which may sound a little juvenile, but perfectly describes the boyhood thirst for adventure that this landscape evokes. If there’s an outdoor activity you love, chances are Yakushima has it, and in a setting as gorgeous and unspoiled as they come on this planet. The entire island was designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1993. Heck, the picture above was just the view from my hotel room.

The outdoor sport I live for is kayaking, and it was just my luck that there was a kayak rental dock right below my hotel. It was also just my luck that two different school groups had reserved every single kayak for both days I was there. It’s fine, really. It doesn’t look like those kids were having any fun, anyway.

One activity I made sure to do was the hike to the Jōmon Sugi, a giant ancient cedar which lies at the heart of Yakushima’s primeval forest. It’s named after Japanese prehistory, the Jōmon period, and is truly that old, with age estimates starting at 2,170 years on the low end to well over 7,000. It reaches over 25 meters in the air with a trunk 16 and a half meters in circumference. It’s a sort of pilgrimage destination, a living connection to the very beginnings of Japan. It’s also an 8-hour round-trip hike that requires a 4:00am wake-up call, so those that know me well can tell that this is some serious business.

The first half of the hike to the tree was along a well-maintained wooden walkway, curving a path along the mountain slopes while never challenging with more than a gentle incline. The walkway ended at a small rest area, where a sign warned of the rugged terrain ahead. I ate the box lunch my hotel had prepared for me that morning, cursed myself for lugging along an extra 3 kilos of camera gear, and headed onward.

Every step moved me deeper and deeper into the dense primeval forest. Tangled roots curled in and out of the dense earth. Trees grew up out of the fallen trunks of older trees, themselves grown out fallen trees older still. Green and blue moss covered the trees and rocks, dampening the ambient sounds, casting a still silence all around. Director Hayao Miyazaki famously took inspiration from the forests of Yakushima for Princess Mononoke, and if there’s any place in the world where you can feel the spirits around you, it’s within these woods.

At long last, in the middle of the endless forest stands the Jōmon Sugi. It’s tough to truly appreciate the scale of this massive tree in just the photo below, but even a quick look at its thick and gnarled wood is enough to testify that this is a being remnant of an ancient age.

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Having paid my respects to this ancient wonder, I began the 4-hour trek back out of the forest, snapping a few more photos on the way, having since forgiven myself for bringing along my unnecessarily heavy camera.

I don’t remember much else from that day, which leads me to believe that I went out to eat, had a cold beer, a warm bath, and a very, very deep sleep.

I kept things a little more domestic for my second full day on the island. I woke up late, had my hopes dashed again by school kids taking up all the kayaks, and visited a bright little cafe for lunch. I walked up to a small shrine perched on a hill above town, and I stayed there for a while to watch the clouds roll in over the mountains. I hiked along the coast for an hour or two, no particular destination in mind, climbing through rocky cliffs to find some hidden tide pools. I felt like I had the entire island to myself.

Before I knew it, it was time for dinner, an early night to bed, and a very early ferry ride back to Kagoshima to catch the train all the way up the East coast of Kyushu to the onsen city of Beppu. For reasons I can no longer remember, I have no pictures from my final two nights there before returning to Tokyo. Which is all the best, as they were mostly spent soaking my tired body in the hot springs (and taking the famous “sand bath,” in which a little old lady buried me up to my neck in hot sand for a seemingly eternal 15 minutes… a story for another time).

In lieu of Beppu pics, below are two more of Yakushima to close this series out.

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Two full years have passed since I traveled to Kyushu. I often think of its warm and friendly people, its many unique urban landscapes, its palpable sense of deep history, its beautiful forests and coasts, and its hidden hot spring destinations tucked away within its mountains. I was considering a brief to return to Yakushima this April during the Golden Week holidays in a bid to finally get my chance on one of those kayaks, but recent world events have made those plans much less likely. Which is a shame, because dark and uncertain times like these are exactly when we need to remember that beautiful places still exist in the world, and will be waiting for us on the other side.

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Kyushu Adventure, part 3

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雲仙・黒川

Unzen & Kurokawa

March, 2018

My great love here in Japan is not a woman, nor the cuisine, nor the ancient aesthetic culture, but onsen—the natural hot springs.

Everything about them is magical. There are hot spring areas all over the Japanese archipelago. In fact, this country is so volcanically active, it’s said that if you dig down 1000 meters just about anywhere, you can create your own hot spring (my landlord has not let me try this, however). Each onsen is connected to its natural and cultural surroundings in unique ways—some are hidden within dense, wooded mountains with autumn leaves or winter snow drifts, others on the rocky shores of the sea, or next to a foggy lake, or along a rolling river where the sounds of water enhance the sense of communion with the environment as you soak.

Leaving Nagasaki, I took a bus out to the nearby onsen area of Unzen. The whole town smelled of sulfur, as it’s pretty much built right on top of the piping-hot natural springs themselves—the jikoku (literally, hell—pictured below). Thankfully, the pipes cool the water considerably as its being pumped to the hotel baths. Sulfur baths are milky white, and feel amazing. For obvious reasons, bringing a camera into the baths themselves isn’t allowed, but hopefully you can get a sense of the surrounding areas.

Unzen also has quite the ignoble history. The scalding, sulfurous water was used to torture Jesuit missionaries in the 16th century after Christianity was banned in Japan. Did you see Martin Scorcese’s adaptation of Silence? Go watch Silence. Anyway, that’s all long past, and now there’s a famous red brick church (not pictured), as well as stone memorial dedicated to the Christian martyrs among the steaming springs.

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The next stop on my journey was yet another onsen spot: Kurokawa. The name translates literally to “Black River,” and is home to a quaint little village tucked within the mountains, that as far as I could tell, is comprised entirely of onsen hotels. This was overall perhaps my favorite onsen area to date. So many gorgeous and varied baths within a short walk of each other (there was one in a cave!), the food was excellent, there was a great little café where I had coffee and mochi, and in addition to the wide open-air bath, my hotel also had a number of private baths, each with its own unique style. It was paradise.

Next up: part 4. Kagoshima and Yakushima—the final leg of my 2018 Kyushu trip.

Kyushu Adventure, part 2

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九州の独り旅

Nagasaki & Battleship Island

March, 2018

After recovering from a hard-drive close call, continuing to suffer the slings and arrows of a job-hunt in Tokyo, and procrastinating more than a little, I’m finally back to log some more of my 2018 trip around Kyushu. What I expected to be a 3-part series will now be 4, because it’s my blog and who’s going to stop me?

Nagasaki was the next big stop after Fukuoka. My first day there was rainy and overcast, which made the city no less beautiful, but cast a pale that felt strangely fitting for my first day’s activities. After checking into my room in the hostel, which had a lovely view over the Nakashima River, I walked a ways up the valley to visit the atomic bombing memorials and museum. The famous 10-meter-tall Peace Statue features some interesting symbolism: right hand points toward the threat of nuclear weapons, the left toward eternal peace, the right leg folded in meditation, and the left planted firmly to the earth, ready to stand to rescue it’s people.

Two other famous symbols of the city: Meganebashi, or “Spectacles Bridge,” named for the reflection it casts on the river, and the less explicably named “Turkish Rice,” which is Nagaski’s answer to the Garbage Plate: spaghetti and meat sauce, hamburger, a pork cutlet with demi-glace, rice, and salad (100 yen coin for scale—roughly the same size as a quarter).

The next day was gorgeous and sunny. I woke up early and walked to the bay to take a tour boat over to Hashima, otherwise known as Battleship Island for its distinct profile. Here it is through the smudgy boat window:

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Hashima is worth a Wikipedia search. It used to be a dense and prosperous coal mining city, with its own school and supermarket and even a bowling alley and movie theater. Once the coal was depleted, everyone moved back to the mainland, and the island city fell into disrepair until fairly recently when conservation efforts began and parts of the grounds opened for tours. It’s haunting and beautiful—like visiting the ruins of an ancient city (if ancient means the 1970s, which I’m sure it does to some people reading this).

Returning to the bay, we were greeted by the docking of the Quantum of the Seas, an absolutely monstrous cruise ship.

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I spent the rest of my day hiking from one side of the bay to the other. I first went up the south mountains where there’s a European architectural influence (Nagaski being one of the few ports not closed to foreign trade prior to the 1800s), including the Glover Garden, built by a Scottish merchant.

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There were also a few views like this:

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From there, I hiked down through China Town. I arrived two days late for the famous Lantern Festival, but at least got to watch them take some of it down.

Then it was across the bay and up the mountains on the other side, which I was told has a world’s-best 360° sunset and night view.

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Yeah… they sure weren’t lying about the view:

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Next up, a post a fraction of the size of this monster—featuring the hot springs towns of Unzen and Kurokawa.

Kyushu Adventure, part 1

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九州の独り旅

Kita-Kyushu, Fukuoka, Yanagawa

March, 2018

Exactly one year has passed since I took my three-week sojourn around Kyushu, the southernmost of Japan’s four main islands. I took advantage of the expansive Spring school holidays in Japan, lasting from the end of January to early April for Sophia University students, and figured correctly that—at 33 years old—this may be my last break this long for quite a while. Naturally, I brought my camera, taking hundreds upon hundreds of pictures along the way, which is a contributing factor as to why it’s taken me a full 365 days to post any of them.

There are just so many interesting scenes to share that I’m going to break this up into three posts. This first post covers my first two stops: Kita-Kyushu and Fukuoka.

Kita-Kyushu (formerly Kokura), like my hometown of Pittsburgh, is famed for its steel production. I learned, rather morbidly, that for that reason it was the original target of the “Fat Man” atomic bomb in 1945. Luckily for Kita-Kyushu—and tragically for Nagasaki—the weather was too cloudy on the day of the bombing to get a visual target.

After the war, the region’s steel production would begin to undercut that of the US. As it turned out, this was one major factor in the economic decline of Pittsburgh in the 1970s and 80s. In a way that’s tough to describe, it’s got a vibe closer to Pittsburgh than any place I’ve been in Japan. It’s also interesting to note that, as Kita-Kyushu’s steel industry is itself on the decline in the 21st century, city leaders are looking to Pittsburgh as a model for post-industrial economic recovery.

When I got into my hostel, I asked the friendly front desk girl for a good lunch spot, and she pointed me in the way of a small diner run by her sister and her friend. Then those two recommended a local sake bar, which I visited later in the evening only to again run into all three ladies. After we were good and tipsy, the front desk girl showed me her favorite bowl of Kita-Kyushu-style udon.

I stayed only one night before moving on to Fukuoka, the largest city on the island. It’s known for its beautiful women and its delicious ramen stands. I whole-heartedly approve of both.

About an hour train ride outside of Fukuoka lies a small town called Yanagawa, famous for its canals and boat rides. I took a lovely walk around the quiet town and ate some high-quality unagi (river eel, the local speciality).

On the way back to Fukuoka, I stopped at Dazaifu Tenmangu, a large Shinto shrine which apparently grants success to student who come to pray before important exams. I arrived too late to enter the inner shrine, which may be the reason I’ve failed the JLPT N1 twice since then…

Next up: Nagasaki, Battleship Island, and onsen towns!