Tradition trumping modernity brings me great joy. For more than 300 years, the Chichibu Yomatsuri (Night Festival) has been held annually on December 2 and 3. It doesn’t matter if those days fall on the weekend or, as they were this year, Wednesday and Thursday.
The midweek schedule didn’t stop visitors flocking from Tokyo and beyond out to the small town in the foothills of the Okuchichibu Mountains. The festival is considered one of Japan’s three great float festivals alongside those in the cultural titans of Kyoto and Nara.
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Special Chichibu Yomatsuri sake with one bottle already in the sake-dispensing machine
Various dumpling (gyoza) soups—from left to right, chicken carcass soup, red miso/hot pepper soup and clear soup made from pork broth
Grilled rice cakes (yaki onigiri) on a stick
Hot sake was abundant on the cold night
Just a few of the dozens of food vendors lined up around Seibu Chichibu Station
Omusoba, an egg omelette wrapped around yakisoba noodles and topped with an egg, ketchup and mayonaisse. Delicious!
Cheese is wrapped inside a piece of rice paper and deep fried. Yeah, it’s as good as it sounds.
The best part about night festivals is that they start around dinner time, so it’s a great excuse to pig out on festival food. There’s a lot of festival standards, but each town also has its own unique festival foods. In Chichibu, we saw a variety of dumpling soups and omusoba, which is an egg omelette wrapped around yakisoba noodles and topped with a sunny-side-up egg, ketchup and mayonaisse. It was kind of amazing.
December 3 is the main day of the festival. The parade features floats carried from Chichibu Shrine to the city hall where they’re displayed and used as stages for kabuki performances.
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At the intersection near Ohanabatake Station, the floats are rotated in the shape of the の (“no”) character in a performance called nonoji mawashi (“turned in the shape of no”).
The opening procession features lanterns painted with the names of the Chichibu neighborhoods the carrier represents.
The opening procession features lanterns painted with the names of the Chichibu neighborhoods the carrier represents.
The massive yatai (ornate float) is pushed and pulled through the Nakamachi district
The float is lifted and turned, angling the 20-ton float in ways that make it appear as if it will tumble over.
A man sitting atop the float while it’s leaning to and fro…
The float jacked up, listing waaaaay forward.
Large wooden pillars are used to raise the float while it’s rotated during the nonoji-mawashi performance.
The float parade is lively with a group of young people leading the way with chants of “Ho-ryai!” (“Hooray!”). The massive float follows behind, performers waving lanterns on the stage built into the front and others hanging from the top, at least 20-feet above the ground.
Read an interesting perspective on the building of the floats at Sonic-Yoshi
The ornate floats, called “yatai,” are built using Japanese elm wood and weigh as much as 20 tons. They move slowly through the streets until they reach the intersection near Ohanabatake Station. Here they perform a ceremonial turning of the float called nonoji-mawashi, or “Turning in the Shape of No.” In this case, “no” is the character の.
The danger is palpable; the gasps from the crowd audible. It takes a dozen people using long wooden pillars to lift the end of the float enough that someone can crawl underneath and rearrange the direction of the wheels. Dozens more push the behemoth into its の-shaped turn. All the while, the float lists, leans and wobbles like a disaster waiting to happen.
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Chichibu Yomatsuri Hanabi
Chichibu Yomatsuri Hanabi
Chichibu Yomatsuri Hanabi
Chichibu Yomatsuri Hanabi
Before, during and after the parade, the sky lights up with hundreds of fireworks. Hanabi (firework viewing) is usually a summertime event, so the show in Chichibu is unique in December. It also gave us an opportunity to try out the “Fireworks” setting on our camera, capturing some fun shots.
I find myself running out of superlatives for the things we’re so fortunate to experience in Japan. Chichibu is one of our favorite places in Japan (see here and here and here) and it just received another tick in the plus column.
Today, the Tokaido (literally “East Sea Road”) is made up of major highways and the Tokaido Shinkansen line, the world’s busiest high-speed rail line linking Japan’s biggest cities. If you’ve ever traveled between Tokyo and Kyoto, you’ve been on the Tokaido.
But the Tokaido has a long history. 400 years ago, it was the most important of the five roads linking the then-capital of Kyoto to Tokyo during the Edo Period (1603-1868). Travelers would traverse the 514-kilometer path by foot, stopping along the way at the 53 (later 57) post stations where they could rest, eat and purchase supplies.
Utagawa Hiroshige’s ukiyo-e painting “16th station : Yui” shows the view of Mt. Fuji from Satta Pass.
The original 53 stations were captured in a series of ukiyo-e (wood block paintings) by Utagawa Hiroshige, the last great master of the artform. His collection, “The 53 Stations of the Tokaido,” ushered in a new era of landscape painting and is one of the most popular series of paintings in the world.
A couple weeks ago, we found ourselves on the Tokaido for the fall conference of the Japan Association for Language Teaching (JALT) in Shizuoka City. The city itself wasn’t incredible noteworthy, but it’s location on picturesque Suruga Bay plants it squarely in the middle of history.
Not much remains of the original road, but a hiking route still exists along Satta Pass—one of the most dangerous areas of the original road—between the 16th station at Yui and the 17th station at Okitsu. Since we were staying near the 18th station (Ejiri) in Shimizu, we decided to arrive a day early and walk a bit of the Tokaido.
Our first view of Mt. Fuji was a surprise
Before heading out, we stopped for breakfast near Shimizu Station. We sat on a sidewalk bench facing the shops, enjoying our meal when I glanced over my shoulder. I nearly choked on my coffee when I saw the imposing Mt. Fuji filling up the background between the buildings. We rotated 180-degrees and finished our meal.
The plan was to follow the Tokaido from Ejiri to Yui. We popped into the tourist information center and asked for guidance on our proposed path. In typical Japanese fashion, we were given an answer to our specific question. However, more useful advice would have been to skip the stretch from Ejiri to Okitsu.
The modern-day Tokaido is a major highway overlooking Suruga Bay’s active industrial area.
The three-mile walk to Okitsu wound through modern neighborhoods, past working warehouses and along the current Tokaido—a major highway. We were already tired by the time we reached Okitsu, but a quick stop for taiyaki got us going again.
Our first sign—two hours in, we still had 82 minutes to go?!
A narrow walkway between buildings leading to the trail up to Satta Pass
A view of Suruga Bay from the start of the trail to Satta Pass
The entrance to the trail to Satta Pass goes through a cemetery… a sign of things to come?
Near Okitsu Station, we started to see people looking “hiker-ish” with their backpacks and comfy walking shoes, telling us we were probably on the right track. Even with the all-in-Japanese map we received at the tourist center, the start of the trail was tricky to find—and not just for us.
A Japanese couple had been about 100 feet behind us since Okitsu Station. We compared maps and notes, trying to find our way to the trail. Eventually, we took the road less traveled, heading up some stone steps along a narrow cement retaining wall where we found a set of stairs. Our new friends waited at the bottom for our signal… YES! We found the trail!
The Satta Pass marker, but where was the view from the painting?
We followed the paved road up through the orchards, the trees plump with bright oranges ready for harvest. Finally we arrived at a proper trail, following it through a cemetery and up another hill. Before long, we came to the marker indicating the stretch known as Satta Pass. Just around the corner, we caught our first view of Mt. Fuji from the pass.
Mt. Fuji! Our first look at the grand mountain from Satta Pass
Mt. Fuji from Satta Pass
Mt. Fuji from Satta Pass
Mt. Fuji from Satta Pass from the location that inspired Hiroshige
There is another famous collection of ukiyo-e paintings by Katsushika Hokusai called “Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji.” We created our own version of this as there wasn’t a bad photo from the pass, which has two great viewing areas. A platform is set up with signage comparing the view from the pass to Hiroshige’s original painting.
Looking over the orange orchards at Suruga Bay
We soaked in as much of the view as we could, then continued down the trail. The local orchard sold bags of mikan oranges for just 100 yen at a small rest area and parking lot and sold several bags while we caught our breath (including one to us!).
I saw a lady doing this, so I figured it was the thing to do!
A rusty train with a track that ran straight up the hillside to move crates of oranges out of the orchards
A couple heading toward Satta Pass from Yui Station carry a bag of freshly-purchased oranges
Views of the mountain continued to pop in and out between the orange trees. We passed hikers coming from the opposite direction, still full of energy and smiles as they were just getting started, likely ignorant to the hills that awaited them.
The old streets of Yui
A group of older Japanese hikers caught up with us as we entered the old streets of Yui, which were reminiscent of the old part of Kawagoe. They had planned to make their way all the way to the mountain, but rain on Fuji cut their plans short. They were great walking companions for the stretch run, making chit-chat with us along the way.
A “decorative” gate in front of Yui Station, showing the sakura-ebi (cherry shrimp) that are famously found in Yui’s part of Sugura Bay
We arrived at the Sakura Ebi (Cherry Shrimp) Street gate in front of Yui Station exactly five hours after our first glimpse of Fuji at breakfast. Walking in the footprints of history is exhausting work, the welcome sight of the station just as satisfying at it might have been in the 1600s.
On our last day in Hiroshima, we went off the beaten path to the small town of Saijō. Located a scenic 45-minute train ride from Hiroshima Station, Saijō is famous for being home to 10 of Japan’s best known sake breweries, earning it the title of Japan’s Sake Capital.
First things first. I owe sake an apology. When I had my first beer at, let’s say, 21 years old, I was not a fan. It was probably some garbage like Coors Light. But as I discovered craft beer, I found a love for the creativity and passion brewers put into their products. Each is unique, the character of the individual brewer represented in every beer.
I didn’t like sake when we came to Japan and frankly wasn’t interested in trying it until a few months ago. If you agree with me, you’ve probably only been exposed to table sake like I had been. It turns out the sake brewing industry is as diverse and creative as the American craft beer scene.
In touring six of the eight breweries in Saijo’s city center, we learned more about sake than we ever thought possible. There are strict guidelines for way rice is milled, how long the sake ferments and at what temperature. There are two distinct styles that have different flavor profiles from brewer to brewer.
Sake 101
First, the word “sake” itself isn’t entirely accurate. In Japanese, “sake” means “alcohol” or “liquor” and refers to all alcoholic beverages. I once asked the shelf-stocker at the grocery store where the “sake” section was. He pointed to the entire beer, wine, etc. cooler with wide arms outstretched.
If you want “sake” in Japan, you want nihon-shu, or Japanese liquor. You can also find shochu, a distilled spirit closer to brandy or vodka.
The quality of sake depends on how much of the rice bran has been milled away before the brewing process begins. For table sake, there are no minimum requirements for the milling, while the best quality daiginjo/junmai-daiginjo has 50-60% of the bran milled away. The rice is a special variety that is only used for sake—it actually tastes horrible on its own. More than 80 varieties of sake rice are grown in Japan.
Table sake is the lowest quality of sake. If you’ve ever had hot sake or sake from a large plastic jug, you’ve had table sake. It’s the most common, making up 80 percent of the sake market, and usually tastes closer to rubbing alcohol than something you want to kick back with.
For premium sake, production branches into two paths. Honjozo, Ginjo and Daiginjo are made with pure distilled alcohol added into the brewing process. It results in bright, fragrant and crisp flavors. The Junmai styles don’t contain any distilled alcohol, instead relying on the natural alcohol created by the fermentation caused by Koji mold. Junmai sake has a fuller flavor profile with a thicker mouthfeel.
“Sake Town”
Saijō knows sake is what brings the visitors to town, so as soon as you exit the gates at JR Saijo Station, you’ll find the visitor center offering maps (in English!) guiding the way to the city’s various breweries. You’ll be offered variations of this map at each brewery as well. We collected three different brochures before we started turning them down.
A sample of the Sanyotsuru Hachimaru Junmai, a typical table sake. We bought a couple of the “Fuji” glass that the samples were served in.
Sanyotsuru, a brewery that has been making sake in Saijō for more than 100 years, was our first stop. It’s blink-or-you’ll-miss-it building has a charming tasting room. The first taste is free, but each additional taste is only 5o yen (about 40 cents USD) and it’s worth it to add on. Plus, the tasting expert taught us a new word that would come in handy for the rest of the day: shiin or “sample a drink.”
The well at Hakubotan Brewery. The pure drinking water is part of what gives Saijo sake their unique flavors.
From there, we walked to the center of town, arriving at Hakubotan.Hakubotan is the oldest brewery in town with origins dating back to 1675. Outside, their well offers free drinking water to passer-bys (one man was filling up his drinking water jugs to take home), the same water used to make the sake. The fresh spring water is part of what gives Saijō sake its unique flavor. The folks at Hakubotan weren’t quite ready for us on a Wednesday afternoon, but they broke out the bottles and offered three good quality sake samples.
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The doors to the warehouse of Saijotsuru Brewery. Today’s building looks exactly as it did when the brewery was founded in 1904.
The chimneys of three of Saijo’s sake breweries rise above the modern apartments. Only Saijotsuru still uses its chimney in production, but the preserved steam stacks are part of the attraction today.
The generous samples at Saijotsuru Brewery. This was the third brewery we visited and we felt a little light on our feet after this one.
Across the street, we popped into Saijotsuru. Saijō’s history is charmingly on display with the tall brick chimneys that were used in the traditional brewing process, but Saijotsuru is the only one that actually still uses its chimney in production. The overachiever in town, it’s unfiltered Junmai-Daiginjo has won 10 consecutive Monde Selection Gold Medals.
Saijotsuru was also the most generous in its samples. One other customer was in the tasting room and had likely been there for awhile based on the glow in her cheeks. In addition to the five bottles on the tasting counter, the tasting expert pulled a couple more bottles off the shelf for us to try. We were starting to get a little light on our feet after our visit.
The Kirei Brewery building is often used in the photos promoting the town. Its sake is unique as its more dry where Hiroshima sake is typically sweeter. They’re also famous for their sake-infused udon noodles and soaps.
We wobbled down the street another block to Kirei. We were met by an older man who gave us a bit of the side eye. He seemed really nervous and the vibe was a little odd. In hindsight, I think he was anxious about having to use his English. After a few minutes and a few questions about his sake, he started to lighten up a bit.
Kirei’s sake was unique in that it was a lot drier than the other breweries. The crisp flavor was a nice break from the sweeter varieties.
The samples at Kamoizumi were some of my favorites of the day and the host was great.
We walked to the end of the street where we were met by a goofy young man at Kamoizumi. He gave us a sample of their drip-pressed Junmai-Ginjo, which ended up being one of my favorite tastes of the day. He also told us Hillary Clinton had visited a couple weeks before and bought a bottle of $200 sake. While I couldn’t verify this visit in the news reports, it made a nice story.
We were about sampled out, but he suggested we make one more stop at Kamotsuru.
The chimneys for Kamotsuru Brewery, easily the most impressive brewery on the tour.
At Kamotsuru Brewery, an old rice steaming vat (right) and its wooden rice basket. This vat could hold three tons of rice and produce 4,000 bottles of sake.
Kamotsuru lets visitors pour their own samples. Dangerous!
Trying to look normal while working my way through the samples at Kamotsuru.
A brown bushel of cedar branches called sugidama hang in the doorway of every sake brewery. They’re green when they are placed after the first bottle of sake for the year has been produced. When the branches turn brown, the sake is ready to drink.
Sake barrels are stacked at Kamotsuru Brewery. This is a traditional way for brewers to ask for prosperity in the Shinto religion.
Kamotsuru is the Hiroshima sake, brewing under its current name since 1873. It uses Japan’s best rice and employs Japan’s best brewers. It’s been the favorite of Edo period feudal lords and was the first brewery to make premium sake available to the general public.
But for all of its history, Kamotsuru earned a new place in Japan’s popular culture thanks to a hastily snapped photo in 2014. U.S. President Barrack Obama was visiting Prime Minister Shinzō Abe in Tokyo and the pair dined at the famous Sukiyabashi Jiro sushi restaurant in Tokyo. (Side note: If you haven’t watched the wonderful documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi, check it out ASAP.) A photo of Abe pouring Kamotsuru’s Daiginjo Tokusei Gold into Obama’s cup made the world news circuit and reignited the brewery’s popularity.
The photo appears several times in the tasting room as part of the marketing for the Daiginjo Tokusei Gold. And it worked as it was among the bottles we brought home with us. Each bottle features two gold foil flakes in the shape of cherry blossoms.
Sakagura Dori
In addition to the samples at the breweries, the walk itself is rather enjoyable. Sakagura Dori—or Sake Storehouse Road—gives a taste of what life might have been like in the 1600s as the Edo-era lords came to enjoy the best sake in the world. Each of the breweries have painstakingly restored their buildings, including original features whenever possible. The bright white storehouses stand in contrast to the gray modern apartments and shops that now share space with them.
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The old streets running between the breweries offered a glimpse into life during the area’s heyday.
The well-preserved and still operating Fukubijin Brewery warehouse. Fukubijin was Japan’s first incorporated sake brewer and ran the national brewer’s training school until the 1970s.
The city’s sake brewers hand-drew the mark for “sake” along with a biography of their brewery. Each provided a glimpse into the different personalities that go into creating sake.
One of the brewers was more creative than his peers…
These guys were peering out the window of an apartment. After our fifth brewery, it was a pretty hilarious sight.
Saijō was a great way to wrap up our Hiroshima adventure, getting out of the city for a taste of the countryside. For more details on the city and the walking tour, head over the Saijō Sake website.
How do you think about the unthinkable? From a young age, I’ve been fascinated by Hiroshima. In grade school, I read a book adaptation of the 1983 television movie The Day After. While the movie/book focused on a fictional Cold War nuclear attack, it stirred a desire to learn more about what happened in the world’s first real atomic bombing.
In middle school, I did a presentation on Hiroshima. It involved a diorama and an egg cracked from a foot above, representing the mechanics of the bomb. I showed photos of the “human shadows” that I found in library books. The flash of the bomb was so bright it bleached the concrete, leaving a dark “shadow” of anything in between, including people. It was pretty heavy stuff for an 11-year-old.
Sometimes I worried whether having an interest in something so horrible was normal, but it turns out it’s at the core of who we are as humans. Research shows that witnessing the suffering of others triggers our deepest sense of compassion. It’s almost as if it is happening to us. It’s why events like the assassination of John F. Kennedy, the September 11 attacks and the recent events in Paris capture our attention so thoroughly.
History in Shades of Gray
History seems like something that should exist in black and white. An event occurs, it’s recorded and that’s that. In reality, history lives in shades of gray, colored by the perspective of those who experienced it.
It’s also stained with the hues used by those who write it.
Over the years, I’ve read accounts from the crew of the Enola Gay, the bomber that dropped the bomb on Hiroshima. I’ve read the justifications from politicians of the time as well as the opinions of modern day pundits. The most common argument is that the bomb saved lives by ending the war prematurely. On August 9, the day the second bomb was dropped in Nagasaki, U.S. President Harry Truman said:
We have used [the atomic bomb] in order to shorten the agony of war, in order to save the lives of thousands and thousands of young Americans.
True, the war did officially end with Japan’s surrender to Allied forces less than a month after the bomb fell on Hiroshima. But in reality, the U.S. had very strategic reasons for dropping the bomb on Hiroshima in particular.
Hiroshima had not been subject to repeated bombings unlike Tokyo, Yokohama or Toyama. It would be easier to determine the destructive power of the bomb on a pristine target. Once Hiroshima was confirmed as a target, all planned air raids were canceled to keep the city intact.
Hiroshima had several military targets thanks to its location on the sea. But more importantly, U.S. intelligence (incorrectly) determined there were no Allied prisoner of war camps in the city. However, at least a dozen American POWs were killed in the blast, a fact not acknowledged by the U.S. government until the 1970s.
The most significant consideration may have been the Soviet Union’s decision to enter the war against Japan. The U.S. utilizing the atomic bomb had as much to do with thwarting the opportunity for Soviet influence in the region as it did with “saving lives.”
Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park as seen from the Peace Memorial Museum. The Memorial Cenotaph and Flame of Peace can be seen in the foreground. The Atomic Bomb Dome is in the distance.
The Story of the Bomb
We tried our best to create balance in our Hiroshima visit, knowing that the day at the Peace Memorial Park would be a weighty one. We ate okonomiyaki, drank sake and visited historic and beautiful Miyajima. But absorbing the atrocities of the bomb were an important part of the visit.
Just 50 yen (40 cents USD) gets you in the doors of the powerful and well-done Peace Memorial Museum. English-speaking tour guides offer their services for free. The guides are volunteers who have a connection to the bomb in some way. Our guide’s father lived just outside the city in 1945 and was exposed to radiation in the days that followed. He still qualifies for the special government health care pass for Hiroshima victims.
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“Mother and Child in the Storm” invokes the spirit of ordinary people to overcome grief and suffering
The Gates of Peace feature the word “Peace” in 49 languages. The 10 gates invoke Dante’s Nine Circles of Hell, plus the 10th Circle—the living Hell created by the bomb
Schoolkids walk by the Fountain of Prayer, commemorating those who died from their burns while begging for water.
The Peace Clock Tower sounds every day at 8:15 a.m., the exact time the bomb exploded over Hiroshima
A small painted stone was tucked behind the flowers in front of the Memorial Cenotaph
The Monument to 8:15 at the National Peace Memorial Hall is surrounded by roof tiles, shattered by the explosion
The museum is special not only for its contents, but also for its role in redeveloping the area around the hypercenter of the bomb. Construction of the museum and surrounding park began in 1952, focusing on remembering the victims in a way that promotes ongoing peace in the world.
The aim of the museum isn’t to paint America in a poor light. This museum is about peace going forward while making sure future generations don’t lose sight of the realities of what happened on August 6, 1945.
Photo taken by the crew of the Enola Gay one hour after the bomb exploded over Hiroshima (National Archives)
Inside, the first image you encounter is a wall-sized photo of the mushroom cloud, taken by the crew of the Enola Gay an hour after they dropped the bomb. It’s followed by snapshots taken by amateur photographers from outside the city. Even in a city that had grown used to air raids, there was a sense that this one was different.
A lifesize replica of bomb victims, their skin dripping from their bones
The realities of the destruction and the toll on human life are presented in provocative detail. Crumbling brick walls line the hallways. A scene backlit in a fiery red shows women and children walking through the rubble, their clothes hanging in tatters and their skin literally melting off of their bodies. Sadly, this isn’t done in exaggeration, but in historical accuracy.
A scale model of Hiroshima showing the size of the fireball created by the atomic bomb and complete destruction of the surrounding area.
A scale model shows the size of the fireball caused by the explosion in comparison to the city below. It’s massive and unimaginable. The shockwaves and firestorms flattened the entire city.
Yoshito Matsushige’s photo of a makeshift relief center, one of only a handful of known photos from the day of the bombing. The young girl at the back found her father at the relief station, but her mother was killed in the blast.
Photos from inside the city on the day of the bombing are rare. According to our guide, there are only three, taken by photographer and Hiroshima resident Yoshito Matsushige. Matsushige recognized the importance of the moment, snapping a photo of a family reuniting outside a makeshift relief center. Other memories of the days surrounding the bombing are thoughtfully captured in drawings from those who survived.
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The rubble of the city is recreated inside the Peace Memorial Museum, approximating the feeling of life in Hiroshima in the days after the bombing.
“Little Boy,” a replica of the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima
Photos show the shadows created by the bomb’s flash. At far right, the pattern of the woman’s dress burned into her skin.
Iron shutters on a building buckled under the pressure of the blast
Part of the original girders of the Aioi Bridge buckled from the pressure of the bomb’s blast. It’s unique T-shape provided a perfect target for the Enola Gay.
Two thick volumes list all of the victims of the bomb. Best estimates are 66,000 killed by the bomb and another 69,000 injured.
A school pin on the tattered remains of a school uniform worn by a girl on the day of the bombing.
Tattered school uniforms worn on the day of the bombing.
Personal belongings gathered in the cleanup. Metal and glass containers melted and fused to each other.
The pressure from the blast impaled this shard of glass into a concrete wall.
A white wall stained by the radioactive black rain that fell as the bomb remnants mixed with the residue from the fires.
The Kabe Police Relief Station struggles to cope as more injured persons are carried in. Drawn by Shigeko Yano, 30-years-old at the time, on August 8, 1945.
The physical artifacts carry the most weight. Remnants of school uniforms burned off the children who wore them. Small details are left intact, like a school pin attached to a shirt collar. A metal lunch box with a child’s lunch still inside, burned to an unidentifiable black mass.
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A person sitting on the steps of Sumitomo Bank waiting for it to open was exposed to the flash from the atomic bomb explosion. Receiving the rays directly, the victim must have died on the spot from massive burns. The surface of the surrounding stone steps turned whitish from the intense heat rays. The place where the person was sitting became dark like a shadow.
The shadow on the steps of the Sumimoto Bank as it appeared in the days after the bombing.
Sumimoto Bank donated the steps of its Hiroshima branch. The steps show one of the aforementioned “human shadows.” It’s thought to belong to a customer sitting on the steps waiting for the bank to open. A dark spot still remains, its owner vaporized by heat of the 10,830°F blast. In an instant, humans disappeared from the face of the planet leaving nothing but a dark spot on the ground.
The tricycle belonging to 3-year-old Shinichi Tetsutani, killed on the day of the bombing. His beloved tricycle was buried with him.
Shinichi’s Tricycle
One of the more touching stories accompanies a rusted tricycle belonging to 3-year-old Shinichi Tetsutani. Shinichi was riding his beloved toy in front of his home on the morning of the bomb. He was badly burned by the flash and died later in the day.
Shinichi’s father felt his son was too young to be buried alone, so he buried his boy and the tricycle in a grave in the backyard. Forty years later, Shinichi’s father recovered his son’s remains and moved them to the family cemetery. The tricycle was donated to the museum.
Hiroshima’s Children’s Peace Monument, dedicated to 12-year-old Sadako Sasaki who famously folder 1,000 paper cranes as a wish to recover from leukemia caused by the atomic bomb.
Children’s Peace Monument
One of Hiroshima’s most famous stories belongs to Sadako Sasaki. Sadako was the inspiration for Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, a children’s book written by American author Eleanor Coerr. The real-life Sadako was 2-years-old on the day of the bombing, living just over a mile from the hypercenter. The force of the blast sent the toddler through a window of the family home. Her mother found her outside, apparently unharmed.
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Actual cranes folded by Sadako Sasaki in her hospital room as she battled leukemia. These are about the size of a U.S. quarter.
Actual cranes folded by Sadako Sasaki in her hospital room as she battled leukemia. These are about the size of a U.S. quarter.
Smalled cranes folded by Sadako Sasaki in her hospital room. These weren’t much larger than the common housefly.
The statue of Sadako atop the Children’s Peace Monument
Some of the thousands of cranes donated by people all over the world
A dove created with hundreds of folded paper cranes
A close-up of the dove, the paper cranes can be seen in detail
Nearly 10 years later, Sadako developed an acute form of leukemia and was given a year to live. While in the hospital, she met another girl just a couple years older than herself who told her the legend of senbazuru. Anyone who folds 1,000 paper cranes would be granted a wish.
In all, she folded more than 1,400 cranes, some as small as a housefly, before losing her battle in October 1955. Her classmates folded 1,000 cranes that would be buried with her. The paper crane is now a popular symbol for peace in Japan and around the world.
In 1958, the Children’s Peace Monument was unveiled in the Peace Memorial Park. Sadako is on the top, holding one of her cranes. During our visit, groups of children passed through to ring the bell which, of course, has a bronze crane attached to its chain. Around the outside, display cases hold thousands of paper cranes that have been folded by children around the world and donated to the park.
Hiroshima Today
Today’s Hiroshima resembles most other major Japanese cities, built and rebuilt since the 1950s and full of office buildings, shops, restaurants and parks. Yet, Hiroshima’s history always contains a dark footnote.
Hiroshima Castle catches the afternoon sun
Hiroshima Castle was constructed in the 1950s, but was destroyed by the atomic bomb and rebuilt in 1958.
The Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall opened on August 5, 1915, but was destroyed by the atomic bomb. The rubble has been preserved as the Atomic Bomb Dome.
The historic Shukkei-en Gardens were designed in 1620, but suffered extensive damage by the atomic bomb and were renovated in 1951.
Messages on the wall at Fukuromachi Elementary School. The wall was blackened by the fire. Teachers and pupils wrote messages regarding their whereabouts on teh wall with chalk. Similar messages were written on walls all over the city. Those searching relief stations for family and friends looked for messages like these.
Fukuromachi Elementary School opened in February 1873. 160 students and teachers were killed by the atomic bomb. It reopened in May 1946 with 37 students.
To experience Hiroshima in person is to have the most effective history lesson possible. Hiroshima wasn’t a city full of military personnel; it was a city of families. Mothers. Fathers. Brothers. Sisters. It was people going about their daily lives in the midst of a World War. Fishermen and businessmen. It was a city of people whose lives were destroyed in a literal instant.
But it’s also a city of hope, literally built on the mistakes of the past. It’s living proof of the resiliency of people in spite of the evils carried out in the name of war and righteousness. Hiroshima is a lesson that should never be repeated, but should be learned from over and over again.
We started our day before the day itself got underway, arriving at the Miyajimaguchi Pier ferry terminal just as the sun began to rise over Itsukushima Island. The ferry set sail right on schedule, carrying us through the morning mist hovering atop Hiroshima Bay.
Sunrise over Hiroshima Bay and Miyajima
As we approach, the inspiration for the island’s popular nickname—Miyajima (Shrine Island)—emerges through the mist. First, the Great Torii, glowing in orange lacquer, appears just beyond the water’s edge. Then, the sprawling complex of Itsukushima Shrine and the five-tiered pagoda comes into view. It’s picture perfect.
The Great Torii of Miyajima appears in the morning mist
The Great Torii and Itsukushima Shrine are both listed among UNESCO’s World Heritage properties, and for good reason. The Great Torii is in its eighth iteration, this one standing since 1875. Built from 500 year old camphor tree, the 16-ton gate rises nearly 55-feet into the air. Perhaps most impressively, it stands directly atop stones on the seabed instead of being buried into the ground. The weight of the wood and seven tons of fist-sized rocks hand-set in the roof keep the torii planted in place.
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The morning sun casts a glow on the Great Torii
At low tide, the seaweed looks like grass along the shoreline near the Great Torii
The Great Torii at low tide in the early morning
In front of the Great Torii
At low tide, you can walk right up to the Great Torii
The Great Torii is nearly 55 feet tall and weighs about 60 tons
A series of large stones provide a crossing over the stream running through the Great Torii. This entire area will be covered in water in a few hours.
We’re just a couple shadows in the shadow of the Great Torii
Making a wish at the Great Torii
Jumping for joy at the Great Torii
Walking through the mud and the seaweed at low tide
A view of the Great Torii from the top of Mt. Misen
The Great Torii in the afternoon appears to float in Hiroshima Bay
A final peek at the Great Torii as we headed back to the ferry
A panorama of Miyajima’s World Heritage properties. Left to right: The Great Torii; Toyokuni Shrine and its five-storied pagoda; and Itsukushima Shrine
We arrived early enough to be able to spend an hour or so walking around the torii with only a thin crowd joining us. At low tide, you can walk all the way through the gate, the seabed just firm enough from the dried mud and seaweed. We snapped photos from every angle imaginable. We offered to take photos for strangers who offered the same in kind. A quiet and peaceful morning in a tranquil place.
In fact, we arrived so early that none of the shops on Miyajima’s shopping street had opened yet. Around 9 a.m., we finally spotted a cafe propping its doors and stopped in for coffee. Continuing down the street, we tried some of Miyajima’s famous maple leaf cakesand spotted one of the island’s novelties: the world’s largest rice scoop. A Korean dance group set up near the ferry terminal, the rhythmic beat of their drums audible all over the island.
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Character cutouts line the streets of Miyajima’s shopping streets. In this one, my head is a nose.
This one makes more sense
At 25 feet long, this is the world’s largest rice scoop. Rice scoops or shamoji are one of Miyajima’s famous products, often crafted from high-quality wood.
A Korean-style dance group performed in Miyajima’s center square
Kids play with balloons while watching the Korean dance performance
A couple kids get the full Samurai treatment
“Samurai” in full costume offered kids a chance to dress up and take photos with them along the Miyajima bayfront path
As the crowd thickened, swarming in every 20 minutes via the ferry, we sought higher ground. The Uguisuhodo Nature Walk trail climbs steadily into the heart of the island, finally meeting up with the Miyajima Ropeway station. The cable cars graze the treetops on their way to the top of Mt. Misen.
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Ivy grows into a tunnel leading to the Uguisuhodo Nature Walk trail
From a small park along the Uguisuhodo Nature Walk trail, we caught an amazing view of Toyokuni Shrine and its five-storied pagoda
The autumn colors were in full force on Miyajima
The Miyajima Ropeway carries visitors to the top of Mt. Misen
Catching some rays at the Mt. Misen Observatory
Small monk statues were tucked into hidden spots on the top of Mt. Misen. This one was curling a dumbbell while another was adorned with a pair of lost sunglasses.
Kiezu-no-hi or The Eternal Flame has been burning since 806 AD. It was also used as the pilot light for the Peace Flame in Hiroshima’s Peace Memorial Park.
A statue inside the hall holding the Eternal Flame. A quick lap through will leave you smelling like you took a nap in a fireplace.
Small clay Buddha statues are left as offerings at the Mt. Misen Observatory
Mt. Misen’s Observatory offers panoramic views of Hiroshima Bay and the surrounding islands. Temples and shrines dating back to the 9th century sit just below the mountain’s summit, full with tales of miracles circulating around Daisho-in Temple’s founding monk, Kobo Daishi.
One of the most popular attractions is Kiezu-no-hi or The Eternal Flame. It is said to have been lit by Daishi himself in 806 AD and continues to burn to this day. Water boiled in a tea kettle over the flame is thought to hold magical healing powers. The flame itself was used as the pilot light for the Peace Flame that burns in Hiroshima’s Peace Memorial Park.
While the torii and the shrines are the main draw, Miyajima might be just as famous for its wild deer. After living with generations of tourists, the deer are mostly docile and don’t really care about the thousands of people walking through their home. However, when feeding time comes, they turn into quite a nuisance, digging into bags or just swiping things out of people’s hands. As we watched the sunset, a deer with a cataract came up and snagged our map of the island out of our bag. He chewed it and swallowed it down, his creepy cloudy-white eye staring at us the whole time.
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Wild deer make their home amongst the tourists on Miyajima
A public bath for the deer
I like to think this deer knew what the sign said
A doe and her fawn graze along the walkway to the Uguisuhodo Nature Walk trail
The deer on Miyajima can be a bit of a pest. This one was chewing and swallowing our map when I snapped this picture.
Miyajima Firewalking Ceremony
In a moment of travel serendipity, we happened to land on Miyajima on the day of Daigan-ji Temple’s Hiwatari-shiki or Firewalking Ceremony. The ceremony is only held twice a year, once in April and once in November.
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A monk overseas the Firewalking Ceremony at Daigan-ji Temple
Monks throw thousands of wooden prayer sticks into a blazing fire. In a few minutes, they’ll run through the flames.
Monks run through the flames during Miyajima’s Firewalking Ceremony
Monks run through the flames during Miyajima’s Firewalking Ceremony
Monks run through the flames during Miyajima’s Firewalking Ceremony
Monks run through the flames during Miyajima’s Firewalking Ceremony
A pair of shoes belonging to one of the monks who run barefoot through blazing fire and over hot coals
The temple’s monks go through an hour-long ceremony, building a towering bonfire fueled by thousands of wooden stakes—offerings left throughout the year by worshippers. They smooth the coals several times over with long bamboo poles as the flames rise and fall. Purifying salt is thrown over the flames and pine branches laid at either end of the inferno. There’s chanting, a conch-shell horn and a lot of theatrics.
As they near the end, one of the monks begins an intricate final dedication, writing Japanese characters in the air with his arm. Suddenly, as the fire returns to its peak, the monks run through one by one. With the drawn out ceremony, the haste of the climax is almost shocking.
Once the flames die down and only the hot coal remains, visitors are invited to partake in the ceremony. The line wrapped around the temple as tourists passed over the coals one by one.
Our latest Wednesday afternoon hike (check out our recent jaunts in Ogawa and Tokorozawa’s Totoro Forest) took us into the foothills of the Okuchichibu Mountains and nearby Hannō City. Back in May, we met a couple Japanese ladies on our way to another hike in Hannō who suggested we try the trail to Neno-Gongen Temple.
The city’s website provided a basic outline of the hike advertised as the Ancient Temples of Oku-Musashi. I mapped it out in detail to ensure we wouldn’t get ourselves lost in the woods (in literary circles, this sentence is called “foreshadowing”).
The tree-covered hills of the Okuchichibu Mountains are home to a decent-sized population of Asiatic black bears. Most hikers wear a bell like this one to keep from sneaking up on a bear in the woods.
We arrived at Agano Station, the starting point for our hike, around 2 p.m. The train station was selling bear bells, which we’d been meaning to buy for awhile. The hilly forests host a good-sized population of Asiatic black bears. The ringing of the small bells is a common sound on many of the region’s hiking trails. Knowing we’d be on our own for much of the day, it seemed like a good time to pick one up.
The bell from Tōzen-ji temple in Miyagi Prefecture is now on display at Hoko-ji temple, just outside Agano Station.
Just down the street from the station, we made our first stop at Hoko-ji, a Buddhist temple established in 1386. For a small-town temple, it had several impressive pieces, although its most impressive didn’t even belong to the temple.
Large bronze bells (ō-bonshō) are a fixture at Buddhist temples. This particular one was part of Tōzen-ji temple, located in Miyagi Prefecture on the northeast coast of Japan. The temple was destroyed in the 2011 tsunami and the bell washed into the ocean. Hoko-ji will continue to be the bell’s caretaker until the temple in Miyagi is rebuilt.
An American of average height, I’m constantly ducking under things in this country!
After ringing the bell a couple times, we passed through the low-ceiling tunnel under the train tracks and followed the path to Togo Park. The park is named for Heihachirō Tōgō, an admiral in the Imperial Japanese Navy during the 1800s who grew up in the area. The steep-hilled park is popular for viewing the changing autumn leaves.
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Straw sandals are one of Hannō’s traditional crafts. Large metal versions of the sandals are found in parks and shrines throughout the area.
A piece of the deck from the battleship Mikasa is on display in Togo Park. The desk took heavy artillery fire during the Russo-Japanese War in the early 1900s.
A statue of Heihachirō Tōgō looks down over the park named for him. Tōgō is one of Japan’s greatest naval heroes.
A Russian-made cannon is one of the relics from the Russo-Japanese War on display in Togo Park
At the top, reached by climbing nearly 400 steps, we were rewarded by an outdoor “museum” to the Russo-Japanese War. A piece of artillery-shelled deck from the battleship Mikasa and a Russian-made cannon with artillery shells are among the items on public display. Higher up, a small bamboo grove surrounds Chichibu Mitake Shrine. The shrine is the only one in Hannō that has a Shinto priest living on site.
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Two cargo planes flying by, likely on their way to Iruma Airbase. Omiya, Tokyo and Yokohama can be seen in the distance, more than 40 miles away.
The winding road to Neno-Gongen temple shows a burst of autumn color
A bridge leading into the forest near Neno-Gongen temple
An amazing view from the road near the entrance to Neno-Gongen temple. We could see all the way to Tokyo and Yokohama.
Scarecrows are usually to keep the birds out, but the .38 Special it’s holding seems to be directed more at the hikers.
Asamichaya is a teahouse and udon noodle shop located in the mountains. The shop was originally established in 1855, serving warm noodles and tea to travelers needing a short rest.
A tanuki statue hides in the bushes along the road.
We climbed back down the steps to the park’s entrance and started up the road to Neno-Gongen Temple. Along the way, we passed Asamichaya, a teahouse and udon noodle shop that has been tucked away in the mountains since 1855. It was already closed for the day, but it’s still operating as a resthouse for weary travelers looking to fuel up or just grab a quick snack on the trail.
As we approached the gates of Neno-Gongen Temple, the road opened up into an amazing view. Thanks to the clear weather, we could see all the way to Tokyo Skytree and the Yokohama Landmark Tower, more than 40 miles to the east.
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The Kongorikishi guard the entrance to Neno-gongen Temple
The large straw sandals are one of the big draws at Neno-gongen Temple
Even the charms (omamori) at Neno-gongen Temple are small straw sandals
Simply entitled “Hands,” this art installation at Neno-gongen was created in 2009 by an art professor at Kyoto Seika University
Neno-Gongen is all about extremes. A pair of giant Kongōrikishi statues wait at the gate in their permanent intimidating poses. Inside, an oversized pair of straw sandals hang near the main temple with two more metal versions sitting nearby. Opposite the giant sandals, miniature sandals serve as ema (prayer offerings) left by worshippers. Down the hill, a pair of giant hands rest in a traditional Buddhist mudra position.
The sunset at Neno-Gongen Temple
Neno-Gongen was roughly the halfway point of our hike. It was exactly 5 p.m. when the sun started to disappear. We were literally in the middle of the mountains; too far to turn back, so we powered forward.
Note to our mothers: You should probably stop reading now and just assume that everything continued according to plan! 🙂
We had about two miles remaining to reach the town where we’d catch the bus. In hindsight, we might have chosen to follow the road from the temple in hopes to find a passing car, but—to paraphrase Jung—wholly unprepared, we embarked down the path into the forest.
The last photo of the day, tree trunks illuminated by the camera flash as only darkness awaited us.
The trees quickly blocked out what remained of the sunlight. Soon, the narrowing trail was pitch-black. To the left, the slope of the forest. To the right, a drop-off into the trees. All we had for light was the display screen from the camera.
Things quickly turned into an amateur remake of the Blair Witch Project. Weird screeching sounds echoed through the forest. Rustling sounds—real or imagined—stopped us in our tracks. The journey slowed to a crawl as the path devolved into a steep slope entangled in a snarl of exposed tree roots.
We arrived at Takedera Temple as the camera battery drained toward end of life. We used what was left of our light to find the nearest road. While it headed away from our bus stop, it would at least get us out of the forest. As we walked through the temple’s front gates, a motion-sensing security flood light flashed on, sending a rush of adrenaline surging through us that would last well into the night.
Once we found the paved road, we followed it down in a half-run until civilization finally re-emerged. We saw a bus stop, but we’d missed the final bus of the day by 30 minutes. Certain that we were still some distance from a train station, we flagged down the first car that passed. A young woman named Yū stopped.
Me: Do you know where the nearest station is?
Yū: Hannō.
Me: Is it far?
She gave me that look of pity that has become all too familiar over the last year and a half and invited us into her car. We were immediately comforted, both by the ride and the Of Monsters and Men song “From Finner” playing on her radio. The lyrics fit the moment perfectly:
And we are far from home, but we’re so happy Far from home, all alone, but we’re so happy
We drove… and drove… and drove. She told us she was going to Hannō to visit friends, so it wasn’t out of her way. But with the Japanese penchant for friendliness, she could have been a minute from home when she picked us up. We’ll never know.
She dropped us at Higashi-Hanno Station. We offered gas money, but of course she declined. I removed the Totoro Fund button that we bought on our last hike from my backpack and gave it to her as a token of appreciation.
If this is our last hike of the season, it certainly will be a memorable one!
Thanks to the university choosing to celebrate the 50th anniversary of its founding by canceling Friday classes, we were gifted an extra-long weekend and made a trip to Nikkō. Located in Tochigi Prefecture, about three hours north of Kawagoe via local trains, Nikkō is a popular destination for viewing koyo, or “fall colors” thanks to its high elevations around picturesque Lake Chūzenji.
Day 1: Kanmangafuchi Abyss
We arrived Thursday afternoon amidst a light but steady drizzle. We caught a local bus to our ryokan, the Turtle Inn, alongside the Daiya River. After dropping our bags, we took a short walk to Kanmangafuchi Abyss, an ancient gorge formed by the eruption of Mount Nantai.
Along the way, we saw the beginnings of fall in Stone Park before arriving to a line of 70 stone Jizo statues. Known as “Bake Jizo” or “Ghost Jizo”, the Buddhist statue is believed to be the protector of children, especially those who pass away before their parents. The statues are a common sight in Japan, usually clad in knitted hats and bibs that are often provided by the grieving parents.
After our short hike, we went to Bell, a small, family-run cafe that features yuba—Nikkō’s local speciality—in a large set meal. Yuba is the skin that forms on the top of boiled soy milk and takes on the flavors of the surrounding ingredients much like tofu. Their delicious “Monk’s Diet” set featured six different vegetarian preparations of yuba.
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Lanterns hanging in Nikko Station advertise the local World Heritage Site
The outlined turtle on the sign of our ryokan reminded me of the Social Distortion smoking skeleton logo (Google it!)
Our Japanese-style room at the Turtle Inn
The path through Stone Park leads in Kanmangafuchi Abyss
The fall colors in Stone Park
The fall colors in Stone Park
Ready for the rain
Kanmangafuchi Abyss
A few of the 70 stone buddhist statues known as Bake Jizo, or Ghost Jizo
The changing fall colors in Kanmangafuchi Abyss
An old covered well in Kanmangafuchi Abyss
The Yuba Fest at Bell Cafe in Nikko. Yuba is the skin created when soy milk is boiled.
The shared bath at Turtle Inn. This was the smaller of two baths available for use.
Day 2: Senjogahara Hike
We were met with a misty rain on the morning of our second day as well. We boarded the bus for the hour-plus ride out past the north end of Lake Chūzenji. As we wound through the curvy mountain roads, the sky began to clear up, turning into a cool but pleasant day.
English-language maps are located all over town featuring useful guides to get the most out of a Nikkō visit. We chose the 6.3km hiking course from Yutaki Falls through the Senjogahara Marshlands ending at Ryuzu Falls. The course begins at the massive Yutaki Falls where those traveling by car stop before continuing on to the Yumoto Hot Springs.
After snapping a few pictures, we ventured out onto the trail, which mostly consists of newly-built boardwalks that keep your feet out of the muck while protecting the natural habitat from the thousands of daily visitors. The crowds thinned considerably as we moved away from the falls. The scenery is beautiful as it evolves from dense forest to the open plains of Senjogahara Marshlands. The scenery is framed by the nearby mountain range, anchored by Mt. Nantai, Nikkō’s answer to Mt. Fuji. We ended at Shobugahama Beach on the north shore of Lake Chūzenji before catching a bus back to the city.
That night, we headed toward the city center to find dinner. Although it was a Friday night, many of the restaurants were closed despite the streets crawling with tourists. While looking at cheap Ukiyo-e prints, we bumped into a couple from San Francisco who were looking for a nearby vegetarian restaurant (among those already closed for the night). We chatted for awhile and gave them directions to the place we ate the night before.
As we popped in and out of the other restaurants trying to find a vegetarian-friendly meal, we ran into them again. They’d been doing the same, showing their vegetarian travel card to every shop owner before being turned away due to the fish broth, or fish chunks or fish fish. This time they stuck with us and together we tried to find a place to eat. Thanks to TripAdvisor, we finally arrived at Maruhide Shokudo.
The hostess invited us into the small restaurant and started going through the menu with us in Japanese with a little bit of English. With a few modifications, we came up with a pretty good selection of food, including a teriyaki yuba burger—sort of like shredded roast beef—and yuba-filled potato and soy croquettes. We shared travel stories (they’d lived in Hong Kong and Sydney for short periods) and enjoyed the great meal with new friends.
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The torii for Futarasan Shrine Chugu-Shi, the shrine atop Mt. Nantai—known as Nikko’s Mt. Fuji
The changing colors on Lake Chuzenji
The bus stop for Yutaki Falls and the beginning of our hike
Amazing fall colors on the road to Yutaki Falls
The very-impressive Yutaki Falls
The wooden boardwalk on the Senjogahara Hiking Trail
The wooden boardwalk on the Senjogahara Hiking Trail
The wooden boardwalk on the Senjogahara Hiking Trail
Double-checking the map
A rest area along the Senjogahara Hiking Trail
The Senjogahara Marshlands, a wide-open plains area framed by Mt. Nantai, Mt. Taro and Mt. San’s-boshi from right to left
A bare stretch of the Senjogahara Hiking Trail
Seems a bad place for bears to hang out
The top of Ryuzu Falls, formed by the lava flow from the eruption of Mt. Nantai more than 7,000 years ago
Ryuzu-no-Taki, or Dragon’s Head Waterfall, is one of Nikko’s most iconic landmarks. We saw the same photo we took in restaurants and our ryokan.
The fall colors along Shobugahama Beach on the north end of Lake Chuzenji
Looking out from the boat dock at Shobugahama Beach on the north end of Lake Chuzenji
A kuzuryū (nine-headed dragon) fountain at Jokoji Temple near our ryokan in Nikko
Stone Cups Street features water pipes built in the early 1900s to bring water from a nearby spring. It’s said the water runs cold in the summer, but warm in the winter.
A house on Daiku-cho used by the carpenters who built Tōshō-gū Shrine in the 1600s
Shinkyo Bridge (Sacred Bridge) was built in 1636 and is technically part of Futarasan Shrine, about 1km away
An old cable car has been turned into a public phone booth in Nikko’s city center
Day 3: World Heritage Shrines and Temples
For our last day, we stayed in town to visit the UNESCO World Heritage-designated Shrines and Temples of Nikkō. Two Shinto shrines (Futarasan Shrine and Tōshō-gū) and one Buddhist temple (Rinnō-ji) make up the complex along with the large cedar forest surrounding the area.
Not unlike the shrines and temples in Kyoto, the Nikkō complex requires a ticket to get in. For 1,300 yen, you get a ticket to Tōshō-gū and entrance to the tomb of Tokugawa Ieyasu. Ieyasu was the founder of the Tokugawa Shogunate which ruled Japan for more than 200 years while laying the groundwork for the Japanese imperialism era of the late 1800s and early 1900s.
Unfortunately, both Tōshō-gū and Futarasan are undergoing major restoration work. Coupled with the large Saturday crowd, the shrines were a little disappointing, but it was still easy to see why they’re an important part of Japan’s history.
The most complete artifact of the complex had to be the Five-Storied Pagoda, originally built in 1650, destroyed by fire and then rebuilt in 1818. It uses a unique center pillar called a shinbashira for support which has long been thought to be the reason pagodas perform well in earthquakes. Over the past 1,400 years, only two pagodas have collapsed in earthquakes.
After a self-guided tour and a short coffee stop, we set out for another walking tour. The Takino’o Path heads up into the cedar forest, visiting some unique shrines and natural sights. It was a great way to escape the crowds at the shrines and enjoy one last bit of peace and quiet before heading back into the city.
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Outside the gates of Tōshō-gū Shrine
The fall colors pair well with the lacquered paint of Tōshō-gū Shrine
The torii leading into Tōshō-gū
Several wonderful examples of bonsai trees were on display inside Tōshō-gū Shrine
The three wise monkeys (sanzaru) at Tōshō-gū Shrine remind us to “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil”
Several wonderful examples of bonsai trees were on display inside Tōshō-gū Shrine
The temizuya pavilion (ceremonial hand washing) at Tōshō-gū Shrine
Several wonderful examples of bonsai trees were on display inside Tōshō-gū Shrine
The architecture and decoration of Tōshō-gū Shrine is one of the reasons UNESCO added it to the World Heritage list in 1999
The architecture and decoration of Tōshō-gū Shrine is one of the reasons UNESCO added it to the World Heritage list in 1999
Close-up of some of the ornate decorations that cover the structures throughout Tōshō-gū Shrine. Each are being restored by hand, including paint and gold leafing.
The Sleeping Cat (Nemuri-neko) of Tōshō-gū Shrine rests above the gate leading to the tomb of Tokugawa Ieyasu
The tomb of Tokugawa Ieyasu, the Shogun of Japan in the early 1600s. The Tokugawa Shogunate ruled Japan for more than 200 years, laying the foundation of the country’s imperial era.
The five-storied pagoda at Tōshō-gū Shrine. Each layer represents a different natural element—earth, water, fire, wind and void from bottom to top. A pillar in the center, common in pagoda architecture, is credited for the reason pagodas rarely collapse in earthquakes.
The torii leading to Futarasan Shrine. Founded in 767, the shrine is home to the kami/god of Mt. Nantai and stands as an example of the influence of Japan’s mountain culture from the 3rd-1st centuries B.C.
This little girl has likely just turned 3-years-old and is celebrating Shichi-Go-San (Seven-Five-Three). At age 3 and 7 (3 and 5 for boys), girls visit the shrine dressed in traditional kimono to wish for a long and healthy life.
The chinowa at Futarasan Shrine. The loop is made from intertwined reeds and visitors walk through the loop in a figure-eight (infinity) to purify and reinvigorate the spirit. It’s one of Japan’s oldest religious traditions.
The five-storied pagoda peeks through the trees
The sacred hall of Kaizan-do was our first stop on the Takino’o Path. The hall was built to cremate Priest Shodo, the founder of Futarasan. His remains are housed in a tomb behind the hall.
Next to Kaizan-do, a smaller shrine called San-no-miya is dedicated to safe delivery in childbirth. The tablets represent a Japanese chess piece called kyosha, which can only move forward in a straight line—not unlike the desired path of giving birth!
Stone Buddha statues, called Hotoke Iwa in Japanese, are located behind Kaizan-do under a cliff. It was said the image of Buddha was visible on the cliff, but after the cliff face collapsed in an earthquake, these statues were placed in the rubble.
Kitano Shrine was built in 1661 to enshrine a Heian Era scholar named Sugawara Michizane, now recognized as the God of Study. A large rock nearby called the Tegake Stone is believed to contain powers to improve scholarship and penmanship.
The gorgeous autumn leaves of Nikko!
The gorgeous autumn leaves of Nikko!
The gorgeous autumn leaves of Nikko!
The gorgeous autumn leaves of Nikko!
Visiting Nikkō
Nikkō is a popular day trip for tourists as it’s less than two hours from Tokyo by Shinkansen. The All-Nikkō Pass can be reserved online and provide a great discount on train and bus fare.
We stayed near the shrine area and while we enjoyed our ryokan, we probably would choose something in the Lake Chūzenji area next time. If the natural sights and hiking are your thing, I’d recommend the same. If you’re more into shopping, eating and the shrines, staying closer to the station is a better option. The bus between the areas takes about an hour and costs anywhere from 1,000-1,500 yen each way.
The sound of the rustling leaves told us something was lurking nearby. We wandered deeper into the camphor trees, acorns cracking under our feet. We knew he was nearby… any minute now, we’d find Totoro.
Totoro, of course, is a large cat-like spirit who stars in My Neighbor Totoro (となりのトトロ), one of writer/director Hayao Miyazaki‘s famous animated films. Totoro gained some fame among fans of Japanese animation in the U.S. when Disney dubbed the film into English in 2005, but the movie and its characters are deeply engrained in Japanese pop culture.
I’d never heard of Totoro or Miyazaki before coming to Japan. I’d kind of heard of another Miyazaki film, Spirited Away, but only because of its 2002 Academy Award win for Best Animated Feature. Turns out they’re just two of many wildly popular and successful films in the Studio Ghibli catalog.
Last week accidentally turned into a Totoro pilgrimage. We’d been trying to visit the Studio Ghibli Museum for a few months. Tickets are limited to a certain number per day and usually sell out weeks in advance. We finally managed to score a pair for the last entry on a Sunday afternoon.
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Totoro and the susatawari (small black dust spirits) greet visitors at the gates of the Studio Ghibli Museum
A sign featuring a peeking Totoro points the way to Mitaka City’s Studio Ghibli Museum
A little girl dressed as Kiki from the Miyazaki film Kiki’s Delivery Service at the Studio Ghibli Museum
We found the robot from Castle in the Sky atop the Studio Ghibli Museum’s roof
We caught our first glimpse of Totoro as we entered the gates of the museum. While photos are not allowed inside, the museum’s exterior grounds offered plenty of fun photo opportunities. Inside, kids of all ages geeked out over a mix of exhibits showing different animation techniques, Miyazaki’s workspace and interactive opportunities for everyone. There’s even a film made specifically for the museum called The Whale Hunt (くじらとり).
Our Totoro adventures didn’t end at the museum though. We’ve been trying to milk the end of summer by heading out for some local hikes. While looking for something new this week, we stumbled on something called Totoro’s Forest. About 10 miles to the south of us is 8,650 acres of woodlands known as Sayama Hills.
More famously, it’s the inspiration for the lush, magical forest scenes from My Neighbor Totoro. The Totoro no Furusato Foundation has been working to preserve the area’s natural beauty over the past 25 years. If we were going to find Totoro, it seem like this was the place to do it.
The 100-plus year old Kurosuke House offered inspiration to Miyazaki and also serves as the offices of the National Trust Totoro Fund
The wandering soot spirits (susatawari) decorate a small museum at Kurosuke House dedicated to the local forests
Totora peeking out of the back room of the Kurosuke House
At Kurosuke House, we first spotted the acorns. We knew we were hot on Totoro’s trail now!
Our first stop was the Kurosuke House. The 100-year-old home is a perfectly-preserved example of early 20th-century Japanese homes and also served as inspiration for some of the home scenes in Totoro. The foundation runs a small gift shop inside and offers maps of the local area.
A basket on the outside porch contained several acorns. One of Totoro’s plot devices is how one of the girls in the movie finds a trail of acorns, which eventually lead them deep into the forest and to Totoro.
The first sign! Information about Totoro Forests #20 and #21.
On the path through forest 20, we found more acorns. Totoro must be nearby…
Crossing the mud bog that provides the majority of Saitama’s mosquito population
We were distracted by this cool looking bridge which led us deep into Not-Totoro’s Forest
After stumbling through the woods and fighting off man-sized spiders, we finally found a gate out of the woods. This sign let us know we had gone the wrong way… “This is not Totoro’s Forest”
We left Kurosuke House and headed down the road to the Tokorozawa campus for Waseda University. Just off its camphor tree-lined path was the trailhead for the first two Totoro Forest sections. We headed up the narrow mosquito- and spider-ridden path, seeing the irony of this hike taking place within spitting distance of the university’s paved bike path.
We started to see more acorns on the ground, seemingly laid on the trail as if they wanted to be followed. We stayed with the trail, crossing a mudbog that seemed to be the source of all of Japan’s mosquitos before arriving at a fork in the path. Straight ahead was a sightseeing spot. To the left, a scenic wooden footbridge leading deeper into the forest. Not wanting to get too far off the trail, we followed the footbridge.
Turned out that was the wrong decision. The sightseeing path would have taken us along the path indicated on our cartoonish map of the area. Instead, we wandered into knee-deep grass. Giant spiders weaved traps between every tree. Too far to turn back, we headed for a fence in the distance. We finally found a gate and exited back to the road. A sign on the outside of the fence read “トトロの森でわありません” or “This is not Totoro’s Forest.”
We wandered around the edge, walking in circles for the next hour before finally finding our route again. Covered in fresh mosquito bites, broken spider webs (and, it turns out, an actual spider!), I was ready to cash in this “hike,” but we trekked on. Totoro was still out there…
A view of Tokorozawa City from the hillside. Miyazaki lives in Tokorozawa.
A tea plantation in the hillside.
The sun begins to set over Tokorozawa
A meadow of camphor trees similar to the one Mei followed into Totoro’s forest home
Yamanokami Shrine was inspired a scene in Totoro
Things started looking up as we headed up into the hillside. Scenes familiar from the movie started to pop up. A lone camphor tree in a meadow recalled the gateway to Totoro’s forest home. A small shrine in the woods was reproduced in the film. From the top of the hill, we could see over Tokorozawa City. Rumor has it that Totoro’s name came from Miyazaki’s niece mispronouncing the city’s name as “Totorozawa.”
Kotiya-san, an artist with an eccentric style, came out to greet us along the path. He gave us one of his pinwheels made from old water bottles.
As the sun began to set, we knew we had better pick up the pace if we wanted to find Totoro. The houses were few and far apart in this area, but as we approached the stretch run, we came to a home with several eccentric pieces of art decorating the fence. The owner, Kotiya-san, came out to greet us. He gave us one of his pinwheels made from old water bottles and sent us on our way.
Is it Totoro?
It was just down the street from Kotiya-san’s house when we saw it. The fur. The big eyes. The ears… is it Totoro? Close, but no cigar! Likely a creation of Kotiya-san himself, a life-size version of Totoro known as Tokoro-chan made mostly from old fir branches.
We headed back into the forest one last time. The dark path was carved out of the ground with trees rising high above on both sides. There’s a scene in the movie when the family comes out of the woods that was clearly inspired by this stretch of forest.
Entering the world of Totoro
We emerged on the other side without an actual Totoro sighting, but we definitely stepped into Totoro’s world for a day. What a beautiful world it is!
Walking Guides
Walking guides of the area are available via the Totoro Fund website. The maps are only available in Japanese and lack some of the detail you’d want from a hiking map.
We followed map #3 from Kurosuke House to the Saitama Green Forest Museum. (For a custom Google Map, click here.) If you go during the summer or early fall, I’d suggest long pants and long sleeves to keep the mosquito bites to a minimum.
Back home, heading to the coast for the day didn’t require much thought. Hop in the car, swing by the grocery store for some snacks and make the hour-or-so drive to the beach.
Last Friday, we decided to spend the weekend at the Jogasaki Coast on the Izu Peninsula southwest of Tokyo. I get the sense that a “trip to the coast” isn’t something that’s just done from central Japan. It requires some planning: finding a place to stay, mapping out the three-hour train ride… however, the swinging by the grocery store for some snacks part is the same.
The snack cart on the Limited Express train, complete with beer-on-tap
But, we made it happen! Things came together nicely as we found a low-cost ryokan (Japanese inn) near the main train station in Ito city. The limited express train from Tokyo follows the coastline and, similar to the shinkansen (bullet train), offers reserved seating, a snack bar and a snack cart, complete with beer-on-tap. I’ll write more about train culture in the future—the way people behave on the different types of trains is fascinating.
Mikan (Japanese mandarin orange) ice cream at Jogasaki Orange Village
Two of Ito’s meibutsu (famous regional products): wasabi and yamamomo.
The six-glass sampler at Izu Kogen Brewery included a yamamomo champagne beer, an orange beer and a stout made in honor of the 1998 summit between Russian president Boris Yeltsen and Japan’s prime minister Ryutaro Hashimoto
Our grocery-store buffet at the ryokan included yakisoba, inari sushi and dango among other things
Tofu steak and deep-fried daizu “meat” at Cafe Sora in Ito
Locally-made Shizuoka Cola is made with green tea, of course!
Eating is a big part of traveling and this trip didn’t disappoint. We had an amazing vegetarian lunch at Cafe Sora and a fun and filling dinner at the ryokan made up of random things picked up at the nearby grocery store.
Sampling meibutsu—the Japanese word for famous products of a region—is a fun way to get to know an area. In Ito, that’s wasabi, mikan (mandarine oranges) and yamamomo (bayberry). We had wasabi ginger ale, yamamomo soda (and beer), and mikan ice cream (and beer).
The area around the coast is a national park
The Jogasaki Coast is popular with fishermen providing fresh seafood to local restaurants
A view of the Sagami-Nada Sea through the trees of the coastal hiking path
A view of the Sagami-Nada Sea through the trees of the coastal hiking path
The rocky Jogasaki coastline
This couple brought their cat hiking with them and posed for several pictures on the Hashidate Suspension Bridge.
After our lunch at Cafe Sora, we hiked along the coastal trail. From Renchakuji Temple, the path south takes about three hours to get to the Hashidate Suspension Bridge. The trail winds through forest and along the rocky coast, offering breathtaking glimpses of the sea.
Our room at Hinodeya Ryokan
The complete ryokan experience includes yukata!
Staying at a ryokan was on our short list of things to do while in Japan. We stayed at the charming Hinodeya Ryokan a short walk from Izu Kogen Station. The small guesthouse has just a few rooms and the service was excellent. We were given the quick tour and shown to our room, which was nearly as large as our apartment! A small carpeted entry area was separated by traditional sliding shōji doors leading to two tatami-floored rooms.
A chabudai (low dining table) was arranged in the middle of the first room where we were served iced green tea. The second bedroom was made up with traditional futons. We were given yukata—light cotton robes—to wear around the ryokan or even out on the town!
The shared baths were separated by gender, but they set us up in the smaller women’s bath so we could relax together. All of our previous onsen/sento experiences have been in the gender-separated baths, so this was a pleasant change to be able to share the experience.
The next morning, we were served a traditional Japanese breakfast in the main dining room downstairs. We wore our yukata to breakfast and laughed when a Japanese family entered the room dressed in their normal clothes. Oh, foreigners! The breakfast included rice, miso soup, tsukemono (pickled vegetables) and a hotplate to make a small omelette. They also had a pickled shrimp dish and a whole fish—head and all—split down the middle. We just moved the fish dishes around a bit, not wanting to be rude.
After breakfast, we were served coffee in the “family room” where the lady who made our breakfast showed us pictures of her garden. At checkout, the man who seemed to run the place asked where we were going. I told him we were headed to Mt. Omuro and he said he’d give us a ride, turning an hour-long bus trip into a 10-minute drive. Plus, riding in a car is a rare experience, so that was an added bonus!
Mt. Omuro, a dormant volcano with an archery range in its crater
Thanks to the lift, we arrived at Mt. Omuro just after the cable car opened, beating the crowds. From the top of the grass-covered dormant volcano, you can see the surrounding mountains and farmland, the village below and all the way out to the sea and the Izu island chain. An archery range has been set up inside the crater. A man and his daughter fired arrows while tourists watched from above (see the video below).
Every February, the sleeping giant burns brightly, but the scheduled fire and smoke don’t come from within. The Yamayaki of Mt. Omuro is one of the area’s most popular events as the grass is burned to promote healthy growth for the coming year.
Video: Jogasaki Coast and Mt. Omuro
Ito was the perfect weekend getaway; a soul-refreshing trip to the sea.
Update: As of February 2016, Cascadian Abroad reader Linda from Yokosuka has verified American passport holders can still apply for 10-year visas at the Chinese Embassy in Roppongi. Read on for more information and thanks to Linda for the update!
I like to think I’m pretty good at the internets, but when researching our next adventure, I hit a major roadblock trying to figure out the visa process for China. Our situation is a little unique because we have Japanese residency but U.S. passports.
Older posts indicated that we could go directly to the Embassy to apply. Newer posts said that you could no longer apply directly at the Embassy and needed to go to a travel agency. Comment after comment mentioned being turned away at the door. Even semi-official websites suggested going through a travel agency.
I turned to crowdsourcing and asked a Facebook group focused on foreigners living in Japan. Four of the five commenters replied that I’d need to apply via a travel agency.
The price difference between the Embassy and a travel agency was around $200 USD, so I figured it was worth a shot to try the Chinese Embassy first.
The Results Are In!
American passport holders living in Japan CAN apply for a Chinese tourist visa directly through the Chinese Embassy in Tokyo.
And it was actually pretty easy! While passport holders from most countries can apply for short-term tourist visas, Americans tourists can only apply for a 10-year visa. Here’s a few tips to make the process go as smooth as possible.
Fill out the forms in advance
The current visa application form is called Form 2013. The website VisaRite has detailed instructions to help with some of the funky parts.
You’ll need the following items for your application packet:
Your passport with two blank facing pages (although they only use one).
Photocopies of the identification page of your passport and your Japan residence card.
The completed four-page visa application (Form 2013).
A recent color passport photo sized 33 mm x 48 mm.
Airline tickets showing arrival and departure from China. I printed the e-ticket for our arrival flight and the website confirmation page for our departure flight. Both were accepted with no problems.
A complete itinerary showing where you’ll be staying while in China. If you’re traveling with a tour company, this should be provided when you complete your booking. If you’re traversing China on your own, you’ll need to show a detailed itinerary with dates and addresses.
An invitation letter from someone residing in China. Again, a tour company should provide this. Otherwise, you’ll need to do a little bit of research on this.
At the Chinese Embassy in Tokyo
The Embassy in Tokyo is located in the Roppongi District and is open for visa application and passport pickup from 9 a.m. until noon Monday-Friday. There is very little signage in English, but some of the security staff speaks English, so if you get stuck, ask for help.
Pro tip: When you enter the building, you’ll pass through a metal detector and your bag will be searched. Make sure you’re not carrying your X-ACTO knife or scissors as they’ll be confiscated.
Head for the third floor via the elevator or stairs. There’s an information window just to the left when you exit the elevator. Get in this line. I went on a Tuesday and the line wrapped down the stairs back to the second floor.
The woman at the information window will quickly review your application and give you a ticket with a number. Take your number to the waiting area. You’ll be called to one of the two windows on the left side.
Pro tip: Watch the number and be ready to run toward the window as they don’t waste a lot of time skipping through the numbers.
The staff at the windows speak excellent English. Give them your passport and application packet. They’ll give you a receipt and a return date. Sounds like four days is pretty average.
Picking up your visa
When you return to pick up your visa, stay on the first floor and head toward Window #6 with your receipt. The person at Window #6 will give you a numbered tag and another receipt with the amount to pay.
Go to the purchase machine by the door—similar to the ordering machine at the ramen shop! Insert your money and push the button(s) for the amount you need to pay.
Take the ticket from the machine, the numbered tag and the receipt to Window #4 to collect your passport.
After I picked up the passports from the Chinese Embassy, I headed across town to the Vietnam Embassy to apply for visas for the final leg of our journey.
You can apply for a visa-on-arrival-sorta via several websites. Basically, you’re purchasing an invitation letter from a Vietnamese company. You’ll provide this at your arrival airport in Vietnam to get the tourist visa. We preferred to get the visa in advance so we wouldn’t have to muck with any of that on arrival.
The golden fork in the road. Stay to the right…
The Embassy is buried in a neighborhood about 15 minutes from Yoyogi-koen Station on the Chiyoda Line. When you approach the embassy, there’s a gold sign hanging on the stone wall. I was distracted by the shininess, but it actually has good information on it. The actual Embassy is up the hill to the left, but the visa application center is to the right of this sign.
All you need is your visa application, passport-sized photo (trimmed to 30 mm x 40 mm), your passport and a stack of cash. The embassy website has very little info about hours, price, etc. Some of the travel agency sites say it’ll take 4-5 days to process your visa, but it only took about 30 minutes! I walked out of the application center with two freshly-minted Vietnam visas in our passports!
