Aomori to Ibusuki - Japan

AOMORI to IBUSUKI - JAPAN

In England we say from John O' Groats to Lands End while in India a
journey of epic proportion can be likened to going from Kashmir to
Kanya-kumari. In Japan I would like to think there can be coined a
phrase "from Aomori to Ibusuki". Hokkaido apart these two small towns
represent the extremes of mainland Japan.

So it was that on a warm and sunny morning I set off early for the
Shinkansen (Bullet train) terminal of Tokyo Station to catch the 9-07
am Hikari Express bound for Kokura not quite at the end of the Tokaido
line West of Tokyo which actually terminates at Hakata in Kyushu. In
less than 5 hours with only 8 stops I as to be whisked along at
speeds of up to 230 km per hour 1000km to the Western island of Kyushu
which is joined by bridge to the main island of Honshu.

In London on my way to Heathrow I had stopped off at Oxford Circus to
visit Nippon Travel in Poland Street just off Oxford Street to collect
my Japanese Railways Pass.
As I'd wandered thoughtfully down Poland Street my path had been
blocked by a double baby buggy pushed by an earnest mother trying to do
her shopping . " Hello Derek" came a familiar voice - it was an old
friend I hadn't seen for some time "What are you doing here?" she asked
"I'm on my way to Japan" The reply sounded rather hollow but
as I got back on the Tube for Heathrow the reality hit me. I was on my
way to Japan and I had no particular plans for what to do when I got
there . This was very much a spur of the moment decision - I had only
booked my flight three days before and although I have some friends in
Japan none knew that I was on my way.

However at Heathrow I made a call to Tokyo ....." Hannah" I shouted
through the static as my ?10 phone card plummeted to base camp "I'm
coming to Tokyo" Hannah and her husband had been working in London for
three years and I had got to know them well - now they were back in
Japan and I hoped it would be possible to visit them. So it was that my
first couple of days had been spent at their home. Now however I was on
my way again and heading West at high speed .

At Kokura I changed from the Shinkansen to a much more sedate but still
euphemistically named "Express" for Oita some half way down the East of
Kyushu Island. It had been Kokura that the pilot of the US Air Force
B29 bomber "Bocks Car" flew over with his "Fat Man" Atomic Bomb looking
for the clouds to clear so that he could get a clear
view of his target ... the people of Kokura would have breathed a sigh
of relief as the pilot turned and headed for Nagasaki on that fateful
day which for many would be the catalyst for the end of the War in the
Pacific but for thousands would mean death destruction and changed
lives. Nagasaki followed Hiroshima's fate of a few days earlier and the
Urakami suburb was destroyed in a few moments with 150 000 dying there
and then or later of their wounds. Leaving Kokura behind I reached Oita
in the early evening and was collected by a Japanese lady I had not met
before but through an International organisation I had been able to
arrange an evening in a typical Japanese home.
The ride home took half an hour and as I sat in the back of her VW
Passat I wondered whether it had been driven straight out of the
showroom such was its pristine condition. I later learned it was over
four years old . Rarely in Japan do you see a car which looks over
about three years old but the critical age of a car is nine years at
which stage it must pass a rigorous MOT type test called the Shaken
which costs about ?600 and hence forth is required annually.

In my hosts home I was shown to an upstairs tatami bedroom (traditional
rooms are always measured in "tatami" e.g. a room may be described as a
six tatami room which would equate to a small double bedroom in
England) The tatami mats fit precisely
in the room and would be renewed after a number of years as a fitted
carpet would be.
After struggling with chopsticks over the evening meal and making
conversation I was given the opportunity of practising my English
language in front of an impromptu group of about a dozen children aged
ten plus. This went down well with my host and I felt that I had
contributed something. It was then time to be taken to the local temple
where I watched a rehearsal for some Japanese dancing complete with
bows and arrows as
props but minus the very colourful costumes which were carefully taken
out for my benefit. Some of the wooden masks were over fifty years old
and were very skilfully crafted and painted.

Next morning as I was driven to the station through the heavy and often
stationary rush hour traffic to catch an 8-22 am train it began to rain
steadily - and in a very English way I could sense it would rain all
day.
I had just missed a typhoon and another was on its way. To my innocent
question as to whether a hurricane or a typhoon is worse I learned that
hurricanes happen over the Atlantic whilst typhoons occur over the
Pacific - and this was the typhoon season in Japan.

At Ibusuki on the very Southern tip of Kyushu the rain was if anything
worse and without the benefit of a host I trudged through the rain -
about a forty minute walk to the local Youth Hostel - it really pays to
be an International Y H member as they are by far the least expensive
accommodation in Japan . They cost about ?15 per night or ?30 with two
good meals. The downside is that lights go out at about 10pm and a late
night check in is strongly discouraged. As the rain continued to fall I
determined not to let it spoil my plans so I crossed the road to the
beach by the Ginsho Hotel and paid 700Yen (?5) donned my Yukata and was
filled in by the local ladies of the Parish!

A burial pit was prepared and I made sure my Yukata (a robe) was tied
up the correct way - the wrong way and it indicates burial of the dead.
My mistake however was to have had a shower beforehand and as I lay in
my "tomb" with only my head above the level of the beach the water
soaked up the sand. Also drops of water dripped down my nose and cheeks
and my constant desire was to itch my face. The whole point of the
exercise was that under the beach is a hot spring and as you lay in the
sand the heat comes up and cures all ills - "especially good for young
ladies" as the information board sparingly
translated into English explained.
In nearby Kagoshima a volcano still active regularly erupts showering
the local town with dust if they are lucky and destructive lava on the
rare occasions that its full force is
unleashed. It had rained all evening and as far as I could make out
most of the night as well but the morning brought fresh cheer and I set
out for the station. Changing trains at Kagoshima I caught the Express
to Hakata with about thirty seconds to spare.
There had been two options with the Rail Pass - Ordinary and Green
(First Class) the latter being ?240 against ?180. Now reclining in a
wide seat in the green compartment and
sipping Japanese green tea served by the conductress I did not regret
my decision to spend the extra ?60. This was the way to travel. The
countryside - mostly rice fields ready for harvesting were interspersed
by small hamlets - floated by at a leisurely pace.
No time for sightseeing in Hakata - my guidebook informed me there
were few reasons to linger in the town - I jumped aboard a Shinkansen
literally minutes after leaving the earlier train.
The Shinkansen was originally conceived in 1959 to provide much needed
relief to the heavily congested Tokyo to Osaka line. The research
technological development and construction took just a few months
longer than the planned five years and it opened for business on 1st
October 1964 timed well to coincide with the Tokyo Olympics.
It operates on standard gauge tracks compared with Japan's normal
narrower gauge and therefore is a railway system independent of the
rest of the network. Sadly the principal
architect of the system resigned a couple of years earlier after a
train collision in the suburbs of Tokyo which killed and injured many
passengers. It is reported that his forced
resignation brought much sadness. Features designed into the Shinkansen
system were safety comfort and punctuality. Since the system came into
operation there have been no injuries, the comfort of the ride I can
attest to - the seamless rails cut out the clicketty clack and on no
occasion on my journey did any train leave late or arrive early or late
- every time the train would pull into its destination spot on
time.
A dilemma now faced me - my hopes of visiting Nagasaki in the 50th year
after the bombing now dissolved as I now entered Honshu island again
with Nagasaki on the Western part of Kyushu far behind.
Plan B now emerged and I jumped off the train at Hiroshima and made
enquiries about Capsule hotels at the tourist information. "Yes we have
Capsule hotels here but only if you
can speak Japanese" Heading out of the Station armed with a town map I
got on a
tram bound for the Peace Memorial Park. It is said that the reason the
trams here are many different colours is that as other cities closed
down their tram systems Hiroshima bought
them up. About a 10 minute ride away was the Dome which stands on the
edge of the Peace Memorial Park as a lasting reminder of the A - Bomb
which dropped on 6 August 1945 at 8-15am. The building once the
Industrial Promotion Hall lies in ruins but the structure of the dome
is still there and as I walked across the park to the museum it was
hard not to try to imagine this as a busy town centre prior to the
bomb. The museum itself
for a nominal charge offers a splendid and moving insight into the town
before the bomb and also to the efforts of the people of Hiroshima to
secure lasting peace in the world. Every time a nuclear device is
tested the Mayor of Hiroshima sends a telegram to the leader of the
country concerned protesting about the use of nuclear technology for
bombs. It has been said that an eternal flame burns in the park but the
proposal is to extinguish
the flame when the last nuclear warhead in the world has been
destroyed.
I became increasingly drenched as I walked back to the tram stop. It
was almost 6pm - I had nowhere to stay for the evening and the rain was
getting heavier.

Again my plans changed and I found myself back on the Shinkansen.
Spending the next hour thumbing through rail schedules and guidebooks I
settled on spending the night in
Nagoya. Telephoning the Youth Hostel I did not get a very positive
response but they eventually relented and agreed to let me check in
past the usual 9pm deadline .
Next morning I found an English speaking church and enjoyed cake and
chat afterwards with a very international congregation By mid-day the
typhoon had caught up with Nagoya and once again the rain fell and the
winds blew.
Taking quite a long walk through the city my pack was getting heavier
and it was with some relief that I found the station again By this time
I was getting used to jumping on trains without a reservation but now I
made a mistake which could have cost me
dear. As I found the Shinkansen platform a whistle blew and I saw a
train bound for Osaka - instinctively I jumped on. As it pulled out I
heard the announcement "Welcome to the Nozomi Super Express" I had
caught the only train which my pass does not cover - the Nozomi is the
new breed of Shinkansen and is capable of speeds of up to 270 km per
hour. I quaked as the conductor came up to me , studied my pass and
went off to consult with a colleague . Very kindly he did not make me
pay but this 35 minute ride could have cost me about ?50. Getting out
of the train at Kyoto ancient capital of Japan the heat overcame me and
the sun beating down was in sharp contrast to the previous days.
Another train South to Nara another old Capital of the country I met up
with Ken an American of Japanese descent who had agreed to put me up.
We had interesting discussions about Burma - a country dear to his
heart and one to which he plans to visit when it is free of the
military rule which now dominates the people.
Ken and his wife were very kind and welcoming but my tight schedule
forced me to press on. In the daytime I explored the city of Nara and
wondered at the temples and the strange phenomenon of deer left to
wander the streets of the town. At one temple I was approached by three
very curious college
girls who wanted to ask me some questions for their college project.
One explained that she is studying Wordsworth but did not really
understand it. Not surprised I recommended she read Winnie the Pooh and
she produced a Walt Disney handkerchief with that famous Bears image on
it to great amusement. I explained that A A Milne had written the book
and not Walt Disney. Yet another telephone call had resulted in an
invitation to visit and I found myself staying at the house of the
mother of a friend
I had met in England. Osaka is a big city but I was staying in the
suburbs a little way out of town - in fact it felt like the
countryside. Walking through the rice fields I commented on the red
flowers growing alongside the rice and learned they were Higanbana
flowers - a name which reminds Japanese people of
the special day each year when they go to a place to honour their
ancestors.
Before leaving I paid my own homage to my friends grandfather who had
died earlier in the year - remembered by a simple shrine in the house
of a relative nearby. Back on the Shinkansen the countryside swept past
and soon I was in Tokyo. I had covered the 500km in two and a half
hours. Studying the time table had indicated a train would very soon
leave East and once again I was on my way courtesy of JR. As on
previous days my nights sleep was far from certain but study of the
Youth Hostel manual indicated that at Yamagata one of three of the
Eastern terminals of the Shinkansen network was a hostel with water fed
from the Kurosawa hot spring. This proved to be an excellent decision
and the hostel turned out to be the most traditional yet and even
better I had a tatami room to myself. The hot bath relaxed me and the
grasshoppers especially noisy at this time of year sang me to sleep at
the
hostel approved time of 10pm. I awoke - another sunny day - back at the
railway station I
reserved a seat on the first available train to Akita. The scenery
became a little more rugged but now from the window I could see the
rice fields were being harvested by what appeared to be mini tractors
appropriately sized for the tiny fields. Agriculture whilst intensive
is still rather inefficient and tends to be a small time operation. At
Akita I caught a train for Aomori my final destination at the Northern
end of Honshu. Past this the tunnel takes the railway network into
Hokkaido and on up to Sapporo and beyond. Aomori used to be a busy
ferry terminal and port before the tunnel but is still prosperous as a
stopping off point on the way to and from Hokkaido. I would have liked
to have lingered but two minutes later I was on an Express bound for
Morioka. The train made steady progress South along the coast with some
beautiful views of the bay and to my left the sun slowly went down.
With the darkness I plugged in the headphones provided and selected the
station which plays the old Madonna and Pet Shop Boys songs that have
been orchestrated for the Japanese market. At 5-52 p.m. the train
arrived at Morioka. It felt very much like a commuter train as people
got off quickly to make their connection. My own was the Shinkansen to
Tokyo which I made with three minutes to spare and at 6pm I was on my
way once more. Had I caught the train which left ten minutes later
which stops at all stations I would have had to spend ninety minutes
longer on the train. By this time I was glad just to arrive.
My journey over I was warmly greeted by my friends and fed with curry
and rice. I slept with difficulty that night with all my memories of
the previous week running through my mind.