I brought nothing I did not need. Clothes for four days, toiletries, camera, camera charger, iPod, cell phone, and wallet. And books. Oh, books were the hardest to cut down. I brought my guidebook, of course. And then, a two-ring binder (the only kind in Japan) stuffed with Wikipedia articles on the people and events of the Bakumatsu, a few essays by Romulus Hillsborough, and the diaries of Kido Takayoshi. Because, after all, I was going on this trip mainly to hunt down history, but the signs and pamphlets are all (surprise, surprise) in Japanese.
Last but not least, I had to decide what to read for fun. I had a three hour trip to the city, followed by a five hour train ride, and had to amuse myself somehow. I selected The Kite Runner by Khaled Housseini, a literary novel set in Afghanistan (and later San Francisco), which was beautifully written and a little bit depressing. I also selected Mistborn, by Brandon Sanderson, a good solid fantasy that sort of reminded me of my own writing.
In my mind, I packed only the essentials. And, to be fair, I used everything I brought. However, as much as I had cut back, all my stuff was heavy. Three books and a two ring binder with some hundred pages of computer paper start adding pounds quickly. It was only the start of the trip and already I had to divide my stuff into two bags: my backpack and a black duffle bag. All this was not a problem on day one, when I simply threw my stuff in the compartment above my head and buried my nose into Mistborn. But it became a problem on day two, when I decided to walk to Shimonoseki.
I could have taken the train or the ferry, left my stuff in a locker, and done my sightseeing unburdened. The problem was that I had arrived in Moji a little late the previous evening (4:00) and by the time I found my hotel, I was too tired to do much sightseeing. I did want to see Moji. On the other hand, there were places I desperately wanted to see in Shimonoseki, especially the place of the Bombardment of Choshu in 1864 and a statue of Takasugi Shinsaku, a great military leader from that same era. The problem was that my hotel reservations that night was in Hagi, still a good two hours away by train. I had to see the sights in two cities and still get to Hagi by a decent hour. Impossible, right?
But I found that I could walk to Mekari Park and from there take the undersea tunnel to Shimonoseki, right near the spot of the battle I wanted to see. From there I could see the statue and whatever else struck my fancy en route to Shimonoseki train station. In this way I didn’t have to go back and forth and wait for trains or boats or buses. It was an efficient use of my time. The only problem was I would have to drag my stuff, the whole way there.
Mekari Park was perhaps, forty-five minutes from my hotel by foot, but I got lost once, so it was perhaps closer to an hour. There was a shrine near the water and a mural of a Genji-Heike battle I wanted to see. The shrine was easy enough to spot. But the mural was somewhere on the top of a mountain (which, in Japan, means a moderately sized hill). And the map didn’t say where. I scrambled up one trail, duffle bag in tow, and discovered, not a mural, but a monument the French had erected in memorial of the battle. I tried another trail, but ended up getting nervous about time and gave up. It was now around 10:00.
Kanmon Tunnel, the undersea tunnel that connected the island of Kyushu to the island of Honshu, was decidedly less impressive than it sounded. I had sort of been picturing a glass tube that would show you the sea life as you walked through. But it was just a tunnel, albeit one decorated with glow-in-the-dark fish-shaped stickers. The graph showed that the tunnel wasn’t even in the ocean, but underneath it, in the earth below the water. Still, as it was free, I couldn’t really complain. It only took about twenty minutes to get to the other side and I rode up the elevator practically on top of the site of battle.
I’m not going to bore you with details about how I practically squealed with glee over the rows of cannon replicas or how I gazed over the water trying to imagine the ensuing fight. Suffice it to say, Becky, the history nerd, was satisfied.
Later I walked along the water’s edge, visiting anything that caught my fancy. I stopped at the bright red Akama Shrine and the sight of the signing of the Peace Treaty to end the Sino-Japanese War (1894-1895). I also found a monument to Korean envoys, who held diplomatic relations with Japan during the supposed “closed” Edo era. I didn’t know that. I had lunch at a fish market and asked weird questions at the Akita Commerce Building.
I have to say, walking is one of the better ways to get to know a city. (Bicycle is best, though.) You stumble upon things you wouldn’t normally see just looking out from a bus, and you start to feel a connection to land. I enjoyed the blue skies, the crisp breeze, and the lovely cherry blossoms. However, by the time I finally started to hunt down my statue, I was getting very tired. My shoulders were stiff and my duffle bag drooped.
On the map, the statue didn’t look so far away. But the map didn’t take into account that the statue was on top of a hill. A very high hill. I didn’t know this until I came to ten thousand steps ascending upwards. I wouldn’t have minded, except that I was carrying a heavy backpack and a heavy duffle bag. And I had been dragging these around all day.
But, what could I do? I climbed up the hill. Took a picture of the statue. And climbed back down. I came to the train station at around 3:00 and got to Hagi in time for dinner.
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