As always, I know it’s been a while. I’m conflicted right now about whether or not to write about Korea, or just skip to the meat of what’s going on in China. This entry is going to wrap things up in Japan, and over the weekend I’ll decide what’s next. Either way, after this entry, I’m going to skip forward to a trip I just went on a couple weeks ago to Southwest China, to the province of Yunnan.
So where last I left off, I think ( I don’t have access to the internet at the moment, as I’m onboard a train moving towards the city of Nanjing), I was going towards my final destination in Japan, the city of Shimonoseki.
That already feels like it was a lifetime ago. My memory is there in broad strokes, but it feels more like a memory of a movie than of something that actually occurred to me.
In any event, I took a train from Hiroshima towards my port of exit. Shimonoseki is not known for much; essentially it’s known for two, maybe three things. In no particular order, it is most commonly known to tourists as a primary port of transit with South Korea, which is the only reason I went there. Secondly, it’s the primary port in the entire world that collects fugu, or puffer fish, the infamous delicacy that can kill you if it isn’t cooked right.
If you haven’t heard of the dish, basically, its an incredibly toxic fish that has to be prepared just so. In order to be a fugu chef, you have to train for, I think, seven years? Something like that. That’s the minimum to acquire the necessary license. In addition, Japan’s emperor is forbidden to eat the dish, just in case. I have always been amused by this little fact, personally, but it doesn’t seem to elicit the same reactions from other people as it has me.
The last thing you might say Shimonoseki is known for is the Treaty of Shimonoseki, a very important treaty involving Taiwan, China, and Japan in 1895 that mostly only historians and Taiwanese people care about.
When I arrived, it was already nighttime. I only really planned on spending one full day in Shimonoseki, so I wasn’t concerned with arriving early enough to go sightseeing this particular day. Immediately after disembarking from the train, it was already dark, and I searched for a place to sleep; as there are no hostels in Shimonoseki, I hadn’t been able to make prior arrangements. But that city, like most cities, is designed in a pretty straightforward and logical fashion. A reasonable understanding of city planning goes a long way. I had one recommendation from a guidebook as to a reasonable hotel to stay in, and it wasn’t too difficult to determine which direction to head in to find the main hotels, even though the city was dead at night.
In fact, what makes cities like these so easy to fathom is its nature as a business city. Cities erected just for the purpose of buying and selling stuff are pretty much guaranteed to be laid out in a boring way, and Shimonoseki was no exception. So I headed over towards those hotels, and sure enough, it was as easy as pie to find the one in particular that had been recommended me by Rough Guides. The place wasn’t as cheap as a hostel, of course, but it was pretty okay priced, and the room itself was adequate. One of those sorts of places that you’d never write home about, aside from the fact that that’s exactly what I’m doing at the moment. After tossing all of my stuff in my room, I headed straight back out to try to find something to eat. I wandered probably a couple of miles, and stumbled across what was undoubtedly the city’s seedy night life area. It wasn’t really that seedy, but certainly in contrast with the absolute dearth of life elsewhere in the area, it was striking. I stayed away from the hookers and sex clubs and kept looking for a ramen place; ultimately I succeeded, and the few occupants inside were rather surprised to see me. I guess they don’t see too many single, young white men strolling in at that time. The lady proprietor seemed suspicious, even, but I was able to order without too much difficulty. The only two patrons other than me, two older men sitting a table caddy corner from me, seemed amused by my presence, and asked if I really liked Japanese food, and if I really liked Japanese ramen, to both of which I answered “of course!” They seemed slightly taken with my low level Japanese skills, and the situation was mellowed out, subsequently. Even the suspicious manager lightened up, asking me a tepid “oishii desu ka?” (does it taste good?), to which I replied with a hearty, agreeable, “totemo oishii desu!” (it tastes very good!) She was pleased enough with this response, and life moved on.
I wandered around for another hour or so, just trying to kill off waking energy, and then ultimately returned to my room and slept for as long as I could.
The next day, as I recall it, was inordinately troublesome. I woke up, used the internet, gathered my things, and checked out, then headed straight to the ferry terminal, as that was my only important item of business for the entire day. As soon as they had staff to do so, they opened up for business, and I purchased my ticket to Korea. I then had about, I don’t know, maybe 8 hours to kill? Something like that.
There are a few items of interest for the erstwhile sightseer in Shimonoseki, of which a few in particular seemed kind of cool.
The only problem was that I had to bring all my crap with me. There was nowhere at the terminal that I could reliably, safely leave my things, so I had to deal with hauling around my almost 60 lbs of stuff, again, everywhere I went. As far as I understood, if I just walked north of the terminal, I could follow the bayside road to see at least two or three things of interest.
What I really underestimated was how tired I’d be from hauling all of this stuff. I’m not exactly sure how far I walked that day, but I figured I probably went around 3 miles, minimum, and hauling an extra 60 lbs in the crazy summer heat for 3 miles is not a recipe for a good time. I had to take a couple of breaks, with the most notable one being one in an exhibit of sorts.
See, Shimonoseki is the westernmost city in Japan (pretty much) and lies directly across a strait from one of Japan’s other main islands (there’s four primary islands, Honshu being the largest. Hokkaido is the bit to the north of Honshu, and then there’s Kyushu and another one I can’t quite remember the name of now that I’ve been immersed in China for so long), Kyushu. There’s a bridge that extends across the strait, but there’s also an underwater/ground pedestrian tunnel, and boats as well. So when I took that break, it was in a room beside the entrance to the pedestrian tunnel, that was a sort of museum exhibit dedicated to the construction undertook to create that underground pedestrian tunnel.
The only reason I went in there to begin with was because of a teacher who accompanied me for maybe twenty minutes of my northbound trek. She was Japanese, and apparently was an English teacher, and she took a wild guess that I probably spoke English, and approached me to just chat. I think it was pretty obvious how much I was straining at the time, and she felt sort of bad for me. She was riding a bike, as I recall, and I think she took one or two of my bags in her bike basket for a while as our paths converged.
She was a rather nice lady, and we talked about all the sorts of predictable, unsurprising things that two people such as us might chat about in such a situation.
It was my hope that I’d be able to reach a youth hostel not far from there to deposit my things, if they were kind enough, as I explored a little more, and a little more easily having been freed of some of my burden. It turned out that this lady was staying at that very hostel, as she was on a small trip to see Kyushu on a break from school, and she told me that I was basically shit out of luck, as, from 2pm to 6 pm, or 10am to 2pm, or something like that, they have no staff, and the entire building is closed. Hostel residents are actually kicked out of the building for that period of time, which is the most extreme measure I’d ever heard of at a youth hostel. This meant that there’d be no one there to allow me to drop off my things, which meant that pretty much I wouldn’t be able to see almost anything that day.
She stayed with me until as far as that bridge, as she was planning to take her bike thru the pedestrian tunnel over to Kyushu and hang out there for the day. If things had worked out differently, I would’ve liked to have gone thru that tunnel as well, to at least step out onto Kyushu for 30 minutes or so, just to say I’d been to another Japanese island; alas, maybe next time.
She tried to help me find some other place to leave my things, asking security guards and the like; they wouldn’t have minded too much, supposedly, but their shift was ending soon, and it would be “too complicated” to explain to the guards who would be coming on duty after them. I can’t begrudge them for it, but it sure would have been nice. Anyway, I hung out in the shade as the teacher left to do her thing. An old man nearby soon beckoned me into a room there, and I was utterly perplexed about his intentions. I figured I had nothing left to lose, though, so I entered, and found myself in that small museum exhibition. Through rudimentary sign language and a little speech, I was able to figure out that he was inviting me in because it had really nice air conditioning, and he was trying to help me rest a bit, which I still think is kind of cute. He also put on a movie for me to watch as I sat and rested, a movie that was basically a promotional video about Shimonoseki. And boy, was it shit. You’ve probably seen videos like that before; just think of infomercials that look as though they were shot in the 70s and you’ll have a good enough idea.
Not that I was in it for the cinema.
After the movie ended and I felt recuperated enough, I continued to head north. The entrance to a mountain in Shimonoseki was a stone’s toss away, and I headed towards that. I know, I know; I was utterly miserable for hauling my crap around, and I go to a mountain? How crazy could I possibly be? Well, I was thinking I’d still check out that youth hostel just in case, as it was located on the mountain, and then figure it out from there if it didn’t work out.
Which it didn’t. The walk up to that hostel was sort of rough, but looking at the path before me for the rest of the way, I knew I couldn’t do it if I was carrying everything. The hostel was totally shut down, so I had to be a little creative. I looked around the area for a well shaded and leafed spot, and hid my things behind a statue in some bushes, by the entrance to the rest of the path up the mountain, and then quickly started to climb. I only had a few hours left til departure towards Korea, so I felt like it’d be best if I booked it, and that’s exactly what I did.
The climb up was actually quite nice, and if I hadn’t been in such a rush, I probably would’ve enjoyed it a lot more. Sure, there was a lot of crappy switchbacks, but the foliage was beautiful, and butterflies seemed to be following me everywhere. It felt like something out of a video game, a fantasy video game, and I wondered ever so slightly as to whether or not these butterflies would refill my Mana or something.
Mana refilled or not, after a 45 minute ascent, I made it to the top, and hung out around the observatory for just long enough. The reason for going up this mountain was to get a good view of the straight between Shimonoseki and the island of Kyushu; apparently, its one of the most heavily trafficked maritime lanes in the entire planet, so I felt it would be kind of neat to check out. Here’s a couple of pictures.
Having accomplished that, I basically ran back down the mountain, being a bit nervous about my things, even though Japan isn’t exactly known for petty theft. I probably made it down in 15 minutes, going at the breakneck pace that I was. All my stuff was there, crawling with some bugs, but there nevertheless.
At this point, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go see anything else, so I went out to the street to catch a bus back to the ferry terminal.
I hadn’t gotten a bus to go to the mountain to begin with, in case you were wondering, because I was unfamiliar with all the writing for locations other than the ferry terminal, so I had no idea what bus would take me where. But for getting back, I knew I could at least hop onto one of those, and so that’s what I did.
After a stop or two, there was a spot for me in the very back of the bus, right next to an old lady. She was incredibly kind, and even spoke some English. We bantered for most of the rest of the ride, in both rudimentary Japanese and English, and it was a great relief for me at the time. She too could see how strained I was, and to make me feel a bit better, she gave me a few donuts, which was all that she was carrying with her. At that point then, and even now, I wondered who those donuts were originally intended for; whatever the case, it was a godsend for me at the time, as I had no food all day, and no money with which to purchase food, because the ferry terminal attendants had only allowed me to use cash to purchase my ferry ticket, waving away my credit card, despite the fact that RIGHT NEXT TO THEIR FACES ON THE GLASS WERE STICKERS INDICATING THAT THE USAGE OF INTERNATIONAL CREDIT CARDS WAS ACCEPTED. Grr. Amateurs.
So those donuts were basically bound to get me through the entire day. Not exactly the highest quality nutrition, but you gotta do what you gotta do.
She exited the bus one or two stops before the terminal, so we parted ways, and I arrived at the terminal, having decided to just wait out the last two hours there, and not try to do anything special. As I recall, I think I used the time there to type another blog entry or two.
Most of the people populating the station were actually Koreans heading back to their homeland, and in particular there was a huge contingent of children. Individually, they were probably basically cute. Together, however, they were a freaking rabid mob, and if given the opportunity, would probably have laid waste to anything in their way.
I just tried to keep my distance, for the most part. At some point, I saw some white people, and decided to try to chat with them for a bit. In particular, it was a Dutch couple, who were also heading off towards Korea at the time.
We had pretty straightforward small talk, nothing much to rave about. They seemed kind enough, albeit odd in the way that Dutch people have just totally nailed.
The last bit of the wait is a bit of a blur.
Soon enough we queued to board, and board we did. We made our way towards our respective bunks; amusingly enough, the section of bunks I was staying in was populated entirely with white people; mostly Americans, one Brit, and all guys. One was a guy who had previously been a professor in the States, but made the transition to being an English teacher in Korea. Another two seemed to be a gay couple, and one of them was also an English teacher in Korea. The Brit was another young traveler like myself.
We spent the next half hour just exploring the ship, for the most part. Seeing as it had four levels, it was fairly large, with plenty to see. Most amusing was the Karaoke room that they had on board, which wasn’t used, but not because of a lack of interest. Rather, the interest level was probably too high, so late at night the entire restaurant area was converted into a huge karaoke bar, with mostly old women belting out their favorite tunes.
I made note of some of my other fellow passengers; ended up befriending a Korean couple who possessed a decent ability to speak English, as well as a Japanese person or two.
The boat soon started moving, and we were treated to a glorious view of the sunset. I took some pictures, but none of them do the situation justice. Nevertheless, here’s a smattering taken from atop the boat.
I was thrilled to be onboard. I’ve had an infatuation with boat travel for quite some time; it’s not something I talk about a lot, as I’ve got plenty of other interests to pursue and the like, but it’s something that’s been in the back of my mind for quite some time, and this was my first real chance to really take advantage of my freedom of choice in determining travel plans and get my water legs on. I’m sure my fellow travelers felt mostly blasé about it, but it was everything I was hoping for, and it put some serious kick in my step, despite having eaten nothing but a couple of donuts all day.
I didn’t stay on deck the entire time. At various points, I’d enter back in the hold of the boat, and try to find someone to chat with. I had a rather interesting conversation with the Dutch couple, who, according to them, were a retired field hockey player (she retired during the final stretch of training before entering the Olympics, having basically burnt out on the sport) and a guy who had just sold his share of a psychiatry firm that he had originally started with two friends, but that he felt had become too commercialized. Supposedly, they were travelling on the funds generated by this sale, and had been doing so for the previous five months. There was a look they shared together, a sort of subtle twinkle that suggested that they weren’t telling the whole story, and that there was more than meets the eye to their situation, but that they agreed without having to say aloud what they were agreeing upon to not give up the entire tale. Not that they were obligated to, of course. But that particular visual exchange just made the story and its lack of corroborating substance all the more peculiar and notable.
They also had a certain way of looking at me that was palpable. Perhaps it was my relative youth, or at least my innocence and relative lack of exposure to the world of travel, but they looked at me as though I was an amateur, and as if it was a sort of quaint and charming thing, in the way that it’s cute when small town folk visit the big city and think it’s a big deal.
Eventually, our boat came to a stop. The announcement was unclear, but the hubbub circulating the boat was that inclement weather off the coast of Korea was going to delay our arrival by several hours; we were going to drop anchor and wait it out.
To be honest, that was fine by me, and I was totally down to sit out in the middle of the ocean, with nowhere in particular that I had to be. I’m sure I was pretty much the only one who felt that way, and we all went off to figure out our respective ways to idle away the time.
At one point I went to the very most top part of the deck, and circled around aimlessly. I saw a girl sitting by herself; this girl was one I had marked at an early point in the day as easily the most beautiful girl on the boat, and I knew this was my chance.
I moved in beside her to ask if she was alright. For what it’s worth, there was a melancholy to her posture and to her visage. Whether or not I estimated it accurately doesn’t really matter, in the long run. That I made the guess and approached her about it opened the door to a very special night; we spent the next five or six hours just sitting together, talking.
I don’t remember her name. I have a lot of trouble with Korean names, and hers was no exception. Her English was quite capable, though, so we were able to have a pretty in depth conversation; it was not five or six hours spent trying to force conversation, but instead a delight. At one point, her father emerged from the hold, trying to find out where she was, but not nervously so. Upon finding us, he seemed to approve of her choice of hanging out with a blond American guy, essentially giving a big thumbs up.
Several hours later, though (at about 1 or 2 in the morning), his demeanor was a bit different. Oddly enough, after wandering around the top of the boat, which was totally devoid of other people, we settled on one spot that happened to be right in front of the porthole of a window that belonged to the room her father was staying in. All he had to do was glance through the window curtain to see us; the girl was soon after beckoned to come back and sleep.
The boat had started moving again a couple hours prior to that. At that point, I wasn’t tired in the slightest, but knew I had no recourse but to try to go sleep some. With the estimate based off of the idea that our boat had been delayed due to the weather, I figured I had about 7 hours or so available to get some sleep, maybe 8 if I was lucky.
Turns out the whole thing about the weather delaying us was a bunch of bull. The boat instead just regularly moors in the middle of the night for a few hours to make sure we arrive at a time the next morning that gives us a reasonable opportunity to catch some shut eye, as opposed to having us arrive at like 4 or 5 in the morning. So after having gone to bed at about 2:30, I had to wake up five hours later, receiving a rather unpleasant surprise from one of my fellow American passengers that I better wake up, because we were docking.
So I got up, gathered my things, and headed to the main lobby area, where pretty much everyone and their gerbil were already gathered. I saw her there again. She lived in Haeundae, a beach area in the city of Busan, which is where we were landing. The previous night, we had agreed to try to meet up again briefly, and that she would even join me after docking to try to make sure I made it to my hostel alright.
However, for whatever reason, whether it was her being scared or her dad saying no, this morning she told me she wouldn’t be able to accompany me. She gave me a couple of gifts, a bookmark with a note written on it, and a bottle of mouthwash. Odd though that might sound to the average Westerner, in this part of the world, its pretty common to give consumables as gifts, and I think she was pretty strapped for options of things to give me. I got her e-mail address, though, and hoped I’d at least be able to correspond with her a bit in the future.
I should note the fact that she had/has a boyfriend, and that she probably felt somewhat uncomfortable with the nature of her interactions with me. We did nothing but talk, but even that can mean a lot in a society as conservative as Korea’s.
We exchanged a few more glances and smiles, and that was that. The American ex-professor ended up guiding me through the first steps in getting to where I wanted to be, and we went together to the nearest metro station to get something to eat and to get situated on where I was headed next. On the first bus I got on in Korea, immediately after stepping aboard, I accidentally hit an old Korean lady with my wooden walking stick from Mt. Fuji. What a great way to start off things in Korea, eh?
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