After spending the night in Beppu, my road trip was almost over. I still had a whole day to make the 3-hour drive home, though, and decided to make a few stops on the way. After browsing the Golden Week sales at Oita City’s Park Place mall, I headed to Usuki. The former castle town is known for its stone paved alleyways and old samurai residences, and also a group of mysterious statues carved into its cliff side.
The rain had cleared up by the time I got back from the cave into Bungoono proper, so I took myself off to see the Harajiri Falls, nicknamed the “Niagara of the Orient”.
I’ve discovered that Japan is sometimes guilty of exaggerating its attractions in write ups, though, and the falls are no exception. They are indeed beautiful, and earn the 91st spot on Japan’s Top 100 Waterfalls list, but at only 20 m (66 ft) high and 120 m (410 ft) wide, they don’t live up to the comparison. Nevertheless, I would be lying if I said I didn’t marvel at them just a bit.
Nature in Japan seems to manifest itself completely at odds with the order and structure of its society; vegetation swallows everything that stands still for too long, bugs and insects grow into caricatures of themselves, and the earth erupts and quakes at its will. But of all the islands’ natural wonders, it is the forests that fascinate me the most.
It is where the Gods are believed to have lived, where priests sought refuge from persecution, where people stillgo for spiritual guidance (and, rumour has it, where they grow spiritual guidance), where they abandon their belongings, and sometimes their lives. The forests are full of secrets, and in the mountains of Bunganoo, they keep one more: the Inazumi Underwater Cave.
Afternoons would be my favourite time of day, I thought as I weaved in and out of the streets of Taketa town, if they weren’t so melancholic. The roads had been painted gold by the last of the day’s sun, and the afterglow was just enough to lose my mind in. Then suddenly – BUM! BADUM-BUM-BUM! – the sound of drumming yanked me sharply out of my daydream. What on earth could be causing such a commotion this late in the day? Curiosity piqued, I decided to follow it.
As I walked up the giant steps to the site of the old Oka Castle, a haunting melody, blasting out from hidden speakers, followed me. The song, called Kojo no Tsuki (or, Moon over the Castle’s Scattered Ruins), was composed by one of Japan’s most renowned pianists. Rentaro Taki (滝廉太郎) spent many of his childhood years in Taketa, and the castle is said to have inspired his famed composition.
Two years ago, I would have never considered disappearing into the countryside for 4 days by myself. Growing up in a city where danger is perceived to be lurking around every corner, having backup was always essential for when the shit inevitably hit the fan. But in Japan, I feel safer, and while I still lock my doors and check them at least once before bedtime, being alone doesn’t really make me jump any more.
So when “Golden Week” – a cluster of public holidays in the same week – began to approach, I decided to do something I’ve never done: road trip solo.
Mark and I have been joking that I should rename my blog “Following Mark around Japan” since the last couple of posts have all been about my adventures with him. And this one is no different; on Wednesday it was Showa Day, and since we both had the day off from school, we decided to head down to Mimata Town to check out the Hayauma Festival.
Hayauma is a supplication festival for the increase of animal stocks. It takes place at different venues throughout Japan, but every year on April 29, you can see it in Mimata Town. The Google translate version of the town’s website had the venue down as ‘Hayuma Shrine’, but when we put that into Google Maps, the GPS led us to the local bowls tournament.
Up until Saturday, my music festival experience consisted of five dusty days at Woodstock 9 in the highway town of Harrismith, Free State. So when Mark invited me to celebrate his birthday with a couple of friends at a two-day gig in Hyuga, I was game.
But first I had to go to work. It was PTA Day at school and while the other teachers were giving lessons in front of the parents and attending meetings, I was in the office keeping the desks and chairs company.
As I thought about the less pleasant side of our Woodstock trip (our tent being raided and the bathrooms getting clogged on the first day), I wondered what a Japanese music festival would be like. The hours ticked by, and finally, at 5pm, I hit the road.
Miyazaki is definitely an underrated prefecture, and one of the more un-known, buried in the depths of Google’s search results, under all the pages dedicated to Hayao and his many castles. But the great thing about living in the middle of nowhere is that there are plenty of places hiding in the countryside, waiting to be discovered.
One such gem is Tōgō-chō [東郷町], a beautiful little mountain village 20 minutes outside of Hyuga city (although it merged with Hyuga in 2006). It is the birthplace and hometown of the famed poet, Wakayama Bokusui.
“Woaah!” I exclaimed to Mark. “Are you seeing this?” The red shrine that he was investigating wasn’t enough to distract me from the roar of water falling down. An unexpected stop on our roadtrip to Miyakonojo had led us down a flight of stone stairs to meet the majestic Sekino-o Falls.
With the cherry blossoms forecasted to open in Miyazaki later this week, our original plan was to see if we could catch any early bloomers; the sakura festivals will take place around Miyazaki next weekend but I’ll be away in Nagano and Nikkō then.
We had been in Mochio Park, enjoying the couple of blossoms that had opened and the tree lilacs in full bloom. We were definitely too early to see the sakura in all of their pink and popcorn glory, though. But the view of the surrounding countryside from Mochio Shrine was pretty impressive.