I woke up early to glorious sunshine streaming through my window and decided to nip out to Itsukushima shrine before breakfast (thankfully, my shoes had dried overnight). There were beautiful long white clouds threading their way through the mountains and skyscrapers on the mainland, I was snapping away before the torii was even in view.
The tide was in, so I saw the torii in all its glory. There were already quite a few people out taking photos, but the real crowds hadn’t arrived yet. I passed people setting up stalls and photographers arranging tripods and benches, and one man feeding a large group of deer (who looked much happier now the rain had stopped).
Itsukushima shrine is built like a large dock, on a wooden platform out over the water. The island of Miyajima was revered as such a holy place that ordinary people were not allowed to set foot on it until relatively recently, so all worship had to take place on the platform. The reason for the floating torii was that there couldn’t be a gate on land, as the shrine was approached by water.
Despite the early hour, the shrine was open to visitors, and I was able to buy a ticket without queuing. There were priests in crisp hakama trousers cleaning and preparing everything for the day.
I spotted a deer that had gone for a dip between the shrine buildings:
There is a long pier where people queue up to take photos of the torii straight on, and there were already a handful of people waiting patiently. I spotted an old couple taking it in turns to photograph each other, and offered to take a picture of both of them together. I think they mostly agreed so I would go away faster, but they seemed pleasantly surprised with the result (apparently I’m much better with other people’s cameras!).
On the way back to my hotel, I passed swarms of people, all heading in the opposite direction, and also spotted a bridal couple in a rickshaw (who were being photographed almost as much as the torii!). I was very glad I had decided to visit so early.
The hotel’s breakfast was simple (toast with butter and jam, a boiled egg and a tiny helping of potato salad), but very delicious. I ate at a table in the lobby and watched hordes of tourists walk past on their way to the shrine. Again, I really recommend Sakuraya – an extremely pleasant and convenient place to stay.
The ferry back to Hiroshima was fairly empty (everyone was heading in the opposite direction!), and I was actually able to enjoy the view this time.
From the opposite ferry terminal, I caught a tram to the city centre, and sat down opposite a lady with a chihuahua in a box. She proceeded to introduce her dog (Nanako-chan) and told me all about her, not seeming to mind that I understood about one word in ten. Nanako-chan was on her way to the vet to have (this bit was mimed out so as not to upset her) injections. The bug-eyed little dog was panting nineteen to the dozen, but didn’t seem to mind being carted around in a box. Her owner gave me a couple of sweets before she got off (an interesting combination of lime and menthol) and waved from the platform as the tram pulled away.
I had already looked up the timetable of ferries to Matsuyama (thank you, mobile wifi!), so I reached Hiroshima city centre knowing I would have some time to kill either there or at Hiroshima Port, so I nipped into the same (huge) underground shopping centre I had eaten lunch in the day before, and found a café for a cup of tea (and, of course, cake).
The (delightfully dinky) slice of cake came with a square of cheesecake on the side, for some reason, but this was the Asian-style, actually-tastes-of-cheese kind, so I gave it a miss. (Perhaps it’s unadventurous of me, but I have always been highly suspicious of baked goods that smell like feet.) As it turned out, I didn’t have any lunch, so the strawberry cake was useful in tiding me over until supper (another good reason to indulge whenever the opportunity presents itself!).
At the port, I seriously impressed the lady at the ticket desk by managing to buy a ticket and ask (and understand) directions to the pier entirely in Japanese… until she started to compliment my grasp of the language and my familiar rabbit-in-the-headlights expression returned. I’d better keep studying!
I boarded the car ferry in good time, and found a seat near the front. Few of my fellow passengers were particularly interested in the view, though – for most of them, the ferry trip must have been a familiar commute. I enjoyed myself – the sun was shining, the Seto Inland Sea was gleaming, and all sorts of interesting ships were passing by. A lot of the islands we passed had decent-sized harbours, and I spotted lots of hillside houses which must have stunning views. I also learned that Dover isn’t the only place with beautiful white cliffs.
I purchased nautical provisions from the ferry’s bar – coke and pringles, that is. Japanese pringles taste exactly the same as the ones we have in the UK, which I actually find quite strange.
I also bought a packet of what I’m pretty sure were melon-flavoured chewy sweets, rather than melon-flavoured gum. I did try to double-check with one of my fellow passengers, with the help of my phrasebook, but I had the distinct sense he was humouring the crazy tourist.
I found my Matsuyama hotel on the second attempt – I knew I was looking for a skyscraper opposite a garden, but the first one I tried turned out to be some sort of office building. Thankfully, a man in the foyer was able to give me directions to the actual hotel, which turned out to be surprisingly swanky for the price (thank you, Booking.com!). I felt decidedly out of place among the elegant guests and immaculate staff, not least because I was (of course) the only person feeling the heat of the very sunny May day.
It was early evening by this point, so I limited myself to one sight – the Dogo Onsen, which the enormous bathhouse in Spirited Away was apparently based on.
I caught the tram from a stop close to my hotel. It was early evening, and most of the other passengers were either returning from work or school or on their way out for the evening. The atmosphere was convivial, and several people spotted friends further down the tram and sidled over for a chat.
Although not quite as big as its fictional counterpart (and, as far as I know, not frequented by spirits), the Dogo Onsen is a very impressive building. It is a short walk from the tram station, through a covered shopping arcade selling all kinds of local produce and souvenirs. There were plenty of onsen customers milling about in their yukatas (both from Dogo and the other local establishments – Matsuyama possesses several) after a relaxing afternoon’s bathing. No one else seemed to be hungry yet, but it had been a long time since my last proper meal (pringles don’t really count as lunch), so I ducked into the Madonna Cafe, an extremely kitsch (and empty) restaurant run by a very efficient couple. I had a sort of Japanese take on pasta – a portion of linguine, tossed with stir-fried vegetables and ham in an orange oil. Quite good, actually, although I got the impression that the cook had seen Italian food but never tasted it.
I hung around for a little light shopping (the local textiles are very pretty, although the onsen customers seemed much more interested in pungent, soy-coated seafood snacks) and admired the Botchan Clock, which features characters from a famous local novel who come out to dance as it strikes the hour. There was quite a crowd gathered for this occasion.
There were also some foot-bathing pools, presumably designed to help people cool off on hot days, although no one else seemed to need it.
The tram station was quite busy as I set off back to my hotel, with lots of dejected-looking young men hanging around outside, waiting for their girlfriends to stop gossiping with each other. I was quite taken with the to-scale steam train (also a reference to the Botchan book) which was parked outside the station, but the locals dodged past it without a second glance.
I stopped off in a combini on the way back, and bought an enormous, discounted tub of pineapple chunks for dessert (and vitamins – I was learning how to survive Japan without contracting scurvy!).
Tinpot travelogue 