Naoshima...
After bathing where royalty bathed, I left Dogo Onsen and headed east. Shikoku is famous for its 88 Sacred Temples and its henro or pilgrims. I stopped by Temple 51 and checked out the Indiana Jones style tunnel with its creepy little statues,
the giant sandals,
and stopped and chatted with a few local gods and goddesses.
I hopped a train and continued on east. I was supposed to meet up with my friend Tani-san that evening, but I wanted to stop at Kompira-san first. I was reading Sakae Tsuboi's "Twenty-Four Eyes" (a pacifist novel about a teacher and her twelve students in war-time Japan), which is set near Shikoku. They go to this big ass shrine that has 1368 steps and I thought, "If twelve fictional students can climb up this thing, then so can I!" Just as I took my first step, a rainstorm started in earnest. I could see tourists hurrying down the steps, looking at me like the jackass gaijin I was.
Actually, it was pretty exhilarating. I was bounding my way to the top. I didn't really have a chance to take in the natural and historical beauty, but the air was warm, the rain felt good on my skin, and there was that wonderful smell of a forest in the rain, with a couple wafts of lilies thrown in. And as I climbed each step, I felt more and more confident until finally, I reached the top! Or what I thought was the top. Then I remembered that there was another 400 steps and an inner shrine. I had to go for it. It ended up being a bitch! And if it had been a beautiful day, I don't think I would've bothered. But I did it! I made it to the top! And all that was there to greet me was a little worn shrine, and strange carving of two demon-looking things on a cliff and a grumpy priest, trying to close up shop and pissy cuz I was dripping on his sitting spot.
This was the view from the top:
I know what you're thinking: Where a picture of this famous shrine. Well, it was pouring and it was such a pain in the ass trying not to get my camera wet that I just took a little mental picture for myself. Now, you'll either have to go see the shrine for yourself or carve the image out of my brain.
But I felt so damn good. I flashed him a smile and made him bust out the guestbook so I could write "I DID IT"in big letters. And then I hurried my ass back down.
And the reward for this feat? (besides a big ass sense of accomplishment) My cute pregnant friend Tani-san and her sweet little mom were waiting at the station in Marugame to take me to dinner. You know that kind of hungry you get when you've been hiking and running around all day? It was just like that and my great hunger was sated by this A-mazing chicken dinner at this awesome restaurant. Maybe it was rotisseried or something, but that chicken was so damn good and that beer felt so refreshing. I'm gonna have to climb more Kompira-sans.
And my friend and her mother were so kind, it was almost embarrassing! I mean, Jesus, they did my laundry! The Japanese take pride in their hospitality, even from beyond the grave. Tani-san's father had passed away a few months ago and his ashes were still at the family shrine. I was shown how they paid respect to their dead by prayer and then Tani-san turned around and pointed to a space nearby where I would be sleeping. Huh. Okay. I can live with that. But are you sure your dad's cool with it?
I guess this was no big deal, so I just got all cozy with them and enjoyed the best cherries I ever had in my life with the fellow.
The next day, Tani-san and I did some touristy shit, checking out historical remnants of Shikoku (including this cool vine bridge)
and checking out this statue's balls.
I also sampled some of Shikoku's famous udon noodles and came across a kid who spit at me when I tried to say hello. I asked him if he wanted to come live in America with me and be my bodyguard.
The next day, I said goodbye to Tani-san and her sweet mama and hopped a ferry to Naoshima.
Granted, it was a giant pain in the ass trying to bicycle around the island with my big-ass backpack, trying to find my campsite in the pouring rain. And yes, my bag full of omiyage (presents) broke while I was pedaling around. And yes, my camera's battery died while I was exploring the island. But these are minor setbacks. This place is beautiful and lovely. My Mongolian style tent was charming and comfortable. I wanted to stay an extra day and have the fishermen teach me how to fish. Why don't I just shut up and show you pictures:
My pao tent
and the view from my 'door'
Naoshima town hall,
(Okay, I actually don't know if this square is art or something to help the fishermen or what. I saw two other squares around the island. I thought it was an installation by Walter De Maria, but I was reading my map wrong. Perfect example of being a suckered by art. But it still looks like art to me...)
Naoshima was beautiful and most of the art is incorporated in a way that is graceful and harmonious. I love it when I come across art that strikes me immediately and I found that here, not just in the art houses and museums but in the village homes and the scenery surrounding me. It's such a fun way to view art, to discover it, as opposed to the daunting task of going through a mega-museum. And I know I left so much to discover. I loved it there. I'll be back soon.
And so my tour ended. I came up with the usual shitty travel and weather luck that follows me whenever I try to get back to my island, but I made it back, exhausted and happy to be sleeping on my own smelly futon.
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