Well, my first full week in Ehime is over, and I survived. I feel like I have been here so much longer than I actually have — isn’t it strange how that seems to happen? I’ve finally started to figure things out, I feel like. This past week, my supervisor was at teacher’s training, so I took some time to get to know the neighborhood. I found the grocery store, drug store, and conbini with no problem, thanks to the map from my lovely building managers! And I even took my clothes to the dry cleaner’s and tried to speak in Japanese with the cleaners. That went okay, until I tried to write my name in katakana and the cleaners thought I was “PT” instead of アナ (ana).
I could go on forever about all the things I’ve done, but I’ll spare you the nitty gritty. Easily the highlight of my week, and my time here so far was a trip I took with my supervisor on Sunday to Naoshima island off the coast of Takamatsu, in nearby Kagawa prefecture.
Upon disembarking the ferry on Naoshima, our first stop was visiting the six art houses in the island’s historic district. At one of the art houses, guides explained that we would be brought into total darkness and slowly exposed to dim light. They guided us into the building, telling us to feel along the walls until we came to a long, stone bench we all sat on. I know it’s the cliche, but I physically couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. This wasn’t your average, everyday darkness. In the words of Spongebob Squarepants once said, this was advanced darkness. It seemed to weigh on my eyes, and no matter how much I strained to see, nothing was visible. Maybe it says something about the way my brain works, but it was like being shut in a tomb, and I had to cross my arms to reassure myself that I still had a body and wasn’t just suspended in the nothingness. It would have been even more surreal had it not been for the small child whispering to his father in Japanese.
I wasn’t sure if my eyes were playing tricks on me, but slowly, a square began to emerge from the darkness. It grew brighter and more defined until there was clearly a screen a few feet ahead of us. The guides told us to move forward, and so I stood up and walked forward among the crowd of black silhouettes. When I reached out to touch the screen, my hands closed around nothing but air. I looked down, but I couldn’t see where the emptiness ended, in any direction.
We left the building and headed to lunch. When my supervisor showed me a list of restaurants in the area, I saw the cat cafe, and knew exactly where I wanted to go. I was a little disappointed to see that you had to pay a separate fee to sit in the cat room, but we sat down to order lunch. As she pulled out her chair, my supervisor cried out. There was a cat under the table. I happily traded seats with her so I could get some quality cat time in. The other customers were women, too, and they all squealed, “kawaii” as they watched the cats through the window to the cat room. I have no doubt that I will be visiting more cat cafes in the future.
After lunch, we visited four more art houses, my favorite of which was an old Edo-period shrine, called Go’o Shrine. We had to climb a long flight of stairs to find the shrine, and as we walked through dense trees, my supervisor commented that it was like Totoro. The shrine sat on a cliffside overlooking the ocean, and it was one of the more beautiful things I’ve seen here. The “art” portion of this art house consisted of a staircase of glass slabs that led up into the shrine. We weren’t allowed in the actual building, but a guide supplied us with a flashlight so we could venture down into a narrow cavern and view the shrine from below, shining our light on the glass stairs to make them shine like ice. I thought of the first line of One Hundred Years of Solitude (and if you know me well, you’re probably rolling your eyes right now).
Go’o Shrine was the last stop on our Naoshima art house tour, so we headed to Benesse House Museum at the request of my supervisor (and, okay, I’m always up for visiting an art museum). The Benesse House Museum is in some way affiliated with a hotel lower down on the hill, and I felt pretty plebeian mingling with all the hotel guests, who, unlike us, had their own private shuttle to the museum, could access more of the museum, and even had use of a private beach off of the hotel. The artwork in the museum was all modern art. In the main room of the museum, three metal silhouettes called “Chatter, chatter, chatter” for a predetermined amount of time before breaking into what seemed to me, at least, to be Gregorian chanting. The sound of their pre-recorded voices echoing in the open room was almost more disturbing than the total darkness I’d seen earlier.
We left Benesse House and headed back to the port. On the way, we walked along the beach and saw the two iconic pumpkin sculptures that Naoshima is famous for. We still had some time until the next ferry by the time we reached the port, so my supervisor headed off to a public bath house. I wasn’t feeling adventurous enough to brave being naked in front of equally naked strangers, so I stayed behind and grabbed some dinner, looking the most gaijin I’ve ever looked as I scarfed down some chicken tenders without the aid of chopsticks. I didn’t get lost, though (always a source of anxiety), and I didn’t have to undress in front of strangers, so overall, it was a success.
On the ferry back to Takamatsu, I felt content with my first touristy adventure in Japan. Earlier, as we walked down the hill from Benesse House, an Irish man behind us had shouted, “This is the coolest place I’ve ever been to!” and, at least in that moment, I had to agree. There’s always a sort of wistfulness, I find, that comes from leaving a vacation spot and returning to the real world. I always wonder about people who live in places like Naoshima. Do they gradually become desensitized to the beauty of their home? Is it just mundane to them now? What place gives them the same escape that their home does for others? I don’t know. But I do know that it’s always nice to make it back to your own bed, no matter how great the trip has been.
