Kyushu Island

Well, the trip to Kyushu got off to an absolute flyer, or non-flyer I should say, having missed the flight! I’m all for new experiences but that one was never on the list! In fact, we are normally so early that we're killing lots of time in the departure lounge. Who to blame, besides ourselves? The bus to Haneda Airport picked up every hour from quite near our house but the error was in not allowing enough time for traffic. So, the previous bus which looked miles too early on paper, was indeed the correct one. The airline staff at the check-in were very nice but at 10 minutes after the gate had closed, they clearly weren’t going to make an exception. Fair enough. No changes allowed on the ticket, so it was a case of re-booking for the next day, going back home, then updating plans for a six-day break rather than seven. Win some, lose some.

Picking up the hire-car in Oita they were happy enough to hold the booking. Why wouldn’t they be after taking payment for the no-show? Car-explanations over with (including how to pre-set the Navi which was all in Japanese - absolutely clueless at the end of the demo), it was time to head for the first stop: Beppu. Sometimes you are drawn to the sound of a place’s name as well as the apparent visit options. I don’t know why but Beppu, as a spa town, sounded quite charming. If you were asking for a three-word description following the visit, then ‘charming’ certainly wouldn’t feature. ‘Dump’ might though. It was difficult to warm to the urban sprawl which had none of the old-world appeal that you associate with health resorts. The big attraction, the 'Seven Hells' claims to spook visitors with its bubbling hot spring pools of turquoise and orange. I wasn’t really spooked but was quite relieved that the visit was on the way out of Beppu and on to somewhere else.

It is a long drive to Nagasaki down south. Following the map on the Navi is quite straight-forward on motorways but suddenly becomes a challenge when you enter urban areas. ‘Do you think that the left turn on the screen means this one coming up right now, or the next one at the lights?’ How often do you say that, and how often do you inevitably make the wrong call? Slight sinking of heart when the blue line that you are following corrects itself after you have missed a turn. Especially if the new configuration involves U-turns and the like. The constant instructions in Japanese also don’t help, calm as the lady’s voice might be, it might just as well be the sound of waves breaking on the shore, the sound of dawn birdsong, or even the chime of a 7-Eleven door opening. All equally as enlightening.

Nagasaki was surprisingly scruffy downtown, just not what you expect in Japan. It looked as though it had seen better days. A long time ago it had, due to the port being the designated trading centre once Japan had decided to end its isolation again. Up on a hill overlooking the sound are former traders’ 19th century residences which have been restored (to a point). They would have been considered mansions in their day, and still retained some of their regal presence, intimating visibly the wealth of these old foreign trading houses. There was a much earlier iteration of the theme when an offshore artificial island was created to pen in the Portuguese and Dutch adventurers. Deijima Island served as an enclosed community from 1640-1850 when trading goods were brought ashore or ferried out without the outsiders having contact with the Japanese public. The walk round the re-created cantonment, with guides in period costume, gave a fascinating glimpse of times gone by.

The other thing that stood out looking down on the harbour from the trading houses, was the effect that the atomic bomb had on the area. The deep-water ria is surrounded by hills which ensured that the blast was contained and concentrated to devastating effect. The Atomic Bomb Museum is just as sobering as the one in Hiroshima, with gruesome remnants of the consequences and disturbing detail, such as the story of the POW prison 1.7kms from the epicentre, where 100 lost their lives but even more survivors were able to give a first-hand account of the mushroom cloud and aftermath. All of this because it was cloudy on the day of the attack over the original target of Kokura!

And so, onwards to Fukuoka with plenty of time to reflect. Although I wouldn’t use that as an excuse for missing the motorway turn-off for the city and having to drive back for miles hugging the side of a mountain. Fukuoka seems to have a reputation for being hip. I don’t know where I picked that up from, and there certainly wasn’t time to see if it was true on this particular trip. One other thing of note there is the idea of eating al fresco at yatai stalls down by the river. These are little mobile food stands serving ramen or yakitori along with a beer. They are quite atmospheric at night, even if it is coat and scarf weather. As with the small bars in Shinjuku in the Golden Gai, I always feel that they don’t really want foreigners taking one of the six or so seats as they will not likely be able to contribute to the chat, which is part of the experience. Still, it is nice enough walking along, with the brisk river breeze assisting your passage as you crane over to have a nose at what everyone has on their plates.

Last stop Yufuin up north on the way to returning the car. This is a smaller spa town in the shadow of a mountain, and just like how you imagined Beppu would be. There are traditional thatched houses, rice paddies and that country feel that puts you at ease at once. The main street, full of souvenir shops and restaurants, is also tastefully done and ticks one of your trip-wishes neatly. The hotel in the lee of the mountain also had a bookable outdoor onsen with a TV in it. The remote control was inside a plastic cover just in case you dropped it into the steamy waters. You got the impression that this was not the original remote. Sitting starkers in the garden was a little on the weird side, even inside a big fence. 'What shall we do now? I know, watch a bit of telly!' As you do, when sitting by a watery rockery au naturel.
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Thus, a six-day whizz round Kyushu came and went, finishing on a positive note. I’m sure there is more to the island, but it might be a while before we are back that way.