Japan Exodus - Day 16: Rarities

Good morning for being alive, bad morning for cycling. I awoke alone. I don't mean in my tent (which, I was). I mean in the vicinity of where I had camped. This is extremely rare for the place that I am in. There are always people up at 5AM driving trucks, or elderly stretching, or what have you. And the fact that there were not anyone around, was really troubling.

The morning brought with it a strangling fog that must have intimidated many folks. Because, there was no one out or about. It was very off-putting to be in this situation. Was I really that far in the mountains? Had I taken a wrong turn somewhere? Did that evil cyclist doll put a hex on me?! 

I know what to make of all the absentees, and didn't mind letting my mind wander into the supernatural for an explanation.  I took off and made a push toward Kagoshima where a ferry that would take me the tropical island of Okinawa awaited. The ferry left at seven PM, I had to arrive at least two hours before that to buy my ticket and load my bike into the cargo hold. That meant that I had a little less than eleven hours to get about 80 km. Not impossible, actually not difficult. And with my optimism in tow, I set off for a really hazy day of cycling through foggy mountaintops. And, thats when pessimism, skepticism, and worry took the better of me. 

It began to rain. 

Up in the mountain peaks, there is not much help. You can hide out under someone's outside garage cover and hope that they do not have to go to work soon less you provide an excuse for crossing their property, or find something under a small ledge, or in a run down building (in the countryside, there are a few) of a failed business. It is not ideal, but it is dry.     

I waited in the fog. My eyes scanning the line slightly above the horizon for any signs that would show the mist giving in to the sun's clearing rays. I hunched under a small extending line of roof near the only recent intersection, waiting in the fog because with the invisibility of the mist came the unwanted rain. The rain I was familiar with and almost expecting. However, now that I was also in the mountains, the morning had brought with it a cold to pierce your grandfather's sweater. And it was a cold I was not prepared to wait in for as long as I did. Two and a half hours to be exact. Waiting. Cramped. You can see why I don't enjoy the zoos anymore.  

The vibe of my helplessness must have shown, as a man in uniform from a truck came to offer me a coffee he had only recently plucked from a machine. He had actually done some cyclo-touring himself, and knew exactly the kind of waiting that I was going through. The kindness of strangers. Not just in Japan, but all over. The warmth of the coffee (yes, Japanese vending machines sell hot beverages) felt so good against the palms of my hands. I didn't even drink the coffee inside. I held on to the can and as I did, imagined the heat spreading across my limbs and warming my core. I think a thermal image of how this induction worked would be really cool to see.  

When the fog and dark rain clouds finally lifted away from my urchin confinement (GOTG call back), the time on my watch read somewhere around noon. Again, not impossible to make my goal, but now I would really have to hurry. I was thankful that I did not made that detour the day before and visited Miyazaki city along the Eastern edge of Kyushu. 

Even though I was doing my best to keep pace, I had to stop and take a photo of this. You see, that I did not see anyone in the morning was one type of rarity. This is another. You just don't see much public art like this. Obviously not commissioned, not government sponsored. The temple grounds thought that it would be cool to turn these rocks in the mountain into a dragon. Or maybe someone always thought that the stones resembled the scales of a dragon and one day they were painted on. However they got there, and the art down on the street level, I was so surprised and happy to see all of this. 

Or, as my mother and father like to remind me, "stop and smell the flowers."

Check out this wicked coast I was cycling across. The fog of the day was still creeping around and over the valley riffs and the sight reminded me of home; San Francisco is famous for its fog. These sceneries really make me forget that I have a schedule to keep.   

Dang, and this one too. If you take a look at a map of the Kagoshima prefecture in southern Kyushu, you'll see this island immediately east of the main city. I believe it is still an active volcano. That does not simply stop the people from living along its base, or from near by fishing boats taking to the water below. This seems to always be the case, some people just don't mind, and I like the way that they think =) 

Ha! Hahaha! I made it!! The ticket vendor thought I was a little crazy since I ran up the stairs to greet an empty line at the window. Panting and out of breath but composing myself enough to walk casually up to the ticket booth, I bought my tickets to Okinawa! 

How was I supposed to know that the ship was not completely booked, right? Better safe than sorry. And now I could relax for the next day, as the ferry ride takes twenty-three and half hours. No worries. There is a restaurant, showers (I could really use one), and vending machines for snacks and beverages. 

Happiness and relief washed over me as I held the tickets in my hand. Not only were they a symbol of me not having a schedule for the next five days, the tickets represent a a kind of freedom that I have not felt in a long while. I am twenty-nine years old, I have some money in the bank, I have loved and lost and loved again, and here I am about to ride a ferry boat into the dying sunset on to a tropical island which I have never been to, where beaches and shade will occupy my biggest preoccupations of concern. It is the same feeling I had when I left for Bali a little more than three years ago.

New beer? Ok! 

As we pushed off the dock, I climbed to the observation deck where an astonishing few people and an amazing view found me. Here, up on top of the view deck looking down five stories, the rippling of the water from the ship's engines paired so well with the atmosphere's setting sun that you might think it was planned, like fire and ice.

The last photo of the day is of a man on the deck who also took the time to watch the golden sky slowly melt away into obscurity. There seemed to be two suns that night, one in the sky and one in the reflection of the Japanese sea. The man, in deep contemplation, concentration, or just awe, did'n't so much as move when the ship moved away, or far away, from the city pear, or even when the last rays of sun had vanished from over the foggy mist which had characterized the entirety of the day. 

The ferry cabin where I am to sleep is communal. I have my own sleeping area, electrical plug outlet, blanket, and hard pillow. There are other people hanging around in the room, reading or playing some game on their smart-phones. I can see the belongings of a few other people around the room who are not presently here, which means that there will be more people around when the lights go off. I couldn't care less for I am inside, there is a pillow and a blanket for me, I had a warm shower, a meal to eat, and I don't have to pack my tent up in the morning. And yet this is all a prelude the most satisfactory state of being there is to be. The thought, the mere concept has not occurred to me in weeks, and it will be so amazingly good tomorrow to wake up with the demands of my body, rather than the demands of the day, and sleep in that comfy space we for some reason must on other days pry ourselves from and begin the day like civil people.

So happy right now.

Love,
-A