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22 September 2023

• Shuttle to ferry terminal, 10:25-11:10 Rebun island (Kafuka port) to Rishiri island (Oshidomari port) ferry
• Exploring Rishiri Island by car (~2h)
• Onsen (2h)

Farewell to an Island Like No Other

Last night, I’d set an alarm for 7:30 (hostel time) / 7:00 (Japan time). Luggage delivery service was until 8:10/7:40, and the first shuttle to the ferry terminal at 8:25/7:55.

At 6:30/6:00, all hell broke loose. Alarming, deafening beeping, screams of “good morning”, music, cheers, clapping, feet dashing on wood.

From here on, it was impossible to sleep. The announcements were every 2-5 minutes, repeating the same instructions. “Good morning, today’s schedule is as follows, please return your sheets to reception, please cooperate…”

THE SAME SENTENCES. EVERY COUPLE OF MINUTES. WE HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME.

WHY.

The dining hall closed at 7:20/6:50 (WHY?), so stale Seico Mart onigiri for breakfast were first. Then, organizing my luggage for the delivery service. Then, the staff handed out brooms and rags and played music, and everyone chipped in and cleaned the floors, myself included, because any activity at this hostel was impossible to ignore and not partake it. They yelled and encouraged everybody, and it was like a cleaning party. Then, we had a calm twenty minutes to chat.

The Biei ojiisan approached me with a handwritten note with dates I could stay at his house. This sort of thing had often happened to me in the countryside: befriending elderly Japanese people and meeting them in their hometown. The Ashikaga couple, the Ochiai couple, now him… I would swing by Kamifurano soon, close to Biei.

After resolving to do the 4-hour course yesterday, he’d opted for the 8-hour course at the last minute, despite the dangerous waves. In the end, the tricky section was passable.

Everyone introduced themselves on the shuttle back to the ferry terminal. Name and reason for coming to Rebun and this hostel, and where they would go next.

“Kesem, now you,” the bespectacled guy said, essentially introducing me already. “How was the experience?”

I thought for a moment and then said,

??????????????????(“I’ve never met such lively Japanese people”).

Everyone broke into laughter, as boisterous as any sound inside the hostel. It was true. This hostel was like taking a ferry to another country. Japanese people were always shy and reserved.

Perhaps this explained why the hostel featured its own time zone. You entered another world, both in space, behaviour, and time.

At the ferry terminal, the 8:25 ship arrived. The bespectacled guy handed me a wooden pole with a flag of the hostel. We waved and shouted ????????.

The ferry docked, and the guests departing to Wakkanai boarded. We waved goodbye and danced for them and sang and screamed ?????????????????

The guests grinned and waved back and, as the ferry departed, yelled back.

After two days of clouds constantly engulfing Mt Rishiri’s summit, today the tip was completely in the clear. The sea was sparkling, the ship was growing smaller and smaller, yet the guests’ shouts were still audible, despite the distance.

It was an unforgettable moment, an unexpected highlight of this trip, one I would like to re-experience. The bespectacled guy and I half-joked that we would meet again in June. I doubted either of us was joking.

Rishiri Island

After this, I bought some souvenirs, even though I was way over budget. I couldn’t leave such a remote and beloved island empty-handed. Then, we boarded the ferry.

No storm today. The best possible weather. Not too warm, nor too cold. Clear and gorgeous.

I felt déjà vu to Japan’s Miyajima and Korea’s Somaemuldo. Both tiny islands, among my favourite places of their respective countries, which I’d visited on nigh perfect days. The ferry back from both was a glorious moment, with a diamond sea and exhilarating emotions.

My intuition had told me that even past the blooming season, going all the way to Rebun would be worth it. Despite Cowboy’s protests. Whenever I’d ventured as far as possible – to the most remote island in Korea, the most remote valley in Japan – I emerged with some of the most memorable moments of my life, and teaching experiences.

As I’d written on the way back from Miyajima:

The return ferry was just as glorious. Gentle breeze, diamond sea; caressing sun. The view of the green island with the pop of light pink and the red o-torii. I noticed a black starfish swimming, and smiled. Life could be good when it wanted to. It could be grand.

“A Moment of Silence” (28 March 2023)

The Meguro ojiisan and I docked in Rishiri island. A bigger, more developed version of Rebun.

We ate lunch at 11:30 at a funny café in front of the ferry terminal. “TAKEOUT! FUCKING GOOD” the façade read. I’d asked to eat here owing to their famous kelp brownies… which were sold out.

At 11:30.

Instead, we both ordered a hokke kamaboko (basically, a fried fish ball – delicious), and ramen with okaka (finely chopped bonito flakes) and thick noodles and soy sauce.

Himenuma Pond

He rented a car from the agency next door and we dropped off my luggage at my accommodation near the ferry terminal.

The famously delicious melonpan at a local bakery was sold out.

I bought a Pikachu pastry instead and ate it in Himenuma pond, a five-minute drive from the ferry terminal. An artificial swamp known for its mirror-like reflections of Mount Rishiri: the scenery was stunning on today’s fine weather, yet the water, too green to reflect the mountain.  

(The pond was named after the kokanee salmon, “himemasu” in Japanese, that had been released into it. Not after princess, “hime” in Japanese.)

We strolled along the twenty-minute path that circled the pond and then drove southwest to a sweets shop. A kuma bamboo grass pudding as a consolation prize for the shop being all out of Rishiri island’s famous water.

Shiroi Koibito Hill

Another five-minute drive and we reached Shiroi Koibito hill (“White Lovers’ hill”).

When a former president of Ishiya had visited Rishiri Island, he’d found this outlook of Mt Rishiri as breathtaking as the scenery in Switzerland, and made this image the package of the famous Shiroi Koibito chocolate.

The ojiisan and I marvelled at our view. The mountain and a nearby pond. Wakkanai in the distance and wind turbines.

I’d visited the company’s factory in Sapporo on February 17, but hadn’t tried their chocolate myself, shipping it to my family instead. I had to try it upon my return to Sapporo.

Back to the car. Every time we got into the car, I practically dozed off. I could not keep my eyes open.

We continued to a park that wasn’t really a park – just a cliff. I saw gigantic sheets of kombu drying in the sun. Then as we drove northwest along the south coast, we stumbled upon a water fountain by the road.

“Sacred mountain springs,” the sign read.

Rishiri island’s mountain water was as clean as it was cold. Just like the water I’d drunk in February in Kawayu Onsen. Top notch.

Fureai Onsen

Our final stop was an onsen. Prior to coming to Rishiri, I’d known there was an onsen near the ferry terminal, but this morning, my accommodation recommended to us one on the west coast instead.

As soon as I walked in, my heart fluttered. The water was the same hue as my face while throwing up. I’d only encountered one onsen with non-transparent water coloured other than milky white: Tokachidake Onsen, in February, on my birthday. Pure brown.

Here, the water was a greyish-yellow. Great onsens always reeked of sulphur, but here, it smelled like something was burning.

There was also a cool, 33-degrees spring water bath, which might’ve been my first encounter of one. The cooler pools always contained plain water.

The rotenburo was as hot as the one inside. Right by the coast, with a direct view of the sea and the sun shining high in the sky. With the sea breeze blowing and autumnal temperatures approaching, the air finally felt cold, and contrasted by the hot spring water. Almost like my rotenburos in winter.

Finally, a round two onsen I could survive for longer than two minutes.

I stepped out of the rotenburo and stood naked in front of the sea, watching seagulls fly and waves crash on rocks. The rooftop rotenburo from Ise on March 7^th came to mind. Standing naked on the roof, observing the city at night. The opposite scene, compared to today, but the same liberating spirit. And to think I was about to skip this island altogether.

The ojiisan and I spent almost two hours inside. The water was the best; the weather was perfect. Infinitely better than the only onsen on Rebun island.

At five or so, we drove to a restaurant he’d wanted to eat in. It was fully booked.

Damn this island and its scant food options! Everything our bellies had craved was unavailable to us. We drove back to the ferry terminal and asked my accommodation for a recommendation. They sent us to a restaurant near the former that was open until 18:30.

My pocket started trembling. It was fancier that yesterday’s. But I couldn’t say no.

Nor did I want to, once the food started flowing in. Every dish we ordered was smaller than the price, and included food that was a first for me.

Mozzarella balls with honey (REAL mozzarella, like in Europe!); scallop sashimi with slices of lemon and sweet sauce; sashimi served on a shell with lemon slices; wasabi salt; ????, an onigiri with tea poured over it, to form a soup (I had salmon for topping, he plum); and a local plum wine, less sweet than usual, the flavour somehow stronger, with a huge ball of ice.

For dessert, we shared a parfait with whipped cream, coffee ice cream, matcha mochi, and sweet azuki beans; and daifuku, with ice cream inside, chocolate sauce, and frozen berries.

It was a meal unlike any I’d had. Every dish featured something delicious and exciting.

?????? he told the waiter in the end. (“He found it moving.”)

I agreed.

He insisted on paying. I didn’t even want to know how much the meal cost.

At 18:30, he dropped me off at my accommodation, with an invitation to visit him in Meguro someday. I checked into my huge, private tatami room, which explained the price, and wrote until 22:00. What an exciting, expensive, and exhausting three days.

Today’s highlights: waving the hostel flag and performing the daily ceremony at the ferry terminal; hokke kamaboko; eating Pikachu at Himenuma pond; kuma bamboo grass pudding; the view from Shiroi Koibito hill; using a water fountain by the road; the onsen; everything I ate for dinner.

23 September 2023

• 8:25-10:10 Rishiri island (Oshidomari port) to Wakkanai ferry terminal ferry, 11:35-17:25 Wakkanai station to Odori bus center bus

Farewell to Rishiri Island

My room inside the ryokan was overlooking the pier. It was so blustery, that the windows and doors rattled at night.

I checked out at 7:45 and hurried to the ferry terminal. The ferry to Wakkanai departed at 8:25, took almost two hours, and left me an hour before my 6-hour bus back to Sapporo. Not enough time to sightsee anything in Wakkanai.

I already regretted not having more time here. Rebun and Rishiri islands had joined my list of favourite places in Japan. Someday, I would return in June, see the flowers, hike Mt Rishiri, and eat kelp brownies. As well as return to the Rebun hostel and Rishiri onsen.

I didn’t get to explore Wakkanai, either. That was okay. Cape Soya – Japan’s northernmost point – was, based on what people had told me, just a spot you arrived to, took a picture of, and left. Japan’s northernmost onsen, in Wakkanai – I hadn’t entered this country’s highest onsen, either, while sightseeing Mt Tateyama’s Alpine Route in April.

There wasn’t much else to do in Wakkanai. At least I had another reason to revisit this area someday.

I texted the Korean student while boarding the ferry, asking if we could talk on the phone. It was clear that he didn’t want to.

At the same time, Horizon’s Korean boyfriend texted me that she’d left Korea.

It was funny how, back in July, she’d expressed her qualms to me about making her relationship with her boyfriend official, since someday it would become long-distance.

“I don’t want to get hurt,” she’d said.

The next day, I’d met the Korean student.

“I don’t want to get hurt,” he’d said.

We hadn’t had a single proper conversation since.

Now, Horizon and her boyfriend were closer than ever. Today, they were finally forced to separate. Yet they’d reunite in the future; they’d stay together; they’d keep in touch.

Judging by his texts, her boyfriend was a wreck… yet I knew his sadness was temporary.

As the ferry left Rishiri, the staff of my ryokan waved flags and yelled goodbye, just like the Rebun hostel.

???????????they shouted again and again.

?????????I shouted as well.

The ship sailed and their waving grew smaller, until the staff was just ants carrying flags. Rishiri mountain grew smaller as well. I thought about the wonders of nature – how one could feel so connected to a place, and also, to a certain person. Once you found that person…

Some people made it work, despite the struggles. Even when their time together was limited, and soon the distance between them would be greater.

It was yet another perfect day. The sea was breezy, without escalating into a storm. The weather was just right. It felt like a waste, to leave this island like this. It felt like a waste, to find someone special, and become strangers.

I didn’t know if I’d ever get over the heartbreaks I’d experienced on this trip. The friends I’d lost in the decade since high school – that was childish shenanigans, compared to the disappointments I’d accumulated in the past seven months. As the Australian girl had told me in late July, “Traveling is a microcosmos for life. Everything happens so fast, it’s all the more intense.”

My present moment exemplified this all the more. There was something about glittering waves splashing foam against a ship as I grew farther and farther apart from an island awash with green. Ferries made life feel grand. Even when they made me vomit.

I spent the hour I had between the ferry and long-distance bus inside Wakkanai station, writing and checking my messages. I was hungry, but didn’t feel like eating.

Sapporo

The bus snailed through a one lane road (not a highway – the speed limit was 50) south along the coast. Endless green fields, wind turbines, cows grazing. I tried to nap most of the time.

Back in Sapporo, I headed straight to the clinic from last week, to get my result. It was communicated to me in Japanese, so only after checking the dictionary I realized it was negative. But the doctor’s brief and unconcerned speech had already transmuted this message.

Then, at 18:00, I returned to the ramen place that the Morioka woman had recommended to me. Once again, a huge line. But this time I had nothing to do, nor was I hungry much, so a good opportunity to finally dine here.

After 45 minutes of waiting in line, I entered the restaurant. It was quite small, with signatures of celebs who had dined here decorating on the walls. I ordered the miso ramen, just like everyone else. This was the restaurant that had originated Sapporo’s signature ramen.

Since ordering was through an automatic ticket machine, I couldn’t make any changes to my dish.

The ramen was piping hot. Probably my most scalding one ever. Everyone around me was Japanese diners, deftly slurping their noodles, as if this did not burn the inside of their mouths.

Rather than throwing it away, I ate the slice of pork that I was served. I could tell that it was fresh, being thinly cut and not at all dry. But I did not care for it. As bad as I felt for eating meat, my lack of pleasure derived from it was somewhat of a relief.

Afterwards, I went to Donki to buy a charger for my phone, which I’d lost. Cowboy was leaving his apartment to work the graveyard shift. Yet he invited me to spend the night there, and see him in the morning.

I reached his apartment around 21:00. It wasn’t the first, nor the second, time someone in Japan had left their house unlocked for me.

Tomorrow, I would attend a business event – my reason for returning to Sapporo today – and, the day after, start volunteering at a cabbage farm for ten days. But first, I would get to spend time with Cowboy again.

Today’s highlight: farewell to Rishiri island.

Stray observations:

• I forgot to mention this in my previous post, but I think every automatic door in Hokkaido needs to be touched first. Probably because of all the snow in winter.
• One of the aunties I met on Rebun island recognized my necklace as an Ainu craft. The only time someone recognized this without me needing to tell them.

I first heard this song on June 27, outside the famous bibimbap restaurant in Jeonju. I remember wondering if I’d ever find its lyrics relevant.