Koborebanashi

Trivia, Tidbits and Tales about Japan

  • Okunoshima

    Just off the coast of Takehara, there’s a small island in the Seto Inland Sea.

    The island is called Okunoshima.

    The 15-minute ferry ride from Tadanoumi Port is a beautiful journey, especially on a sunny day, when the inland Sea is at its beautiful, sparkling, beguiling best, with the islands hazy in the morning sun.

    Stepping off the ferry, the island feels peaceful, and deeply relaxing.

    Quiet lanes around the circumference of the island, bordered with vibrant azaleas, the soft sea air, and the lapping of the waves against the shore, never far away. And the breathtaking views out over the Inland Sea. It could be heaven.

    But even more than the stunning scenery, what makes Okunoshima truly unusual is that you’re never really alone.

    Rabbits appear everywhere.

    They gather along the paths, rest in the grass, and wander freely across the island, completely at ease in their surroundings. And completely eager to come running at the merest hint of food.

    There’s something strangely calming about watching them go about their lives, unbothered by the humans around them.

    And yet, beneath the calm surface, the island of Okunoshima hides a very different past.

    During World War II, Okunoshima was a site of poison gas production. With access restricted to military personnel only, for a time, the whole island disappeared from maps, such was the top-secret nature of what was being done there.

    After Japan’s defeat in 1945, the toxic materials were buried or removed, and the facilities destroyed or dismantled. Even so, the island was dangerous and largely avoided. Access was extremely limited and not encouraged.

    It wasn’t until the 1960s that the island was redeveloped, and became the site of a kyukamura (休暇村), a national holiday resort facility. And now, with the cuteness factor of hordes of rabbits running wild, the island is perhaps the most popular destination in this part of Hiroshima Prefecture.

    Some people say the rabbits are descended from those used during the island’s poison gas production period in World War II. However, there’s no strong evidence for this, and more widely accepted is the theory that in the 1970s, a group of schoolchildren released a handful of rabbits onto the island after using them for science experiments. With no natural predators, a mild climate, and plenty of vegetation, the rabbit population grew rapidly.

    The island is commonly known by the epithet ‘Rabbit Island’ these days, but nevertheless, parts of its darker history, the history of its role in World War II, still remain visible. Quiet ruins, scattered across the island, almost hidden among the trees. If you look closely, the island hasn’t forgotten its past.

    Close to the port, the power plant ruins are one of the more recognizable structures on the island. They are the remains of a concrete-built power station that supplied electricity to the other facilities. These industrial remains, in a quiet natural setting, overgrown and succumbing to vegetation, provide a striking visual contrast.

    And, now mostly overgrown, nothing more than crumbling concrete walls and the outlines of buildings, there are the poison gas production facilities, and various other laboratory and storage buildings. It is sobering to think that here, in such a beautiful location, toxic gases like mustard gas were produced.

    Also, around the island from the port, are the gun batteries, defensive positions built to protect the island. The emplacements, facing out to sea, are a reminder that the island was a military site, not just an industrial one.

    Still, today the island is tranquil, serene, idyllic. The island now is for leisure, and wartime workers have been replaced by holidaymakers and day-trippers. You can play sport, you can hire bicycles, there’s a restaurant, there’s even a public bath. But for me, one of the best things is just to sit on the sea wall and gaze out at the Inland Sea, the islands, the little fishing boats, the beautiful pellucid waves. It really is heaven.

    But in the end, with reminders all around, the island’s past cannot be forgotten, nor should it be. The remnants of the island’s dark wartime history only serve to emphasise its current calm peacefulness. And actually, nothing symbolises the contrast between past and present better than the gorgeous cherry blossoms in spring. They’re so wonderful, it’s almost as if they’re trying to atone for what happened here in the first part of the last century.

    So, rabbits and ruins: Okunoshima is a place where two very different worlds exist side by side. A peaceful island filled with enjoyment and life, and the memory of something much darker.

    Strolling around the island, with the sound of the sea, the calm beauty of the Inland Sea, the multitude of rabbits, the softness of the light on one hand, and the quiet weight of history on the other, never too far away, you can’t help but feel that contrast.

    Okunoshima isn’t just a place to visit.

    It’s a place for quiet contemplation.

  • Baseball Manners

    I thought that baseball at high school in Japan was as much about manners and discipline as it was about the sport itself. But obviously, judging by what I saw on the train today, I was wrong.

    There were four high school boys, all baseball players. I know that because they were all wearing their school’s baseball caps with their school uniforms. On a busy train just before seven o’clock at night, when the trains are full of people commuting from work, they were taking up not four seats, but six seats. What’s more, they were sitting in the priority seat section.

    Now call me heartless, but I strongly feel that if they’re baseball players, they don’t need to be sitting in the priority seats. What’s more, all four of the boys were using smartphones. One of the rules about the priority seat section is that smartphones shouldn’t be used because they can affect pacemakers and other medical devices.

    I would suggest that before such boys start playing baseball, they learn a few manners. Surely that should be the priority rather than throwing a few balls around, shouldn’t it?

  • Toilet Paper Shock

    This may be too much information, but I bought some toilet rolls today, a pack of twelve.

    At least there doesn’t currently seem to be a general shortage of toliet paper, though, unlike at the beginning of the coronavirus epidemic, but even so, since when has toilet paper been so expensive? I don’t need to buy it that frequently because I live on my own, but the last time I bought it, it certainly wasn’t eight hundred yen for twelve rolls.

    Is this something to do with the Iran war, or is it just general inflation? Actually, I suppose it could be either…

  • Supermarket Madness

    I finished work a little bit early today, so I had a walk to the supermarket. Well, it reminded me of nothing more than a children’s playground. There were at least three groups of elementary school-aged children running around like maniacs, and one of the groups even had a little toddler girl in tow. And the control by the parents? What control by the parents? In fact, I didn’t even see any parents!

    I’d say that to all intents and purposes, as far as the children were concerned, It was just a big, wide open space, and therefore a space to play around in. And so what if there were people trying to do their shopping?

    I’m glad that I’m normally at work at this time of the day.

  • It’s Rude to Point

    I was on a train on the San’in Line the other day, and the train was quite full. Surprisingly full, in fact, for the San’in Line.

    Anyway, a group of five people- parents and three children, two boys and one girl— came past looking for seats. One of the boys nudged the other, pointed at me, and said, ‘Hey, look.’ Of course, I could hear and I could understand. So I said to the boy, ‘Is there some problem?’ He said, ‘No, no problem.’ I told him it was rude to point, and that was it.

    (more…)

  • In Praise of Okonomiyaki

    I

    I went for okonomiyaki for lunch today, for the first time in several months. Now, of course, this being Hiroshima, okonomiyaki means Hiroshima okonomiyaki. (Hiroshima people can get quite irate if you say ‘Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki’, so I won’t, but that’s what it was.) It’s very different to Kansai okonomiyaki. This being Hiroshima, I wouldn’t dare say anything other than that I prefer the Hiroshima version to the Kansai version, but actually, that happens to be the truth.

    (more…)

  • The Cost of Dying

    I went for a walk earlier this afternoon.

    Near my house, there’s a funeral parlour, and they were advertising the fact that you could get an estimate in advance as to how much your funeral, would cost.

    On one hand, that’s a great idea.

    But on the other hand, it seems rather gruesome, really, to be talking about how much your funeral would cost. And I’m assuming that either the person whose funeral is being discussed goes and takes part in the discussion, or that at least they are aware that the discussion is being had.

    Either way, it doesn’t seem like a very pleasant thing to be talking about, does it?

  • Baumkuchen in Japan

    ,

    I wrote earlier about a dentist called ‘Baumkuchen‘. So here’s a little more about baumkuchen in Hiroshima.

    Baumkuchen is a traditional German cake made by layering thin coats of batter onto a rotating spit. When sliced, it resembles the rings of a tree—hence the name ‘tree cake’ (Baum=tree, Kuchen=cake).

    Baumkuchen arrived in Japan- specifically, Hiroshima- thanks to Karl Juchheim, a German pastry chef.

    During World War I, Juchheim was captured and held in Japan at the Bando POW Camp. After the war, in 1919, he showcased Baumkuchen at the Hiroshima Prefectural Products Exhibition. This was the first time Baumkuchen was introduced to Japan, and Hiroshima prides itself on being where it all started.

    Back in 2019 in Hiroshima, quite a bit was made of the 100th anniversary of Japanese baumkuchen. One of the trams in Hiroshima even bore a special logo to commemorate the anniversary!

    After the exhibition, Karl Juchheim stayed in Japan and founded the confectionery company Juchheim, and baumkuchen began to spread through department stores and Western-style confectionery shops. Its original- and continued- popularity may well come from the fact that the tree rings in the cake represent longevity, prosperity, and continuity, which makes baumkuchen an excellent fit with Japanese culture.

  • Baumkuchen Dentist

    ,

    I came across an interestingly-named dental clinic the other day. It was called Baumkuchen Dentist, or Baumkuchen Dental Clinic.

    Now, baumkuchen are very popular in Japan, but I’m not sure how big they are elsewhere, so let me explain. They’re a type of German cake (actually, in Japan, they originated in Hiroshima, but that’s another story- or another blog post).

    A kind of cake. Do you see the problem here?

    Yes, it’s a dental clinic named after cake!

    Mind you, I suppose as far as dentists are concerned, advertising cake is probably good for business! And before anyone asks, I would absolutely go to this dentist if I lived closer! I think it’s a superb name!

  • Take the A Seat

    Some of the ‘shinkaisoku’ special rapid services between Himeji (Aboshi) and the Osaka/Kyoto area have ‘A-seat’ carriages. The seats in this carriage recline and have tables. The atmosphere is more like a long-distance express train than a commuter service. The seats have to be reserved (a flat fee of 840 yen), though, and can’t be bought on the train. The A-seat carriage is normally carriage 9 (it’s a different colour to the other carriages).

    If you don’t have a reserved seat, avoid this carriage: the conductors are quite aggressive about making sure nobody uses the carriage without a reservation!